#when slowly but surely communication from them comes less and less often | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

Text

The Hand That Feeds

Pairing: Ettore (High Life) x f!reader (physical attributes such as large breasts and alternative appearance described) Warnings: DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT. Mentions of child neglect, prostitution, substance abuse, death, murder. Dark and obsessive behaviour, attempted sexual assault, sub/dom dynamics, male masturbation, smut. Word count: ~3.7k

Summary: Ettore is used to having to take women by force - it's how he ended up on death row, and now a suicide mission in outer space. However, when a fellow crew member catches his eye and becomes the object of his twisted fantasies, he soon learns that the touch of a woman feels more satisfying when he's made to work for it. Based on this request.

Author's note: For @orcaunionleader. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Ettore screws his eyes shut. Strapped into the seat of the spaceship as it hurtles upwards, plunged suddenly into darkness when the lights fail, he feels trapped. It must have been twenty years, at least, since he has felt so vulnerable.

His earliest memory is sobbing as he is shut in the cupboard, the pitch blackness terrifying and too much to bear, but the sight of what he sees when he bursts out is so much worse.

The man on top of his mother, the noises they’re making, he feels strange, a combination of wanting to watch but also a churning in his tummy that makes him feel unwell. He retreats back into the dark, closing the door and hugs his knees to his chest until it all goes quiet again.

Ettore soon learns it is better to enter a room head first - if he is able to see exactly what is happening then he knows quickly whether it’s safe to come out, or whether he needs to retreat. Not placing his entire body in the way reduces the likelihood of being grabbed, hit, shouted at.

There’s a different man each time, and every time they leave there’s always money on the bedside table of the small studio flat, and his mother is asleep. It’s then that he crawls into bed beside her, cuddling into her warmth, tracing his fingers over the marks that litter her inner elbow creases.

He doesn’t recall his mother ever having hugged him, when she is still like this is the only time he is able to get close to her, and he wraps his arms around her until the rumbling in his stomach gets too much to bear. He is always hungry.

His bare feet crunch against spilled Rice Krispies on the dirty kitchenette floor. Sometimes there is bread to eat, if he picks around the mold, sometimes there isn’t. He sees through the window that there is a place across the road that his mother goes to every few days. She always comes back with glass bottles that clink against each other in the plastic bag, but sometimes there is bread, and less often there are Rice Krispies. He likes those, though he often spills them.

The hunger pangs in his stomach grow so bad he begins to cry. His mother no longer feels warm when he cuddles against her. He is not sure when she last woke up, why she won’t wake up now. Maybe she is just really tired.

He can see the place where she goes to get food from the window, it is not very far, perhaps she’ll wake up by the time he gets back, and so he wanders out of the flat, not closing the door behind him, and walks across the road.

Ettore’s eyes light up the moment he sees the familiar blue box of Rice Krispies, clutching it tightly in both hands. It’s only then that he looks up into the horrified face of the woman standing over him, unable to comprehend why she’s looking at him like that, as she takes in the sight of the malnourished, barefoot child before her, wearing only a t-shirt and a dirty nappy.

There are a flurry of adults around him after that, and he’s taken to live somewhere else. He never sees his mother again. He hears the phrase “non verbal” used a lot, and learns that someone of his age should be able to speak. He doesn’t know how to, and so slowly he is taught how to communicate with words.

Even when Ettore has mastered the power of speech, he prefers not to use it. He finds watching people is far better than talking to them. Most people tend to talk a lot even when they have nothing to say. He prefers the quiet.

There are lots of other children his age at the facility he’s placed in, but slowly they leave, one by one, when adults come to look around. He never leaves though, he supposes it has something to do with the way he has overheard the staff describe his eyes as “haunted” and how strange it is that he has no interest in playing. Grown ups don’t want to share their homes with children that aren’t happy. Ettore doesn’t feel he has much at all to be happy about, when he curls his lips into a smile it feels strange against his face.

As Ettore grows older, he learns of what actually happened to him. His mother had been a heroin addict, she had prostituted herself to fund her habit, and he had been a victim of her extreme neglect. She had died of an overdose and he had laid beside her body for days, until his own hunger had gotten the better of him and he’d wandered into the local corner shop in search of food. He feels nothing upon finding this out, if anything he yearns for the simpler time of huddling against the warmth of his mother as she’d slept off her fix. No one will touch him now, he craves physical contact but doesn’t know how to ask for it.

He’s placed into a foster home when he’s a teenager, though it is a placement that’s short lived. The woman has a daughter, she’s a similar age to Ettore and he longs for her touch. He knows all too well from the way that she squirms under the intensity of his gaze and leaves the room whenever they are alone together that the feeling is not reciprocated.

To Ettore it does not matter. He always waited until his mother was asleep before cuddling her, he reasons that he can simply do the same here. And he does just that; waiting until night falls and the house is quiet, he sneaks into her room, laying down upon the bed beside her.

He breathes in deeply, a delicate floral scent filling his nostrils as he runs the tip of his nose over the softness of her hair. His fingertips creep beneath her pyjama top, and he exhales a shaky breath at how silky smooth her skin feels to touch.

It’s then that she wakes up and lets out a loud scream, he topples from the bed, startled by her outburst and her mother rushes into the room. That is Ettore’s first and only foster care placement, another term is now used to describe him; “maladaptive”.

But he takes away a valuable lesson from the situation - if he wishes to touch a woman then he needs to ensure she stays asleep.

He watches couples with resentment, knowing that no woman will ever kiss or caress him with any semblance of love, not willingly anyway. Women don’t want men that are haunted and maladaptive, but that’s fine with Ettore. If it’s not freely given then he knows precisely how to take it.

Ettore preys upon those that are fumbling with their keys in the lock as they try to return home, women under the influence who spend just a little too long on their phones while trying to get a cab, and the ones that walk hurriedly towards their cars in empty, darkened parking garages.

He moves slowly, carefully, his body only moving in sync with where his head is looking once he’s certain of the target he’s selected. He is unhurried in his movements, and so he goes utterly undetected until it’s too late.

It starts as simply knocking them out and then using their bodies however he sees fit, but it rapidly escalates when he accidentally kills one of them, it happens twice more before he’s finally apprehended.

He doesn’t try to fight it, pleads guilty in court and is sent to prison. Even with good behaviour, his sentence is such that he’ll be elderly before he’s ever free. But any opportunity for eventual freedom is snuffed out when he gets into a scuffle with another prisoner.

Threats of solitary confinement hang heavily over him as he’s dragged away, and something inside of him snaps. He won’t go back to being locked away in the dark, he can’t. So he lashes out, and as he’s stomping upon the guard’s head he is reminded of the crunching of Rice Krispies beneath his feet from when he was a child.

The death penalty doesn’t exist within the United Kingdom’s judicial system, but he knows he’s being served a death sentence when he is given the news that he has been assigned to board a spaceship with other prisoners on a mission to extract alternative energy from a black hole. There is no coming back from that, he’s not foolish enough to believe otherwise, yet he readily accepts it. There is no other alternative for him, truthfully, there never has been.

When the lights eventually flicker back on and they are alerted they can unfasten their seatbelts, Ettore finally opens his eyes, looking at the prisoners that are seated around him. He’s surprised and intrigued to find there are women as well as men on board. He hasn’t encountered a woman since being sent to prison.

The scrubs they are given to wear are baggy and conceal much of their bodies, so to his disappointment he is unable to admire the feminine curves of the women on board - except one. She is shorter than he is, the remnants of a long since faded colour adorns the ends of her hair. Both her arms are full sleeved with tattoos. He wants to tear away her uniform and see what other artwork decorates her flesh. If he were a normal person, he’d strike up a conversation and ask, but Ettore is not one for words, so he simply stares, watching her every movement as a silent storm builds inside of him.

Though she is slenderly built, he can clearly see the way the baggy top half of her clothing curves over the ample swell of her breasts. His eyes linger there whenever he passes her in the corridor, picturing what it would be like to run his hands over them and squeeze their softness.

It’s these thoughts that are the cause of his every visit to The Box, the ship’s masturbatory aid. It’s used gratuitously by all crew mates, as sexual conduct between prisoners is prohibited on board, so he spills over his knuckles every chance he gets, imagining it’s inside of her. Would she claw at his shoulders and slap at him to get away, or simply lay still and take it?

Occasionally he deposits a sample into a plastic cup, taken away by Dibs, a supposed doctor on board who seems to be the main authority figure. She never fully explains what is to be done with his specimens, but once he has taken the reward he’s provided afterwards - usually a sedative - he cannot find it in himself to care.

He has heard whispers that she is conducting fertility experiments on the ship, attempting to artificially inseminate the female inmates. If that’s the case, he is thankful that his involvement is far less invasive than theirs must be, but ultimately it’s not his problem. He keeps to himself, ever watchful of those around him.

At least there is structure and routine; he goes to sleep and wakes up at the same time each day, participates in mandatory exercise regimes, eats regular meals and is assigned maintenance work duty.

Getting to know his own schedule means becoming familiar with other people’s, and that includes her’s. There is a sense of both excitement and comfort in knowing exactly where she is and exactly what she’s doing at all times.

The first time he encounters her coming out of the Box, he’s struck by how beautiful she is, pupils dilated, skin glowing with a light sheen of perspiration, her lips slightly parted as she attempts to calm her breathing. The heady aroma of her arousal lingers faintly as he goes in after her and he has never come harder in his life than he does on that day. He makes a point to go in after her every day after that.

If she were any other woman and these were any other circumstances, he’d have forced himself upon her by now, but they are in a confined space together and there’s no way for him to act upon his urges without there being almost immediate consequences for it. Every day it feels as though a coil inside of him is wound tighter, and every day he is left wondering if that will be the day when it finally snaps and he brings everything crashing down for both of them.

Despite his internalised conflict, she seems utterly unperplexed by him, which is confusing for Ettore. He is used to women regarding him with unease and disgust, so for her to be completely unphased by his presence is disarming. She is a criminal too though, he reasons, and for her to have been served what is effectively a death sentence she must have done something terrible. The thought makes her all the more alluring to him.

He is on cleaning duty today, tasked with scrubbing down the shower tiles. He enters the showers slowly, deliberately, unable to hear water running, so assumes that there’s no one in there.

But then he spots her, her hair wet and sticking to her bare shoulders, the tops of her breasts just about visible. She hasn’t seen him, yet. His eyes roam slowly over the greyscale body art that adorns her arms and thighs, wondering if there's more hidden beneath the towel that clings to her svelte figure.

Absent-mindedly his fingers move over the triangular motif that's tattooed on his right forearm; though the scar is no longer visible he still feels the indentations of teeth. If he closes his eyes he still remembers the way that girl had fought, biting into his flesh as he'd wrapped his arm around her throat. He can never recall their faces, but he remembers the marks they left upon him - each one now covered by the same tattoo - a target so that he never forgets - a slash of a broken bottle against his bicep, acrylic nails gouging into his neck. They're never quite strong enough, though they fight to the end. He wonders if her ink serves the purpose of covering or reminding, what sinister deeds have led her down a path of such finality. He intends to find out.

Her head snaps up to look at him and he sucks in a harsh breath as she makes eye contact with him. She doesn’t scream or shy away, simply returns his unblinking stare and his fingers flex at his sides, mouth running dry as he considers whether he’ll need to silence her or not.

“Like what you see?” She whispers, letting the towel fall slowly away.

Ettore remains unblinking, though he feels shaken to his core on the inside. He drinks in the sight of her bare flesh, her full rounded breasts, the dip of her waist, her curvaceous hips, feeling his cock twitch in his scrubs.

What the fuck is she playing at?

“Fuckin’ cock tease,” he spits out, before turning and walking away to the Box.

He reaches his peak embarrassingly quickly, brow furrowed and jaw slack as sweat rolls down his temples.

Once the feeling of euphoria has worn off it is replaced by anger and confusion. Had she been trying to get him into trouble? Did she actually want him? Was she making a mockery of him?

His mood darkens at the thought and as his mind races after lights out that night, unable to find sleep. He slips out of his bunk and walks slowly, silently, along the corridor towards her cell.

He can see the outline of her body beneath the covers, and is suddenly unsure of what he came here to do. Torn between wanting to lunge for her, grab her by the throat and make her pay for her earlier indiscretion, or simply slip beneath the covers beside her and allow his hands to roam freely, he stands and does nothing, watching her.

“Come inside, if you want,” she calls out quietly to him in the darkness, making him startle, “bunkmates are all sleeping.”

Ettore hesitates, remaining rooted to the spot, unable to believe that a woman is actually inviting him into her space, that she wants to be near him.

“You gonna pussy out again like you did earlier?” She questions playfully.

He feels embarrassment flush his cheeks and allows it to propel him forward, over the threshold, into her space. He won’t let a woman get the better of him.

She shuffles back against the wall, lifting the blanket and patting the space beside her.

He hasn’t laid beside a woman since the night he was kicked out of his foster placement for getting into bed with the host’s teenage daughter, the only other times before that were when he huddled beside his passed out mother.

Ettore swallows thickly, not wanting to show weakness and quickly slips in beside her.

She smells of the ship’s standard issue soap, yet somehow on her flesh it has an utterly different scent, it’s sweet and intoxicating and has him longing to bury his face in the crook of her neck. He inhales deeply, feeling himself grow hard from her proximity and the warmth of her soft skin against his bare torso.

Apparently she feels it too, as she eagerly snakes a hand between them, palming at him through his shorts.

A woman has never touched him like that before, not willingly. Usually he’s the one in control. It feels too much, too fast, bile rises in his throat and he jerks away from her, stalking silently back to his own cell, shame blooming hot and heavy in his chest as he feels tears burn beneath his eyelids.

What the fuck was that?

For the first time in Ettore’s life a woman had wanted to touch him, and he’d freaked out and run away. Does she not realise what he could do to her, what he’s capable of? He is supposed to inspire fear, not lust.

He wants to storm back to her cell and smash her head against the wall. She’s made him feel weak, inferior, yet despite that he can’t shake the feeling of her hand between his legs.

Unable to help himself, he waits for her as she exits the Box the next day, the telltale signs of her having just climaxed etched all over her features as she steps out. Her expression hardens when she sees him, rolling her eyes and side stepping him, until he grabs her wrist, stopping her from going anywhere.

“Let go of me, Ettore,” she says threateningly.

“How d’you know my name?” He asks, pulling her close so he can stare down into her eyes.

She smirks. “You’re not the only one that can skulk around the ship finding things out. Dibs left your file out the last time she had me up on the table, so I snooped. I know your name, your blood type, your sperm count–”

“Do you know what I’m serving time for?” He narrows his eyes as he asks this.

“No, I figure if we’re gonna explore whatever this is,” she gestures between them, “it’s better we don’t know that about each other.”

Ettore scoffs, quirking his lips as he eyes her carefully. “And what is this?”

She shrugs. “I dunno. Clearly you’re not comfortable letting me touch you…yet. So how about you touch me instead?”

He keeps a neutral expression, despite the surprise he feels once again that a woman would willingly let him touch her. “How would that work?”

“You’re about to use the Box, right? Take me in. Touch me while you touch yourself.”

Her words send an aching pulse straight to his balls and he nods, walking into the Box, not checking to see if she’s following. He knows she will be.

“Take it off, take it all off,” he orders quietly, gesturing to her clothes.

She pulls off her top and slips off her bottoms and his gaze rakes appreciatively over her form, only this time his hand slides into his trousers as he does so, his hand wrapping around his steadily hardening length.

Her lips are parted, eyes wide as she stares up at him, her breathing almost matching the intensity of his. Tentatively he leans down, inhaling her scent. The sweetness fills his nostrils and something inside of him snaps.

Pulling his erection free, he moves his fist over it in quick, aggressive strokes, biting at her pulsepoint, before moving his lips downwards towards her tits, pressing his face into their soft warmth, mouthing at them without restraint.

True to her word, she doesn’t touch him, keeping her hands balled into tight fists at her sides, though he can tell she is desperate to reach for him, her breaths erratic as she arches into his touch.

His stomach muscles contract, pressure building at the base of his spine as droplets of pre-cum help to guide his rapid, successive jerks of his cock.

Reaching between her legs, he groans at feeling how wet she is, a combination of her previous orgasm and how aroused she is from what’s currently happening between them.

He buries his face in her chest, sinking two fingers inside of her. There is no scratching, no slapping, no disassociating. She is soft and pliant against him, willing, and as often as he has fantasised about taking her by force, this feels better than anything he has ever experienced previously, better than anything he could have imagined.

As the pressure reaches its apex and he finally climaxes with a groan and a shudder, releasing white hot ropes of his seed across her lower belly, she reaches up with shaky, tentative hands to gently run her fingers through his hair.

“Good boy,” she coos, “did so well for me.”

He sighs, leaning over her, resting his head against the wall behind her. Next time he wants to sink inside of her, to feel what it’s like to be touched, wanted, needed. Because as haunted and maladapted as he is, as he opens his eyes and stares into hers he sees that she is too. Her darkness plays well with his, and in a cold and sterile environment Ettore has finally found the warmth he’s always craved.

#ettore x reader #ettore #ettore x you #ettore x y/n #ettore smut #ettore imagine #ettore high life #ewan mitchell #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore fan fic #ettore fanfic #high life #high life fan fiction #high life fanfiction #high life fanfic #high life fan fic

436 notes · View notes

isackwhy · 6 months ago

Text

still high but cooking. I SHARE COOK

isaacwhy x chubby! reader hc’s sfw

(small mentions of ED)

sfw

AS SOMEONE W EXPERIENCE

gym rats love us

as much as we want to deny it bc of insecurities they love us

so pls don’t be worried about that w him. i get it but he’ll reassure u each time that it doesn’t matter to him

plus i’m pretty sure yumi was talking about the new gamersupps girl who was chubby like the new design or whatever and that isaac liked it. which he didn’t deny

i need to re-find that podcast if anyone knows LMK

if ur a content creator and get the occasional hate on ur body and it gets to it isaac is immediately distracting you

telling u it’s bullshit

“some days they get me. other days they don’t.”

“yeah? fuck them. you’re hot.”

the first few times he asks if u want to go to the gym u say no out of fear and bc in ur head he was saying u needed to go

he assured u that’s not what he meant and that he just wanted to spend time w u anywhere :)

if u guys were bffs beforehand he knows every little warning sign that ur getting insecure about ur body

even if u aren’t he learns quickly

he notices how ur suddenly counting calories or eating less or staying in pjs and not wanting to be intimate

u feel bad. feeling like it might just be repetitive at this point for him

“you always help me when i feel like shit, right? everytime i stress about a video or feel like it’ll be shit you help me. and that’s kinda often. why wouldn’t i help you?” is what he says everytime u feel bad

obsessed w ur thighs

always grabbing onto them, laying them across his legs

love handles? he puts them to use 👍🏻 ykyk

if ur like me u don’t like whoever ur dating to touch ur tummy while ur cuddling. like it’ll remind them it’s there

this man will kiss ur stomach the first time it happens and honest to god u kinda hate it but he’s whispering such sweet things u can’t stop him

“you’re so pretty. so so pretty.”

“alright alright stop please.”

“not till you believe me.”

u hate when u smile bc of ur double chin that always makes an appearance but isaac has a whole folder labeled “y/n’s smile” so pls take a breath

“i’d look better in that if i was someone else,” u point to the somewhat fitting dress on ur screen

“if u don’t buy that right now i might have a stroke, babe.”

u buy it. well. he buys it. it comes in the mail and u we’re not leaving the house that day

ur known to his community and when rumors start to swirl that u guys might be dated, there was also hate that came w it

“isaac would never date someone like that.” a comment reads

that’s a fear of urs ofc but….he’s currently laying next to u and not some other random person so

soft launching until u just give in and hard launch

u guys were already all over each others stories and social medias but after u guys start dating and want to slowly reveal it u guys post a picture of each other every month on the date of ur anniversary w out any context

it’s fun lowkey

will always back u up

the boys and him make sure they don’t fat jokes around u

u told them it’s fine bc it’s a thing between them but isaac could see how uncomfy u got w then sometimes

when he can tell ur mental state is affecting how u see how u look he won’t talk about the gym around u and makes sure the boys don’t either

just the little things

he tried to give u hoodies but u refuse bc ur scared they won’t fit u

he has oversized hoodies and looks at u like ur crazy

“this will fit you babe,” he shakes the black hoodie in front of u as u shiver from the breeze in his backyard

“no. no. i’m fine.”

“lifts ur arms up—“

“wha—“

“lift!”

u comply. the hoodie fits.

“told u.”

nsfw >:)

u didn’t wanna show him ur body the first time around

u left ur oversized hoodie on, isaacs hands snaked under it to hold ur boobs

body worship bruh

kisses every part of u, leaving marks and little bites along ur thighs

u also made him leave the lights off until recently

“i wanna see you properly baby,” he says between the kisses of a heavy makeout

you pout, “isy—“

“you’re gorgeous. you’re amazing and i want to see all of it,” he says, attacking your neck in kisses

how could u not give in honestly

at this point the hoodie is gone everything and u try and use ur arms to cover urself but he won’t let you nope nope nope

fucks u in front of a mirror everytime u feel like shit

“look how pretty, hm? u can’t see what i see? i’ll make sure you do. don’t worry, hun.”

he said that while holding eye contact w u and u nearly lost it there

#tgc x reader #the group chat podcast x reader #the group x reader #the group chat podcast #isaacwhy #isaacwhy x reader

114 notes · View notes

ashtheketchum · 4 months ago

Text

●Let me help you●

Daryl Dixon X GN.Reader

Era: Season 9, Bridge Camp

A/N: I saw a few posts where some people weren't comfortable reading Daryl smuts because they were primarily for female readers, so I wanted to write something that would be for both genders

Summary: Daryl had to look after the prisoners all day to make sure they worked properly on the bridge and didn't attack anyone. Sometimes he had to intervene brutally to keep things calm. You, his partner, wanted to help him relax a little.

Warnings: +18 CONTENT, GENDER NEUTRAL Reader, blowjob, handjob, slight praise kink, cum swallowing

Words: 1.3k

Masterlist!

_____________________________

PoV (Y/N):

After we captured Negan, we ordered his workers to work on the bridge that connected our communities. Rick was in charge of everything and since Daryl, my boyfriend, was his right-hand man, he helped Rick as often as he could. And of course, as Daryl's partner, I went with him. We had our own tent where we could retreat whenever we needed a break. None of the workers knew about our relationship, we didn't trust them and we didn't want to risk anything bad happening.

While Daryl kept watch and did the physical work, I, along with Enid, took care of the injured or sick people. But since I had less to do today, I was able to stay in the tent and be bored. I was kind of glad that I just had to do some small things today, but in return it meant that Daryl had more work. Sometimes it was really hard for me not to interfere, because the workers really didn't treat Daryl well.

Today was another hard day for Daryl, which is why I set myself the goal of giving him a good night. I was still afraid of sex, but I could give him pleasure in other ways. So while I was lying in our tent bed, I thought of a plan to convince him. I was so deep in thought that at first I didn't even notice him coming into the tent. "Hey… wha´ is in yar pretty lil´ head?" I heard his rough, but also tired, voice ask. Flinching, I looked up at him and a loving smile crept onto my lips. Shaking my head, I stood up and kissed him gently, which immediately made the archer hum in surprise, but he kissed me back.

"For wha was tha´?" "Can't I show my boyfriend a little love?" I asked him and tilted my head slightly. Daryl just nodded slightly and sighed loudly. He laid his head on my shoulder. "Yah, yah… 'm sorry, ´was a hard day…" He then murmured quietly. And I believed him. A few of Negan's people had started a bit of stress again and Daryl had to sort out this stress on his own. I felt sorry for him and wanted to delay my little plan to tomorrow morning, but when I felt his lips gently kiss my skin, I couldn't hold back any longer.

"I have a surprise for you…" I murmured quietly and slowly pushed him away from me. The redneck just grumbled in confusion, but let me push him into bed. As tired as he was, I could probably do anything with him now and it wouldn't bother him. "You work so hard for us… every day…" My voice was quiet, almost a whisper. Daryl only made a quiet, short sound before he nodded slightly and looked up at me. In his eyes, besides the tiredness, I could always see his love for me. He could never hide his love for me from me and he hated that he had to hide it now. But my safety was always his priority.

"Wha's yar plan?" The archer asked me quietly. Grinning, I kissed his nose gently before sinking to my knees. I spread his knees gently so that I could sit between them. With one hand I stroked his crotch a little, with the other I stroked his stomach gently. "I just wanna make you feel good…" I then answered his question. Daryl immediately understood what I meant, because we had already played through this scenario often enough. Not exactly as it was now, but we had already satisfied each other several times, because we both still felt very insecure about sex. But it was enough for us, so why complain?

I let my hand, which was stroking his stomach, wander to his belt and then slowly unbuckled it. Daryl lifted his pelvis a little so that I could slowly pull down his pants and boxer shorts. His penis wasn't hard yet, but it was already big. Humoring quietly, I spat into my hand and wrapped my fingers around his shaft. The archer immediately took a sharp breath, his breath only coming out trembling. The longer I massaged his shaft, the harder it became and the more drops of pre-cum flowed out of his tip. I spread them out with my thumb so that I could now move my hand up and down even more easily.

As I looked up at him, I bit my lower lip slightly. Normally Daryl wasn't so sensitive when I was satisfying him, but now it was different. Even though I hadn't put him in my mouth yet, Daryl was already breathing in and out loudly and his legs were shaking a little more. He must really be exhausted if he was already so sensitive, but somehow I liked that. Now Daryl's cock was completely hard and I could no longer hold back my desire to put his cock in my mouth. So I slowly took his tip into my mouth and sucked on it gently. "H-hahh~…! (Y/N)~…!" God, it turned me on so much when he moaned my name. Especially when he whimpered so softly. It motivated me to put more of his cock in my mouth and suck on it gently. However, my gentle sucking quickly turned into a strong sucking and Daryl bit his lower lip hard to keep from making another sound.

I moved my head up and down faster and faster, letting my cheeks hollow to get some more friction, which made Daryl gasp again. He put his hand on my head to determine my speed, but he always made sure not to hurt me or force me to do anything. Moaning softly, I pressed my tongue against his tip, my moaning made my tongue vibrate slightly and Daryl took a sharp breath. "God, yar killin' me~…" The archer murmured softly as I moved my head faster. Daryl's penis kept twitching and more and more drops of pre-cum flowed out of his tip, which made me suspect that he would come soon. "Shit~…! 'm gonna cum~…" And his words confirmed my suspicion. I briefly lean away from Daryl to look up at him. I gently cup his testicles with my hand. "You're doing such a good job outside there, Daryl…~" I whispered quietly, as I saw his cock twitch. "You deserve all this, and more~…" Daryl had never received many compliments back then, so I gave him as many as I could. Not just when satisfying him, but also in a normal day in general. Daryl was always so sensitive with them, but I never stopped. Suddenly Daryl grabbed my head and pushed me back onto his cock.

Humming loudly, my eyes rolled back, but I enjoyed the fact that he was now becoming a little more dominant. Although Daryl was tired and exhausted, he pushed into me and brought himself to his orgasm. A few of his sperm went into my mouth, but Daryl pulled his cock out of me and squirted the rest onto my face. I swallowed the seeds that were in my mouth. "Fuck~…" Breathing heavily, Daryl stroked away the semen that were on my face before reaching for a cloth and wiping my face properly. "Thanks… I really needed tha´…" Daryl then thanked me and pulled me up to him. Grinning, I sat on his lap and kissed him passionately, our tongues found each other straight away. Moaning, I stroked his head before I let go of him. "Everything for the love of my life…" "Ya're sappy…" Even though Daryl rolled his eyes, I could see him getting shy and blushing a little.

Amused, I climbed back into the tent bed and watched Daryl getting ready to lie down next to me to sleep.

#daryl #daryl dixon #daryl twd #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x y/n

76 notes · View notes

cazzyf1 · 2 months ago

Text

The other day on my tiktok I created a simple post about how James Hunt is more than just the Playboy persona that is associated with him. This flew over someone's head who commented about how he was a Playboy. I responded explaining the point of the video but instead they doubled down saying that James didn't care about F1 only about partying.

So today I went through some of my books and gathered a load of quotes to show the James Hunt that most people do not know about, the one outside of the Playboy perception. I've posted it on tiktok but figured I'll upload it here as well so the true James Hunt can reach more people and slowly we can dismantle the reputation 'Rush' gave him ❤️

TW: Depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms/addictions

When you think of James Hunt you think of the 'playboy'. The guy who partied, drank lots, took drugs and slept with lots of women. Its true he did that, and a lot but to dismiss him as just that is wrong. He was a good driver, a person who tried his best, a kind man who cared for human & animal rights.

The next few slides I've compiled quotes from a few books and website to show what kind of person he actually was and what he went through in life and that less people will dismiss him as just a Playboy.

James Hunt's first marriage was rocky because James was already very involved in his addictions and he knew he didn't love Susy because he felt that he wasn't capable of love. But he felt responsible for her and wanted to look after her. Here is his own opinion from his book ->

"It was really THE problem. I thought that marriage was what I wanted and needed to give me a nice stable and quiet home life, but in fact it wasn't and the key mistake was mine. I really wanted to go racing on my own, and it wasn't much fun for Susy to sit at home and wait for me all that time. It was also a terrible hassle for her to come racing because race meetings were probably the most relaxing time in my schedule. The rest of the time you tend to be leaping on aeroplanes once a day and that made it even worse because it's bad enough organizing one person to get on an aeroplane. Organizing two gets to be twice as much hassle. It got to the point where it was a problem for Susy to come travelling and a hell of a deal for her to stay at home. It was making life miserable in the extreme for her and since I felt responsible for her it was making me miserable too. So we had agreed to split up and then Richard Burton came along and solved all the problems. We had had an immensely successful marriage because I learnt an awful lot about myself and life and I think Susy did too. We all ended up happy, anyway, which is more than can be said for a lot of marriages" - p14 Against All Odds

Much is said about James Hunt and the ladies he kept company, and without knowing anything about James you might assume the worst, but here's some quotes about what he was actually like with the ladies ->

"I don't usually have sex before a race because I am very definitely concentrating -I find that it is the communication between two people that makes it worth- while, and before a race I am pretty uncommunicative. However, if say I have an hour or so to spare before dinner on the night before a race then I can enjoy the physical release. But I will only do it with someone who is fully understanding" - p15 Against All Odds

"He was always attentive to his partners needs. Indeed much of his satisfaction came from giving pleasure. The only problem, some of them confessed, was that his desire to please often out-stripped their needs" - p264 James Hunt: The Biography

"I was sure he was gay, because he never made a move on me for so long" - p278 Jane Birbeck, long time partner, James Hunt: The Biography

"He missed the actual skirmish - he was inside getting drinks at the bar - but had to be forcibly restrained from going after the policeman who hit his girlfriend" - p284 James Hunt: The Biography

James Hunt had many affairs in his time, because he had become an addict to many things including women (more on this later) He was aware of his and it plagued James that he couldn't control it ->

"One evening she returned to their London home to find James in tears. He was tormented by feelings of guilt caused by his lust for other women. He confessed the full extent of his unfaithfulness, that it was unfair to her and that for her sake they couldn't remain a couple. It wasn't that he was bored with her, but that his desire for other women was insatiable and uncontrollable. He held Jane in his arms and they both wept" - p320

One thing that helped James in his life time was his love for animals especially his pet dog Oscar. Here are some quotes about his love for animals and how far he would go to help protect them ->

"I think in a way Oscar was the child James never had at that stage. He was a remarkable dog, no question, but James thought a lot about animals and their requirements and was very concerned about their needs. He gave Oscar the very best treatment and also was keenly intrested in the welfare of other dogs. He would look at a dog, wonder if it's owner was treating it well and bringing it up properly and if the dog was getting everything out of life that it could" - p281

"Before he came to know James better, the journalist Nigel Roebuck was pleasantly surprised by an incident involvinged stray dog. It was late in the evening after a Grand Prix and tha teams were packing up to leave when James, while talking to Roebuck, saw the dog wandering around the paddock, shiver-ing and obviously very hungry. Roebuck, also sensitive to the needs of an animal in distress, went with James to several of the team motorhomes where they got food and fed the dog. But that wasn't the end of it as far as James was concerned. He insisted that they should take the dog up to the race control centre.

Roebuck: 'He took the dog in there and would not leave until he was sure it would be looked after. James actually made this official sign a piece of paper saying he would take care of the dog and see that it was housed and properly cared for. I was very impressed with this. James was probably one of only a handful of people on this entire planet who would even give that sort of thing a second thought." - p281

"He also thought the wild animals residing on his estate should be left alone. If vermin had to be controlled it should be done in the most humane way possible, and he strongly dissaproved of blood sports. The very thought of fox hunting he found horrible and he vowed not to allow it on his property" - p308

James was also incredibly caring towards the young people in his life such as his sons and his younger siblings. Here’s an extract from his first GF about James and his siblings ->

".. the way he expressed his concern for the emotional youngest members of his family:

He really enjoyed looking after them, and just seeing the way the behaved with his little brothers and sisters you knew was instinctive in him. He was always going to be a good father.

One evening he invited her home where he was babysitting Jo Jo, Dave and Tim. When James had tucked them in he left Ping to read them a bedtime story. When Ping came downstairs James asked her if she had helped them say their prayers. When I said no, James said: "Right. You've missed out hugely there. Come on, we'd better go and do it." So they did. His attitude was that he was taught to do that by his parents and it simply had to be done.'

But he also practised what he preached, and he believed in the power of prayer. In the troubled years to come James would pray to God for strength and help, and he eventually passed on the bedtime prayer ritual to his own two boys, to whom he became completely devoted.

During his time with Ping he had talked about having children, and she thinks fatherhood earlier in his life would have prevented James from sinking into his period of decadence.

I felt so sorry for him then because I knew underneath it wasn't the real James doing this. I think he was trying to make life happy, the wrong way. If he had settled down earlier, had a more normal home life with children of his own when he was younger, one could have seen a totally different James.' - p26

James Hunt cared for human rights especially taking a stand against the Apartheids in South Africa. The Apartheids in short was a system of racial segregation. In protest most sports were not going to South Africa but Formula One still was, and James Hunt made it clear his thoughts

“We were once covering the South African Grand Prix during the days of apartheid. All of a sudden, and for no particular reason, he launched into an attack on apartheid.

“It was nothing to do with the Grand Prix, nor would it do British-South African relations any good. Our producer pushed a piece of paper across saying: ‘Talk about the race!’

“And then James blurted out on air: ‘Thank God we’re not actually there!”

But simply calling out Apartheid on the air wasn’t enough for Hunt. He sought to have his race commentaries blocked from being broadcast in South Africa, but was unsuccessful.

When that didn’t work, he instead — and secretly — gave financial support from his income as a race broadcaster to groups struggling to end Apartheid in South Africa."

"His deeply compassionate and loving nature was something that, unfortunately, wasn't adequately conveyed to the public, who only ever heard about the sensational side of James Hunt" - p282 John Watson

As mentioned earlier James Hunt was an addict. His playboy lifestyle was his addictions and this is all rooted back to the fact that James Hunt had depression which grew stronger and stronger. He relied on his additions to get rid of his depression which meant he kept doing more and more. Here are some quotes about his struggle with it and eventually how he overcame it ->

"At home James became increasingly introverted, uncommunicative and reclusive. He gave up golf and spent more and more of his time in the aviary tending his budgies. While the parties continued he would often leave the guests to Sarah and closet himself in the aviary for hours on end.

It became obvious that James was very troubled, but only Sarah and his closest friends knew the full extent of the anguish and despair James suffered during his bouts with what he called his 'dippers'.

Black dog' was the term Winston Churchill used for the recurring 'depressions which afflicted him throughout his life. Bubbles Horsley thinks James was 'born with a "black dog" on his shoulder. His racing pushed the "dog" away far enough so that it was no longer visible. But underneath that wonderful joie de vivre, the laughter and enjoying life, he was given to black moods. He was fearful of them and maybe it was that fear that drove him on. Perhaps without it he would never have been World Champion.

'And I think after the initial "honeymoon" of retirement from racing the black dog came and sat on his shoulder and wouldnt go away. So he became more fearful and sought distraction in various ways, through sex and drink and drugs and rock and roll, as it were." - p323

"At home Sarah watched her husband's condition worsen and desperately sought to help him. She thought his depressiond might partly be due to a chemical imbalance that James was born with, a theory that James explored himself. Then, too, to keep his dippers at bay he consumed too much alcohol and marijuana, both of which can temporarily bring relief but over the long term on have depressive effects.

Like others, Sarah felt that another reason for his 'dippers' might have been because he cut off his emotions early in his life and never learned how to open up to people, or to need them. He was essentially a lonely man and his inability to form close relationships made him despair. His depressions further deadened his feelings, and when he was unable to respond emotionally to marriage and children he grew progressively more despondent.

Sarah: 'He was at war with himself. His depressions became Intolerable and towards the end he stopped trying to fight them coming on because he knew they would take over for two days or week. His face would go black and he would take to his bed and stay there, even on Christmas Day. He'd gone to bed two days beforehand and we had Christmas stockings for the boys. I said, Come on, Beast, the boys are waiting." And he said, "Beast, i can't do it." And he was crying" - p333

"When James felt a "dipper" coming on he would go on two- or three-day benders, mostly drinking vodka. He would just keep going and going, which was always a bit terrifying, and after these deep, dark blank days he would suffer real self-loathing. He could forget his trouble with drink, but it always came back.

For many years trying to get rid of his depression was his major concern, which is why he got the budgerigars. He thought it would be such a huge amount of effort that it would distract him and they became an obsession rather than a hobby. He would sit in the aviary for hours, but he would come back still in the grip of gloom. And for a long time he was so down it was very hard to even converse with him." - p326

"He tried different treatments acupuncture, Chinese herbal medicine and looked into every possible theory. He went to different healers, therapists, psychologists, psychiatrists, psychoanalysts, the lot, to try and find the root of his depression. And in the end he cracked it" - p337

"He began to become more diet-conscious and to eat healthy foods. He also consumed information, in books and magazines, on overcoming addictions, and sought more professional help.

He knew he should stop smoking cigarettes and reduce his marijuana consumption, and he told some friends he thought he might be an alcoholic. He worried that his need for women was another form of addiction and feared he might contract AIDS and infect someone else.

John Hogan: 'So he stopped it all. Straightened himself out by absolute willpower. The strength of character of the man enabled him to get out of it. He cut out the cigarettes, the dope and drugs. the booze and the womanising and his sense of priorities became more well-balanced.' - p338

As he started healing himself of his addictions he became serious about F1 again. He always cared for the sport, doing everything he could to race when he was younger and now though he was retired he still commentated and took part in other ways to stay close to the sport ->

"James became serious about strengthening his position in the media side of Formula 1 racing. He took on an internationally syndicated newspaper column and spent many hours gathering information for it. Working with a journalist he applied himself conscientiously to making sure that every word was written to his satisfaction" - p338

James started to heal his relationships as well, becoming an amazing parent to his two boys and finally meeting a woman who helped him feel loved and be able to love after so long of not being able to ->

"The boys were real handfuls to look after but he was awfully good with them and he really fathered and mothered them extremely well. He was always up early in the morning cooking their breakfast and then the four of us would go off salmon fishing. James would fish properly and I would fool around fishing with the youngsters. And then in the evening we used to settle down and he would tell them stories." - p343

A letter James sent to his girlfriend Helen:

"I went to the parents' 50th in a totally negative frame of mind, feeling very much an outsider and wanting the floor to swallow me up. As the day went on, although I remained 'out- side', I could see and feel lots of generous, undemanding love around me. Something changed for me there with my family. Everyone was exuding love and I saw the wonder of it and want to be part of it, but firstly with you.

I realise now that the feeling of not being loved as a child made me close up to any incoming love projected onto me. I do see that I cannot live on without love. You brought it home to me when you pointed out how well I'm doing with the boys. Well I have had to work at that and I've got better at it and I have to do it with you. You are the girl of my dreams. Without you I have no future. I want to make you happy and continue to do so until I die.

All my love for the love of my life,

James"

- p350

Finally James was happy. He was healed from his addictions, in a healthy relationship, had two lovely sons and a job he loved. And best of all he was able to be open with Helen ->

"James confessed to Helen that he was unable to be faithful to anyone in the past because sex was for him just another addiction and he needed women to get his highs. He disliked social gatherings and only had parties or went to them to pick up women. Helen was willing to forgive and forget what went on before, but told him she wouldn't tolerate it in their relationship and he agreed to be faithful to her." - p350

Helen went away on a girls holiday before her and James were going to start trying for children. James proposed to her over the phone on the holiday to which she said yes. But she would never see her finance because he passed away from a heart attack. Unfortunately the previous life he lead caught up to him.

Thank you for reading all of this and I hope you now know more about James Hunt than you already did! It's sad that James is best known now for his unhealthy coping mechanisms for his depression, especially with the film 'Rush' romanticising it. But even if just one person reads all of this it means one more person knows the truth of James Hunt and that makes it worth it ❤️

#classic f1 #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #vintage f1 #james hunt

51 notes · View notes

wolfjackle-creates · 2 years ago

Text

WIP Wednesday

So I'll be sharing a snippet from a different fic today! If I share anymore of Bring Me Home, I may as well just post the entire first chapter. (Which, I will be looking for a new job and hopefully moving in 2 months or so, so I'll probably try and start posting after that. Get another chapter or two written in the meantime.)

This fic is also from a prompt that was submitted by @regonold to @stealingyourbones. I did part of a collab fill previously, but the idea has been living in my mind rent free and I couldn't help but want to take it on more fully. I've written 5.5k and this snippet is just under 900 words.

----------

The formal gardens beyond the iron gate filled Danny with dread. Vlad’s mansion had looked like this, too. But Jazz had promised him, over and over again, that the Waynes were nothing like the Fruit Loop while begging him to come. Besides, he’d spent weeks making sure his schedule was clear and making deals to prevent any interruptions. No backing out now. With a sigh, he pressed the button for the intercom.

“Good evening, may I ask your business?” asked a man with a British accent.

“Um, yeah. Good evening.” Why was it so much harder to communicate with other people as human Danny than ghost Phantom? “Um, I’m Danny. Jazz’s brother?”

“Ah, yes. Of course. We’ve been expecting you. Follow the drive up to the house and welcome.”

Motors activated and the gates slowly opened. Danny started the trek up the long driveway. His anxiety wasn’t relived when he saw the manor with it’s dark stone facade and literal tower. If it was made of lighter stones, it could have been a copy of Vlad’s castle.

“This is for Jazz,” he muttered under his breath as he walked up the stairs. Before he could knock on the doors, they opened and Jazz ran out to hug him.

“Danny! Thank you so much for coming! How’ve you been? I know you’re busy, but you need to call me more often.”

Danny hugged her back tightly. “Sorry, Jazz. You know how I lose track of time. So where’s this famous Jason?”

A man stepped forward and started speaking, but hanging off his back was a ghost. The ghost of the dead Robin, to be exact. Shit.

At least the position of the ghost meant he appeared to be looking at probably-Jason. Even if he didn’t hear a word the man said. To make it worse, Robin realized he could see him and was sending out help-me trills.

Danny had to bite hard on his tongue to keep from vocalizing his own comforting chirps.

He was so focused on Robin that he almost didn’t notice probably-Jason holding out his hand to shake. Laughing self-consciously, he took it. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

The other man hesitated a moment and asked, “Is everything all right?”

But all Danny could focus on was Robin hanging off Jason’s shoulders and sending out happy-sad-helpless feelings. Danny relaxed the hold he had on his ghost self and tried to sense what was going on. But he had to reassure the human, too. “Yeah, I’m fine.” But wow, was Jason not. Where had he come into contact with such weird ectoplasm? It seemed to twist every emotion into anger and fear and violence.

Even worse was Robin. He was barely perceptible even to Danny’s enhanced senses.

Of course, Jazz was liminal enough to realize he was doing something. Quietly, she chirped a question.

Danny just shook his head and pulled back his power. “Later,” he murmured.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said back, just as quietly.

Louder, Danny said, “Sorry. I just have bad memories about large manors like this. Has Jazz told you about Vlad?”

“He’s come up a time or two. With the black hair and blue eyes, someone will probably make an adoption joke at you before the night is over. But I’ll stab them if they do.”

Danny's laugh would have been much less forced had he not just felt the twisted anger inside probably-Jason. “Just don’t hit anything vital,” he said, hoping it sounded like a joke.

Robin rolled his eyes—and how could he do that so obviously with a mask on?—and tried to pull on Jason to lead him inside.

“Well, it might be summer, but Gotham is never warm. Come on in and I’ll introduce you to everyone,” said Jason.

Jazz grabbed his hand as they made their way inside where they were greeted warmly by an elderly gentleman.

“You must be Mr. Danny. Welcome to the Manor. I’m Alfred. Dinner will be served in one hour and please let me know if you need anything. Your sister stated you didn’t have any dietary restrictions?”

“What’s that?” Danny was trying not to stare at Robin who was now hugging the older man. Before Alfred could repeat himself, however, Danny’s brain caught up to the human conversation. “Oh, uh, no. I don’t. Jazz is right.”

“Very good. Can I take your coat and bag?”

Danny did shrug off his backpack, but only so he could also take off his coat. “Can I keep the bag? I don’t feel comfortable without it on me.”

“Very well.” Alfred hung the coat up on a rack right next to the door. “Master Jason, be sure to show him where the bathroom is on your way to join the others. Mr. Danny, there are plenty of drinks in the sitting room where everyone is relaxing should you need a refreshment.” And he finally had confirmation that this was Jason!

“’Course I will, Alfie.”

“Thanks,” said Danny, though he was more focused on the desperate chirps Robin was sending out.

I’m here-notice me-I love you.

Looks like he was breaking his promise to Jazz to not do any ghostly business tonight. Of course Jazz’s boyfriend would be haunted by a ghost that needed help. Why was he even surprised?

---------

As far as I know, there hasn't been a lot of requests for a tag list on this one. @addie-lover-of-stories is the only one I noticed. But let me know and I'll start one!

Next Part

#dp x dc #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #anger management #alfred pennyworth #i reread everything ive written today for the first time in a week or two #and theres some scenes i cant wait to share with others #it'll be fun #for danny at least #the bats not so much

747 notes · View notes

chaotic-archaeologist · 1 year ago

Note

got a question for ya regarding sex and online safety.

Background; I am an adulty adult. I have been able to and have voted in more than 3 elections. [I know you take interactions with minors seriously]. I am also ace and autistic. as a result I have never felt the urge to date and I normally don't mind having friends close by.

However, I also just moved for the 4th time since 2019 and would like to meet people.

So I downloaded Grindr. already got my first dickpic lol. I have also been chatting with a fellow who I like and would like to be friends with and I also wouldn't mind exploring my kinks with people... but I have never had to worry about safe online sexy stuff before so I don't know the basics beyond normal internet safety.

What do I do‽‽‽

Okay first, thanks for clarifying the adulty part. This is an awesome question, and here's the advice/steps that I personally follow for situations like this.

Have your first meeting in a public place. Go for coffee or ice cream or lunch or dinner or whatever. But don't meet them alone. This way, if you get uncomfortable with anything that's happening, they're much less likely to continue with that behavior after you attempt to extricate yourself.

Make sure there are no expectations. Plan not to have sex on the first date/meet up. Grindr often tends to ignore this rule since it's very hookup centric, but you're absolutely within your rights to insist on taking things as slowly as you want to.

Don't rely on the other person for transportation. If you choose to meet someone, get yourself there and plan to get yourself back. Walk, bike, drive, public transportation, unicycle, it's all good. But there's much less room for pressure if you're not depending on them for a ride home. This segues nicely into my next point:

Do not tell them where you live. At least, not right now. Plenty of people on Grindr are willing to "host" meaning you can come to their place. That's fine for them, but I err on the side of never giving anyone my address until I've had a thorough chance to assess their character and meet them a few times.

Tell someone where you will be. Let someone who cares about you know that you're going out, where you'll be, and what time you expect to return. Establish a time to check in when you're going home/if you choose to extend the meeting. There are also apps like Noonlight that can function similarly.

Be careful about what you consume. If you're going to enjoy and mind alternating substances, be very, very careful. This goes for anything from getting drinks at a bar to any and all of the recreational drugs on the market.

Be prepared for a little bit of awkwardness. Meeting someone in person is often very different than chatting online. If the conversation is awkward or halting, that's okay. Give it a little time (but also don't be afraid to trust your gut if it's telling you something is wrong).

Communicate clearly. If you have any needs—which can range from an allergy, not being able to stand for long periods of time, needing them to speak loudly so you can hear them, safety concerns—the best way to get those met is to be upfront. You don't need to disclose the reason why you need something if it makes you uncomfortable, just state what you need. People worth spending time with will respect that. The same thing goes for your wants.

Use protection. Maybe this isn't applicable for you specifically, but I think it belongs on this list. Condoms. Dental dams. Gloves. Someone on an app telling you they're negative for any number of things is not an actual guarantee they're not lying to you. Not wanting to use protection (not just for anal/vaginal intercourse, but for oral sex as well) is a huge red flag. Decide in advance what your boundaries are and stick to them.

If it sucks, hit da bricks. Fundamentally, you owe this person nothing. There is no consequence for saying "you know what, I'm not feeling this and I'm going to leave." Be as polite as you want to, but put yourself first.

At the end of the day, the only thing you have control over is you. How you react, where you meet this person, what you do—that's what you control. Hopefully any meet ups will be fun and relatively safe, but just in case, set yourself up for success by maintaining what control you can.

From one adult to another, these are all suggestions rather than rules. Many people on Grindr choose not to follow various ones, and that's fine. Take some time to think about what you're comfortable with and make your decisions accordingly.

Also, best practice for someone sending an unsolicited dick pic (if you don't want them) is just to block that person. But sending a return picture like this one is a hilarious option.

-Reid

#he speaks #sex advice #sex education #internet advice #life advice #grindr #internet etiquette #internet brother

242 notes · View notes

weenwrites · 2 months ago

Note

hello hope youre having a good day!! would you mind writing romantic scenarios for ultra magnus and bulkhead (separately) getting stuck in a storm in an area out of communication range while on recon with the reader?

Out in the Rain

Summary - Rainy days are always better spent under the cover of shade with a friend. Characters - Bulkhead Content - Fluff Category - Scenarios Trigger Warnings - None

✎ A/N: Sorry this took a long time for me to write! And since this has been sitting in my drafts for too long I've decided to just submit this with only Bulkhead.

Reconnaissance missions were almost always dull and boring. Drive around, look for any Decepticon activity, come back and report to base. Although it lasted for at least a couple hours, it felt like days whenever there wasn’t anything to report. Luckily for Bulkhead, whenever Y/N tagged along, recon missions became less drab and dull, they became more bearable with their company. And he couldn’t be any more thankful for their company on this mission in particular.

There had been nothing to report, and dark gray clouds began rolling in from above, bringing with them what looked to be heavy rainfall. Now Bulkhead did of course enjoy the great outdoors and what wonders Earth had to offer, and while Earth’s rain wasn’t anything like the acid rain on Cybertron it was still just as horrible, because huge gray clouds like those often entertained the possibility of bringing hail or lightning with them.

“The rain seems to be getting worse, Bulk.” Y/N remarks, noticing as his rear view mirrors adjust to see them in the reflection. “We might have a storm coming—”

“Whoah!” He made a sharp turn to the right, narrowly avoiding the lightning that nearly smote him. “You alright?” He queried after feeling their body slam into him.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me Bulk, we need to worry about getting back to base.”

“Right! Getting back to base, I’ll call them.” Bulkhead replied, driving on even as hail began to pelt him relentlessly. “Bulkhead to base, do you read me?”

There was no reply from the other end of the line, there would be only silence if there was no hail raining down from the skies, or the crackle and boom of lightning outside.

“Hello? Base, do you read me?” He repeated, hoping for a response. “Scrap, the clouds must be interfering with the signal…”

“Well what next, then?”

“We find some shelter until this storm passes.”

He swerved off-road, down a patchy dirt road and toward a grove of trees.

"We shouldn't stay under a tree, we could get struck." Y/N warned.

"Don't plan to." Bulkhead replies, slowly swerving along the road through the rain, "I'm just checking where this leads us."

Y/N slowly nodded, watching the greenery pass by as the two of them continued down the road. It didn't take long for them to arrive at a

"Thunderstorms on Earth are a whole lot less worse than they are on Cybertron."

"Bet they must be horrible on a planet made completely out of metal, huh?"

He chuckled, "yeah, it was pretty common to see a couple of bots get struck all at once, or even drop dead cus' of a single bolt."

"Yeesh... And the acid rain?"

"The acid rain back home could eat through metal like water eats through paper! Smaller bots couldn't even survive a day out in rain like this..."

"Man, that sounds unbearable..." They mumbled, finding it a bit baffling to imagine a planet where acid rain was lethal, "Would you say that the rain storms here aren't as bad?"

"Yeah, they're definitely way less worse..." He chuckled, "you know, the first time it rained here, the whole team freaked out. We didn't know that it rained water so we stayed under shelter until it passed. It was only when Fowler came along, that we learned that it was harmless."

"And you didn't see for yourself that the rain was completely safe given the fact that nothing was corroding during the rain?"

"Well--well, we all assumed that the native life must've adapted to be immune to the rain." He argued as they only laughed.

"Yeah, sure you did!" They smiled, "sure you just thought everyone adapted to it rather than noticing that everything was perfectly fine during and after the rainstorm."

"I wasn't the only one who thought that! You should've seen the way Bumblebee shook when he made it inside just before the rain touched him for the first time."

"Ah, really now?"

"Why are you saying it like that?"

"No reason, don't mind me," they snickered, "but do go on about Bee, tell me what happened."

"Well when it happened, it was his first official mission on Earth..."

#tfp imagines #tfp scenarios #tfp x reader #tfp bulkhead #bulkhead x reader #x reader #reader insert #self insert #weenwrites

27 notes · View notes

paingoes · 4 months ago

Text

Destroyer - Battleship

(Masterlist)

(Content: physical violence)

================

Delta sat cross-legged in the command center. He took deep, slow breaths to recenter himself. He’d been given permission to. He still had not made up his mind, but the better answer loomed dangerous and sharp.

It was time soon enough. Delta’s eyes flickered around through the window. Even on a good day, when he was most willing, it would’ve been difficult. Their mothership was drifting slowly, but drifting nonetheless. The target - the battleship - trudged forward like an old and wounded animal. Its guns had been tucked safely away, giving it the impression of something tame and docile.

Simon helped him up the stairs to the main control panel. The platform for the pilot and co-pilots was elevated slightly; it allowed for the best view of their surroundings. The rest of the room was lowered. There the engineers handled the internals of the ship, communications, and rear surveillance from their monitors. The engineers were in the room now, but they were forced to weave in between the number of advisors and admirals who had come to watch the light show. Galatea had been running circles around them recently. They wanted their pound of flesh. Paris was hanging around them, jittery, amped.

The rebel ship was the target. It belonged to Galatea. It had no emblem. It was painted black, almost invisible against the dark void of space it floated in. But it was a Galatea ship.

Simon nudged him forward again, a bit closer to the window. Delta made his choice then. It did not bring him much relief. The collar clicked off.

Delta wondered if he could make himself faint on purpose. He’d never tried it. At full power, it didn’t seem like a very safe thing to attempt. He closed his eyes, really pretending to think about it. If he focused in, he was sure he would somewhat grasp the shape of the two bodies and be able to work with them. It did not come automatically to him. He didn’t try.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to Simon, “I can’t see it.”

“What?” Simon said. He’d heard him fine.

“I can’t see it,” Delta repeated. He cringed, just a little bit. He was sorry to put Simon in this position. He even felt sorry for Paris. If there were less people around, it would’ve been easier. But he’d already committed to it. He wouldn’t down a Galatea ship.

Simon looked at him with absolute scorn. “Try harder.”

Delta shook his head. The collar clicked off. He heard Paris approaching from behind him, the light jangles of his jewelry filling up the air.

“What’s up?” There was a small note of irritation to his voice.

“Says he can’t do it,” Simon didn’t hide his frustration.

“What?” Paris said. Delta swore he could just hear him freeze over sometimes. He realized with alarm that the question had been directed at him. Paris moved to his side, only on the periphery of his vision. He forced himself to keep looking forward into space.

“I can’t,” Delta said. He didn’t elaborate any further. He knew if he gave a more clear answer, they’d try to work around it, prolonging the whole thing.

Paris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Delta looked down, bowing his head in apology. The punch caught him completely off guard.

Ouch. He knocked into Simon by accident, but not for long. Paris gripped his shirt, throwing him to the ground. He landed on the stairs, their corners cutting roughly into his forearms before he fell the rest of the way down. He reeled in shock. He thought he’d at least have a few hours to prepare himself. He thought Paris would at least wait until they were alone. A sharp kick to his stomach cut off his own thoughts, bringing him back to the present.

Paris’s anger was explosive. He was not ranting the way he often did in private, but the beating was just as violent. Actually, Delta was pretty sure it was worse. Paris delivered a kick to his shins, then did it repeatedly. He had to put a hand to his mouth to keep from making noise, which he did not usually resort to. He caught a glimpse of Simon, whose expression was unsympathetic. He did not look at the other people gathered there, not if he didn’t have to. Another kick, this time to the ribs. He was getting a little alarmed at how long this was going on.

He tried to sit up. Paris gripped his hair, slamming his head back onto the ground. He was directly on top of him now. Another punch in the mouth. His sharp teeth cut against his own skin, drawing blood. All the violence was starting to blend together. It just kept going.

He felt the coolness of the rings just before the grip around his neck tightened.

“Alright, Your Highness, that’s enough,” an unknown voice called faintly. The grip did not loosen even a little bit. Delta had been so focused on his own pain. He’d tried not to look at Paris directly. From the position they were in now, he had little choice. There was such cold fury in his eyes. The pupils were too dilated.

“That’s enough.” The voice repeated. Delta’s vision was beginning to black out. His body jerked involuntarily, trying to get air.

“Enough.”

Finally, one of the admirals stepped forward, yanking the prince upward by the scruff. Simon joined a second later, both of them fighting to restrain him. Paris had to be lifted off the ground before he could be dragged away.

Delta rolled over, gasping and coughing. He spit blood out onto the floor, too delirious to even worry about the mess. His chest heaved up and down, taking in as much oxygen as it possibly could.

Simon reappeared at his side, rubbing circles into his back. Delta got a few concerned looks from the advisors there, which is how he knew it’d been bad. He wheezed. They tried to remove him from the room quickly, but there was a lot of difficulty in getting him to walk afterwards. He had to lean heavily on Simon for support.

Dr.Martino put ice on his face straight away. He was concerned about the bleeding. He always got so mad whenever Paris hit Delta in the head. Everything else was more or less fair game. While Martino was there, Simon couldn’t baby Delta as much as he wanted to. The shock of the beating seemed to have evaporated whatever anger he might’ve had.

There wasn’t much else to do for him. Paris was always careful not to break bones, usually careful enough not to break the skin. It was all just blunt trauma, only designed to cause pain. Dr.Martino wasn’t going to give him anything to numb it. That would defeat the point. They let him rest though, which he was grateful enough for.

Simon lingered in the room after the others had left. He dimmed the light, mostly obscuring his expression. Delta could have sworn it was guilt. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

“Do you need me to get you anything?” Simon asked.

“No, sir.” Delta managed to talk around the blood. His head ached.

“Okay. Get some rest, honey.”

“Yes, sir.” He closed his eyes.

Thousands of miles away, the battleship floated on without any knowledge of the fate they’d just been spared.

~~~

Tags: @catnykit@indigoviolet311@snakebites-and-ink@vivulapom@defire @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckcapitalismasshole

#whump #whump community #whump scenario #living weapon whumpee #whump prompt #physical violence #delta #paris #simon #living weapon #good morning guys im realllllly sleepy

34 notes · View notes

chapinii · 11 months ago

Text

Q!Fit is used to loss. He's used to meeting people he knows won't be sticking around, used to putting on a brave face when they inevitably disappear or are killed beyond the point of respawn. It's collateral damage, part of the day job. Nothing new in the toxic landscape of 2B2T. There's no time to explore any kind of feelings towards anybody else, he's learnt over time that attachments are more often than not futile. Care about something, someone, and it may well be used against you.

His time on Quesadilla island has been different, however. This time he doesn't have that threat, he shouldn't have that threat. This was supposed to be just another mission, a vacation even. Gathering player data is an easy job. The players in question, however, he never imagined himself getting so close to.

Fit never saw himself as a father, in fact, he was lucky to have made it to the age he was now. He was so sure he'd die by the sword. A mercenary, stalking in the shadows of a lava-cast wasteland, both hunter and prey, wearing a bandana around his face to shield himself from the TNT dust which never seemed to settle around him. And now he ties that same bandana around the neck of a boy, his son, an egg so fragile and yet so much like himself. Though a lump still held in his throat when he looked for too long at the boy who played so innocently in the open air, he found solace in knowing that Ramon, unlike him, would grow up surrounded by trust. Against all expectation he'd found himself in a place where (however fucked up behind the scenes it may be) community is everything, and where within it, people are allowed to just Be. He could allow this distraction, his son wouldn't affect the mission too much. His guard was finally, slowly, being let down.

And then along came this strange, slightly unhinged and wonderful man, whose wide excited eyes looked at him with so much admiration and unwavering loyalty. He wasn't used to being seen as human. He hated how easy it felt to push down the guilt of being perceived as such. This vulnerability was new to him, but after keeping so much internalised over the years, he welcomed it. The notion of love was an alien concept back there, where the desires for chaos and destruction were almost carnal in nature. This feeling towards Pac was unlike any other he'd ever felt, a soft and tender mutual understanding of one another. He knew as much about Pac as Pac did about him, and they enjoyed keeping it that way. Even as they were forced to fight against each-other, Fit had taken pride in his roommate's skill and precision in combat, and, even as that competition amped up, he knew all too well the measures that must be taken to survive, and vowed to protect him all the same. Now they were back on the island he enjoyed being the one to stand back for once, he'd admire as Pac would run on ahead with all sorts of plans for the two of them, and bask in the fofoca he would return with for their morning crew.

Of course, the bated breath that still held in his throat was yet to disperse. He'd been the one to help break Pac and Mike out of prison. He sat with Mike and reassured him when Pac was kidnapped. Through Tazercraft he'd come to understand the concept of soulmates, someone you share a bond with throughout your life, platonic or not. He'd also come to know the true meaning of 'saudades', the deep feeling of longing and melancholy that comes with missing something or someone. He didn't want to admit it was something he'd felt all throughout his life. Living on the island had prepared him and Pac for those types of situations, and God knows 2B2T had whacked the mindset into him tenfold. But it didn't make this time hurt any less. Fit had finally set a date with Pac for Friday, albeit a somewhat rearranged one. They were so caught up in everything, in each-other. Things finally seemed to have been looking up for them, and then everything was ripped apart once more. Fit resented not having kept his guard up, for letting himself slip, and not being able to protect Pac before it was too late. He was gone.

That was why taking things slow was so important, he had told Ramon. You can't rush into these things, lest you lose everything for good.

Fit is used to loss. It's all part of the day job.

#qsmp #q!fit #q fitmc #some drivel for the dash tonight #i expect 2 notes and a glass of wine for my troubles #fitpac #fitmc

99 notes · View notes

astranite · 3 months ago

Text

CH2 Coming Home Loudly

John isn't okay because it sure is lonely up in space. Scott follows through on his promises; he's here for his brothers and nothing, not even the distance between Earth and Thunderbird Five could stop him. Gordon is also Making Sure This Happens. --After suffering in silence, John comes home.

@janetm74 's Suffering In Silence which this follows. Ch1 upon tumblr.

@lying4sport

---

It had been twelve weeks since anyone had last hugged John or touched him at all. Scott would've been the last, leaving him on Thunderbird Five months ago with a quick squeeze of his shoulder to say goodbye. If Scott had known then that it would be for this long or had put together the pieces about the debacle with Alan already, he would have given in to the urge to tackle John into a hug, professional dignity while on duty be damned. He only had now and his brother in his arms.

All things considered, the stifled sob John let out was far from surprising.

How he tugged away from the contact fully was even less so. Scott let him go, not forcing his brother to put up with his personal space being invaded when he was so unused to having anyone else around. He wouldn't anyway, even if his own heart ached. John needed physical affection to be on his own terms as much as he did need it.

John's arms went back to hugging himself as he rocked on his feet from heel to toe and back again, sniffling. "It's really nice to have you here."

"I'm glad to see you too. I really am," Scott replied. That barely begun to express how badly he wanted only to sit at John’s side and talk about anything or nothing at all, simply to be close.

Pretending to inspect the big ol' International Rescue sign became far more interesting as Scott turned away to let John surreptitiously wipe at his eyes. Spelled out in blaring capital letters, it was underlined red on the front of their space station

Funny how they had built this massive sign into Thunderbird Five up here where only John saw.

Scott ran his hands through his hair. He'd heard his brother's voice, seen his image through their communications array every day and near every mission since John had last rotated out, but it didn’t compare. Never could. It had been so damn long since he'd actually been physically in John's presence.

He missed him ever so much.

He spun back to John, slowly to give him warning but too fast because right now he needed his brother in his sight. John seemed a bit more with it, the mask of Thunderbird Five, the larger than life promise of salvation overshadowing the very human operator slipping back into place. There were still cracks in it to see his brother through as John fidgeted with his uniform, twisting his fingers around his baldric until it crumpled.

He was more the utterly exhausted, probably covered in mud and hangry level of put together of the others after a mission, than John's usual never less than perfect. Scott would take what he could get though. If John started crying again, Scott couldn't guarantee he wouldn't either.

"You ready to head home?" Scott said suddenly.

He craned his neck around to look at the gleaming control panels, their blinking lights shining as brightly as they should. There. Sorted. Given this was John, of course it was: he’d never leave Five anything less than gleaming. They could go home.

John paused, his movements dying down into unnatural stillness. He lifted his chin, looking Scott straight in the eye like he was presenting his case before a committee of the entire world judging him, instead of it only being them.

"No."

The single word came out blunt anyway.

Scott tensed up. To leave without John… he couldn’t—

Scott forced himself to take a deep breath. John wasn't exactly making sense, but when it came to his oh so clever little brother, it was most often Scott who was missing part of the equation.

"You don't want to? Or is there something else?" he asked, hesitant.

It was rare for John to be this thrown by anything. But then this wasn’t an everyday situation, or rather it never should’ve become one so ceaselessly.

“Jay, what’s going on?”

Scott didn’t know how not to worry.

"No!” John shook his head frantically. “No, I want to go home."

His hands flailed through the air as if he was trying to sketch out a diagram of the problem for Scott. They rose upwards before John brought them down fast, flicking them, flapping them in rapid, repeating succession.

It struck Scott how long it had been since John had let him see him do that. With came the piercing realisation of long since he’d been physically in front of John to see him. In front of a camera and across comms, John held his hands below the field of view unless one was delicately wrapped around his microphone.

A tiny piece of the tension eased. John took a deep, shuddering breath, placing his words deliberately: "Father told me to pack my bags. I'm not packed. So therefore I'm not ready.”

To leave without John… he couldn’t—

As Scott reached for him, out of an instinct to comfort his brother in any way he could, John flinched back. He flattened himself against the wall, limbs compressed inwards as if he wanted to to sink through the glass and disappear into the star punctured void outside.

John had always had the talent of making himself small. Scott was the one here on Five who was too loud and out of place.

“So therefore I can’t go home,” John murmured. Or rather he mumbled, barely audible syllables clinging to each other instead of cutting through the noise clear as day. Scott had nicknamed the latter as his newsreader's voice once upon a time, on a day they’d been messing about over the comms as each brother requested John do different voices and Jeff pretended to not hear.

It was what the world heard of Thunderbird Five, through and through. But not all there was to him.

Scott's hands found their way into his own hair again, tugging at it. He hadn’t thought. Grabbing him into a hug wouldn’t work with John. Never had. Sometimes that meant Scott wasn’t sure what to do.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

This was unfair, so fundamentally unfair that Scott didn't know what to do with it. He wanted John, down on Earth for however long he needed, happy and safe, but this wasn't the kind of rescue where Scott could throw him over his shoulder and carry him out of the burning building. It wasn't that sort of strength Scott needed.

What he needed was John’s own quiet strength, to calm and care for and carry people through to hope on only his voice. Yet what he had was himself.

#thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #astrawrite #Coming Home Loudly fic #autistic john tracy #adhd scott tracy #neurodivergent tracies #fun fact I just discovered you can copy paste tags #this is fantastic news for i dont have to write everything out each time when it wont show #hello dear reader I hope you are having a lovely timezone #or if not there is at least fic to read

25 notes · View notes

queengiuliettafirstlady · 6 months ago

Text

A lovely date

Fandom Ikemen Prince

Pair Chevalier Michael x Tala Amouzgaar

Part of Mayday Heyday hosted by @olivermorningstar and @lorei-writes

Thank you so much for hosting such an original event I was so happy to have joined in. 🤗😊

This is my gift for the darling @m-mmiy

I really do hope you will like this work, but above all I wish is for my portrait of your OC to be faithful enough to the picture you have of her. 🤗😊

It was a nice day, spring approached fast in Rhodolite in a much more gentle way she was used to.

The birds returned from afar told tales of exotic countries' wonders chirping excitedly waking ever so softly the animals from the hibernation of the winter whose chilly breeze still lingered in the air like the snow still present on the hilltop that was slowly but constantly melting under the tepid rays of a sun getting each day warmer.

It seemed like a dream to her, familiar and strange at the same time.

The coming of season was nothing new to Tala but the sensations blooming in her heart like a rose surely were.

She shot a glance at him, the source of that feeling walking unfazed by her side.

Chevalier Michael a brutal beast for anyone but her the only man that before her heart captured her mind with his cleverness.

A genius admired and feared alike she would have never got tired of talking to.

A source of everlasting knowledge whose discussion never failed to thrill her mind.

In that instant he shot her a glance while his pale lips twitched upward in a light smile rare like the desert rose and like it breathtakingly beautiful.

A gift for her alone to admire making her heart beat faster at the sight of his sky blue eyes glimmering with happiness.

"Do you like spring ?"

His voice as cool as ever not revealing any emotion even though she could perceive the slightest hint of curiosity coloring his tone.

"I neither like nor dislike it."

"That's a peculiar answer."

"It's merely a season there is no need for me to favor it more than the others."

A shadow clouded over his features almost as he was genuinely curious to know her better but bad at communicating his desire he retorted to avoid speaking at all.

"I have to admit it's quite nice here."

Sun returned to his gorgeous features dripping over his smile.

"How so ?"

"It's less humid than in other countries I visited."

They resumed their strolling basking in each other's presence, speaking no words for there was no need to.

Suddenly something emerged from the bushes to cross their path.

Even with her expression hidden from the brown veil he could perceive her smile reaching to her amber eyes glimmering brighter than the sun as a small duck approached her.

A jolt of warmth filled his heart at the endearing sight of the girl he came to grow fond of petting the small animal humming in delight as more ducks crowded around her for a chance she didn't deny them to be caressed by her delicate fingers.

Noiselessly he accommodated himself under a tree far enough to admire her and avoid scaring away the ducks but he had just sat on the grass when a duck approached him only to pick on his leg.

He stared dumbfounded at the creature looking into his eyes with open defiance before walking confidently toward him.

His bravery was rewarded as he stretched his long fingers to caress his feathered head so tiny in comparison to him and yet brazen enough to have him fascinating hom for reasons oddly resembling her/ that girl that caught his mind and heart.

It was the first time an animal approached him willingly it was strange but not unwelcome.

The endearing sight sudden and warm like the spring rain her eyes crinkled with affection as his hand that so often were drenched in blood and calloused from holding swords were now petting such a tiny creature delicately because there was gentleness underneath them.

A fresh breeze whistled among the garden guiding the ducks back in the luscious greenery where they came from.

It was like a dream if not for the tender smile he offered her as they resumed their pleasant date.

#OCExchange2024 #ikemen prince #my writing #ikemen prince chevalier #ikepri chevalier #ikepri

27 notes · View notes

magicalbats · 1 year ago

Text

A Helping Hand (and then some)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 9361

Warnings: afab!reader, masturbation, wall sex, oral sex (male receiving), a healthy dose of pining

⭐

The unfortunate truth of living in the company barracks is that privacy is an exceedingly hard thing to come by. A rare luxury afforded only to a select few when everything was communal from the baths out back to the sleeping quarters where upwards of five bodies could be housed in a single room at any given time. In that sense you greatly envied the officers that came from wealthy families and noble houses who had a place they could retreat to at the end of the day. They were free to come and go, more or less as they pleased, barring any pressing engagements or standing orders, but hailing from the slums of the Rukongai … you weren’t quite so lucky.

Slowly breathing out through your nose, you turn your head against the pillow to regard the girl sleeping on the futon next to you. She was snoring as loud as ever and the sound of it seemed to ring in your ears like a brass gong being struck again and again. Per usual she was out like a light. If it was only her to worry about you probably could have gotten away with just about anything so long as you weren’t too loud about it, but there were others resting in the same room, including Toki who often stirred at the slightest disturbance. It had taken her months to get used to the deep, sonorous noises coming from the other bed but now she only snapped awake when someone got up to use the bathroom, regardless of how quiet they’d tried to be. You’d had to find that out the hard way when she very nearly chewed your head off one night for making too much racket despite using your best tiptoes to try and sneak by. For someone who was usually so serene and placid she could be a rather scary person when half asleep …

There just wasn’t anything you could do with her laying a mere arms length away though and, determined to put the thought out of your head, you decisively roll over onto your side. But no matter how long you lie there willing yourself to drift off you simply can’t ignore the low heat in your gut. It’s insistent and demanding, beckoning you to reach down and do something about it. In truth you would have all too happily obliged if the risk were not so great. Had even tried to linger in the bath long enough for everyone else to filter out and leave you to it but luck wasn't on your side much these days. Living in such close proximity with the admittedly small number of other women in the sixth division made it almost impossible to diverge from routine, so when they moved from the soaking tub to the changing room to get dressed for bed you’d found yourself solemnly following suit. It was too much to ask for even a moment of privacy in a place like this.

You’d ignored these wanting pangs for weeks though. Tried in vain to focus on your duties and keep yourself busy with more productive outlets instead, and yet the dull thrum within your cunt never quite went away. Not completely, at any rate. It was always there, waiting just below the surface for the perfect moment to catch you unawares; and sometimes it would recede to the back of your mind like low tide when you were too preoccupied with something else only to come crashing back as soon as you were at ease once again. You could have screamed, you were so horny.

If you just had somewhere you could go …

Biting back the urge to groan, in frustration or wanton hunger, you aren’t sure which, you not so subtly squeeze your thighs and rub them together, as if that would do you any good. It only makes it worse, in fact. Your pussy needed real friction, not this blithe imitation that makes you clench your teeth in annoyance, and for a split second you seriously consider throwing caution to the wind. You’re so tempted to plunge your hand beneath the blanket and find blissful relief on your fingertips that you have to wrestle with it. Force it into submission. There were plenty of things you were willing to do if it meant finally getting off but waking the others to the sound of you hissing in pleasure wasn’t one of them. How could you ever expect them to look you in the face after something like that? You’d have to put in a transfer request first thing in the morning, but even that wouldn’t stop the rumor mill from turning.

Feeling your desperation start to spike, you frantically ponder the issue at hand. Surely there was somewhere you could go.

Sneaking into the bath at this hour just for the privacy it would provide was, unfortunately, not a good idea. If you ran into a senior officer there would be plenty of questions you don’t have readily available answers to, and that was to say nothing of actually being caught in the act. How embarrassing. No, you needed to think of a place where there would be the least likely chance of discovery. Anything that required you to cross the courtyard was out of the question for just that reason. You’d be easily spotted out in the open like that. Although the dining room was sure to be empty at this time of night you didn’t like the sound of it much, not where people eat. The kitchen was similarly a non option for that reason too. Captain Kuchiki’s office was a tempting thought if only because no one would ever dare step foot inside without permission but, well … that included you too. Unfortunately you weren’t that brave. Listlessly, your thoughts drift to the training hall and then linger there.

The more you considered it, the better the idea sounded. No one in their right mind (besides you, evidently) would have any reason to go there in the middle of the night and the place already smells vaguely like sweat no matter how much it’s cleaned. Being used for sparring matches and drills did that to a place after countless centuries of use. But there would be no evidence of your illicit deeds for someone to sniff out later, either figuratively or literally, and you probably wouldn’t cross paths with anyone either. There was higher probability of a senior officer taking a late night dip after finishing up one last stack of paperwork than of that same officer dragging himself into the dojo before bed. Logically, it was a flawless plan. You could be in and out in a matter of minutes, considering how intensely your pussy throbs at the prospect, urging you to follow through. You just hoped it would be enough to satisfy you so you could finally get some sleep.

Steeling your resolve to carry out this undeniably stupid idea, you gingerly push up to sit. You take a moment just to listen, noting the slow, shallow breaths of the other girls, each in turn, to be sure that they were still fast asleep before making your move. Even Toki seemed to be in a deep slumber and hadn’t so much as turned over in her spot nearest the far wall. That was as good a sign as any, and your heart seems to wedge itself in your throat as you carefully crawl out of bed on all fours. You felt like a proper fool for it, but it was better to be safe than risk standing now and making too much noise that would alert the others. Every little creak and whine of the tatami under your knees sounds devastatingly loud, threatening to drown out the intermittent rumble of a snoring girl, but surely that was just your imagination, right? You weren’t actually being that loud, were you?

“Where’re you going?”

Your hand stills halfway through the motion of reaching up for the edge of the sliding shoji door. You recognize the voice, of course, and it’s unmistakably Toki’s, but you still glance over your shoulder to confirm that she is indeed propped up on one elbow now and blearily squinting at you through the dark. Not that it came as a great shock or anything.

“Bathroom.” You whisper back.

She hesitates as if torn between accepting that answer without another thought or questioning it, and then she seems to further rouse herself. “Why are you crawling around on the floor?” She sounds more alert this time, and you desperately try to stamp down the panic quickly rising in your chest.

“I was trying not to wake you. I just thought - -“

Toki cuts you off with a groggy, raspy laugh. “I can see that. Good job, by the way.”

You anxiously bite down on your lower lip. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Reaching up to flip her long ponytail over her shoulder where it had slipped forward, she lays back down and draws the blanket up over her head with a sigh. “Just hurry up. We’ve got drills in the morning.”

We have drills every morning, you think to yourself but refrain from speaking it, deciding you were just lucky that she was willing to leave it at that and nothing more. You’d prefer not to be interrogated any further, unsure if your little white lies could hold up under her scrutiny - or anyones scrutiny, for that matter. Especially not when you could feel a second heartbeat between your legs, eagerly pulsing at the promise of friction and pressure, and you hastily grab at the door so you can get it open. No, this wasn’t going to take long at all.

Still kneeling on the floor, you carefully close the paper screen door behind you and then quietly move to stand. The way you smooth your hands over your yukata to iron out the wrinkles is superfluous at best, a force of habit, while your mind swarms with decidedly indecent thoughts as you wander down the empty hall. It had been a long time since you last did, well, anything, really. But between working yourself ragged just to graduate from the academy you’d had to fight to gain access to and then trying to cement a place for yourself in the sixth division, who even had the time? Maybe that’s why it was so overwhelming and potent now. You’d given it plenty of opportunity to build up and fester, and here you were sneaking around in the dead of night to deal with the problem only after it had become too much for you to overlook anymore. It was a bit frustrating to find that you were still haplessly ruled by your body’s baser urges but perhaps you’d do your part not to neglect it quite so much in the future.

If it saved you from embarrassing situations such as this then it would be well worth the effort but, even besides that, you’d earned it, hadn’t you? The luxury to worry about yourself rather than the myriad of other things you’d had to put first up until now. Barely surviving on the streets, training with heavy wooden swords until your palms bled and then staying up late to cram as much information into your head as you could manage for a test the next morning. There had been no end in sight for such a long time that somewhere along the way you’d forgotten what the finish line was even supposed to look like but you’d made it, right? Your acceptance into the sixth division was the indelible proof of that and now …

Your cheeks feel hot with excitement as you wind your way through the barracks, taking care to step lightly and use the halls least often traversed. You were looking forward to this a great deal. Maybe a bit more than you should but there was no point getting caught up on that now, your fingers itching impatiently with the desire to rub hasty circles over your clit. Just a few minutes alone where no one would find you. That was all you needed.

The early spring night is cool when you step out onto the wrap around porch and you shudder faintly against the surge of goosebumps that erupt along your skin. It makes the already stiffened tips of your breasts pucker and harden to fine points, pressing firmly into the front of your yukata. You feel weak in the knees with it. Hazy and intoxicated, your breath coming a little quicker as you creep down to the entrance of the training hall where you’re relieved to find the door unlocked. You hadn’t even stopped to consider what you would do if you couldn’t get in but you don’t dwell on it. It’s as if you’re in a stuporous trance that begins and ends with your cunt, completely consumed with this all encompassing need to feel the sharp release of tension that only an orgasm could provide. Try as you might, you couldn’t recall a time when you’d been quite this horny. It was staggering.

Quickly fumbling your way inside, you barely get the door slid shut again, leaving just enough of a gap for a thin stream of moonlight to cut through the darkness, before reaching up to tug on the sash that circles your waist. Fabric loosens and sags around your shoulders, and you’re halfway through the motion of shrugging out of the yukata altogether when you suddenly think better of it. You should probably keep it on, just on the off chance you had to make a hasty exit. That didn’t seem likely but you’d long since learned to err on the side of caution if you wanted to stay alive long enough to see another day, so you merely spread the cotton out around you instead. You hadn’t thought it was possible for your nipples to get any harder than they already were and you whimper faintly when the mild air hits your bare skin full blast. It seemed that you were even more sensitized than you’d initially thought, your pussy thrumming heatedly with anticipation as you blindly shuffle around until you can put your back to the wall.

There’s no point bothering with a warm up when you already felt so hot and sticky between the legs, and you tentatively cup your hand over yourself with a stuttering breath. Absently, you use the other to cradle your breast but that was an afterthought more than anything. Nothing else mattered except sating this intense need that had your guts curled into a tight, anticipatory knot.

Holding the air in your lungs, you tentatively rub your fingers over the slit in your body and a hot pulse sparks inside you when they come back wet. Yes, you certainly did not need to bother with foreplay tonight. You were practically soaked in arousal to the point that even your inner thighs felt a little damp with it, as if your entire body was alight with all the pent up, frustrated energy. Allowing yourself a quiet moan into the still air, you at last find your clit and begin to circle it with slow, stuttering passes of your hand. It felt good.

It felt so good, in fact, that you could just scream.

You quickly lose yourself to the sensation of fast approaching relief, canting your hips slightly to follow the rhythm of your fingers. Muscles were already starting to tense and vibrate, making it all the harder for you to stay standing on your feet without tipping dangerously to one side, but you lean into it rather than try to fight it. It would have been an effort in futility anyway, so you gradually start to slide down the wall in a half crouch that only seems to make your pussy throb even harder. You were balancing right on the edge now, so close you could almost taste it on the back of your tongue.

Another hushed groan slips from your mouth as you tip your head back and - -

The screen door just to your left suddenly flies open and the overhead light flickers on. You give a violent jerk and then, to your quickly mounting horror, you freeze in place. It’s like you’ve been petrified, everything right down to your constricting lungs suspended in place. You don’t even have the wherewithal to remove your hand from between your legs, and all you can do is watch as vice-captain Abarai pokes his head into the training hall, mumbling under his breath about who hadn’t locked everything up properly for the night. Then, he turns his head and looks over at you.

He promptly freezes up as well, broad shoulders stiff and drawn back in abject shock. You probably would have laughed at how ridiculous the situation actually was if only you weren’t watching your very life flash before your eyes. Your career in the sixth was over, no doubt about that.

Evidently snapping out of his stupor, Renji draws a sharp breath that seems to cut through the otherwise quiet evening. “You -!” He whips his head around to surreptitiously glance over his shoulder, perhaps checking for any other potential voyeurs before taking a step across the threshold. Rather politely he closes the door behind him before turning on you again with a look that is equal parts furious and perturbed. “Are you out of your mind? What the hell do you think you’re doing!”

You can’t help but wince at the aggressive shout-whisper he’s using even as you straighten up, self consciously tugging at your yukata to cover the important bits. It was probably a little late for that now but you still had some dignity to preserve. “Vice-captain, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“What could it possibly be then? I’d say what I just walked in on more than speaks for itself!” He almost looks like he wants to reach up and rip his own hair out, so flustered and incensed, but he somehow manages to refrain. You can’t quite meet his eyes though, and guiltily focus your attention elsewhere instead. It wouldn’t do you any good to flee the scene of the crime now so honesty was your only option then. Great.

“I’m sorry. Really, I am. I didn’t think … I just thought I could have some privacy here, that’s all.”

He starts to say something, cuts himself off and then tries again only to trail off with a low, rumbling groan. Realizing he has no idea how to respond to that, you steal a quick glance at him and watch as he brings a hand up to cover his face. For a long moment the two of you just stand there in that awkward, resounding silence.

“It’s not like I don’t get what you’re saying.” He says at last, in the quiet tone of a man who has hit a conundrum and promptly given up on maintaining his impartiality in the face of it. “I know exactly how hard it can be to find some time for yourself in this damned place, but I still think you could have picked a better spot. You’re just lucky it wasn’t Captain Kuchiki who found you like this.”

Slowly, Renji lowers his hand then and you’re so struck by the furious blush staining his high cheekbones that you let a surprised little “Oh” slip out. He cuts you a quick, scathing look at the sound and, embarrassed by it, you demurely drop your gaze. That proves to be a mistake, however, and your eyes widen at the faint bulge tenting the front of his hakama just so.

“Oh.” You blurt again, with feeling this time.

“Stop that!” He hisses, shifting his weight as if to try and hide the evidence of his body’s reaction. It does little in the way of good when he’s so slim and lithe that his uniform, usually draped around him in a breezy fashion, now prominently shows off anything that sticks up out of place. It may have been a different story altogether with someone like vice-captain Omaeda who was much larger and who’s shihakusho hung differently as a result, but with Renji … where there was once only a single, uninterrupted line to his body, there now existed an unmistakable weight pressing against the interior of his pants. It was as damning as it was promising, and your mind positively swims at the implication.

Just the thought of it is enough to have your pussy clenching tight and you shudder faintly with a renewed sense of dizziness. It wasn’t as if you’d never noticed him before now; in fact you may or may not have harbored something of a schoolgirl crush on your vice-captain but you’d never actually entertained the notion. You hadn’t thought it was a feasible prospect for you but this changed things somewhat, and you were just so desperate for relief.

Did you really dare to cross that invisible boundary though, in what was quite possibly the worst conceivable situation to do it in?

“Fukutaichou - -“

“No! Nope! Not happening!” Renji throws his arms up in clear defeat and hastily pivots towards the door. Your heart hammers into overdrive as you watch him reach for the edge of the screen, dread and disappointment settling heavy in your stomach. But he pauses there, seems to hesitate. The way he deliberately refuses to look at you when he speaks again doesn’t escape your notice by a long shot. “I’m sorry, but I can’t compromise my position like this. Take care of your business and get back to bed. Just make sure to lock up when you’re done.”

“But…”

He flinches slightly at the hurt in your voice, yet still he refuses to turn back around. “I won’t report this to Captain Kuchiki or reprimand you for it. I understand where you’re coming from, just …” Renji gives his head a vicious shake as if to clear his thoughts. “I am the lieutenant of this squad. It wouldn’t be right for me to abuse my authority like that.”

“Is it an abuse of authority if I want you to do it?”

Apparently unable to stop himself now, Renji whips his face around to gape at you in slack jawed surprise. The disbelief you see reflected in his comically widened eyes gives you that last little bit of incentive you need to reach down and slowly part the bottom half of your yukata. Pinching the cotton between your fingers, you daintily lift the fabric out to the sides as if performing a curtsy at a ball and he watches on with nothing short of boldfaced disbelief. You’re more than a little ashamed to be bearing yourself at him like this but you still feel your cunt give a muted twitch against the cool, wafting air even as more sticky slick drools out of you in response. Perhaps you were pushing things too far and would soon come to regret it but maybe, just maybe …

“Please, vice-captain Abarai,” you whisper into the terse silence. “Won’t you help me? I'm so hot and dizzy … I know you’d make me feel even better than my fingers would so surely we can help each other?”

A long, stalled out beat passes over the room and then Renji swallows so hard you can hear the muscles in his throat working even from where you’re standing. You can’t seem to bring your attention back up to look at him though, much too focused on staring at the toes of your socks where they’re nervously curled up on the hardwood floor. It feels like your heart is moments away from bursting right out of your chest, pounding so wildly against the inside of your ribcage it’s a wonder you’re still breathing at all. But then you catch a shuffling step and time itself seems to stop altogether, chest aching from the sudden wrench when you realize he’s coming closer. Pressing your lips into a thin, warbling line to stop yourself from whimpering at the sound of his approach, you wait as if on the precipice of some great, gaping chasm until his own tabi enter your line of sight. His feet are much, much bigger than yours, you suddenly notice.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you.” He murmurs, his voice dropped a noticeable octave that sends goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“You’re not.”

“Fraternizing like this between ranked officers and servicemen is highly frowned upon.” He tries again. Almost like he’s trying to convince you as much as himself. How interesting. “I could get into some serious trouble.”

“I won’t tell anyone …”

“But if we get caught,” Renji draws a deep, long suffering breath and you twitch when his hand inches into your space. He hesitates with those long, calloused fingers hovering just over your bare thigh before finally giving in to temptation, curving his hand around the fattest part of your leg in a loose grip. You suck in a haggard gasp, inching the folds of your yukata further open, inviting him to proceed, but still he wavers. “Are you really certain you want me? I’m sure there are plenty of other men who would jump at the chance to have you even in the other companies.”

You shake your head. “I want you, fukutaichou. I’m positive.”

A low growl rumbles out of him and you lift your head at last, surprise washing over you when you take in the darkened expression on his face. It’s something primal and masculine staring back at you now, something that makes your knees threaten to give out, and you suddenly find yourself feeling like cornered prey as he digs those fingers into the plush give of your thigh so he can tug you closer to him. “Just call me Renji. I’m no longer your lieutenant right now.”

“Then what are you?” Your voice is small and tremulous, shuddering faintly when he bends close.

“Just a man. Nothing more.” Tilting his head, Renji presses his mouth to yours in a searing kiss that instantly has you arching your back. The hand on your thigh turns possessive, squeezing and groping at you with a need of his own that almost catches you off guard. But you’re soaring on an adrenaline high, drunk off fast pumping endorphins, and you eagerly lean into him, going up on your tiptoes to accommodate some of the height difference. It was hard to believe that this was actually happening, that he was really kissing you like this. Did that give you reason enough to hope? Did you dare to let your foolish heart yearn for something more? You weren’t so sure that was a good idea, and you think you’re probably getting ahead of yourself a little bit, but … surely he wouldn’t have given in so easily if he didn’t find you attractive on some level.

Right?

Groaning, you pointedly shove such fanciful notions to the back of your mind when he reaches around to fondle your ass. The staggering size of his palm makes you feel small and delicate against him, fragile even, which was not a feeling you were accustomed to since you’d taken up the sword several dozen lifetimes ago. You’d noticed it before, of course, but nothing could have quite prepared you for how big he actually seemed to be when his hands were on you like this. Sighing against his lips, you rock forward and he responds by squeezing the back of your thigh hard enough to leave a burning ache behind. For a split second you think he’s going to haul you up against him, take you right off your feet and pin you to the wall, but he seems to change his mind.

Releasing you, Renji instead slides his hand to the front and dips between your legs where he presses the flats of his fingers against your drenched slit. You gasp in almost perfect unison with him and, panting, the two of you jerk apart to look at one another.

“Shit,” he seethes, tattooed brows pinched together. “You’re soaking wet. Are you sure you didn’t already cum?”

“Please don’t stop.” You beg, finally dropping the parts of your yukata so you can bring your arms up and wrap them around his neck, pulling him closer. He acquiesces with an almost bestial snarl, pressing in so close that it knocks you back against the wall with a dull thud. His mouth finds your neck, your jaw; nipping at you occasionally but mostly just pressing hard kisses to the skin as he slowly works his hand over your cunt with steady, circular motions that were not unlike the same ones you’d used on yourself earlier. The feel of his hand is much different from your own though, his fingers blockier and thicker, and considerably rougher too. It makes this part of you feel indescribably small as well, like something he could easily hold in his palm with plenty of room to spare, and there’s an undeniable appeal in that too. It drives you positively wild.

Writhing, you press back into the wall until it feels like you’re all but crawling up it, desperately tugging at his uniform to get it off. Renji isn’t particularly cooperative about it though, too much of his attention focused on getting your yukata pulled down to expose your shoulder and breast. Hunching further over you, he pecks at your collarbone and the swell of your tit before latching onto the nipple so he can suck at it. A startled moan bursts out of you, and you quickly give up on getting him undressed so you can cover your mouth instead. You couldn’t get caught. Not like this. You’d never be able to forgive yourself if you got Renji into trouble but it just felt so good. Between his tongue flicking over your pert, stiffened teat and the slow drag of his long fingers on your leaking cunt, you really were going to cum soon.

You try to warn him — try to tell him to give you a moment because the fast building tension was too much and you weren’t sure if you were ready for such an explosive orgasm — but all that comes out from behind the clammy palm of your hand are muffled, near frantic sounds of pleasure. Your chest heaves as you twist against him in an attempt to escape the brunt of what you were feeling but it was too late. The coil in your gut starts to vibrate and, eyes going big as saucers, you jerk your other hand down to grab at his wrist. You can feel the tendons in his arm flexing under your fingers as he continues to rub your pussy, ignoring the high pitched keening that slips out of you no matter how hard you try to bite it back. All it takes to send you over the edge is a quick glance between the two of you, taking in the sight of his hand disappearing between your legs, and you instantly shatter into a million pieces.

Tears spring up in your eyes as you ride out the waves of pleasure, hips juddering in sensitive bliss while you whimper and mewl in overwhelming ecstasy. The deluge of slick that suddenly floods your cunt all at once is obscene and more than just a little embarrassing, but you hardly have the presence of mind to apologize for it right now. The tremors just keep coming, rattling you straight down to the bone until at last it starts to ebb and fade away bit by painstaking bit. You’re left twitching in the aftermath, wheezing as if you’d just finished running ten miles straight, and you whimper when Renji finally extricates himself from your breast with a muted pop.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” He hisses, warm breath fanning over your wet teat to make you shudder again.

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

You decide to let it go in favor of basking in the lingering warmth, the hazy endorphin-filled comfort of your afterglow. Although you’d half expected it given how worked up you’d been, you’re still a bit disappointed to find that, rather than sating your hunger, it only seems to have made it worse. Your pussy offers up a dull, muted throb every so often, further emphasizing the hollow emptiness ringing through you, and you soon realize you’re going to have to make a choice. You’d already pushed your luck this far, surely another inch or two couldn’t hurt?

Rousing from your post-orgasm stupor, you bring your hands up to tug at the folded layers of Renji’s collar while you pin him with a needy little pout. “Take this off?”

You’d anticipated that he would question you, ask if you were really sure you wanted to take it that far, but much to your relief he merely untangles himself from you and straightens up so he can undo the tie at his waist. Licking your lips, you lean back into the wall to watch as his hakama slides to the ground so he can step out, kicking them off to the side. Shrugging out of his shirts and likewise tossing those away, he starts to work at unfastening the fundoshi around his hips while you take the chance to admire his physique as well as the tattoos that create an intricate, woven pattern across his skin. You’d always wondered how far down they reached and you were delighted to finally have your answer.

Reaching out, you press your fingertips against his pelvis, right above the spot where a thatch of wild, vibrant red hair starts, and he issues a low growl in response. The white linen finally slides away and his cock springs up in the space between you as he throws it aside to join the rest of his clothing. Your lower stomach immediately clenches with a renewed sense of urgency and need when you take in the thick shaft and bulbous head crowning the tip, but he doesn’t give you a chance to truly admire it. Quickly closing the distance again, Renji leans down to grab two big handfuls of your plump ass and he hauls you right up off your feet without so much as a word of warning.

Letting out a small squeak, you eagerly wrap your legs around his waist and your hands find his broad, tattooed shoulders, holding on tight while he readjusts his grip on you. You grin at him from just a scant few inches away, unable to help yourself, and he returns the look with an almost exasperated one of his own.

“I had no idea you were this insatiable.” He grumbles, making you laugh.

“You never asked.”

“Didn’t think I needed to,” Shuffling forward, Renji pins you against the wall and leans in to press his forehead against yours, meeting your eyes with a simmering stare of his own. The smile quickly fades from your lips, replaced by a tense, anticipatory ‘o’. You’d never seen him look so intensely masculine before. It was like looking into the face of the only man to ever exist, so primal and ageless that it further sparks the molten heat sitting low in your gut.

“I should be the one telling you how beautiful you are.” You murmur softly, the reverence in your voice obvious as you bring a hand up to touch the side of his face.

He offers a faint chuckle, his mouth pulling in a vaguely mischievous smirk while he shifts against you, subtly lining himself up. “Men don’t usually like hearing those kinds of compliments, unless they’re Yumichika.”

“But it’s true.”

“Well, thank you.” His eyelids drooping to attractive half mast, Renji tips his head just ever so to bump his nose against yours. He kisses you then, slowly this time, but no less searing than the first exchange you’d shared. Eager to taste him, you open your mouth and slide your tongue past his lips where you languidly lick at the back of his throat, possessively claiming him as yours. Your heart stutters a beat at the implication of what you’re doing and the fact he’s letting you do it, but you make a valiant effort to shove such thoughts away from the forefront of your mind and ignore them. Just sharing the heat of his body was enough. You didn’t have the right to expect anything more from him.

Your hunger for him growing rapidly, you take your time exploring his mouth, entwining your tongue around his in a sensuous dance that leaves both of you panting, and when he shifts against you next you feel the unmistakable bump of his cock searching you out. He slips and slides against the sticky mess you’ve made and, with your nerves thrumming excitedly, you wrap your arm around his neck so you can reach down with the opposite hand. Snaking between the two of you, your fingers brush against his rigid shaft and he breaks apart from the kiss with a low groan. You watch his face carefully, enjoying the pinch of his brow as you angle him towards your entrance and guide him in when he starts to slowly push inside.

Renji’s mouth drops open in what can only be stricken bliss but no sound comes out, the tension hanging heavy in the silent training hall when he slides that first quarter of an inch into your waiting body. He hesitates a moment, tips his head back with a seething hiss as he shuffles his feet further apart to jostle you slightly before giving his narrow hips an experimental thrust upward. His thick cock sinks into you a little further, stretching you open with a delicious amount of friction to go with it, and you let out a hot, stuttering groan. His hands are bruising on your hips where they dig into soft flesh, holding you as if he was afraid you might disappear into thin air right in front of him. You would sooner die than give up this deep, burning sensation of being filled though, and you rock into him as much as you’re able to like this.

Inch by torturous inch, he spears you straight down the middle until it feels like you’re so full you could just burst. At long last his pelvis meets the backs of your thighs and he goes still, just basking in the feeling of being gripped by your wet, squirming guts. Uselessly, your toes flex and curl in the air while you cling to him in a doped out stupor, whimpering softly at the thick intrusion. Even after finding release on his hand you’d still felt the dull pangs of need making your clit throb for more, but this … you’d never felt so full. So stretched out and claimed. The ceaseless twinge of desire that had haunted you, doggedly nipped at your heels up til’ now has finally receded into the background, an afterthought. It is completely overshadowed by this all encompassing sense of fulfillment that leaves you desperately grinding against Renji, wordlessly begging him to move.

He takes the hint after finding his own bearings, tightening his ironlike hold on your ass and ever so carefully angling his hips back. You mewl at the hot, sticky drag of his cock pulling out only to choke on the sound when he quickly sinks back in, straight to the hilt. You feel wild and mindless now as he gradually works up a rhythm, forcing your constricting innards to make room for him and accommodate his size. Grunting softly with each and every thrust, Renji finally settles into a steady pace that has you clawing at his shoulders and biting your tongue to stop yourself from crying out.

“You feel so good,” he grits, shoving his face into the crook of your neck where he lets loose a deep, rattling groan that seems to vibrate through you. “And you’re taking me like a champ, too. I was a little worried there for a minute … but you fit me just like a glove, don’t you?”

Mewling, you slide your hand up to bury it in the back of his hair and pull, feeling some of those silky strands slip free of his tight ponytail in the process. “Renji! It’s too much — feels like m’gonna’ explode. Stop talking.”

He laughs, short and breathless, against the side of your neck. You can feel the strong musculature in his body flexing when he presses himself somehow even closer, very nearly crushing you against the wall now, and you heave underneath him, gasping at the blinding pressure on your guts. Frantically, you clutch him against you and tighten your legs around his slim waist, encouraging him to fuck into you even harder. To your groaning delight, Renji obliges and it takes everything you have not to scream out when he slams into you with enough force to make the rafters shake. You were going to cum again. You weren’t sure how it was possible so soon after the first mind numbing orgasm he’d given you but you can feel it building in your cunt at an alarming speed, the tension doubling and then tripling each time he buries himself in your body. The accompanying wet squelch that rings out with it seems to echo in your ears, mingling with his rough, masculine grunts and your own helplessly stuttering moans to create a truly intoxicating symphony.

It really was too much.

“R - Renji! Please!”

“Shit! I’m gonna’ cum too,” he practically snarls, teeth gnashing against your pulse. “You just feel so good. I won’t be able to hold out like this … think you can cum for me, sweetheart? I don’t know how much more I’ve got in me …”

“Yes! Soon … I’m getting close!”

“Then look at me.”

Your pussy spasms around him so tightly, so vigorously, that it seems to sucker punch you and, gasping for air, you do as he’d asked. It’s a struggle to meet Renji’s eyes when his cock was still relentlessly, tirelessly drilling into you but somehow you manage. He looks mildly less wrecked than you feel, but the sheen of sweat coating his face and the dark quality of his eyes give him away. Whining low in your throat, you cling to him fervently, your back aching in protest as he presses you somehow further and further into the wall.

He comes close then, putting his mouth just shy of yours but not quite touching yet. You think about closing that gap yourself, about stamping his lips with yours and swallowing the deep, masculine grunts that continue to slip out of him. Renji doesn’t give you the chance, however, and you find yourself seething through clenched teeth when he shifts against you so he can bring his arm down and hook it under your thigh. Using his weight to keep you upright and pinned, he forces that leg to unwind from around his waist and then folds it up towards your chest. He repeats the same process on the other side until he’s got you folded damn near in half. His cock suddenly feels even bigger in this new position, your guts squeezing down on him with enough internal pressure to make both of you gasp, and you let out a soft, bleating groan that seems to echo and bounce off the walls.

“I’m going to count you down,” he seethes into the scant space separating you from him. “And you’re going to cum for me when I’m done. Do you understand?”

Never mind that you were already trembling in his arms, quivering right down to the tips of your curled toes, you jerk your head in mute understanding. He looses a low sound of approval before adjusting the canter of his hips, seamlessly switching gears from the hot, merciless pounding he’d been giving you just a moment ago to something much more drawn out. Each stroke suddenly feels like it lasts an eternity, the pull out just as slow and lingering as the long, sensuous glide back in. Your pussy convulses around him and clings wetly to his shaft while the tension in your body seems to climb that much higher, reaching new and dizzying heights you hadn’t thought were possible. He was going to break you at this rate. If not physically then certainly mentally, because how were you ever supposed to find satisfaction in any other man besides him after this?

“Renji!”

“Five.”

Blindly reaching for him, you smash your mouth against his, kissing him as if you were starved of oxygen and he was your only lifeline. He lets you take from him as much as you want, swirling his tongue around yours while the steady, intermittent pap of his pelvis hitting your ass fills the room. Eventually you’re forced to pull back for a much needed, gasping breath of air, and he jostles you slightly when he readjusts his hold on you to hit a different angle.

“Four …”

You suck in such a desperate, haggard breath that it seems to tear at your throat on the way down. Your esophagus feels raw and tender now as you struggle to keep your voice down, forcing your sounds of pleasure to remain hushed instead of outright wailing over how good he’s fucking you. You’re not so sure you’ll be able to speak properly come morning but that hardly matters now when his cock is gliding so smoothly against the inner sleeve of your body and seemingly hitting every single pleasure point and sensitive nerve along the way. All you can think about is finding release on his cock and, idly – almost hysterically – you start to wonder if you’ll even make it to the end of his countdown.

“Nghh, t - three!”

Renji bends his head over you then, latching his mouth onto the side of your neck. A startled little “oh!” bursts out of you and you quickly bring your hand up to slap it over your mouth again. He bites down on the sensitive skin, not very hard but just enough to set the nerve endings ablaze, and your eyes start to roll back. You weren’t so sure you could keep your voice down this time, not when he was gradually winding your orgasm up to an even more explosive, earth shattering crescendo than the first, one long, sinuous stroke at a time. This was dangerous. So much more dangerous than you’d initially thought it to be, and you were starting to realize that getting caught was only one small concern on the laundry list you were steadily racking up.

God, what have you gotten yourself into?

“Two.” He growls, coming up off your neck only to speak before diving back in to lick a wet, hot stripe across the violently pounding pulse there. You give a small shriek, practically hyperventilating now as you claw at him, your legs jerking and splaying out at awkward angles without anything to brace against. You feel it then. The chord reaching maximum tension, threatening to snap at any moment, and you let out a borderline hysterical sob as you lurch in his arms, bringing your hands down to grip his flexing biceps in a death grip. Your nails dig in and you aren’t so sure they don’t break the skin, but it’s all you can do just to stay grounded, struggling not to let the mind numbing current pull you under and suffocate you.

It was going to be a miracle if you didn’t alert the entire sixth division to your illicit activities.

“Ready to cum for me, sweetheart? I know I am … you’ve got me so damn close.” Blowing out a terse exhale, Renji swoops up to catch your mouth and you kiss him back in as much as you’re able to when he just keeps pulling an unending stream of moans out of you. He accepts them all, swallows them down without a second thought, and when it starts to feel like you’re going to vibrate right out of his arms, he finally pulls back just enough to speak against your lips. “One.”

Your spine snaps ramrod stiff, mouth flying open to scream, but before you can utter so much as a peep he’s sealed his mouth over yours once again, and you shatter. Irreparably shatter into a million fleeting pieces of yourself, wailing muffled cries against his lips while your pussy spasms uncontrollably around him. It steals the air from your lungs, sends you reeling in his hold, but still he doesn’t stop. He maintains that same, steady pace of push and pull, dragging out your orgasm to the point of real discomfort, but even in the wild throes of your release you manage to notice the shake in his hands, the stiff tremor working through his body. It’s obvious he’s painfully close and, sucking in haggard mouthfuls of air, you deliriously reach out to grip his shoulder, knowing you had to act fast.

“Put me down …” Your voice barely even sounds like you anymore and he hesitates for half a beat before carefully moving to release you. His stiff cock slips free with an embarrassingly loud, wet pop and you sway unsteadily as he puts you on your feet. The muscles in your cunt are still sporadically clenching, the tail end of your orgasm shuddering through you even now as you weakly, gratefully sink down onto your knees in front of him.

Renji issues a quiet sound of confusion but you don’t give him the chance to question it, gripping the fronts of his lean thighs to steady yourself when you go up on your knees. He seems to catch on a moment too late and a surprised huff rattles out of him when you catch the straining length of his cock in your mouth. Greedily, you swallow it straight down as far as you can go, and a fresh wave of satisfaction lights up within you when his big hands find the top of your head, cradling your skull gingerly. The taste of your own cunt mixed with the heady, salty taste of him swarms your senses all at once and you moan hotly around him as you work your neck back and forth, slurping loudly while you do it.

His hips sensitively twitch and he moans, low and deep, when you take him right to the back of your throat. You make a valiant attempt to swallow him down only to gag on the head, sputtering around the shaft, and he hisses in response, allowing himself a weak, halfhearted thrust into your mouth. He does it once, twice — his thighs beginning to tremble under your palms, mirroring how yours had looked only moments before — and with a final push, he gives a subdued little jerk. His cock jumps in your mouth, pulsing excitedly, and with an accompanying groan to go with it he shoots down your throat. The first clump that hits your tonsils is hot and thick but rather small. The second is much larger, fat and sticky, and you choke on it before dutifully forcing it all down your gullet. He cums much more than you’d anticipated him to when everything is said and done, creamy discharge flooding your mouth until it’s the only thing you can taste anymore. But you hold your ground until there’s nothing left and all the evidence of this unexpected tryst is sitting heavy in your stomach, settling like a warm drink that pleasantly lingers long after you’ve had the last sip. You were rather proud of yourself for taking it all, truth be told.

Spent, Renji finally dislodges his hands from you and takes a shuffling step back before bending to brace his palms on his knees. While he catches his breath, the muscles in his flat stomach still flexing and jumping underneath the skin, you take a moment to study him. Really study him. The narrow width of his deceptively lithe waist was such a sharp contrast to those broad shoulders, the long line of his legs and the well built definition in his powerful arms … he really was beautiful, and you suddenly find yourself regretting that you didn’t tell him that more while you had the chance. It seemed like such a waste now, but a quick look between his legs at the flagged member dangling there, still glistening wet with pussy slick, you know there isn’t going to be a round two for you to amend that mistake.

Abruptly feeling awkward now that the high was starting to wear off, you self consciously tug your yukata back into place. You weren’t sure how to proceed from here. Should you thank him? Tell him how good it was for you? It’s been so long that you seem to have forgotten all your pillow manners, embarrassingly enough.

“Renji - -“

“Sorry, sorry. That's my bad.” He cuts you off, holding up a single hand to stop you from speaking any further. “I don’t really expect you to believe this, but I promise I’m usually a bit better about pacing myself. I mean, I try to be, anyway. I’m not sure how else to say this but it felt like you were sucking the life right out of me. I’m completely drained.”

Your cheeks grow warm even as you lift your brows at him incredulously. “What are you saying?”

Grumbling, Renji finally lifts his head to pin you with a grumpy, flat eyed scowl. “I’m saying I don’t think I can bounce back from that tonight, but now that I know what kind of soul sucking demon you are I’ll be better prepared next time.”

“Next time?” You echo him, tone high and disbelieving.

“Yeah, I’ll make it up to you then, okay?”

Perplexed now, you tip your head at a curious angle. “You want to do this again?”

He gives you an odd look. “I mean, yeah. If you want to. I won’t force you or anything but I know I can do even better if you give me the chance. You caught me a bit off guard, you know.”

You mull that over for a brief moment, soon realizing that such an arrangement with him would be doubly beneficial. Not only would you be able to have your needs met more often than every five years, give or take, but it would also give you a chance to win him over. It wasn’t exactly ideal, doing things out of order like this, but you weren’t really the traditional type and, looking at him, you got the sense he wasn’t either. And his promise of delivering an even better performance next time was certainly tempting in and of itself too. You were eager to see that, of course, but mostly you just felt relief. It was nice knowing some part of him must like you well enough to invite you back. That meant you had a chance, right?

Trying in vain to ignore that hopeful little flutter deep in your chest, you offer him a quick, genuine smile. “There’s nothing to make up for in the first place, you idiot. You were great. But if you’re certain you can do an even better job next time then I’ll hold you to that.”

He doesn’t look like he quite trusts it, fixing you with a wary side eye as he straightens up and moves to gather up his clothes. Almost like he half expected you to strike when he wasn’t looking. It’s such a silly thing but it does make you laugh.

Feeling warm and satiated in the afterglow, you too find your feet and work to get yourself in order, straightening out your yukata and refastening the tie around your middle to hold it in place. It was in all likelihood only a small possibility but even just that tiny sliver of hope was enough to make you want for something more. To believe that maybe, just maybe, your schoolgirl crush wasn’t such a lost cause after all.

It was worth a shot, at least.

#bleach #renji abarai #renji abarai x reader #self insert bullshit

82 notes · View notes