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sofasoap · 1 year

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Miss Moonlight

Pairing : Kyle “ Gaz” Garrick x F!reader + 141

Summary: Dodging Soap, proposal and wedding bell.

Part 4.5 to Miss Sunshine series.

I write things backwards sometimes.

Warning: M theme, otherwise overall fluff.

Gaz route for my Mini MacTavish verse.

As always, Thanks to mother of my Mini MacTavish @saltofmercury for lending me the character “Mini” from her story. Go read her “The Favorite MacTavish” !

“Masterlist”for other stories to this Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

“KYLE, KYLE WAKE UP!”

Gaz swats the hand that is currently slapping his head away, flipping the pillow on top of his head, mumbling incoherently something about Price giving him a day off so he doesn’t have to hose down Ghost and feed Soap.

“Wha…nevermind. I don’t want to know what you boys do at the base, come on wake up!”

“JOHNNY IS HERE!”

You have never seen your boyfriend move so fast in his life before, jumping up from bed, about to run out of the room until you pull him back, nearly falling onto the bookshelf full of the trinkets he gifted you.

Throwing his underwear into his face, “Put some clothes on first!”you hissed.

“He’s inside the house already?”

“Bloody Emma forgot that you were staying over, and she let him in before asking!” quickly throwing a jean and some t-shirts on, you gave him a quick kiss, “I told him I’ll go out for breakfast with him, you know the drill.”

Sudden loud knocking sound on your bedroom door, startling both of you.

“Mini! You decent?”

“NO!!!! Give me Five minutes!” Yelling back as you start throwing Gaz’s stuff into the duffle bag. You were absolutely fuming.

This game of cat and mouse happened so many times after you two reconciled and finally confessed your feelings to each other. It was hard because Soap had a bad habit of showing up at your doorstep, either unannounced, or only informing you of his visit merely a few hours before he dropped in.

“Just want to see my favourite sibling’s face,” he claims.

“John MacTavish, I am your ONLY sibling.”

You suspect other than seeing you, he is here for someone else too.

Thanking his military training for the stealthing ability while you and Emma distract Soap, Gaz always manages to sneak out without being detected.

Gaz eventually gets sick of hiding all the time. He wants to make him yours. And you, officially his.

He took you out for a picnic, up high on a hill, looking right down to a field of sunflowers. How fitting. You were wearing your favourite sunflower dress that day.

You ran around the field, laughing, enjoying the rare chance of basking in the pleasant heat of late summer sun on your skin.

That beautiful smile of yours. The one he fell in love with. He want to keep that smile on your face forever.

“Come on Kyle!”

He laughed, shaking his head, motioning you to come back and sit down.

You drop yourself onto the picnic mat gracelessly, fanning yourself with your straw hat, trying to catch your breath. Gaz passed you a bottle of water, watching as droplets of water trickled down the chin.

He leaned in, wiping it away with his thumb before tugging you in for a deep kiss.

“... Marry me.” he whispered while both pulled away from each other for air. Digging out the ring from his back pocket, he adjusted himself, getting on one knee, “ First time Soap showed me a picture of you, I fell hopelessly in love with you. Even before I met you.” his eyes brimming with tears as he continued, slightly choking, “ Please marry me, my love, my sunshine. I promise I will cherish you forever.”

His hand slightly shaking, looking at you with round puppy eyes, waiting for your answer. You pulled away from him, a moment of panic appeared in his eyes until he saw you pulling out a little velvet box, and started laughing with joy.

It’s amazing both of you had the same idea, to do it on the same day.

Gaz’s mouth dropped open when he saw you walking down the aisle.

With the sun setting in the background, you look like an angel, in a simple pink chiffon sleeveless floor length dress, accentuating your pregnant figures beautifully.

He is on the verge of tears.

“Hello husband.”

“Hello my beautiful wife.” Looking down at the belly, lightly patting it. “Hello bub.”

Even though two of you are already married, as Johnny claims, “ to appease me and soothe my anger”, two of you decided to have a small unofficial ceremony and reception at your parent’s farm house, with close team members and friends invited.

Food and drinks flowing, laughter all round. Everyone was having a good time. It’s one of the rare moments Gaz sees his brothers-in-arms relaxing, not having a care in the world.

Leading you out of the gazebo and onto the outdoor dance floor, he twirls you around before pulling you back into his embrace, swaying around to a slow dance.

“How did I get so lucky?” Gaz murmured in your ear. You smiled as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, “I am the lucky one. A husband who loves me, a bunch of great friends, a loving family, well, as soon as Johnny’s anger subsides.” you laughed.

“Looking at the way he is flirting away with your friend, I think he is pretty anger-free.”

“Is that the third bottle of whisky Price is on???? I swear he is only here for the drink…”

“Let him be. My parents had a whole heap of vintages in the distillery cellar, kept for both Johnny and my special occasions.”

“ Well at this rate, there will be none left for Soap!” Gaz has to admit it was great to see his captain‘s eyebrow not knotted together for once.

“See that lady over there?” you tilt your head towards the far table and whisper like a great secret. “That’s the reason why Simon was messaging me.” Gaz chuckled. Now he knows the secret, he can get his revenge.

“Oh!” You yelp a little,as both of you feel the little baby kicking away. “Alright alright, daddy will dance with you as well.” Sliding one of his hands down,placing it gently on top of your belly, while the other is still holding yours, both of you continue to dance under the moonlight.

Life couldn’t be more perfect.

taglist:

@deadbranch

@josephquinnswhore

@lia0-0

@voxyin

@cotton-charms

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x female reader #sergeant kyle gaz garrick #cod mw2 #gaz need more love #gaz garrick x reader #task force 141 #time zone reblog

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woelfin-sheeps-clothing · 1 year

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I'm a huge fan of giving things that don't have tails tails, especially if it gives them a cute run in a video game. I love watching Ratchet's little tail bounce back and forth as he's running around, something about it is just too adorable. I love how they work mood indicators as well.

Part II of the work on progress on this piece. The sketch where it started is so rough in comparison to the line art. I'm still debating if I want to do screen tones like on manga or full color. Their clothes are still not beat up enough for my tastes, especially for two people who likely wouldn't have much income at the start and clothes that are likely borrowed. Where on earth did Daxter even get clothes for Jak?

#jak and daxter 2 #jak and daxter series #jak 2 #jak ii #jak and daxter #dark jak #jak x daxter #jaxter #wip fanart #wip #work in progress fanart #fan art #2000s nostalgia #time zone reblog #morning reblog

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gothdaddyissues · 1 year

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The Devil Came To A Small Town

Story Summary: In a bougie small town, a local witch strikes up a business relationship with the newly-arrived Satanic Church, setting in motion a series of events that lead to two misfits falling in love

Chapter Four available on Ao3

or under the cut (~5000 words)

PS - you can jump into this chapter without reading the others if you're just looking for a good time... 😉

THE DREAM - Izzy has a dream evoking her wild past and the skull painted man... and things get smutty.

⛧ Playlist for this chapter ⛧

ADULT CONTENT - 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI

Tags: OC female, Cardinal Copia/Papa IV, smut smut smut, Dom Papa IV, dubious consent (it's dream sex), rough sex, oral sex, rough oral sex, choking, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, unprotected sex, No Beta (we die like Terzo), Google Translate Italiano

Catch up here: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Saturday night at The Sanctuary was always the busiest. It wasn’t just the townies, but all the ultra-fashionable goths from the city would show up too. And it was Darkwave Dance Party night, so she knew it would be full of the fun, freaky types.

She was bored. Restless and horny. She wanted to drink until she was nice and loose, wanted to get lost in the seductive beat of the music. To dance, and hopefully get a little action if she could find the right guy to grind up against.

She made her way up the steps of the old Abbey, clad in a skin-tight, sapphire blue velvet slipdress and high-heeled, black leather thigh-high boots. This was an outfit that always got attention, and attention was what was craving. Her long, dark hair was flat ironed stick straight, her black winged eyeliner sharp enough to stab, her lips painted blood red. She was on the prowl tonight, a huntress in search of her prey.

She could feel the beat of the music from outside, recognizing it immediately as Love Like Blood by Killing Joke. A great start. The bouncers let her right in, knew her on sight as a regular. Her friends were probably already inside, but that didn’t matter to her. Tonight wasn’t about hanging out with her usual crew. She wanted something new and different to keep her occupied.

The main hallway was a sea of pale faces, studded leather, and black lace. She sliced through the crowd to the Vampire Lounge - the bartenders there poured a little heavier. The walls were hung with red velvet curtains and ornate brass sconces. Richly upholstered Victorian furniture was scattered between carved wooden tables and coffin-shaped bookcases. Tall candelabras stood every few feet, black candles dripping with melted wax. Long-haired Lestat wannabes lounged about, sucking on Hookah pipes and sipping Guinness Snakebites. Boring boring boring. Not why she was here.

The next song started - She’s In Parties by Bauhaus. Another favorite of hers. She took a seat at the bar, hailed a bartender, and got herself a Dirty Shirley with extra maraschino cherries. She took a deep swig, then sucked two cherries off of the plastic pick into her mouth - sticky, sweet, and juicy. It gave her a moment to survey the crowd, looking for potential suitors for the night. Lots of familiar faces and a few she didn’t recognize. Alas, no one stood out.

Until she caught a glimpse of him. Brief. Too brief. But enough of a look to build intrigue. It was the painted face that captured her attention at first. Sure, almost every face in this building was painted in some form. Not like this though. Stark-white skin with deep black circles around his eyes and a sharp, perfectly defined black contour that ran across his cheekbones and mouth. Skull paint. Dramatic much? Unique though. His salt-and-pepper hair was brushed back from his face, definitely an elder goth-type. In the few seconds she watched him she could feel the heat building low inside her. Yep, this was the one. He seemed a bit dangerous, and she liked that…. And also a little familiar? A spark of recognition, even though she was quite sure she’d never seen him here before. But as quickly as she had seen him, he turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

She downed the rest of her drink and ordered another, scanning the room to find him again. Was that him? The back of a jacket, distressed edges, elaborately laced from collar to hem, straight down the spine. He was heading for the Chapel, where the dance floor was. She followed, fresh drink in hand. She was feeling warm and fuzzy. Was it the alcohol or was it arousal? It didn’t matter - she was reveling in it either way.

The Chapel was across the main hallway from the Lounge, and the hallway was suddenly extremely crowded. So many people. They were an annoyance to her. She was searching for him. She’d catch sight of him, and then he was gone again. There and gone. There and gone. For a moment, she panicked, feeling like she might drown in this sea of bodies. But she worked her way through as the crowd ebbed and flowed, sluggishly pushing her forward towards the Chapel entrance like lazy waves rolling towards the shore.

She crossed the threshold into the Chapel, the ancient stone flooring throbbing with the beat of the music. This was once a place of worship, but now instead of an altar, there was a DJ booth. Instead of a crucifix dangling above, there was a wall of speakers. Pulsating lights hung from the soaring, arched ceiling, illuminating the writhing mass of people on the dancefloor in red, blue, gold, and green. Couples, groups, grinding, kissing, fondling each other under the stained glass windows. A hot and sweaty den of debauchery, profane and blasphemous. Sanctuary, but only for the wicked.

The DJ segued into the next song. Lucretia My Reflection by Sisters of Mercy. Oooh shit, she loved this one so much. She took one more deep drink from her glass and abandoned it on a nearby table before stepping onto the dance floor to sway and sashay to the music. She raised her arms over her head and twirled, letting go of inhibition…

There he was, her skull-painted prey, making his way through the crowd along the side of the dance floor. The mass of people parted to make room for him as if they were commanded to. Perhaps they could sense the power in him, the same sheer magnetism that was drawing her to him and making her ache inside. She continued to sway, watching him move, watching him work the crowd, seeing how they gazed at him in awe. Suddenly, he stopped, turning towards the dance floor and staring directly at her.

She could finally get a good look at him now. The artfully distressed jacket and matching skin–tight jeans. The black vest and silk shirt with a high collar and ruffled cuffs that almost completely covered his gloved hands. The royal blue cravat tied around his neck. The perfect goth daddy. Only then did she notice his eyes - one green, one white. That pang of recognition hit her again. He seemed so familiar to her.

She continued to writhe to the music as he stared down his nose at her, not relinquishing eye contact, looking every bit like a dom ready to tame his brat. Like he knew that was exactly what she wanted. Heat was pooling in her core. She had never needed a man so badly in her life.

The tables had turned. Now she was the prey, and he had her perfectly in his sights.

She closed her eyes and ran her hands over her body, from her ass to her waist, sliding up over her breasts and across her neck into her hair, all while dancing seductively. If he was going to stare, she might as well give him a show, right? When she opened her eyes again, he was gone.

She faltered, stumbling a bit as she stopped still on the dance floor, her eyes desperately searching for him in the crowd. Before she could turn to look around, she felt him. He was right behind her, his gloved hands coming to her waist, slipping down to her hips and gripping them tight, tight enough to bruise. He pulled her body against his, her back pressed to his front. She could feel how hard he was against the swell of her ass.

Oh yes, this is what she wanted. Needed. Craved.

The song faded into the next: Night Shift by Siouxie and the Banshees. A slow, sexy beat, dark and dreamy, just like the man holding her. It was hypnotic.

She slid her hands down and placed them over top of his, encouraging his tight grip as she rocked her hips to the beat of the music. Her ass wriggled back and forth, back and forth, teasing him further. He moved with her, rolling his hips into her in a luscious grind. She closed her eyes and dropped her head back against his shoulder, lolling to the side, lost in the sensation of his body on hers. His head dipped down, his lips barely ghosting over her exposed neck as he breathed her in, nuzzling her with his nose until his mouth was at her ear.

“Well, aren’t you a sexy little thing?” It was a whispered growl. “Did you come here to play tonight, gattina?”

His voice, his accent, sent a shiver right through to her core; his breath in her ear gave her goosebumps. She mewled in response, unable to form a coherent thought.

He turned her then, his gloved hands at her waist to move her so they were face to face. He pulled her flush against him once more. His left hand took a firm hold of her ass, his fingers digging into the pliant flesh while his right hand slid up to the back of her neck, bringing her face so so close to his and trapping her there. He lowered his forehead to hers, their noses brushing against each other’s, lips a hair’s breadth from touching. They stayed like this for a few moments, swaying together in time with the music. She felt his leg nudge hers apart, slipping in between them, his thigh pressing firmly against her. The hand on her ass nudged her forward and then pulled her back, over and over, slowly and deliberately, until she was riding this thigh, gripping onto the lapels of his jacket to keep herself upright. She was gasping, lost in the stimulation, completely in his thrall.

“Will you let Papa have his way with you, dolcezza?” he asked, his voice dripping with honey.

She nodded, enraptured, staring up at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Ah-ah… Words. Use them. I need to hear you say it. Or I stop, si?”

“Yes! Yes, please. Please Papa,” she whimpered. “Anything you want.”

“Anything?” His lips were at her ear again: “Be careful what you wish for, gattina.”

He backed off of her, taking hold of her hand and making his way off the dance floor and out of the Chapel entirely. She clutched at his hand with both of hers, staggering behind him in a daze. He sliced his way through the crowd expertly, as if he were intimately familiar with the layout of the building, leading her down the main hallway and through one of the back doors that led outside. The chill of the night air hit her overheated skin and set her shivering, but nothing but this man would tame the heat inside of her.

He led her to the old greenhouse that stood a few feet away. It was dilapidated and overgrown, with weeds and vines making their way inside through the broken windows. But there was privacy here, light streaking in from the main building providing enough illumination to see, yet still enough shadow to conceal them from view.

Once the door was open, he led her inside first. She stood breathless as he shut the door and turned to her. His face was half shadow, half light, the stark contrast only accentuated by the skull paint he wore. His one white eye practically glowed as he approached her, slowly, like a predator. It was equal parts terrifying and arousing. She instinctively backed away with each step he took toward her, even though she wanted to be ravaged by him. The thrill of the chase…

“You said you’d do anything,” he reminded her, taunting her as continued to approach and she kept stepping backward.

“Yes Papa,” she whispered, “And I will.”

They were quickly approaching the far wall of the greenhouse that was shared with the Abbey proper, made of stone bricks instead of glass. He picked up his pace, reaching out to her as her back hit the wall. Instead of touching her, he clamped his hands onto the brick, one on either side of her head, trapping her there while he stared down at her with a burning gaze, his pupils blown black with lust.

"So beautiful," he whispered, “Un giocattolo così grazioso per me.”

She was entranced by his eyes, only looking away to glance down at his full, parted lips, anticipating the kiss that had yet to come. It was a tease now, his lips so close to hers, his body pressing her hard against the wall so she could feel the large bulge of his cock against her thigh. Wholly intoxicated by the weight of him, the scent of leather and smoky spice, she couldn’t bear the wait any longer. She grabbed hold of the cravat hanging from his neck and wrapped it twice around her right hand, using the leverage to pull his lips to hers. It was a bruising kiss, hard and rough, wanton and sloppy and desperate. Her other hand went to the back of his head to hold him there against her lips. They were both groaning into each other’s mouths, knowing that this was only a prelude to more pleasure.

Finally, his hands were on her body, dragging the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders before tugging the bodice down to expose her breasts to him. The punishing kisses continued as he explored her flesh, his gloved hands covering her breasts, squeezing them, teasing each already-hardened nipple between a thumb and forefinger. He pried his lips away from hers, sucking and biting his way down her neck to the hollow of her throat before licking a stripe down over the swell of her breasts and taking each nipple into his mouth in turn, swirling around them with his tongue. She was whimpering, shuddering under his ministrations.

“Such sweet sounds you make for me,” he murmured against her skin, nibbling kisses back up across her chest to her face, eye to eye with her again. “But do you think I can make you scream, hmmm? Will you cry out my name when you cum for me?” He kissed her hard, sucking at her lower lip and nipping it with his teeth.

“Yes, Papa,” she said, her breath shaking.

He smiled wickedly, “Good girl.” He reached for her dress again, taking hold of the material bunched up under her breasts and sliding it further past her waist and over her hips until it slipped down her legs and landed in a pool at her feet. His eyes tracked the fabric as it fell but quickly darted back to hers once he saw that she was completely bare underneath it. “Well, well, you did come to play tonight.” The gloved hands were running all over her naked skin now, buttery smooth and hot. He kissed her once more and leaned in to whisper in her ear: “No more teasing. Spread your legs.”

She obeyed without hesitation and he wasted no time, expertly sliding the fingers of his right hand between her legs and into the soft folds that were already soaked in anticipation. The feel of the leather there was delicious, unlike anything she had experienced before. It had her moaning immediately. His left hand gripped her under the chin, his thumb and fingers on either side of her neck applying light pressure… with the promise of more. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to maintain eye contact with him.

“So wet for me already,” he purred, his fingers making contact with her clit, stroking and teasing. “So, so needy. You came here to get fucked tonight, didn’t you?” She gasped as he easily slid one finger inside of her, then a second a moment later. “Is this what you wanted, tesoro?” His thumb was on her clit now, applying sweet pressure there while his fingers pumped in and out of her at a languid pace.

She arched her back off of the wall, pressing herself into him, her eyes fluttering shut in blissful pleasure. His grip around her throat suddenly tightened.

“Eyes open,” he ordered. She complied. “You didn’t answer me. I asked you a question.”

“Y-yes Papa,” she stammered, “I… I wanted this.”

“Is this all you want?” He rubbed her clit harder.

She was getting close, the tension building heavy in her core. “Oooh….” she whined, “N-n-no”

He brought his face right up to hers again, their eyes locked. “Tell me. Tell me what you want, and perhaps I will give it to you.”

“I want…” she gasped, “I want you to fuck me. I want your cock.”

His eye contact was unwavering. “Good girls say ‘please.’”

“Please… P-p-please, Papa,” she begged.

“Mmmmm,” he cooed, finally satisfied with her reply, “I like the sound of you begging, dolcezza. I like it very much.” His fingers continued to work her as he slowly lowered himself to his knees, trailing light kisses down her body as he moved. “You will have this cock.” He lapped at her breast. “I will fuck you and make you mine.” His tongue swept from her sternum to her belly button. “But first, I want to taste you.”

He knelt between her legs, his fingers still buried deep inside of her. His free hand gripped her thigh and lifted her leg up and over his shoulder to ease access to her dripping wet heat. His thumb left her clit to be replaced with his tongue, at first lapping softly down through her folds to her entrance then back up to swirl around the center of her pleasure. He moaned at the taste of her, the vibration sending shockwaves through her.

“Papa!” she cried out, beyond caring if anyone heard.

That was the response he wanted. He moaned again, leaning his shoulder further into her, lifting her leg higher to press her harder into the wall, his hand firmly on her ass. She was completely at his mercy. His fingers went deeper, twisting, looking for that sweet spot inside of her to make her come undone. When she gasped and shuddered, he knew he had found it. He continued to tease it and sucked her clit into his mouth.

She couldn’t take much more. She had been on the verge of her orgasm before he even put his mouth on her, and now it was the point of no return. It was just too good - his fingers and his tongue worked her in ways she had never experienced, but somehow exactly as she needed. She slid her hands into his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it and holding on while she rocked her hips back and forth in time with his tongue, moaning shamelessly. He encouraged her, the hand on her ass supporting her as she chased her climax.

“Papa, Papa.. please don’t stop. Don’t stop!” Her legs shook as the tension within her finally snapped. “Papa… fuck! Jesus fucking Christ…” she swore and wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her, her hips undulating in time with his tongue as he worked her through it, unrelenting. He did not stop until he had wrung every last whimper and gasp out of her and she was a panting, trembling mess.

He removed his fingers from her gently, and slid them into his mouth, sucking away the wetness as he stood, humming with satisfaction. He took her into his embrace, one arm around her waist and one on the back of her neck, holding her through each shattered breath as she came down from the ecstatic high. “Mmmm, deliziosa. Così buono. Una ragazza così brava per me,” he whispered praise in her ear. His lips found hers, capturing her in a feverish kiss.

She could taste herself on his lips, and it thrilled her. She wanted more. She wanted all of him. She wanted to make him squirm and shudder as he had done to her. She broke off the kiss, using her tongue to swipe his slick-coated chin clean, then slid her tongue back into his mouth. He groaned, rolling his hips into her, pushing her back upon the wall, his cock painfully hard and straining against the seams of his skin-tight pants.

Before he could ask, or command, she was on her knees before him. Her hands gripped the front of his thighs and she leaned forward to place a sweet, gentle kiss on the bulge in his pants. She felt him tense up, a strangled “Fuck,” escaping his lips. She slid her hands down to his knees, up the back of his thighs, then splayed out her fingers to grab his ass and give it a good squeeze. Her hands lingered there as she nuzzled into his crotch, earning another groan from him. She looked up at him and saw his head tilted back, his eyes shut, enjoying the way she was fondling him.

The fastening of his pants was laced up like a corset and tied in a bow. She took the end of the string between her teeth and pulled to untie it, before walking her fingers up and across his waistband to work at loosening the lacing. He sighed as it came undone, no doubt relishing the pressure release. He looked down at her then, and his hand came to the top of her head, his fingers weaving into her hair as she peeled the fabric away to free him from his confines. He was bare underneath and his cock sprang free as she pulled the waistband down to his thighs. She expected him to be big after feeling him grinding on her, but she was not prepared for the size revealed… thick, hard, and ready for her.

“Suck me, principessa,” he hissed, those hypnotic, mismatched eyes locking with hers again. It wasn’t an ask, it was an order.

With her eyes still on his, she opened her mouth and skimmed her tongue around the tip, lapping up the pre-cum that was already leaking. Her tongue swirled and licked before her lips parted around him, taking him in with a hint of suction. She flattened her tongue and bobbed up and down the shaft, slowly easing the length of him into her mouth while bracing her hands on his thighs. He inhaled sharply, his fingers gripping her hair tighter now. She moaned around him, savoring the heavy feel of him on her tongue, the taste of him, and the tension of her hair wrapped in his fist.

He was moaning too, his eyes transfixed on her mouth. He was nodding, encouraging, and vocal - “mmm-hmm” and “yes” and “good girl” slipping from his lips repeatedly - but he still let her control the pace. She worked him deeper, deeper, until she felt him hit the back of her throat. Then she did it again. And again. She held him there for as long as she could, before coming up for air and stroking his length with her tongue once more, over and over.

Now he was groaning with each thrust, feral and animalistic, knowing that she was capable of taking the full length of him. He grabbed her hands off his thighs, taking tight hold of her wrists and bringing her arms up over her head. He bucked his hips, pushing her back flat against the wall again and pinning her arms against it. She couldn’t move. She was trapped and at his mercy as he face-fucked her, rutting his cock as deep as he could down her throat, while she sputtered and gagged on him. She didn’t know how much more she could take.

Without warning, he withdrew from her mouth and pulled her up to her feet by her arms. He turned her to face the wall, his hands positioning hers flat against it before sliding down her body to her back, forcing her to bend at the waist and step her legs backward to assume the position. She knew what was coming next.

His left hand gripped her hip hard, the leather of his glove burning hot on her skin. With his other hand, he set his cock against her entrance, teasing the tip of it up and down her slit. She was already moaning in anticipation.

“This is what you wanted, yes?” he growled. “You want this cock inside you?”

“Yes, Papa. Please…”

“Then take it,” he snarled, pushing all the way into her with one quick thrust. It knocked the breath out of her.

But he didn’t move. He was still, buried to the hilt, giving her a moment to adjust to him. There was an initial hint of pain as she stretched to accommodate his size, but having him so deep inside was exquisite. She clenched around him, her walls throbbing. He leaned over her, his hand coming up to cover hers on the wall, his fingers curling around hers. He peppered quick kisses along her shoulders and the back of her neck. It was unexpectedly tender considering how he was using her just moments earlier…

Until he stood straight again, his hands at her waist, pulling his hips back slowly and then forward into her. His pace was slow and deliberate at first, each thrust dragging along the delicate bundle of nerves deep inside her that he had found with his fingers earlier. She matched his rhythm with her own, pushing back against his thrusts to hit that spot harder, just so.

He snapped his hips harder, his pace intensifying, a jumble of words and groans tumbling from his lips. “Yes dolcezza… yes… f-fuck! So good… brava…. Bellissima…” He wasn’t going to last long at this rate, and neither would she.

His hands left her waist, and in a moment returned. He was holding something soft and silky in his hand. A scarf - the blue cravat he had worn around his neck. Now it was sliding around hers. He laid it taut around her throat and pulled… not too hard, but hard enough to cut off her air. Her right hand went to her neck, trying to grab a hold of it, to loosen it to no avail. He had it wrapped around his fist, twisting it tighter with each thrust of his hips. Her head tilted back towards him, her back arched, and she was seeing stars, gasping for breath. And he was groaning like an animal, his pace frenzied. His free hand fell between her legs, his fingers finding her clit and stroking her hard.

“Cum,” he demanded, “Cum for me now.”

The lack of oxygen dizzied her, enhancing the pleasure in the most brutal and unexpected of ways. One last swipe at her clit and the orgasm slammed her, her hips jerking and her knees buckling in ecstasy.

“P-p-papa…” she choked out.

The scarf loosened and fell away. He leaned forward again, his chest on her back, nipping at her shoulder before biting down hard, sending more ripples of twisted euphoria through her. Both of his hands came to the wall, covering hers with his own as she tried to hold herself up. His hips stuttered, his thrusts erratic. “Mine,” he snarled through gritted teeth, “Mine.” One final, powerful thrust and he spilled inside of her, moaning in pleasure and release.

They lingered there for some time, he still leaning over her back, his hands still on hers, their fingers entwined. Breathless, panting, blissful. Soothing kisses across her back and shoulders, his tongue laving over the tender spot where he bit her.

Carefully, he straightened up, slipping out of her as gently as he could. She whimpered at the loss. He helped her stand, peeling her hands off the wall and massaging her palms and her arms to ease the strain. He turned her to face him and took her in his embrace, planting more kisses to her hands, her fingers, her throat, her mouth - everywhere that had endured his domination. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes as his hands caressed her body and he comforted her with whispered words of praise. “Such a good girl for me, principessa. Mia dolce ragazza. Amore. Mia Bella…”

He kissed her then, soft and sweet. Her hand went to his cheek as she deepened the kiss, his mustache tickling her upper lip before she pulled away, pressing her forehead to his.

“Copia…” she murmured.

She opened her eyes to look at him. It was no longer the skull-painted man. It was the Cardinal. Her Copia.

“Ti amo, Bella,” he whispered.

Izzy bolted upright in bed, gasping. She was covered in a sheen of sweat, her body tingling from the aftershocks of the orgasm she’d just had. She clutched at her throat as if the silk scarf was still choking her.

It took her several moments to come back to reality. The bedroom was dark. Poe was staring at her, annoyed at the interruption of his sleep. She was panting, her hands covering her face, rocking back and forth to soothe herself.

“Holy shit,” she whispered to herself. “HOLY SHIT.”

She flopped back down on her bed, taking a pillow from beside her and wrapping her arms around it as she curled up in the fetal position and tried to calm herself.

“It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream,” she repeated out loud. As if that was going to change anything.

She knew it in her gut, but this all but confirmed it: the skull-painted man she had dreamt about was Copia.

#ghost #the band ghost #ghost fan fic #ghost fanfiction #my fanfic #time zone reblog

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sim-bk · 1 year

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So I've been reading "Not Yours To Bleed" by Coffeexandxangst and it's a masterpiece, I'm in love!! I wanted to draw something from it!

This is a picture from Neil's medical file with his new pro team -the New York Barons- and of course Andrew has to sneak around and do some snooping.

Guys go read it I swear it's sooo good!

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #the foxhole court #andreil #andrew minyard #the kings men #tfc fanart #fan art #aftg fanart #art #raven neil #time zone reblog

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jabean-fanfiction · 9 months

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Posted Chapter 17!

Title: A Light in the Dark

Author: Jabean

Summary: After arriving on Ahch-To in search of Luke Skywalker, Rey finds herself thrown into the past, during the time of the Galactic Empire, with the heroes and villains that she had heard stories about in the Jakku desert.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Rey/Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader

Tags: Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Star Wars: Original Trilogy Era, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Not Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, POV Third Person Limited, POV Multiple, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Force Training, Inhibitor Chips, Darth Vader Redemption, Older Man/Younger Woman, Slow Burn.

Read from the beginning on AO3

#star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #rey of jakku #anakin skywalker | darth vader #fic: a light in the dark #jabean’s stories #ao3 #chapter update #star wars #time zone reblog

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hardlyinteresting · 2 years

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Anymore

Dieter Bravo x F!reader 18+ if I know you in real life don't read this...

Each day without her gets harder, each night without him gets colder. Aka Dieter loves you and shoots his shot at some late night sexting Warnings: sexting, needy Dieter, needy reader, feelings, unhealthy but not toxic relationship, long distance smut...but still smut (nothing super graphic) if you want me to add anything else let me know

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

This is based on the song Demi Moore by Pheobe Bridgers: Listen here || Dieter Bravo playlist || Pedro Character Masterlist

Take a dirty picture babe. I can't sleep and I miss your face That is what the text says. But what he means to say is, please tell me you're awake. I think I'm losing my mind in this hotel thousands of miles away from you and I know I'm a mess but I love you. Please don't leave me.

It’s not too long before his phone lights up with her response; a single photo.

Her standing in front of the floor-length mirror that leans against the wall of their bedroom. She’s wearing a tank top with no bra under it and a pair of cute panties. Not lingerie by any means, but god she’s stunning. He zooms in, greedily taking in every detail of the image. Everything about her, from her exposed thighs to the sliver of her tummy where her shirt has ridden up to the way she tilts her head just enough that he can see through her reflection that she’s biting her lip makes his grip tighten on the phone, wanting nothing more than to feel her skin against his own. It’s been too long. He wonders if he woke her up, his heart clenching at the crumpled bedsheets he can see on the bed behind her. His phone buzzes with a follow-up text. He lets out an audible moan.

Tell me what you want to do to me. That is what the text says. But what she means to say is, I miss you, tell me you still need me. This bed is cold without you. Tell me you’re coming home soon. I know I can be needy, but I love you. Tell me you love me too.

She slips back into bed only half covered by the duvet as she curls herself around the stack of pillows from his side of the bed, passively hoping they might still smell like his cologne. She watches her phone waiting for his reply. Was she too much? Maybe he just wanted the picture? Maybe he passed out? She overthinks. Her eyes drift shut as her phone screen dims to black. Her phone vibrates her screen lighting up with a photo of Dieter lounging in the pool in their backyard.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” his voice is slightly muffled through the speaker, but still somehow, as soft and as gentle as it was when he was next to her, and not an ocean away. “Tell me what you’ll do. Please,” She sighs, wishing more than ever that she could touch him.

There's some rustling on the other line followed by a low pitched groan, “I’ve been thinking about that trip we took to Spain--the hotel room with the wall of mirrors”.

She can’t help but cast her gaze to the mirror across from the bed, her eyes meeting her own sends a shiver up her spine.

“Do you remember that baby?” He speaks again. She swallows hard, tearing her eyes away from the mirror, “Yes”. Yes. she remembers. How could she not? The two weeks of nothing but relaxation; both of them had shut their phones off choosing to spend their time together without distraction. The days they hadn’t spent sleeping in, drinking wine, taking naps in the afternoon sun, or swimming in the ocean were spent in their suite. He’d made good on his promise to take her on every surface in the room (more than once). Memories of their last night there fill her head as her hand makes its way beneath the waistband of her underwear. She remembers her back to his chest, her head tipped back against his shoulder, watching in the mirror as he whispered filth in her ear, the two of them falling apart more times than she could count. “Are you thinking about it now, pretty girl?”

A whimper in the form of a “yes,” passes through her lips.

“Fuck, I miss you”.

“Miss you too, Dieter,” she all but whines.

“Can you see yourself in the mirror baby?” He asks, voice low.

She nods, before the realization he can't see her hits, “I can,” she sighs, her eyes once again catching her own in the mirror.

He tries to picture her, sprawled in their bed, hand between her legs. Each gasp and moan makes him feel like he's on fire, his body buzzing with the need to be with her. Think of me, remember me, don’t forget about me, he silently pleads. His desperation claws at him, settling heavily in his chest; hollow and empty and begging for love. He moans feeling himself getting closer to the edge, “want you to cum for me”. She doesn’t reply, but he listens intently to her breathy gasps and cries. A broken cry of his name has him finishing unceremoniously in his hand and across his stomach. The loneliness lingers, and the emptiness remains.

When she catches her breath again she lays in silence staring up at the ceiling, begging for the tears to leave her eyes. She stretches out her arms feeling the unsympathetic chill of the untouched half of the bed. And she laughs. She laughs hard than she has in ages. Come home, I love you, don’t leave me, her mind cycles, but she laughs. Her heart races in her chest as she thinks of a million things to say to him, but she can’t get a single one of them past her lips. “I can’t breathe Dieter,” she tells him, her laughter giving way to the tears she’d been holding back.

“I can’t sleep,” he says, “I don’t want to be stoned like this anymore. I still miss you”.

And so they sit in silence.

“The sun is coming up,” she whispers. “Sleep,” he says. “Don’t want to be alone,” she confesses smushing her face back into his pillow. “I feel good about this project. I didn’t think it would take so long though”. “I know, Dieter,” she smiles, her eyes fluttering shut, “love you”. He takes a deep breath, choking back his own tears, “Love you”.

#Dieter Bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #pedro pascal characters #the bubble #dieter bravo x female reader #pedro pascal character x reader #cliff beasts 6 #time zone #time zone reblog #afternoon reblog

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rckyfrk · 2 years

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In a tiny town like Senoia, Georgia, there wasn’t much for a farm girl like Beth Greene to look forward to in the summer besides doing her chores. Still, it was the summer after her graduating high school,and she yearned for something fun.

A Bethyl Romance - available on AO3 and FFN

#bethyl #bethyl fanfiction #rckyfrk writes #what are queue waiting for?#time zone reblog

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hanafubukki · 2 years

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Hana’s Common Tags

These are the common tags I use when I do tag certain posts. I hope this will help anyone who needs to filter anything. I will update this post if I change anything. The tags in this post will give you an example of how they are labeled.

Tag you’re it/Tag game --> For any tag games I’m tagged in or tagging others.

hana fangirls/hana simps --> literally me fangirling when I remember to tag it.

Answered/Anonie asks --> any asks/anonie asks I answer

Hana talks ____ ---> when I am talking about a specific series, for example: Hana talks anime or Hana talks Moriarty the Patriot

Hanas thoughts: Ramdom thoughts/posts

Hana announces: Any announcements

Hana reblogs/time zone reblog: reblogs of mine and other works.

Twst Theories: Random theories I have.

Disney TW Spoilers/English Twisted Wonderland Spoilers/Twst Spoilers: Twisted Wonderland Spoilers, mostly for those in EN who don’t want to be spoiled. Warning: I don’t always tag spoilers, but I try for main story updates when I can.

Deflowered: tag for any suggestive/mature writings and reblogs.

🌷fic recs🌷: fics I would recommend and adore.

🌷author recs🌷: authors I recommend and adore.

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queenboimler · 4 days

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#dimension 20 #critical role #the adventure zone #d&d #mine personally was TAZ: Balance #and it consumed my life #also reblog!! esp if you put other im so curious #/ i want to find new d&d stuff to watch/listen to!!#ive only played irl a few times bc it is SO HARD to get a group of busy adults on the same schedule #my real pipeline to dnd was: tumblr gifs of mcelroy tv show->mcelroy tv show->mbmbam->taz balancs #so really tumblr was what led me to my path of d&d #i didnt really discover d&d until i was an adult bc table top games and other board games were banned in my home growing up #my brother and i came to blows constantly over the lord of the rings edition of risk that my mom just said NO MORE

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astrum99 · 1 month

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Righteous Hand of The Father

What Were You Made For?

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asukachii · 1 year

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It really is! 🎶

(I don’t like putting watermarks so, PLEASE, if you want to post this gif somewhere GIVE CREDITS! Thanks~)

#i would have said 'happy stampede saturday' but we know this episode won't be happy at all (..)#trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #vash plushie #trigun vash #tristamp #gif #my animation #asukachii #he dances #it's saturday where i live but i'll probably self reblog here and there during the day for other time zones #i'll upload the single animated plushie in a different post probably #maybe next week

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azularedemptionarcwhen · 8 months

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From this poll by @hamletthedane

#atla #this is the clone fucking poll sequel #it’s super late and I’m five time zones over so i’ll add img description in the reblog tomorrow morning!

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spydcddya · 2 months

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☾⭑ i will be constructing the new blog these next few days. those who would be interested in following the new blog, please like this post.

#it will give me an idea who to send the url to #and i’m very excited for the new beginning !!#i will be reblogging this periodically for the folks in different time zones #❛ ⦗ ᴄᴏᴅᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ☾ ∶ ⁎﹡☆ ᴛᴡɪʟɪɢʜᴛ ⁎ ( ooc )

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matchalovertrait · 1 month

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Diced Junior is finally here! We'll meet the judges in the next segment.

Next (Transcript under the cut)

Transcript:

(1.) [Andrea] Hello to all of our viewers! Welcome back to Diced Junior. I'm your host, Andrea Mixon. Let's go ahead and meet today's contestants. They're such a cute bunch!

(2.) [Andrea] First up, here's Rubiya Jabal! She was born and raised here in Tartosa; so watch out, everyone! You're on her turf. When Rubiya isn't cooking, she loves to go snorkeling. Also, she won this year's spelling bee at her school.

(3.) [Rubiya] I feel very honored being here. I am almost in disbelief.

(4.) [Andrea] Next, we have Lewis Mack who came all the way from Scotland! His family owns a farm, so he often uses the freshest ingredients. Lewis also likes to collect trading cards.

(5.) [Lewis] It is so fancy here! My new goal in life is to become a food critic living in Tartosa.

(6.) [Andrea] Then, we have Alex Marino! They're more of the quiet type, but they write for their school newspaper. Alex also enjoys skateboarding and playing the guitar.

(7.) [Alex] Can't lie. This is kinda cool.

(8.) [Andrea] Lastly, here's Dulce Alegria! This is also her turf. Her mom owns a fairly popular called Postres de Alegria. Also, Dulce is on the basketball team at her school.

(9.) [Dulce] I'm finally here!! I've been watching Diced Junior for years now. It's one of my favorite shows.

(10.) [Andrea] Chefs, your baskets for the appetizer round have been placed in front of you. Please open them up now to reveal the mystery ingredients.

(11.) [Andrea] Inside, you'll find merguez sausage, veggie flatbread...

(12.) [Rubiya] When I saw the first two ingredients, my mind was already flooding with ideas! I got excited.

(13.) [Andrea] ...pea shoots, and shakshuka sauce.

(14.) [Lewis] Wait, what is shakshuka sauce??? The other contestants don't look fazed. I'm competing with professionals. What am I even doing here? Am I an impostor? I'm such an eejit.

(15.) [Alex] I saw Lewis freaking out. Dude, chill out. Just try out the sauce. It's in front of you.

(16.) [Dulce] I tried the shakshuka sauce for the first time and it was DELICIOUS. I noticed it has a tomato base and anybody who knows me knows that I love tomatoes! Let's do this.

(17.) [Andrea] You have 30 minutes to make an appetizer using all four of the basket ingredients! The timer starts... Now!

#RIP lighting. i think it's the worst here out of all the other posts so i'll live. it gets better lol #who remembers when Dulce called Hilary a tomato but it was actually a compliment cuz she loves tomatoes #also i don't usually do time zone reblogs but i'll just do it for these cuz they're once a day anyway #dulce alegria #andrea mixon #rubiya jabal #alex marino #lewis mack #alegria legacy #tjolc gen 1 #tjol challenge #tjolc #matchalovertrait #sims 4 #ts4 #sims #sims 4 legacy #the sims 4

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unholyverse · 2 years

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ta da! i made a waterparks mini zine to give to them at sad summer fest :3 behold my hysteric work filled to the brim with tween magazine references, murder jokes, and the combined sense of nostalgia and cringing at outdated shit

#waterparks #awsten knight #otto wood #geoff wigington #parx #basically i saw the mcr boy zone tee and ran with it so hard i made this #okay if everything goes well this should post by the time i'd be out #if you don't reblog this i will rip you apart with my teeth #:)))))#ty to lasth3aven for helping me write the fake interview #i.jpg

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 4 months

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Someone Worth Loving | Yandere!Imayoshi Shouichi

for anon who asked "in which a popular s/o was the crush of imayoshi in first year until there year, but s/o didn't want to be tie down so they just play around, and yan! imayoshi was a delusional to think that he's special. i think imayoshi will be very oc, so feel free to change something hehe. i love your writing style and works" this was fun to write, challenging but also a good chance to have a think about yandere!imayoshi further and outside my usual box for him. he's not particularly delusional here - i just can't see someone as socially aware and intelligent as ima being a delusional yandere. but i figured the combination of a) him not being a control freak and being pretty laidback; having that darker side, but also not wanting people to perceive him as evil unlike hanamiya + b) probable abandonment/grief issues after losing his mum + c) liking prim and proper girls = a more intriguing and unique yandere than i usually give him credit for. so thanks for the ask anon, and without further ado... content warning for slight explicit-ness. this is a yandere fic - it's not romance, and it's written accordingly.

It was love at first sight for Imayoshi.

On that fatal first day, you skipped through the doors of the Touou classroom that you would share with Imayoshi for the next three years, holding hands with a ‘friend’ you had befriended just minutes prior (whom, Imayoshi already understood, would be forgotten about as soon as someone more suitable appeared to take her place), asking her where they should sit.

The other girl pointed to two empty desks near the front. That was when you let go of her hand.

“I just have to sit by the windows,” you said, not at all apologetically, as if it was a given, not even sparing a second glance at the girl beside you - her eyes a little wide, almost a touch teary as she realised that she was already being demoted to rank of Friendless First Year.

There was only one seat left near the windows. They’d have to split up. And the remaining chair was by fellow first year Imayoshi, who was pulling a pen out his backpack, pondering whether to ignore you or put on a show of bored confidence and do introductions.

As he pondered, you sat down beside him. Your knee briefly pressed against his. Then panicked, pulled away. You looked around the classroom as if you were ignoring your seatmate by accident, just curious about all the new faces. You had felt the sparks too.

It took only this long - just those few seconds - for Imayoshi to stumble across realisations that would affect the rest of his life.

(1) For all that confidence you showed off - confidence that, as you grew older, would become glam and men double your age wrapping their arms around your shoulders - you were an insecure coward like the crowds of girls who looked up to you from the distance.

(2) Imayoshi was feeling something. At the time, he called it curiosity; it would take later introspections for it to be correctly labelled as love.

Not that there was much reason to love you, at the beginning anyway. Though the two of you talked often, quick conversations in at least a couple classes a day, they were nothing but the usual seatmate discussions. You, an idiot, had cottoned onto the fact that Imayoshi was breezing through every class. You put on your usual batting-eyelashes persona, cutesy obsequiousness (“I’m so sorry to bother you again, but for number 13...”) punctuated with meaningless sweet-nothings (“Honestly, Shouichi, you’re the best. I love you.”), and who was he to deny your requests for help?

Of course, with anyone else, Imayoshi would have gotten fed up by now - the occasional question was fine, but in almost every lesson? - yet it was cute how you thought you could rely on him. Like you seriously believed that him talking you through integrating exponentials meant you could trust him.

When he’d walk into the classroom at break, while you were sat gossiping with all your girlfriends (an ever-expanding plague of copycats, B-rate versions of you), they’d all stop talking but you.

You’d say, “don’t worry about him - that’s my bestie, Shouichi. He’s literally saving my grade right now.”

And then everyone would go back to gossiping, and you’d flash him a quick smile, and Imayoshi would never comment on how he technically hadn’t given you permission to use his first name, or on how it was so fucking stupid of you to dismiss him as the nerd who let you copy his answers sometimes. Like he didn’t have ears; like he was just one of your pawns; like he didn’t own you.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. Maybe. But Imayoshi did in fact have ears, and he was a being with agency who overheard plenty of gossip and rumours, gossip that could destroy your sweet little reputation - not to mention your relationship with your parents - if he so chose. The fact that he didn’t was chivalry in action. Anyone else would have faced his bored wrath - he’d already manipulated a few rumours such that you had discarded one of your close friends on account of them.

Yet, for the time being, he was content letting you bathe in the sunlight.

After all, he couldn’t have his future wife kicked out of school for being a pathetic, needy slut who couldn’t let a party finish without having at least slammed her lips on at least one total stranger.

If you got expelled, you wouldn’t be in the yearbook. And then what would the two of you reminisce over, twenty years from now, cuddling on the sofa?

So he tried to be content with observing you, playing his part as the polite nerd, and it worked for over a year. There were highs (you cheering him on during the final basketball match in your first year); there were lows (you had brought some brainless baseball jock to the match). But Imayoshi endured. Imayoshi took his time. Imayoshi let you gush over how happy you were to be sitting next to him again in your second year - “you’re my guardian angel, Shou-chan”. Imayoshi turned a blind eye to the partying and the boys, who lingered by the classroom door hoping to catch sight of you, and the never-ending stream of friends, and the way you’d smile at him like you adored him, only to switch it off as soon as the class was over. As soon as you had no more use for him.

Imayoshi, mature for his age, understood that he couldn’t make you who he wanted you to be overnight. Unfortunately, it seemed that girls like you just had to go through this phase.

It was in the third year that things went downhill.

When it rains, it pours. On the first day of term, you hadn’t greeted him when you entered the classroom, too busy texting frantically on your phone, a new fluffy pink keychain dangling from it that didn’t match any of your girl friends’ and so had to be a gift from a stranger.

Imayoshi had greeted you, of course.

But when you had looked up briefly to smile and say hi back, he had been demoted: "Shouichi" instead of "Shou-chan".

You were working harder than before too. Suddenly, the two of you were working in silence side by side, your hair falling over your face, hiding it from Imayoshi. You never once tucked it behind your ear to ask Imayoshi for the answers to the next section. You just sat and wrote away, like you fancied yourself the best in the class now. Clearly, you’d been studying over the holiday. Fine. Good even - Imayoshi couldn’t marry a complete fool, even an obedient housewife needed some brains. But to reject him because of it? Discard him like all the other toys you got bored of using?

He felt his anger swell and spin in a strength of feeling he had not known since his mother died. Murder occurred to him; abduction no longer seemed unreasonable. He tucked away duct tape and rope and sleeping pills in a shelf his sister could not reach, locked it for good measure, and spent his nights tossing and turning and questioning his own identity.

He heard rumours you were in trouble. Kicked out the house, financial issues, an abortion: almost everything got mentioned. Someone had a friend whose mum was a cop, and apparently you’d been visiting the police station following a domestic violence case, a prostitution case, or maybe just a mugging. The specifics were unclear and frequently changed, but Imayoshi took sight of the bruises on your neck and arms, just visible under layers of concealer, and on he went pondering.

He would never get the truth out of you directly, no. These days, whenever he entered the classroom at break, you and your few remaining trusted friends whispered until he left. The trust was gone; and the gossip no longer appropriate for male ears to hear.

A complete stranger would have been treated in the same way. A stranger.

He’d put so much work into you, spent two years as a loyal servant, letting you feel smug and superior, and this was what he fucking got for it?

"Imayoshi was not rash," he told himself.

"Imayoshi wants to be rash," his reflection parroted back to him.

“Imayoshi?” called Susa, nudging him in the middle of a study session, “you okay?”

“Tired,” replied Imayoshi, realising that the page in front of him was still empty.

He smiled an easy smile, and forced the thought of you out of his mind before he snapped his pencil in two.

----

And “he’s tired” was what Susa repeated when Harasawa, fiddling with his hair, asked why Imayoshi acting a bit out of it today.

The coach glanced at Imayoshi with critical eyes, and saw a stranger in him. “Do you want to take a break?”

“I’ll be alright.“ Imayoshi forced the familiar grin across his lips yet again. “Some match play will wake me up.”

The last thing he needed was some time away from basketball. For every minute he wasn’t concentrating on the game, he was thinking of you smiling at male ‘friends’, you cuddling up with police officers, you flirting with strangers on the street, you and that miniskirt you wore everywhere outside of school and the men who would stare and you feeding into their attraction, and they’d put a hand around your waist and let their fingers slip underneath your tights, and they’d murmur “hotel?” to you, and you’d rub up against them and-

Sakurai passed the ball to Imayoshi, and the captain dribbled and felt a moment’s peace. He passed it back to Wakamatsu, standing ready under the hoop-

You’d be pulling off your clothes real slow, really teasing them, and they’d be touching and licking and sucking on that skin that belonged to Imayoshi alone. They’d throw you to the bed; you squeal, maybe whimper at the big bad man standing in front of you. God you’d be noisy, slut that you are - you wouldn’t talk to Imayoshi any more but you wouldn’t shut up for these salarymen (why did Momoi have to mention that word on the street was you were in the JK business now? If hearing of you being with classmates wasn’t torture enough!), even when you were gagging you’d be crying out, tears in your eyes, and maybe they beat you, maybe they ground into you until you couldn’t walk, your underwear ripped, miniskirt stained around your hip, lying hopelessly on a bed in an empty room, your skin littered with both hickeys and bruises.

Maybe you’d pray for a better life. The audacity to pray having spent all these years betraying him.

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” muttered Susa in the changing room, briefly squeezing his friend's shoulder.

Imayoshi looked around feeling like he’d awoken from a nightmare.

Everyone but Imayoshi had long finished changing out of their kit. People were talking, laughing, bouncing a spare basketball against the wall. Aomine, despite being a known virgin, was proudly announcing his list of the easiest lays in the school. Your name came in at number two. And before Imayoshi could ask Aomine how he knew that if all he spent his free time doing was jerking off to magazine pages, Wakamatsu interjected.

Wakamatsu told Aomine not to talk about you like that.

Wakamatsu was blushing.

"You fucking siren," murmured Imayoshi under his breath, thinking of the way you used to bat your eyelashes at him.

Something about the blonde made Imayoshi see mistakes like never before. God himself couldn’t have made it any clearer. Imayoshi had let you run wild for too long, and in your own sickness you had diseased everyone else too. You had brought shame to yourself, and - worse - to the Imayoshi name that you would one day take on as your own.

It was time to remind you to whom you belonged. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be too late to make you an honourable housewife, an obedient little dog.

“You still there?” said Susa with a little more concern, nudging Imayoshi again.

“Don’t worry,” and this time Imayoshi didn’t need to force that closed-eye, cruel grin. “I’ve got something to sort out, and then I’ll be back to normal.”

He would teach you that he had never been your toy.

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