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glammiketrash · 9 months

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Monty didn’t attack Bonnie. Freddy did.

This post is not a joke: Ruin gives us enough clues to know that Bonnie was attacked by Freddy the day he disappeared, and Monty saw the attack.

Word count: 2457 words.

Yup, I wrote an entire essay with pictures to take the blame from a fictional gator that became my comfort character. If someone from Steel Wool is reading this: Yes, I’m ok, thanks for asking. If you want to send a cute Monty picture to my inbox, it is open and I’ll be all over the place if you do it.

Now, let me take you with me on this wild ride, because this theory fits the narrative of both Security Breach and Ruin so well that I have to clap at Steel Wool if it is actually correct and not me playing with the puzzle pieces incorrectly. So, here we go!

Bonnie, judging by the golden eyes and his travel pattern, was protecting someone like Freddy did with Gregory. Important damage was directed to the stomach hatch, where a kid could hide.

He has claw marks there, but Monty didn’t got his until the first was decommissioned and was then modified to play his bass.

The scratches in his hatch are green, but also the cracks over it. It looks like it is his base color instead of paint left by the attacker. The next video is from FazFriends, where they look at every single detail in the Ruin animatronic models. Their analysis are totally worth your attention if you like SB!

youtube

Monty has black nails, even before he was modified to play Bonnie’s bass. They also are kinda blunt, and the marks the attacker left seem more clean and sharp in the ends.

Now, there aren’t lots of animatronics that have claws. We have Roxy (and I’m guessing Foxy, if he ever existed as an animatronic different to her), The mimic/Burntrap, who doesn’t really seem an option because he’s slow and in life support in SB and sealed in Ruin, and… there’s Freddy. But, and here’s the twist, not normal Freddy, who couldn’t get through gates like Monty until he got his claws.

I’m talking about this thing.

Not only do we have environmental clues that confirm this attack, but also a key clue that wouldn’t make any sense otherwise.

Let’s start with the Prototype itself!

Check those claws. They are sturdy enough to survive all the damage this model has received, and extremely sharp at the end. Now compare Bonnie and its hand together…

It’s a perfect fit. The metal is a bit bent in the left, but if you could lower it, the finger length, the palm, even the distance and shape between the thumb and index are the same than the hole in Bonnie’s chest.

If that detail is true, all pieces of the narrative fit together. Here’s what happened, which I will explain further adding sources:

Monty saw Freddy’s prototype attacking Bonnie (who was in safe mode) in Gator Golf’s catwalks. The hurricane hole-in-one was activated, causing them both to fall. He could see the prototype losing its head and taking damage to its leg, but Bonnie was nowhere: he was either able to go back to Bonnie Bowl by himself using the distraction or the fall knocked him out and was dragged there, where he was heavily damaged.

This next part is not so clear, so I’ll give you my version of what I think happened that night: Bonnie alerted police that a kid was in danger. They show up, but Vanessa sent them away, claiming she was the only person there and it was a prank call (False Alarm message in SB). Vanny uses Bonnie’s trust on Freddy against him: she sends the prototype to go after the kid and him. He makes it to Monty’s, where the hurricane causes damage to the prototype, and is then finally attacked and disassembled behind his attraction to silence him and bury any clue or what happened (his parts are all over the place, one of his arms has weel marks, and Ruin follows the PQ ending where Freddy is disassembled. In SB, endos come out from the lines to attack us, and in Ruin we see the zone where his vanity is infested with STAFF robots, both in its normal version and in VR, where a giant STAFF robot is seen being dragged to a door while it leaves scratch marks on the floor).

Fazbear Entertainment pretended they actually looked for Bonnie and found nothing at all. As a final punishment for his disobedience he was actively being erased from existence: most of his art was removed, and some ask for a re-theme of his attraction (Re-theme SB message). They make Monty the main bassist, giving him his green room too.

These changes are being quickly pushed after his decommission: Bonnie still has power when we find him, Monty falls from the catwalks “a month ago” and snaps in half, a place where he goes every time he skips a performance (Monty Mischief SB message), people constantly ask for Bonnie and there isn’t an approved answer to give, the bowling alley still wasn’t given a re-theme after taking out most of Bonnie’s images.

Despite FazEnt efforts, Bonnie is remembered, specially by a depressed Monty.

His body was modified, he was given his bass, his glasses, his room, his role. The higher ups clapped thinking about the possibility of him being even more popular than Bonnie, his disappearance becoming yet another opportunity to make money.

And it was Freddy’s prototype’s fault. His normal life, the person he admired the most, his own body, were taken from him because of him.

From that day, and after getting new claws, his attitude becomes obsessive, endlessly searching for what was left of Bonnie after the rest gave up: destroying fences to explore the undergrounds, constantly missing shows and always being found in the catwalks, even after being snapped in half by the hole-in-one bucket, trying to guess where his body was. His last known location was his attraction, so he should still be there somewhere, isn’t it?

Let me repeat this: he prefers looking for Bonnie in the catwalks even at risk of his own integrity than performing.

There are more details that show us he does care for him: there are four official images left of Glamrock Bonnie in the PizzaPlex, three of them in Monty’s ride, the last one at the entrance of his own attraction, where some animations can still be seen. These cutouts are in perfect shape, while Freddy’s is light off.

There is also a headless Freddy statue that once you go to FazerBlast screams “prototype”.

It looks like it’s been decapitated by a hurricane, some “cables” coming out of its head like the prototype, which has cables coming out of its neck.

This damage couldn’t have been caused by the earthquake: the head should had fallen to the ground instead of being pinned on the hurricane. Plus, it doesn’t match the theme of the ride, based on cutouts, and while the rest of the elements are placed in scenarios and their composition is clearly studied, this statue breaks the symmetry of the hurricane’s eye element, that is supposed to give you the illusion that you are entering its eye and being pushed out to the main attraction.

What’s more, in a story exclusively about Monty’s past and how he became a solo bassist in the PizzaPlex thanks to Bonnie, attracting the same amount of people than the Glamrocks themselves, a Freddy statue at the end doesn’t make any sense sense at all… Unless it was put there with a very particular purpose.

I like to think it’s part of an environmental story telling from Steel Wool, specially when you read the rest of clues together.

There’s more to say about this statue than the lack of a head: look at its leg damage, and how it matches the prototype’s heavily damaged one, and how the hand that is visible reflects the light making it look like it has long claws despite Freddy having short ones like the rest of the band.

It also has two blue long lines through his chest that resemble the ones in Bonnie’s.

If you still have doubt about how it is part of a scene representing the night of the attack, then you should know there is an easter egg here: if you follow the part of the tornado that goes up, you can see a Bonnie cutout at the very top of it. He’s far away from the rest of the scene and he looks like if he was being knocked by the tornado. If you zoom to look at his face, you can see he has a worried expression.

Monty didn’t destroy any of the images of Bonnie or his previous iterations, not the cutouts, not this poster, not the bass that belonged to him, even after causing damage to his room.

There is a detail in Gator Golf that is easy to miss: An intact poster of the original Bonnie near a log he uses as a hideout in Ruin (we see him quickly going out of it when we approach it).

He looks similar to the illustration at the entrance of Bonnie Bowl, but this image is not very charming. He looks half dead, yeah...? If you then go to Bonnie’s, some big screens are still on and advertising pizza. When you wear the mask, they change to a glitched version of the Bonnie animation, where his eyes go blank in a similar way to this poster.

This spot couldn’t have been used by Vanny: it is decorated exactly like the rest of Gator Golf in the base game, which ends with us saving Vanessa and exiting the PizzaPlex together.

The poster also has a drawing of Freddy stuck on it. In this chapter you can also find the Bonnie’s piñata collectible, the first time we can see his Glamrock design and the first clue of him having suffered an attack (it has a big gash in his chest).

He could have easily taken it down if he wanted, specially when it is so close to his hideout and he’s in such a volatile state, but he keeps it right beside it.

But the real Freddy (or, at least, things that resemble him) seems to cause some kind of reaction even in the base game, yes?

The most common example in Security Breach is the arcade version of Monty’s Gator Golf. There are two possible readings for it, depending on if you think it represents Monty’s mind or if you think it has been hacked to change his behavior.

Hole 1 depicts Freddy separated from the group, a big distance between them. Hole 9 shows him in a dumpster, and Chica, Roxy and Monty playing together. He’s never part of the group, so either Monty hates him or he was hacked so he would hate him, right?

But the main show were he looks happily at him while playing, the fact that he never attacks him even after being hacked, the presence of images of him on other holes all perfectly light and ok like this balloon, and the eye color difference between Hole 1 and 9, make me think Steel Wool is trying to tell us a way different story.

The Freddy in the dumpster is the only one with golden eyes. Hole 9 represents what is happening the night we play as Gregory, the AR part of the AR-cade, and of the main reasons the Monty taking down theory was so popular.

That night, Roxy, Chica and him are working on finding the kid to the point that their cases crack and get dirty, while Freddy not only glitched at the start of the show hours before, but is now also walking around the PizzaPlex doing NOTHING instead of helping (apparently).

It’s the animatronic equivalent of a group project were one of the members does nothing, so you have to do their part and then they show up and are praised. It makes sense he would be angry at the situation and think he’s trash, but even so, there are no real confrontations between them.

But what about Hole 1, then? The answer is the fireflies. There are some fireflies at the left part, but the right, where Freddy is looking, has other set of lights. If you calculate the distance from Chica to him, the center is almost where the hole is, the part of the arcade that is supposed to drag your attention. Having an empty space there feels uncomfortable and a very questionable decision from whomever designed the scene, but if this one is a reflection from reality or Monty’s current mind state, why aren’t Freddy’s eyes gold?

Well, I don’t think he is separated from his band.

I think someone is missing from the picture instead.

Bonnie was erased from the Arcade.

As it was said, these changes were quick and non-planned: they deleted his model from the arcade, but had no time to move and reprogram the positions of the rest of the characters so the space between them was filled. As a consequence, when you play this level, your attention is taken from the hole to the distance between them.

It is void, awkward, it makes you uncomfortable. You know something is missing, but you can’t quite tell what it is yet. It makes you wish there was one more character there even before you knew there actually was.

Once you learn what happened, how his story ties to the place this scenario represents, the void he left in Freddy and Monty specifically, Hole 1 gains a new meaning, and it hits you. When you go back to the PizzaPlex as Cassie and play the arcade, there’s no joy left there. No fireflies, no Glamrocks, just ruins. Two pairs of red eyes and a pile of Nightmare STAFF bots. That’s all that’s left.

But if you still need one more clue to convince you that the prototype was the one that attacked Bonnie, then let me tell you there is a final one that wouldn’t make sense otherwise:

The AR collectibles dialogue.

Cassie always makes a commentary about the things she finds: Monty’s AR plushie being very glitchy, how she wants to add Roxy’s one to her collection, how the her father wouldn’t tell her why they replaced Bonnie and how he was his dad’s favorite…

But she also asks him what happened to him, and gets an answer when she gets the last collectible.

The AR Golden Bonnie is hidden in Bonnie Bowl, next to a Wet Floor Sign bot.

She hasn’t been to Fazer Blast yet.

But the description answers the question that she asked him: a prototype.

Bonnie was decommissioned by Freddy’s prototype.

And the only ones that know are a kid lead to her death that can hear his agony through the Wet Floor Bots and unreal collectibles, and an animatronic blamed for his death and told he’ll never be him, obsessed with his loss and with finding whatever is left of the person that he admired the most and helped him become the star he once was.

#ruin spoilers #cassie fnaf #fnaf ruin spoilers #fnaf spoilers #montgomery gator #bonnie bunny #glamrock bonnie #ruin dlc spoilers #security breach #Monty didn't decommission Bonnie #fnaf theories #Glamrock Freddy #prototype freddy #ruin prototype #monty gator #the monty is innocent tag

3K notes · View notes

ellcgrxce · 2 years

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you don't want to be in a relationship

"false."

#inbox. / answer #inbox. / true or false

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rrivcr · 2 years

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you don't like change

"t -true...false. no, true."

#inbox. / answer #inbox. / true or false

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mclxnie · 2 years

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you get homesick

"true."

#inbox. / answer #inbox. / true or false

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tcmmyyo · 2 years

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you care a lot about reese

"true."

#inbox. / answer #inbox. / true or false

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yaut-jaknowit · 20 days

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So somehow Gawtin or her human lover get ahold of a strap on :3

False Control

Pairing: Gawtin (female Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Strap on, wlw, lesbian sex, cunnilingus.

Word Count: 3926

Summary: Gawtin comes to you with a silicone dildo. She wants you to use it on her. The first time you are able to fuck her the way she deserve. Despite her allowing you to top her, she's always in control.

Author Note: I know I say this every time but I love our girl Gawtin. Sexy motherfucker who could twist off my head and I'll thank her. Also, I didn't know who was suppose to use it so I took the chance to write about our goddess getting dicked down.

P.s. I'm sorry but I'm gonna have to close asks. I didn't expect nearly thirty to be sitting in my inbox right now. Plus, I'm falling behind in my writing right now. Work has been rough with summer coming and people fucking calling out. So fun.

Masterlist

Ao3

In your hand, the silicone was heavy and thick. A concerned look passed over your features when you glanced up at Gawtin. “This is the average size for a male?” you exclaimed, eyes darting between the fake phallus and those gorgeous purple eyes of hers. Gawtin had given you this after visiting the market today. The two of you have been talk about getting an item like that.

One of her upper mandibles lifted with a smirk. “Yes.” She bent at the waist to pinch your chin between her thick digits. “And that does not even include the knot.” Your eyes widened. You had forgotten that small detail. Males had a knot… part of their breeding and such.

Your bottom lip was caught between dull teeth, eyes raking down her form you knew so well but loved just the same. “I wish I could knot you,” you uttered softly into the air, dazed by checking your green Yautja out.

The grasp on your chin tightened and tugged you towards her. Her warm breath fanning over your face. “Is that so?” All you could do was just nod with your eyes softening. Her long, skinny tongue darted out and teased your lips for a second. “You will not be able to but you have a chance for something else,” she purred with a hint to why she bought that.

It’s the classic Qui-oki visiting his aunty again for the night. Bziut-ty knows the drill by now. Every time you left her dwelling after dropping Oki off, a heavy blush burned your cheeks. Yet, the sister to Gawtin was nonchalant about it. She happily took Qui-oki for the night with no complaints.

You attempted to wrap your fingers around the base of the shaft but came up short. “Are you sure this isn’t going to hurt you?” you couldn’t help but question. This thing would tear you into two without any preparation. For her, it seems like she could take it with little foreplay into the mix. No matter what, you would still do at least some foreplay. If not for her sake, for yours to make you feel more at ease before shoving this massive thing inside of her.

Gawtin chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I am more than sure, artful one. I want you to watch as it splits me open and I take it fully in. I cannot wait to see that look of surprise on your face.” She grinned and released her hold on your chin with a last kiss.

“Well… if you’re sure,” you trailed off and glanced down the hardwood floors of the house. Gawtin patted your head.

“Do you want to test it now?” Your head snapped to look up at her towering form.

“Like, right now?” It was stupid to question her like that but you couldn’t believe she was wanting to do that now. She just bought it. Well, that’s true. She did just buy it. Who doesn’t want to try a new toy the day you received it.

The forest green Yautja snorted and stepped further into your personal space. A space always welcomed for her. One of her hands splayed across a large portion of your back and pushed you to her. “Yes, this very second.”

Both of you were into your shared bedroom in less than a second. A giddy smile gracing your feature to hide your nerves. Despite her attempt to cool your anxiety, but the fact this thing was massive in your hands… you thought it was going to hurt her. Though, she does a little pain, biting and scratching are always welcomed.

The yellow toy was set on the bed. You stood before her, still fully clothed. Something Gawtin was going to fix. She hooked a claw on the strap of your tank top and pulled on it. Though, she could easily tear it off of you and replace it just the same, she gave you the option to remove it yourself. You raised a brow, eye flickering down to her own clothing.

“Honey, I think it’s you that needs to strip,” you pointed out, nearly demanding your mate to strip before you. Every time, you loved the sight of her muscles and even slightly pronounced breasts from breastfeeding Qui-oki.

Gawtin had to teach you a lesson. The massive female grabbed a handful of the clothe and ripped it straight off of your torso. You didn’t expect less from her and gave the green Yautja a deadpanned look. She ignored it by lowering herself onto her knees and cupping one of your freed breasts now. “I prefer to see you bare and at my will,” she purred and bowed her head to lick at your pebbled nipple. A low groan sounds from the back of your throat.

Your jaw drops at the feeling. “Gawtin, please. Be nice and strip for your mate,” you pleaded with the stubborn female. You saw the fire in her eyes flicker to life. Her tongue trailed up, followed by her lower mandibles up to the vulnerable column of your throat. They carved a path till your jawline before slipping off. You shuttered, body covered in goosebumps.

“Hearing you beg is Paya’s grounds,” she whispered against your ear, tongue ghosting over the shell of you ear. “Be good and ask properly.”

Now, you were beginning to pant, even with the light, little touches she gave to you. With your brows furrowed and lip pushed out, you up at her. “Gawtin, I want to see your body. I’ll be good. I promise. I want to fuck you. You’re so pretty. I want to see you take this dildo. Will you let me?” you rambled and your beautiful mate a look you knew she couldn’t resist.

“That is a good little ooman,” she praised and tapped your cheekbone with a claw. “All you need to do is ask sweetly, just like that.” Gawtin stood back up and stripped her body of any clothing.

Dumbly, all you could do was stand watch each piece of clothing fall away. It was like the first day you saw her naked. Adoration sparkled in your eyes even after the last article was placed to the side. “God, you’re my pretty woman,” you muttered and reached out to squeeze her hips. Your head only reaching her midriff, shoulders level with her hips.

She snorts and motions her head over to the bed. “Get the harness on, artful one. I’ll help adjust,” she ordered with a soft tone but you knew to listen to her. You padded over to the end fo the bed and found the item she told you about.

A black, simple harness that’s been modified for someone of your smaller stature and to fit the tank of a dildo she wants. It was simple enough to pull it up and secure it to your hips. Gawtin’s warm hands helped to tighten the harness so it wouldn’t fall off nor was it too tight. The toy itself was secured as well to the designated spot.

Your hand wraps what you can around the base and gave the firm silicon a few strokes. Your lover lies down on the bed and spreads her legs. You follow after her and kneel between her legs, eyes softly gazing at her. “Can I warm you up, my pretty warrior?” you asked with a hopeful gaze.

The Yautja raised a brow at you, letting the tension build up between you two. Then, her massive head dipped down in permission. You silently cheered and bent down, face to her exposed cunt. Though this wasn’t your first time, you still took in the sight.

Alien, but in a good way. Three clits, though longer than usual. You’ve learned they can grow up to two inches long when aroused. The folds themselves are ribbed and even inside are too. Definitely alien. And you loved it.

Softly, you wrapped your lips around the top clit, the biggest of the three. One of your thumbs runs a path along what would be considered the labia. The pad ghosting over the nubs that lined her entrance. Gawtin’s thighs tensed but refused to clamp down on your head, taking your fragile self into consideration. You lightly suckled on the sensitive nub you pulled into your mouth and ran your tongue over the flushed skin.

Her breath hitched while watching you, resting on her elbows. “Keep going, little one. Do not stop,” she commanded, voice in between soft and firm. Gawtin rolled her hips slightly against your face, your thumbpad teasing her nubs harder. You took it as a sign to press against the little sensitive bumps harder. She responded the way you expected her. A short growl escaped her throat. “That’s it.”

From the top clit, you moved to the one on the bottom left. That drew a soft sound from your mate. Her thighs flexed at your sides, barely moving any closer to you. You dipped a thumb just past her entrance to dampen the fingertip. The moist digit glides across the bumps easier, gaining a pace you she enjoyed.

The clit was released once it was flush with blood. For the first time, you tongued at her entrance and tasted her again. Your muscle scooping up what was possible and drinking in her taste. Such deliciousness that couldn’t be contested. You hummed, eyes hooding over, and returned to finishing the last clit. Her sweetness makes it hard to focus on one thing at a time. You just wanted to dive back in and consume the taste she created.

As you sucked, you slipped two fingers, just the size of one her own, into her. Her strong muscles rippled around your digit, trying to suck it in more. You stopped at the knuckle and kept your hand vertical. With those two fingers, you find a well defined ribbed area and push.

Gawtin growled lowly in her throat, muscles throbbing around your fingers. God, you loved that sound and the feeling. You continued to rub a small circle around the area and returned to loving on the first bud. It slightly twitched in your mouth, at it’s full length at this point.

“You know me so well, little one. Know all my spots. Such a good little artist,” she cooed, head rolling back and neck fully exposed. You hummed around her clit and sent vibrations up the length of her spine. Her thighs pressed against the sides of your head before pulling back. “Paya, you are playing a dangerous game, teasing me like that.” You smirked silently to your self and started to pump your fingers. Another finger added to the ring.

It barely did anything to stretch her out. Your hand being too small for the job. That didn’t bother more than did it worry you instead. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt her in a bad way. You added your last finger inside of her and kept pumping away.

Her arousal began to leak down the swell of her cheeks as you drew it out from her. You abandoned her throbbing buds to dip down and lick up what spilled. Your hand was withdrew from her and was replaced with your mouth. The taste of her returning to your tastebuds. A hum sounding from your pleased state.

In such a state, you didn’t even realize your hips were rutting against the mattress until you felt her hand on your hip. They stilled under her touch; breath caught in your throat. Your own slick was starting to drip down the inside of your thighs. The scent mingling with hers.

The hand slips more from your hip and towards your entrance. You mewled with her fingertips ghosted over your dripping folds and swiped up some of your arousal up. Gawtin brough it up to her mouth and licked off the sticky substance staining them. You shuttered and doubled down on her, tongue scooping what you could at the source.

Your mouth returns to her sensitive clits, hand diving back to rub at the spot deep inside of her. Gawtin’s walls started to pulse around your hand. Her noises gaining pitch, hips thrust harsher against your face. You severely focused on her, letting every other thought fall away besides just hurt.

With your other hand, you wrapped it around one of her thighs and pulled yourself snug with her. When her muscles clamped down on your fingers, you felt the bones creak under the strain but refused to pull back. You continued to suckle and lick at her buds, drawing out her orgasm the best you could. Your name was thrown in the mix with a magnificent whine you rarely got to hear.

Gawtin’s chest heaved with breaths as she gathered herself. You drew yourself onto your knees and placed the heavy cock on her mound. Deep down, you were excited to see this thing spilt her open, better than your fingers ever could.

When the dazed look started to fade from her eyes, you rubbed your hand over her stomach then dragged your nails down. They might be dull but she arched her back to press against them harder.

“There’s my wonderful mate. How was that?” you teased your very dominate mate. She growled that ended into a purr and exposed her throat to you. “Are you okay to continue? We-“

One of her hands lashed out and grabbed your throat. A soft yet firm grasp to keep you from pulling away. Gawtin pushed up to rest on her hand instead of her elbow to lean closer to your face. “If you do not put that thing into me now…” she trailed off, leaving open the threat. You couldn’t help but snort, knowing where she was coming from. All the times she’s teased you before coming to mind.

“If you let go of my neck, I can see what I’m doing.” There was just a hint of a snark in your words. One that Gawtin let slip past for the moment. She let go at your words. A smile was giving to her. You gazed down and lined up the pointed head of the yellow dildo at her entrance.

The fire in her eyes could rival the sun’s heat itself. Her desire heavy and thick in the air. You timidly pushed the head past her folds, watching as she consumed it. Gawtin’s cunt starting to stretch to accommodate the toy. Fuck, this was a sight you never knew you needed to see.

Each inch pushed deeper into her, you met no resistance, even when you hilted inside of her. A tiny part of you wished to feel what it would be like to have her wrapped around a real cock. “You look so beautiful stretched around my cock, Gawtin. You don’t understand what this does to me,” you admitted, raptured by the sight before you. You never thought this day would ever come.

She was back on her elbows and kept that sense of dominate aura around her. A soft look passed over her features. “Oh, I do know what you mean, little one. Every time I use my fin-ah,” she gasped when you pulled out and thrusted fully back in. “You sneaky little brat.” Her voice hardened. You smirked.

“You were saying?” With this tiny lick of dominance, you were acting like you had the whole universe in the palm of your hand. Her hand flicked out and wrapped around your throat all over again. Your thrusting stopped, eyes widening at the show of dominance over you. Again, she’s in charge.

Gawtin pulls you closer to her face. “When I stretch you with my fingers alone, you are a squirming, pleading mess underneath me,” she finished what she was originally going to say. You shuttered, your empty pussy clenching around nothing. “So, you better fuck me good, little one.” Her wish is your command. You rapidly nodded your head to get her to release your throat.

Thankfully, she did. Your hands grasp at her hips and pull back your own. A mix of her arousal and your saliva coating the toy. You shoved the entire length back into her, watching as it disappeared. You groaned lowly in the back of your throat and started up a pace. One of your thumbs moved to run tight circles around her top clit, still wet from your mouth earlier. Her walls tightened around the dildo.

“Paya’s grace, you know what you are doing,” she moaned and watched as you fucked her, eyes glued to the yellow toy moving in and out of her. “Tilt… tilt your hips down, little one.” Every little sound and word she made you soaked in. Instantly, you listened to her and angled your hips down to drive the head towards the ground.

Her abs flexed when you hit something your fingers could never reach. “That is it. Right-right there.” In the heat of moment, you accidentally sped up your thrusts, the praise making you lightheaded. “Slow. Slow down.” You whined an apology and returned to your former speed.

An array of sounds echoed back at you in the privacy of her room. The slapping of skin on skin; her keens; your pants. You bite your bottom lip to keep some of your control in check. Your finger continuously rubbing at her sensitive nerve endings.

Sweat pooled on your forehead. Though you felt your energy depleting, you were driven by determination to get her come. You wanted to leave a good impression on her so she’ll let you do this more often. You bowed down, keeps still angled down to rub against the sweet spot inside of her. “Shit, Gawtin. You don’t understand… how much I love you,” you rambled and gave her the sweetest eyes you could pull.

In her orbs, you saw something shift. But you had no time to prepare for when the scenery changed. You gasped after finding yourself on your back and staring up at Gawtin. The giant straddled your hips easily and positioned herself over the toy. Her body slammed down and engulfed the dildo back inside of her. She moaned, head bowed and began to ride the strap on still attached to your hips. Gawtin easily trapped both of your hands in hers and pinned them to bed. Her entire frame leaned over you as she took her pleasure from you.

“Gawtin?!” you shrieked afterwards, unable to move but not in any pain. She was taking what she wants from you. She dismissed your squeak, not stopping.

Gawtin leaned down and practically shoved her tongue past your lips. Her muscle dominated yours without much of effort. You were too stunned to fight back. You moaned though, back arched off of the bed. Her free hand found its back to your exposed chest and tweaked a nipple. Gawtin pulled back and stared deeply into your eyes.

“Ah, shit!” you squeaked and keened under her touch. “This is supposed t-to be about you!” With her riding you, it still was mainly focused on her pleasure, but you wanted to be strictly zeroed in on her.

All she did was growl, the fire in her eyes bright. Your bottom lip caught between dull teeth as you attempted to reel in your noises. You didn’t dare drown out what little sounds she made. Gawtin pulled harshly on your perked nipple with a huff. A knowing look passed over her features. You kept any other words to yourself if it wasn’t praise.

Fangs dug into the skin of your throat, on the verge of spilling blood. You pulled on your hands but the Yautja refused to let go.

The teeth moved to your shoulder, holding on tight. “Good girl, Gawtin,” you cooed and tried to thrust up to meet her hips. Yet, each time she slammed down practically bounced your body back up into hers. “You gonna come? Come all over my cock inside of you?”

A pitiful whine pierced the air. Her hips slammed once more with yours before stilling. All of her muscles flexed and twitched. Pain radiating from your shoulder, her teeth lodged into your skin. Another mark to add to the pile. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

Hands cupped your chin. Gawtin released her hold on you and looked at you. A smile broke across your face. “How was that, pretty girl?” you asked the goddess in a soft tone. Her face relaxed after making sure you were okay. Gawtin began to purr and rested her forehead to yours. “I think you liked that more than me.” At least you hoped so.

One of her hands left your face to touch at the bite mark on your shoulder. You couldn’t help but hiss at the pain. It wasn’t bad but definitely noticeable. “I would apologize but it will scar nicely,” she stated.

You couldn’t help the snort that left you. “I think everyone in the village knows I belong to you. Possibly the planet,” you teased her. Marking you is a favorite thing of hers. Anything to get you marked and smelling like her was her favorite. None of the males ever come up to you, especially when Gawtin is around. Expect those two times… those two males really learned a hard lesson.

Gawtin huffed before leaning up to stand on her knees. The dildo slips out of her and flops onto your stomach, covered in her essence. Before you had a chance to even think about cleaning anything, you were lifted up and off the bed. You yelped and scrambled to latch onto Gawtin. “What did I say about warning me?” She didn’t response and began to walk towards the bathroom. “Hey, I’m supposed to be one taking care of you.”

“It is my duty to care for you, little mate,” she stated. You groaned and leaned back in her hold, trusting her to keep you safe. “Complain all you want but I love caring for you.” You softened at her words and looked at her beautiful eyes.

“You’re such a big softy,” you jestered then leaned up, arms hooked around her neck to hoist you up. “You’re my big softy.” Then, you kissed her top two mandibles each. Blood still stained her inner fangs.

A purr started in her chest. The Yautja starts to run a bath for both of your sake and sets you down. You were able to strip yourself of the toy and tossed it into the sink for cleaning later. “You never answered my question,” you brought up after the tub was filled with hot water.

She perked a brow at you. “I rode you like… like a horse into the sunset,” she responded with a smirk on her alien face. You pressed your lips together and looked away. “And you figure out your speed quickly. It was perfect. You are perfect, my little ooman.” Heat rose to your cheeks as you looked away from her shyly.

Warm water engulfed you. Gawtin sat you in her lap and wrapped her arms around. “You’ll let me go that, right?” you pleaded with a pouty look on your features. “Since I did so good.”

One of her hands stroked down your back, sending tingles along your skin. “Yes, you did earn the chance to do it in the future.”

Dominate as she is, she’ll let you have your moments of false control. You were swift to eat up each second she allotted to you.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #smut #Yautja smut #alien smut

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 9 months

Text

This Is The Way It Always Goes.

Synopsis - Santiago always comes crawling back. You convince yourself this is the last time - but you both know that's not true.

Pairing - ExBoyfriend!Santiago Garcia x Female Reader

Word Count - 2.6k

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut. kinda toxic relationship dynamic. cursing. angst. this one gets a little rough.

Author's Note - I was in a mood when I wrote this. it's not often I write angst like this, but when I do, I aim to break some hearts. not sure why I chose Santiago for this one... it just felt right. I know this isn't a part of any of my series, but this idea came to me and I managed to bang it out in an hour. series fics coming soon - promise!! <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

This is the way it always goes.

You know it's him as soon as you hear the knocking.

He always knocks as if he's trying to break the door down. Maybe he is. He's broken down everything else in your life.

This is the way it always goes.

You tell yourself you're not answering. You're going to sit here and listen to him bang on the door. Then you'll listen as he yells, begs, tries to sweet talk you through the heavy oak, words seeping through the wood like raindrops. You're not answering.

But then he uses that tone, the honeyed, dulcet, low and raspy one. The one that shoots straight to your heart. His voice cracks, and so does your resolve.

You slowly wander towards the front door, sitting down against it with a thud. He hears it. He knows you're there. He knew you'd come around.

"Baby," he whispers.

You hear him loud and clear.

"Don't call me that. I'm not your baby, Santiago."

You're trying to sound authoritative but you just sound broken. Lost. Helpless.

"You are," he pleads. "Don't say that. You are my baby. You're always going to be my baby."

"No, I'm not," you plead back.

This is the way it always goes.

"You're the love of my goddamn life, honey. When are you going to realise that?"

"I'm not," you counter. "I'm not. I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not I'm not."

There are warm, salty tears dripping down your cheeks. You didn't even realise you were crying until you felt the water hit your lap. He always makes you cry.

Your lover shouldn't make you cry.

"Just let me in. Let me see you. Please."

It's always the pleading please that gets you. Santiago isn't exactly a polite man. He gets what he wants and he takes what he needs and he usually doesn't care who gets hurt in the process.

"No, Santiago. No. You do this every time. Nothing ever changes. You never change."

"I'm trying, baby. I promise you I am. It's hard, it's really fucking hard, but I'm trying. For you. I'm trying for you."

You don't believe a word he says. You don't. But he sounds so... genuine. He's the king of false promises, Santiago Garcia. Maybe, just maybe, this time it won't be false. One of these days he'll actually follow through. Maybe.

"I can't do this, Santiago. I can't. You break me more every time."

Soon, there'll be nothing left for him to break.

"Don't say that. Baby, don't say that."

You hear his head hit your door with a thud, resting there. You turn to press your forehead into the wood, the two of you so close but still so far apart.

"You hurt me, Santiago. And every time I think I'm okay, you show up again. It isn't fair."

It isn't fair. But this is the way it always goes.

"I never wanted to hurt you, hermosa. I never meant to. I love you."

It's always those three little words that crack the very foundations of your heart, splintering it into a million tiny pieces.

It's always those three little words that make you relent.

You sigh deeply, and reach up above your head to undo the deadbolt. The noise startles Santiago from where he's sat with his head against the cold wood. He rises to his feet and takes a step back, careful and considered.

You take a deep breath and unlock the door. You don't open it. You can't bring yourself to.

Santiago does. He turns the handle gently and pulls it towards him, stood still in his place. He doesn't come in. He wants to hear you say it first.

You finally look at him, and you regret it instantly.

He looks good. So good. His hair has grown out longer than the last time you saw him, light stubble dusting his face. He's got more grays coming in, salt and pepper scattered amongst the darkness. The sun has kissed his skin on all of his missions abroad, making him glow. He looks delectable.

"Cariño," he breathes. "Fuck. You're so beautiful. Even more beautiful than I remember."

A tear drips down your cheek, soaking into the material of your shirt. He sounds so sincere. He is so sincere. You know he thinks the world of you. It's so painful.

This is the way it always goes.

He takes a step towards you, and you suddenly find you can't move. The rational part of your brain is telling you to get back, to put as much distance between you as possible. But you don't. You stay exactly where you are, allowing him to invade your space.

Santiago leans forward and rests his forehead on yours, large, calloused hands cradling your face tenderly.

"I missed you," he breathes, and you can taste the mint on his tongue. He's chewed this one type of gum since you've known him. He always tastes the same.

"You're gonna leave again," you whisper. "You come here, you fuck me up, and then you leave. I'm not doing it again, Santiago. I can't."

"I'm sorry, hermosa. So fucking sorry. You know I never meant to hurt you. You know that."

"Then why won't you leave me alone?" you cry. "I try to move on every fucking time, Santi. And then you crawl back into my life and I let you! I let you! I always say it's gonna be the last time, and it never is. How do you think that makes me feel, huh? I feel like a fool, Santi. A fucking fool!"

Silence.

"Santi," he repeats slowly.

You look at him incredulously, and then scoff in disbelief.

"What?"

"You called me Santi, not Santiago. Like the old days."

You didn't even realise you'd done it. It just feels so easy, to fall back into old habits. It's programmed into you, a part of your DNA now. He's your Santi and you're his baby and you'll break each others hearts a million times and keep on going.

This is the way it always goes.

He reaches back and shuts the door behind him. He's staying. For now. You look at him with teary eyes, bottom lip trembling.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," you jab shakily.

"Is that what I am to you, hermosa? An old habit?"

You inhale sharply.

"You're a hell of a lot of fucking things to me, Santi."

You want to step back. You want to push him away and throw him out the door. You want to hit him, scratch at him, punch him in his stupid, gorgeous face. But you don't. Instead, you step forward - straight into his outstretched arms.

You press yourself into him, tucking yourself into his broad chest. He wraps his arms around you as tightly as he possibly can, terrified that you'll disappear any second. You both exhale the past, and inhale the present.

"If you hurt me again, I'll kill you," you threaten, muffled by the cotton of his t shirt.

"I'd let you," he whispers into your hair. "I'd die a happy man if I was to die at your hands."

He always does this. Knows exactly what to say. Promises he won't leave. Then, inevitably, he gets a call, asking him to fly out to Colombia, Kenya, Alaska. And he goes. Without a second thought for you, he goes.

You've lost count of how many times it has happened. You're getting a horrible feeling of déjà vu. But you just can't bring yourself to break free from this hold he has on you. Not when he's rocking you gently, murmuring how you're his whole world, how he has nothing if he doesn't have you, how this time he'll be different.

You're not sure if you believe him. But you're sick of arguing with yourself and you're sick of pulling teeth. He'll break your heart again. Maybe you're immune to it now. There's only one way to find out.

"Make me forget," you whisper. "Make me forget all the shitty things you've done to me. Make me forget my own fucking name, Santi. Please."

He pulls back to look at you, to see if you mean it. You do. You're tired of fighting this. Of fighting the inevitable.

Santiago lunges forward and smashes his lips to yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He groans when he realises you taste the same. You chew that gum just for him.

He hooks his foot around your ankle and yanks, sending you flying backwards. Santi's got his arms firmly around your back, cushioning your fall. As soon as you hit the floor, he's on you. His lips are pressing into your neck, down your jaw, nipping at your ears. His hands are groping at you roughly - your hips, your tits, your ass. Anything he can grab, he does.

Santiago stops momentarily to look at you intently. He dips his head down and licks up your cheek before kissing your eyelids tenderly. You taste like salty tears and years of regret.

You tangle your fingers into his hair and pull as hard as you can, hoping to hurt him. He groans in pain, and a sick sense of satisfaction settles in your stomach. You want to hurt him. You want to hurt him like he hurts you.

You lean up and sink your teeth into the expanse of his neck, tasting the musky masculinity of him. He groans again, and you feel lightheaded, drunk off the sound.

"Fuck you," you murmur against his lips in between kisses. "Fuck you, Santiago Garcia."

"I love you," he whispers back against your mouth. "I'll love you forever."

You don't know whether you love him or hate him or neither or both and it's making you crazy. You knee him in the ribs and he folds forward, his weight dropping onto you. You want to feel every inch of him against you, every dip and curve and rough edge he has to offer.

You're ripping his shirt over his head before you can think twice. He's managed to pull your pants down your legs, throwing them behind him. He tugs at your shirt, gets frustrated, and rips it down the middle.

"Fucking asshole," you spit, sinking your nails into his forearms hard enough to draw blood.

"You don't care," he drawls. "You love me and you don't care."

You grab at his belt, making sure it hits him in his side as you pull it through its loops. When he hisses in pain, you hit him with it again, this time on the ass.

"You wanna hurt me, hermosa, is that it?"

"Fuck you," you grit through your teeth, trying not to cry. "I want to do more than hurt you, Santi. I'd kill you if I could."

He kisses your neck so tenderly in response that you shake with rage. You keep trying to tell yourself that you don't want him, that you're better than this. It's no use. No one else in the world can make you feel the way Santiago can. You're cursed.

He's slipping your underwear down your legs and two fingers into the wet heat between your thighs before you can even think a coherent thought. You whine in response, canting your hips for more.

"You can lie to me all you want, honey. You can fight this all you need to," he murmurs, crooking his fingers. "But your body is giving you away. It always gives you away."

"I said make me forget, not remind me even more," you hiss.

He presses his thumb to your clit in response, the action making your legs go weak. You stop fighting him. Eventually, you always do. You surrender to Santiago, and go boneless on the floor.

"There we go," he coos. "You always give in, baby. That's how I know you love me."

You shake your head, tears welling on your waterline, saturating your eyelashes and making it hard to see.

"You do, baby. You do. I wouldn't be here if you didn't."

He speeds up his fingers, and it feels so good you see stars. Santiago leans down to kiss the spot underneath your ear, the one that makes you melt.

"Tell me the truth, my sweet girl. Please," he rasps against your skin. "Tell me you love me. Don't lie to me."

You're trying to clamp your mouth shut to stop the words escaping. They're on the tip of your tongue, begging to slip free. To make the pain go away.

"Please," he begs. "Please, baby."

He hooks his fingers just right, and your vision goes white. You're thrown into your climax with no warning.

"I love you," you gasp as you come. "I love you, Santi. Fuck."

You come down from your high, chest heaving, sweat dripping down your skin. You look up at Santi, and watch as the tears fall down his cheeks.

"I knew you did," he chokes out. "I knew I wasn't crazy. Fuck, I love you so much. I'll never let you go again."

He smashes his lips to yours, both of your cheeks wet with emotion, slipping against each other.

"I still hate you," you spit into his mouth.

"I know," he soothes back, running his tongue over your teeth. "I know."

This is the way it always goes.

Santi lines himself up between your legs, sliding home with a gasp. This is where he belongs. Home.

You throw your arms around his neck, trying to plaster yourself to his front. He rocks his hips steadily, sending you both sliding across the floor.

This is the way it always goes.

The two of you never make it past the hallway. Whenever Santiago comes back to you, it always ends with the two of you tangled together on the floor, limbs intertwined and bodies connected. You once tried to move the two of you to the couch, but Santi fucked you so hard you slid off the cushions anyway.

Much like he's doing now.

He snaps his pelvis into yours, the force of it making you keen. You're gasping into each others mouths, hands grappling at whatever you can find. His grip on your hips is so tight, you know you'll be black and blue tomorrow.

"Tell me you're mine," Santiago rasps into your mouth. "Please, baby. Please. Tell me you're mine."

You're so close you can taste it. As much as you don't want to admit it, the key to your release is those two words. You need to let go in more ways than one. You need to let go of the pain, the resentment, the regret, the false hope. You need to let go of everything, and surrender to the truth.

"I'm yours," you sob, tears running down your cheeks. "I'm yours, Santi. I always have been."

"You're mine," he confirms, pressing kisses all over your face. "And I'm yours, baby. I'm yours forever."

That's all you needed.

The two of you fall over the edge together, chests heaving and hips stuttering. You reach up to tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling him down to your mouth. You're gasping against his lips as he chants sweet nothings against yours, the two of you panting and writhing.

Santiago collapses against you, his body acting as a weighted blanket. You wrap your arms around him, tracing absent minded patterns across his sweat slick skin. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck, pressing occasional kisses wherever he can reach.

"I meant what I said," you murmur into his hair. "If you hurt me again, I'll kill you. I know at least three people that'd help me cover it up."

"Are those people Benny, Frankie and Will?"

"No comment."

He chuckles lowly, moving to press his forehead against yours.

"And I meant what I said. I'm yours. I'm yours forever."

This is the way it always goes.

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hotwings0203 · 2 years

Text

Bully Bakugo w a soulmate be likeee ehehehe

Tw:noncon, bullying, stalking

It would’ve been easier if he had outright tormented you. If it had been you who was the victim of the surrounding bullying, the not-so-quiet snarls of insults that came hurling at your female friends, the physical altercations that his goons would exchange between the guys in your class that you’d laugh with, but no.

No, he wasn’t that merciful. He wanted you to know that inside the targeted circle of your friends and family lied a very isolated you.

He was picking off these people one by one to get closer to you, akin to the way he was picking off each layer of skin that protected you from his grasp.

He never spoke a word to you because he never had to. When you’d be walking with your friends behind the school, he was always there with his own posse, gravitating towards your group and quietly observing as his looming henchmen would pick at your friends’ skirts, push their books out of their shaking hands, call them horrible names.

You knew he was behind it, because above the defensive fear your friends showed, and amidst the cruel laughter his men boomed out, Bakugo would always be behind the shadows of his cronies, head tilted, eyes narrowing up and down your figure, a mocking sympathetic smile that never seemed to cease as tears would fill your eyes.

When disgusting rumors came out about your family being involved with numerous scandals, you hadn’t the heart nerve to stand up in front of the room and confidently deny the false claims. Your peers knew they weren’t true, but they saw your head down and knew to simply leave you be. Their silence was enough support for you.

What they didn’t see however, was a sight only for you across the class.

While your fists curled in your skirt and your mouth trembled at hearing all the lies read from the articles about your extended cousins and siblings, you could feel his stone-cold, yet triumphant gaze on you. He’d always make sure to be seated somewhere he could assess your body language and turn the knife in your heart further. Your classmates didn’t see it, because he saved the show of palming his bulge at the sight of you breaking only for you. He made sure when you dared to lift your gaze a minuscule amount to confirm your worst suspicion, his hips would lift crudely and thighs would flex threateningly at a promise of your future with him.

You stayed mute, knowing that the day you acknowledged him, he’d win.

Once you’d beg him to stop the lies, the fear, the target on your back, the pain, he’d have you under his thumb, right where he wants you.

So you opted to grin sheepishly and bear it for a little while longer, your surrounding circle too scared to call you or him out on this perverted cat-and-mouse game that they were so unfortunate to be casualties in.

But although he seemed amused at your avoidance of him, the antics only got worse from then on.

He began to grow bolder at your bowed head, and started to approach you more closely. Not enough to warrant an actual reason for you to pin the blame on him, but enough to make you jumpier and more frazzled than usual.

Bakugo began sitting even closer to you now in class, going so far as to sitting directly behind you. You’d feel it, the breath on your neck, the hot fingertips trailing down your skirt, his feet sliding under your desk to push your own shoes apart and in turn, pushing your thighs open.

And when you told your friends to stop walking you home for their sake, you didn’t miss the foreboding shadow of a familiar figure trailing behind you all the way down the block.

Protecting, and threatening.

Promises that warranted a restraining order in your inbox, pictures in your messages that made you sick to your stomach, random facts about the daily habits of close people on your lives, all the solidify the fact that he knows enough to take you down if you fuck with him any longer.

You thought your submission is what he wants, but Bakugo’s version of submission isn’t avoidance.

It’s you, in his bed, tied up with galaxy-colored splotches decorating your body like a painting. It’s your mouth, open and tongue rolling out, various tones of pain and pleasure whining out for him, covered in his white love. It’s your tits, your ass, your sweet, sweet fucking cunt perspiring wanton lust for him, your body bouncing up and down his dick like a trampoline, face down, ass up, holes open and stretched to accommodate whatever the fuck he puts inside of you.

Taking what he gives you from the front, the back, bent over on the sofa, pressed against the shower door, lifted up against the walls, your blood and cum mixing together as you shake without his supporting hold on you.

Needing him, as he needs you.

And one day, his premonition comes true.

It’s sick, truly, how you did nothing but hold your tongue and yet the world laughs at your patience.

Your friends are matched with their soulmates, excited hushed squeals erupting the classroom as the loudspeaker blares the pairing over the intercom as procedure makes it so. Blushed smiles from across the room are met with whooping, joyous laughter from the rest of the room, and one by one, everyone around you has met their lifelong partner.

And as the pool narrows down to you, him, and a select few others, the smile reserved for the celebration of your friends’ futures starts dimming when realizing what could be in your own.

It’s not possible, your girlfriends say, seeming to be inspecting the marks on their shoes and cuticles on their hands for much longer than they can look at you. There’s absolutely no way, don’t even think about it. He’ll get matched with someone from another school, another city, another country, and then you’ll never have to see him again.

But distance is a funny thing, and time works in accordance as a few weeks later, a name is called with yours-a name that sends goosebumps down your spine, that chills your heart and crushes your hope.

A name that, you thought would come to pass, but instead has thrusted itself into your life forever more.

It seems like the clock has stopped, and that there is only you two in the room when you finally meet each others’ gazes for once.

His, a disgusting mix of wonder, smugness, frenzied craze, and…

Something too soft for you to want to put a name to.

The room is in a state of pin-drop silence.

There is no whooping, no playful jeers, no clapping, or teasing. Even his goons seem shocked that the universe has made this bantered game of predator and prey into something much more deadlier, more cruel and permanent.

Bakugo Katsuki is etched on your ribs, below your heart.

You swallow hard, and tilt your head down, continuing the lesson your professor stutters to finish, yet never blinking.

You don’t want him to see the everlasting tears fall from your eyes.

And he’s not stupid either.

He stays there in the building, right in his seat even after the lecture has ended and you’ve bolted out of your chair to go back home.

Remains rooted as he watches from the window his friends ignoring yours for once, his authority not there to egg them on with you not in the lucite.

He doesn’t need to move, time will go on with only you in his life from now on.

The sun goes down right in front of him, and it reminds him of you, starting off bright and darkening as the moon comes out to take its place.

It feels like the hours haven’t moved though from the way he stays in the same position as he was when your conjoined names were called. His neck grows stiff as he becomes lost in thought, unmoving as his body begins to heat up.

Bakugo can’t tell if it’s because of your name being seared into his inflammable skin, or because his burning desire for you has grown exponentially within a few hours.

And why should it, when he need not crave for you any longer? After all, just as the sun and the moon move in accordance with each other, both your lives will not proceed without each other’s in complement.

He’ll take you so as he pleases, as his god-given birthright on you has been proven before his very own eyes, has been spoken aloud and written across his veins for others to witness.

So he sets out to find you, where he knows you’ll be when he finally hears the entrance doors creak open at night.

He bets you think you’re so smart for coming here so late, so cunning and sly as you thought you were when you ignored his presence.

But his existence is a reminder of his dominance over you. To be better, stronger, and smarter than you is the reason he’s alive in accordance to you.

He listens, and waits, as he’s always done.

You’re so predictable, it’s cute if not pitiful. Your steps can be heard loud and clear from downstairs across the school building, echoing through the halls and pinpointing exactly where you are.

And you, poor little you must’ve thought he’d see you in the morning, huh? That he went home along his merry way, skipping over the cracks in the sidewalk as he terrorized someone else for a change? You thought he’d let you celebrate your last day of independence by yourself before he plagued your life tenfold the next day?

If that’s the case, it’s time to show you how being alone and naive can be so dangerous for a weak little girl like yourself.

That’s why when he creeps downstairs extra cautious of his footsteps, you’re comfortable nosing around the headmaster’s office, being as disruptive and frantic as you can. What you’re looking for, he has no idea, but with your back turned to him at the threshold of the door he can see it clearly after a couple minutes of you scavenging around.

It’s some kind of paperwork to file a claim of changing your soulmate, something he didn’t even know existed. The big, bold letters at the head of the paper omit a sigh of relief from you, but before you can pocket the crumpled paper, he speaks low and gravelly into the silence.

“That’s not very nice.”

You shriek and whip around, clutching your heart and looking white as a ghost at the intruder’s voice…only to turn have your knees buckle and heart drop to your ass at the sight of who greets you.

He’s standing there, crossing his arms across his chest and looking almost-bored if not for the dark glimmer in his eyes. It doesn’t help your situation that his drake fills up the space in the doorway and effectively blocks off your exit. Your eyes dart around the room, looking for another way out before he speaks again, keeping his voice barely contained with palpable rage bubbling beneath his skin. You’re still ignoring him, even as your doom lies before your very eyes.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” He juts his chin out like an ape and cocks his head at the pink paper pressed against your chest.

“N-nothing. What the hell are you doing here anyways?” You try to keep your voice from wavering, but it backfired tremendously, cracking in turn to add insult to injury.

It makes you wince, and he lets the silence between the two of you simmer in the room for a solid minute just to increase your uneasiness.

He sighs and pushes himself off the doorway before striding towards you leisurely, the casual hands stuffed in his pockets doing nothing to hide the fists of rage curled beneath the fabric and making you bleat with fear as you notice the same thing.

The blond backs you up against the bookshelf and continues snarling quietly, “I’ll let that tone slide since I haven’t taught you the proper way to address me yet, but for future reference, when I ask you something, answer me and respond with sir, master, or daddy. I’ll let you pick since I’m so nice.”

As he reaches out for the paper in your hands you turn on instinct and bolt sideways the second he nears you.

It’s a pathetic struggle, one that doesn’t even last for 2 min tired before he’s pressed up against your back, his palms against yours and splaying your fingers out to where the paper is in clear sight.

He’s hyper aware of your body so close to his, and he cursed his heart for pounding faster when you squeak and squirm against his hold.

To quell his own nerves, he snarls into your ear and makes you cringe as he reads aloud the words on the paper. “Hasnt even been a full 24 hours and you wanna leave me already? I’m hurt sweetheart, you didn’t even give me a chance yet.”

He hopes the bitterness in his heart doesn’t bleed truth into his words, hopes the biting jeer slipping from his tongue covers the insecurity at you being so close and literally in his grasp, yet so far from where he wants you to be.

The shadows coming from the grand windows of the room seem to tighten their hold and looming figure above you, like he inhabits the darkness itself.

“I-I don’t wan-wanna be y-your soulmate,” you sob out with shaky words. It’s unnecessary to say, if he’s being honest, because the trembling of your body against his boner gives your feelings away anyways.

But nonetheless, he bites into it and grazes his teeth along your neck while continuing to spit venom.

“Didnt realize I got ownership of a bratty little pet. Don’t worry, I’ll curb that attitude soon enough. After all,” he croons as one large hand relinquishes it’s hold on your feeble wrists and slides the bottom of your shirt up. The cold air against his hot touch makes you gasp slightly and causes the stiffness of his cock against your ass to be even harder at the noise. His thumb caresses the underside of your tit as he traces his name over your heart.

“The proof is right here. I can do anything I want with you. And no paper, no person, is gonna stop me from getting what I want.”

If he’s being honest, he didn’t want it to be this way. He wanted to take you in the comfort of a clean bedroom, roses or some girly shit you would’ve liked laid out on the bed. Maybe it would’ve made you giggle at how cheesy it was, and maybe he would’ve responded with a grumbled complaint at his effort, one that would make him turn away and egg you on to coddle him.

His aching heart sinks as your sobs grow in volume, and he hates himself as his dick jumps with your voice. He wants to cut the organ out and fling it by your feet, ask you to put him out of his misery as he begins to conquer what he knows will never truly be his.

Kill me, he whispers to you and himself under his breath as he slams your back on the mahogany desk.

Be mine, he pleads in his mind as he begins rutting into your pink panties.

His mind begins to break as his erection grows tighter and stronger inside of you, thrusting deep inside of you and forcing your body to react in ways you never want it to.

“Yeah? You like that? You like having your bully, oh, sorry, soulmates dick inside you? You fucked up bitch, you thought you could escape me for that long, hah?”

“P-please, please be gentle, f-first time-!” Your voice bounces along with your body as he sits you upright on his bare lap and begins slamming your hips down his cock.

He caresses your nipples, then slaps them as if to slap himself out of his trance. Your body beckons him forward, but he knows it’s all a lie, it’s fabricated, another cruel jest of the universe to tease him into his instincts and not his mind.

Your clit is rubbed mercilessly, cock plunging in and out of you at an inhuman pace as you try to gasp for air. He’s like an animal, pounding inside you and biting everything in his like of vision.

The blond spikes on his head tickle your chin as he puts his body weight on you and prevents you from squirming. Razor sharp teeth trace over your silhouette and sink in the plushiest parts of you, allowing his drool of lust to cool on your skin and make you shiver involuntarily. His hips never stop humping into you like a dog with its toy, and after he’s done making a chew-toy of your body, he leans above you and grasps your chin to look at him. Your face is slippery from all the fluids emitted from this ordeal, but nevertheless he makes it a point to sink his nails into your cheeks when he feels your skin slipping away from him.

“I tried being nice,” he tries growling, but his voice betrays him and catches in his throat at the sight of your tears shining silver in the moonlight. “I wanted it to be special, wanted you to be good for me so I can love you the same.”

It’s a lie, but he’s glad you can’t hear it over the schlicking sounds of his brutal fucking and your wails combined. It’s a lie because, he knows he’ll always love you the same-the same fucked up way that he can’t express except in physical actions that turn more aggressive the more his love surmounts and spirals out of his control.

Love me, he exhales out loud, on top of you on the floor after taking you in every part of the room.

And he hates himself for knowing that you needn’t answer; you don’t have a choice anyways.

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