Septiplier NSFW Smuts

Overwhelmed (Rape Play)

Jack runs his fingertips reverently through frail stitches and worn fabric. There's something almost ritualistic in choosing his outfit for a scene. They've been planning this one for about two weeks, and Jack's been enjoying every step.

Mark is just coming out of some highly stressful days and honestly, Jack saw this coming from a mile away. Mark has been so on edge lately, stretched taut enough to snap and trying his best not to. Jack wants all that nervous energy focused on him, and yes, he knows it may sound a bit selfish, but these little sessions they do cater to the both of them. Can you really blame a guy for wanting to pamper his stressed out boyfriend? Sure, their pampering is a bit unusual, but in the end Mark revels in having full control of the situation and Jack gets his release from being overwhelmed and claimed. They fit together surprisingly well.

He likes these long, thought-out ones the best. They've been throwing around vague outlines: little things they may want to try, things they rather not do, what worked in previous scenes, what didn't. He leaves most of the details up to Mark: a good part of Jack's enjoyment on their scenes comes from not knowing for sure how things are gonna go down, so his dom checks in with him to get his consent with the things he'd like to do, but Jack has no clue what combination exactly Mark is going to pick out for their scene. Jack knows just enough to feel delightfully helpless during the scene.

Jack picks up a different pair of jeans from the thrift store's discount shelf. These ones look a little too long on the legs, but the ripped up details and threadbare denim should make Mark's job much easier. For now he picks out the outfit they will ruin: the one thing he never lets Mark control. Jack can almost feel the brush of Mark's knuckles on the skin of his thighs... he will use the holes as a starting point and tug harshly until the whole thing rips under his hands, almost jostling Jack out of the bed with the force of his actions. Jack licks his lips and heads towards the cashier, already planning out the strategic cuts and undoing of stitches he'll do once he gets home to make Mark's job a bit easier.

Jack is standing by the side of the bed when Mark enters the room as quietly as he can. The plan is to catch Jack by surprise; that way he can jumpstart Jack's adrenaline and make the struggle a lot more fun for the both of them.

Mark takes a second to admire the discipline in his sub: Jack is obviously aware of Mark's presence in the room, he'd noticed how Jack's breathing sped up as soon as he entered the room. It's like Jack is attuned to his dom's existence. Even so, Jack remains still, just standing by the bed. He doesn't fidget, he doesn't turn around, and he doesn't try to glance back: A perfectly disciplined sub waiting patiently for whatever his master feels like subjecting him to.

That sight makes warmth blossom in Mark's chest. Pride, possessiveness, and a sense of power resonate within him with enough strength to almost knock a groan out past his lips. Mark presses the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth in an effort to stop the sound and reminds himself of his goal: surprising Jack. He can't make a single sound to alert his intentions; he needs to be the silent predator waiting to pounce. Besides, Jack is not ready to be pounced just yet; he needs to earn it first.

Mark waits. Patiently.

It takes a while for Jack to break but as always, it is worth it. Mark notices it immediately.

Jack's patient stillness is shattered by a twitch in his left hand. Jack opens and closes his fist slowly. The long hems of his beat up jeans whisper against the carpet where he fidgets shifting his weight from foot to foot. If Mark pays close enough attention he can hear Jack's long intakes of breath.

Almost ready now.

A couple more minutes roll past and Jack's anxiety breaks as well. It's a minimal thing, but it is beautiful. Acceptance covers his form like a cape: his shoulders dropping visibly, his head tilting gently forwards, the tension seemingly vanishing. Jack is like a puppet whose strings were cut. With a sigh Jack's breathing finally regulates itself.