#So try to bait them into responding :)
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tracle0 · 4 months ago
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Snippet Sunday VI
May I offer you some antagonist ramblings on this windy Welsh morning?
Carefully, it knelt before Sky, one hand on their cheek, one on their shoulder. The statue didn’t move, the mouth still open in a scream, inhuman teeth jagged and sharp, bolts of lightning edging out of the gums. Like the last time it was before a statue, the Blight gave itself a moment to inspect its millennia old handiwork. 
Then, finally satisfied, it spoke. “Your siblings are dead,” it whispered. “Earth and Sea are both gone. Are you afraid?”
Sky did not answer, because they were long dead. 
“I’ll spare you,” the Blight pressed on softly. “I’ll break you free of this stone skin and let you dance across your skies if you tell me one little thing. Are you listening?”
Not even a flicker of divinity, no desperate attempt at a response.
“Tell me how Mind sealed me away,” it instructed. “And you can be free. That’s all. So little for so much. Tell me.”
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shikai-the-storyteller · 2 years ago
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For the love of god why can't people just be normal about things
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therevengeoffrankenstein · 1 year ago
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maybe i'll overcome my debilitating fear of grass one of these days.
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favefandomimagines · 3 months ago
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loml (r.c)
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SEASON 4 PART 2 SPOILERS!!!!
Request: @motherlanaenthusiast “So what if we do a Rafe x Maybank!reader where like maybe she was in morocco but she wasn’t with JJ when he died cuz she was doing smthn else so like they all have to break the news and that happens and then when like after when they’re back at Kildare Rafe like gets deja vu from s1&2 him because he sees reader going kinda crazy”
Summary: Rafe is the only person to save Y/N from a downward spiral.
AN: I will NEVER forgive the writers for this lol I went on a tangent with this one
The sun was blistering and casting a golden hue over the winding alleyways in Morocco. Rafe Cameron and Y/N Maybank moved through the maze of alleyways, their steps quick and purposeful, yet filled with a tension that spoke of something much deeper than their immediate surroundings.
Y/N was JJ Maybank’s twin sister, a spitfire with a wild heart who had once been the center of Rafe’s secret world. The two had shared a tumultuous fling, a secret affair that had started four years ago under the cover of darkness and ended just as abruptly. It was a relationship neither had ever fully acknowledged. Rafe was a Kook, while Y/N, like her brother JJ, was a Pogue, tale as old as time.
The shop was quiet, the group off to Charleston to follow the next clue. Y/N stayed behind to wait for her brother after he had wandered off “running errands.” The bell above the door jingled, and the soft sound broke through the silence.
Y/N was leaning against the counter, staring at her phone screen, scrolling through all the unread text messages to her brother.
"How can I help you?" she asked absently, not looking up from her phone.
She looked up and her breath got caught in her throat, the smile on Rafe Cameron's face grating against the air. He stood at the entrance, hands tucked casually in his pockets, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, keeping her tone even, though the familiar tension in her chest began to build. She’d never been able to shake the feeling of unease around him. Not since everything went down with Pope, the fight that ended whatever it was they had.
"Can't I just stop by and visit my local surf and bait shop?" Rafe said, taking a step inside, his eyes glinting mischievously.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You looking for Sarah?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, yeah. I'm looking for Sarah."
She shook her head, setting the phone down with a soft click. "She doesn’t want to talk to you."
Rafe raised an eyebrow, the smirk still in place. "I think I can have a chat with my sister whenever I want."
"Not if she doesn't want to talk to you." Her words were firm, but there was a slight quiver in her voice that betrayed her more complicated feelings.
Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter as he took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between them. He placed his elbows on the counter, leaning in closer, the sudden proximity catching her off guard.
"I'm sorry about the drama at the beach the other day," he said, his voice lowering in an almost sincere tone. "With Ruthie and the turtles."
She didn’t respond right away, trying to keep her emotions in check. She could feel the weight of his words, but it didn’t change anything. Rafe was sorry—sorry for the mess he had created, maybe, but never for the things that had truly mattered.
"Don’t act like you care, Rafe," she replied, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "You only care about how things affect you. And I guess now Sofia."
He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze growing intense. The years of tension between them seemed to hang in the air, unresolved and unspoken. Then he said, his tone soft but firm, "We used to be so close, Y/N. What happened?"
She sucked in a breath, trying to push down the anger, the hurt, the past. "The drugs happened," she said slowly, her voice low. "Ward happened. Your anger happened."
His eyes darkened for a second, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it just as quickly. After a long, weighted silence, he took a half step back, his expression softening, just a little.
"I’m on your side, you know," he said quietly, the words almost a whisper, as though they were too important to rush. "I always have been."
The words hung between them, charged and heavy with meaning. She didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t known what to say to Rafe since the day he’d walked away, leaving everything torn apart in his wake.
Before she could respond, Rafe straightened, brushing his hand across his forehead as if clearing his thoughts. He turned toward the door, his back to her now. "I’ll be seeing you around," he muttered over his shoulder, the door swinging open as he left without another word.
Now, as they weaved through the ancient Moroccan city, they were older, scarred by the years of treasure hunts, betrayals, and broken friendships.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” Y/N said, stopping suddenly, her dark eyes scanning the shadowed alleyways. She had always been the one with the sixth sense, the one who could feel trouble like a storm on the horizon.
Rafe turned to her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
But before she could answer, they heard Kiara’s voice, shrill and desperate, cutting through the noise of the bustling market.
“Y/N! John B! Pope!”
Y/N’s heart seized in her chest, and without another word, she took off in the direction of Kiara's cries, Rafe hot on her heels. They rounded a corner and found Kiara kneeling on the cobblestones, her face pale and streaked with tears. And lying there, motionless, was JJ.
“No, no, no,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking as she fell to her knees beside her brother. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch JJ’s face, his skin already growing cold under her fingertips.
“JJ, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t leave me. You promised.” She cried.
But there was no response, no flicker of life in those familiar blue eyes. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under her, like the ground had opened up to swallow her whole. Rafe stood behind her, his face pale, his fists clenched at his sides.
The group stood stunned, no one wanting to be the one to move. But they were in a busy, bustling city with a dead body. People would ask questions. “W-We have to get him out of here.” John B stammered. He moved to reach for Y/N, attempting to pry her off of her brother’s body.
Y/N fought against him, muttering things like ‘I’m not leaving him’ or ‘he can’t be alone.’ Rafe takes over for John B and has to use his strength to pull her up to her feet. He held her in his arms, close to his chest to avoid having to see her two best friends moving her brother.
At that moment, all he could really do was hold her.
||
Months had passed since that horrible day in Morocco, but for Y/N, time had ceased to exist. She was back in Kildare, but it was as if she was still stuck in that dark alleyway, kneeling beside her brother’s lifeless body.
Sarah Cameron was heavily pregnant, as she prepared for the birth of her first child with John B. It was supposed to be a time of joy and new beginnings, but the shadow of JJ’s death loomed over them all.
Y/N had fallen into a downward spiral, her grief consuming her. She drank herself into oblivion every night, stumbling through the streets of Kildare like a ghost. She would disappear for days, only to be found passed out on the beach or in the hammock outside her house. The Pogues tried to help her, but she pushed them all away, lost in her own pain.
Sarah had told Rafe about Y/N, how she was drowning in guilt for not being there when JJ had died. The words had hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, reminding him of his own spiral years ago, before his father had dragged him into the hunt for the Royal Merchant’s gold.
He couldn’t let that happen to Y/N. He wouldn’t. He loved her even if he couldn’t admit it.
So he found himself standing on the porch of the Maybank house, staring at the peeling paint on the front door. John B’s van was parked out front, and Rafe assumed he was there trying to talk some sense into Y/N.
A part of him thought ‘oh John B is here, I can come back later.’ But he couldn’t walk away, not this time.He’s walked away from her too many times.
He knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the early afternoon. John B opened the door, his face drawn and tired. “Sarah’s not here.” He told Rafe. “I’m not here for Sarah. I’m here for Y/N.” Rafe answered.
“She’s not doing well, man,” John B said, his voice low. “We don’t know what else to do. I think... I think she feels guilty for not being with JJ when it happened.”
Rafe nodded, his jaw tightening. “Let me talk to her.”
John B hesitated but finally stepped aside, letting Rafe through. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had always surrounded JJ.
Rafe walked down the hall to Y/N’s bedroom, the same room he used to sneak into all those years ago. All of the memories came flooding back as he stopped in front of the door. Nights that ended tangled up in her sheets. Other nights where she just wanted to be held after a fight with her dad.
Rafe pushed the door open to find her cocooned under the comforter, a bottle of vodka sitting on her nightstand.
“JB, please go away,” she mumbled, her voice raw and hoarse. Rafe assumed from a mixture of alcohol and crying.
“Not John B,” Rafe said softly.
Y/N stiffened, slowly emerging from under the covers, moving to sit up against her headboard. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale and gaunt. She looked like a shadow of the girl he once knew.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“I’m worried about you,” Rafe said, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress.
“Apparently everyone is,” she muttered, her eyes flicking away from him.
There was a heavy silence, the kind that was filled with all the things they had left unsaid for so many years. Rafe took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.
“Y/N... I know what it’s like to lose yourself,” he began, his voice steady. “I know what it’s like to drown. I was there once, you know that. Hell, I’m still trying to crawl my way out.”
She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “He was always afraid to be alone, and I left him alone,” she choked out. “I should have been there. I should have protected him.”
Rafe’s heart broke at the raw pain in her voice. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Y/N. JJ wouldn’t want that.”
“How would you know?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You never cared about him. About me.”
The words were like a slap in the face, but Rafe took it, knowing she was lashing out from a place of deep hurt. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t care about JJ, and I pushed everyone away. But I always cared about you. And I don’t want to lose you to this, Y/N. I can’t.”
“I’m not your responsibility, Rafe.” Y/N muttered. “No but you’re the person I love.” Rafe replied. “You can’t say things like that.” She practically snapped. “Why not? You used to beg me to tell you how I felt and I finally am. I’m sorry it came so late and it’s happening because of this but I’ll be damned if another person I love gets hurt because I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Rafe told her.
She stared at him, the anger draining from her eyes, leaving only exhaustion. “I don’t know how to come back from this,” she whispered.
“Let me help you,” Rafe said, his voice breaking. “Please. Let me be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”
There was a long pause, and then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. It was a small gesture, but it was enough.
“I’ll try,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll try to get better.”
“And I’ll be here,” Rafe promised, reaching out to take her hand. “Through it all. I’m not going anywhere.”
||
A year had passed since that day in Morocco. The sun was shining over the Outer Banks, the salty breeze carrying the sound of laughter and the distant crash of waves. The Pogues had gathered for a special occasion, a day of celebration and new beginnings.
Sarah and John B’s son, Jackson, was turning one today, and they were throwing a beach party in his honor. Y/N stood on the edge of the gathering, watching as Sarah bounced her son on her hip, his tiny hands reaching for the birthday cake.
Y/N was sober, clear-eyed, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again. She had fought her way out of the darkness with Rafe by her side, and though the pain of losing her brother would never fully fade, she was learning to live with it.
Rafe approached her, a soft smile on his lips. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.
She nodded, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I think I am.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “For everything.”
She leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering shadows. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on me.”
Rafe smiled down at her before she moved up on her toes and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, Rafe.” She spoke quietly. “I love you too.” He replied.
They stood there together, watching as their friends celebrated a new chapter of their lives, a chapter filled with hope and healing.
For the first time in a long time, Y/N believed that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.
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rafescvntyclubgf · 4 months ago
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“𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌” - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 + 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭
+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘
𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝙹𝙹 𝚡 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚘!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
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𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐂𝐍𝐂, 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐒𝐞𝐱, 𝐄𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤
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10K
𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓴 𝓯𝓲𝓿𝓮
⚠️ warnings contain spoilers ⚠️
situationship, kissing, swearing, graphic violence, mentions of blood, gore, bullying, teasing, mutual intoxication during a sex act, ownership kink, pet names, drug usage, drinking, blood, knife play, choking, oral male receiving, threesome m/m/f, rough sex, talking about the reader like she's not there, blood licking, finger sucking, hand kink, mask kink, stalking, gaslighting, physical violence, the reader wants them both, dark Rafe, dark reader, dark JJ, unprotected sex with multiple people, dvp, rough sex, oral female receiving, using objects during sex, cum tasting, squirting, creampie, anal play, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, size kink, ignoring a safe word, breath play, hair pulling, bondage, impact play, degradation, dirty talk, praise, pussy slapping
Reader’s POV:
“Okay, so, what is an antagonist?” The boy leans back in his seat, crossing his big arms over his broad chest, his white t-shirt strained. He stares you down, hoping you’ll crack and give him the answer. “M’not telling you, Rafe,” you correct him before he can even ask with a light laugh and a smile that has him returning the same.
“C’mon, pretty. Got no clue what’s goin’ on. I learn better this way,” he croons.
“You learn better by me telling you the answer?” You ask weakly, to which he shrugs and smiles. “This one. I’ll tell you this one. You’re making me think I’m doing a bad job, Cameron,” you add in exhaustion as you spin the cap off your water bottle, staring back at him tiredly.
“A bad job?” He asks in disbelief, eyebrows tugging together as a little scowl pulls on his pretty lips. “M’just givin’ you shit.”
“You’re not-“
”The character who opposes the main character in a work of literature,” he recalls the flashcard word-for-word, making your jaw slack in delight and irritation. His tongue pokes through his smile as he looks back at you playfully. “Best tutor I’ve ever had, princess.”
You feel your cheeks warm up; you take a quick sip of water to guise your smile. You were trying to do your best to stay focused on your session, but he just made it so hard. Rafe Cameron was a distraction, and he knew it, too. It’s hard to ignore his lingering gaze; how he leaned in a little too close when asking a question. His rich cologne muddled your thoughts. Rafe’s raspy, deep voice makes it almost impossible to get your words out confidently.
He’s so damn charming, and you know better than to encourage him, but sometimes the temptation is too strong. You clear your throat, pinching your eyes shut, cutting off his deep, dark stare cold turkey. He chuckles airly, clearly aware of his effects on you, though you’d never admit it.
“Thank you,” you respond with a smile as you straighten out the deck of neon flashcards. “Alright, next we have protagonist.” Rafe tries to bait you again with a look that has your mind spinning. “Enough,” you scold annoyedly.
He lifts his hands in surrender as he leans closer, resting his big forearms on the table. His gold chain falls out of his shirt, glinting in the library light. Your eyes follow the slight space between his cotton v-neck and burly chest. “Ya know, y/n. JJ is a lucky-”
“Am I interrupting somethin’?” JJ chirps, with a teasing edge in his ask, stopping Rafe before he can finish. The blonde leans down, wrapping his large arm around you, pressing a rough kiss against your cheek, earning a giggle and smile. Rafe rolls his eyes at the exchange between you, making JJ laugh teasingly. “Envy does not look good on you, brother.”
Rafe lifts his eyebrows, huffing out a laugh. “Bullshit, buddy. I look good in everything,” Rafe gloats. “All’s I was gonna say is how lucky you are.”
JJ gives him a taunting smile as he crashes down in the seat next to you, wrapping his arm around the back of your chair, looking back at his frat brother with a challenging gaze. “Right. You can keep remindin’ her, Rafe. I’m no Casanova, but keepin’ my name on your lips when you’re talkin’ to my girl isn’t going to get you anywhere,” JJ mocks. “Thought you had game?” Rafe balls up his notebook paper, tossing it at JJ hard and fast, nailing him in the forehead.
“I do,” Rafe answers confidently as his cerulean stare shifts from JJ’s to yours. Your stomach falls at Rafe’s words, slight guilt trickling in as he speaks nothing but the truth. JJ scoffs and laughs, kicking his boots on the seat beside Rafe.
”Yo, where’s Alexis?” JJ asks. You glance around the library, looking for her. I mean, she’s chronically late, but she would always send me a text or something.
”I don’t know,” you breathe as you lean over, snagging your phone off the table.
Alexis: Volleyball practice went late. Sorry.
Your ears perk up as you hear an announcement break over the intercom, catching everyone’s attention. “Attention students, faculty, and library staff. All classes have been canceled for the remainder of the day. Please stay calm and follow the campus safety procedures by filtering out of the nearest exit.”
You look out onto the crowded library, watching students look around, sharing hushed conversations about what’s happening that would cancel school altogether. You glance outside onto the dark campus parking lot, cop cars gathered by the masses, red and blue gleaming lights flickering in the night.
The backdoors of the ambulance swing open as a group of first responders race toward the vehicle with a covered gurney; an unmistakable shape underneath. You walk closer to the glass, squinting your eyes, trying to get a better look. Blood pools on the sheet, spreading like a wash of watercolor paint at the victim's stomach. The interior lights of the ambulance hit the sufferers face, all the blood leaving your own as you see Alexis.
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You sit on the couch, drawing your coffee up to your lips, feeling the cup tremble in your hand. You swallow the bitter liquid fast, trying to ease your pounding head. It was a long night… The two of you up, following the story as it unfolded on TV, seeing that beautiful, friendly face plastered across the screen.
You were too wrapped up in thought to sleep; too consumed with the picture that would be forever etched in your mind as you watched her get hauled away only to die on the ambulance ride there. Alexis didn’t stand a chance: strangled, blunt force trauma, stabbed thirteen times, left to bleed out in the bathroom ‘til a teammate found her.
JJ sits next to you, your eyes glued on the TV as they show the suspected killer for the nth time. You always expect to see some blurry-faced man, maybe a deranged teen, but what you didn’t expect when an image of the suspect first dropped was a familiar white mask.
The news anchor’s voice drones on about another brutal killing in the night at a movie theater downtown, leaving the entire city on edge. “Yet another Ghostface killing,” she adds to her colleague, going on to talk about the same twisted methods he used to kill, all of which you remember from watching the movies. You had a visualization of the crime scene without an actual pictures— mental polaroids snapped with each new detail. You glance at JJ, who’s oddly unbothered, letting the new story play on like he’s listening to some mundane podcast.
The house is bustling: boys walking in and out of the messy estate, spent beer cans, and littered pizza boxes left over from the night before. None of them look fazed, everything seemingly unchanged like there weren’t people being murdered around town, with a crazed, masked killer on the loose.
Chills run down your spine as you watch the CCTV footage of a large figure in a cloak and a mask exiting the bathroom after killing Alexis before fading into blackness. It looked like a movie. One that you've watched on this very screen. Whoever this killer is, he’s real. He’s out there. JJ grabs the remote control, letting out an irked whine as the story continues, pointing it at the TV. “JJ!” You chide through a sharp whisper.
He looks over at you, cocking an eyebrow. “We already watched this, sunshine. Same shit on the hour,” he grumbles. “Nothin’ new, baby. Let’s watch The Office or somethin’.” He turns the channel, snuggling his big body into you more.
You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. Shit… The knot in your stomach tightens. You take a sip of coffee, trying to act normal, but nothing is ordinary. What if something happened? You dig in your pocket, pulling out your phone, catching a message from Rafe.
Rafe: No tutor session today please. It’s Halloween. God damn. Can you cut me some slack for one fucking day princess?
You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. He’s so annoying. You didn’t have anything scheduled with him anyway; JJ’s frat brother, just looking for a reason to drop you a line. JJ looks over your shoulder, reading the message before picking the phone off your hands. “Goddamn, baby. You got this man pussy whipped, and he hasn’t even gotten his dick wet,” he knocks as his lips meet your neck, kissing and biting at your skin. JJ reaches over your shoulder double-tapping the message, giving it a like. You shake your head and smile as you see Rafe instantly replying.
Rafe: Maybank stop bein a bitch
JJ: It’s y/n
Rafe: bullshit. Send me a pic, then?
JJ lifts his shirt, snapping a picture of his toned chest. He chuckles wickedly as he hits send.
Rafe: no. your girl’s got better tits than that
JJ scrunches his nose in disgust, looking down at the message like he’s trying to translate it. “Your girl’s got better tits. Fuckin’ asshole,” he mutters as he passes the phone back to you. You chuckle lightly, trying to slow your movements, but you’re desperate to see if there are any news updates. Your palms sweat, mind nagging with thought as you grow physically impatient. What’s wrong with me? These are real people dying, but even still, there’s this wavering excitement I can’t shake. It’s fuckin’ sick. I'm fuckin’ sick. And I know it.
A grainy clip plays on your phone screen as you browse the local news app— the crime scene from last night. You take another sip of coffee, following the chain of events, catching the irony: a Scream marathon playing at the AMC theater, the stabbing happening during Scream Two. The killer probably waited until the midnight showing of the Stab scene to take out the poor girl in real-time. Two slayed: the boyfriend in the bathroom and the girlfriend in the theater. You read the article carefully, taking in the differences of location: life taken in the back of the theater versus the front… She probably went out silently versus screaming out in terror. I mean, the person next to her didn’t even know she was dead until the end credits rolled.
“Baby girl…” JJ hums as he looks over, catching you looking a little too distracted. You hide your phone slightly, looking up into his beautiful blue eyes.
“Mhmm…” He stares down at you, giving you a knowing glance. His eyebrow arches, reading you like a book. “What’s up?” You ask as you drop your focus, looking down at your coffee like it’s the most interesting thing you've ever seen before taking another sip. His gaze hasn’t left you; you can still feel it burning into the side of your head.
“Baby…” He tries again.
You look up at him, hoping he’ll drop it, knowing he won’t. “Hmm…”
JJ quirks his pretty pink lips, leaning back into the couch a little to get a better look at your guilty face. “Really?” He mocks, his voice low and laced with amusement. “You gettin’ off on this or what?”
”What?” You gasp.
“What?” He echoes your soft tone impishly, with just enough sting to remind you of the reality you're skirting around. “You know what.”
You roll your eyes, feeling the heat of shame creep up your neck, pooling in your cheeks. “Stop.”
”Stop what?” He asks with a toothy grin, totally relishing in razzing you.
“It’s so bad, Jay…” You admit sheepishly as you tip your head back, relaxing it on the back of the couch. “Ya know?” You return your eyes to him, the man meeting your focus with a sideways glance.
“People are out there dyin’,” he ridicules you. The corners of his lips fight back a taunting smile, a slight glimmer in his eye, finding pleasure in humiliating you; he knows you’re not heartless. “This ain’t like those podcasts you watch, baby. And I know you like a good slasher fic, but come on…”
“Can you stop,” you whisper, feeling bad enough about it already.
“M’sorry, mama. Just givin’ you shit,” he grins. “You’re so pretty when you pout.” JJ leans in, pressing on your bottom lip, dragging it down slightly before leaning in for a gentle kiss. “I’ll stop.”
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You fiddle with your pen, trying to focus as your professor continues, but your mind is miles away. You peek around the large lecture hall, looking at the gathering of students sizing up each. It might be someone from campus… Someone in this room right now. Someone I might know.
Stop.
There are thousands of people in this town and on this campus alone. The likelihood that I’ll know him directly is slim to none. Or her? I should be paying attention. I have a test in two days.
BUZZ.
Your phone vibrates in your book bag, making you jump, your nerves clearly on edge.
JJ: What do you want from Cash Wise?
Shit. You look up from the glow of your phone, spinning yourself up further. There’s supposed to be a party later tonight— a Halloween party at the frat. It’s still on, or JJ wouldn’t ask what I want from the liquor store. Right? Maybe we’ll have a chill night in. Who am I kidding… Those boys don’t give a flying fuck about the curfew, and neither does anyone else.
In a few short hours, liquor would be pounded, loud music would be flooding street after street downtown, parties raging, and people would forget all about what was lurking outside—what horrors walk amongst them.
If this is genuinely a copycat killer, there’s no way he’s skipping Halloween night… Maybe I should stay back at my apartment. Fake sick and watch the news. It’s not like I’m going to stop a serial killer…
But what if it’s someone I know? What if it is one of the guys I see daily at the frat house? JJ and I are casual. As much as I like him, there’s no way he’ll miss out on a Halloween party for me, if I’m being brutally honest. Sure, he might roll by the house at 3 AM, blackout drunk to cozy up in my bed, but he’s not stayin’ in and watchin’ the local news… What if something happens to him?
I’m just spiraling… Maybe there is no pattern. Maybe the killer is done. Some psycho with a vendetta against Alexis and the two other students at the theater. The three could be connected… I don’t know. It doesn’t fucking matter. There’s no way he’s done. I can lie to myself all I’d like. Tonight, people are gonna die, it's just a matter of how many.
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There was no getting anything past JJ. He knew you weren't feeling sick. He knew you didn’t want to stay back for any other reason than to stand by and wait for the next story to drop. There was no way the boys were gonna let you skip either; they were gonna get you here one way or another.
If you didn't know better, you’d have no clue a masked man was terrorizing your city. Not here anyway… The energy in the room is infectious; laughter, music, and weed smoke fill the air. It’s just a fraction of the frat’s usual guest. Soon, this party’ll be wall-to-wall. JJ smiles at you, casually draping his muscular arm over your shoulders. A small, smug smile plays on his pink lips as he looks at his frat brother across the way. JJ’s ringed hand dips between your thighs, mouth pulled to your neck like a magnet, flaunting you in front of Rafe. “Fuckin’ shameless about it. Isn’t he?” JJ mumbles against the heat of your neck as he pokes fun at Rafe. He steals glances at you between his conversations with Kelce and Top, as he always does, his eyes lingering a little long taking in every inch of bare skin he's never seen before, studying the detail of your little Britney Spears costume.
Rafe finally makes his way over, sitting on your opposite side, making your heart beat faster. His pretty blue eyes twinkle as you match his gaze, the burly brunette giving you a panty-dropping smile. “I was a little worried there for a minute when you said you weren’t comin’,” he mumbles, recalling the texts from earlier as his eyes fall to your lips, watching a bashful smile form on yours. “I’m glad you could make it, princess.”
JJ chuckles, tightening his arm around you. “Don’t flatter yourself, man. She came for me,” he scoffs playfully.
”You look beautiful, y/n,” Rafe praises ignoring the blonde. JJ lifts his hand from your shoulder, thumping Rafe in the head.
“You’re testin’ me, Cameron. Stop tryin’ to steal my girl.”
Rafe smirks, leaning closer to you with a mischievous smile. “Can’t blame me for tryin’.” His eyes lift, matching yours; lips mere inches away. You can feel the warmth of Rafe’s breathing against your lips giving you the butterflies.
JJ reaches over, resting three plastic shot glasses on the coffee table before running them each so full of vodka that they spill over. “Oh, fuck,” he chuckles, already buzzing. He lifts the bottle to his lips, taking a swig. The clear liquid dribbles down his chin, landing on his orange shirt. His baby blue eyes match yours, giving you a playful wink. You feel your heart race a little faster as your eyes fall on his body: his costume hugging his athletic frame just right. His beachy, blonde locks are perfectly undone, his neck littered with fake tattoos.
Rafe’s hand rests on your thigh, just like JJ did, testing the waters, seeing how far he can get too, squeezing your bare leg. He moves a little closer, catching your eyes lingering a little too long on JJ, craving some of that attention for himself. His hand drifts a little lower, playing with the hem of your thigh-high stockings. You look back at Rafe: his beige locks brushed back off his face, just a little messy, letting his fridge fall casually on his forehead with a sailor’s hat sitting on the top. He snags his shot off the countertop, kicking his Noble loafers on the coffee table. He smirks as he reclines beside you, his velvet smoking jacket unintentionally pulling wider on his exposed chest. You look away fast, trying to hide your surprise as Rafe’s black satin pajama pants leave nothing to the imagination, letting you see the silhouette of what he’s hiding underneath.
“Fuck!” Rafe recoils as JJ flicks his fingers, snapping him right on the dick, making Rafe hiss out a pained breath.
“Stop bein’ such a slut, Cameron. Jesus fuck,” JJ snickers, nabbing Rafe shot off his hands as well, drowning it fast before Rafe can protest; the man still trying his best to catch his breath. You roll your eyes and shake your head, moving your shot glass over for Rafe before pouring another for yourself.
Rafe reaches over the back of you, punching JJ in the arm, making him grunt in pain, too. “Bitch,” Rafe clips.
“What are you supposed to be anyway?”
“Hugh Hefner, dumb fuck. N’aren’t you supposed to dress up? Seems like somethin’ you just pulled out of your closet.” Rafe plucks at the shoulder of JJ’s inmate costume. “That come with the Maybank starter pack or what?”
“Fuck you-”
“Fuck you.”
“Can we just drink?” You ask through a laugh, plucking both of their glasses off the table before passing them off and grabbing your own.
"You know, Cameron. It’s a dangerous game flirtin’ with someone else's girl,” JJ slurs as he lifts his glass slightly for a toast.
“Dangerous. Huh?” Rafe chuckles, lifting his glass as well. “What are you going to do about it, Maybank? Huh? Kill me?”
JJ smiles, rolling around Rafe’s words in his crooked mind, letting his question hang in the air momentarily. “Cheers.”
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JJ smiles at you from across the room, and at that moment, everything disappears. The music, the thick crowd, the bumping of the bass pouring from the speakers all fades away. His lust-dazed eyes are locked on your body, studying how you move from across the room. Your hands shift as you dance with your friends, teasing him with the hem of your pleated skirt, your body feeling absolutely electric under his gaze.
You spin, pigtails turning with you, cinched at the bottom with baby pink puffs. You're not sure how many shots you've swallowed at this point… A few mixed drinks and a colorful pink pill from Rafe's pocket later, and your buzzed head is heavy, floating somewhere between tipsy and completely gone. You shut your eyes, moving your hips to the beat in your chest, feeling your body shifting slower than before. The room turns as you glance at your friend, laughing dizzily, too gone to care.
Fuck. Your heart skips a beat, then races away as you see a flash of white in the corner of your eye. You fumble slightly over your heels, clutching your friend for support as you catch a tall figure in a Ghostface mask. Wet liquid splashes up from the foundation, wetting your ankles and feet as you drop your drink.
You slam your eyes shut, trying to calm down, feeling yourself sobering up fast. This is the longest I’ve gone without thinking about any of this. It could just be a costume… Of course, it could be. It’s Halloween… That’s been a popular movie since the 90’s. “Can you hear me?” Your friend screams over the noise, catching your attention, jarring you back to reality. “I said ‘are you alright’?”
“Mhmm…” You nod and smile as you start to move again.
You look around a little more, feeling your paranoia mount by the moment. Why that mask? Here? In this city after everything happened? It’s probably just some frat boy thinking it would be funny to dress up as the killer. Or, he could have already had the costume. It could have been a coincidence that he hadn't thought twice about since, too desensitized to even see the problem…
How could someone be so careless? I mean, we all are. Aren’t we? All of us were out when the university told us to stay in. All of us were wasted when the police said that going out tonight would be a bad fuckin’ idea. But what if they aren’t being careless? What if the person under that mask is the reason why three people are dead?
The hair on the back of your neck stands straight, the music of the party seems to grow a little louder—too fucking loud, making it impossible to think straight. You survey the room again, trying to convince yourself it’s just some asshole, wordlessly praying you’ll catch a college kid with his mask pulled back, sucking face with some sorority sweetheart.
Your pulse spikes as you lock eyes with him again, the Ghostfaced figure even closer than before. He’s standing there, perfectly still, unlike the people moving around him, making him seem even more out of place. He’s just staring… Lifeless. You yelp as you fall, this time missing your friends completely, as you're shoved to the floor. You stand up fast, head swiveling, watching as a tall figure pushes through the dense crowd.
Your look down at your hands caked in dirt and sticky with spilled liquor. Your unease settles in the pit of your stomach like a weight. There’s two? You look forward, catching your footing again, feeling your heart jump as the original figure from across the room’s gone. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as your thoughts get the better of you. “Fuck!” You gasp as you feel a hand wrap around your arm, pulling you back fast. You spin around, heart hammering in your chest, half expecting to see the masked man before you. “Jay,” you snivel.
“Hey, you okay?” He asks as he steps a little closer, seeing the concern in your eyes.
“Uh - Uh, yeah. I’m fine,” you assure as you look over your shoulder, watching one of JJ’s frat brothers pull a girl in for a kiss as she holds his Ghostface mask up for him. Breathe… The scene you painted to offer you some semblance of relief plays out before you. Relief washes over you like a wave. Holy shit.
“Baby?” JJ tries again as he grips your shoulders tightly, trying to ground you. Your heart pounds in your ears, competing with the deep bass radiating through the packed frat house.
“Yeah, J. I’m fine.” You force a smile. “I thought—“ You start to speak, but the words get caught in the lump still lingering in your throat. “I need to use the bathroom. I fell… My hands are covered in shit.”
“I’ll be right here. All right?”
You weave through the crowd, knees and ankles wobbling from your wicked cocktail of drunkenness and fear. You clench your fists, trying to steady yourself in the moment, kicking yourself for letting your guard down like you did. Wishing you could rewrite the night to have your wits about you as planned.
As you reach the staircase, you tug your phone out of your pocket, checking the time. It’s past 2 AM already. If you were right, and the Ghostface killer was going to take advantage of the night, he would have struck by now. You climb the stairs fast, heart pounding, lungs burning; senses amplified in the moment. You claw onto the wooden railing for support, finding yourself completely unsteady in your sky-high heels, looking down at each step to avoid missing one.
BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.
You rummage for your phone again, pulling out the device only to see an unknown number. You slide your sticky finger across the screen, accepting the call as you sink to sit down on the stairs, gripping onto the handrail for backing.
“Hello?” You ask shakily.
“Hello, y/n…” Your eyes double in horror, as a familiar voice fills your ears. Ghostface.
“Who… Who is this?”
“Oh, come on. You don’t recognize me? You don't know this voice? Bet you've gotten off to it. Why are you being so shy?” He taunts you in that smug tone you've heard a million times over.
“This isn’t funny. Alright?”
“Funny? You think I’m jokin’? I’m closer than you think. Matter of fact. I can see you right now, y/n.” You suck in a quick breath, holding it in as you look around fast, quickly calling his bluff.
“Bullshit.”
“I’ve been watching you all night. Little skirt, heels, pigtails…” his voice menaces on, fading into the crowd behind him, that same song you hear echoing in the playback of the phone. He’s here.
“Leave me alone.”
“Oh, I’m not goin’ anywhere, y/n. You're playin’ the role you've always wanted!”
“I’m not scared of you.”
“BULLSHIT,” he spits with a wicked laugh. “You better lock that bathroom door. I’d hate for someone to come in and GUT YOU LIKE A FISH! Will you hurry the fuck up?” His last line comes out in a familiar tone, pulling out the rug from underneath you.
“JJ WHAT THE HELL?” You hiss, listening as he thanks his frat brother for letting him use his voice changer.
“Relax, Jesus.”
“That wasn’t funny!” You shout as you pull yourself to your feet again.
“C’mon, sugar. It was hilarious. M’just havin’ a little fun. Aight? Calm down. When you’re done freakin’ out, get your pretty ass back downstairs and party with me,” he lays on the fratccent heavy, irritating you further.
“M’mad at you,” you mumble as you scale the rest of the stairs.
“It’s Halloween, everyone's entitled to one good scare.”
“Shit!” Your breath catches in your throat as you slam straight into someone’s chest. You stumble back slightly, eyes wide as you teeter on the top of the stairs. Rafe’s large arms wrap around your waist, catching you before you can fall back.
“Hey. Hey, princess. Fuck. You alright?” He asks breathlessly. You nod quickly as he pulls you closer, leading you to a safer spot, his beautiful eyes gentle with concern.
“I - I…” You stammer. “M’just a little jumpy,” your words ramble together, shaky and weak. “I’m fine.” He looks down at you, cocking his eyebrow, not believing a word of it. You feel embarrassment creep in as you notice he’s with someone else, too.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he respires, smiling as he nods, giving you the benefit of the doubt. “Have a great night.” Rafe wraps his arm around the stunning brunette's waist, guiding her down the stairs, leaving you alone at the top. You shove JJ’s door open, walking into the dark room, closing it softly behind you. Everything calms down; all of the sounds around you are truly quiet, the low roar of the party only bleeds through the bottom of the door, playing like white noise in the background.
You walk over to JJ’s nightstand, snatching the remote, flicking on the TV before walking to the foot of his bed, turning to the local news. The station casts shadows across the dark room and walls. There’s nothing new to report but reruns of the earlier findings… The reporters go on, focusing more on the lives of the victims versus the profile of the killer; the investigation seemingly at a standstill. The harsh reality quickly crushes the relief that you felt. If your gut feeling is correct, this isn’t over… It just hasn’t happened yet.
You roll onto your stomach, sinking into JJ’s bed, pulling out your phone, checking the rest of your sources. The music from the party outside becomes a little more noticeable, leaving you lifting your phone, pressing the speaker against your ear to hear the officers on the other end of the scanner. You snag JJ’s earbuds off his bedside table, pushing them in your ears, hearing the sound a little clearer.
Nothing… Nothing out of the norm as the two officers bitch about breaking up some college function uptown. All of this makes the situation more unnerving… The calm before the storm. A sudden jolt of terror surges through you as you’re yanked back to the edge of the bed, screaming in horror, quickly forced to your back, frozen in fear as you look up at two Ghostfaced figures looming above you. A scream bursts through your lips out of instinct, your body fighting its way back to the headboard. But it’s no use. A large hand comes to your throat, squeezing you tight, pinning you to the mattress, cutting off your airflow.
“Please, just-” You sputter and plead through trembling lips, reaching for a breath. They stand there ominously as you struggle, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You glance toward the door, trying to shriek, but nothing comes out but a hoarse cry. One of them leans closer, his knife glinting in the low lighting. No. No. No. He lifts the blade, holding it to your neck. Your eyes pinch shut in fear, knowing if you move, you’ll get cut by the edge.
“Heard you’re into this shit, y/n? Is that true?” A mechanical voice comes out through the mask, dripping with mockery. You suck in a breath as you feel the cold blade of another knife slide across your hot skin between your button-up and skirt. Your body tenses up as the blade works higher and higher up your body, clicking along the metal hooks and eyes of your lingerie.
“Stop!” You plead as tears well in your eyes. “Please, leave me alone.” One of them chuckles deeply, the timbre of his voice making you sick with fear. “What do you want?” The second Ghostface leans down, making you hold your breath as you wait for your answer.
“We wanna make you scream.”
Your stomach churns, twisting at their words. He leans closer, the chilled plastic mask brushing against your skin. The familiar cologne has your eyes doubling in horror. “JJ?” His name flees your lips before you can even stop it. Your mind starts to race as you try to rationalize the situation. Is it him? Is JJ the killer? Or is it all part of some twisted game?
“Surprise,” he hisses distortedly, coming out like nails on a chalkboard.
“JJ, please! This isn’t funny!” You cry out, still unsure if this is reality or fantasy. “JJ STOP!” You sob, choking on your tears, and your chest heaves, emotion spilling down your cheeks onto the mattress below. “JJ don't kill me. Please. P-Please.”
“Baby… Baby… Hey. Calm down. Okay,” he breaks character, making you gasp for a breath.
“What the fuck!” You sob.
He leans down, wrapping his big body in yours. “Shh-Shh… M’sorry. Okay. I thought you’d like it, y/n. Took it a little too far. All right? I’m sorry,” he whispers before pulling his mask back, letting you see his handsome, guilty face. Your bottom lip trembles as you look back up at him, scared shitless, your adrenaline and heart surging like you just took a bump. Your body, riding a vicious high. “I'm mean. I'm so fucking mean. That wasn’t right. Forgive me?” He asks through a breathy laugh as he peppers kisses along your tear-soaked cheek. You smack your hands against his chest in frustration, pushing him away but he crushes you under the weight of his big body, looking down at you with a smile that you could never stay mad at. “C’mon, princess…”
“Fine.”
“Atta girl,” he mumbles as he buries himself in your neck, giving you a big hug.
“What were you thinking?” You sniffle.
“What was I thinkin’? My girl’s a fuckin’ freak… Why not give her what I know she wants? You should be thankin’ me.”
“Thanking you? You scared the hell outta me,” you huff.
“That, pretty girl, was the plan. Now, will you let us have a little fun with you, mama? Or, are you gonna keep poutin’?” You look up at JJ, the fear that was gripping you moments before fading away into something different. Your heart’s still racing—fear exchanged for pure, unadulterated desire. JJ lowers the knife, tracing it up your thigh slowly. He takes the flat end, making you draw breath as he slides the cold blade against your soaked panties, pulling it up to check the mess. You see a hint of your arousal glistening on the blade already. “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.” He tuts, twirling it between his fingers. “Fuck you’re a slut... Tongue,” he orders. You submit to him as you lay out your tongue, looking up at him through your lashes. JJ sets the smooth side of the blade against your tongue, sliding it slowly, letting you taste yourself. Your pussy throbs, surprising yourself with how much you desire this blend of fear and passion.
You focus on the other Ghostface in the room, haunting above. His sheer size— that undeniable swagger even with a cloak and mask on. “Rafe?” He nods.
“You think I was going to turn down this? You know how much fun it is to scare you, baby?” He asks in a wicked tone that has your thighs drawing together with want. “Think we all know how bad I want you…” The big frat boy confesses behind the mask still drawn over his handsome face.
“You okay with Rafe bein’ here too,” JJ asks, his dark, deep voice vibrating against the shell of your ear.
“Mhmm…” You hum as you lean into him a little more.
“Words, baby.”
“Yes, Jay,” you respond as you grab JJ’s mask off the crown of his blonde mess of hair, kissing him on the lips before pulling it down over his face and making him laugh.
“You gonna let me fuck you, princess?” Rafe asks, and you swear you can hear the smirk on his lips. He tears off the black cape, stripping off his cigar jacket. You study Rafe’s flawless body, his muscular chest, and chiseled abs. A Ghostface mask, black satin pants, and some white Calvin Klein’s boxers are all that remains.
“Well…” You answer hesitantly, wanting to say ‘yes,’ but you and JJ honestly hadn’t talked about it before; you only talked about being casual. Why else would Rafe be here if it wasn't alright with JJ?
“Wouldn’t be a scream fantasy if there weren’t two dicks, now would it?” JJ answers Rafe on your behalf, knowing you were hoping that’s what he would do, as he strips off his cape, too. He snaps open his inmate uniform, popping each of the buttons open nice and slow, exposing more and more skin, leaving you throbbing.
“Guess you’re right,” you whisper in a mesmerized state.
“Mhmm, doll. You want his cock and mine? Don’t worry, I won’t be mad. I’ve always wanted to see how much my girl can take. Just say it.” Fuck. You let out a soft whine, realizing you’re not the only one living their fantasy.
“I want your cock and his. You - You can do whatever you want to me-”
“Anything?” JJ answers your babbling.
“I know the safe word, Jayj. Bet you can’t make me say it,” you taunt, surprising yourself with your words. The mood shifts at your comment, the once playful banter turning dark in a second. That was a challenge he was more than willing to accept. The two laugh cruelly, looking down at you as their prey. JJ’s head tilts slightly. Before you can react, Rafe takes his knife, slicing through the little knot at your waist, cutting open your button-up shirt. JJ rests the cool metal against the heat of your stomach, swiftly snapping his wrist, cutting through your delicate lace bra, leaving you fully exposed on the mattress. You can hear Rafe moan behind the mask, finally getting the glimpse of you he’s always wanted to see.
“Look at you,” Rafe sighs, his voice dripping with desire. “So fuckin’ beautiful. Jesus. I was fuckin’ right. Wasn’t I?” Rafe speaks to you with the deep hunger of a man who’s been starved. You can tell as much as he can wait to ruin you with JJ he’d love to be the one to fulfill all your needs single-handedly, but he’ll settle for the second-best thing. “You’re really into this scary stuff, aren’t you?”
“Mmm… Mhmm… She is. She’s a fuckin’ freak,” JJ hums as he cuts you out of your skirt as well. “Just like me.” You gasp as Rafe wraps his big hand around your throat, your hands instantly drawing to his wrist as he drags you to your feet. He pulls back his mask with his other hand, bringing it back just enough to claim your lips in a passionate kiss.
Rafe kisses you deeply, taking your breath away, the type of urgency that drives you mad just knowing how bad he wants you and how worried he is that JJ would change his mind still. Rafe pulls away suddenly, leaving you panting for a breath. When you open your eyes again, his mask is in place. You gasp in surprise again as JJ’s big hand takes hold of your head from behind, pressing you down to your knees before you can even think straight.
Your heart starts to speed up as both boys reach for their pants. Rafe pinches the soft material in his rough fingers, tugging it down his muscular thighs as JJ works on his. The textiles all fall to puddles at their feet. You reach up, cupping both of their cocks through the tight cotton material of their boxers, making both boys release a hungry groan as you squeeze their big dicks in your slight hands, feeling yourself already soaking through your panties.
You help JJ out of his boxers with a smile before moving on to Rafe, doing the same. Wrapping your fingers around their cocks you watch as their heads fall back almost in synch, abs clenching tight with the first stroke, the both of them stepping a little closer, wanting your warm, wet mouth around them.
You look up at Rafe, your mouth falling open as you feel JJ's swollen tip press against your plush, parted lips. You tease his tip with a kitten lick, making him grab hold of your head, guiding his dick deep in your throat. You take care of Rafe with your hand, pleasing JJ with your mouth, and taste his salty precum glazing your tongue.
Rafe takes a similar hold on your head, pulling you off JJ’s cock, yanking you toward his. “Fuckin’ lick that shit,” Rafe hums. You look down at the slit on his tip, watching a mess of precum seeping out the blushed head of his cock. You flick your tongue across, swirling it for good measure. Rafe’s fat head rams into the back of your throat, making your eyes prick with tears. The wet rolls heavily down your cheeks. You get pulled off again, even rougher than before. JJ grabs both braids in his large, ringed hands, using your mouth like a toy.
“Mine,” Rafe hisses. “Don’t you know how to fuckin’ share?” JJ releases you with a cocky laugh; the two pass your head back and forth ‘til you are a cock drunk mess of tears and moans. Tears block your vision. You try your best to blink them away as you feel both men using your mouth at the same time, alternating between strokes, fighting for space as they see how far they can push you.
Your eyes double as Rafe’s large hand pinches your nose closed. You reach out, gripping their legs, squeezing tightly, and letting your nails dig into the thick thighs. “M’fuckkk,” JJ moans intensely, his muscles trembling under your grasp. Rafe pulls off your nose, leaving you open-mouthed and sputtering for a breath.
“Keep your mouth open, slut,” Rafe rasps, delivering a rough slap to your cheek. You brush your hands over your eyes, flattening your tongue as the boys stroke their long, thick cocks fiercely. Their moans and praise fill the room as cum spurts from their throbbing tips, painting your cheeks, tongue, and mouth as you try to recover from the lack of oxygen. JJ grabs the back of your head, fingers twisting in your braid, lifting your face to look up at the two of their masked faces. Rafe grabs your cheeks harshly as well, rubbing his rough thumb across your lips, catching the cum on his finger before stuffing it in your mouth. You suck on his digit, cleaning up the rest of the mess. “Atta baby. Fuckin’ cum slut aren't you?”
“Mhmm…” You moan around his thumb.
“Tell him what you are, princess,” JJ mumbles as he tugs your hair, making your back arch slightly, tits perking up.
“M’a cum slut, daddies.”
“Daddies,” Rafe drawls in a charmed tone, loving his new title as JJ tugs you to your feet. He keeps his hold on you, pinning your arms behind your back with one hand, using the other arm to wrap around your throat, turning you toward Rafe.
Tears still brim at your waterline from a mix of excitement and defenselessness, doing nothing but turning Rafe on more. Your emotion trails down your hot cheeks, catching your makeup as it runs in little rivers. Your heart races wildly as it has been for days; this time in the throws of a fantasy.
The air is charged with tension as Rafe walks closer, lifting his mask slightly to lick along the side of your neck before biting down hard, making you cry. His hand reaches up, slamming over your pillowy lips. “You better shut the fuck up, princess. Don't want the boys to think we’re doin’ anything but pleasin’ this whore pussy. Hmm? I'd hate to stop. Wouldn't you?” He asks, tearing your panties away in the same breath. Rafe reaches over to the mattress. You go to look, but JJ squeezes your neck, forcing you still.
“Where do you think you're goin’? Huh?” He laughs against your neck.
“Put her on the bed, pin her wrists, we got ourselves a squirmer,” Rafe mocks before slapping your wet cunt, making you do just that. You suck in a breath as JJ squeezes you firmly, tearing you back before shoving you down on the mattress face first. He snatches your body with his strong hands, manhandeling you to your back before mounting the bed. He clambers to the head, holding your wrists, yanking you higher, before tacking your wrists to the bed.
Rafe walks toward you slowly, twirling the dagger between his big fingers. You feel your body tremble with adrenaline—the cold blade presses against your skin, making you whine. Before you can think, he turns it slightly, nicking your skin, making a small cut just enough to sting. A weak cry escapes your soft lips, awakening something primal in you. You lift your head off the bed, watching the blood bead on the tiny wound. Rafe lifts his mask, lowering himself to your inner thigh, sucking gently, breaking you out in a cold sweat as pleasure mixes with pain.
"Fuck, you taste like heaven," he mumbles, still close to your skin. The warmth of his admission fanning across your skin.
“You should taste her pussy,” JJ rasps.
“Yeah, buddy. She got a sweet little cunt?” He asks like you're not even there.
“Fuckin’ perfect.”
His focus drops to yours, making your eyes widen. “N’I bet you want that pretty pussy ate. Don't you?” He asks as he draws the knife across JJ’s bed, the sharp tip facing down, scraping against the comforter, working higher and higher. You let out his name shakily as he pushes the flat edge against your pussy hard, even the slightest contact making you cry out. Rafe lifts the knife, running that same edge against his tongue before lowering himself on the mattress.
Rafe massages your inner thighs with his big hands, splaying you wide as JJ's rough hands trace down your body grabbing your tits, pressing them together for his frat brother. JJ slaps your breasts, making your thighs pull in; Rafe’s strong arms loop around your thighs, forcing you to stay still. “The fuck did I say, Maybank. She’s a goddamn squirmer. Move again, pretty. I dare you,” Rafe warns, his dirty threats vibrating against your soaked core.
“Jay,” you whimper as JJ's fingers pinch your nipples, twisting hard, making you squeal and shift with overstimulation.
“No. No. Fuck, baby.” Rafe chides.
“Thought you wanted his mouth, mama. Why aren’t you listening? Huh?” JJ digs as Rafe grabs the knife again. He sheathes the blade in his leather holder before turning around. Your eyes widen as he slowly traces the handle up your thigh.
“Wh-What are you-Fuckkk…” Your question gets swallowed up in a moan as Rafe plunges the handle of the knife into your tight hole, fucking you with the weapon. The curved grip hits your sweet spot, eliciting the prettiest moans from your pillowy lips.
“Mmm’so fuckin’ soaked, y/n,” Rafe murmurs drunkenly as he watches it glide in and out. You whimper pathetically as you look down at him with doe-eyes, then back up at Jay.
“C’mon, princess. Fuckin’ manners. Say you’re sorry for not listening. Let Rafe know you’ll do whatever it takes.”
“I’ll do what - whatever it takes,” you nod rapidly as you look down at the masked man between your thighs. “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever it takes. I like that sound,” Rafe mumbles as he lifts his mask. “Based off those pretty, little sounds you we’re makin’ a few nights back, princess… I don’t think you can handle what I want,” Rafe chuckles darkly before spitting on your pearl, pinching and rubbing your clit.
“Do we care, Rafe?” JJ asks, making your eyes widen, rolling back a moment later as Rafe's plush lips suck down on your bud.
“Fuck!” You cry in a hoarse whine as Rafe assaults your pussy with his mouth and knife. JJ drops your hands, looking down at you from above. You panic as he reaches for his knife instead, resting the narrow side of his blade against your throat.
“Don’t fucking move,” he warns; you take two fistfuls of sheets as your pleasure builds, your damn threatening to break at any second.
Rafe pulls out the weapon, replacing the butt of the blade with the smoothness of his warm tongue. His big thumb rolls on your clit. “M’gonna cum. Fuck. Mpfhh,” you hiccup and gasp, trying to stay still.
“It’ll hurt if you move, baby doll,” JJ barbs, his voice oozing with condescension.
“Oh my god,” you pant as your muscles lock tight, your voice coming out in a broken string of curse words as you pulse around Rafe’s tongue again and again. He moans into your pussy, pleasing you until the very last moment. Rafe runs the back of his hand against his chin, shined with your sweet release.
“She’s got the sloppiest fuckin’ pussy,” JJ praises in his southern drawl.
“She’s a filthy little whore. That’s for sure,” Rafe smiles. “So fucking sweet, baby.”
“Mhmm… Still dripping ‘n she probably already wants to get fucked dumb.”
“What was that little dig before, buddy? ‘Bet you can make me say it…’” Rafe softens his tone, mimicking yours.
“‘Bet you can’t make me say it’,” JJ tries on your voice as well, taunting you further.
“Stuff two dicks in her cunt, and she might be eatin’ her words,” Rafe laughs as he pulls you off the mattress, pressing your heaving chest against his. His hard cock stands painfully straight, snuggled between your thighs as you try to compute what he just said.
“If she starts crying, just cover her mouth, Cameron.”
“Good fuckin’ point,” Rafe groans, and you just wish you could see the fever in his blue eyes. He grabs your hips, turning you around fast. JJ’s already got his cock in his fist, just waiting for you to sink on his tip.
“Rafe was right, doll… Two dicks,” JJ sighs. “Had you cryin’ off one. What do you think’s gonna happen with two? Huh?”
“Split her shit in two probably,” Rafe laughs as he squeezes the fullness of your hips in his massive hands. You lower yourself down on his length, your head falling back on Rafe's chest as you take him fully. Your hand draws to your stomach already feeling full, JJ’s dick big enough on its own. You squeak out a cry as JJ wrap his hand around your throat, using the other to tear off his mask before pulling you down to his lips. You lay flat on his chest as his tongue roll with yours, kissing you sloppily as Rafe's big hands paw at your ass cheeks. “Ready baby, JJ,” mutters.
“Uh-huh,” you mumble as Rafe bullies his swollen tip at your greedy hole as well. JJ grabs your hips, lifting you off his cock, giving Rafe a shot.
Rafe sinks in, long and deep, plunging into your fluttering core before yanking himself out altogether, making you clutch his wrists. “Been holdin’ out on me, Maybank. S’fuckin’ heaven,” Rafe rasps from behind. He grabs your hips, pistoning into you, making you fall forward from his rough thrusts as you cry out in pleasure, delivering backshot after backshot.
Rafe pulls out, leaving you empty for a moment; JJ quickly nestles himself in again the next. You rest your heavy head on JJ’s chest, watching over your shoulder as Rafe’s fat cock pushes in, too, making you wail in pain and pleasure. You bury your face in the blonde's body as they start to stroke, settling on a rhythm just to change the pattern, only leaving you more of a mess. Your soaked pussy pulls them in, swallowing them up, making both men moan and grunt with each motion.
Rafe lifts his hand, bringing it down to slap the curve of your ass as JJ snakes his hand down, toying with your clit. Rafe spats on you again, dropping a dollop of spit onto your taut hole. You bite your lip and shake your head. ‘No,’ the safe word is right on the tip of your tongue, and you're unsure if your body can take any more. “Ja- JJ-” Rafe’s large hand clamps over your mouth as his other thumb presses into your asshole.
“Shut the fuck up and fuckin’ cum,” JJ smiles. Your eyes roll back in your skull as you’re set flying over the edge. Your pussy gushes around their cocks as they pump you to the hilt. Rafe groans in pleasure, gripping your hips, forcing his cock as deep as it’ll go as JJ does the same. You feel their warm cum mixing with yours; your puffy, pink pussy so full you burst at the seams. Your eyes flutter shut as you soften into JJ’s chest, feeling like you could pass out.
Rafe moves first, leaving you a blubbering mess as the ridges of his big cock, slide out of your cum-stained walls. JJ pulls out a second, Rafe quickly tugging your ass cheeks apart, watching the cum seep out of your glassy slit onto the bed below. “Told ya she was a freak,” JJ hums against your kiss-bitten lips, sucking off the bottom as you flutter your lashes, fighting for consciousness.
“Just fuckin’ perfect for us. Aren’t you, princess?”
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“JJ doesn’t deserve you,” Rafe whispers, his gaze intense as he brushes a thumb gently across your cheek, cleaning up what remains of the mascara mess. “You’re stunning, even like this. You know?” He praises.
“She knows, man,” JJ scoffs, making Rafe smirk.
“We’re doin’ that shit again, princess,” he leans in, giving you a gentle kiss. “With or without him. N’I'd prefer without.”
“The fuck, Rafe?” JJ grumbles sleepily as he wraps his arm over you, nuzzling your neck. “You wanna do that again, baby?”
“Mpfhh… Yeah. Take off your clothes,” you hum as you tug at the bottom of Rafe’s shirt, making both boys release sleazy laughs, pretty proud of themselves for how good they made you feel. Rafe moves closer, using the contract as an excuse to steal another kiss.
“Don’t tempt me... Text me when he goes to bed. Yeah?”
“Do you ever quit?” JJ yawns, shoving Rafe’s face away from yours.
“You two stayin’ in?” Rafe asks as he slips into one of JJ’s t-shirts, impossibly tight on his broad chest and thick biceps.
“You leavin’?” JJ asks curiously.
“Might go to Slice. I might go to Lambda Nu. Feelin’ a little worn out. M’hungry as all fuck.”
“Bring us back some pizza. Yeah?” JJ yawns. Rafe shoots him a look, knowing he’s two minutes from passing the fuck out. Rafe pulls the black cloak over his shoulders, giving you a wink as he pushes his bangs back, tugging on his Ghostface mask again.
“You wear a costume. You get a free slice. You owe me for yours, Maybank. I’ll get you whatever you’d like, princess,” he croons. Rafe walks over to you one last time, lowering himself to your lips before lifting his mask just enough to kiss you a little deeper this time, setting your heart ablaze. “Can't stop kissin’ you now that I started.”
“JJ didn't say if he’d kill you or not. You better stop,” you flirt as your lips brush against his, sucking off his bottom lip.
“Fuck, I'd like to see him try… Goodnight, baby.”
“Goodnight. Thank you.”
He chuckles against your lips. “You thankin’ me? What are you thankin’ me for? Huh? Best pussy I’ve ever had-”
“Fuck off, Cameron.” JJ shoves Rafe harder than before, making Rafe lower his mask before lifting his hands in surrender.
“Good night.”
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You can’t help but smile, still caught in the afterglow. The sex was so raw and rough, leaving you completely wrecked in the most blissful sense of the word. You turn to JJ, catching him watching you with a warmth in his eyes. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss against your lips.
JJ reaches over to his nightstand, tugging open a drawer, pulling out a joint. “What do you say, princess?” He asks as a mischievous smile spreads across his lips, matching yours.
The two of you make your way across his dimly lit room, tugging open the window; the lingering smell of sex wafts away, exchanging for the cool night air as JJ helps you onto the roof. The party continues to thump below, just background noise.
JJ flicks his BIC, lighting the joint, the flame briefly illuminating his features before he takes a long, satisfying haul. He puffs one more time before passing it to you. You lift it to your lips, tagging a drag, feeling the thick smoke circle in your lungs. “Not a bad night. Huh?” He asks fishing for compliments that you’ll more than happy to give.
“That was a fucking fantasy, Jay,” you smile as you lay back on the rough roof, watching the stars twinkle above you.
“I’m glad. Got kinda wild in there, baby girl. You okay?” He asks sweetly. You feed him the joint, resting it between his soft lips before turning toward him, playing with his fluffy blonde hair.
“I’m more than okay, Jay.”
“N’you were okay with Rafe bein’ there?” JJ asks.
More than okay with that too… You take a little breath as you grapple with that thought. “Mhmm…Yeah. Were you?” You ask, watching smoke seep out of his mouth; his lips tugging to the side a little.
He bites his cheek, looking away, fighting with the part of himself that actually wants to feel something. “Well, I… Shit. Sorry. I umm… I kinda got jealous. Not gonna lie. Usually, like Rafe flirtin’ with you ‘cause you're mine at the end of the day. Call me evil, but I fuckin’ love that shit,” he rambles as he studies the joint between his finger, eyeing the dent the two of you’ve already made in it. “Casual. I mean, I wanted that. No strings attached. But who am I kidding? We both know that ain’t true.”
“I mean you do keep callin’ me yours, Jay.”
“N’you’re not?” He questions, lifting his eyebrows playfully.
“‘Course I am,” you smile, and you mean it, but not in the way that you did before. There’s this pull now, two forces at play inside you, Rafe and JJ, the two tugging your heart both ways. You’ve wanted this for a while now, but it doesn’t feel as sweet. It took seeing you with someone else to make JJ feel like maybe he wanted more.
Jealousy? He’s the one who wanted casual, who insisted on no strings, and now he’s upset about the strings he’s suddenly tangled in. There was always that line that I could see with Rafe. The one that I had yet to cross, knowing that if I did, there would be no turning back. I’ve more than crossed it after tonight… And I don’t know if I want to go back.
You look away as well, trying to gather your muddled thoughts as you sort through the mess. “We don’t have to talk about that now, sweetheart,” he quickly pivots before sucking down a little more of the joint. “Look at you, relaxin’ n’ shit,” he rasps on his exhale.
“Who knew it would only take a threesome to get me out of my head?” You humor him, moving on to the next conversation.
“Anything new?” JJ asks as he nods to your phone, faux curiosity, in an attempt to divert you further. Hoping you’ll forget all about the little jealousy talk. You shrug and grab your device, pulling open the police scanner app, listening to the crackling of static through the speakers.
It’s a barrage of chatter: dispatchers and cops talking about the usual complaints. “Nothing new.” You take a pull from the joint, smoke curling around you like a ghostly fog smudging out the stars overhead. “Do you think Rafe is going to get us pizza? I’m hungry.”
“Probably for you,” JJ chuckles, rolling his eyes away.
“There’s a party at the Beta Chi house on Woodsboro Street.” A voice whizzes through the scanner, catching your attention.
“No,” JJ groans, throwing a little fit and stamping the ember end on the roof. “God damnit.”
“How many we got?” The police officer chirps.
“Over a hundred,” the dispatcher adds, commenting on the horde of college students gathered inside and on the lawn.
“Thought we had two units on College Row?” The officer asks.
“They’re responding to a break-in two blocks north at the cross street of Weathers and Loomis.”
“Jesus,” JJ huffs. “A hundred?”
“Possible fight. Send an extra car.”
“Fuck, I hate missin’ a fight,” JJ sits up, looking out at the sea of students still partying, seeing if he can catch some of the action.
Just another night. You laugh weakly before taking a deep breath, looking up at the night again; the weed smoke clears, giving you the perfect view of the star-sprinkled sky. JJ reaches out, intertwining his fingers in yours before laying back again.
A blood-curdling scream pierces the night air. Your heart drops as you sit up straight, looking over the roof's edge. Panic surges through the crowd below as people scatter in every direction, sprinting away. The police sirens wail in the distance, moving closer and closer as the party music drowns out the circus below. “Call the cops!” “Get the fuck out!” “Move. Move!” “Run.” “Somebody got stabbed!” “He’s got a knife!”
“Stabbed?” JJ breathes. Everything below you melts together as people spill out of the house like ants, pushing, shouting, and scattering in every direction. Cars swerve on College Row, skirting around students, fleeing for safety. Red and blue lights come into view, cutting through the dim. You look down on the crowd, watching as a figure emerges, cutting through the thick—draped in a black cape.
Your breath catches in your chest as you see a knife, glistening with crimson red, clutched in his big hand. Blood drips from the blade; he quickly wipes it away on his cape as he steps off the curb onto the road—a blue Jeep. Your eyes double as you see the driver and the other person in the car waiting, both wearing masks. You look down at the masked man’s feet, black satin pants dusting along the ground. Your heart rate climbs as the pieces clink together.
“All units, we have reports of a stabbing at the frat house: multiple victims, multiple suspects fleeing the scene. Proceed with caution. Repeat, proceed with caution!”
Rafe, Topper, and Kelce…
The scanner crackles again, breaking your thoughts. “Suspect is described as wearing a Ghostface mask, last seen heading east on Woodsboro Street in a black truck. All units, be on the lookout.”
Oh my god. You’re paralyzed as Rafe turns, locking eyes with you, waiting to see if you’ll react. He stalls until the last possible moment, banging his fist against the side of the Jeep in frustration before sinking into the vehicle, the three speeding off fast.
“What are you doing?” You ask JJ in a panic. His face glows in the light of his phone as he opens his call log, dialing out for Rafe.
“I need to make sure Rafe’s okay.”
A strange numbness settles over you as you realize he didn't see what you saw. You can hear the muffled dial tone ring. Rafe picks up almost instantly, his voice coming through the speaker with that familiar lazy charm. “The fuck do you want, bitch?” He taunts.
“Where-”
“Tell y/n the pizza she wants is burnt to shit, but I’ll wait until ‘til they make a new one. Aight?” Rafe cuts JJ short.
“Thank god, man,” JJ sighs in relief, burying his head in his hand. “Holy fuckin’ shit-”
“The hell’s goin’ on?” Rafe asks.
“Somebody got stabbed. A few people? We don’t know how many. We’re on the roof.”
“Stabbed?” Rafe asks in disbelief. He’s good… So good that, for a split second, you question what you know you saw: Thornton’s Jeep, three big bodies, a pair of Noble Loafers, and black satin pants. That’s Rafe’s knife… That blood was fresh. “Is y/n okay?” He asks protectively. “Can I talk to her?”
“Yeah, man. She’s good. Just shaken up. ‘Course you can talk to her.” JJ passes the phone to you, your hand trembling and clammy as you lift it to your ear.
“Baby?” Your stomach sinks, chills running down your spine as you hear his deep voice. “Are you okay?” He asks as a test; a probe, to see if you’ll break. You take a deep, jagged breath, steadying yourself, forcing the words past your lips.
“I’m okay.” The lie comes easily, slipping into place like it belongs there.
“That’s good, princess,” his voice softens, quiet enough, reserved for your ears only. “You’re not gonna say anything, are you?” He asks, and just like before, when you could hear his smile under the mask.
“No,” you whisper, and you mean it. You hear his deep, raspy laugh swell on the other side.
“That’s my girl.”
🔪🔪 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖉. 🔪🔪
𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
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the-californicationist · 1 year ago
Text
They Help You Practice
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Task Force 141 asks you to be the bait for a secret assignment. So, they make you audition for the role. You end up getting gangbanged by the whole team and loving it!
TW: gangbang, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, gay sex, degradation, explicitly consensual, spit? please check AO3 link at bottom for full tag list
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You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate. 
“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”
You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded. 
Price continued,
“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”
“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into. 
“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”
A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,
“What kind of bait, sir?”
“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”
“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.
The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job. 
“Good. Let's brief the team.”
Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in. 
“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”
You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position. 
The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.
“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”
Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments. 
“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”
“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room. 
Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,
“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”
“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”
“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms. 
“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly. 
Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,
“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”
“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked. 
“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”
Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return. 
You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.
But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight. 
Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,
“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”
Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.
You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back. 
You smiled,
“Well, do I look the part?”
Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,
“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”
“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”
Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,
“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”
“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”
“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”
“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”
“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.
Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,
“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”
“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”
Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,
“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”
The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 
Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,
“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “or down?”
The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it. 
“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone. 
The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,
“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”
You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you. 
Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,
“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin. 
Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath. 
“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”
“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.  
He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts. 
Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache. 
Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,
“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”
You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,
“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”
You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew. 
“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”
You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,
“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”
You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon. 
He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths. 
“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone. 
The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe. 
“You alright, babes?” He laughed.
You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner. 
Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly. 
“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.
He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you. 
You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match. 
Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation. 
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning. 
You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs. 
Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time. 
Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,
“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slut, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”
He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face, 
“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”
You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you. 
“He’s not allowed to come in you, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”
Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.
Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act. 
Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain. 
“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded. 
You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide. 
He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons, 
“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”
You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate. 
“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”
He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion. 
“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.
Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched. 
Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core. 
Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,
“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”
Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole. 
“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”
Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.
Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,
“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here, lass. Breathe with me, lass.”
He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done. 
It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in. 
Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.
You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own. 
He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,
“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”
“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.
Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,
“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”
He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony. 
As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.
“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”
“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.” 
Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out. 
Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,
“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”
He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again. 
“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”
Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price. 
“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”
“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been. 
Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant. 
They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,
“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”
“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.
“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”
“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”
“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you. 
He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again. 
You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,
“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”
Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation. 
“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”
“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”
“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added. 
Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange. 
Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.
“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval. 
“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”
The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise. 
Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,
“Missing your masked man already?”
You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,
“He’s a little…preoccupied.”
Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure. 
Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole. 
“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”
He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb. 
When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return. 
“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”
You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover. 
Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale. 
“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.
“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 
“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him. 
“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got  yourself a new permanent assignment.”
Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,
“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”
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jaewritesfic · 7 months ago
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Melon AU Part 4
Cass is quietly adamant that her new cling-on be taken to the Batcave, no matter the concerns Bruce raises.
If he's honest, his protests fall a little flat even to his own ears. The fact of the matter is that he looks at the midnight apparition she holds and just…can't bring himself to fight very hard.
The creature clings to her like a desperate child, claws curled into her cape in a way that's bound to leave holes. Bruce hasn't caught so much as a glimpse of the face since it grabbed onto Cass, head resolutely tucked into her shoulder. That long sinuous tail is wrapped around her waist and down one leg as if the slightest disconnect could wrench them fully apart.
She was right, it's scared and it needs help.
Bruce almost thinks convincing Commissioner Gordon to lift the police barricade at the end of the alley will be the difficult part, but he's proven wrong. Gordon is more than happy to foist the situation off onto the Bat colony, it's just a matter of figuring out actual transport.
It's not that Bruce doesn't want the creature in the Batmobile. It's that nobody is sure the creature will respond well to someone other than Cass being in proximity to it.
Bruce may be feeling distinctly sympathetic, but he's still not comfortable leaving his daughter totally alone with something strange, unknown and dangerous.
He doesn't want Cass alone with it - them. They probably won't respond well to anyone but Cass being close enough to be in a car with them.
Ultimately this culminates in Bruce pulling the Batmobile around and trying to be very. Very. Quiet.
The shadow creature hasn't raised their head from Cass’s shoulder once, so hopefully as she climbs in the back with her clingy cargo they won't notice they're not alone.
…nobody is going to claim this is a good or creative plan. It's kind of just the only option they can think of.
The creature clicks and whines as she climbs in, aware and nervous about the enclosed space probably, but they don't raise their head or move.
If anything they just wind themselves around Cass a little tighter.
“Shhhh,” Cass hushes gently. “Car. Take us to safe place. I promise.”
Bruce is used to her cowl enough to be able to tell she's glancing at him in the rear view mirror.
Thankfully, the Batmobile can autopilot to the cave. His presence is solely because he refuses to leave her alone with their new…guest. That means he can sign at her.
Did you get a better look at the injuries?
She shakes her head minutely. Hm. Bruce had feared that was the answer, considering how fast the creature had plastered themselves to her.
Do they seem to be losing a lot of blood?
A tiny shrug. Not a yes, not a no. Bleeding, but not gushing. Or maybe she's not sure how much without a visual, though if it was egregious she'd feel it even with the suit.
The heat of it, the slickness.
Bruce decides the shrug is a tentative good sign.
“Let's play questions,” Cass says suddenly, hands rubbing gentle, comforting back and forth patterns against a back so dark it looks like a void. “Nothing scary. Get to know you questions.”
There's no answer, but it doesn't seem to faze her. Of course not. She's Cass.
“Will you play? Tap once yes,” she says softly, tapping the creature's back with her index finger once, “And twice for no. No is okay. You can say no.”
There's a long moment where Bruce watches them in the rear view and nothing happens. Then Cass's cowl shifts in the way that means she's smiling.
“Thank you. Pronouns first, okay? One for she-”
She taps once.
“Two for he-”
She taps twice.
“Three for- oh. Thank you. Good boy. I'm she.”
The rest of the family exposes themselves as listening, quiet murmurs and exclamations over the comms at the new knowledge that their creature considers himself male.
Bruce isn't surprised that his kids have been listening with baited breath.
“From Gotham? One for yes, two for no.”
She hums softly, going back to petting his back gently.
“Me neither at first. Home now, like the back of my hand. Can show you all the best spots. Like burgers?”
There's a long pause. Bruce suspects the creature is having a hard time believing she's talking about and proposing such casual topics.
Eventually she smiles again. “Me too. Will buy you Batburger, I promise. Nectar of the gods.”
An odd little vibration goes through her new friend, audible as well as visible. It seems almost like a weak laugh.
“....bets on shadow noodle’s favorite Batburger order?” Dick asks over comms.
Bruce purses his lips not to huff in amusement. They're almost to the cave, he'd like to stay incognito until then. He wouldn't want to alarm any shadow noodles.
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hjpsdiary · 1 month ago
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COCA COLA - theodore not x fem!reader
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the sound of the common room door opening broke the relative quiet, followed by loud voices and laughter. you didn’t even need to look up from your book to know who it was. the slytherin boys always made their presence known.
“theo, you skipped out on the match?” blaise’s voice was dripping with mock disbelief. “what’s the matter, afraid of a little excitement?”
“quidditch is for show-offs,” theo drawled, leaning lazily against the windowsill. he was nursing a half-empty bottle of coca-cola, his dark eyes watching you as though you were the only person in the room. “besides, it’s loud. not my thing.”
“ah, so you decided to sit here and stare at your girl instead?” mattheo riddle teased, flopping onto the couch and throwing his feet up on the table. his smirk was as wicked as ever. “romantic, theo. very romantic.”
your cheeks burned, but theo didn’t rise to the bait, just tilted his head and smirked back. “jealous, riddle? don’t worry, mate, i’m sure there’s a first-year somewhere who’d love your attention.”
“oh, piss off,” mattheo shot back, though the grin on his face said he wasn’t offended.
“leave them alone,” draco’s drawl came from somewhere behind mattheo. “some of us would rather not hear theo being all… sentimental.”
“who said i was being sentimental?” theo retorted, his voice low and smooth as he stepped closer to you. “just sharing a drink, that’s all.”
blaise, ever the instigator, chuckled from his spot by the fire. “right. because handing over your drink isn’t intimate at all.”
“shut up,” you muttered, your face now fully flushed. you’d been trying to focus on your book, but with theo standing so close, his piercing gaze fixed on you, it was impossible to concentrate.
“you gonna defend me, or just let them keep running their mouths?” theo asked, his tone teasing as he handed you the bottle again. his fingers brushed yours, lingering just a second too long. “don’t be shy, y/n.”
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you hesitated, taking a small sip of the soda. the sweetness lingered on your tongue, and you could feel theo’s eyes on you the entire time. when you handed the bottle back, his smirk deepened.
“what’s that look for?” you asked, your voice a little shaky.
“nothing,” he said, taking a slow sip himself. but when he pulled the bottle away, his tongue darted out to lick a drop from his lip, and his eyes were darker than they had been before. “just thinking how good it tastes.”
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the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, and the room suddenly felt too warm. before you could respond, mattheo groaned loudly, throwing his head back against the couch. “merlin, can you two stop eye-fucking each other for five seconds? some of us are trying to relax.”
“jealous?” theo asked, his smirk never wavering as he handed the bottle back to you. “don’t worry, riddle. maybe y/n will share.”
“not a chance,” you said, surprising yourself with your boldness.
the room erupted in laughter, mattheo throwing a pillow at you, which you easily dodged. but theo’s attention never wavered. he stepped closer, the bottle still in your hands, and leaned down so his face was level with yours.
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“you know,” he murmured, his voice just low enough that only you could hear, “i can still taste it on you.”
your breath hitched as his lips brushed against the corner of your mouth, barely a whisper of contact, but enough to make your heart race. his hand found your waist, his grip firm and possessive as his thumb grazed your skin.
“oi!” blaise called out, his tone mock-offended. “take it to your dorms, theo. some of us don’t need to see this.”
“then stop looking,” theo shot back, his voice lazy but his eyes locked on yours. “besides, you lot are the ones who interrupted.”
draco groaned, running a hand through his hair as he stood. “right. that’s my cue to leave. if you’re going to be insufferable, do it somewhere else.”
as the others filtered out of the room, still throwing jabs and laughing, theo turned back to you, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “finally,” he muttered, his thumb brushing your cheek. “now, where were we?”
you couldn’t even form a response before his lips were on yours, soft and sweet, tasting of coca-cola and something undeniably theo. the kiss was slow at first, exploratory, but when you sighed against his mouth, his grip on your waist tightened, and he deepened it, leaving you breathless.
“you taste better than the coke,” he murmured, his voice rough as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “but don’t tell blaise. he’ll never shut up about it.
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baka-bakeneko · 1 month ago
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The Hunt
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Feral Alpha!Logan Howlett x Mutant Fem!Reader
tags: NSFW, MDNI, mutant fem reader [a doppleganger mutancy], professor xavier/ ororo/ scott/ kurt/ rogue involved, strangers to lovers, logan in rut, feral alpha logan attempts to tame himself, animal/bait mentality, scents/smells, flirty sparring, dry humping, voyeurism, panty stealing, shower masturbation, mind reading [Xavier you dirty dog], oral sex [reader receiving], fingering, size difference, too big for you, slight praise kink, clothed sex, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, mating press missionary, knotting, discussion of knotting/ rut
wc: 8.8k
Logan was awake for hours before the house was. He heard the mansion settle around him in soft creaks, the sun slowly peeking through the curtains at the break of dawn.
He committed himself to stay in bed until he was forced out, feeling that today would be disastrous. Logan felt it deep in his core, his nose flaring with a growl rumbling through his mouth.
He was sliding into the pit of rut.
He regretted opening his eyes. Logan was short on normal days, but for the week of rut, he was an irate short-fuse.
He was aware of it, knew how the others reacted to him. Logan groaned, turning onto his side with a groan to himself.
Looking at his door, he noticed it was unlocked. Even though his bed drew him in, Logan knew he'd be better off just locking himself inside for the day.
Maybe he'd slip a note to someone passing by for them to bring him lunch. Logan pulled himself upright, swinging his legs over the edge, ready to commit himself to his room.
But his nose twitched at a intriguing scent moving outside of his door. He heard the soft creak of the floorboards, the tender cracks of feet as they shuffled.
He mapped the layout of the house, trying to recognize who it was outside his door. Logan was at the door as soon as he knew it was you.
He pried his door open a crack, peeking his nose out to sniff after you. Your scent to him was spiced, sweet tangerine with a bite of ginger.
It ate into his belly, only fueling the slippery descent into his rut.
You were actually trying to stay quiet on this early morning. You hadn't been able to stay asleep for long, replaying Professor Xavier's lecture overnight.
He'd called you into his office to talk about your powers. He mentioned that you were holding back too much, that doing so would only stunt your growth further.
It was still in your head as you shuffled past Logan's room, too enveloped in how you should've responded. If you were stuck on it too long, you'd split into two and become the literal angel and devil.
It was more of a parlor trick than a power. What use was it in tactical prowess and missions?
Logan only watched you shuffle by, his mouth parting in a soft pant. He caught himself, clamping his hand over his mouth as his eyes dragged down your body.
Logan chastised himself for the thought of your clothes being easily accessible. Your oversized heather gray X shirt showed a peek of shoulder. Your shorts, also branded with the X academy logo, were tempting at too short.
The white hem of them cut right at the cusp of your ass, leaving your legs to look so long. The legwarmer-slipper combo didn't really help either, Logan imagined that they'd be easier to grip over your head.
He bristled at the encroaching dark thoughts, retreating back into his room. You paused halfway down the hall, looking behind you as you heard the door creak.
Logan's door slowly shut as you stared at it, tilting your head before making your way to the kitchen. You hadn't had the pleasure to meet Logan in entirety. It was only rumors and stories you heard about him, seeing flashes of him in the hallway.
A part of you, always the diabillo, always felt him near. She bristled inside you, like you were a glass jar she'd turn in his direction and the heat would accumulate there. You ignored her, continuing your shuffling.
Logan barricaded against his door, clutching his chest to regain his conscience. His stomach growled, unsated, though not in the way of hunger.
He smacked his nose, hoping to rid your scent from his senses. Logan tried his best to avoid you, but his carnal curiosity got the better of him.
He knew that to sate that part of him, he'd have to leave the room. He knew he would, just to squash the feral slice of his mind needing to hunt you down.
Logan managed to make his own internal agreement with himself. He'd join at breakfast only, one bowl of cereal, across the table from you and hold minimal conversation or eye contact. The bare minimum was all he'd be able to manage before returning his room. Otherwise he wasn't sure how he'd behave.
Logan was the last in the kitchen, grabbing a bowl carefully and walking to the dining room. His eyes scanned cautiously around the table, noticing that the table was packed around. Except for the single seat next to you.
Of course, he thought, readying himself to retreat to his room in defeat.
"Logan, how nice of you to join us," Storm said with a nod of acknowledgement. "We saved you a seat."
You glanced up from your bowl of cereal to see Logan in the kitchen doorway, wearing a grey X branded jacket. His hair was noticeably bed-styled, his demeanor nothing of friendly.
Logan bit down a snarl, his hackles raising at the sudden audience turned to him. He nodded to Xavier and Kurt, then circled the table to sit by you.
He slid into the table, his hands grabbing under the seat to straighten up. Logan's knuckles brushed against your thigh, feeling your soft skin and sparing a peek to your shorts again.
He shut his eyes a moment to regain himself, your shorts ridden up while seated. Logan reached blindly for the box of cereal, guiding it to the lip of his bowl and pouring it in.
He'd failed at part of his agreement already, wanting to cut his losses and stow away in his room. The touch of your skin would do wonders to his imagination now: squeezing your thighs so tightly that he bruises your skin while forcing your knees to your chest.
His eyes shot open, setting the cereal box upright before reaching for the milk. You peeked from the corner of your eye at the stranger next to you, the infamous Logan you'd heard about.
His knuckles grazing you was the first touch you'd had in a while, it caught your breath.
"Xavier, do we have plans for the new recruits?" Storm, Ororo, asked to the head of the table.
Undoubtedly, she was talking about you. Her elbow nudged at yours, smiling at you when she did so.
"Have you seen the training room yet? It's so big," she whispered over to you.
"I was thinking," Xavier began, looking over to Logan who was hurriedly shoveling cereal into his mouth. "Maybe Logan could spar with our new recruit. Get to know each other."
Logan paused, spoon in his mouth as he grunted in Xavier's direction. Hunched over his bowl like the animal within him, Logan looked to the head of the table at Xavier.
The man remained unfazed, unamused, by Logan's actions at the dining table. Logan narrowed his eyes at the professor, wondering why he was volunteered for such a thing especially during his worst time.
Xavier raised his brows at Logan, his eyes barely shifting to you talking to Ororo. Logan cocked his jaw, wanting to evade any proximity to you if he could help it.
"Want do you think, my dear?" Xavier pitched to you, directing your attention back to Logan, then the professor.
"I-I don't think that'd be too bad," you spoke up, glancing to Logan next to you and at Xavier again. "If Logan doesn't mind."
Logan shut his eyes in the direction of Xavier, taking a deep breath in as he settled down from you saying his name. He'd failed two parts of his agreement now.
He struggled to not peel back his top lip, wanting to project distaste though his beast was awaiting the opportunity. He'd hunt you after all, descend on you like a depraved wolf and ingest you with a ferocity that would leave you begging.
Logan's eye twitched, shutting his eyes to reel back to reality. He straightened forward in his seat, dropping his hand to his side.
But his knuckles brushed back down your thigh, making all the way to your shorts. You flinched softly, retreating your leg from his touch though your heart skipped.
"Fine, but only for ten minutes." He grit out, fighting against the ebbing flare in his throat.
He shouldn't have agreed at all, even as he flashed a glare back at Xavier. The professor was practically setting you up as bait and Logan wasn't above taking it.
You smiled over at Logan, hoping that your sentiment would reflect on him. He seemed a foreboding presence, hunched forward shoulders as the hair on his neck bristled like an agitated animal.
His eyes flicked over to you for a second, shocking your smile away, before returning to hoard his cereal into his mouth.
Logan stood before the open doors of the sunroom. The floor was padded with mats, the wooden walls patched up in a similar fashion.
He didn't bother to break to his room, knowing that changing would only delay the inevitable. He'd still need a shower afterwards anyway.
Peering into the room, he watched you card your fingers together then bend forward to touch the floor. You'd opted out of your short shorts, much to Logan's relief and dismay, and into the uniform lyrca spandex given.
They were better and worse on him at the same time; Logan's heart was settled at the lack of skin, but the tightness of them left less to the imagination than before.
He grit his teeth, ready to peel his eyes from you in a moment's notice, but he stared at the apple of your ass guided to the sky. Logan's nose twitched, ready to take in the scent of your clothed pussy presented like this to him.
He swatted at his nose again, shut his eyes and tried to make another agreement to himself. He would not linger. Logan had to stay quick on his feet for the ten minutes because if he paused for a moment too long around you, he'd descend into his hunger.
You held your palms to the mat, doing your best to lengthen your back before sighing at the relief of doing so. Logan's cock twitched at the sound that escaped you, having to turn around in the doorway to regain himself.
Standing upright, you turned at the waist to loosen up then caught sight of the foreboding Logan in the doorway.
"Hey, you ready?" You asked in his direction, turning around fully to face him.
Logan stiffened, readily counting down the minutes left of his social contract. As soon as he returned to his room, he'd board it shut for the week and let his mind run rampant. Anything to soothe the heated knots in his core and the damper on his shoulders.
"Yeah," Logan barked, turning around again and entering the room.
You rolled your shoulders as Logan walked onto the mat, shrugging off his jacket to reveal his built torso.
You paused, taking in Logan's chest adorned with the manly growth of hair. He looked more animal the more you took him in, his hair no longer looking undone but sprouted in short peaks resembling wolf-like ears.
Logan's nose twitched, catching onto your scent anew before him. But this time, a touch dampened.
He raised his brows at you, raising his hands ready to react to your first move. "Let's not waste time."
You gulped, mirroring his hands out. When Xavier suggested sparring, you thought it was more to show off your power of splitting.
Instead you were before this foreboding man, the beast more so, his stature drawing an icy chill from you.
Logan stared at you, awaiting your next move. He expected you to playfully tap his wrist to dissuade the tension, but you were frozen in the spot.
Your feet spread to a fighter's stance, only following Logan's lead in the stringent dance.
Logan bit back a smirk, his neck stretching as the feral gnaw within him egged him to lurch. He took a quick step into your space, causing your heart to jerk in response.
His ears perked at the sound, catching onto the strained vein in your neck from surprise. Logan acted again, earning a short gasp from you.
You tried to stabilize yourself, feeling the double at your back rear up with ferocity. It was an immediate split, the negative feelings from you condensing into a separate entity.
Logan watched as you slowly divided from yourself, an almost exact clone of you stood behind you. All different from them was the reddened tint in their eyes.
"Cute trick," he huffed in the direction of double. "What can it do?"
You squared your shoulders, your actions concentrated to one and not the other. When you regained yourself, you rushed at Logan to occupy your hands.
Each slap at his hands, he caught back with his own reaction. Your forearms met together, causing you to hide a wince at his heavy frame.
Logan spared an amused huff at your efforts, finally able to focus on anything but his throbbing cock. He squeezed his fist, producing his adamantium claws with a soft warble from their appearance l.
"Does she feel pain?" He asked, raising a brow at you.
Logan broke from staring in your eyes, losing his inner will to not advance. He glanced to where your double was previously, then was surprised when you shoved him off.
"Do you?" You asked, watching as your double took a high step off of the back wall to throw a punch at Logan's jaw.
You winced, both at the impact that turned Logan's face with his teeth bared and your knuckles throbbing in react to his hard jaw.
Logan took a second to regain himself, the punch only disorienting him momentarily. You and your double took the chance: they clamped onto his back as you grabbed onto his extended arm and climbed onto it.
In an instant, you hyper-extended your body on his arm, wrapping your legs around the back of his neck to squeeze him into quick submission.
Your double harassed his sides with their short nails, playing dirty as only they could. Logan grunted, attempting to stand tall while the two of you held on tight.
His mind instantly rushed with the thought of your trick doing wonders to him, riding his face and his cock to tide him over. Logan glared heavily at the ceiling, willing himself to not get hard in your presence.
He was trying to regain his track of time, even as your thighs squeezed tighter at his arm to his neck. Logan took a knee to the mat, reaching with his free arm to pry your double off of his back.
You grabbed onto his hand, pulling it up to your shoulder but holding his fingers away from your neck. Logan was reaching his limit of playfully sparring and edging towards possessively ending things.
He took his other knee, leaning over your body to not give way to using his claws to win. You huffed, your hands gripping his wrist as your double finally fended off with you taking the lead.
The strength came back to you when they returned to you, adding a rush of adrenaline to your heart while staring at this man squeezed between your legs.
Logan's nose flicked, taking in more of your scent, the newer dampened kind. It was sweet, cloying to the back of his throat and making him swallow.
His eyes fluttered at the sensation, knowing that you were sating a minuscule flame by scent alone. He reached to tap out, touching your thigh when he did so.
You blinked at the feeling of his touch, a rush going through you with a catch of your breath. Releasing him, you dropped your arms to the mat and looked down at Logan.
He paused, realizing that his obligation to sparring with you was officially over. And yet, he made no moves to scurry away.
Your legs, with him squaring before you, were draped at his shoulders. The sight did a number on your stomach, making your head go light at the fantastical thought of him descending on you.
Logan mapped your face, noting the flush on your cheeks as his mouth went dry. His internal hunger was piqued further by the looks of you.
You were spent, knowing that one ten minute session wouldn't make you a fighter, but Logan was entertained by his bait making a play.
He rested his fists outside of your hips, leaning forward to brush his stiff bulge against the seat of your spandex.
You raised your chin to stifle a low moan, meeting Logan's dark pupils taking over. You pitched again as Logan pressed a bit further, carefully rutting his sheathed cock against your clothed pussy.
"Logan," you stammered, your knees folding further to spur the feral man on.
He huffed, beast descending, and rutted harder against you. Your scent renewed again, which delighted Logan's nose as he flattened his hips to the backs of your thighs.
"Say...say my name again," Logan grit, wanting your pitiful voice to tease at his rut.
You arched your hips, meeting his bulge to your clothed clit. Your lips parted with a pant of Logan's name again and he snarled, barely taming himself to recede.
"How's the training going?" Ororo's voice carried before entering the doorway, allowing Logan the moment to back off.
He fought with himself, clamping his hand over his mouth and nose before standing on his feet. You dropped your legs as you turned your head, watching Logan breeze past Ororo showing up in the doorway then up the stairs.
You breathed out, staring after Logan before meeting Ororo's questioning gaze. "You okay? Was he too rough?"
You shut your eyes, turning your head to the ceiling in disbelief.
Logan shut himself in his room, biting into the crevice of his hand and mutedly groaning out his frustration. He had gone too far, past himself and fed into the roaring wildfire within him.
His cock rutted against the door, seething at the memory of your soft thighs against his hips, the tempting heat of your pussy.
If he'd been given a second more, he'd have torn your pants off. Logan wasn't sure whether it would be fully him if given the chance.
Ororo held her hand out to pull you upright, allowing you to straighten out your clothes before giving you a once over.
"What'd you do to him?" She asked with a sly smile. "And can you teach me for when he's a pain?"
You laughed nervously, the sweat on your forehead chilling a degree as you reached for the back of your neck. "I dunno."
Ororo shared your laugh, more amused than you were. "Why don't you get changed, we're hanging out in the yard. You gotta see Kurt and Scott play tennis. Scott is such a cheater."
You grinned with Ororo resting her arm on your shoulders. "Okay, sure. Let me shower first."
Logan broke away from the door, rushing to his bed. He grabbed at one of his pillows, fluffed it up in the center of his bed then tore into it with his claws.
In a quiet frenzy of feathers, he panted as he stared at the makeshift remedy. It was nothing substantial, and uninviting with the burrow riddled with feather quills. Logan snarled, shrugging at the waistband of his sweats to chase the quick relief.
His animal balked, making him growl at himself. He smacked the thought, and pillow, away. Logan held his face in his hands, sheathing his claws at an attempt to regain his control.
After a beat of silence, Logan grabbed a change of clothes and opened his door to scope out the floor. Seeing he was alone, he dashed down the hallway to the communal showers, shutting the door.
He paused at the sound of the stream going, wondering who he'd have to encounter for a semblance of peace. Logan walked carefully around the block wall to see the shower room filling with steam.
He set his clothes on the counter, stopping to look at a similar pile of clothes on the corner. Leaning over to look, he noticed a pair of cotton underwear folded between a shirt and tennis skirt.
Logan raised a brow, glancing over to the stall being used for the shower and noticed a burn mark starting from your tail bone, lining up next to your spine before ending in a spade like flare just beneath your shoulder blade.
His breath caught, his nostrils flaring at the sloshes of water that ran down your skin. Your hair tangled up with shampoo, Logan's eyes raked along your shoulders, then down your legs before landing at your ass.
He leaned against the counter for a moment, soaking up the sight of you for future use. He bit at his inside lip, drawing blood as his cock strained with immeasurable pain. Glancing back at your clothes, Logan swiped your underwear from the stack and stuffed them into his sweatpants pocket.
Inside, he chastised himself for doing so but figured it'd be better, and softer, than fucking his pillow. Stripping down, he stepped into the furthest stall from you and turned the water on hot.
You circled in the stall, glancing out to the previously empty shower room. You saw your clothes on the counter, then another set of clothes on the far end of the counter.
In the dewy fog of the mirror there was a figure in the furthest stall from you. You tilted your head back to rinse your hair, shutting your eyes to revel in the echoing silence of the tiled room.
Logan's ears perked over the echoing silence of the tiled room to hear the low sighs from you. His eyes twinged at his pupils dilating, his mind holding onto your sounds as he reached for his cock.
Without soap, Logan stroked his vein-strained cock barely containing the groan from doing so. He attempted to keep his noises to a minimum, letting a few soft whimpers and moans escape him as he tried to cum quickly.
It was an itching chase towards an ounce of relief. He leaned forward, bracing his forearm against the shower wall while the hot water battered down his back. The steam accumulated, catching in his throat and driving him to pant outwardly.
Tilting his head back, Logan tried to catch a dry breath of air, letting slip a pleased groan.
You froze in the shower stall, feeling the warm water on your back chill to ice instantly. You pulled your head from the stream to listen in on Logan.
Staring at his reflection in the mirror, you watched his back flex, hunched in the stream of his own shower.
Your chest felt compacted in the steam, your breath catching higher the more his noises seeped through.
You slid a hand over your thigh, gripping your own flesh before drawing yourself out. Rinsing off in a short huff, you shut off your water then walked out of the stall.
Logan paused, holding his cock in his hand as he listened in on you leaving. He tilted his ear in your direction, waiting for you to dress while his heart clutched.
The flashing thought of your skirt swishing freely with no panties to hide his newly found grail. He reminisced on the scent of your pussy, stroked mildly at rutting against you.
You quickly changed into your clothes, wringing out your hair before pulling on your shirt. Reaching under your skirt, you expected to find your panties next to your socks. However, you were met with the granite of the counter.
Glaring into the mirror, you expected to be met with Logan's teasing smirk but he was unmoving in his stall. With a narrowing of your eyes, you grit your teeth and pulled on your skirt then grabbed the rest of your soiled clothes from the floor and left.
You dropped your clothes off in your laundry basket, rushing to grab another pair of underwear. When you opened the drawer, you remembered that they were your last clean pair before having to do the laundry again.
With a gulp, you straightened your skirt out, measuring the length of them before giving up and going out to the yard. You made no sudden springy movements, going to sit at the patio table with Ororo and Xavier while they spectated Scott and Kurt's tennis game.
Logan snapped his head up from focusing on his cock when the door slammed after you. He smirked lowly, flashing the knob to cold then off before going to his pile of clothes and dressing.
You sat back in your patio seat, taking in the sun and scent of manicured grass and bushes surrounding the mansion yard. Your legs were crossed tightly over one another, straightening your skirt out underneath to keep yourself decent for however long you sat around.
"How was sparring?" Xavier asked, following the neon yellow ball back and forth between the two mens' rackets.
You flashed your head up to meet Xavier's squinted glare; your mind scrambled with what to say to explain anything that happened.
"It was eventful," you said, looking over to Ororo and back.
You met Xavier's eyes again, the silence growing before the Professor's eyebrows raised. "I see."
You nervously smiled, straightening up a bit. "I mean, it was only ten minutes. He called my power 'cute'."
Xavier's mouth straightened in a line, nodded once before turning to see Logan walking into the backyard. "I'd never known him to use that word. Logan?"
You glared at Logan, your eyes shadowed by the sunlight. He was dressed in a plaid shirt unbuttoned, a beater and another pair of sweatpants. Your breath caught again, your legs becoming heavy with the threat of uncross.
"What's up?" He asked, standing next to Xavier, resting his hand on the back of the Professor's chair.
"How was training?" Xavier asked, still looking at you.
You straightened up in your seat, now looking to Logan. He tried to maintain a chaste view of you, even with your panties stuffed into his pocket.
It was short-lived, his eyes raking down to your skirt; the way it fell against your thighs and the crease of your legs clamped together.
With a gulp, Logan turned his attention to Xavier: "It was fine."
Xavier's straight mouth returned, offering the man a soft shake of his head.
"Oh, what did you two do?" Ororo asked, pulling her teacup to her lips to hide her smirk.
"Nothing," you, and Logan, added quickly. You turned to Logan then back to Ororo.
"Nothing happened," you repeated to her, sitting upright to rest your arms on the dark wood table.
"You pinned him, I wouldn't say that's nothing," Xavier mentioned, pulling his own teacup up to take a sip.
"You pinned him?" Ororo repeated, turning to Logan as she set down her cup. "She pinned you?"
Logan grit, his mouth forming its own tense line before looking at Xavier. You did the same.
"I-I didn't say anything," you said, trying to explain yourself to Logan.
Logan's shoulders relaxed in a heavy sigh just as Ororo giggled in delight: "You didn't have to."
Raising a brow at Logan, he shook his head and nodded to Xavier. "He reads minds."
You stiffened, your eyes slowly migrating over to Professor Xavier. He smiled, tipping his cup to you.
"Secret's safe with me, my dear."
You deflated, trying your best to hold Xavier's gaze though you wanted to see what Logan was making of it. Opening your mouth to make some sort of explanation, you were interrupted by Rogue calling out to the yard that she was making lunch if anyone wanted a sandwich.
You were unmoved, though Kurt and Scott were quick to leave the tennis court. Ororo stood up, grabbing the teapot in the center table and offered to brew a second pot.
"I'll help you, my dear." Xavier opted, gearing his wheelchair across the patio and through the glass doors before they shut after him.
You were left alone with Logan once again. He was unmoving from across the table, staring over at you while you shut your eyes to keep your breath.
"I bet he saw what we did," Logan said, circling around the table and leaning against it before you. "That's why he left, made Ororo go too."
You opened your eyes to meet Logan's eyes, dark and warm, though his pupils appeared to be pulsing.
"We-I--" you tried to respond though your stomach was knotting nervously.
The heat of the day, combined with the quick recall of Logan rubbing against you, made you clench your legs tighter. It was a fruitless endeavor, Logan could smell your wet as it caught onto your skirt.
He wasn't sure how much further he could be around you without relief. He was throwing caution to the wind, thinking he could withstand another soft breeze in your presence without breaking down to convince you to...
You undid your legs, parting your legs after the strain of keeping chaste. "You like panties, Logan?"
You rested your arms on the chair, righting yourself to allow the breeze to blow teasingly upskirt. Logan turned on his hip to face you, dipping his hand into his pocket to loop a finger around the cotton.
He peeled them out, flashing them over to you. "I call it a consolation prize, for tapping out earlier."
You tempted your tongue between your lips, shifting in your seat to bring back the friction Logan gave you earlier.
"I thought the humping would be enough of a consolation," you said, crossing your ankles together.
Logan showed his grit teeth, his eyes slipping to take in your outfit. "I'd call that an appetizer." He dangled the soft cotton panties from his middle finger, folding it into his hand to rub his thumb against the lining of them.
"I like it fresh," he teased, his brow barely taunting from its resting spot.
You straightened your neck, rolling your shoulders back to push your chest forward. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Logan smiled boyishly, something that you wanted from this specific man since you got here. Your heart fumbled, which Logan heard and it made his mouth water.
"Your pussy, darlin'. My main course."
With the words leaving his mouth, you expected him to burst into laughter. But his maw was left open, adjusting his jaw as you bit back your eager want for him to eat you.
Logan stepped closer, nudging a knee between yours to separate them. "It's been on my mind all morning."
You tried to steady yourself, meeting Logan's eyes again as he loomed over you. There was nothing you felt that you could say to make it better. Your stomach was now melted to nothing, spreading your legs further than Logan silently willed.
Logan mapped out your face, giving no leeway to your want or disgust. You glanced over to the glass doors behind Logan, noticing the curtain furl.
You stood, coming close to Logan to take his musk. Naturally woodsy, his sweat undertoned by a metallic heat that came off of him. Your breath was lost again, glancing to his naked collarbone then his neck and finally him.
"All morning?" You asked in a soft voice.
Logan heard your question clear as day in his ears, focusing all of his starved attention on you. The bait was acting alone now, luring him to a salvation he'd forgotten about.
He lost his words, his nostrils flaring as he gruffed at you. You folded your lips together, staring down at the terracotta patio beneath both of your feet.
You glanced over your shoulder to the corners of the shrub garden then back to him. "Out of sight?"
Logan's face quirked in amusement at your question, his brow tempting to curl. "I'll eat you out on the dining table if you prefer."
Your heart sank down your body just as the invigorating shock shot up your spine. Logan peeked down to see your nipples peaking through your heather blue X shirt, making him wet his bottom lip patiently.
You grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him after you onto the grass then into the flower garden. You were intoxicated in his proximity, lowering down onto the ground for him to make up the distance.
Logan did so, leaning in to fervently kiss your lips. He'd never dreamt of a kiss so hungry, licking into your mouth to scour your taste before pulling away to grip your jaw.
You ground your ass into the tilled dirt, becking after Logan's mouth to chase the instant high rushing through you.
Logan went for broke, touching at your legs and admiring them under his fingertips. He hissed at your neck, his nose wiggling to inhale all you gave off. The supple sweetness of your skin: your lotion barely washed off, your shampoo still fragrant in the nape of your neck, your pussy wet just a cherry on top to the intricate bouquet of you.
He nipped at your skin, licked down and up your neck before finding your kiss again. You panted into his mouth, chasing for more just as he balked and dragged his nose down your chest.
Logan gripped at your breast through your shirt, breathing over the soft peak of your nipple before closing his mouth over it. You bucked, your heels grinding into the dirt while you stifled yourself.
Logan parted from your nipple, turning to swirl his nose around the other before continuing down your body. He licked his lips fully at your skirt, taking the hem of it and slowly peeling it back to reveal your pussy.
For once his imagination matched up, your naked pussy a wet mess. You parted your thighs further to allow Logan a better view and he appreciated it. His cock appreciated it, the inner animal appreciated it.
He stretched his body out in the dirt after you, circling his hands at your hips in admiration. Logan dragged his lips at your thigh, taking grip of it to kiss heartily at your skin.
His lips sectioned on your flesh, nibbling carefully between kisses before turning to your other leg and doing the same. Your legs were already shaking in anticipation, your heels raising out of the dirt.
Logan leveled you back down with a crestfallen glare up your body. He placed a hand at your stomach, giving you the instance to connect.
"Let me..." he began, panting and licking at the inside of your thigh. "At my own pace. Don't rush."
You gripped at his hand, steeling your resolve and nodding carefully at him. Logan smirked, taking his lips to kiss your clit.
You flinched, but didn't buck after him when he retreated. You bit at your bottom lip, staring this man down as he kept your eyes and licked a soft stripe against your pussy.
Your brows knitted together, opening your mouth to groan. Your squeezing hand on his tensed, unsure if you wouldn't last as long as he intended for you.
"Keep it here, beautiful," Logan purred, circling his tongue against your clit. "Focus here."
Your chest felt an internal skip, keeping Logan's eyes as he finally gave in to his want and began work his tongue on and around your pussy before inching a finger into you.
Your eyes crossed, trying to hold on while his thick digit pumped into your walls. You broke, tilting your head away from his gaze to cry out.
"I love that noise," Logan muttered, breaking from your pussy to caress your thigh again.
His finger never stopped, pumping a bit faster to follow the pulsing of your walls. When he pulled it out slightly, he opted a second finger in and watched you break further.
Your walls welcomed him eagerly, writhing softly in the dirt at the feeling. Logan returned to your clit, aiding you and his fingers as they curled and stroked.
"Is that good?" He growled, losing all humanity in his voice as red began to taint his vision.
The vignette circled his eyes, leaving you the sole focus in his mind. You crooned, nodding carelessly as your hand squeezed a bit tighter at his.
Logan continued, grinding his rigid cock into the dirt beneath him. The thought piqued in the back of his mind, straightening a third finger to match his others and working it into you.
You panted out, seating your hips a bit harder in the dirt as Logan pumped three fingers into you with intent.
He smacked his lips, dragging them against your thigh before biting at your skin. You moaned, your thigh twitching in response.
"I gotta work you open," Logan offered, his voice piggybacking on a growl stuck in his throat. "My cock won't in your tight pussy just yet."
Your eyes watered, watching the beast come undone from the man. You nodded in agreement, holding out for Logan to do as told.
Your pussy was throbbing from the attention, your clit hitting the cool air and beckoning you overboard.
"It feel good, sweetheart?" Logan asked, not expecting an answer as he returned to your clit. "You wanna cum on my fingers? The wetter you get, the easier I'll be."
You were breaking now, your hand guiding Logan's up under your shirt to take handful of your breast. He smiled against your pussy, sucking on your clit harder as he worked at your nipple.
You raised your hips slightly, the work of Logan's knuckles sliding through you hard to ignore. Logan slurped, sating the rumble in his stomach with your taste.
"Come on, beautiful, come on. In my mouth, on my fingers," Logan slurred against you, his words vibrating into you.
You tightened your stomach, sitting up to meet his eyes again. Logan stared along the lengthened topography of your body, taking a tender squeeze at your breast just as your other hand went to his hair.
He smirked, raising his nose before nudging down. "I want to watch you cum."
His fingers sped up, his lips suctioned at your clit to drive you to see stars in your vision. You couldn't hold back your noises, moaning lowly down your body as Logan squeezed at your nipple.
"Logan," you gasped, coiling on his actions at once and tightening your fingers in his hair as you came.
Riding into his mouth and fingers, you whimpered at the rolling lush within you, making you floaty while your heart raced.
When you felt you were finished, Logan continued. He drew out a few twitches in your knees, your stomach tightening as you pussy pulsed around Logan's fingers.
Logan licked you clean, making long stripes at your pussy as he slid his fingers out. The long string of your wet followed, his digits coated in your essence.
You whined at his retreat, your body collapsing after the synapses stopped firing. You caught your breath, lolling your head back between your shoulders.
Logan licked heartily at his wet fingers, savoring your mild taste before sitting up on his knees to slide his hand down his pants. He stroked his cock with the remnant of your wet on his hand, only working his rampant urge further.
Pulling his hand out, he glanced over to the glass doors then back down at you. "Let's go upstairs, sweetheart."
You sat up, sighing at the wisps of pleasure that slipped through you. Meeting Logan's eyes, you nodded, your stomach tickled at chasing another high.
Logan refrained from showing surprise on his face, his brows laxing from his eyes before grabbing your wrist and leg, hoisting you over his shoulders.
You squeaked, feeling his arm curl around your leg as you rested on his built shoulders. The dirt on your skirt shed down his body as Logan stood up, making his way across the backyard onto the patio.
He puffed his chest in silent triumph, readily showing his trophy as he opened the back door. When he stepped inside, he noticed Xavier and Ororo sharing tea in the doorway of the dining room.
Logan raised a brow at the two of them, moreso Ororo who'd pulled up a chair next to Xavier's wheelchair.
"Really?" Logan grit as you ducked your head in slight embarrassment.
Xavier was unmoved as Ororo nervously stood and attempted to hide her smile with her teacup.
"I'd predicted this," Xavier said, taking another sip before moving his chair into the dining room. "Ororo, you owe me dinner."
"Professor," Ororo stressed, following Xavier into the room, leaving Logan to glance at you turning bright in embarrassment.
He jostled you tenderly, shaking his head before carrying you upstairs. Logan glanced around the floor then rushed into his room. He carefully tossed you onto his bed, watching you bounce among the stray feathers from his desecrated pillow.
His brows flexed, watching your skirt flow at the same, allowing him another glance at your naked pussy. You settled yourself in the center of the bed, holding your hands out to brace yourself.
Logan stood at the edge of his bed, eyes raking up and down your body, rewarding himself with the presence of you in his bed. Now that you were here, he was unsure where to have you first, if you'd recoil after the first time.
Logan clambered onto his bed over you, his hand haltingly touched up your thigh before pulling your leg to his hip. You touched his cheek, earning his soft snarl before relinquishing. Your fingers slipped further before reaching his hair, combing through it with his short locks curling around your digits.
Logan leaned into your neck, inhaling your scent as his hands kneaded at your bare thighs and up to your ass. He turned you both over, finding his back to the bed.
You adjusted over Logan, resting your knees on the bed to brace his waist and his unyielding, actively throbbing cock. You gasped, looking down at where you sat then to Logan.
He smirked knowingly, barely raising his brows as his eyes did the teasing. "I told you."
Your brows knitted in concern, raising on your knees as Logan curled an arm arounf your waist. With his free hand, he shrugged at a hip of his sweats, his cock barely snaking from its confines before grabbing it alone.
You looked down at his grip on his cock, his fist barely taking half of his length. He was strained with veins, a member stringent and alert with his cockhead red and leaking with precum.
"Oh, oh my god," you breathed, your chest tightening as your pussy pulsed in response.
You braced a hand to Logan's chest, shifting over Logan's cock before raising higher on your knees to point his cockhead to your entrance.
The two of you met eyes, Logan's irises blown to obsidian while he panted. You pouted softly, sinking onto Logan's length. His cockhead popped into you, instantly making you tempt a sated smile.
Logan restrained himself, shutting his eyes to ease out a breath. He'd allow you the lead at first, but was itching to take over.
He'd need to sink his cock deep into you after all, for his own relief. Logan knew that he'd make his knot fit in you, but that was getting ahead of himself.
Your hand gripped at his beater, whimpering as you wiggled your hips to slide Logan further in.
"You're taking me so well," Logan praised, reaching under your skirt to caress your hip.
You felt his thumb on your skin, coaxing you further until you couldn't anymore. Your eyes lulled, fluttering, at reaching an internal pause.
You rolled your hips again, squeaking when you did before attempting to reverse on Logan's length. Logan huffed at the white-hot core of you, enraptured with the roll of your hips at an attempt to go further.
Logan propped himself up on his elbow, his hand on your hip stilling you with a hiss. You moaned, leaning back an inch to lift off of him.
His nostrils flared at your retreat, your pulsing walls slicking his length. You paused halfway, returning your way down on Logan's length again.
His brows shot, his hand tensing to clench your hip but groaned out instead.
"T-too much, I can't," you mewled, bowing forward against his chest.
Logan huffed mirthlessly, slowly righting you on him. "C'mon beautiful, just a little longer like this. Then I'll take over."
Your pout protruded, staring at Logan for him to take over that instant. He stretched his hand over to your mound, finding your clit and stroking it gently.
You hiccuped, losing sight as your eyes fluttered. Your knees tempted to squeeze at his sides, but Logan's other hand held your kneecap.
"Relax, relax," he ordered lowly, his hand snaking up your thigh coaxingly. "Just let...go."
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to do as Logan said but feeling your neck twinge in strain. Logan tilted his head, unable to help himself from taking you in.
"Come here," Logan said, pushing himself further forward for you to meet his lips.
He kissed you, earning a heightened moan from you. Logan's thumb kept stroking your clit, making you slowly melt around his length.
You hummed, twitching at each touch he gave you. His fingers spread against your waist, taking in more of your miniscule movements. Each soft buck your hips did earned his hums of encouragement into your mouth.
When he parted from your lips, you rested your forehead against his. You panted lowly against his lips, your hand going for the back of Logan's neck.
"Are you gonna be a good girl and cum again?" He asked, nudging his nose against yours.
Logan was biding his time, luring you further in before he took hold. His hand at your thigh continued up your side, shrugging your shirt up to reveal your breasts.
You nodded against his forehead, slowly raising up on your knees then back down in a slow rhythm. He sneered, his top lip peeling back to reveal a sharp white canine.
"I'm gonna ruin you," he growled, letting you ride him as he breathed against you and stroked your carnal fire.
Logan's hand cupped under your breast, bucking into you when you sank down on his length. You gasped before Logan's mouth, nodding against his forehead in agreement.
"Yes, ruin me," you hissed, arching into Logan's touch as his thumb stroked your clit and flicked at your nipple in tandem.
And you moaned outwardly, your mouth gaping open as you nudged his nose for his kiss again. You were edging on the precipice of pleasure, clenching around Logan's girth.
Logan seethed, hummed and bided his time. "You're such a beautiful mess right now. Can I get you to cry?"
Your face scrunched, holding out though your eyes threatened. "Fuck, Logan. D-don't."
Logan grinned against your lips, taking your lips in another kiss. At the same time, he pinched tenderly at your nipple, bringing you to arch into him and orgasm on his cock.
"That's...my girl," he purred, circling his hand from your clit to grab your ass. Logan guided you to rock your hips on him, slowly taking more of his length in.
You gasped away from his mouth, feeling his cock push further into you. Logan hummed, running his nose down the length of your throat as he muttered his praises.
He lifted a hip, turning your over in his bed to lie down. Logan lifted your leg, thrusting further into you.
You threw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut to not draw tears. "Logan," you squealed, reaching to grip at Logan's only good pillow.
Logan lowered over you, righting his hips against your before pulling out. He took hold of your shirt, peeling it up over your face before tangling it in your arms.
He went for your skirt, tugging it down your legs as he sat on his haunches. You writhed on Logan's sheets, relishing the remaining euphoria buzzing over your skin.
Logan shrugged off his shirt, peeling up his beater to guide his cock against your swelling lips. You whined as Logan grabbed the back of your thigh and pushed it up to your chest.
"Almost there, sweetheart," Logan soothed, running his hand back down your thigh before resting his hand to your stomach.
Your pout returned, meeting Logan's eyes as he quickly thrust into you. Your hand drifted before Logan's face, allowing it to fall before you desperately grabbed at his beater.
"F-fuck Logan, I-I can't," you broke down, turning your face away from him to bite away your tears.
Logan lowered himself further onto you, your knee bracing further up his torso. "I know you can. You can last a minute longer, I'll make it worth it."
You shook your head against the bed, not meeting his sultry gaze. Logan nosed at your ear, his rolling breaths tempting down your skin.
"Darling," Logan mumbled down at you.
He reached a hand up to your throat, gripping softly at your jaw to turn you to him. Logan rubbed his thumb under your bottom lip before leaning in to kiss you again.
This feeling shot to your toes, your body livening to touch all you could of Logan's. When he broke, he nudged your nose and rocked his hips softly.
"You're still so wet for me," he praised in a whisper before your lips.
Your face scrunched again, not needing of his praise as he paved into you, echoing remnants of pleasure. "D-don't stop."
Logan's eyes rolled in relief, starting a softer pace to sate his feral urge to rut. The animal was sated, driving further into you and pausing for longer as he caressed your cervix.
You writhed underneath him, your knee twitching the longer his thrusts went on. You broke, raising to hide your face in Logan's neck with a few pitiful moans.
Logan was relieved at the wild throbbing of your pussy, the ghost of yet another orgasm ripping through you. He picked up for a moment, grabbing your other leg to draw it up to your chest before thrusting into you with finality.
You winced, feeling all of Logan's length housed inside of you. Your breath skipped as Logan's face scrunched in pleasure, his lips skirting before yours. He groaned out, showing his undoing as his knot slowly swelled just inside of you.
You hummed in slight discomfort, the thought of Logan filling you a distraction from the reality. Logan collapsed over you, dropping your legs and curling his arms around you.
"That's..." he gasped, kissing at your chest then up to your neck, "my girl."
You hid a roll of your eyes, realizing that earlier this same day you two were unknowing of one another. You braced a hand to your damp forehead, combing your hair away as you caught your breath.
"I'm gonna keep you," Logan teased, nudging his nose along your collarbone. "to get you through my days."
You glanced down at him, noting a boyish lightness about him. Your hand went for the back of his neck, curling through his hair again.
You felt the pulse of Logan's cock inside of you, twitching though he was nestled sturdily inside you. With a quirk of a brow, you slipped a hand between the two of you, reaching down to assess the situation.
You gasped at the odd feeling of him plugged inside you. His cock was still a part of him, his balls nestled carefully just against your inside hip. This was definitely new.
"Hey, hey, beautiful I can explain," Logan said, lifting onto his arm to look down at you.
Your bewildered eyes met his and laughed in slight disbelief. He smirked somewhat nervously, taking in your silence with grace.
"I am part animal..." Logan began, though that was all he had as explanation.
Your brows knitted in concern. "What is it?"
Logan shrugged, though he knew what it was. He knew its purpose. He still wanted to introduce you to it.
"It's...a knot. Just a little oddity," he continued, kissing at your cheek to coax you down. "Only shows up when I'm in rut."
You were sure your face was expressing more than you wanted to. Logan wanted to laugh with you, but was waiting until you were actually amused.
"Rut?"
"Just a few days where I have the animal urge to fuck," he muttered, dropping his head to your shoulder at the realization that this was not going how he'd wanted.
Still, you were not as put off as you once thought you'd be. With a soft gulp, your hand in his hair resumed coyly.
"Just a few days?" you asked, ducking your chin to look at Logan.
Logan's smile returned half-watt, sitting up to kiss your lips. "Maybe a few more with you."
You hummed after his kiss, your eyes rolling at the feeling of him and his cock. Logan broke away first, moaning at the loss of your kiss.
"And that little trick of yours, but I'm not picky."
You scoffed, giggling at Logan as you playfully shoved at his shoulder.
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tanadrin · 7 months ago
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could you elaborate, why do you believe that people online continue to talk about the flint water crisis as if it were still active? Is it just ignorance of the solution or are there ongoing health issues?
i mean i think people do that bc "everything is fucked and nothing ever gets better" is a genre of post that tickles the limbic system, and in the attention economy of the internet, anything that tickles the limbic system tends to do well, bc it produces engagement. outrage, and outrage-adjacent things, and cliches like "why is no one talking about [major news article everyone is talking about]" and "don't get excited about apparently-good-thing X, here's why it's actually just as bad as [completely different thing it is in no way just as bad as]" and all that other stuff.
and because negativity and outrage--even negativity with no underlying substance--makes a bigger splash than positive stuff with real underlying substance, continuing to repeat "flint doesn't have clean water" (a crisis that did genuinely drag on for a very long time!) has more salience than the news that flint's water problem was fixed (something that took a long time when it finally was properly tackled and didn't generate a single large headline).
there's kind of a similar dynamic in climate news actually, where genuine improvements in areas like energy storage and clean energy rollout and new nuclear permitting don't make a dent in people's narrative that everything is fucked and we're making no progress because IPCC forecasts about what would happen if we hit 4 degrees of warming are genuinely very bad and scary (and, thankfully, no longer on the table!), whereas the boring policy details of stuff in the Inflation Reduction Act, or China's continuing expansion of EV manufacturing are, well... boring. although climate news is different in other ways--like, the planet will continue to warm until carbon emissions are net negative, so even as we make progress on that issue the crisis continues. it's not all good news. but there is good news there, which just gets much less traction online bc of the dynamics of how news works on the internet.
needless to say, though, i think if you want to have an accurate understanding of the world you need to internally mentally check your own tendency to succumb to engagement bait like this. worst case scenario you fall into a doom loop, which i think is pretty unhealthy just in general. but if you notice somebody post something compelling, and you click on their username, and it turns out that all they post is about how the world is fucked, and nothing good ever happens, and we're all gonna die, i think you should be suspicious of them and their motives. not because doomposting is inherently manipulative or deceptive--a lot of people genuinely are doomers! but that doesn't mean they're not responding to the limbic incentives of social media, either. after all, if you too express nothing but pessimism and outrage, then the people addicted to pessimism and outrage will applaud you for being Very Serious and give you lots of engagement and attention, and you will react accordingly.
and also, you know. some people do just lie on the internet for attention. that is absolutely a thing that happens. i am not inclined to bend over backwards to try to reconstruct a generous framing of those lies where maybe people somehow are under the mistaken impression that there is some ongoing sub-problem affecting flint that they have mistaken for being isomorphic to the original crisis. some of them are just liars!
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purinfelix · 11 months ago
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plsplsplspslpsl write calling bf barca boys (pedri, fermin, joao) + jude bellingham "bro"
"bro"
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featuring: pedri, fermin, joao, gavi (i had to include my bby sorryyy!) and jude warnings: teensy bit cringe at times, be warned ...
a/n: once again apologising for being ia, but an eternal thank you to anon and every one else who's still interacting with me and sending me requests!! trying my best to get through them, thank you all for your patience <333
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You don’t remember how it had happened honestly, the two of you had just been hanging out in his bedroom, a situation you had come to find comfort in since its frequency had become almost like a routine to the two of you. The air outside was cool, giving the two of you an excuse to curl up together under the blanket and binge watch episodes of your favourite show in a comfortable silence. That was, of course, until you heard the chime of your phone - causing you to perk up out of your boyfriends arms.
“Bro, could you get that for me?”
Pedri
Honestly he doesn’t think much of it at first, since your guys’ relationship has always been pretty casual in the way that you both trust each other enough not to overreact. He reckons that it probably slipped out by accident, and given that it’s what most of his teammates and friends call him, he doesn’t react that much. Sure, he noticed it, and filed it away to the back of his mind as a sign that you might be mad with him but he’s a pretty calm boyfriend only offers an amused eyebrow raise.
It’s only when he leans over and grabs your phone do you realise what you’ve said - but only decide to double down on it to get a reaction out of him.
“Thanks bro,” you say as nonchalantly as you can manage when he hands you your phone, immediately going to respond to whatever message had caused the notification sound. And at first it seems like he’s not going to indulge your obvious bait for a reaction - of course until you hear the rustle of bed sheets and his strong arm snake around your waist.
He lets out a soft mumble that roughly translates to - “What is it baby?” - as he buries his face into the crook of your neck in a loving, yet almost pleading manner. It doesn’t take long for you to give in to his charms.
“I’m only messing with you,” you giggle, patting the top of his head reassuringly.
Fermin
If there’s one thing you know about Fermin, it’s that he’s observant. However, another thing about him is that he’s a sly little shit. So whenever he feels he can sense you trying to prod at his temper it only ends in him serving you back your own attitude.
“Of course, bro,” he says, and even though you’re not looking at him as he turns to grab your phone, you can tell he has a wide smirk spread across his face.
You only give him a knowing look, and try your best to maintain your composure while stifling your laughter - but the minute he drops your phone into your hands you know he’s not going to back down on this.
“Thanks, dude,” you quip.
“Any time, my man.”
Silence, and you’re trying to figure out your next comeback while ignoring the weird way him calling you ‘my man’ made you feel. You feel oddly stupid for starting a game you know you couldn’t keep up with, but luckily your boyfriend has already caught wind of this by the look of amusement on his face.
“Something wrong, mate?” he chuckles as he leans over to peck your lips that you hadn’t realised had formed a pout. All you can do is sigh in faux-exhaustion before erupting into a fit of laughter.
Joao
It’s only once he’s reached over to grab your phone, that he clocks the odd new nickname. Immediately, but silently, his mind starts racing through the possible reasons as to why you’ve bestowed it upon him - did he do something wrong? He did only kiss you twice before leaving for training that morning, and he did accidentally move away from you when the two of you were cuddling earlier. He’s worried, but he’s also up to play your game if need be.
His grip on your phone tightens, and you hear his voice low, daring - “What was that darling?”
You truly meant it as an accident this time, and he manages to snap you out of it with his words. “Oh, sorry, babe,” you correct yourself and he nods as if to silently say that’s better.
You get your phone from him, and a quick kiss on the cheek before he settles back to wrapping his arms around you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck so he can look at your phone next to you.
Gavi
Whilst something like being called “bro” might not matter to most other guys, it definitely did to your boyfriend. His reaction to your words was immediate, his head whipping up from where he had been laying beside you, eyes round and pleading.
“What?” his voice was quiet, almost unbelieving and you had to try your best not to laugh at how dramatic your boyfriend’s reaction was. Still, a small chuckle escapes your lips, only making you feel worse as a small pout forms from his lips.
“Sorry, it slipped out,” you reassure him, reaching up a hand to stroke his cheek lovingly. He furrows his brows as if to pose the question - are you sure? But you only take this as a sign to mess with him, just a little more.
“What, you don’t like me calling you bro?” You’ve completely forgotten about your phone at this point.
“No, definitely not.” He’s oddly serious when he says this, but this only adds to how amused you are by this situation.
“Alright baby,” you hum out your apology, trying your best to further express this through your thumb on his cheek - and luckily he seems to get the message. Before you know it, he’s melted back into your arms, your fingers curling lazily around his hair.
Jude
“What?”
Jude is quick with it, turning to you immediately as soon as the word leaves your mouth with an expression that makes you realise your mistake all too quickly.
“Bro?” he asks again, almost daring you to repeat it, but the shocked laugh he lets out reassures you he isn’t taking it to seriously - only getting an unfair amount of amusement from your mistake.
“Whatever, babe, there,” you say in mock-annoyance, not wanting to let him get the better of you.
“Nuh-uh, you called me bro,” he pushed, leaning in close to you, his voice teasing.
“It was an accident, okay?”
“Sure,” he hums, finally grabbing your phone and handing it to you, all the while having a stupid smirk on his face, “I’ll just have to start calling you mate or something, yeah?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you mutter through pouted lips and he finally gives up the act, settling back by your side and pecking your cheek as an apology.
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zriasstuff · 1 year ago
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Underwater fun—Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+, public teasing, fingering (fem receiving)
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“What do you think you’re doing”, you whisper to Mattheo while both of you are standing in the black lake, seemingly just chatting in the water. The cold water went all the way up to your collarbones, so much that you could still stand, but not very securely. It made you feel a little wobbly on your feet.
You had asked Mattheo that question because you felt his knee creeping up higher, almost touching your lower private area now. His leg fit perfectly between both of yours.
“Matty, whatever it is that you got planned-”
“Just enjoy the water, won’t you”, he responds teasingly, interrupting you mid sentence.
His smirk indicated to you that you were about to enjoy a lot more than just the apparent water. You gradually realized that he had envisioned something very risky in his mind.
Mattheo’s knee between your legs was now placed so perfectly, that whenever you even moved in the slightest, your cunt would automatically rub against it. He even held you tightly by your waist, so that you couldn’t get away from him.
It was surely his intention, for you to get loose, to get you all riled up. Aware of the rather public situation, you spin around to make sure no one was watching.
“Don’t be shy darling, no one is watching”, he baits you once again, not even hiding his desire for you to get off on him. When you wouldn’t indulge, he props his knee even further up, making it directly touch your cunt.
Without it being your intention, one shift of your position suddenly made you feel a wave of brain melting pleasure. The strong pressure on your clit started to feel a little too good. It felt nasty to practically grind against his hard knee, like some touch starved, pathetic slut.
But the more you rubbed against him, the needier you got, feeling yourself get wetter in the process.
“Enjoy yourself princess?”, he cockily asks. He knows exactly that within seconds you’d be begging for him to make you cum.
Mattheo had always had this persuasive aura around him. Whatever he set his mind to, he would achieve. Of course he knew your limits, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t push them a little for fun.
“Please Mattheo, want more”, you moan quietly, while desperately aching for more friction to please your throbbing cunt. You never imagined it’d feel so good to grind on his knee, so good that it turned your cunt into such a wet mess.
He somehow always managed to get you craving his touch, whether it was his cock, fingers, or even knee now.
“Well, since you asked so nicely”, he granted you your wish, and within seconds his knee was replaced by his hand. Wasting no time, he smoothly slid two fingers inside you. Your soaking wetness had allowed him easy and quick penetration, and he felt your cunt sucking him in with its tightness.
“Look how wet my princess is”, he coos, “I told you you’d have fun”. That cocky look on his face was provoking all the more impure thoughts. You imagined what it would be like if there were no people around. How he could then fuck you in the water, have you get high on his cock. You wish everyone would just magically disappear.
The way his fingers stretched your aching cunt wide open almost made you reach your climax right then right there. They kept exploring your walls from every possible angle, brushing against every spot. His thumb additionally circled your clit to create even more simulation, so much you couldn’t hold in the sinful moans that escaped your mouth anymore.
You’d gotten used to how good Mattheo was with his fingers ever since you started dating, but this time, the possibility of being caught made it all so much more exciting. That meant you’d really have to try to not draw everyone’s attention on your public sexual cadaver.
“Can’t even keep your mouth shut anymore huh”, Mattheo points out. You bit down hard on your lip and tried to keep a neutral face to not raise any suspicions.
Knowing that he had such a delicious effect on you, he tried all the more to get you cracking and get caught. It didn’t matter because everyone could then see that you were his, and that only he could get you all riled up like this in the water.
His finger thrusts were becoming quicker and viciously hit your sensitive spot, causing you to struggle to keep still in the water. Your legs were squirming around and firmly clinging onto his leg, and your nails kept digging into his torso. All so you wouldn’t lose balance.
“Plea- Please, go slower”, you whine, not sure how much more of this you’d be able to take without exposing yourself.
“What was that, you want it faster?” Mattheo got extremely turned on watching you barely being able to keep it together. He was this close to pushing you over the edge right now. His fingers continued going in and out of you at an ungodly speed, solely focused on your pleasure. Meanwhile his cock was begging for some friction too, the bulge becoming clearly visible through his swimming shorts.
At that point, the rough fingering was becoming too much, and you felt your rushed climax approaching. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum”, you whimper.
But all of a sudden he pulls his fingers out. The sensation was gone. While he was licking his fingers clean with a smirk plastered on his face, you were desperately clenching around nothing anymore. “Mattheo, please make me finish”, you impatiently beg him. He couldn’t just leave you hanging like this, after all he’d started it.
There was nothing more that you wanted right now, than to have him stroke your sweet spot repeatedly, to have his fingers torturing you into orgasm after orgasm. It didn’t matter anymore that you were in public, all you wanted was him.
“Sorry darling, party’s over”, and with that you saw everyone leaving the lake to get dressed and go back to your dorms. Awfully convenient you thought.
Seeing from Mattheo’s devious expression, you realized his goal was to leave you feeling unsatisfied all along, so you would be even hornier later on.
And just like he predicted, his mischievous plan succeeded. At least you were sure that he was going to make it up to you back in his dorm.
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obscurevideogames · 2 years ago
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Tumblr’s Core Prodct Stratgy
Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on trying to keep our sinking ship afloat for as long as possible. This means desperately trying to copy every new fly-by-night social media app that some multi-billionaire sh*t out during their daily Peloton routine. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. If you find the things we say here worrisome, please understand that is our exact intention. You've outgrown our target demographic. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.
The Diagnosis
It's lookin' pretty bad y'all!
After somehow losing hundreds of thousands of users during the great pr0n purge of 2018, we started to wonder if anything could be done to get back to where we were. We even brought in a management consultant who charged us a ridiculous amount of money. It would make you sick if you knew how much, but we got a few nice meals out of it at least. Anyhow, we handed this guy the app, and HE HAD NO IDEA HOW TO USE IT! It was f*cking hilarious! But suddenly it all clicked -- our users are a bunch of stupid idiots who can't even do basic arithmetic. I mean, they spend all day looking at their phones, so what do you expect?
Tumblr’s best feature is its unique content and vibrant communities. But who cares, right? We're just as happy getting traffic from people sh*t-posting memes, vague-booking, giving out-of-context hot takes to news events, and spewing whatever random thought is in their head at the moment. Plus that stuff doesn't p*ss off Apple.
To keep this thing going we need new people. And by "people" we mean teenagers, like we used to have back in the good ol' days. Unfortunately we're all in our 40s now, so we have no idea what they want. But teenagers are so cool! Imagine if they talked to us like we're one of them? We're getting hard just thinking about it.
Our Guidng Principls
To make Tumblr cool again, we must address these huge glaring issues.
People can look at a blog without logging in. How is that fair to all the poor schlubs who had to fill out forms to get an account? Also we haven't figured out a way to force ads onto the personalized pages yet. But we swear that's not the main reason.
People can see content they are looking for or linked to. People can keep up with blogs they follow. But the problem with this is, people don't know what they want. We know what they want! We're smart. We wrote this damn site, remember?
Promote posts that incite pointless conversations. Posts that are guaranteed to bait every troll into responding. Isn't that why all your Magat relatives love Facebook so much? We can do that!
P*ss off your content creators in every way possible (see #2).
Create algorithms that throw an unending barrage of irrelevant content in your face. Have you seen Instagram lately? We could do that so easy!!!
The app is slow. The website is slow. Obviously this is because of GIFs. Facebook and Instagram don't allow them, so why should we?
Conclusion
Our mission changes on a day-to-day basis. Right now we're super jealous of all the attention that new Threads thing is getting. We're still not sure what it is, but we're gonna download it after work.
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runnning-outof-time · 7 months ago
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Talk of the Town | Tommy Shelby x Reader
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Request: yes by @red-riding-wood
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Summary: (Y/N)'s had enough of the whispering that always seems to happen when she's out and around Small Heath.
Warnings: language
Word Count: 2694
A/N: I’m back!! I’m sorry it took so long for me to share this, and I hope it won’t be so long before I’m sharing another story. The two prompts I was given to use are bolded in the fic - I hope you don’t mind how I used them. Enjoy! :)
PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! — YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!
Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!
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(Y/N) sat down at one of the empty tables, excited to try one of the new menu items at her favorite café. It had been a while since she indulged herself in one of these sorts of treats, so she was more than ready to dig in.
Her peaceful reverie didn't last long. She was only minutes into her lunch when she began to hear whispers from the table of women to her right.
"I think that's her," one of them whispered. "That's Tommy Shelby's girl."
"Are you sure?" another asked, pulling a face as she glanced in (Y/N)'s direction, "she looks too...good."
"Yeah, I'm sure," the first responded, "I've seen her out with him."
"I wonder if she knows about the things he's involved in?" the third woman entered the conversation, pondering aloud to her friend.
"She has to," the first responded.
"I'm not too sure," the second said, "I'm not sure I'd be able to show my face like this if I was going home to a man like that," she reasoned.
"Hmm, I'm not sure I'd mind going home to him though," the first woman commented, a grin forming on her face as she leaned closer to her friends, who were also grinning.
(Y/N) almost lost her appetite when she heard the direction their conversation was heading in. She couldn't believe that they were speaking so candidly about her and her partner's relationship...and that they were doing so while sitting so close to her. They had to know that she was able to hear them.
"I'm going to ask her what it's like to share a bed with a gangster," the third woman announced, ready to get the answers straight from the topic’s mouth.
"No! You can't just walk over to her and ask that!" the first woman hissed, her eyes widening as she reached out to grab her friend's arm before she could leave the table.
That was when (Y/N) focused her eyes back on the plate in front of her. She waited on baited breath and silently hoped that the first friend would get the third to sit down. Thankfully the former's attempts to stop the latter worked, and the women decided to switch topics after that.
She thought that that would have been the last she heard from those women, but nothing could have prepared her for the fact that one of them - the third one that was hoping to speak to her earlier - decided to stop her as she was discarding her trash.
"You're with Tommy Shelby, right?" the voice came from behind, making (Y/N) quickly turn.
"I am," she answered, a bit of surprise laced into her voice.
"How do you do it?" the woman asked.
"What do you mean?" (Y/N) was now confused.
"How do you live with the fact that he's taking directly from the pockets of the poor and doesn't think twice about hurting anyone who stands in his way?" the woman didn't even think about what would be considered proper, and that truly shocked (Y/N).
Had she really said that to a complete stranger? And why was she saying such things about her partner?
It took her a moment to collect her thoughts. She blinked several times before responding, "I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you're talking about. Tommy's family doesn't run their business like that."
There was a moment of pause between the two as the other woman looked at (Y/N) kind of like she was waiting for her to say that she was joking and that she knew exactly why the Shelby family operated the way they did. But (Y/N)'s expression of confusion didn't change.
"You really...you really don't know how he handles business?" there was now surprise in the other woman's voice.
"I don't understand what you're saying, I've just told you that's not how they handle things," (Y/N) doubled down on her previous response.
"He must keep you locked away from certain parts of his life then," the woman stated, stifling her laughter. "Tommy Shelby's a full out gangster, darling."
A bit of incredulousness seeped into (Y/N)'s expression upon hearing the woman's statement. "I'm quite honestly insulted that you would speak of another woman's partner like that. Have you no manners?" she asked with a scoff.
"It's the truth. Everyone around town knows it," the other woman shrugged.
"It's still rude to suggest," (Y/N) responded, pursing her lips together tightly as she tried to keep composed. "Good day," she said then, tilting her chin up as she walked away from the woman without letting her get another word in.
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No matter how hard she tried, the words of the woman at the café wouldn't leave (Y/N)'s mind. By the time she reached the home she lived on on Watery Lane, her frustration was just about to the point of boiling over. She didn't even care that she had slammed the door to the home shut.
"Goodness. Hello, (Y/N)," Polly's surprised, but still steady, voice made (Y/N) realize that she hadn't shut the door to an empty home.
"Hi, Pol," the younger woman was terse with her greeting.
Polly was able to feel the frustration as it was practically radiating off of (Y/N). She watched the younger woman carefully as she stood stiff in her spot, balling her fists and opening them in hopes that it would help regulate the emotions she was feeling.
"Well..." the older woman paused, letting out a sigh before continuing, "what is wrong with you?" she asked. She didn't say it in any demeaning sort of way, even though it may have sounded like such. If anything, she was concerned...(Y/N) rarely got flustered like this, so it wasn't hard to pick up that something had bothered her.
"I'm sick and tired of people treating me like I am some sort of animal stuck in captivity! Everywhere I go all I hear is whispers, and sometimes they lead to questions that make me look like a fool when I answer them, and I'm not sure how much more of it I can take!" (Y/N) didn't hold back from expressing what was frustrating her.
Polly pursed her lips. She gave the younger woman a once over, seeing how she was practically shaking with aggravation. She was just about to speak when (Y/N) exited the room.
The silence didn't persist for long though. The younger woman’s exit was followed by a sound of slight struggle and then a crash, which prompted a string of curse words. Polly stayed in her seat, knowing that her assistance wasn't something she would want in this situation.
The door opened again moments later, and this time Tommy walked through it. He immediately picked up on the expression Polly was wearing as well as the leftover tension in the room.
"What?" he asked his aunt, his eyebrows raising in question.
"(Y/N)'s in the kitchen," the older woman responded, pursing her lips after she spoke.
Tommy turned his head to the left slightly and kept his raised brow expression as if to say 'and?'.
Polly also responded nonverbally, widening her eyes and nodding her head in the direction of the kitchen, her way of saying 'see for yourself'.
Tommy sighed, removing his peaked cap and shoving it into one of his suit jacket pockets as he began walking towards the kitchen. It's always fucking something, went through his mind as he crossed the room's threshold. That thought immediately vanished when he saw the woman he was proud to call 'his' on the ground cleaning up a mess of cooking utensils. "What happened, love?" he asked her, his voice making her eyes snap from the floor to look in his direction. It didn't take long for him to see the puffiness surrounding them; she'd been crying.
"I just wanted to fix myself something to eat and when I went to open the drawer to grab a spoon it got stuck, because they're all stuffed into the same bloody drawer even though there are other places for them, and so I pulled on it and the drawer came out," she answered in a rambling mess, her frustration shining through in her words. She then bit on her bottom lip as it began to tremble, the earlier conversation flooding back in her mind as the topic of it was now standing in front of her. Tears began to brim in her eyes and she quickly looked away so Tommy wouldn't catch them.
But, of course, he did. "They're just utensils in a drawer, love. It's no harm done," he tried to tell her that it wasn't something worth crying over.
(Y/N) let out a choked laugh, shaking her head as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "It's not the utensils, Tommy," she said, continuing to shake her head as she spoke.
"Then what is it?" he asked with furrowed eyebrows.
There was a pause. (Y/N) was unsure if she should bring what happened earlier up, or if she should let it rest. She was no longer angry, just upset that people - whom she'd never met - thought they had her and Tommy's relationship figured out. "I'm tired of defending myself," she sighed, deciding to go right to the heart of it all instead of beating around the bush.
Tommy was still confused. He was still stuck on the broken drawer and mess of utensils to understand why she'd respond that way.
(Y/N) was able to see that. With another sigh, she stood up and closed the distance between them. "There's so many people whispering...about you and I, and about the things that you do. I try my best to ignore them, but today a woman came up to me and asked directly how I could live with what you do. I felt like such a fool being placed in that position because it seems that people have a different opinion on your business than I. I'm just...I'm tired of being the talk of the town."
Tommy listened intently as (Y/N) shared her frustrations with him. He could hear how much these comments had been eating her up inside, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel an anger brewing towards these people. How could they choose the times when he wasn't around to get to the person that meant most to him?
"What type of business are you running?" (Y/N) asked after the silence had prevailed for a few moments.
It was a question that made Tommy clench his jaw and avert his eyes to the floor. He didn't quite know what to feel now. He wasn't angry at the fact that (Y/N) had essentially found out about what was actually happening outside of the betting shop floor…he wasn’t exactly hiding it from her. He was angry at the fact that it was people around town who told her about it. It was always his hope that he could keep her out of that side of things. She didn't need that darkness dimming her light.
"Tommy?" she softly prodded him, hoping for an answer.
"I do what I need to do to get things done, (Y/N)," he finally answered her, his voice flat.
His response didn't give much up front, but she was able to read between the lines of it. She exhaled a breath as his eyes met hers once more. "What happened to being honest with the business?"
"When has bein' honest gotten us anything, eh?" he asked her, his one eyebrow quirked in an inquisitorial manner.
(Y/N) sighed, unable to stop the corner of her lips from raising as she looked away for a moment and exhaled a laugh. She let out a sigh then, bringing her hand up to run it across her face. She truly didn't know what to think now.
"Are you upset?" Tommy's question broke the silence this time.
"Yes..." she paused, looking at him again, "but not at you," she made sure to clarify.
Tommy pulled a face in response to her statement, one that asked for her to continue.
"I'm upset that people feel the need to comment on my relationship with you, and that they..." she paused, dropping eye contact as she turned away from him, not wanting him to see how their words still affected her. She took a deep breath before continuing, "that they see me as too much of a fool to be with you."
She couldn't help but laugh at herself as she finished her statement. Maybe you are a fool because you don't know what he really does, she thought to herself. She thought she’d know everything about someone she’d been with for just about six years now. Hell she helped Polly keep the betting shop afloat while the boys were off fighting in France. She knew how things worked in the business. But these whispers started sometime after they returned. With the start of 1919 came (Y/N)'s wondering of why so many people were suddenly interested in the life of Tommy Shelby.
"Hey," Tommy stepped towards her, reaching out and taking hold of her left arm so that he could gently turn her back to face him. Doing so effectively brought her out of her thoughts and made her focus on him again. "Fuck what they have to say," he told her, a devilish grin forming on his lips as he attempted to lighten the mood.
(Y/N)'s eyes widened upon hearing his statement, and she brought her hands up to softly smack his shoulders. "Tommy!" she gasped, her mouth still gaped slightly in surprise. Could that really be his response?, she questioned herself before voicing her disbelief, "I can't believe that's your response," she said while laughing slightly.
"What they say doesn't matter, love," he told her, snaking his arms around her waist so that he could pull her closer to him.
"But still..."
"But nothing," he cut her off, his eyebrows raised. (Y/N) sighed and let her hands rest on his shoulders. The feeling of his suit jacket's material beneath her fingertips made her relax. Tommy truly felt like home to her. Just being in his arms for these mere seconds was making her feel better. "You and me...we're ok, right?" he asked her then, his voice soft as he waited intently for her answer. She was able to feel his gaze on her, but she kept her eyes fixed on his collar, her fingers running against the lapels of his jacket. "Right?" he asked again when he didn't receive a response, pressing his fingers against her sides as he pulled her slightly closer to him.
His actions made her let out a surprised giggle as their heads touched, and it also made her look at him once more. "We're ok," she affirmed, a smile now present on her lips as she continued playing with his lapels, "I just want you to stay safe."
"Always," he whispered, a smile playing on his lips as he assured her.
"And you'll let me in?" her voice was softer now as she looked at him through her eyelashes.
"I will," he whispered, his eyes flitting down to her lips.
"Good, because I need to have something to tell the women who just can't keep their thoughts to themselves," she stated, placing her hands on his cheeks so that she could raise his eyes to meet hers again. She knew what he was thinking of doing.
"(Y/N), fuck..."
"What they say, I know," she finished his sentence for him, smiling as he exhaled a laugh, "maybe..." she trailed off, a bit of a mischievous smile playing on her lips, "maybe I'll just tell them how good this is..."
"What's that?" was all Tommy was able to get out before (Y/N) closed the space and pressed her lips to his.
And if she did tell the whisperers about that, she'd indeed have them wondering.
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MASTERLIST
Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21
@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited
@peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss
@alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl
@emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife
@anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08
@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter
@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable
@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo
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messylustt · 2 years ago
Text
obsessed ( simon says… ) — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : scream maybe you shouldn’t have picked up that call, or chose to play that game. but there’s no backing out now, even if ethan’s requests…escalate.
contents : knife play. making out (ofc). dub con. sexual ‘simon says’ game. possessive ethan. wc 3.2k.
pt one pt two pt three
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“simon says…touch your knees.” ghostface—ethan—says through the phone.
you scoff, bending slightly down to touch your knee. “both of them. put me on speaker.”
you do as he says, resting your phone on the kitchen bench. to a neighbour you probably looked stupid, touching your knees in your kitchen.
“how many rounds?” you ask, awaiting his next request.
“until i get bored.” ghostface answers, as you clench your teeth. “simon says, take off your jacket.”
you remove your jacket, resting it beside your phone, as you lean against the counter. “i’m going to easily win this, ethan.”
“i wouldn’t be so sure.” he chuckles. “simon says, tie your hair up—in a ponytail.”
you shake your head in confusion, but do so, wrapping your hair tie around your hair. “you're gonna get bored easily.”
“will i?” he probes. “simon says, turn off the lights.”
you narrow your eyes.
“chickening out?”
you scoff, turning to the large light-switch, flicking down. you get enveloped in darkness, with the exception of the moon shining outside. “good.” Ghostface speaks as you walk back to your phone.
“simon says, grab a knife.”
you halt. “what?”
“simon says. grab. a. knife” ghostface repeats. you gulp. ethan said he didn’t want to kill you. god, he wasn’t gonna make you kill yourself…was he? you wouldn’t do it, obviously. but still, it’s hard to think of Ethan as someone so sadistic.
you walk to your knife block, picking out a reasonably large one. you spare a chuckle. “are we going to spar?”
“i’m not in your apartment.” he responds. “yet.”
you suck in a breath. “alright, next request.” you're feeling stupidly assured. and you’ll soon realise how stupid your assurance is.
“simon says, go to your room.”
you grab your phone as you make your way through your dark house. “you’re not in there…are you?”
“wow, you really don’t listen to a word i say.” ghostface says, as you reach your doorway, you reach to flick the light switch when he stops you. “keep it off.”
it’s probably better this way. easier to imagine that this isn’t happening at all. you walk further in. “shut the door.”
you continue, ignoring his request. “simon says, shut the door.” ghostface reiterates impatiently. you hold back a smirk as you rere back to shut your bedroom door.
“this is a game, ethan. not just you ordering me around.”
“mm,” ghostface hums slowly. “simon says,” he bites out. “sit on your bed, facing the door.”
you hold down your questions of confusion, as you slowly take a seat, rubbing your hands down your jeans, as you keep the knife placed beside you. “ethan, what's the point of this—”
“feel free to back out. but that means you don’t win.” you knew he was baiting you, manipulating you, but you needed to win. you sit straighter, trying to appear more confident. you had to have the group's own knowledge of ethan, before he hurt any of them.
“next request.”
ethan is smirking on the other line, excited for what was to come next. you were just so committed to helping your friends, such an admirable quality. but how far would you go for them?
“simon says…take off your shirt.”
there's a moment of silence as a thought you stupidly hadn’t thought of hits you. it was idiotic to think ethan wouldn’t use this game to his advantage. he had kissed you—three times now. you take a breath, before lifting the hem of your loose top. you hear a small, almost inaudible intake of breath on the other line. you're still in your bra, of course. it’s like you're wearing a bikini top…just more lacy, you think to yourself.
“alright—”
“take off your bra.” ghostface—ethan—cuts in.
you tilt your head. “what was that?”
you can hear him growl in irritation. “simon says; take off your bra.”
“i feel like there should be a request limit. you could carry this on forever. it's a little unfair.” you tease the clip of your bra, popping it, but keeping the cups to your chest.
you hear ethan scoff on the other line. “fine. i get 20.”
“20?” you raise a brow. “i’d say more like 7. you’ve already used a few.”
“jeezus christ.” ghostface groans. then it hits you. why was ethan so eager for you to remove your bra? he can’t…see you. you gaze around your room, looking for security cameras. you stop on one directly above your bedroom door. you narrow your eyes at it, and you catch ethan chuckling.
“yes, i can see you, y/n.”
you straighten, cursing yourself for not seeing the obvious. of course he was watching you.
“i’ll settle for 15.” ghostface says. you look away from the camera, mulling it over. “fine, 15 requests, but you’ve already used some.” you hum, counting in your head. “about 9. you have 6 left.”
ethan clenches his jaw in slight annoyance but answers anyway. “fine, 6.”
you feel satisfied, confidence filling you again. you can get through 6. “you haven’t completed my 9th request.” ghostface says, making you glance down at your still covered chest. you harshly breath, cursing under your breath, and ignoring the way your lower stomach heats up.
you slowly drop your bra, trying not to curl into yourself. “your 10th?” you quickly ask.
there's a moment of silence on ethan’s end, as you assume he’s just watching you. “ethan?”
“so impatient.” ghostface breathes. “simon says…touch you breasts—play with your nipples.”
“i feel like that could be two requests.”
“no it fucking isn’t— touch yourself.” the impatience in his dark voice has you reaching for your breasts. you ignored the pull of your morals, telling you how wrong this was. this was to help your friends.
you squeeze your breasts, the cold air having made your nipples turn hard. you brush your thumbs over your peaks, trying to swallow the shudder. you can hear heavy breathing on the other line, as you pinched your nipples, rolling them between your fingers. pleasure shocks shoot through you, but you do your best to ignore the want to relax onto your bed. you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction, or that view. though you're sure the view is nice enough as is.
you then lower your hands, away from your tits, and hear him groan. “11th?” you breathe, trying to hide your growing breathy tone. christ. the heat had spread through you, pooling down into your panties. you gulp.
ethan’s breath’s are heavy on the other line as excitement courses through him. “widen your legs, touch yourself inside your jeans.” then he quickly corrects himself, gulping. “simon says…do that.”
you hold back a scoff, as you drag your hand down to the zipper of your jeans. “slowly.” ghostface warns.
you slow your movements, unbuttoning and pulling the zipper down. you widen your legs, as you support yourself back with one of your hands, the other sinking into your panties. “simon says—tell me how wet you are…and why.”
you suck in a breath. this was the last thing you wanted to reveal to him. “be honest.” you can hear ghostface—ethan—shift over the phone. his tone is still modulated but way more breathy. you gulp down your pride and speak.
“i’m s-soaking.” your finger grazes across your clit.
“through your panties?”
you nod in response and ethan growls. “why?”
you had to say it. “because of…” you gulp. “because of you.” you're rubbing your clit now, as your pleasure begins to override your pride and morals.
you hear a breathy choke followed by a gulp. “what about me?”
“that's— more than your request.”
ethan has to hold back from marching into your apartment, grabbing your throat, and finishing you off himself. orgasm wise, not death. soon; he thinks to himself as he palms his dick through his jeans.
“simon says, finger yourself. insert two pretty fingers.”
your pussy is weeping and you're scolding yourself for it. you shouldn’t be turned on by a fucked up version of a children’s game, especially when its controlled by a killer. this situation was a mess, and you hated that you were soon becoming one too.
you pass your clit to insert two fingers, making your hips shudder against your duvet. you bite your lip to hold back moans, as you begin to finger yourself, your legs spreading wider for better access.
“fuck,” ghostface whimpers, as your head lolls back a second before you try to recompose yourself. “s-simon says, taste yourself.”
you hold back a whine as you remove your fingers, your body feeling empty. you raise your hand, to see your two fingers glistening in your arousal. “lick them.” he demands. you raise your fingers to your mouth and wrap your lips around them, by your knuckle. you suck and use your tongue to remove your wetness.
ethan is falling apart on his end of the line, as he watches your eyes slightly roll. you're trying to stay as composed as you can be, and watching you slowly crack has made ethan’s dick needy.
“last re-request.” you stutter out, as you remove your wet fingers.
there’s a pause, the air feeling incredibly tense.
then… “simon says…open the door.”
you freeze, staring at the wood, closed and now eerie. shit. ethan was right outside… wasn’t he? you had thought about him coming to your apartment after…all that. but that doesn’t mean you're anymore prepared.
you look at your phone to see that he’s hung up. you stand, looking at the knife. you grab it, taking a breath, and ignoring the pressure of an unfinished orgasm between your legs. you hesitate, all the possible; good and bad; swirling around in your head.
then it’s immediate…
ethan is opening the door, grabbing your jaw and wrists, pushing the knife away from him while also pulling you towards him. you stumble, your naked breasts hitting his clothed chest. you hiss as your nipples graze against the material. ethan is holding your cheeks between his fingers as he shuts the door behind him with his foot. he’s holding your wrist with the knife in your hand out to the side, his grip strong and unwavering.
“don’t tell me you were about to stab me?” ethan mocks, tilting your chin higher up to meet his gaze.
the moonlit atmosphere is making him look almost ethereal, if it weren’t for the crazed look in his eyes. he pushes you closer to your bed, making the back of your legs hit against it. he presses himself into you, as he gets the knife out of your grip.
“why did you ask me to get a knife if you didn’t expect me to use it?” you ask, as ethan stares down at your tits. he shoves you onto the bed, before hovering over your body.
“when i asked you to grab a knife i didn’t have harm in mind.” ethan hums as he brushes the flat side of the knife across your cheek, the cool metal making your shiver. he then leans closer, shifting the knife to reach one of your breasts. you stiffen. you should feel scared and you do, but not as much as you should. another feeling is creeping up on you fast, the burn between your legs still extremely prominent.
“e-ethan” you gulp as you feel the cool metal brush across your nipple. you unintentionally arch as a whimper leaves your mouth. ethan grins as he breathes across your lips.
“you don’t know how hard it was to stay put as I watched you touch yourself.” ethan darts his tongue out to lick your bottom lip as you whimper against the playing knife. “i wanted my hands to be feeling you, licking your taste of my own fingers.”
you shudder, as ethan moves down to wrap his mouth around your free nipple. the contrasting temperatures make your eyes roll.
“you looked so edible doing what you were told.”
“i-it was a game.”
“that you played very well.” he praised, as he licked your nipple. you jolt, your back arching off the bed.
“i thought you’d be more difficult, since you never seem to listen to me.” ethan speaks to your skin. “but look how obedient you are right now.”
“i’m not, your just— oh.” you moan ethan bites your nipple. pain an pleasure shoot through you.
“i’m sorry i didn’t quite catch that.”
“you mother—” you cut yourself off as the knife grazes your throat. still in use of the flat side, but the sharp edge is still seen as a threat to you. you gulp, as ethan notices your nearly fearful eyes.
he reaches your face again, looking down at you as he brings the knife away. his elbows are by your head as he cages you in. your breathing is rapid, and your body is on fire.
“your scared of me?”
“no I’m not.”
“just a little bit.” ethan says softly. He then kisses your lips, a gentle brush, making your head spin. “i’d never hurt you. you know that right?”
you focus on ethan’s eyes as he watches you. he then leans down to your ear, his hand reaching down to the top of your jeans. “i only want you to be writhing in pleasure, y/n.”
ethan then pulls down your jeans. over much better morals you slightly raise your hips. ethan smiles, as he tosses your pants to the side. he’s now kneeled on the bed. your legs between his open ones. he’s looking down at you with a tilt to his head. then he brings the knife into your vision.
you gulp as the metal lowers to your pussy. but ethan only cuts the material if your panties, pulling them away to leave you bare.
ethan then pulls his top over his head. you hadn’t expected Ethan to look so… you hope your not fucking drooling. ethan grins down at you as he unbuckles his belt.
you shudder as it makes a snap at how fast he removed it. he then unbuttons his jeans, but stops to move his legs. he now sits, both feet on the floor as he ushers you over by a head tilt.
ethan grabs your hair, and that’s when you remember you tied it up. ethan asked you to tie it up.
he pulls you to the floor as you fall to your knees. “fuck.” ethan breathes as you look up at him.
“you were prepared.” you say, talking about your hairstyle.
ethan smirks. “i’m always prepared. though, the bigger question, is are you?”
ethan pulls his cock out of his pants, as it stands tall and proud. you gulp, wide eyes staring. ethan’s hand tightens around your ponytail at your expression. “you don’t know how long I wanted you like this.” he hisses out. then he brings you closer, your mouth millimetres from where he needs.
your breath hits the tip of his cock, as his breathing shudders. “christ.” he moans as you finally wrap your lips around him. so delicate at first, just kitten licking the pre-cum off. ethan’s hips buck up desperately. And you finally sink down onto him. your cheeks hollowing out.
“oh— fuck.” ethan moans as you begin to bob your head up and down. ethan’s hold around your ponytail tightens and loosens depending on the pleasure that wracks through his body.
“god, look at you. drooling all over my c-cock. Shit.” ethan gulps. “you look so fucking pretty, so pretty.” he whines out as your pace picks up.
you then deep throat him, gagging around his head. ethan’s mouth hangs open in pleasure as sweat glistens his forehead. “how are you— fuck— how are you so good at this?” ethan musters, through his pathetic moans.
then a blinding pleasure shoots through him, as he thrusts his hips into you.
breathing hard you lean back, swallowing and wiping your bottom lip. ethan feels dazed as he stares at you. shit, he’d never orgasmed so hard.
he reaches forward to wipe away a spot you missed. you then grab his finger with your teeth, sucking his cum off. “y/n—“ ethan chokes out.
ethan then swiftly grabs your chin, pulling you up to stand as he swings you back onto the bed, underneath him. he crawls atop of you, his pants now gone, as he rips a condom packet between his teeth. rolling it onto his dick, he grabs your thighs, pulling you closer.
he’s directly in front of your lips when he speaks. “where did you learn that?”
you gulp. “you’re a little too good with your mouth.” ethan speaks, each letter hitting your lips. “can you show me again—what you did with you tongue?”
ethan then pushes the tip of his cock into you. you gasp as you grip his shoulders. “h-how?”
ethan leans closer to your mouth. “imagine my tongue is my dick, and show me.” he whispers the last words before he kisses you.
you were rather experienced with giving him head. how many other guys have felt what he felt? he kisses you harder, pushing himself all the way in.
you moan into his mouth, but he stays kissing you, swallowing all the sounds escaping you. “show me.” he says again breaking away for a second.
he wanted to know exactly how skilled you were. he began to slowly thrust in and out of you, as you panted. but you do as ethan says, and lick the tip of ethan’s tongue. ethan has to hold down whimpers as the feeling of you around his dick sends stars into his mind.
you move your tongue to trail down his as you kiss him harder. you keep swirling and circling as ethan tries to not let his eyes roll. he breaks always from your mouth a second to thrust hard into you, making your nails scratch down his shoulder blades.
“fucking hell y/n.” ethan breathes against your open, panting mouth. “you do know what your doing with that tongue. who the fuck else has felt it?”
“w-what?”
“your tongue—who else has felt it?” he speaks harsher as he thrusts into you.
your a mess, a whimpering mess underneath ethan. “tell me.”
“a f-ew guys.” you manage to say in-between thrusts.
“a few guys huh?” ethan hits your g-spot harder, making you writhe underneath him.
“i need names, y/n.” ethan breathes. “fuck.” both your highs are so close.
“i don’t remember— t-them all.”
“or are you just too fucked out to think, right now?” ethan’s pacing has turned somewhat sloppy as his orgasm is at arms reach.
“god, y/n. cause i can’t have boys walking around with an experience of you. they’ve touched you. touched what’s…mine.”
you moan, trying to reach for your orgasm. ethan groans as he feels his cock twitch. “my girl, right?” he breathe-hisses. “my girl—all for me.” he kisses you, just as his high hits, yours not far after.
your both panting as the pleasure slowly falls away in waves.
“shit.” you mutter. either because of how good that felt, or because you’d just fucked a ghostface.
“i—” you gulp. “i won.”
ethan chuckles. “you’d win if you did all of my requests.”
your brows furrow, as heavy breathes still escape you. He leans down to speak to your lips again. “the last one. i told you to open the door.”
“i—” you pause, remembering. you hadn’t opened it. you hesitated and ethan had had to come in instead.
your eyes grow wide as ethan grins. you’d lost. your friends…
“but don’t worry,” ethan begins. “maybe if you ask nicely i might stab them somewhere they can heal.”
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always-just-red · 7 months ago
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Hey, a fluff scenario for cuddling with Rafayel? Thank you 🐡✨
This one really got away from me ahaha, whoops. There's also a moment where my fine art degree really leaps out, so look forward to that, everyone. My first time writing for Raf - thank you anon!!
Perspective
Rafayel x Reader 🎨
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Summary: You've spent two hours preparing a meal for Rafayel, and he has absolutely no intention of sitting down to it.
Genre: fluff fluff FLUFF!
Warnings/Additional tags: established relationship, cuddling, kisses, lots of intimacy tbh (soft, not spicy!)
| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!
Thirty minutes. You and Thomas had spent thirty minutes on the phone trying to figure out where your boyfriend actually was. Half an hour of he’s not with you? and no, I thought he was with you!— back and forth, like a metronome, and it wasn’t exactly the first time, either.
You’re seasoned investigators at this point: called constantly out of retirement for one last job you swear you’re too old for, and yet you know is never going to really be the last. You’ve already got matching t-shirts printed for the tortured agent’s next birthday: ‘Special Unit: Find Rafayel.’ (He won’t find it half as funny as you do.)
Neither of you had heard from the artist since Tuesday, and— it being Friday— he was either in his studio, painting, or definitely dead. It fell within your jurisdiction to find out, so you’d driven here two hours ago, texting Thomas upon arriving:
He's alive!! 🥳🥳🥳
You’re less excited about it now.
Stood at Rafayel’s kitchen island, you lay out the last of the buffet you’ve prepared to try to entice him away from his art. It’s worked in the past: has seen him sniff the air and follow his stomach to whatever you were cooking, like a stubborn stray cat.
“C’mon, Raf,” you call out, because he’s not taking the bait. “Food’s getting cold.”
“Not hungry!”
Your fists ball around the cutlery you’re setting down on the marble; he’s not eaten for three days. You glance up at him across the open space of his home, taking a deep breath through your nose as you watch him scrawl away at his painting. Somewhere in your mind, Thomas is speaking. This is what you signed up for, remember?
Reluctantly, you cross between the rooms, folding your arms as you come up behind Rafayel. “Raf,” you insist again, “come and sit down. Please? You need to eat something.”
“I’m fiiiiiine.” His paintbrush drags viridian over the lower third of his piece.
“You’re not fine,” you huff, and he doesn’t respond. “Rafayel.”
“Rafayel?” he mimics with a chuckle. “You’re mad.”
He’s ‘Rafayel’ in only two types of circumstance: when he’s making you really, really happy, or he’s making you consider the career-leap between bodyguard and assassin. It’s an extraordinarily thin line, and he just loves walking the tightrope.
“I’m not mad, just worried. Can’t you come eat with me? Your painting isn’t going anywhere.”
“It’s not,” he agrees, smoothing out a stroke of paint, “but what about my inspiration?”
“That’ll be waiting for you, too.”
“You think?” His lips curve as he pensively pokes at them with the wooden end of his brush. “I guess you did spend a lot of time cooking, huh? And if you’re really that worried, then…” He spins around with wide eyes. An epiphany. “Feed it to me?”
You stare back, unmoved by the puppy-like expression. He looks cute, yeah, but you’re not falling for it again. This is exactly how he looked earlier, when you’d convinced him to at least accept a glass of water. You’d almost drowned him in your subsequent efforts to actually get it down his throat.
Rafayel mixes three colours on his palette as you relive the ordeal. Like the once-white of his shirt, it’s awash with vibrant greens and blues, some fresh, some days-old. He pauses when he’s done, but you can tell he’s itching to get back to the canvas. “Give me, like… half an hour?” he estimates. The number’s been plucked from thin air. “The food’s gonna be delicious, even if it’s cold. You made it!”
“Raf, I—”
“And how can I even enjoy it if I’m racing to get back here? I wanna savour it, y’know? And anyway…” he trails off, his attention drawn by something above.
“Yeah?” you prompt, glancing upwards. There’s nothing there.
His gaze snaps back. “Sorry, the ceiling was doing something weird. But yeah, anyway, it’s not like you have to— I mean, it’s not like I’m going to— wait. What were we talking about again?”
Not much surprises you these days, but your mouth is still agape. Enough is enough. “Put the paintbrush down. You’re done.”
He nonchalantly returns to the painting. “I’m really not, though.”
You narrow your eyes. Reassess. “You were right about the ceiling.”
“Yeah?” He looks up.
You snatch the paintbrush. “Ha!”
He blinks blankly at you and your eagerly-clutched trophy, unfazed by the moment of triumph. “Cute trick,” he shrugs. He runs a finger across the palette and applies the new colour to the painting with a quick sweep. “What’s next, Miss Bodyguard? You gonna cut off my ha— ow, ow, ow! Hey! Take it easy!”
You’re pinching his ear, dragging him wordlessly to the kitchen, because you're out of things to say.
“Fine. Fine!” he groans as he tries to keep up with you. You release him and he straightens, his face pink, but not as pink as his ear. “You win! Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”
You stop dead in your tracks, then turn with a look so cold he couldn’t melt it with all of his fire.
“I mean— ahaha,” he laughs nervously, rubbing his neck. “It smells amazing, cutie. You’re amazing. I can’t wait.”
Rafayel sits back on his stool, still staring at his painting. The mood is different from earlier. There’s no more restlessness or impatience; he isn’t in a rush. He’s humming a soft song you’re almost certain you’ve heard before, but you can’t quite place the melody. It’s pretty, though: the sort of tune one might recall from a childhood music box, or maybe even a dream.
There’s a clink as you stack two finished plates. Then another. And another.
“Don’t,” Rafayel says quietly, catching your hand before you can collect the plate nearest to him. “I’ll do it later— promise. Sit with me?”
You were never going to say no, but his hands are on your hips before you can say yes, and he’s turning you gently— pulling you up onto his lap. You smile as his arms wrap around you, keeping you from slipping, and he’s warm as you relax back against him.
“What do you think?” he asks, staring out over your shoulder.
Your gaze follows his to the painting, still waiting for him. “It’s okay.”
“Oh yeah?” You can feel him chuckle before it reaches your ears.
“Yeah,” you confirm with a smile, shifting to face him as much as you can. “Kinda pales in comparison to my favourite masterpiece. This one,” you poke two fingers to his chest. “Right… about—” they walk higher, “—here!”
You boop his nose and he immediately scoffs, his face going red. “Sheesh,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eyes. “That was lame.”
“You’re blushing.”
“Am not!”
He squirms as you laugh and try to touch his cheeks; they’re going to feel hot, and he’s a sore loser. His hands don’t manage to capture yours, so they settle for finding your hips again, swivelling you around until you’re trapped by his embrace. You’re both one misjudged move away from toppling to the floor, so you let him keep his victory. What’s left of his dignity, too.  
Your laughter rescinds like a tide, but the quiet is far from empty.
“C’mon,” Rafayel tries again. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, nudging your head, urging you to look forward. His hair is feather-soft on your skin, and he peppers chaste kisses along the line of your jaw. “Tell me. What do you see?”  
You hum contentedly. “A painting.” You’re not thinking about it at all; your eyes are closed.
“And?”
“A plant. A sofa. Some curtains,” you recall.
“You know what I meant,” he grins against you.
You lean back with a sigh, no longer supporting your own weight, but sinking into him with trust and begrudging compliance. It’s not bad, as surrenders go. He gives you a squeeze of encouragement and your head rolls back, stopping at his shoulder. His breath is skirting over your cheek, just barely.
You open your eyes and really look at the painting.
“It’s beautiful, Raf,” you murmur. It is; it was always going to be. “Everything you do is beautiful.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, “I know.” But he wants more. “Does it make you think of something, maybe? Anything?”
There’s no right or specific answer. This isn’t remotely your field of expertise, and you’re oceans apart sometimes, so he has to outstretch a hand. Two viewpoints. Two sides of a coin; you never should have seen each-other.
Your life is hunting monsters, and his is finding beauty in a world where they exist. It’s not what you see, it’s how you see it. Crimson to him is a sunset; to you it’s blood.  
Something in you aches as your eyes roam over his latest work. He won’t tell you what it’s meant to be, not really: that’s a private understanding between him and the canvas, his heart and every stroke of paint. Does it make you think of something? Though the marks are fixed, they’re somehow fluid. The emerald tones are marred by shadows, as though something’s lurking beneath the surface, but there are traces of white, too. Light: shimmering.
“Reflections,” you finally answer. “Scattered to anonymity by a now turbulent lake. They belonged to something else, once, but they’ve taken a new shape— a restless and ever-changing identity— and no-one knows what it is, let alone what it was.”
With a satisfied smile, you close your eyes. That ought to keep him quiet for a minute.
Sure enough, Rafayel is silent. You don’t have to see his crystalline eyes to know they’re set on the painting, soaking it in with a new perspective. His favourite perspective: yours.
You have never been strangers to each-other. Two sides of a coin are still the same coin.
With a light laugh of surprise, he plants a kiss on your shoulder. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For taking care of me.” He’s nuzzling into you again. “I know I can be—”
“A pain in the ass?”
He laughs louder. “I was gonna say eccentric.”
“Oh…” You draw air through your teeth. “Yeah. That’s what I meant.”
Your voice is humourless, your face plain. It lasts all of two seconds, and then the charade is falling to pieces; he’s nibbling at your ear, your neck, and it tickles mercilessly. You giggle, but you don’t try to escape. The punishment fits the crime, and who are you to deny him his justice?
You’re quickly running out of breath, so Rafayel ceases his assault, letting you get it back. “Can I look at you now?” you ask.
He clicks his tongue. “I’ll allow it.”
You shift and he lifts you a little— helping you twist around to face him. He smiles fondly as he links his hands behind you, stopping you from falling as you lean back to enjoy the view. It’s the best kind of smile: one that reaches his eyes and makes them sparkle, like the water in the painting, but infinitely more pretty.
You want to feel that smile on your lips, so you lean in and kiss him.
It’s tender and perfect and when you’re done, you snuggle closer, wrapping your arms around him and nestling like you’ll be staying there for a while. You can hear his heart, and though a part of it is in his painting, the rest is with you. Always with you.
“Shouldn’t you get back to your work?” you ask as you think of it, smiling into his shirt. He won’t— not tonight.
“Nah,” he says, running his fingers through your hair. “It can wait.”
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