#feel free to take any of these ideas and run with them

[emsdevs]

Hi ☺️ I've never written like this on any blog before, but recently a thought crossed my mind about Nico and when I saw your post I thought of writing you. What if the reader is studying sports medicine and needs to study for an exam? She would have known Nico Hischier for some time thanks to her father who is a former NHL player and Nico would have helped her with her studies. She has a big crush on him. And She was just learning about muscle injuries and Nico wanted to give her a visual demonstration of his muscles, so he took off his shirt so that Angie can clearly show places where injuries can occur 🤭? If it's stupid, forget it 🙈 But it seemed like an interesting idea for a short blurb, I think. And sorry for my English, it is not my native language 😅 Have a nice day 🩷

Anatomy Lesson

a/n: I'm so sorry for the delay love. I hope you like it!! I don't know much about sports medicine or human anatomy, so a little bit of credit goes to @heartsforjh for telling me about different muscles and where they can be found!! 🩵

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Nico Hischier Masterlist

You had been knee-deep in anatomy flashcards all evening, and it didn’t seem like it would end any time soon. You had just started looking at the different kinds of muscle injuries for an upcoming exam when you heard a knock at your door. You stood from your couch and made your way to your door, looking through the peephole to find Nico Hischier. Your father introduced the two of you at a Devils event a few years ago, and you have been close friends ever since. You slowly opened the door, confused as to what might have brought him here unannounced, and that’s when Nico smiled brightly and held up the take-out he’d brought.

“You mentioned that you’d been studying most of the day, so I thought you might need a pick-me-up,” he gave you a soft smile before coming in.

“I really appreciate that, Nico,” you return his smile. You lead him into your living room, where you then take a break to eat with Nico. Once the take-out is gone and you’re both full, you settle back in studying, Nico watching with a curious gaze beside you. It doesn’t take him long to pipe up.

“What exactly are you studying? I mean I know it’s like bones and stuff, but what are you struggling with right now?” 

“Right now, I’m looking at the different types of muscles, where they’re located, and how they can be injured, specifically sprained.”

“Oh, wow. That’s… a lot,” Nico grimaces.

“I just can’t quite figure out the abdominal muscles and the ones in that general area. Like I’m almost struggling to picture where exactly they’re located.”

“Oh, well here you go,” Nico stood straight up, slipping his shirt off and tossing it onto the couch beside where you’re sitting. “Now you have a good visual.”

Your mouth runs dry, and you’re not sure when you’ll be able to speak again. Usually, you can keep your crush on the hockey player on the down low, but right now, you’re not sure that’s possible. Just as quickly as your mouth went dry, it started watering, and you had to fight to keep yourself from noticeably drooling. He’s attractive all the time, but with his toned body on display about two feet in front of you, you’ve never been more attracted to him than right now.

“Ummm, yeah. Thanks, Neeks,” you squeak out. Nico pretends not to notice how flustered you are. He had put together a few weeks ago that you returned his feelings, so he’s been trying to subtly step up his game, hoping you would realize he feels the same as you. Being a live model was definitely not in his plan when he showed up today, but he’s thinking this might work out in his favor. “Of course! Feel free to touch too. It might be helpful to feel exactly where the muscle is. You know?”

“Yeah… yep,” your face is bright red. You’re sure of it. 

Before you knew it, you had been naming muscles and pointing them out on Nico’s body for about an hour. You were holding your breath at this point, not used to being this close to him.

“Okay, so obviously these are the pectoralis major muscles,” your hands hover over his pecs, “so this would be the external intercostal muscles.” You move your hands downwards just a few inches, right over where the muscles would be, but something in the air changes when you take a moment to look up at Nico. Your eyes locked, and your hands shifted forward just slightly, now fully lying on his lower chest. You can feel your breathing quicken, and you see Nico’s eyes dart down to your lips. A second later, his lips are on yours, and the moment your brain catches up to what’s happening you’re returning the kiss feverishly. 

His hands move to your waist before one of them slides to your lower back, pulling you as close to him as possible. As much as you love the feel of his firm chest under your hands, you need something to ground you, so you slide them both up his body, leaving one on the back of his neck while the other moves to his hair. You grab his hair lightly, trying to keep him close, but it only causes him to groan into your mouth, pushing into the kiss a little harder. In retaliation, he bites your bottom lip before he pulls away, both of you needing to catch your breath.

The two of you stand there for a moment, not sure what to do now that the line of friendship has been crossed. You watch as a smile slowly breaks out on Nico’s face, and there’s a matching one on yours not long after. You both laugh under your breath, and you hide your face in Nico’s shoulder, hoping he won’t see how red you are.

“How was that for an anatomy lesson?” he giggles like a schoolboy, giving you those perfect doe eyes of his.

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[annoyinglilbro]

Prince brothers??? Hello???

Older brother who is poised and put together, level headed and excelling in his lessons, good with words and can talk himself out of almost any bind. Ofcourse hes good in combat too if it should come to that, but he rarely has to resort to that. He’s so smart and knows so much and is the kings favorite son.

Younger brother who is messy and always late, who would rather be outside and playing than doing this lessons, which he’s falling behind in. He’s rowdy and loud and short tempered and often finds himself running his mouth and getting into scuffs with low lifes in the kingdom. Messy hair and scrapes all over his body.

Big brother who constantly has to pull him from fights where’s Hes definitely outnumbered and going to lose. Big brother who adores his little brother and wants to keep him safe but he’s such a brat and always rolling his eyes or making faces while his big brother talks.

“I don’t need you taking care of me all the time! I can handle myself, golden boy. Fuck off.”

“Would you stop acting like a brat for five minutes? You were not winning that fight, they outsized and outnumbered you.”

“Oh my gods! I would’ve been fine! I train with the knights, i can handle a few jerks with no real training. Why are you here anyway? Don’t you have some fucking meeting or something to be at? Shouldn’t you be by daddy’s side as his shiny little prince?”

Little brother scoffs, shoving past his big brother only to be pulled back the collar of his shirt and pinned to the grimey, alley wall. His wrists are wrapped easily in one hand and pinned above his head.

“Let go! You big jerk!”

“Stop it! I’m just trying to look out for you!” Big brother who pressed his forehead to his little brothers, forcing eye contact. “Why are you always so difficult? Just listen!”

“Go away!! Just leave me alone!”

“I can’t! I’ve tried, and I can’t. You don’t even…you have no idea…how hard it is..”

The younger pauses his squirming, looking up at the other with confused eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

The older Prince sighs, closing his eyes and keeping his forehead pressed to the other, his free hand finding its way under his brothers button up and squeezing at this hip.

“There’s something wrong with me, I know it. But you’re all I think of. My pretty little brother, with all your quirks and bad habits, you consume me. The restraint it takes to not take you…and everyday it gets harder.”

Little prince who is frozen in confusion, the fingers squeezing his hip new and foreign. This is different. This isn’t like when they train in the corridor together, or even like any of their scuffles they’ve had in the past. It feels…different. Realization starts to dawn over him.

“Are you infatuated with your fucking brother? Are you serious? That’s…oh my gods hilarious! The perfect son, the smart one, the one everyone fucking adores!” He laughs when his brother moves back and stares at the floor, face red.

“Do you touch yourself to thoughts of me?”

“Every night.” Older brother leans down, and buries his face into the younger’s neck. “Will you indulge me, little brother? Let me know what you sound like, what you taste like? Atleast once, just for my fantasies.”

His brother always was good with words, and now he was using them to make his head spin.

“I…we probably…shouldn’t…”

“Nobody will know. It can be between us, like when we were kids and you snuck extra cookies into bed. Or that time I covered for you with that stray cat. I miss that, when you would come to your big brother for everything? When you clung to me so desperately? You used to follow me like a puppy, surely you wouldn’t start to bite now, would you? Would you deny me the one thing I’ve ever asked of you?”

“I…that’s not fair it’s not the same I-“ his words are caught in his throat when his brother bites into the flesh on his neck. He couldn’t stop the little whimper that fell from his lips, his wrists were starting to go sore in his brothers grip.

“Stop running from me. I want to get along again, don’t you want us to get along?”

The hand on his hip has dipped down and past the waistband of his trousers. His brothers fingers, his mouth, touching and tasting him in ways he never imagined. He sounds so desperate, truely pleading for his little brothers affections again.

“Big brother…please.”

[eternal-love]

Hey girl, I was wondering If you could Austin x Wife!reader. Maybe he talk about reader in interview or during press. Or maybe paparazzi bombard him and reader, on A walk? Or any scenario you Like.

LIGHTS, LABOR, ACTION!

Pairing: Austin Butler x Director!Reader

Summary: While being in the middle of filming your new movie, baby decides to come into the spotlight. But a moment that should be intimate, is ruined by paparazzi.

Warning: Childbirth description?

Note: I’m so sorry for taking so long, I haven’t been in the right mind space lately. But I’m back.

You knew you shouldn’t even be on set; even your doctor told you so. But your film was very behind schedule, and you needed to get it done. So you sat on your director’s chair. One hand on your big baby bump as the actors were getting their marks.

You were a director, you have done a few short films before, and under your name there were only two movies— this would be the third. A Sofia Coppola in the making.

Filming would be swift, if it wasn’t for the contractions you started having, you tried to push through them. You didn’t want to call off filming, or call Austin. He would tell you ‘I told you so’ and as the contractions got worse, you stared down at his contact on your phone.

“Is everything alright?” Your assistant asked as she walked closer to you.

“Mhmm…” you hummed in response, nodding your head as your hand gripped the armrest of your chair. The pain was basically unbearable.

“If you need anything you can—”

You didn’t mean to be rude, or snappy, or anything but God. His voice irritated you so much. “I know!”

Your assistant nodded as he knew he should probably shut up. You were ok your own, letting out labored breaths. Until a striking contraction hit you and you let out a loud whine. This was it, your water had broken. As you looked down at the liquid dripping down your legs, wetting the floor, your clothes and legs.

“Fuck.” You muttered as you inhaled and exhaled.

Didn’t take long for your assistant to drive you to your chosen hospital. And for Austin to call you.

“I told you! I told you! You should have stayed home with me!” Austin freaked out over the phone, you could hear him running around, probably throwing all you had prepared on the car.

“Right now it’s not the fucking time to nag me…” You said, your breath coming out on a hitch as contractions pained you.

“Oh God.” Austin said as he got into his car and started driving. He felt so desperate because he wasn’t there by your side just yet.

The private hospital took you in quickly, they asked your assistant for all your information as they prepared you for the birth. Inside your hospital room, you walked around, a hand on your lower back as you waited for Austin. Once you heard him come in, you turned around, your teeth gritting.

“What took you so fucking long?” You asked.

“Listen, I told you to stay home.” Austin said, putting all the baby bags and your bag on the couch. He walked closer to you. “How’re you feeling?”

You glared at him. “Like I’m in a field of roses, my love.” You said sarcastically, your free hand rubbing your baby bump. Urging the baby to come out.

Austin walked over to you and placed his hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you down. Which didn’t really help but you loved his enthusiasm.

“We’re in this together, remember, baby?” Austin whispered softly, he leaned down and kissed you softly. You were a sweating mess, but he gladly kissed you. His tongue sneaking inside your mouth as his hand went to your jaw. “Don’t forget it.”

You were told that childbirth was easy, that it was a walk around a park. No one ever told you that an epidural hurt to fucking much. Or that pushing would be so difficult. You had an idea, you just underestimated it. Specially since the epidural was a fail, you felt every inch of that pain.

As you were surrounded by nurses, a doctor and Austin, you pushed, squirming and whining in pain, why the fuck did your baby boy wouldn’t come out?

It was the worst experience of your life, and to have Austin trying to be supportive. You loved him, you truly did. But his words did nothing but stress you out more. You wanted him to shut up.

You successfully gave birth to your boy, one that cried very loudly, and wrath had a full head of hair already. As soon as they brought him to your chest, you held him close, chuckling as he stopped crying once he probably heard your heartbeat.

They did the usual routine of cleaning up both you and the baby, took you to the hospital room. The normal stuff. You finally rested. Austin was over the moon, he was more in love with you.

“Well done, baby. You— were amazing.” He held your hand as he sat by your side, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

“Austin, baby. I called you a cunt.” You whispered, if you laughed, it kinda hurt.

“I get it now. The doctor told me I talked too much. Sorry.” Austin apologized. “But what you did was amazing. I’d rather fight a bear than go through what you went through.”

“Hmm… I’d rather fight the bear too.” He chuckled as he leaned in and kissed your cheek. Holding you close for a while.

The door of the hospital room opened, a nurse came with the baby so you’d feed him. Austin already named the baby, Marlon, not your favorite name but you already knew it was because of Brando.

“I believe he has my nose.” He said proudly. You could only give an incredulous look. That baby looked just like you, to his disappointment but he tried to fool himself.

Did fatherhood turned him into this dumby airhead? Not that you complained but seriously, he behaved differently. You stayed at the hospital for a few days, trying to feel strong again specially after such painful birth. Many of you friends sent you gift baskets, from celebrities to childhood friends.

“From Tom and Z, how adorable.” Austin said as he had Marlon in his arms, he inspected the amazing basket you had just received. “Look, babe, your favorite chocolate!”

Austin threw the small packet towards you as he could. You immediately ate it. You still craved a lot of stuff.

“You’re like an angel to them. They’ve been treating you as if you gave birth to Jesus. All these gifts?” Austin smiled, he loved that his son was already loved by everyone. The baby fit right into his arms, he already loved the baby like he loved no other.

The day you were going to leave the hospital, you got ready, tried to wear the most comfortable stuff. Tried to keep yourself focused on the baby. And as you two made your way towards the exit, you heard it— paparazzi. With their loud voices and annoying cameras.

You instinctively held Marlon closer to you, and he instinctively held you closer.

“How did they even…?” He questioned himself, he didn’t know how they found out you were in this hospital. It was a private one after all. He was never fond of paparazzi, no matter beneficial it would be for his or your career. This was supposed a tender moment between you two.

“I should have gotten more presentable.” You muttered before you made your way outside.

Paparazzi swarmed you the minute they could. Their camera and flashes blinding your sight.

“How was the labor, y/n? Did it go smoothly?”

“Austin, did you cry when the baby was born?”

“Are you ready for sleepless nights, Austin?”

“Can we get a picture of the little one? Just a peek!”

“Thank you for worrying,” Austin managed to say loud enough for some of them to hear, as he tried to make you two get out the sea of paparazzi. It looked like a zombie movie scene.

All you wanted was to be home; with your dear husband and your baby. Without having a nurse, a doctor, your family or his family telling you if what you did was right or wrong.

As soon as you were inside the car, on the backseat, you secured the baby on the baby seat and finally breathed as Austin started driving. He didn’t say a single word. All you could see him do was clench his jaw.

When he helped you get inside the house, inside to the bedroom and into the bed. Baby Marlon slept peacefully in your arms, you only sang quietly to him. As Austin was by your side.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, he acted as if the paparazzi thing was on him.

“For what, baby?” You asked, as you stopped singing to Marlon.

“For those assholes. I promise you, next time— I’ll find a better hospital, I’ll be more intimidating. Because I love you. And I want what’s best for you.”

You couldn’t help but soften at his words. You knew he was always trying to improve, that’s why you loved him so much.

You found this as a chance to kiss him, tenderly, this man was perfect in any way. He was the kind of man your mother told you to get. The kind of man your father high-fived you for bagging. His lips were soft like a pillow, so plump and sweet. You enjoyed tasting them, feeling them, owning them.

“You were perfect out there. We’re in this together, are we not? I love you so much, you can’t even imagine it.”

You said, your free hand reaching for his cheek.

“And you said next time? Slow down, big guy. We’re just getting started.”

[path-of-blue-eyes]

Never in his entire life would he think someone could suck on his fingers like a cock and he'd find it unbelievably erotic. Cheeks reddened, and it's clear from his waist that his body was already excited just from watching Yugi take the least sensual part of his body and indulge in it like it was something to be almost devoured in some way.

It leaves him speechless, instead he can feel his heart beat beginning to race from the rush. His mind almost begging to have a way to savor this moment because of how completely blindsided it left him. Hell, the poor man couldn't even articulate how surprisingly erotic he found it.

Instead of speaking, he let his actions do the words once more, for his other hand to slide down and start to almost slither underneath Yugi's poor soiled briefs to slowly tug them down. Admittedly, he can't help but smirk to himself over how sensitive the other was that he could finish without even being touched. Here he thought, for the longest time solely due to his lack of experience, that he would be the one finishing too soon.

In a surprising move for the usual methodical Seto, those briefs are tossed who knows where. His eyes catching a glimpse of Yugi's smaller cock, and it's then his free hand decides to mimic the way the other teased him earlier by letting his slender fingertip run along from the base to the tip.

"Hm...I wonder if you'd cum just from this..." Voice low, teasing him without any form of mercy for the poor other, but he was admittedly curious. Yugi's sensitivity was completely attractive to him, the idea of him overstimulated and a mess simply by his touch fills his mind, and he leaves his all too curious mind to stroke his cock with his fingertip again.

𝐇𝐄 𝑰𝑺 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃    [    . . .    ]     and  to  an  even  greater  extent  when  he  hears  seto  say  as  much    out  loud .   admittedly ,     yuugi  had  never  imagined  that  he  would  hear  those  words  strung  together  in  that  specific  manner ,     as    vividly     as  his  daydreams  about  himself  and  seto  as  an  item  tend  to  project  in  his  brain    ━━━━     some  of  the  scenarios  produced  by  the    inner  -  mechanisms  of  his  mind     would  put  the  cliché  romance  dramas  into  which  his  mother  invests    hours     of  her  life    TO  SHAME    ━━━━     thus ,     when  the  reality  that  he’s    𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞  𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬     crests  over  him  for  the  millionth  time  this  hour ,     his  face  flushes ,     awe  and  affection  blooming    𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦  𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑘     across  his  mild  features .     seto’s  teasing  smirk ,     bold  and  heart -  wrenchingly  handsome  amid  his    𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐹𝐸𝐶𝑇  𝐹𝐴𝐶𝐸  ,     only  serves  to  darken  that  rosy  hue ,     as  well  as  intensify  the  pulsating  thrum in  his  chest    (   and    between  his  thighs    )  .

           softly ,     yuugi  sighs  as  seto  starts  to  touch  him ,     the  warmth  of  his  hand  penetrating  through  the  luxuriously  delicate  fabric  of  his    ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑓  -  𝑢𝑛𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑑  𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡 .     when  he  caresses  over  his  chest ,     yuugi  is  sure  that  seto  can  feel  his  heart    𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆     like  a  wartime  drum ,     anticipation  and  excitement  spiking  his  pulse  to  something  that  would  surely    short  out     any  type  of  monitor .     with  that  on  his  mind ,     he  doesn’t  even  register  that  seto  can  see  his  piercing ,     given  how  his  shirt  had  ridden  up  the  moment  he’d  tumbled  back  onto  the  bed ;     verily ,     yuugi    𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬  𝐢𝐭  𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬   half  the  time ,     rendering  it  something  of  an  unconscious  secret .     the  silver ,     star -  shaped  jewelry  gleaming  at  his  navel  catches  the  low  light  prettily  each  time  he    heaves  for  breath  ,     seemingly  unable  to  respire  with  any    𝑆𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐿𝐴𝑁𝐶𝐸  𝑂𝐹  𝑆𝑇𝐴𝐵𝐼𝐿𝐼𝑇𝑌     now  that  he’s  mere  moments  away  from    FINALLY     welcoming  seto  into  his  garden  of  paradise ,     offering  a  taste  of  the  fruit  that’s  ripened    𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡  𝑓𝑜𝑟  ℎ𝑖𝑚  .

            “     hhnn     [     .  .  .     ]     ”     he  hums ,     arching  slightly  into  seto  as  he  traces  the  curve  connecting  his  neck  and  shoulder  with  a  trail  of    𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔  𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠  .     some    carnal  desire     nestled  deep  within  his  core  wishes  seto  would    𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊  𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇  𝐈𝐍  ,     fully  claim  him  in  that  intrinsic  way  that    ANIMALS     mark  their  territory ,     but  any  intent  to  voice  that  inclination  melts  away  when  seto  proposes  a  remedy  to  their    lack  of  lubricant . 

           before  he  can  even  provide  an  affirmative  answer    (   an  answer  that  would  have  been    𝐬𝐨  𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞     that  perhaps  that  question  could  have  been    entirely  rhetorical    ) ,     seto’s  fingers  find  yuugi’s  lips ,     and  yuugi  parts  them  for  him  without  thinking ,    𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡  𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔  𝑡𝑜  𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 .   he  shudders  as  seto’s  index  slides  against  the  warm ,     slick  bed  of  his  tongue ,     and  gazes  up  at  him  with    wide  ,     glittery  doll  -  eyes   as  he  allows  his  middle  to  slide  in  alongside  it ;     a  picture  of    𝐸𝐴𝐺𝐸𝑅  𝑂𝐵𝐸𝐷𝐼𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐸  .     upon  closing  pearl  pink  lips  around  them  to  suck  properly ,     yuugi  emits  another  airy  humming  sound ,     lashes  batting  until    𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔  𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑠     flutter  closed .     he’s  fantasized  about  doing  this    EXACT  ACT     an    absurd  amount  of  times ,   but  he  withholds  that  information  from  seto ,     for  now    ━━━━     at  least ,     in  a    verbal  sense  ,     for  the  eagerness  with  which  he  slides  his  tongue  along  his  fingers  and  sucks  on  them  like  the    SWEETEST  TREAT     he’s  ever  tasted    (   as  well  as  the  way  his  cock  is  rock -  hard  and    THROBBING     in  his  cum -  stained  briefs    )     speaks  volumes  more  than  he  could  ever  articulate . 

[thefirstknife]

Speaking of weird things in the season already, I'm back with the obsession with names of things in the seasonal activity.

So in Riven's Lair, you get randomly assigned "missions" that change with each run. I believe there's five of them as I've played a lot of Riven's Lair so far and only got these five to rotate. Maybe there will be more in weeks to come!

Anyway, if you look in the top left corner when you start the activity, it will tell you the name of the mission you're on. The names that I've seen so far are:

Polysemy

Apophasis

Synchysis

Enthymeme

Tautology

Long post under:

These aren't random words! They're all related to language and rhetoric, which makes sense with the Ahamkara theme as Ahamkara are very dependent on the way language is used around them.

Polysemy is when words or symbols are capable of having multiple meanings. Apophasis is when you speak about something by denying it or mentioning it by saying it's not required to be mentioned (def check examples on wikipedia if this is confusing). Synchysis is also a way of speaking in a way that deliberately messes up the order of words to confuse or surprise the person you're speaking to. Enthymeme is a type of an argument where you construct a sentence which tells some sort of a fact by omitting the way you came to that conclusion because the fact should be obvious on its own (again, check wiki for examples, it will be easier to understand). And tautology has a meaning in both language and logic; in language, a tautology is a statement that repeats something, adding redundant information and in logic, a tautology is a logical formula in which a sentence is constructed in a way that every interpretation of the sentence is true.

I doubt these words were chosen randomly and there might be more or perhaps more will cycle in during weeks to come. But even with just this, there's a pattern. I'm not sure which meaning of tautology is being used here; possibly the language one because it fits the rest, but the logic interpretation could also be possible.

The first week's mission was also specifically Polysemy:

I assume next weeks we'll probably do other specific ones in some order, which would also mean there should be at least 2 more. I'm wondering if there's some sort of a reason why these specific words were chosen. Obviously they all relate to forms of speaking and language which is the primary way that Ahamkara use to affect reality; speaking in specific terminology and using particular phrases and language forms is important to them and when speaking to them.

But given the involvement of the Vex, it also reminded me of the lore book Aspect in which every chapter is named after grammatical, linguistic and logic terms. Aspect is also specifically related to the Black Garden and Sol Divisive. Not only that, but Aspect deals with, among other things, the fate of the Ishtar scientists and their copies in the Vex Network, and primarily uses Chioma as their main viewpoint, and the whole situation with Neomuna and Veil Logs has returned my interest in this lore book.

I feel like it isn't a coincidence that we've spent essentially the entire year reacquainting ourselves with Chioma and Maya and Ishtar as a whole only to bring back Sol Divisive and the Black Garden back in the final season in this way. As the Veil Logs told us, one of Maya's copies interfered with one of the logs, sending signals, and Chioma, at the end of her life, contacted the Vex presumably to be consumed by the network so she could possibly reunite with one of the copies of Maya in there.

This brought me also to the mysterious signal from Scatter Signal lore tab in which Osiris tracks down some sort of a signal that seems to be talking about the Vex, but spoken in a strange way. So I began thinking that this signal might be coming from Chioma, consumed by the Vex, from the Vex Network, reaching out to the man who's been studying her, living in Neomuna and researching the Veil for months. Specifically, the final Veil Log mentioned a few similar words and phrases being repeated. Specifically, when Osiris mentions that Chioma was researching "the entaglement of Light and Dark" and when Nimbus and Osiris discuss "parallel connections and parallel energy fields;" then in the Scatter Signal message there's mention of how, presumably, the Vex are trying to "move from parallel to entanglement." The Veil Log also talks about how the Witness can communicate through our Ghosts and how that connection might be going both ways; Scatter Signal also mentions "bridging communion with a Voice."

Copies of Chioma and the other scientists (with the help of Praedyth) once tried to use the Black Garden to send a message out of the Vex Network, detailed in Aspect. We don't know if they succeeded (at least in our current timeline). The Black Garden has been a big focus in Lightfall almost out of nowhere in such an immensely world-changing way (with the explanation of the Black Heart), and it will still be important this season with the exotic mission. It's a very pleasing loop of the story; everything started with the Black Garden in D1 and everything just before TFS might end with it. I'm also incredibly intrigued by the fact that the returning weapons from Undying (a season about the Sol Divisive and the Black Garden) have returned with a new perk called nano-munitions: very Neomuna-sounding name. Perhaps certain Ishtar scientists are influencing the Vex or extending a helping hand to us.

The questions that remain: how does this tie back to the Ahamkara? Why are the Vex interested in the Ahamkara? What do the Ahamkara have to do with the Black Garden? What's with all the strange language terminology that deals with double meanings and ways to confuse? Is it just regular Ahamkara shenanigans to trick us? To trick the Vex? Maybe both?

The point is, I don't think this is as simple as Riven just being sad that all the Ahamkara are dead and wanting to secure her clutch. Nothing is ever simple with the Ahamkara and nothing is ever simple with the Vex; and now we're dealing with both. And somewhere in all of this, there is also a concerning involvement of the Black Garden that connects to both of these elements. At the end of it all, there's us, who rely on this specific combination of elements to get through the portal, pursue the Witness and save the universe.

Spreading the brain worms to the rest of y'all to think about. If you spot any other mission names, feel free to share, though I think that if they happen, they might happen in the coming weeks. Also as I mentioned before, I know there's been leaks and lore tabs unlocking early on Ishtar: I've not seen any leaks or cutscenes and have not read any lore tabs that aren't explicitly visible in-game so if there's a really simple answer in that leaked material, I don't know about it and don't want to know about it so please don't spoil to me or to others!

[mtt-burger-emporium]

thinking about chara and the implications of the line "chara hated humanity. why, they never said..." like ok i KNOW something was happening at home. chara baby you didn't deserve that shit i'm so glad you fell down a thousand feet in a cave hole and right into the arms of people who would keep you fed roof over your head and would never raise their hand against you. "eradicate humanity" you're 10 years old how about eradicating your shitfucked surface fam by calling cps first

[evilmagician430]

garten of banban if it was warriorcats be like

GARTENCLAN

LEADER

pancreasstar - former kittypet; red ginger tom with striped ears

DEPUTY

toadstare - dark brown tom

MEDICINE CAT

the syringeon or whatever i havent played garten VI yet but i know he exists

WARRIORS

leena - former kittypet, short white furred she-cat with pink skin that shows through in places

bigjaw - large dark grey (because he cant be green) tom with large paws and skull and teeth

sourbird - light grey tom

slowsight - light ginger she-cat with short legs

woolyfang - grey tom

nettlepool - large ginger tom with a missing eye

spidertongue - dark grey tom

darkcrawl - black she-cat

QUEENS

tallbird - pink (bald) she-cat with grey patches of fur in some places

[daughterofthesunlands]

Thank you for the tag @iwanderbecauseimlost 😊💖

Do you make your bed?

No 🥹

Favourite number?

Number 7.

Job?

No job, as I'm a student rn. I'm a tutor sometimes in various languages, I speak many.

If you could go back to school, would you?

Only to go beat the crap out of my bullies ☺️🙏

Can you parallel park?

No, I don't have a driver's licence 🥺

Do you think Aliens are real?

Who says that we aren't the aliens? 🤨🧐

Can you drive a manual car?

I don't have a driver's licence. I learned riding a bike really late in my childhood, so I don't think I will ever have the capacity to control a high speed metal box on wheels 😭

I will buy myself a horse tho, that's guaranteed.

What's your guilty pleasure?

Staying up late and dancing in the darkness when I should be asleep😭.

Tattoos? Nope.

Do you like puzzles?

I adore puzzles. I have to keep myself in cheek with not buying many cause if I had too many there is nothing else I would be doing but solving them. I like all kinds of puzzles.

Any phobias?

Alright, here we go.

I am afraid of people on bikes. Ever since I got run over by a guy on his bike in the middle of winter when I was 10, I haven't been the same. Ask me how I survive campus life. I have no idea 😭

I HATE the inside of bread. I only eat the crust. Matter of fact I take a fork and fork out the inside of any bread before I eat it. Even just looking at it makes me kinda irate. If someone just eats the inside without a crust in front of me, I kinda get a panic attack.

And I have a phobia of dried foam. If I see it I will literally jump like a cat, and if I cannot get out of the room where that foam is in I will fight my way out.

Same with really soft and soggy rice. If you place that in front of me or eat it, I'm running out of the room.

Favourite childhood sport?

Dodgeball. I would always be the last standing, doging every ball until they got tired of me. I was that bitch.

Do you talk to yourself?

In many accents, many languages. I make myself laugh a lot, too. Talking to yourself is underrated.

Idk who to tag, but whoever sees this, feel free to join 🌌🌟

DASH GAME

(about Pirate)

Do you make your bed? Sort of? I don't want the cats getting fur all over the duvet as the husband has a slight allergy so I have to tidy it up and have a blanket over it.

Favourite number? Like Luke mine's also probably 13. Or 8.

Job? Typist and medical PA, both public and private sectors.

If you could go back to school, would you? In the sense of being a kid again, nope. If there's something I ever want to study in the future, I'd consider it but it'd likely only be courses that don't involve exams. Exams are too stressful.

Can you parallel park? I can parallel park my arse? (No)

Do you think aliens are real? Yes, but any we can actually reach are unlikely to be like the ones in films. Maybe in another life and if we survive getting off this planet then contact will be possible.

Can you drive a manual car? The only kind of car I can drive involves me playing games on computers.

What's your guilty pleasure? Also like Luke I love to hyperfixate on a song and listen to it for hours on repeat. I swear I had something else for this the last time I wanted to fill this out. Overindulging on video games. Dressing up as Jack Sparrow more times than necessary.

Tattoos? One on my right shoulder that says 'XI', which is one of the muses I brought to this blog and means a lot to me. One on my left shoulder that is a Lokified Jera rune taken from the Kibblesmith Loki comics.

Do you like puzzles? Yes, but only certain kinds. I'm terrible at maths. I like ones I can figure out with not too much trouble so that I feel clever and not rubbish XD or ones I can use a walkthrough for if I've taken too long to figure it out. I do love puzzle games.

Any phobias? Wasps. Somewhat agoraphobic/claustrophobic as I get panic attacks if I think I can't breathe even when there is oxygen. I know that isn't agoraphobia, but it happens more in crowded open spaces with a lot of noise than properly closed ones, though I do have to feel trapped. It got worse since Covid. I have texture phobias too and something else I won't reveal openly in case of trolls.

Favourite childhood sport? Haha what. I mean I guess I occasionally enjoyed badminton and for a while I did like netball. I am not a sport person.

Do you talk to yourself? All. The. Time. I'm the only one who needs to put up with this amount of incessant babble ok? I'm really sorry to the people who game with me who hear me yell or make comment on what's going on, because it's ingrained in me now.

Stole it from: @therebetterbepie

Tagging: (no pressure!) @compassofsouls @small-carbon-lifeform @celestialmantdonna @antvnger @divinityrisen and anyone else who wants to do it if you haven't done it already!

[fingertipsmp3]

Ughhhhhhh I hate writing and I hate not writing and I hate myself

[buildarocketboys]

Fake fic title: dark as a lake

Oooh....I think this would be a flashback-flashforward fic of Pete "platonically" hanging out with Patrick by the Lakes and remembering his dead boyfriend he used to hang out by the Lakes with...so sad. So angsty.

[medicinemane]

You know, capitalism is another one of those words that sadly is like problematic in that it's functionally useless because people just toss it out and then everyone gets so hung up debating the meaning of the word capitalism that the whole point is lost

That's why I don't ever really use it. It doesn't really matter if it's capitalism or if it's cronyism or... whatever, I think it's bad when companies make record profits while prices go up up up

I think there's probably an issue and it probably needs to be solved (and I'm afraid you can't convince me less regulation is a magic bullet)

I like currency and exchanging currency because it seems like a good way of moving goods and labor around, but I also strongly support welfare and think that any group of more than 50 people is probably starting to get corrupt

Don't trust the government, but sure as hell don't trust corps...

I don't know, my original point is that sadly capitalism gets tossed around too much to mean anything anymore... but I just see too many argumentative people online so I'm tossing out my stances to avoid getting side tracked debating what I mean

What I really really mean is just fucking say what you're saying and don't bother saying capitalism cause you'll just make people argue and miss your point

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

in the refrigerator light

summary: you are somehow unprepared to run into Logan while on the quest for a midnight snack... in the house you both live in. wc: 1.9 k a/n: to be fair I did warn you that this would happen. I have a few more ideas kicking around in my head, but feel free to send requests if you have any! this doesn't take place during any particular movie, fyi, but you and Logan are both teaching at the school warnings: fluffy fluff, mutant!reader, empathic powers!reader, soft!Logan

You should have been asleep. Even after choosing to stay on at the school past your education, you’d had a hard time shaking habits of the past. It still felt strange to walk freely into professor only areas, and you were always in bed by 11:00 pm every night. Sneaking down to the kitchen to steal one of the chocolate bars you knew Scott had stashed deep in the back of a cabinet felt wrong, but the siren song was too strong to resist. 

You’d been quiet, making sure to avoid the creaky stair (third from the bottom on the right) before shuffling into the kitchen. You rubbed at your eyes as you made your way to the proper cabinet. The only problem being that it was much higher up than you remember. It was times like these that made you wish for a more helpful mutation, like telekinesis or at least a few extra inches of height. You struggled for a few moments, on your tippy toes, stretching your arm as far as you could reach before you gave up. You sighed, raking your hands through your hair and making your peace with the fact that chocolate was not in your future tonight. 

“Scoot over, bub.” You jumped and let out a small shriek, before clasping a hand over your mouth. It was rare that anyone got the drop on you these days, your power more finely tuned and emotions tending to be strong around the manor, but your guard was decidedly down in the place you’d called home for so many years. But Logan was an exception to many rules. HIs hand gently gripped your wrist, pulling you against his chest for a brief moment before moving to stand in front of the cabinet. He reached up into the cabinet, the zip up hoodie he wore pulling up to expose a few inches of his stomach before pulling down a few bars of chocolate with ease. He smiled, the crinkles by his eyes more prominent in the low light of the kitchen. You did your best to appear like you hadn’t just been ogling him. 

“How did you know-”

“Scott’s shit at secrets.” He huffed, rolling his eyes. “You think he’d learn by now to not be such a loud mouth in a house full of people with enhanced hearing”. 

Your laugh was quiet, muffled by your hand in the interest of not waking the others. “Well, in that case, I hope one of those is for me.” 

Logan shrugged, eyes full of mirth. “What’ll you give me for it?” 

You blinked, unsure of yourself. You weren’t used to this Logan, yet. He was usually gruff and reserved, always reluctant to give into the kids in his history class that were trying to derail the lesson with a joke or two. He’d been playful a few times in your presence, and it almost always made you worried that the other shoe was about to drop. Seeing him in pajama pants and a soft grey sweatshirt only added to the strangeness situation. 

For the briefest moment, you considered using your powers. A single touch and you would know exactly how he was feeling. It was a blessing and a curse, to be able to be sure of how others were feeling with a single touch. A god-send on intel gathering or stealthy missions, a terrible temptation at midnight alone in the kitchen of the manor with the man you had harbored a crush on for as long as you’d known him. You make to grab one of the bars out of his hand, but he is too fast for you, quickly lifting them over his head. Your eyes narrowed. 

Fine, two can play at this game. You roll your shoulders back, drawing up your courage. “Depends what you want for it.” 

Logan grinned, dropping his arms and holding the bars behind his back. “Well, what I don’t want is to be an accomplice in your quest for cavities. Chuck’d have my head if he found out I had a part to play.”  

“I’m a big girl, Logan. I can take care of myself” You grab for the chocolate, but he’s too quick for you. For a brief moment, the two of you stare at each other, the moment charged. You lunged for the chocolate again, but Logan is already halfway across the kitchen, waving the chocolate around teasingly. 

“Logan, please” you laugh, following around the island. He cocked his head to the side, smirk playing at the corner of his lips. You were seconds away from stomping your foot and demanding he hand the chocolate over, when his smirk grew into a grin. 

“Alright bub,” he made his way around the island, depositing one of the chocolate bars in your hand. “You know I can���t say no to you.” 

You did your best to tamp down the butterflies that suddenly made a home in your stomach, but his smile was so gentle and he looked so soft, it was hard not to feel a little lovestruck. You snapped a piece of the bar off, and held it out to him. You dutifully busied yourself with breaking off a piece for yourself, ignoring the way that his affectionate gaze seemed to never leave you. 

“You’re not usually up this late,” he says, holding his hand out for another piece. You shrug, dropping another section into his hand. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

“Welcome to the club.” You knew that Logan had trouble sleeping, he was usually the first one hunched over a cup of coffee in the mornings, steadfastly ignoring inquiries into how he slept. 

“I, um” You hesitated. Usually offers of using your powers didn’t go well. You took a breath, steadying yourself. The worst he could say was no, right? “I could help with that, if you want.” 

Logan reached out, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You could tell your eyes were the size of saucers, but you couldn’t find words. After a few moments, Logan took a step back, shaking his head slightly. You blinked owlishly, taking a breath to steady yourself. 

“That’s sweet of you, bub. But I wouldn’t want to tucker you out.” It was no secret around the house that although you had a less physical mutation, it still took some of your energy. Sensing emotions was as natural as breathing, but influencing them was newer, and took much more focus. 

You pointedly glanced at the clock over the stove, noting that it was well past any reasonable bedtime, before facing Logan once more. “That actually sounds really nice.” He mumbled something about not wanting to take advantage of you, but the words died in his throat when your hand found his own. You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping that he would be able to see how earnest you were being. “I don’t want to force you, but I want to be asleep more than anything, and I can tell that you are too wound up about something to even begin to fall asleep.” 

His thumb stroked over the back of your hand a few times, before he stepped around you and led you out of the kitchen. You expected him to turn towards the living room, where you’d caught him ‘resting his eyes’ a few times in the middle of the day. Instead, he turned right making sure to skip the creaky stair (third from the bottom on the right) and right up to the door of your room. 

“A bit presumptuous, no?” You asked, before opening the door and walking through. 

Logan rolled his eyes, leaning against your doorframe. “I was there the first time you tried this. Figured it was best that no one has to pick you up off the floor.” 

You felt your face grow hot, remembering the unmitigated disaster that had occurred the first time Charles suggested that this application of your powers was a possibility. Your chin tilted up, doing your best to project confidence. “Well, it’s been a while since then, I’ve gotten better.” 

If the lighting had been better, you would have seen the faintest pink blush coloring his cheeks. “Rogue’s in my room.” You couldn’t help it, your eyebrows shot up near your hairline. “She and Bobby got into a fight, she wanted somewhere she would be left alone.” His hands were twisting in the pockets of his sweatshirt as he ducked his head down low. 

“Is that why you were prowling around the kitchen?” He rolled his eyes, but nodded all the same. “Well, do you wanna stay here tonight?” He looked like he was about to object, but you held your hand up, effectively silencing him. “You’re doing a favor for Rogue, let me do one for you.” 

“Thought you were already doin’ me a favor, sweetheart.” He protested, all while moving towards your bed. 

You perched on the edge of your bed, consciously doing your best to keep your heart rate in check. The students always joked that between Charles and Jean’s mind reading and Logan being able to hear cheaters hearts speeding up, it wasn’t even worth it to try and cheat in class. It hadn’t occurred to you that if he could hear your heart fluttering, he could definitely hear the measured deep breaths you were taking to mitigate the issue. 

You reached for his hand, and he accepted it readily. His palm was shockingly smooth under yours, it must be from his regenerative powers. Your thumb gently ran across his knuckles, still slightly red from the training session he’d had with some of the students earlier in the day. You tugged on his arm slightly, and he lowered himself down onto the bed beside you. “I thought that it’s important to work as a team, sometimes.” 

“You spyin’ on me, bub?” You sheepishly meet his eyes, but find nothing but tenderness waiting for you. “I’ll try to forgive you.” He drops a kiss on your knuckles, before motioning for you to lay down. “I’ll take the floor.” 

You tightened your grip on his hand. If he really wanted to, he could have broken away easily. Instead, he paused, eyebrows raised and waiting for an explanation. “Not much of a favor if your back hurts in the morning from sleeping on the floor” you shrugged. 

“Only if you’re sure-”

“Just get in the damn bed Logan.” He grinned, pulling back the covers and slipping into the bed. You followed shortly after, and slipped your hand back into his. The both of you laid in silence for a few moments, adjusting to your new arrangement. You were nice and toasty warm, able to feel the heat radiating off him under the covers. You were in the middle of working up the courage to actually use your powers, when soft snores began to emanate from the other side of the bed. You chanced a glance towards him only to find his lashes gently fanned out over his cheeks, and his chest rising and falling with his steady breathing. 

After a few moments, you followed him into dreamland. In the morning, you woke up with his arm firmly around your waist, feeling fully rested for one of the first times in your life. Again, you waited for the awkwardness to come, for your face to flush and your stammer to pick back up, but you were left waiting.

feedback is very much appreciated, as I’ve never written for Logan before! let me know what you think <3

next part

[sophiamcdougall]

I am never going to complain about Greek Duolingo again

I mean, I am. But still.

So, as some of you know, my family has been coming to this tiny Greek seaside village for several years. Just over a week ago I came out here with my mum, under the impression that early September, after the height of the summer heat, would be a good time to have a holiday. ANYWAY Storm Daniel had other ideas about that. Locally things are improving (I'm actually really pissed off about the disaster-porn tone of most English-language media coverage, but that's another post). The power is back on, there's running water most of the time, and though the latter is not drinkable, a truck from the government came and handled out free bottled water yesterday. But we are currently kind of stuck. Can't do tourist things. Can't go home. There aren't any local flights out until Saturday and the road to Thessaloniki is still closed.

So this evening, feeling kind of aimless and depressed, I go down to the nearest beach with a couple of binbags and start cleaning up in an effort to at least do something positive. I always try to do this at least once out here and obviously, after the storm, there's a lot more plastic and rubbish than usual.

At some point I find this large, round bit of metal - some kind of machinery part, I think -- that's too big for the bag, so I take it to the bins on its own, leaving the rubbish bag on the beach. And when I come back for it, something among the stones beside it moves.

Specifically, it pulls its head sharply inside its shell

So, meanwhile I've been trying to learn some Greek with the help of Duolingo.

I currently have a 33-day streak and... I have questions. Shouldn't I be able to use the past or future tenses by now? Shouldn't I be able to say "x is like y"? I can't do those things. But one thing I absolutely can say all day long is έχω μια χελώνα : I have a turtle.

This is far from the limit of Duolingo Greek's turtle-related content. "An obsession with turtles" is my mother's characterisation. I can inform you that the turtle is not a bird, and, improbably, that the turtle is drinking milk. I can introduce you to a turtle in company with a horse and an elephant. As far as Duolingo is concerned, it really is turtles all the way down.

Now this, you may be able to see, is not a turtle. It has claws rather than flippers. It is a tortoise. I know there are wild tortoises in Greece: my aunt once rescued a pair of them shagging in the middle of the road -- but that was up in the mountains. I've even seen one myself, but it was also on a road and very dead.

I am 95% certain they don't belong on beaches. There's nothing for it to eat, except, unfortunately, a lot of plastic. Even if it gets off the beach it will immediately find itself on a road where it could get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure it must have been washed down by the floodwater and has been just sitting there, dazed, ever since.

Now obviously the first thing I want to do on encountering this unusual animal is to go and tell my mummy, so I do. The tortoise immediately brightens her day. She agrees that the tortoise is not happy on the beach and needs to be taken somewhere safe. it gets surprisingly wriggly when picked up so we put it in a carrier bag with some grapes and cucumber and go looking for somewhere to rehome it.

We find a path leading up between the houses towards a likely-looking field, but before we get very far a dog in a yard goes berserk and a man's head pops over a fence and demands to know what we're doing. He does this in English, as evidently we're just that obviously tourists.

"I found a tortoise on the beach!" I explain. "We want to find somewhere to put it."

"A what," he asks.

"It's like a, you know," I begin and then to my astonishment I find myself saying... "μια χελώνα"

"Oh! A turtle!" he says.

"But from the land. δεν είναι χελώνα", [it is not a turtle,] I say, as I am worried he will tell me to put it back near the sea where I found it. As it turns out it actually IS a χελώνα, Greek does not distinguish between turtles and tortoises, but I don't know that; I can't even name the days of the week or identify any colours other than pink yet, give me a break.

The man's entire demeanour changes and thaws. He does not worry about my turtle-that-is-not-a-turtle conundrum. He knows where οι χελώνες come from and where η χελώνα μας belongs. He leads us through a gate into a courtyard area.

"[somethingsomething] μια χελώνα," he explains to the assembled onlookers, of whom there are, suddenly, a surprising number.

"ΜΙΑ ΧΕΛΩΝΑ!!!" crows the throng of delighted small children, who are, suddenly, everywhere.

"μια χελώνα!" I agree, accepting that at least for current purposes, that is what it is.

"Μπορούμε να δούμε τη χελώνα σας; [can we see your turtle?]" asks an adorable little girl, shyly, and I understand??

The children fucking love looking at the χελώνα and showing it to them is kind of magical?

I finally put the tortoise down on the grass of this wild area off to the side of the courtyard, and marvel aloud that it is weird that I barely know any Greek except how to say μια χελώνα.

"I think she will soon run off," a kind lady called Aspasia assures me, seeing I remain slightly anxious about its fate. "I don't know why I'm saying 'she'. I suppose because χελώνα is feminine in Greek."

"Yes! I know that!" I exclaim, thrilled.

"Well done!" she says. And also she asks if we are OK for drinking water after the storm and if we need any help with anything and is just generally incredibly lovely and now we know more of the neighbours!

So "μια χελώνα" has just become, by a long way, my most-used and most understood and all-around most conversationally successful phrase in Greek. So I guess I have to admit I was wrong to doubt Duolingo's wisdom: it is correct to be obsessed with turtles. And I concede that prior to learning how to count to ten or to distinguish right from left, the simple ability to yell the word TURTLE over and over again is, it turns out, a crucial element of the responsible traveller's social skills.

(I am pretty fluent in Italian and turtles haven't come up in conversation even once?)

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC De-Aged Triplets and Their Tired Single Sister

Jason has seen the four of them a couple of times in Crime Alley now. They looked like a family, what with similar facial features- err, actually, the kids looked like carbon copies of each other, but their mom/sister/aunt/cousin looked similar enough to be related to them by blood.

Normally, Jason didn't care for each and every family that moved into Crime Alley. Sure, he cared about all of them as a whole, but there were a lot of people, and he couldn't possibly get elbow deep in every life story he came across. So all he knew about them were three things: a) they were on the run from someone or something, b) they trusted each other and no one else, and c) apparently, they have made it their life goal to never make any kind of sense.

The list of shit they have gotten into included but was not limited to:

• one of the kids biting a gun. Not the hand of the attacker who was holding it, no, the actual gun. And he bit a piece of it clean off, which earned him - or her, actually, Jason knew one of the triplets was a girl but he couldn't tell them apart - a lecture from their... mom? sister? parental figure. The lecture was about how chewing metal does not help with iron deficiency.

• getting kidnapped and creeping out their kidnapper to the point of him returning the kids back home. A few witnesses said one of the kids was actually driving, sitting on the kidnappers lap behind the steering wheel and cheerfully commanding the man to speed up or brake. Their mom actually apologized to the kidnapper for the incident and offered him homemade cookies for his troubles. He ran away without them.

• driving a lady at the laundromat insane by repeatedly walking inside and climbing into one of the washing machines. They never got out of it, just one kid walking into the laundromat, climbing into washing machine, then another kid, looking exactly like the previous one, walking inside, climbing into the same washing machine, then another kid walking into the laundromat- well, you get the idea. The lady claimed she's seen at least five kids do that in a row, but when she looked into that washing machine, there was no one inside.

• casually falling out of windows. Or, better, walking out of them like they were doors, at any given opportunity. The witness - an old man who was helping their mom with groceries - said the mom did not care in the slightest, and when he asked her about it, obviously concerned, she just said, tired and exasperated, 'they like the feeling of free fall, don't worry, they'll come back in a minute'. Sure enough, they did, not a scratch on them. The family lived on the sixth floor.

• eating insane amounts of food. Jason personally witnesses their mom give them her wallet, telling the kids, 'eat until you're full', and promptly passing out on the table, her head on her arms. The kids then proceeded to eat four whole pizzas, three burgers each, then seven brownies and at least five cups of soda. What was interesting about it was not only the amount of food they ate but the way they never left their mom unattended, one of the kids always staying beside her sleeping figure as the other two went to order.

And now, all four of them were standing in front of him. Not Jason Todd him, but Red Hood him. And he was... confused.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, can you watch them for a few hours? Three, maybe four," the mom, Jazz as she introduced herself, was looking at him like it was he who was speaking nonsense, not her. Because asking a crime lord to watch three kids in the middle of the night is not something a sane person would do.

"Why?" He asks, bewildered, because what the fuck else is he supposed to say?

"I need to kill a man, and if they come with me, it will take three times longer," Jazz tells him. Is she saying the kids slow her down or what? Jason can admit he's never been this confused in his entire life.

"You could ask me to kill a man, while you stay with them, no?" He tries to reason, but the girl waves him off:

"No, that will take even longer. Besides, no offense, but you kill people to simply end their life, and I need that man to fucking stop existing forever."

What's the difference he almost wants to ask. But instead of that, he just sighs.

"Why me? I'm sure you could find a babysitter-"

"No babysitter will handle them. The last one told me they have been running laps on the ceiling, which is, actually, not that big of a deal. They are kids. Kids like running around," she huffs, and Jason suspects she is missing the point here, but okay. He gets why babysitters are not an option.

"You do understand what they can witness if they stay here?" He asks, as the last attempt to reason with the girl, but she just nods and leans down, making all the kids turn to her.

"Okay, you menaces, tell me what not to do while you're staying with Mr. Red Hood."

"No eating people," one kid starts.

"No driving people insane," the other one continues.

"No, um, stealing eyeballs," the third one finishes, and what the fuck are those ground rules? Is this girl a mother to eldrith horrors? That would explain some shit.

Jazz turns to him, "See? They're all good."

In what world is that good? Jason debates if he should start running now or when she leaves.

"Do they have names?" He asks instead. The girl nods:

"Danny." His surprise must be evident even through the mask because she sighs and points to each kid, "Diane, Daniel, Dante. Dani, Danny, and Dan. Actually, you know what, let's make this easier," she rummages through her bag and gets a marker out before gesturing to the kids, "Come here."

As they do, she proceeds to draw numbers 1, 2, and 3 on their foreheads. Then she nods to Hood and puts the marker away.

"Okay, that's better. Behave, you monsters, I'll be back soon!"

After she leaves, Jason looks down at the kids. They also look at him, eerie and unblinking.

Finally, one of them - number 2, Dani, if he is not mistaken - asks:

"Do you want teeth? We have a lot."

"She doesn't mean her teeth," number 1 clarifies, "She means other teeth."

...This is going to be some very long three hours.

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - AFRAID

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ dark!boyfriend!rafe cameron ⋆ reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which Rafe hatches a plan to ensure you stay by his side, by making you dependent on him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ explicit language noncon/dubcon, smut, rafe drugs reader, substance abuse, toxic relationship, emotional abuse, baby trapping/forced pregnancy, possessiveness, controlling behaviors, threats of violence, loss of virginity, corruption, breeding kink, dirty talk (like a lot), abandonment issues, manipulation, rough sex, hairpulling, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, powerplay, choking, semi public sex, car sex, creampie (please dni if your sensitive to these topics your mental health should come first)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 8,960

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ is there a plot not really, it may seem long but 80% of this is smut. this is unrelated but i think his season 1 & 2 rafe hair were elite to me but I just hate buzz cuts on everyone so my opinion doesn't matter here. The ‘Lila’ is now edited I use it as a placeholder (because for some reason I hate putting y/n while writing) before I replace it with y/n but of course my dumbass forgot to do that when I published this.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･Afraid･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

(༝༚༝༚ lana del rey)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe sits across from you at your usual table in the country club, his jaw clenching rhythmically as he watches you flip through the college applications. His fingers drum against the polished wooden table, creating a nervous pattern that matches his increasing anxiety. The sight of all those prestigious university names makes his stomach turn - Harvard, Yale, Princeton - each one threatening to take you further away from Outer Banks, from him. He barely touches his plate of steak, too preoccupied with the growing unease in his chest.

"Why the fuck are you even looking at schools that far?" He snaps suddenly, his voice carrying a sharp edge as he reaches across to snatch one of your fries, popping it into his mouth with more force than necessary. His blue eyes darken with barely contained irritation, especially when he catches Topper's wave from across the room. He returns it with a curt nod, his attention immediately returning to you. "You know there's perfectly good schools right here in North Carolina. UNC's got a decent program."

You glance up from your binder, your eyes meeting Rafe's intense blue ones. You set down your fork carefully on your half-eaten Caesar salad, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The sunlight streaming through the country club's windows catches on your hair, creating a halo effect around your skin. "Baby, we've talked about this," you say gently, "These schools have amazing programs for what I want to study. And it's not like I'm making any decisions yet - I'm just looking at options."

The afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches on his rings as he reaches up to run a hand through his disheveled hair, a telltale sign of his growing agitation. The country club bustles around them with the usual crowd of Kooks - women in tennis whites gossiping over martinis, men in polo shirts discussing their latest yacht purchases. But Rafe's focus remains fixed on those damned college applications, his jaw working overtime as he grinds his teeth.

The cocaine from earlier isn't helping his paranoia, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them. The idea of you leaving, of losing control over this one good thing in his life, sends a fresh wave of anxiety through his system. His free hand unconsciously reaches up to rub at his chest, a nervous tick he's developed. The country club suddenly feels too small, too confined, and he can feel his breathing getting slightly erratic. "Just... just put those away for now," he demands, trying to maintain his composure despite the rising panic in his chest. "We're supposed to be having lunch, not planning your fucking escape route."

You reach across the table with your free hand, your fingers brushing against his chest where he's rubbing anxiously. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something sharper - probably remnants of whatever he'd been doing before lunch - fills your nostrils as you lean closer. "Rafe, you're spiraling again," you observe quietly, mindful of the other diners around them. Your eyes flick briefly to Topper and his mother as they pass, offering a polite smile before returning your attention to your increasingly agitated boyfriend. "And you know that's not fair. I'm not trying to escape anything, especially not you."

"Besides," he continues, his tone taking on that manipulative edge he's so good at, "You really want to leave all this behind? The island, the parties, me?" He leans forward, lowering his voice to that dangerous whisper he uses when he's trying to get his way. "You know I can't follow you out there. I've got responsibilities here, the family business..." His hand shoots out to grab your wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make his point. "And what about us? You're going to throw away what we have for some fancy degree you could get right here?"

The weight of his intense stare makes you shift in your seat, your sundress rustling against the plush cushions. You can see the telltale signs of his growing panic - the clenched jaw, the rapid breathing, the way his fingers keep twitching against the table. Part of you wants to close the binder, to give in like you usually do when he gets like this. But another part, the part that's been dreaming about life beyond the island since you were little, keeps your hand steady on the applications. "What about a compromise?" you suggest, your voice taking on that soothing tone you learned to use when he's on edge. "What if I apply to both - some schools here in North Carolina and some out of state? That way we have options to discuss later?"

Your free hand moves from his chest to his face, your thumb gently stroking along his clenched jaw. You can feel the tension there, the way he's grinding his teeth. The chatter of the country club fades into background noise as you focus solely on him, knowing how quickly his mood can shift when he feels cornered. "And hey," you add, your voice dropping to a whisper as you lean even closer, your lips quirking into a small smile, "No matter where I end up going, you know you're the only one I want, right? These other Kook boys could never compare to my Rafe Cameron."

The familiar weight of the promise ring he gave you three months ago sits heavy on your finger, catching the light as you move. You learned over your time together that sometimes Rafe needs this - needs to be reminded that he's your choice, that you're his. Even if the possessiveness sometimes scares you, even if his mood swings leave you walking on eggshells, you can't deny the way your heart still races when he looks at you like he is now - like you're something precious he's terrified of losing. "Can we at least look through them together? You might see something you like too."

Rafe lets go of your wrist his hand shooting out to slam your binder shut with enough force to make nearby diners jump. "Don't fucking patronize me," he growls, his voice low and threatening despite their public setting. The gentle stroke of your thumb against his jaw only heightens his agitation, like a match to gasoline. "You think I don't see what this is?" He leans forward, invading your space across the table, his blue eyes wild with a mixture of possessiveness and barely contained rage. "First it's just 'looking at options,' then suddenly you're gone, probably fucking some ivy league asshole who doesn't know you like I do." His breathing becomes more erratic, the hand on his chest pressing harder as anxiety mingles with his growing anger. The familiar scent of your perfume - usually calming - now seems to mock him with its potential absence.

"You're trying to leave me, just like everyone else. Just like my mom, just like Sarah..." His voice cracks slightly on his sister's name before hardening again. "Well, I won't fucking let you."

You tense at the sudden shift in Rafe's demeanor, your heart rate picking up as you watch him slam your binder shut. The warmth drains from your eyes, replaced by a flicker of fear you try desperately to hide. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as he invades your space, his paranoia rolling off him in waves. You’ve seen him like this before, but never quite this intense, never quite this threatening in such a public place.

"Rafe, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you glance around at the other diners who are now openly staring at them. Your sundress suddenly feels too thin, too exposed under his wild-eyed gaze. You can smell the mixture of his cologne and sweat, and see the way his pupils are dilated - clear signs he's high again. "You're making a scene. Can we please just discuss this somewhere private?" 

A laugh escapes his throat at your suggestion of talking, the sound drawing more concerned glances from nearby tables. "Discuss? There's nothing to fucking discuss." His voice takes on that manipulative tone he knows works so well, mixing threat with vulnerability. "You belong here, with me. Do you think any of those places are gonna love you like I do? Understand you like I do?" His eyes flick to the promise ring on your finger, a visible reminder of his claim on you. "Or maybe that's what you want - to get away from the crazy boyfriend, right? Is that what this is about?"

The cocaine-fueled paranoia reaches a crescendo as he suddenly stands, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He towers over you, his presence intimidating despite the public setting. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans down close to your ear. "And if you try, I'll make sure every single one of those fancy schools loses your application. Don't test me, baby." His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, a twisted mixture of threat and affection that's purely him. "Now get your shit. We're leaving." His hand moves to grip your upper arm, ready to pull you up from your chair, his entire body vibrating with barely contained violence and possessive need.

The promise ring feels like it's burning on your finger as tears start to well up in your eyes. "I'm not trying to leave you," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. I'm not trying to leave you, I love you, Rafe. You know I do. But you're hurting me right now." You can feel your body starting to shake, whether from fear or adrenaline, you're not sure anymore.

You let him pull you to your feet, knowing resistance will only make things worse. Your college applications lay forgotten on the table as you stumble slightly, your legs weak from the sudden movement. "Okay," you concede, your voice small and defeated. "Okay, we can go. Just... please calm down. Please." Your free hand comes up to rest on his chest again, feeling his racing heartbeat under your palm. "Let's go to your family's place and talk about this properly. Just you and me, baby. Like we always do."

Rafe feels you trembling beneath his grip, and something in your tear-filled eyes pierces through his cocaine-addled rage. His breathing is still erratic, but the feel of your hand against his racing heart starts to ground him. The familiar scent of your perfume begins to cut through the paranoid haze, reminding him of lazy mornings in his bed, of your soft sighs against his neck. His grip on your arm loosens slightly, though he doesn't let go completely.

"Fuck," he mutters, running his free hand through his disheveled hair as reality starts seeping back in. The stares of the other country club patrons finally register, and he can feel his father's disapproval even in his absence. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he struggles to regain control. "Yeah... yeah, okay. Let's go home." His voice is still rough, but the dangerous edge has dulled somewhat. He reaches past you to grab your binder, shoving it under his arm - he's not leaving it here for you to come back to later.

The walk to his truck is tense, his hand moving from your arm to the small of your back - still possessive, but less aggressive. The cocaine is making him jittery, his thoughts racing between paranoia and guilt. Once you're inside his truck, he slams his palms against the steering wheel, making you jump. "I just..." he starts, his voice cracking slightly. "I can't lose you too, baby. I can't." His blue eyes, when they meet yours, are still wild but now tinged with desperation rather than rage. "Everyone leaves. Everyone always fucking leaves."

He reaches across the center console to pull you closer, burying his face in your neck. His breathing is still uneven, but slower now as he inhales your scent. "Stay," he whispers against your skin, his voice taking on that vulnerable quality that only you get to hear. "Just... stay with me. Please." His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin there. It's the closest thing to an apology you’re likely to get from him, this moment of raw vulnerability between the storms of his temper.

Rafe paces anxiously across Topper's home gym, his footsteps echoing against the polished hardwood floors as sweat drips down his bare chest from their workout session. The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the expensive exercise equipment. His muscles are tense not just from lifting weights, but from the constant anxiety gnawing at his insides about your potential departure. The cocaine from earlier is still coursing through his system, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them.

"I'm telling you guys, she's fucking leaving me," he complains, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he continues his relentless pacing. The familiar panic starts rising in his chest again, making him rub at it absently. "All these fucking college applications... Harvard, Yale, Princeton. She's planning her escape and I can't... I can't fucking let that happen." His blue eyes are wild as they dart between Kelce and Topper, sprawled across the leather bench press seats, watching their friend's mounting distress.

Kelce exchanges a knowing look with Topper before speaking up, his voice careful as he watches Rafe's increasingly agitated movements. "Man, you need to chill. Maybe if you weren't so fucking intense about it-" Rafe's sharp laugh cuts him off, the sound bouncing off the mirrored walls. "Intense? You think I'm being intense?" Rafe's voice rises as he spins to face them, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "My girl's trying to leave the fucking state, and you're telling me to chill?"

"Well," Topper drawls, wiping his face with a monogrammed towel, "you could always do what my cousin did when his girlfriend tried to leave for college." He pauses for dramatic effect, a smirk playing on his lips. "Got her knocked up. Can't exactly go to Yale with a baby on the way, can you?" He's clearly joking, but something in Rafe's expression shifts, his eyes taking on that dangerous gleam that appears when he's formulating a plan.

"That's..." Rafe stops pacing, his mind racing with possibilities. His jaw clenches rhythmically as he processes the idea. "That's fucking perfect." He starts pacing again, but this time with purpose, his movements predatory rather than anxious. "She'd have to stay. She'd be tied to me forever." His voice takes on that obsessive quality that appears when he's fixating on something. "No more fucking college applications, no more threats of leaving. She'd be mine, completely mine."

"Dude," Kelce sits up straighter, realizing Rafe's actually considering it. "I don't think that's what Topper meant-" But Rafe's already lost in his world, his cocaine-fueled paranoia latching onto this new solution like a lifeline. "She's still a virgin too," he continues, more to himself than his friends, his rings catching the light as he gestures animatedly. "Waiting for the 'right moment' or some shit. Well, guess that moment's coming sooner than she thought."

"No, no, this could work," Rafe continues, his voice taking on that edge that suggests he's spiraling into one of his episodes. "Her parents are traditional as fuck, they'd make her keep it. And Ward's always going on about wanting grandkids to carry on the Cameron name..." He's fully pacing now, his movements jerky and aggressive as the plan solidifies in his mind. "She's been hinting about wanting to do it soon anyway. Valentine's Day is coming up..."

The gym falls silent except for the sound of Rafe's footsteps and heavy breathing. Neither Kelce nor Topper dare speak, knowing from experience that trying to talk Rafe down when he's like this - especially when he's high - is pointless and potentially dangerous. They watch as their friend works himself into a frenzy, plotting the permanent capture of his girlfriend with the same intense focus he applies to everything he wants to possess.

"It's perfect," Rafe finally declares, stopping his pacing to face his friends. His chest heaves with excited breaths, sweat making his skin shine in the fading sunlight. "She'll never leave me then. She'll have to stay here, raise our kid, be the perfect fucking family." 

The thought of you, permanently his, unable to leave him, sends a rush of possessive pleasure through his system. "You guys didn't hear any of this," he suddenly stops, fixing both Kelce and Topper with a threatening stare. "Not a fucking word to anyone, got it?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that reminds them why people are scared of him, why even other Kooks think twice before crossing him.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe," Topper mutters, running a hand through his hair as he watches his friend's descent into this new obsession. "This is fucked up, even for you." But he knows that look in Rafe's eyes. Once Rafe sets his mind to something, especially when he's high, there's no talking him out of it. The gym feels smaller suddenly, charged with the energy of Rafe's newfound determination.

Rafe stands at the door of the l/n estate, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure in his tailored black suit. His blue eyes are slightly dilated from the line of cocaine he did in his truck to calm his nerves, but he's made sure to eye drop and cologne himself thoroughly. The velvet box containing the surprise he has planned for later weighs heavy in his pocket as he shifts anxiously, his rings catching the light as he reaches up to adjust his tie.

When Paul opens the door, Rafe immediately straightens his posture, forcing his most charming smile - the one he uses when he needs to impress. "Good evening, Mr. L/N," he greets, his voice steady despite the cocaine making his heart race. The older man's scrutinizing gaze reminds him uncomfortably of his own father's disapproving stares. The foyer behind Paul gleams with old money - crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and family portraits that speak of generations of Kook legacy.

"Rafe," Paul acknowledges with a slight nod, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the young man's appearance. There's something about Ward Cameron's son that has always set him on edge, though he can't quite put his finger on what. Maybe it's the occasional wild look in his eyes or the way his daughter seems to walk on eggshells around him sometimes. "Y/N is still getting ready. Come in." He steps aside, allowing Rafe into the pristine foyer.

The sound of Rafe's expensive dress shoes echoes against the marble as he enters, his hands sliding into his pockets to hide their slight tremor - partly from the drugs, partly from anticipation of what he has planned for tonight. The house smells of old money and fresh flowers, much like his own family's estate, but somehow more sterile, fitting for a plastic surgeon's home. His fingers brush against the small packet of powder in his pocket, next to the ring box - just enough to keep him steady through dinner.

"I trust you'll have her home at a reasonable hour," Paul's voice cuts through Rafe's thoughts, making him turn to face the older man. "Of course, sir," Rafe responds, that practiced smile still in place even as his jaw clenches slightly. "We just have reservations at Le Rivage, then maybe a walk on the beach." What he doesn't mention is the rest of his plans for the evening - the champagne waiting in his truck, the blankets he's laid out at his secret spot on the beach, the pills dissolved in one of the champagne glasses that will make sure everything goes according to plan.

The sound of heels on marble draws both men's attention to the grand staircase, and Rafe's breath catches in his throat. You descend like something out of a dream, your skin glowing against the deep red of your dress making his hands itch with the need to touch you. His blue eyes darken as they track your movement, his mind already racing ahead to later in the evening, to all the ways he plans to claim you completely.

"You look fucking perfect," he breathes out when you reach the bottom of the stairs, catching himself too late to censor his language in front of your father. But he can't help it - the cocaine making him more impulsive than usual, and the sight of you making his blood run hot. He steps forward to meet you, one hand reaching out to brush against your waist, proprietary and possessive even under your father's watchful gaze. The scent of your perfume mingles with the lingering chemical taste in the back of his throat, making him dizzy with want and anticipation.

Tonight's the night, he thinks, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as Paul insists on taking pictures. Tonight you become his completely, permanently. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. The thought makes him pull you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Ready for your Valentine's surprise, baby?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that anyone else would recognize as a warning, but he knows his sweet, innocent Y/N won't catch it. Not until it's too late.

Rafe helps you into his truck, his hand lingering possessively on your lower back as you climb in. The interior smells of expensive leather and his cologne, mixed with something chemical that makes you wrinkle your nose slightly. He slides into the driver's seat, his movements are precise despite the cocaine coursing through his system. The engine purrs to life, and he immediately reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he pulls away from your family's estate.

"You really do look fucking incredible tonight," he murmurs, his blue eyes flickering between you and the road. His thumb traces circles on your palm, a gesture that would seem sweet if not for the slight tremor in his hand. "That dress is driving me crazy." His rings catch the streetlights as you drive through Figure 8, passing other massive estates and perfectly manicured lawns.

"Thank you, baby," You respond softly, your free hand smoothing down the red fabric of your dress. "You clean up pretty nice yourself." You glance at him, admiring how the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp jawline. "So, are you going to tell me where we're going for dinner? You've been so secretive about tonight."

Rafe's grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. "It's a surprise, remember?" His voice carries that edge of control he can never quite hide. "But first..." He reaches behind your seat with his free hand, pulling out a small gift bag. "I got you something to wear at dinner." Inside is a delicate diamond necklace, the stones catching the light like tiny stars.

"Oh, Rafe," You breathe, reaching for the necklace. "It's beautiful. You didn't have to-" You are cut off by his laugh, that sharp sound that always makes your stomach flip. "Of course I did. Only the best for my girl." He pulls into a secluded spot overlooking the water, putting the truck in park. "Here, let me put it on you."

His hands are slightly unsteady as he fastens the necklace around your throat, his breath hot against your neck. "Perfect," he whispers, his fingers trailing down your spine. "Just like you'll be after tonight." There's something in his voice that makes you shiver, though you can't quite place why. "What do you mean?" you ask, turning to face him.

Rafe's eyes are darker now, pupils blown wide as he stares at you. "Just that I've got big plans for us, baby." His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Tonight's gonna change everything." He leans in closer, his other hand sliding up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I do," You whisper, even as something in your gut tells you something's off. You can feel his heart racing where your bodies are pressed together and you can smell something sharp and chemical on his breath beneath the mint. "Rafe, are you okay? You seem...different tonight."

"Never better," he responds, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Just excited to give you all your surprises." His hand moves higher up your thigh, possessive and demanding. "Now, how about we have a little drink before dinner? To celebrate Valentine's Day?" He reaches behind the seat again, pulling out an expensive bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Rafe pours the champagne with calculated precision, his hands steadier now as he hands you your specially prepared glass. The moonlight filtering through the truck's windows catches the diamond necklace at your throat, reminding him of how perfectly it marks you as his. His blue eyes track your every movement as you accept the glass, noting how the red fabric of your dress has ridden up slightly from your position.

"To us," he proposes, raising his glass with that dangerous smile playing at his lips. The cocaine makes everything feel more intense - the way your perfume fills the confined space of his truck, the soft sound of your breathing, the sight of your lips touching the rim of the glass. He watches intently as you take a sip, something predatory flickering in his eyes. "And to all the surprises tonight has in store."

"Mmm, this is really good," You comment, taking another sip. You don’t notice how Rafe barely touches his glass, too focused on watching your drink. "But shouldn't we head to dinner? We don't want to lose our reservation." You move to check the time on your phone, but Rafe's hand shoots out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with practiced possessiveness.

"We've got time," he assures you, his voice dropping lower as he leans closer. His free hand comes up to trace the line of the necklace, fingers ghosting over your collarbone. "Besides, I want to enjoy this moment. Just you and me." He can feel your pulse racing under his fingers where they press against your wrist. "Finish your drink, baby. Then we can talk about dinner."

He watches as you obediently take another sip, then another. "You know what I love about you, Y/N?" His voice is rough now, heavy with want and something darker. "How fucking perfect you are. How innocent." His fingers trace patterns on your inner thigh, making you shiver. "How you trust me completely."

"Rafe," you breathe, and he notices your words are slightly slurred now. Your eyes are starting to look unfocused as you blink slowly at him. "I feel... strange." The champagne glass slips from your fingers, but he catches it smoothly, setting it aside. His heart is racing with a mixture of cocaine-fueled excitement and dark anticipation.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, pulling you closer as you start to sway slightly. "I've got you. Always got you." His lips brush against your neck, just above the diamond necklace. "And after tonight, you'll always be mine. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving." His voice takes on that possessive edge that would normally frighten you, but the drugs in your system are making everything feel distant and hazy.

"What did you..." you try to ask, your head falling back against the seat as your limbs grow heavy. Rafe's hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the drugs take effect. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, making his expression look almost demonic as he smiles down at you.

"Just making sure tonight goes exactly as planned," he whispers, his other hand already reaching for the blankets he has stashed behind the seats. "Don't fight it, baby. Just let go. Let me take care of everything." His lips crash against yours, swallowing any protest you might have made as the drugs pull you deeper under their influence.

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your movements become increasingly sluggish, your normally bright eyes growing heavy-lidded and unfocused. He shifts in his seat, reaching to recline both of your seats back to create more space in the truck's cabin. The moonlight streaming through the windows casts ethereal shadows across your skin as he positions your body how he wants.

"Rafe..." you mumble, your voice thick and confused as he spreads the blankets beneath you. "What's happening? I feel so..." Your word trails off as he captures your lips in another possessive kiss, his hands already working at the zipper of your red dress.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers against your mouth, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. "Let me take care of you." His fingers trace the newly exposed skin of your back, savoring how you shiver under his touch despite your drugged state. "You look so fucking perfect like this. So helpless. So mine."

Rafe's hands slide possessively over your body as he peels the red dress from your drugged form, revealing the black underwear underneath. His blue eyes darken with predatory hunger as he drinks in the sight of you laid out beneath him in his truck, the diamond necklace glinting at your throat like a collar. The softness of your skin, the way your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath, the little whimpers that escape your lips as you try to fight through the fog in your mind.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, his voice rough with desire as his hands roam over your exposed flesh. "Just let it happen. You know you want this." His fingers trace the edge of your lacy bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the delicate fabric. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment. To make you completely mine."

"Rafe, please," You slurred, weakly trying to push at his chest. "Something's wrong... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth crashing against yours, his tongue forcing its way past your lips as his hand slides between your thighs. He groans when he feels how wet you are through your panties, his cock straining against his suit pants.

"Look how ready you are for me," he rubs circles against your clit through the lace. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind's trying to fight it." He pulls back to admire his handiwork - your lips swollen from his kisses, your pupils blown wide from the drugs, your chest heaving as you struggle to focus. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna put my baby in you tonight."

Rafe’s fingers hook into your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs as you weakly try to squeeze your thighs together. The moonlight catches on the wetness between your legs, making him groan. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he breathes, his fingers spreading you open. "All perfect and untouched. Not for long though." 

Rafe's fingers work methodically between your thighs, spreading your wetness as he watches your face contort with unwilling pleasure. His other hand pins your wrists above your head, his rings cold against your feverish skin. The truck's windows are starting to fog up from your heavy breathing, creating a private cocoon around you.

"That's it, baby," he growls, sliding two fingers into you, feeling how tight you are around them. "Gonna stretch you out nice and slow before I fuck a baby into you." His cock throbs painfully in his pants as he watches you arch beneath him, the drugs making you more responsive even as you try to resist.

"No... Rafe... please," You whimper, your head thrashing weakly against the leather seat. But your body betrays you, hips rocking against his skilled fingers as he finds that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as you gasp, reminding him of his ownership.

"Look at you, taking my fingers so well," he praises darkly, adding a third finger to stretch you further. "Can't wait to feel this tight little cunt around my cock." His thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles that make your whole body tremble. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Make sure my cum stays deep inside you until it takes."

The way your walls clench around his fingers, the little sounds you make as he works your body, the perfect arch of your back as you fight between pleasure and resistance. He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, biting down just hard enough to make you cry out.

"Please," you beg, though whether you're begging him to stop or continue, even you don’t know anymore. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing from his touch as the drugs make everything feel more intense. "Rafe... I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, curling his fingers inside you as his thumb speeds up on your clit. "Come on my fingers like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cock." His blue eyes are wild with possession as he watches you fall apart beneath him, knowing that after tonight, you’ll never be able to leave him. 

Rafe’s fingers work relentlessly between your thighs. His free hand moves from your wrists to grip your throat, right above the diamond necklace, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze my fingers."

Your body betrays you even as your mind tries to resist, waves of unwilling pleasure building under his skilled touch. The drugs make everything feel heightened - the stretch of his fingers inside you, the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the heat of his breath against your neck. Your legs start to tremble as you approach your peak.

"That's it, baby," He watches your face contort with pleasure and confusion. His cock strains painfully against his suit pants, demanding attention. But he forces himself to wait, to savor this moment of taking your innocence piece by piece. "Give it to me. Show me how good I make you feel."

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the truck's cabin, mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers working between your legs. Rafe's eyes are dark with possession as he watches you fight against the inevitable, knowing that each moment brings him closer to his ultimate goal. The moonlight catches on the sweat beading on your skin, making you glow ethereally.

"I... I can't..." You whimper, your back arching off the seat as pleasure builds to an unbearable level. The drugs make everything feel like too much and not enough all at once. "Rafe, please..." Your fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders. "You can, and you will," he commands, his voice taking on that dangerous edge that brooks no argument. His fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes you see stars while his thumb circles your clit with practiced precision. "Come for me now. Let me feel it."

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your body trembles beneath him, your back arching off the leather seat as pleasure builds. His fingers work relentlessly inside your pussy, stretching and preparing you for what's to come. The way your walls clench around his digits, the little gasps and moans you can't hold back, the perfect arch of your spine as you fight between resistance and ecstasy.

"That's my good girl," his free hand moving from your throat to grip your hair, forcing you to look at him. "Watch me while you come. Want to see those pretty eyes when I make you fall apart." His thumb continues its relentless assault on your clit as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your whole body shake.

Your eyes flutter open, glazed with drugs and unwilling pleasure. The moonlight catches the tears gathering in your lashes as you stare up at him, unable to look away from his intense blue gaze. Your lips part in a silent scream as the pressure builds to an unbearable level, your body tightening around his fingers.

"Please," Her hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, leaving crescent marks through his expensive shirt. "Rafe, I can't... it's too much..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, his voice rough with desire and dominance. "Come for me now, baby. Show me how good I make you feel." His fingers speed up inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the truck's cabin. "Let go. Let me see you fall apart before I fuck you properly."

The combination of his skilled fingers, the drugs in your system, and his commanding voice finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body goes rigid as pleasure crashes through you, walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers as you come with a broken cry of his name. 

"Beautiful," he breathes, working you through the aftershocks as you tremble beneath him. "But we're not done yet, baby. Not even close." His free hand moves to his belt, the sound of the buckle loud in the confined space. "Now it's time for the main event. Time to make you completely mine."

Rafe takes his time unbuckling his belt, the metallic sound echoing in the confined space of his truck. His blue eyes never leave your face as he watches you come down from your high, your body still trembling with aftershocks. Your chest heaves with each breath, the glisten of sweat on your skin, the slight quiver of your thighs as they remain spread for him.

"Look at you," he grunts, finally freeing his throbbing cock from his pants. "All fucked out from just my fingers, and we haven't even gotten to the best part yet." His hand wraps around his length, stroking slowly as he positions himself between your legs. The head of his cock brushes against your sensitive folds, making you whimper. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment."

"Rafe," You slur, your drugged mind struggling to focus as you feel his size pressing against your entrance. "Wait... I'm not ready..." Your weak protests only serve to fuel his desire, his grip tightening on your hip as he holds you in place. The diamond necklace at your throat catches the moonlight as you try to shift away.

"You're more than ready, baby," he counters, using his free hand to spread your wetness along his length. "Your body's begging for it. Been begging for it all night." He leans down, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss as he starts to push inside your entrance. The stretch is intense, making you gasp against his mouth. "Gonna make you take every fucking inch."

His cock inches forward slowly, savoring the way your walls resist his invasion. The truck's windows are completely fogged now, creating a private world for just the two of you. Rafe's breathing grows heavier as he feels your tight heat enveloping him, his control starting to slip. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave bruises. "Taking my cock so well, just like I knew you would."

Tears stream down your cheeks as he stretches you open, the mixture of pain and drugged pleasure making your head spin. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. "Almost there, baby," he pants against your neck, his hips still pushing forward relentlessly. "Just a little more and you'll have all of me." His free hand slides between them to rub your clit, knowing the added stimulation will help your body accept him. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum, make sure it takes. Make sure you can never leave me."

Rafe's hips finally meet yours as he bottoms out inside you, a groan of satisfaction rumbling deep in his chest. Your walls flutter around his length as you adjust to being completely filled for the first time. The truck's cabin is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the leather seats creaking beneath them with each subtle movement.

"There we go," he pants against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands grip your hips possessively as he holds himself still, savoring the moment. "Been dreaming about this for so fucking long, baby. About claiming you completely." You whimper beneath him, your mind is hazy from the drugs as your body struggles to accommodate his size. Tears continue to stream down your cheeks, your fingers clutch weakly at his shoulders as you feel him throb inside you.

"Please," you manage to gasp, though your drugged state makes it hard to form coherent thoughts. "It's too much... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth capturing yours in a demanding kiss, his tongue invading your mouth just as his cock has invaded your body.

"Yes, you can," his hips starting to move in shallow thrusts. "And you will. Gonna fuck a baby into you tonight, make sure you can never leave me." His movements gradually become deeper, and more purposeful, as he establishes a rhythm. "Watch me while I do it. Want to see those pretty eyes when I breed you." One hand slides from your hip to grip your jaw, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he fucks into you. "That's it," he praises darkly as your body starts to respond despite your protests. "Take it like a good girl. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock."

Rafe's movements become more intense, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force as he chases his release. The truck rocks with your movements, his hands grip your hips bruisingly tight as he pounds into you, watching with dark satisfaction as pleasure and pain war across your drugged features.

"Fuck, you feel perfect," he groans, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat just above the diamond necklace. "So fucking tight around my cock. Like you were made for this." His thumb traces your bottom lip as he continues his relentless pace. "Made to take my cum, to carry my baby."

Your head thrashes weakly against the leather seat, your body overwhelmed by the mix of drugs and unwilling pleasure. Your walls clench around him involuntarily as another orgasm builds, making him grunt with satisfaction. "That's it, baby," he praises darkly. "Squeeze my cock just like that. Show me how much your body wants this." His free hand moves between them to rub your clit, determined to make you come around his cock. "Gonna fill you up so good," he pants, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he nears his release. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it takes. Make sure everyone knows you belong to me." His fingers speed up on your clit as he feels your walls starting to flutter. "Come for me now, baby. Let me feel that tight little pussy milk my cock."

Rafe's grip tightens on your hips as he feels his release building, his thrusts becoming more desperate and erratic. "That's it, baby," feeling your walls clench around him as another orgasm builds in your drugged body. "Come on my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cum." Your back arches off the seat as pleasure crashes through you against your will, your walls squeezing his length rhythmically. The sight of you coming undone beneath him finally pushes Rafe over the edge. With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your pussy. "Fuck," he pants against your neck, grinding his hips to ensure his cum stays deep inside. "All mine now."

He collapses on top of you for a moment, both of you catching your breath in the steamy confines of his truck. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as he finally pulls out, watching with dark satisfaction as his release drips from your used pussy. "No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. You're stuck with me now, baby." Without a word, he starts fixing his clothes, already planning your next encounter in his mind. 

"Let's get you home, baby," he says, his voice rough as he helps you dress on shaky legs. "Don't want your daddy getting suspicious." His hand rests possessively on your thigh as he starts the truck, knowing that after tonight, everything has changed. The drive back is silent except for your occasional whimpers, the drugs still making your head fuzzy as she processes what just happened.

A week later,  

Rafe lounges against his truck at the Boneyard, The beach is relatively empty at this hour, just a few surfers catching the last waves of the day. His blue eyes track your movement, noting how pale you look, and how your usual confident stride seems shakier. A smirk plays at his lips, though he keeps his expression carefully neutral.

"Hey baby," he calls out, pushing off the truck to meet you. His hands immediately find your waist, pulling you close as he studies your face. "You sounded weird on the phone. Everything okay?" The concern in his voice is perfectly crafted, masking the satisfaction he feels as he takes in your distressed state.

Your hands tremble as you pull away from his embrace, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. "Rafe, I... I need to tell you something." Your voice cracks slightly as you speak, tears already gathering in your eyes. "I went to the doctor today..."

"What's wrong?" Rafe steps closer, his hand coming up to cup your face with practiced gentleness. Inside, his heart races with anticipation, but his expression remains one of innocent concern. "You've been sick all week. Did they figure out what's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant," you whisper, the words carried away by the ocean breeze. Your eyes search his face desperately for any sign of recognition, any hint that he remembers your Valentine's night. "But I don't... I can't remember... The last thing I clearly remember is having champagne in your truck..."

Rafe's eyes widen in perfectly feigned shock, his hand dropping from your face as he takes a step back. "You're... what?" He runs a hand through his hair, the picture of a young man receiving unexpected news. "But we've never... I mean, I thought you wanted to wait?" His voice carries just the right amount of confusion and disbelief.

"That's just it," Your voice rises slightly, panic evident in your tone. "I don't remember! Valentine's Day is just... fuzzy. But the doctor said I'm about a week along, and you're the only one I've been with..." you trail off, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks.

Rafe pulls you into his arms, hiding his triumphant smile in your hair. "Shh, it's okay," he soothes, one hand moving to rest possessively over your still-flat stomach. "We'll figure this out together. I'm here for you, baby. Always." His voice drops lower, taking on that dangerous edge you're too distraught to notice. "Guess those college applications won't be necessary anymore, huh?"

His hand tightens possessively around your waist as you tremble against him, his other hand still resting on your stomach where his child is growing. The setting sun casts long shadows across the beach, the sound of waves providing a backdrop to your quiet sobs. His blue eyes gleam with dark satisfaction as he feels you collapse further into his embrace, exactly where he wants you.

"What am I going to tell my parents?" You whisper against his chest, your voice breaking. "My dad... he's going to kill me. And all my college plans..." You pull back slightly to look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks. "Rafe, I can't remember anything from that night. How did this happen?"

Rafe's jaw clenches as he maintains his facade of confusion and concern. "Hey, look at me," he demands softly, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Your parents love you. And my family... well, Ward's always talking about wanting grandkids." His thumb wipes away your tears as he studies your face. "Maybe this is a good thing, you know? You and me, starting our own family."

"But I had plans," you protest weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt. "Harvard, Yale... I was supposed to get out of Outer Banks..." You don’t even notice how his grip tightens painfully at your words or the flash of possessive anger in his eyes.

"Fuck those plans," he growls, before quickly softening his tone. "I mean, things change, right? Sometimes for the better." His hand slides up to cup your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "You've got me now. Got us. Isn't that better than some fancy college where you don't know anyone?" He’s super hyper-focused on every detail - the way you unconsciously lean into his touch, how your body fits perfectly against his, the slight swell of your breasts that's already becoming noticeable. His other hand remains possessively on your stomach, imagining how it will grow with his child.

"I'm scared," You admit, your voice small against the sound of crashing waves. "Everything's happening so fast, and I can't remember... that night is just blank, Rafe. Doesn't that bother you?" You search his face for any sign of recognition, any hint of guilt.

But Rafe's expression remains carefully crafted a mixture of concern and determination. "What bothers me is seeing you upset," he lies smoothly, pulling you closer. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You and me and our baby. "No more talk about leaving, though. You belong here, with me. Got it?"

"We should tell our parents soon," he says, his voice carrying that edge of control he can never quite hide. "Get everything out in the open. But first, promise me something, baby. Promise me you'll stop looking at those college applications."

Your eyes widen with fresh tears as you stare up at him. "But Rafe, I can't just give up everything I've worked for..." Your voice trails off as his grip tightens slightly on your chin, his blue eyes darkening with barely contained possession.

"Those dreams were for the old Y/N," he states firmly, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "The one who didn't have a family to think about. Things are different now." His other hand presses harder against your stomach, a reminder of what's growing inside of you. "You've got bigger responsibilities. To me. To our baby."

The waves crash against the shore behind them as silence stretches between them. Rafe can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers where they rest against your throat and can see the moment you start to break under the weight of reality. His plan is working perfectly - soon you’ll be completely his, tied to him forever through your child.

"I... I need time to think," You finally whisper, trying to step back from his embrace. But Rafe's grip remains firm, keeping you close as the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon. His expression shifts into something darker, more possessive.

"No more thinking," One of his hands slid up to tangle in your hair. "No more plans that don't include me. You're mine now, Y/N. The sooner you accept that, the better." His voice carries a threat wrapped in velvet as he stares down at you. "Or should we talk about how convenient it is that you can't remember Valentine's Day?"

Rafe's threat hangs heavy in the air as your face drains of color. His fingers tighten in your hair, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. The darkened beach feels suddenly oppressive as he towers over your trembling form.

"What... what do you mean?" You whisper, your voice is small and frightened as you search his face. The familiar warmth in his blue eyes has been replaced by something cold and calculating that makes your stomach turn.

"You really want to know what happened that night?" he asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. His hand slides from your stomach to your hip possessively. "Want me to tell you exactly how I made sure you'd never leave me? How I watched you drink that champagne, knowing what was in it?"

You try to pull away, but his grip is iron-tight as realization dawns on your face. "No," she breathes, shaking her head in denial. "You wouldn't... you couldn't..." But the predatory smile spreading across his face tells you everything you need to know.

"I did," he confirms, pulling you closer until your faces are inches apart. "And now you're carrying my baby. No more college applications. No more dreams of leaving. You're mine forever now, baby." His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek with mock tenderness. "And if you ever think about telling anyone... well, who's going to believe the girl who can't remember her own Valentine's Day?"

The waves crash behind them as your world crumbles around you. You can feel the weight of the promise ring on your finger - once a symbol of love, now feeling more like a shackle. Rafe watches you process everything with dark satisfaction, knowing he's won completely.

"Why?" you finally manage to ask through your tears, your voice breaking on the single word. The hand in your hair tightens as Rafe's expression turns almost tender, though his eyes remain cold.

"Because you're mine," he states simply as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I take care of what's mine. You'll see, baby. This is better than any fancy college could ever be." His hand moves to rest on your stomach again, possessive and threatening all at once. "Our little family, together forever in Outer Banks. Just like it should be."

[visdollie]

can you write a vi x f!reader where vi absolutely does not care how hard she fucks you? i figure she doesn’t realize her own strength at times, after training her whole life. and i want to be on the receiving end of that 🤤

will do cutie!!

there are a countless amount of things you love about your girlfriend, vi. you could write a novel about it, but at the top of the list it’d be her body.

it almost hurts you; her toned, beefy biceps sticky with sweat after working out (kicking peoples ass), or even just lifting you up to reach the upper cabinets.

how badly she made you wet in a simple black wife beater. how defined the curves of her abs were in a compression shirt. you couldnt handle it.

and she knew too, atleast you thought she did.

during you and your girlfriends first time, she was gentle and soft on you, and even that was too much for you to handle. her girthy thick fingers pressing into your warm, spongy walls; the way your pussy dripped onto her abs as you rode them. you came in less than 5 minutes that night.

vi didnt know realize how much of an affect sex with her had on you. you swore it was all on purpose when she’d lick you out till tears welled up in your eyes, or when she’d manhandle you on her strap thats half the size of her arm. yeah, even her strap was huge.

you weren’t complaining, though. you went back begging her to fuck you silly every single time, which got you stuck in this situation.

“baby.. please, its-“ you were cut off by a third finger being pushed into your glossy cunt, making your back arch off against her chest. she’d made you cum a good four times, to the point where your eyes were dried out of tears.

you settled between her legs with your knees propped up, your hands full of the damp sheets and one of her arms caging you down by your hip to make sure you wouldn’t run.

her thumb was focused on your clit as she rubbed at the sticky bud vigorously. it was messy; cum and spit everywhere, strings of loud whines leaving your mouth.

vi’s piercing smokey, blue eyes stared down at your cunt, grinning at your fucked out face. “dont wanna hear that mess angel, nuhuh. you better take it. you look so pretty..” her praise made you whine.

to her, it was a regular fuck. nothing too bad, but she had no idea what she was doing to you.

the deeper she pressed into you made you keen loudly n pout your lips in overstimulation. “fuck, vi.. c..cant cum anymore..” your voice grew breathier the closer you got to your fifth orgasm. she gripped your face, tilting it n bringing it close to hers as she licked up your tears from your jaw all the way down to your collarbone.

“too much? you’re okay, baby. just wanna make you feel good.” vi apologized wordlessly by pinching and rubbing at your nipples with her free hand. she selfishly stared at your hips struggling, fucking a fourth finger into you as she pounded them in like a jackhammer.

vi’s fingers were sore n cramped from fucking into you at such a relentless pace.

her fingers moved in and out of you at a speed that almost made you dizzy. you swore you’d pass out if you went on for any longer, but you handled it for her.

you could feel how soaked she was through her underwear just by your noises alone. the shifting n squirming around; your ass rubbing against her clit made soft groans leave her lips.

“gon..gonna cum..” vi sped up her rough thrusts at your whimpers, kissing down your neck.

she used her free hand to spread your thighs farther open, whispering a “dont think i wanna let you cum, pretty,” in your ear. an immediate whine left your throat.

vi loved prelonging your orgasms. she loved the thought of having complete control over your sensitive body. it was almost a misson of hers to take over your brain everytime you two fucked. she wanted to ruin you, make her your little doll.

you didnt know how much more you could take. it was just mean how rough she was being.

right before you could tap out, she pulled her fingers out of you slowly, watching a string of your creamy juices connect your pussy to her fingers.

a long, drawn out huff left your lips as you caught your breath and tried to regain your composure. “you’re a fuckin beast, vi. fuck..”

she giggled at your comment and planted a kiss on your forehead, getting off the bed and digging around in her bedside drawer. you already knew what was coming.

“vi.. please-“ “shh.” she cut you off as she pulled out her strap.

“you thought we were done baby? cute. cmon, you can handle more.”

a highly expected whine spilt from your lips— mouth opening to oppose, but you knew there was no point. you just had to listen to her.

you spread your legs, hissing at the soreness in your pussy and inner thighs, and clasped onto the sheets prepared for more hours of torture.

it was gonna be a long fucking night.

@ visdollie 2025

srry if this was bad!!