#he had to wear them so that killer would shut up about it

[xnzlian]

He looks VERY happy💅👗👠

Princess Slaymare belongs to Jokublog Killer belongs to RahafWabas

[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (Three)

CW: Someone breaks into your garden but nothing violent occurs (beside Simon having a gun), u share a bed (nothing happens yet sorry...), simon also has very perverted thoughts about you and wants to act on them very badly!!!!

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

Note: sorry I haven’t been posting as much I’ve been out 24/7!!!!! I will make up for it 🥲 sorry if this is bad

Your fingers coiled into a tight fist, ramming against the door with obscene force. You weren’t even 100% sure what time it was, or if he would answer but you were desperate and scared. Simon’s eyes jolted open at the disturbance, groaning in annoyance as he rolled out of bed. His body was clad with loose checkered sleep shorts, his hip bones peeking out as he etched towards the noise.

Beady pools of brown leaned into the peephole, the sight of you nearly sending him into anaphylactic shock as he took in your appearance. Your cleavage was plush against the silken material, nipples pearling under the twilight. His cock chubbed as he took you in briefly before he opened the door, your eyes wide with… fear?

“Simon, I’m so sorry, I’m-“ You stammered over your words, rushing frantically back and forth as you rubbed your arms anxiously, your hair raised with the static of consternation.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” His tone was curt, almost confused as he took in your frantic state. What on earth could you need him for at this time of night?

“There’s someone in my backyard.”

Simon looked at you briefly, taking in what you said before reacting, pushing you inside as you stumbled to the couch. He moved with urgency, grabbing you by the arm and leading you to his bedroom as he ordered you to stay put, digging around in his nightstand before feverish hands wrapped around carbon steel, the all too familiar feel of a gun sending his body into over-drive as he slammed his door shut.

You panted, your heart exceeding against the walls of your rib cage, creasing through every crevice as your throat wound up, not only at the intruder but how it was almost second nature for Simon to protect you, to kill for you if needed. Were guns even legal here?

Your back was flush against his singular pillow, your thighs nestled together before a small gasp left your lip. You weren’t even wearing panties. Jesus Christ. You were in your hot neighbour’s house, in his bed, panty-less. You almost laughed at how cliché it was, and if the timing had been better, maybe you wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable by it, but you were scared.

What if the man next door was a serial killer and he took out Simon and was coming for you next? What if he was out to get you? What if the police don’t come in time and he gets away? Simon wouldn’t let that happen, you thought to yourself. Who were you kidding? You barely knew Simon.

Your hands pooled with sweat as you rubbed them together, your head now caged in by his pillow. The silence was perpetual, almost suffocating, the hairs in your ear tickling your nerves as you closed your eyes, praying for the sound of sirens or even yelling.

You felt like you had been here for hours, your muscles locked up, spine tense with perturbation, nails drawing blood at the flesh of your exposed thigh, the light patter of hair standing up straight as you listened to the sound of your breathing, the agitation and struggle behind it.

It was soft but you heard it — the normally dreadful sound of sirens, etching closer and closer by the second as your taughtened limbs relaxed slightly, the sound of Simon’s voice calling out to you, almost as if he was permitting you to move. Your bare feet padded against the floor; your arms self-unconsciously wrapped around your chest as you were greeted by bright, blaring lights.

You watched as a man was handcuffed, his skin a deep olive, arms littered with tattoos and a deep scar that ran from his wrist to elbow. His eyes were almost violent, a putrid green staring into your soul, almost swallowed whole by his pupils. You felt chills as he turned to face you, pointy canines lashing out of his thin lips, the stained colour glistening with spit as his voice sounded out to you, “I’m sorry Ma’am, got the wrong house, you see. Didn’t mean you any harm.”

He was ushered into the back of the cop car, your throat parched as your eyes narrowed in on the intruder, your breathing still shallowed as you felt a cold hand placed on your shoulder. Your body reacted, skin crawling with fear as you turned to look at Simon. You took in his face, the tone of pink that flushed his lips, the blonde lashes that concealed his bistre eyes, the slight imperfections in his skin that made him more masculine.

You read his lips, your ears ringing with a deafening tone as you grounded yourself.

“Y’ alright?”

“I- Uh, I guess. I don’t know. It was scary, I was- caught up in something and I looked out the window and just saw a figure. I’m sorry for d-“

“Don’t apologise. I’m glad you came to me, I’m sorry if I scared you.. with the gun and all. I, uh, work in the military so it’s kind of second nature to me.”

You were right. He did work in the military. You smiled, almost too softly, the crease of your cheeks barely evident but he noticed it. His eyes milked in how nervous you looked, how frightened your body stood and how thankful you were that he was able to help you. Simon didn’t join the military to protect neighbours, even the pretty ones, but he was sure glad it gave him the ability to do so.

The night dragged on, a female cop with rugged eyes grabbing a statement from you before they finally deemed it okay to go, patrolling the man off for further questioning. You felt almost relieved. You should feel better now. It was over and you were safe but the reaction your body felt towards the man wasn’t normal, the way your skin crawled, almost as if infested internally, bugs burrowing between your veins.

Simon’s voice cut your thoughts off again, his hand on the small of your back as your eyes connected. He could read the fear in them, the way your irises dilated, and your lashes burrowed into slick eyelids.

“Y’ gonna be alright tonight?” He asked, his body standing tall as he looked down on you. He felt like shrinking, his spine folding so he could feel less intimidating, to seem more caring, compassionate even.

Your tongue stilled, tying a knot in your mouth as you stuttered over the pools of spit that coiled between your teeth. “I think so.” Your tone was hesitant, your legs shaking against the porch as you rubbed your arms with both hands.

“Do you- Do you wanna sleep at mine tonight? I’ll take the couch.”

Your eyes met Simon’s, lapping in the sincerity that rattled between each syllable he spoke. “Oh no! I couldn’t possibly put you off anymore, I don’t want to cause any more disturbance, you’ve done enough.”

“I promise it’s no effort, it would make me feel better anyway if I thought you were more comfortable here.”

“Are you sure?” Your voice was small as you shuffled nervously. Surprisingly, he smiled, pushing his front door open further as you huddled in. You took in the atmosphere once more, noting how clean it was, how untouched. He set up his room for you, offering you another blanket to which you politely declined, your body felt like molten lava, pure heat scorching through your skin as you settled onto the mattress. You watched the way his body contracted, finally being able to admire the way his muscles flexed, arms stained with a plethora of drawn ink. His back was rough, detailed with a litter of scars, supported by his burly physique.

“Simon,” you called out as he began to shut the door. His eyebrow perked. “I feel bad about you sleeping on the couch. I- I don’t mind sharing, I don’t want to be weird, I just feel like I’m taking away your bed.”

“Just want you to be comfortable, love, that’s all.”

You patted the sheets next to you, offering him a smile, the light rosiness of your cheeks visible in the soft shimmer of the moonlight. Your body curled to the side, your back to him as you whispered a soft ‘good night’. It was strange. You had shared a bed with previous partners, but it never felt like this. Maybe it was the taboo of it all, your body heat melting into the sheets of your neighbour who you had only properly met yesterday.

Your thighs knocked together, settling at the edge of the bed as you shut your eyes, lashes flickering open occasionally when you were greeted with the eerie sight of the man who broke into your backyard.

Simon struggled to sleep too, his cock throbbing as he faced you. He took in the way your hair fell softly against the apple of your cheek, and the way your eyes would open on occasion which he assumed was due to nerves. He took in the way your nightgown had ridden up the back of your thighs, your legs coiled together in an attempt to not break his personal space.

He almost felt like flushing up against you, letting you feel the ache of his member, the way his tip leaked with pearly pre-cum, staining his sleep shorts. His fingers nearly reached out, pulling your legs apart to rock his tongue into your bare cunt, fucking your entrance with vigour as you soaked his muscle with your slick. He wanted to split you open on his cock, let his length stain your walls with every vein that flushed his shaft, spilling his hot seed into your womb as you begged him for more.

But he didn’t. He just turned around.

[muwapsturniolo]

✯Want to play Psycho Killer?✯

BLACK READER!!!!!!!

Summary: Chris realizes his girlfriend has a thing for a certain masked killer, and feeds into her fantasy.

warning: NSFW content, thirsting after Ghostface, CNC (kind of lmao) unprotected sex, whatever kink it is where you get fucked while the other person wears a mask, overstimulation, choking, vibrators, titty slapping, squirting,

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

Chris was a very attentive boyfriend.

He noticed everything about his girlfriend. He noticed how her eyes crinkled when she smiled, how her nose would scrunch when she laughed. He noticed how she would stick her tongue out when she was focused on something.

He was attentive.

So attentive to the point that he noticed she would clench her thighs and take deep breaths when watching a certain movie.

That movie being Scream.

He decided to turn on Scream one day since he and his brothers were going to the premier of the fifth movie in a few weeks. It was his girl's favorite movie, and he'd never seen it, so he figured it would be a great date night. As they watched the first movie, he noticed she kept moving around, adjusting the way she was sitting.

"You ok?" He asked her. All she did was nod and keep watching the movie. The next date night they watched the second movie, it was the same thing but a bit toned down.

Same with the third, and the fourth.

he had a theory that she loved the first movie more than the others.

He decided to test his theory one last time by turning on the first movie once again.

His theory was proven when she basically jumped him midway through the movie, and they had sex on the couch.

His theory was proven once again when he saw her bookmarks on TikTok. Multiple videos of guys in Ghostface masks, choking their girlfriends.

He knew what she wanted, and he planned on giving it to her.

For his plan to work, he had to get her alone. He had texted her around 30 minutes ago and asked if she was home. He proceeded to tell her he was coming over and to relax when she sees him.

He didn’t know if she would freak out or not, but he had a feeling she would play along.

He unlocks her front door and walks inside, closing it softly. He pulls the mask over his head and slowly ascends up the stairs, being quiet so she won't hear him. He peeks into her room and sees her lying down on her stomach, distracted by her phone. She had on a thong and one of her babydoll dresses. He inches into the room, coming up behind her.

She feels a presence looming behind her. Before she can look over her shoulder, her head is roughly pushed into the comforter. She screams in shock and drops her phone, thrashing around in fright.

He yanks her head up by her hair and whispers from behind the mask,

“Want to play psycho killer?”

She tenses hearing Chris’s voice. She looks into the reflection of her lamp on her nightstand and sees he’s on top of her, a mask covering his face.

But not just any mask

A Ghostface mask.

“W-what?” She stutters out, too caught off guard to understand anything.

“I said, do you want to play psycho killer?” He flips them around and kicks her legs apart, his right hand moving up her thigh, getting dangerously close to her embarrassingly wet cunt. He allows his hand to move her thong to the side and swipe through her folds, gathering her glistening juices on his finger. She whimpers and tries to close her legs, failing due to him being in the way. He smirks under the mask and tilts his head to the side.

"You can be the helpless victim."

He slips two fingers into her, watching as her eyes gently flutter shut. He glides his finger in and out, teasing her by moving slowly. Soft moans and whimpers tumbling out of her plump lips. He picks up the pace, his fingers moving faster. His left-hand travels up to her neck and tightly wraps around it, "come on baby, say the next line." He urges.

It's nearly impossible for her to speak. The way his long and nimble fingers nudge against the right spot constantly, his left hand squeezing her throat like she loves.

"Please?" She weakly pleads. Chris chuckles and yanks her upright and forward, a noise leaving her throat. "that's not what I want to hear baby, you know your line."

His fingers move even faster, "how are you going to be in the sequel if you can't even remember your lines?" he taunts.

She throws her head back and moans out, feeling her orgasm close.

"Say it or I stop right now!" he threatens.

"Fuck! Please d-dont kill me Mr. Ghostface! I want to be in the sequel!" she pleads helplessly.

"Since you asked so nicely." He begins to ram his fingers into her, curling them repeatedly. Not caring if she could feel his lips or not, she begins to make out with him. Her red lipstick smudges all over the mouth of the mask.

Making out with your boyfriend who is dressed up as a masked serial killer? it's not the most erotic thing they have done, but it is the most taboo.

He feels her walls clenching around his fingers and he presses his thumb against her clit, rubbing it in circles. She yelps and throws her head back as her orgasm washes over her.

Instead of removing his fingers, he keeps going, stroking her velvety walls. "Shi-Chris wait!'' She tries to push his hand away, but he forces her down and keeps going. She withers and whines at the overstimulation, her thighs shaking as he continues the assault on her clit.

It hits her fast, her eyes clenching shut and her back arching.

He removes his fingers and yanks her closer by her legs. She watches with hazy eyes as he begins to pull his pants down, just enough for him to release his aching dick.

Usually, he would give her a few moments to regain her strength, but he doesn't want her to.

He wants to fuck her to the brink of exhaustion.

"Chris ple- nghhh" he cuts her off by slipping into her, her walls sucking him up just right. He snaps his hips, pulling a high-pitched squeal from the girl beneath him. A devious smirk crosses his face as he drills his hips against hers.

He's relentless in his action, going hard and deep. "Don't act like you don't want it. if you didn't want it you wouldn't have been getting turned on by a fucking movie." He taunts in a raspy voice.

All she can do in return is moan and open her legs wider, proving him correct. He grabs her calves, pushing her legs closer to her chest, going even deeper than before.

This position only lasts a few minutes until she's creaming all over him, her body spazzing at the overwhelming sensation. Her eyes are clenched shut, her chest rising and falling quickly as she tries to regain her breath.

Her body lurches feeling a strong vibration on her clit. Her eyes fly open and she sees Chris holding her rose toy against her clit. She can't get any words out, only pathetic moans and small screams as it all becomes too much for her. He begins to thrust once again, adding even more pleasure.

"Fuck- look at you taking me so well. I knew you would. I saw the way you would squeeze your legs together, and now you're squeezing me the same way, such a fucking whore." He groans, his hips stuttering in the process. He's close to cumming but he wants to wait for her last orgasm.

He looks at her, taking in her fucked out face. The makeup she had on now ruined, from the tears of pleasure running down her face.

He turns the vibration up, drawing a loud scream from the girl, her thighs clenching as her fourth orgasm rushes through her core. He chuckles and pulls out, leaning forward so he can whisper in her ear, "You're doing so well for me, maybe you will be in the sequel." He runs his finger through her sensitive folds, making her whine out.

he smirks at the noise and slaps her clit, a choked moan leaving her throat. He chuckles and sits up, pulling her with him. "you gonna give me one more?" she shakes her head, too sensitive to have another orgasm. He shakes his head with her, mocking her as he laughs softly.

"Yes you can, and you will."

He slaps her cunt once again, before forcing her into his favorite position.

Face down, ass up.

He looks at her ass, rubbing his hands over it as her Grool runs down her leg. He lands a smack to her ass, enjoying the yelp that tumbles from her raw lips. She tries to pull away from him but he gently yanks her back, "Stop running baby, I'll go slow. Is that what you want?" he coos. She responds with a weak hum of agreement.

He lines himself up, slipping back inside her warm velvety walls.

Her eyes roll into the back of her head, her fingers weakly gripping her bedding tightly.

He moves slowly at first, dragging out his thrust, before pushing deep inside her, nudging against her cervix. She whimpers at the feeling, trying to pull away as this whole session becomes too much for her. He plants his hands on her waist, gripping her harshly as he pulls her back on his dick. he speeds up, all thoughts of going slow out the window. She reaches back behind her and tries to stop the assault against her aching walls.

"Why are you running baby, this is what you wanted right? You wanted me to fuck you, dressed up like a killer."

She whines and weakly tries to push him away.

He grunts and smacks her arm away, " You can take it, be a good girl, and take it." She tries to push him away once again.

Out of frustration, he grabs her torn-up thong and yanks both her arms behind her, tying her wrists together.

He uses her bound wrists as an anchor and starts plowing into her harder than he ever has before. Her body lurches forward with each thrust, shaking and arching deeper into the mattress.

Her sobs fill the room, matching each and every single one of his harsh movements. He grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her up and pressing their bodies together. He harshly grabs her breasts, twisting her nipples before landing a hard smack to the bouncing flesh. She lets out a mix of a sob and a moan. He pants and moans in her ear as he sneaks the vibrator towards her clit.

A burning sensation swelled at the pit of her stomach, snapping just as quick as it came.

She lets out a horror movie-like scream, and propels herself forward, landing face-first in the sheets. Her vision goes black as her juices splash beneath them.

Chris groans at the sight of squirting and quickly fills her up, his seed spilling out of her as he pulls out.

He grabs his phone and opens up the camera, hitting record. He grabs her hair and lifts her head up, shoving the camera in front of her.

Her eyes are halfway closed, her makeup smeared as if she has caught in the rain, and there's drool running out the corner of her mouth.

she was fucked out just like he wanted her to be.

"Smile gorgeous, you're going to be in the sequel."

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

I have such a thing for Ghostface it's honestly concerning😭 like i fr made my old sneaky link wear the mask one day 🤪

TAGLIST🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007

[innerfare]

Smutty Captain Kid Headcanons - Part 1 

Summary: A collection of NSFW headcanons for Eustass Kid

Genre: Smut

CW: oral sex, threesomes, cuckolding, exhibitionism, dirty talk, mean dom Kid, toys, piercings, spanking

———

Man is a f-r-e-a-k. 

Seriously high libido. He’s hard more often than he’s not. If you’re going to be fucking him, you’re going to be logging some real overtime. And he’s serious about getting off, too. Turns into an absolute fiend if he has blue balls, takes it out on the entire crew. Everyone knows when the captain didn’t get off the night before. Basically can’t function without a blowjob.  

Loves a good challenge. All about the chase.

Went through a phase where he wasn’t interested in sleeping with women unless he could get two at a time. His face and cock buried in pussy is his perfect night. Would happily drown in the pussy if he could. 

Definitely enjoys cuckolding other men. Is the definition of a bull. But while he likes bedding a woman behind her boyfriend or husband’s back, he prefers to make them watch. If the boyfriend/husband is a marine or government bureaucrat, it’s even better.

Has definitely had his dick sucked by marines before, both male and female. Has joked about his wanted poster being a nude.

Never shuts up in bed. It’s a running commentary, him goading, teasing, and bullying you. Tells you to stop being such a crybaby when he’s fucking you. “You told me you could take it, so you’re gonna fucking take it.” “What’s wrong? Embarrassed by how wet you are? Because you should be.” “Of course it’s too big, but you’ll cum on it anyway.” Definitely calls you his dumb little fuck bunny. Can be really mean when he makes you cum. And just when it’s about too much, he says something nice. “You have the cutest pussy.” “You taste so sweet.” “You’re such a good girl.” When he’s saying mean things, he’ll sometimes stroke your cheek with his thumb or place sweet kisses on your body. 

If you do end up in a relationship with this man, you might just live to regret it because all of his attention is going to be on you. And that’s a lot. 

Gives you a pair of metal bracelets. Dumbly, you think they’re just a sweet gift (Kid? Giving a sweet gift?) so you put them on without a second thought. Next thing you know, the bracelets are stuck to a wall, you can’t get them off, and Kid is ripping your clothes off like a little kid opening a birthday present. Is so proud of himself for this one, too. As much as you complain, you never take the bracelets off after that. Killer figures out pretty quickly why you now wear a metal band on each wrist, and sometimes an extra set around your ankles; gets drunk one night and confides in you that he’s a little jealous; when you ask him if he’s jealous of you or Kid in this scenario, he says, “both.”  

Has had so many threesomes with Killer he's lost count. The two have an agreement to always share when asked (one veto per year). Dating Kid basically means being in a throuple with Killer, and fucking Kid definitely means getting fucked by Killer. Killer is even allowed to fuck you without Kid present (but you have to tell Kid about it or else he gets jealous).

Has definitely written his name in lipstick on your tits before.

Really into toys. Has tied you up and left you with a vibrator between your legs several times. 

Used his devil fruit power to shoot needles through your nipples, piercing them the way he’d always wanted. Has bought you a variety of pretty nipple rings since then- a pair with several opals dangling from each end, a pair of black shields, cute butterfly barbells with amethyst wings, a pair with onyx coffins on the ends. His favorite pair are the ones with little ruby cherries; he pretended they were cheap but he actually spent a fortune on them (the rubies are pigeon blood, very high quality) because he just couldn’t pass them up. Actually came in his pants the first time he saw them poking through your thin shirt, forbade you from going braless after that. One of his favorite things in the world is putting new rings in, to the point he forbids you from switching them on your own. Loves to use his devil fruit power to tug on them when he’s fucking you.  

Speaking of rules, he has quite a few, mostly because he gets very jealous. In addition to no going braless, you can’t wear your hair off the ship in pigtails (every time you do, a man in town hits on you and Kid just has to fight him), you can’t eat ice cream in public, and if you want to wear that one top- the skintight plaid one with cutouts- you have to pay the blowjob tax (Kid really enjoys cumming in the boob cutout). If you break the rules, you won’t be able to sit for a week. You often break the rules. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 5

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +7.4K 🤦🏽‍♀️

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), angst, P in V, oral (female receiving), Dom!Terry, CNC (roleplay fantasy "r-word")

A/N: I don't know how many parts there will be. However, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋

6 months later ~ Halloween night

“Girl, why the fuck does this man have y'all stayin’ way the fuck out here?” Monica asked while driving. “That's the point. He knows I love the country. Plus, it so fuckin’ peaceful out here,” I said laughing. “’Vana, this is a serial killer's dream. Two black people in the middle of nowhere!” she blurted.

Tonight, we all went to a Halloween party as a group— Monica, Jordan, Terry, and I. The party was thrown at a warehouse downtown. It was fuckin' amazing. I had never had that much fun before. Terry even seemed to really enjoy himself, but he got sick at some point. He let me know that he was leaving early. I offered to go with him, but he declined. After he left, I tried my best to have fun but couldn't stop worrying about him. He wasn't answering my calls or texts which was strange.

I leaned over while sitting in the car. I unstrapped my heels and pulled them off. I was wearing a sexy schoolgirl costume that left nothing to the imagination. We agreed to dress up as a couple with Terry being a nerdy school professor. Our costumes made much more sense when we stood near each other, so I spent most of the night by his side.

Monica drove down the gravel driveway of the large farmhouse. Pulling to the front porch, I realized all the lights were off. It was eerily quiet— almost too quiet. Terry must have actually been sick if he had gone to bed this early. Monica's car came to a stop. She looked out into the field and stared at the barn. “This really is some serial killer type shit!” she said shaking her head. “Shut up!” I said laughing at her remarks. Monica was definitely on edge.

“I'm so done with you,” I said grabbing my heels before getting out of the car. “Just call me or text me. I wanna make sure you're safe. This shit so creepy,” she said scrunching up her nose and looking around. “Okay, scaredy cat,” I said leaning back into the window tickling her neck. “Terry is big and all, but not Texas Chainsaw Massacre big. Be safe!” she said. “Goodnight, whore!” I yelled as I turned and started walking towards the porch. I walked up the steps with the heels swinging in my hand. The front door was left unlocked because Terry had the only key. I opened the door and walked in.

I looked around the open living room in search of Terry. “Terry, baby? Where are you?” I yelled as I turned towards the hallway. Before I could move, I saw something flash across the large floor-to-ceiling window in the living room. I couldn't tell if it was a light or a reflection. I stood there for a second to see if it would happen again. Nothing. I shrugged my shoulders and proceeded to walk up the stairs. I was approaching the master bedroom door when I noticed a stain on the floor. It was a puddle of dark liquid. I couldn't tell what it was, but it smelled metallic. I leaned over in front of the door and hovered over the puddle. It looked like— blood.

I leaned up and quickly backed away from the door. I dropped the heels and held my chest. I turned back towards the stairs. I instantly wanted to flee but realized I didn't know where Terry was. “Terry, please. If this is a joke, this a fuckin' sick one!” I yelled from the top of the stairs. I turned back to look at the bedroom door. What if he was in there hurt? Shit!

I slowly walked back up to the door. I placed my hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. I opened the door slightly peeking around. “Terry,” I said whispering into the room, “I don't like this.” I walked into the room, staying close to the door. I walked towards the center of the room facing the bed. The master bathroom door was cracked open with the light on. There was a smaller puddle at the bottom of this door. I wasn't liking this at all. My anxiety was pushing my heart through my chest. Every breath was feeling like swallowing razor blades. I inched closer to the door as panic was setting in. What if Terry was on the other side of this door? What if he was hurt, what if he was dead?

As I approached the door, I noticed faint marks leading from the puddle and into the bathroom— drag marks. No! I tried my hardest to level my breathing. I placed my hand on the door and pushed it open slowly. I opened the door to find blood splatter all over the bathroom and the tub covered in it. I almost screamed but covered my mouth. I started to back out of the bathroom. My foot stepped into the puddle by the bathroom door, soaking the bottom of my stockings. Tears were starting now.

As I lifted my foot to remove the stockings, there was a loud thud at the bedroom window. I didn't want to look out, but I had to know if it was Terry. I slowly crossed the room. The window had no blinds just a sheer white curtain. I pushed the curtain open lightly to peek but hopefully not be seen. I looked out towards the field at the rear of the house. That's when I saw him— a man. He was holding an axe over his shoulder. He looked like a lumberjack. THIS WASN'T TERRY! I stumbled away from the window unsure of what I just saw. There was no way this was happening. We didn't come way out here for this shit! I slowly leaned back towards the window to look again. This time I didn't touch the curtains.

He was still there, but his head was tilted up facing the window this time. The axe was resting by his side. He slowly raised the axe and slung it onto his shoulder. I could see there was something in his other hand. Before I could investigate further, he pointed towards the window. He could see me! He raised his hand above his hand and slung whatever was in his hand at the window. I ducked behind the wall. The object hit the window with a splat.

I eased away from the window to see blood splatter dripping down. I backed up towards the bed while still facing the window. Holding my chest, I tried to sort out what was going on. Then, I heard the sound of heavy boots thumping on the back porch. He was closer now. That's when I remembered the backdoor couldn't be locked from the inside. Terry had told me this earlier that day. But if the door couldn't be locked, he could just—. Before I could finish my thoughts, I heard the backdoor open and slam against the wall. The last place I wanted to be was in the room he last saw me in because this would be the first place he searched.

So, I slipped out of the bedroom door and hid in the guest room. I could hear his footsteps hitting the stairs as I closed the door. The closer he got; the louder it became. He paused at the top of the stairs. I heard his footsteps lead towards the room I left. While holding my breath, I heard him slowly open and close the door. I instantly began weighing out all my options. I could hide here like the typical dumbass— under the bed, in the closet, or behind a door. Or, I could sneak and hide somewhere else before he sees me.

Fuck it! I was trying my luck with the second option.

I stood near the door and slowly opened it. Peeking out into the empty hallway towards the other room, I turned around and tried to close the door slowly so it didn't creak. I turned back around and began tip-toeing towards the top of the stairs. Before I could get far, I noticed the bathroom door in the hallway open. I had this odd feeling that I was being watched. I didn't want to look, but I was too afraid to make any sudden movements. I pressed my back against the railing while closely watching the opening and the bedroom door of the room I left.

As soon as I reached the banister, I felt a presence behind me. I was right! He had never gone into the bedroom. He rushed from the open bathroom, coming straight towards me. He tossed the axe to the opposite hand with ease. The mask he wore covered his head entirely, so I couldn't see his hair, face, or eyes. I tried to run away from him, but he managed to grab the back of my top. I yanked away from him, causing it to rip. I stumbled down the stairs with him close behind me.

I knew better than to run out the backdoor. There was nothing but acres of open fields. The kitchen wasn't an option either as it was in the back of the home. I ran towards the front door, leaping off the porch. I sprinted for the barn across from the house. It was far, but I had a better chance of finding a weapon to use. The barn door was open. There wasn't an ounce of light inside. Fuck it! It was too late to turn back now. I ran into the barn and hid behind a mountain of hay.

He was cocky. He didn't even run after me; he casually walked. He treated this like it was an everyday encounter. There wasn't an ounce of worry in his demeanor. His shoulders were squared, and his stance was wide. He stood at the barn entrance, searching for any signs of where I went. He knew I was in here.

He rolled his shoulders and neck. He swung the axe back and forth at his side. He turned around, facing the barn door. He walked to the side and pulled the handle for the door. He slid it across the entrance. He was sealing me inside. There was nowhere to run, but the other door. It was closed, but I only needed an opportunity to run and enough gap to squeeze through.

Walking to the corner, he pulled a metal chain across the bar on the door and locked it. Now, I was LOCKED in. I had to get to that back door. I looked around me, but there was nothing. Had I really gotten locked in here with nothing to defend myself?

I eased along the slide of the bales, trying not to make a sound. I was short enough to stay concealed as I moved. I made it to the other end of the barn before he made another move. He was at one end and I was at the other. I realized that I could go for the door. It didn't look too heavy for me to pull.

All I had to do was get to the door, push it open enough to slip through and run. That's it.

I stood as close as I could to the wall. I took a silent deep breath. I peeked around to make sure he was still on the opposite side. I slipped past the hay and ran for the door. I could see him turn to face me. I grabbed the handle and pulled it as hard as I could. It wouldn't budge. I tried to push it again and again. Nothing.

I turned around to see him walking towards me. Oh no! That's when I heard it— the sound of a chain. This door was locked from the outside. There was no way I had just done this. I kept pulling at the door. I flattened my back against it, turning to face him. He wasn't moving any closer. He stood in the middle of the barn with the axe over his shoulder. I knew for a fact that I couldn't outrun him. So, what do I do?

“Please, just leave me alone. My boyfriend's here somewhere!” I yelled holding my arms in front of my stomach. He barked out the most sinister laugh I had ever heard, before stopping abruptly and going silent. “He's dead, you dumb bitch! You didn't get that from the mess upstairs!” he yelled. The world around me began to spin. He had said the quiet part out loud. Terry was dead, and I just didn't want to believe it. “What? I gotta show you his body for you to believe me?” he said walking closer. “No!” I yelled. “No!” he yelled mocking me, “You sound fuckin' pathetic.” I was crying even harder now. No amount of breathwork or grounding would save me from this. I was about to die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. “So, is this the part where you run again, huh? Save yourself the trouble, pretty girl. Just come here!” he said pointing in front of him using the axe. “Fuck… fuck you!” I said crying.

His body stiffened immediately. His hand gripped the handle of the axe tighter. “I said to c’mere. Right the fuck now!” he barked. I stood where I was frozen in fear. “If I gotta come getchu or you make me chase you, so help me God!” he spat. I pushed away from the door while slowly walking towards him. I had to try something.

As I moved closer to him, I shifted my path to the side of him. I didn't want to get close to him, but did I have a choice? I stopped a few feet from him so I was out of reach. “You do know that if I swing this fuckin' axe I can still hit you?” he said frankly. I looked between us. He was telling the truth. I wasn't stopping shit. If he wanted to get me, he still could. “Come on, pretty girl. Help me, help you. Stand right here,” he said in a calmer tone.

I still didn't move— I couldn't. No matter what I did right now? I was going to die anyway.

I looked down at my feet. “Is it the axe, baby girl? Tell me,” he said tilting his head. I looked up at the axe and trailed my eyes up to his face. I could sense that he was staring at me. “Look at me, lil’ mama!” he snapped. He seemed agitated with my antics, but I didn't know what to do. He was tall and appeared muscular. My short thick ass couldn't outrun him or fight him.

He waved the axe around wildly, slinging it away. It soared through the air and landed on the barn’s upper level. “See. I'm nice,” he said raising his hands. They were empty, but I wasn't stupid. I knew a man like this didn't need weapons when his hands could do damage and kill.

I wasn't any less scared, but oh well. I walked towards him slowly, holding my breath. Once I was in arm's reach, he grabbed my shirt by the knot in the front. It tore in half. He yanked it from my body, exposing my black push-up bra. I threw my hands up to cover my chest. He smacked my hand down. “Move your fuckin' hands!” he yelled, raising his hand as if he were about to hit me again. “I fuckin' dare you!” he grunted through gritted teeth. I dropped my hands by my side, waiting for whatever was coming. Why wasn't he doing anything?

“What do you really want?” I asked. I was tired of this sicko's games. “Does it fuckin' matter? It's not like you got anywhere to go,” he said laughing. He was faking his composure. He wasn't calm at all. His hands were flexing and his shoulders were tensing up by the second. Why did I let Terry talk me into coming out here?

“Arghhh… If you don't fuckin' move!” he yelled. Fear took over, causing me to take a step back. “You know what fuck that?” he said pulling out a pair of leather gloves from his back pocket. He pulled them over his hands and wiggled his fingers. His hands filled the gloves perfectly. He closed the gap between us in two quick steps. His chest was right in front of my face.

I dropped my head. There was no point in running. “Just do it already!” I yelled hitting him in the chest repeatedly. He stood there and took every hit. His body didn't move an inch. Nothing I was doing was even affecting this man. Angered because I was tired of being toyed with, I pushed him in his chest. He shifted a little. I pushed him again. He shifted back a little more. Before I could push him a third time, he grabbed my hands. He held my hands above my head. “Stupid girl. Was that fun for you? Aww, you're fighting the big bad man. How cute?” he said mocking me.

He released my arms. I looked down and rubbed my wrists. I was caught off guard by his hand wrapping around my throat. He lifted my body from the ground and pushed me against one of the posts on the barn. “If you ever put your fuckin' hands on me again, I'll snap your fuckin' neck! Understand?” he grumbled. His teeth were grinding, and his grip was tightening. “Yes!” I managed to squeal out. “That's what the fuck I thought!” he yelled, releasing his grip.

My body hit the ground with a thud. I held my neck. I was sure there was a mark or a bruise. I was leaning over on one side. He squatted down so that he was right in front of me. Reaching to touch my face, he stroked my cheek and wiped my tears. “You're too pretty to be cryin’, girl,” he said tilting his head to one side. He was just hovering over me stroking my cheek. It was as if he was in a trance. I took in a deep breath. He let his hand roam my body. First, he groped my breast. Then, he caressed my stomach. This didn't feel right. Why was he all of a sudden being so gentle— too gentle?

His hand went lower and stopped at the top of my skirt. He looked back up at me while his hand moved down to my thighs. He pushed my skirt up and began dragging his hand along my thighs. “Damn, I know he’ll miss this,” he said moving his hand up towards my pussy. I clamped my thighs shut. No way was he about to touch me there. His face shot up in my direction. One of his hands shot up and slapped me across the face. “Don’t fuckin’ try me!” he said grabbing my chin. Even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I could tell his gaze was locked on my face.

While still gripping my chin and focusing on my face, his hand began moving again. His hand stalled and rested on top of my pussy. He hooked his pointer and index fingers around the crotch of my panties, tugging them a little. He tore them off my body, and I screamed as the fabric scratched against my skin.

I kicked him in the chest as hard as I could. He grabbed my ankle and yanked me towards him. I tried to find something to grab onto, failing miserably. My palms burned from being pulled through the dirt. “Stop, or else!” he screamed, holding my legs down. “Fuck you! If you're going to do it, do it! Bitch!” I yelled slapping him across the face.

I turned over onto my stomach and began attempting to crawl away. He grabbed the back of my legs, pulling me back towards him. I managed to snatch one leg away. He leaned forward and jumped onto my back. His hands flew to the back of my head, pulling my hair so my back was flush to his chest. “Yell! Scream! Go ahead! Nobody can hear you, dumbass!” he said in my ear, yanking my head up. “Let me go!” I screamed.

I couldn't keep fighting him. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I knew only one of us would walk away from this, and it wouldn't be me. “You don't like living do you?” he said pushing me to the ground. My face hit the dirt. A metallic taste flooded my mouth— blood. I lifted my hand and wiped my mouth. I turned over, sitting on my butt. I pushed on my hands to get up. “Sit!” he screamed, knocking me back. I was tired of this shit. I wanted no part of this stupid ass game he was playing.

I pulled my knees into my chest and began crying. “Hell, nah! Shut the fuck up! The fuck is cryin’ gonna do?” he asked while grabbing the back of my head. He used his grip on my hair to pull me down before straddling me. “You know what? Maybe I was wrong. I like the way you look when you cry. Soft. Sweet. Defenseless. Scared. Yeah, I think I like this,” he said cupping my left breast. His hand wandered to my left bra strap. He pushed it down slowly before doing the same to the other side. “Take it off slowly. No need to rush. We got all night,” he said low. I didn't move. What was the point of doing what he said? Prolonging my ending life seemed futile.

He reached behind him and pulled out a hunter's knife. I stared at the blade, tensing up. I placed my hands on his chest, trying to push him away. He grabbed my hands in one of his and held them above my head. He twirled the knife in his hand before pressing it into the front of my neck. The adrenaline in my body was pumping, and my ears were ringing. “Just do it!” I yelled, sobbing. His focus shifted back to my face. I could almost see his features spread into a smile through the mask. “Okay!” he said laughing. I felt the knife leave my skin. The presence of the blade still lingering behind.

With a heavy heart, I closed my eyes. I waited and waited. Every breath seemed to bring me closer to my last. I felt his grip on my hands tighten but still nothing. What was he doing? I wanted to close my eyes but was too afraid of what I might see.

I felt the knife glide across my stomach. I felt the blade rest on the fabric between my bra cups.

rip

He sliced through the front of my bra and began making quick work of the straps as well. I opened my eyes to see him peeling the pieces from my body. My exposed nipples hardened from the crispness of the Autumn air. He raised the knife to my chest, sliding it across my nipples. The cold blade stimulated the sensitive buds. I squirmed underneath him. This was feeling— I don't know. Was I enjoying this, or was my fear driving me insane?

I moved my hands and twisted my wrists. “No,” I whimpered. “No? You sure, pretty girl? I bet if I rubbed my hand through that pussy of yours, she'd be sayin' something else! Wouldn't she?” he said putting the knife back behind him. “Just…,” I said trying to tug away again. It must have annoyed him because it earned me another slap to the face. “Quit the bullshit, baby! Let's see!” he said, placing his hands on the button of my skirt. He unbuttoned and unzipped it quickly. While grabbing both sides of the zipper, he easily tore the mini skirt in half. “Clean! I like that. You came prepared for me, huh?” he said rubbing the mound of my pussy. The fabric of his leather gloves was like ice against my skin. He scooted back on his knees a little so that he was straddling my thighs more than my waist. He stuffed his hand between my legs, palming my pussy. He cupped his hand, trailing it through my folds. He dragged his hand up and down my slit, grazing my clt each time.

I was shocked by what I saw when he pulled his hand out. Cum! What the hell was going on? “Oh! That's lovely,” he said bringing the wet glove closer to his face mask. He drew in a deep breath. “Now, I might not be the smartest man but that looks like arousal to me. Don't it?” he said bringing the glove to my face. “ Yes… no… I don't fuckin' know!” I yelled. “You might wanna admit it, baby. You like this, huh? You dirty slut!” he said stuffing his fingers into my mouth. I gagged at the force.

“Don't say shit! Just suck!” he said, leaning over me. His face was right in front of mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath through the mask. I opened my mouth wider, telling myself to just do it. I sucked on the glove lightly. “You can do better than that! Come on! The better you perform; the longer you may live. Make me proud,” he said, leaning up.

I sucked on the glove again— a little harder this time. He let his finger roam inside my mouth. I let my tongue slither around each finger, causing his dick to jump. I felt it move against my thigh. I looked down to see a tent growing in his jeans. Shit, it was big! Oh, no. I couldn't be thinking like this. What would Terry think of me?

“Don't worry you'll see it soon!” he said drawing my attention back to him. I realized that I had been unconsciously sucking on his fingers. He pulled the glove from my mouth and smeared my saliva all over my face and lips. “Sloppy. I like it!” he said, lightly tapping my cheek. “Imma let yo’ hands go. Don't do no stupid shit, okay?” he said. I nodded my head yes. What the fuck could I possibly do in this situation?

He released my hands. I instantly pulled them to my chest and began rubbing my wrists. “I'm sowwy. I shouldn't have been so rough when you're so soft and…” he said trailing his hands down my chest to cup both of my breasts. The material of the gloves felt smooth against my nipples, causing me to let out a soft moan. He broke from his trance and focused on my face again. I know he heard it. Why was I moaning from this? What the hell was going on with my body?

“Listen to me. If you promise to be nice, I'll let you live. Who knows maybe you can be my sex slave or something!” he chuckled deeply. “As if I have a choice,” I whispered turning my head. “Well, you're right about that. Shall we begin?” he asked clapping his hands. “Begin?” I asked confused. All I could see was his facial features shift under his mask. He was smiling— no he was grinning. A big sinister grin was spread across his face. He was about to enjoy whatever came next.

He lifted his hips and repositioned himself between my legs. He grabbed the back of my knees and pushed them up to my chest using one hand. With the other, he undid his belt buckle and pants. He didn't even care to pull them down completely. I watched as he grabbed his dick at the base. I immediately knew where this was going. I tried to push my legs back down, but even when using one hand he was stronger than me. He leaned over me and slapped his dick on my clit. It was heavy and hard as a brick. “Remember what I said. The better you perform…,” he said letting his thoughts trail off.

In one quick thrust, he was inside me— deep. My arms flew up trying to push his chest. “Don't do that!” he cooed. “Behave. I promise to make it worth your while,” he lulled, dodging my hands. It was like he didn't give a fuck about me fighting back. He was too focused on—. “Fine. Have it your way!” he barked.

He grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head. With his teeth, he snatched the glove from his other hand. He threw it behind him. I could feel his dick twitching inside me. He grabbed my neck and began pounding into me. I gasped for air. How was he switching back and forth like that? He was nice one second, then aggressive the next. This man was a fuckin’ psychopath.

His hips snapped into my ass. “If you want me to stop, stop me!” he laughed. I knew I couldn't. I had tried and tried again. “Come on! Do something!” he yelled in my face. I was done. My blood boiled and fear went out the window for a second. “Fuck you! Kiss my fat black ass!” I yelled pushing my thighs down as hard as I could. He falls back onto his hands. I used this as an opportunity to scramble away. “Arghhh, you stupid bitch! Tell me what’re you gonna do? Huh? You can't run. You can't hide. No one can hear you!” he yelled waving his arms around. Again, he was right. What the fuck could I do?

I sat there for a minute with my back turned away from him. I was on my knees crying into my hands. Each sob racked through my body. An idea jumped into my head— this would either kill me or save me. I didn't know what to do, but I did know what I had to do. ONE FINAL TRY.

I turned on my knees to face him. “So, you're saying that… if I… if I let you do it, you'll let me live?” I asked gasping for air in between sobs. “I'm a man of my word, love,” he said sweetly. I covered my body, waiting for his next move. “Fine! Just do it,” I said getting on my hands and knees and slowly crawling toward him. I was a few feet from him when he told me to stop. I looked up to see him twirling his finger. “Turn around. You're pretty and all, but I'm sick of your face,” he spat with disgust. I turned around and sat on my knees.

He climbed behind me. His presence alone swallowed my frame. I was a big girl, but that meant nothing right now. He pushed me forward. “Ass up, face down. Don't make me repeat myself!” he yelled smacking my ass. He was sitting between my knees with his hands by his side. I got on all fours in front of him. I heard him scoff and grunt. “Fix ya’ arch. If I gotta fix it, you're not gonna like it. Let's go!” he yelled.

I arched my back and pushed my ass into the air. Without realizing how close I was, my ass grazed his dick. He growled in response. I looked over my shoulder at him. “What the fuck did I say? I don't wanna see ya’ face. Turn around!” he yelled popping my ass again. I screamed out in pain.

“Oh, shut up! It didn't hurt!” he said laughing at me. I started to sit up, but he pushed me back down. “What you movin’ for? I'm just kiddin’,” he said playfully. This man was confusing the hell out of me. How did he expect me to react? There was nothing funny about this. I moved away from his hand before he could react. “Alright, damn! I'm sorry. You know what? No, I'm not. I'm sick of your shit, you disrespectful bitch! I’ve tried being nice to you, but you don't seem to give a fuck. Why should I?” he snapped while grabbing my hair. His other hand forced my ass to meet his hips. “We're gonna learn that attitudes don't work around here!” he said thrusting back inside of me. I could feel the thickness of his dick inside me. It was clear that this was turning him on.

I felt his hand slide up my back to my shoulder. He was pulling me back on him now. He was pounding into me like I was a sex doll. I could feel my pussy beginning to ache already. As if he could sense my discomfort, he paused. Letting go over my hair and shoulder, he placed both hands beside me. He was on top of me now. Fuck! I needed to get on my back.

He began to grind his hips into me slowly. What was he doing? He leaned over so that his mouth was near my ear. The mask was warm from his breath. “Better?” he asked seductively while fucking into me. It was as if his voice had changed, and lust had taken over. It wasn't raspy anymore. It was deep and soft— smooth like velvet. “Answer me. Is this better?” he asked, pulling his dick out to the tip. “Yes,” I moaned out. It was like I couldn't control it. It was starting to feel good. “Yeah, that's what I wanna hear,” he said, pushing his dick back in. He was kissing my cervix and bottoming out with every stroke. He was honestly fucking so well. I hated this. I wasn't supposed to enjoy this, but I couldn't help it. His dick felt amazing inside me. Every stroke felt like— love. How?

“That's right. Take it. You got it,” he said. My eyes started to roll in the back of my head as I could feel his dick swelling inside me. He leaned back up and grabbed my hips. The movement of his hips was slow and—. “Ahh, shit! Wait!” I said putting my arms out to the side. I flattened my body against the ground. I was yearning for something to grab. My hands dug into the dirt of the barn floor.

“Come on. I'm so close, baby. Fuck!” he said quickening his pace. His hips were snapping into me at this point. I could feel the gentle caress of his balls slapping my clit. “This pussy is mine!” he groaned, fisting the hair at the back of my head. He pressed my head into the floor.

As his hips shifted to pound down into me, he brought one leg up so that he was kneeling. My pussy began to clench around his dick. I could feel my climax approaching. The wetness of my pussy was working against me. He was sliding in and out of me with ease. My pussy was begging for a release. I needed to cum so that I could come to my senses.

His dick was throbbing inside of me. Oh, he was close, and I wanted him to c—. No, I didn't want that. I didn't want him to do that— not inside me, but it was TOO LATE! His hips snapped into my ass with force. He grabbed my hips and pulled me onto him. He held me there, releasing every ounce of his nut inside of me.

“Ahhh, fuck! That pussy was nice. Can I keep you?” he asked letting go of me. I let my body collapse onto the ground. “One more,” I said turning to face him. “What?” he asked confused. “I didn't finish. I wanna cum,” I said pouting. I needed him to trust me because I needed this plan to work. “Can't get enough, huh?” he said, pushing me on my back. I let my legs fall open so that he could see just how wet my pussy was. I needed him to lose focus.

“Oh, you nasty slut. You like this shit! Don't you?” he asked, slapping his dick on my clit. He rubbed his dick through the mixture of our cum that was spilling out of me. He sat his dick at my entrance. “Beg, bitch! You want it so bad. Beg for this dick!” he growled, holding his dick at the base. Pride was out the door at this point. There was no turning back. “Please, I need it. Make me cum. That's all I want. Just make me cum. You..,” I said but before I could finish he forced his dick inside of me. “Ahhh!” I said moaning out.

As much as I wanted to hate this, it felt so good. His dick was hitting every spot and scratching every itch. My pussy was creaming around him, and I was leaking like a faucet. He leaned over me, placing his hands on both sides of my head. I could hear our hips slamming into each other. I rubbed my hand up his chest. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer. I could feel every breath he took on my face.

He threw his head back in bliss. I was chasing two dragons at once— an orgasm and the key to my freedom. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. I could feel my orgasm approaching. “I'm about to nut!” I yelled, gripping the back of his head. I placed my head on his shoulder. I could see it. IT WAS RIGHT THERE! I let my orgasm take over and began clenching and unclenching my walls to push him into his. His strokes got sloppy, and his hips stiffened. He dropped his head on my shoulder, letting his weight fall onto me. This was it— my only chance.

I slid one of my hands down his back while keeping the other pressed to the back of his head. “Stay in me, please,” I begged. I didn't need him to move. As my hand got closer to his waistband, I felt it— the knife! I gripped the handle and pulled it from his waistband. I pulled my legs under me so that they were pressed against his chest and kicked him as hard as I could. Knife in hand, I jumped on him before he could react. Pressing the knife against his throat, I began to speak. “Tell me why I shouldn't?” I yelled. “Because…,” he said, struggling to find an answer. “Take off the mask!” I demanded. “What?” he asked. “You heard me! Bitch!” I yelled back, pressing the knife deeper into his neck. I could feel his heart racing. Wasn't shit funny to him now. “Aight, damn!” he yelled while slowly removing the mask. His hands tossed the mask away from us.

What a sight?! I leaned in closer, turning the blade on its side. “Any last words?!” I snarled. He lay there quietly. “None. Fine with me!” I said, fisting the knife. “I just hope you know how special you are, Mama. Oh, and my girlfriend gone kick yo’ ass!” he screamed.

“Terry!” I said pouting. He grabbed my face and pulled me in for a kiss. “All you had to do was keep acting scared. Dammit!” I said pushing away from him. I was straddling his waist with my arms folded across my chest going into full brat mode. “I'm sorry! You said the code word for ending the scene, Mama. How was I supposed to know you wanted to keep going?” he asked grabbing my chin. “You ruined the fun,” I said dropping my arms. “Did I though?” he asked taking one of my nipples into his mouth. “You still got one more in you?” he asked, releasing my nipple from his mouth. “How the fuck am I supposed to say no?” I asked leaning in to kiss him and dropping the knife.

He placed his arm around my waist and lifted my hips. He reached his hand between us, guiding his dick inside me. “Ouu, shit!” I moaned into his mouth. “Come on, Mama. You got it. Make Daddy proud!” he said smiling. I pushed him back onto the ground. “Here comes, Big Mama!” I yelled, giggling. I hopped onto my feet and started bouncing on his dick. My hips smashed down into his. I leaned over and began kissing his neck. “Let me have it, Mama. Let's go!” he yelled, smacking my ass. Terry let out the sweetest moan as his head dropped back. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Fuck, I couldn't help myself. Look at him. Eyes rolling. Toes curling. Moaning to the gods. Yeah, I did that! Me!

“You like that? Huh?” I asked, placing my hand on Terry's neck. I pressed down on the front of his throat. Terry's eyes shot open and his hand reached for mine. “Don't you fuckin' dare!” I said, slowing down my hips and gripping his dick with every grind. “Fuck!” Terry said letting his hands fall. “Nah, look at me. Ain't that what you said?” I taunted while gripping his neck even tighter. “Ahh, fuck. I love you!” he screamed out. “Yeah, I wanna hear that shit. Eyes on me!” I said, mocking him. His eyes opened slowly as his breathing became ragged. I could feel his heart racing under the palm of my hand. I held the grip on his neck with the other.

The sound of my ass colliding with his hips echoed through the barn. “Give me it, Daddy!” I said, releasing his neck. I sat up straight and began to ride Terry like the stallion he is. “Ahh, that's… oh, fuck! Here it comes!” Terry said, grabbing my hips and holding me in place. His hips froze as he squeezed my waist. I felt every drop of his cum paint the inside of my walls. I giggled into my hand and said, “Oh, I'm not done!”

Terry's face was overcome with shock. “You heard me,” I said, rocking my hips. “Fuck it. It's all you, Mama,” he said, collapsing backward. “Oh, I know!” I said cockily. That's when I noticed Terry was smirking. “You just don't know when to stop, huh?” he said grabbing my hips and lifting me off of him. He pushed my body over his chest so that my pussy was directly over his mouth. His tongue immediately found my clit. I was definitely about to cum from this. His mouth covered the sensitive bud as he sucked.

I felt his hands rubbing and squeezing my ass. I fell forward and began grinding against his face. I felt Terry's lips curl into a smile. “I'm about to cum,” I announced loudly. Terry popped my ass and held me down, encouraging me. His tongue slithered along my entrance. He was missing it on purpose, teasing me. I whined like a bitch. Moans were leaving my mouth repeatedly. His tongue finally found its way into my pussy. I clenched as I felt my orgasm approaching. “Ah, fuck!” I yelled, leaning up and straddling Terry's face. He removed his tongue and began sucking on my clit again. That's what did it. I came all over Terry. “Ugh… mmm. Fuck, Daddy!” I moaned through my orgasm. I could hear him laugh from underneath me. “Damn you!” I yelled, climbing off of Terry's face. “I love you, too. Mean ass!” he said. “I guess I love you,” I said, laughing while leaning over to kiss Terry’s lips.

Taglist: @brattyfics @avoidthings @cocooned-butterfly @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy @miyuhpapayuh @megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaxwrites @jimmybutlrr @lovey-3 @curvyambitions @deja-r @hoouno06 @insidefeelingofanadult @slutsareteacherstoo @ariiijestertheklown

@armandosbabymama @gg-trini @skyesthebomb @blowmymbackout @blackerthings @mymindisneverhere @iburias @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @geee3bayyybeee3 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @keyaho

@pocketsizedpanther @sageispunk @charismablu @4ftwonder @ineedmyaccountback @rebelrel0987 @4pfsukuna @writingsbytee @nayaesworld

@blyffe @helloncrocs @amyhennessyhouse @beenathembo @thiccc-c @babybratzmaraj @pinkpantheris

@qtmkenedy03 @honeytoffee @talkswithdesi

[sweatervest-obsessed]

New Shade of Green

Pairing: Spencer x Reader (gn!)

WC: 2.7k

TW: implications of murder, serial killer talk, mentions of abuse, crying, anger, swearing <3, Men sucking so bad

a/n: This was a request, which you can see here. Jealous Spencer was so fun to write! Enjoy babes!!!

"Oh my god. Shut the fuck up! I didn't know you were the consultant for this case!" You hopped up out of your seat on the jet to greet the man you called your best friend. 

His eyes lit up when he saw you, wrapping an arm around you, squeezing you tightly. "I assume you didn't read the text I sent you last week."

You laughed and pulled out of the hug slightly, hand still on his arm. "I never read anything you send me."

Spencer, whose hand you had abandoned when you got up to say hi to Oliver, was zeroed in on the fact that your hand was still on Oliver's arm, and Oliver's arm was still slightly wrapped around your waist. 

"Team, this is Oliver Swerdanski, my best friend and specialist in classics--" 

"Norse mythology specifically." 

It was not lost on the team that you clearly had a type. Oliver was about 6 feet tall, in a sweater, and wearing wired glasses frames. He was slightly buffer than Spencer, but not as tall. (something Spencer noted the first time you had introduced the two)

The team nodded and said their hellos, more interested in the shifting dynamics of the plane since you hadn't left Oliver's side, opting to sit with him on the couch instead of your usual seat by the window, next to a certain green-faced Doctor. 

The flight was going to be a long one. 

Eventually, Derek felt terrible enough for Spencer that he stopped by you and Oliver on his way to get some coffee. 

"So, Oliver, how long have you known our dear Y/N here." 

Oliver smiled over at you with a glint in his eye that most of the profilers on the plane noticed. Except for you. 

"Oh, well. We go way back." 

You nodded enthusiastically, just happy to have the company of an old friend. "We were neighbors growing up--you could say he's my childhood best friend." 

"That turned into one of your now best friends..."

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Don’t push it asshat.”

Derek smiled slightly, realizing this was going to be an interesting case “Well, it’s nice to meet you Oliver.”

He left the two of you alone, taking your abandoned seat next to Spencer, a slight smirk washing over his face as he did. 

“Aren’t you the picture of joy this morning?” 

“Not in the mood, Derek,” Spencer mumbled, staring intently out the window, trying not to let his jealousy get the better. It’s not like it mattered since he was surrounded by profilers who could read him like a book. 

“What do you think of Oliver?” 

Spencer’s jaw tightened, and Derek chuckled. “Good luck, kid.” 

And with that, Derek left Spencer alone, knowing he had his plate filled with more than enough shit for however long this case would be. 

And it didn’t help anything that you were completely oblivious to both men: both of them filled to the brim with envy of the other, having what they each thought the other had—your attention. 

____________________________________________________________

Four years ago, Hotch had made you and Spencer share a bedroom, causing a chain of events to lead to the fact that you still share one now. 

Three years of dating had made you feel very comfortable in your relationship; You loved Spencer Reid. This was not some passing affliction, it was simply a fact of the universe. You would move hell and earth if he asked you to. 

But not right now. Right now? You kind of wanted to punch him. He was ignoring you, or at least that’s what it felt like. The car ride was completely silent. You could tell something was upsetting him, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure why he was so distant. 

“Spence?” 

“Hm?”

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong.” 

He shrugged, effectively trying to murder the conversation before it even had the chance to live. 

You frowned slightly, shifting in your seat slightly, and looking over at him. 

“What’s going on?” 

You heard him mumble something under his breath, unsure of what he was saying, but it just made you even more upset. 

“Why won’t you tell me what’s going on with you?”

“I said. I’m fine.” Spencer huffed. 

“Well, clearly you aren’t.”

“Believe whatever you want to fucking believe then.”

And that’s where the conversation ended, leaving you effectively lost. Especially since he wouldn’t hold your hand in the car ride back and then didn’t wait for you as he walked straight into the police station. 

This was going to be a long case. 

___________________________________________________________

And you were right. 

Spencer ignored you at every chance he could. Even in the hotel room, he’d go to bed without you, no holding one another, no late-night talks, nothing. He would just get ready for bed in silence and then turn away from you. 

And tonight, you couldn’t deal with it anymore. He had been ignoring you for over a week and now that it looked like the case was going to take longer, you couldn’t stand it. Instead of getting into bed, you grabbed your phone and wallet and stormed out of the hotel, slamming the door behind you. 

You went down to the hotel bar and ordered yourself a tequila shot, downing it quickly before getting your regular drink. 

Oliver slid into the seat next to you, hand on your arm. 

“I haven’t seen you do tequila that fast since freshman year of college.” 

You gave him a dry laugh and took another sip of your drink. “Desperate times.” 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“Not really. I’m just. I’m aggravated.” 

“Come on, babe, it’s me.” Oliver rubbed his hand up and down your arm. “You can always talk to me—so tell me what’s been going on. Boy troubles?”

You sighed. “It’s just…I don’t know what’s going on with Spencer. He’s barely said like three sentences to me since the case began, and clearly, he’s upset with me, but I have no fucking idea why since he’s being a stubborn ass and won’t talk to me. How the fuck am I supposed to fix something if he won’t even tell me what’s wrong.” 

Oliver rubbed his thumb across your arm. It felt intimate because it was, but this was Oliver, who only had the best intentions for you, who you had known since you were a little kid.

“He sounds like a douche babe.” 

You leaned away slightly, face becoming unrecognizable for a moment. “Okay, well, that’s not what I said. He’s clearly just upset abou—” 

“You kinda did. He’s acting like you don’t exist, and clearly, he doesn’t care about how all of this is affecting you.” 

You went to rebuttal his claims because Spencer would never be that callous; he’d never treat you like that. But he kind of was. “It’s only because something is wrong and…”

“So he treats you like this whenever he can’t communicate with you.”

“Well not…he doesn’t…” You were starting to doubt yourself, unable to keep up with the accusations. 

“He doesn’t what. Because it sounds like you’re saying he treats you like shit when he gets upset with you…”

“What are you trying to insinuate? That he hits me? Oliv–”

“I’m just saying that behavior–”

What? Oliver, no. Stop twisting my words.” 

“I’m not twisting your words; I’m just stating what I’m seeing.” 

“What you’re seeing? You’ve been here for a week. You don’t know the past three years.”

“It’s been a week and he’s still treating you like this. And honestly, whenever I come around, he…” Oliver moved his hand to your thigh, causing you to frown deeply. 

“Oliver. Step off.” 

He shook his head. “You’re upset. And I want to help.” 

You shoved his hand off your thigh and stood up. You left cash on the bar, standing up and moving away from Oliver. 

Oliver watched as you walked away, frowning once you couldn’t see him anymore. 

____________________________________________________________

The next morning, Spencer was woken up, and you were curled into his chest, sleeping soundly. He couldn’t move. He ghosted his lips over your forehead, causing you to stir slightly, clinging to him more. 

“Morning.” He whispered to you. 

You hummed and gripped a bit tighter to him. “Don’t go.”

Your voice broke Spencer’s heart a little bit. It’s not that he didn’t feel bad about the way he was treating you, it’s just that Oliver kept provoking him, making him turn greener every single time he saw Oliver talking to you. 

“I wasn’t planning on it, sweetheart.” 

“Oh so now we’re back to nicknames.” You grumbled into his chest. “I’m still mad at you.” 

He signed and brushed your hair out of your face. “I’m sorry Y/N. Let me make it up to you, yeah?” 

“You can make it up to me when we get home.” 

“Deal.” He kissed your head again, just as your cell phone began to ring. 

_________________________________________________________

After two grueling weeks on this godforsaken case, everyone was ready to get home. 

The rest of the case caused serious tension for the group because the mythology was the only thing tying these murders together, and your geoprofile was all over the place, meaning these two killers were too good at what they were doing. 

Once you had been shot at, and nearly grazed by a bullet, you would have expected Spencer to continue to speak to you, but all he did was stare at you from afar. It was infuriating. 

You couldn’t get a read on him. For the rest of the week, he had been speaking to you, kissing you, holding your hand; then after checking on you while you were getting checked out, he stopped speaking to you. 

The entire team watched you and Spencer shift back into the dynamic duo you were, functioning better than before. They watched as Oliver got more frustrated as you continued to ignore him unless it was a necessary part of the investigation. Maybe you had figured it out–they hoped you had.

Instead of trying to deal with even more bullshit, you opted to sit alone at the back of the plane, headphones on. It was one of those many unspoken rules about the plane that everyone knew not to disturb you while your headphones were on unless they wanted to get bitch slapped. 

Well, everyone except for Oliver. 

You were deep in thought, trying to mull over why Spencer wasn’t talking to you–both times– going over every scenario you possibly could and figuring out what changed during that first day. 

Oliver got up, ready to go and talk to you, his intentions pretty clear from the look on his face, but Derek grabbed his arm, effectively yanking him back down into his seat. 

“What the fuck man?” 

“Don’t bug Y/N while they have headphones on.” If Spencer wasn’t going to stand up for you, then Derek absolutely was. Oliver might have been your best friend, but Derek was your family. 

“It’s just music…”

“Yeah,” Hotch spoke up, not looking away from the report in his hands. “And no one wants to clean up your blood when you get murdered for trying to interrupt that music.” 

“Look. As Y/n’s best friend, I’m outside of most of their rules–”

“I don't think so.” Derek stood up, fully ready to restrain this man. 

“What the fuck is going on.” You had stood up, and turned around, headphones out of your ears, and my god did you look fucking pissed off. “I don’t know why is everyone arguing so loudly, but if we could keep the volume at a fucking minimum that would be fan-fucking-tastic.”

The team stared back at you, except for Hotch who just had a slightly amused look on his face as he filled out paperwork. You glared at Oliver and Derek, who were standing opposite of you. “Can I help you two or…”

Derek shook his head. “Go back to your music. We’re sorry.”  

“Thank you.” You grumbled to the group, sliding your headphones back over your ears, attaching a ‘sorry’ to the group as you did so. You moved further back on the plane, sitting on the couch, glaring at anyone who looked at you. 

This has been a stressful two weeks for you. Oliver was acting all weird all of a sudden, –causing you to reevaluate your entire relationship with him, considering he was trying to make Spencer sound like a villain. And then Spencer, acting like a villain and ignoring you all week, then acting like nothing happened, and then ignoring you again for another twenty-four hours. You couldn’t take it anymore. And, on top of all of this, you had lost two more victims to the unsub, because one of the killers worked in the station, using his knowledge to avoid the BAU. 

You were overwhelmed and frustrated, and you just wanted some peace and quiet. Was that too much to ask for? 

“I should go apologize–” Oliver didn’t move to sit back down.

Spencer stood up and shoved past Oliver, moving to sit on the couch with you, causing you to raise your eyebrows at him. 

“Can I help you?” 

Spencer shrugged and opened his book, knowing you’d rather have whatever conversation he was willing to have now, in private. He opted to just read and be in your company. It was easily recognizable as the beginning of an apology, and you would take it. You maneuvered so your back was up against his arm, initiating the amount of touch you were willing to have, but also not crossing a line. 

The plane ride was silent the rest of the way. 

______________________________________________________________________________

“I’m sorry for this w–the past two weeks really. I-I’ve been really in my own head and–”

You let out a hefty sigh, tossing your keys on the counter and your bag down next to the door. Spencer followed suit, closing the door behind the two of you as you went into the kitchen to put on the kettle to make some tea. 

“Are you going to tell me what was going on? What the fuck happened?”

He sighed back at you, grabbing your hand and pulling you into a hug. 

And while you muttered your displeasure, you didn’t move away from him at all, opting to grouchily mumble in his ear, while Spencer ran his thumb up and down your back, listening to you mumble. 

“I–god Spence. You just dropped me like all week, and then suddenly—”

“I-I know. I was awful. I’m so so sorry.”  

“That’s not an explanation.” You mumbled into his chest.

“I….” Spencer swallowed whatever sort of pride he thought he would be saving and opted to tell you. “I…It was Oliver, and-and the way you were treating him, an-and you sat next to him on the plane and he was touching you and he was constantly holding you and stealing your attention away and—”

You pulled away slightly to get a look at your boyfriend. “Spencer Reid, were you jealous?” 

He cursed under his breath and rolled his eyes. 

You placed a soft kiss on his neck, causing him to hum. “You have nothing to be worried about Spence. You are it for me. No one can change that, especially not Oliver.”

Spencer looked down and smiled again. You smiled back at him, pulling him to you for a kiss. 

It was recentering your universe. Everything was the way it should be–your lips on Spencer's, his hands around his waist, and a glowing sunset peering through your windows. 

The kettle whistled loudly, causing the two of you to jump apart, startled at the sound. 

“That was a good start, Spence. Once I finish my tea, you can show me how else you can keep making it up to me.” You smirked slightly, turning around to take the kettle off of the stove and grab the tea and mugs. 

Spencer has never been so excited to drink a cup of tea, and honestly, neither had you. 

[dtchloedecker]

closed starter for @lucifermorningstxr

Chloe was so angry, she could barely see straight, so she wound up pacing agitatedly. Lucifer was sitting at her desk and Eve had chosen that moment to give him a head massage. Chloe fought the urge to vomit. Did Eve HAVE to do that NOW?

Even though Lucifer said he still wanted to be partners, Chloe couldn't help feeling like he was going out of his way to punish her. He came in every day constantly talking about his sexcapades with Eve. If he wanted to torture Chloe it was working. But, she never said anything because she definitely deserved it. She had betrayed him, screwing up any chance she had with him.  Of course she snapped a LITTLE bit when he when he showed up at a crime scene wearing "orgy pants," but it actually seemed like he felt bad for upsetting her. For the past two days, it seemed like things were going back to normal between them.

But, today, Lucifer was in rare form. He showed up at the crime scene with Eve who wanted to learn about "catching bad guys." When Chloe told Lucifer that it wasn't okay, he threatened that he and Eve would just go after the killer on their own, so she agreed to let Eve join them just for this one case and immediately regretted it.

The first woman was loud and shrill and very hyperactive. In fact, Lucifer was practically chasing her around the bullpen like a father who brought his three-year-old daughter to work. She constantly talked about how she wanted to see Lucifer beat up the suspects. In fact, when they went to question Pony Boy and he asked for his lawyer, Eve told Lucifer to "torture the truth out of him until his lawyer shows up" and then proceeded to heavily make out with him as Chloe was arresting Pony Boy.

Things got worse when the three of them went to see Jacob Tiernan, Julian's father. Lucifer accused him of being worse than his son and Eve had to chime in calling him a true monster. Then, Lucifer had the audacity to ORDER Chloe to leave the room so he could punish Tiernan then started to bend a metal chair like a pipe cleaner. Chloe stood on his right, telling him to stop while Eve on his left encouraged him. Chloe was lucky that she was the one who got through to him and they left.

"Tiernan killed Sam, but we have no proof!" she ranted when they got back to the precinct. "So, Tiernan is gonna double his legal defense now that you’ve hulked out in his office."

She chose ignore Lucifer's response because she knew it would piss her off even further.

"What about this other guy? Pony Boy?" Eve chimed in. "Pony Boy already posted bail," Chloe answered. "So, you're saying we don't get to punish anybody?" Eve whined and then to Lucifer, "Honey, you promised."

Whatever patience with Little Miss Clueless that Chloe was holding on to slipped away from her. "THAT'S. NOT. HOW. WE. DO. THINGS. HERE. EVE!" Chloe yelled, slapping the back of one hand into the palm of the other on every word. "Please, remind me, why are you even here?!"

"I wanna help punish the bad guys," Eve pouted. Actually POUTED.

"Well, you've done NOTHING to help!" Chloe raged. "You've actually made things worse for the case! Pony Boy was supposed to remanded without bail, but thanks to your little comment about torturing the truth out of him, his lawyer was able to use that as an argument to post bail. He said that the LAPD was trying to coerce a confession out of him."

"Well, that's not good," Eve said. Then her eyes widened and she broke out into a huge grin. "We should punish the lawyer!"

"It's not your place to punish ANYONE, Eve!" Chloe didn't think it was possible to get any angrier. "Just because you're boning the devil doesn't make you a punisher! So, do me a favor and SHUT THE FUCK UP!" And before Lucifer could even open his mouth, Chloe held up her hand to him to stop him. "Don't, Lucifer! Not after you ORDERED me to leave the room like I'm your subordinate!"

Chloe couldn't stay in here anymore. She needed to be away from the two of them. "I need air," she said, not bothering to wait for them to answer her. She didn't bother waiting for the elevator. She just went up the stairs one level to the car park and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down as she stepped outside.

[umathurwin]

you know i love the thrill of the rush

jj maybank x f!reader; nsfw 18+

Summary: There’s a serial killer lurking around the island, and even though they’ve been sticking to Kook targets, you really wish your best friend would stop acting so strange. Is he on drugs… or selling them?

tags, warnings, and more on ao3!

“You’re wearing sunscreen, right?” JJ called from the back of the boat, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Yes. Mother.”

She kept her eyes squeezed shut but she knew he was glowering at her. “Well damn, my bad for not wanting you to get melanoma.”

The boat swayed under her, but as long as she wasn’t reading or wasted, it was quite relaxing. She’d jumped at the chance when JJ offered to take her out on the old dinghy to catch some rays while he did a little fishing.

She lay on the flat stretch on the front of the boat, towel under her to protect her from the wet fiberglass surface. The bikini she’d ordered online ended up having far less coverage than she’d expected—ideal for sunning and wearing around JJ’s sneaky gaze. It wasn’t too hot now that summer had eased off, his tunes had perfectly set the tone for their afternoon, and she was about to lull off to sleep.

Until a putrid smell hit her nose, and she curled up in disgust without trying. “Oh my God, JJ, what the hell are you using for bait?”

“Chitlins,” he announced gleefully, dipping the bucket into the water on the other side of the vessel to rinse the slime out.

She retched. “Smells a little too–” ack! “–fermented to be pig guts. Are you sure they’re not rotten?”

“No, I am not,” he admitted, reaching behind him for the pole and grinning when fish began swarming under the boat. “But if it works, it works.”

Unfortunately proving him right, the lure hadn’t been wet for five minutes before he was pulling in a gorgeous red drum. Small enough for JJ to easily wrangle onto the boat, thwack on the back of the head, and toss in the cooler. “Text Pope and tell him to rev up the deep fryer,” he announced proudly.

Y/N shivered, combing her hair back to tie it up out of her face. “Fine, but I’m complaining about the nightmare I went through to get it.”

“No problem,” he said. JJ reached in the boats seat storage, pushed aside a set of dark, crumpled clothes, and removed a roll of black canvas. He splayed it out on the vessel’s bench, revealing a row of blades, ranging from baby paring knives to needle-like filleters to thick cleavers.

She peered over the metal, coated in innards and blood stains galore. “Cool carrying pouch. Looks pretty handy.”

JJ’s head snapped over. “Did someone say ‘handy’?” he asked excitedly, and she demonstrated an aggressive, squeezing, pepper-grinding motion. “That’s traumatizing. Hey, dude, I totally forgot to clean these from last time. D’you mind washing these off with the Dawn in the glovebox?”

“How am I supposed to rinse them?”

Blink blink. JJ dramatically looked left and right outside the boat. “Surely that’s a joke.”

“The chum water?!”

He scoffed, rolling up the pouch again. “Fine. We can wait until we get back to the dock and use the hose there.” Then, after she turned back, “You’d never survive a trip with John B and I.”

“I’m not sure I’d want to!”

***

Y/N pushed open JJ’s front door without knocking. He wasn’t the type to lounge in the nude or masturbate outside of the bedroom, so she’d gotten used to barging in without any heads-up.

She toed her shoes off to the side and ambled to the kitchen. One hand pulled open the fridge and the other tugged her hair out of its knot atop her head. God, he needs to restock on beer, she thought, opting for a soda instead. The ticking clock on the wall caught her ear just as it passed 4:30. Her fingers drummed on the counter.

After knowing him so long, Y/N was more than comfortable hanging out at JJ’s house alone. She doesn’t intend to; if he’s out, she’s usually with him, and if he’s not, he’s sound asleep in his bed.

But that hasn’t been the case, as of the last few months.

Sometimes, like today, she’ll arrive at an empty place and have to make herself at home. More often, though, he was already there and randomly sprang up with a lame excuse to leave.

“Hey, I’ve gotta go run somewhere. I’ll be right back.”

Short, simple, and used a lot. It wasn’t exactly random, nor frequent, but always unexpected to her. They’d be watching TV together or eating a late-night snack and he’d get really antsy. Before she could ask if he was alright, he’d slip out and come back an hour or so later. JJ is a free man, he can come and go as he pleases, but she still side-eyed him peeling out of the driveway and wondered where he had to be so suddenly.

Y/N flopped on the couch, turning on the TV and setting it to Criminal Minds. Something post-Elle, pre-Ashley. He must’ve been out for ages, because the reruns had her in a deep sleep long before he returned to the house.

The front door opened, the wood crackling in the frame. The stomping noises that followed drew her out of the nap. Her first, panicked thought was that Luke was making a surprise visit before remembering the old bastard had disappeared to fuck-all Atlantic City months ago. It was just JJ.

She sat up on the couch, rubbing at her eyes to force the sleep out of them. “Hey, bud, ‘bout time you came back.”

When she adjusted to the light and finally got a good look at her best friend, she was left with more questions than answers. He stood dumbfounded at the door, like it wasn’t perfectly common for her to be at his house without him. What was even weirder than his demeanor, though, was his entirely-black outfit. From his long-sleeve shirt, to his jeans, to his lace-up boots. Was he carrying gloves?

“Bro, what is that get-up?” she asked, looking up and down at the clothes. He looked good, it seemed to give him a couple inches in height, but definitely wasn’t his normal look. “It’s stylish, can’t lie.”

He stared down at himself. “More subtle at night. You know how I hate attention.”

… Right. JJ carefully pulled the shirt off by the back of the neck and started shamelessly unbuckling his pants. “Can you do me a favor?” he asked, awkwardly sidestepping to the closet with his washer-dryer and dumping the clothes in the unit. “D’you mind getting me some, eh, brighter clothes out of my dresser?”

She nodded, skipping back to his bedroom as he continued awkwardly undressing. Any excuse to be nosy in his belongings.

The top drawer of his dresser had his undergarments, she remembered, but did he want any? She held the white t-shirt and basketball shorts in her hand, eyeing the drawer curiously before pulling it open. Wouldn’t hurt to grab a sock.

She found socks, alright. Along with hefty Ziplocs stuffed with white, flat pills, rocky snow-colored powder tightly wrapped in plastic, not to mention profuse amounts of marijuana in textured, vacuum-sealed bags.

Her jaw was on the floor. Hey, JJ liked to party, that she was well aware. But a lot of this stuff was out of both their wheelhouses, especially in this quantity. This was… this was the stuff Kooks did.

And that’s when it hit her. JJ’s a fucking plug! Duh, that’s where he was always going at random times—probably where he just got back from. Also why he started wearing inconspicuous clothing and why there’s about $5,000 worth of narcotics at her fingertips. She pushed the drawer shut without fetching any socks.

When she returned to the living room, he stood in his boxers, face softly illuminated by the nic between his lips.

“You look pale,” JJ noted around wisps of smoke. “Did you see the Victorian ghost in my room, too?”

“You’re funny,” Y/N stammered, pushing the new change of clothes into his arms and trying not to check his bare body out too much.

When she backed away from him like a rabid animal, he laughed. “No. Seriously. What sex toy of mine did you find in there?”

“JJ, I know what’s going on,” she spat out. How could he keep this from her?

His brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Bro, I saw the drugs. I know you’re a dealer. Clearly with a clientele outside our tax bracket.”

The only sound between them was that stupid washing machine churning around his black clothes. JJ rotated through a few expressions (mostly confusion) before exhaling through his nose and grinning. “Guess you’d find out eventually,” he confessed sheepishly, eyes blinking up at the ceiling.

“Seriously,” she smiled back. “Why didn’t you just tell me? We’ve been smoking for years. You think I’m gonna judge you?”

“Nah, nah, just figured you’d turn me into the IRS for not declaring the income,” he joked, stepping forward to stick his fingers into her sides until she wriggled away. “Now, go pick something for us to watch while I go commando over here.”

“Gross!”

***

Good Lord, what has she walked in on?

Y/N dropped her backpack on the counter, untangling her keys from her fingers and taking in the view. JJ stood redhanded at the sink– literally, he was carefully holding one of his favorite t-shirts, a scarlet souvenir from their sophomore year homecoming game. The teal rubber gloves on his hands weren’t even the most bemusing part, no, that was the domed mask he wore in the comfort of his own kitchen.

“Question one,” she began, eyes flicking back up to his covered face. “Since when do you own dish gloves and N-95s?”

He scowled before realizing the stiff covering was taking the effect away and tugged it down over his chin. “Is it so hard to believe I clean sometimes?”

“Last week you wanted me to wash your Dexter Morgan cutlery with chummy water,” she said pointedly.

“Boat rules.”

“I’ve seen you make scrambled eggs in a dirty pan, and then eat them right from said dirty pan.” He had no retort. “What’re you doing, anyways?”

He bashfully looked back down to the shirt. “Got a little bit of a bloody nose last night,” he admitted, displaying the shirt and its tragic rusty splatters. It was pretty gruesome, but not shocking— she’s seen his face turn into a leaky faucet after a fight back in high school. If only blood actually dried red.

“And the PPE is for these dangerous chemicals I’m handling, obviously.”

The sole bottle on the counter caught her eye. “I wouldn’t use hydrogen peroxide on this. I don’t think it’s colorfast and it may bleach it. Do you have vinegar? You can scrub it with that, and if that doesn’t fully get it out, you can soak it for half an hour before washing it.”

He blinked and pulled the mask off his ears entirely. “Colorfast? What?”

Y/N lifted the soiled shirt and showed it to him. “The dye will bleed. Happens when it’s not high quality. Again, vinegar?”

“Uh, yeah,” JJ shook his head and reached under the sink for the dusty bottle of white vinegar. “How do you know it’s not good dye?”

“Because every white shirt you own is slightly pink, moron.”

***

JJ pulled open the door to the gas station, allowing Y/N to enter by ducking under his arm. The crisp air inside relieved their bodies of the humidity thickly swallowing the world. Goosebumps erupted down her arms and she rolled her shoulders back to shrug them away.

The cashier spoke loudly on the phone, entirely disregarding the two. JJ squinted at her; they’d gone to school with her way back when. Cass, or something. Her father owned the gas station and made her work some grueling ten hours a week, and she repaid him kindly by selling her underage Kook friends any vape they so desperately coveted.

He accidentally locked eyes with the cashier and pulled his sunglasses down over his face. Y/N returned from the fridge carrying an Arizona tea held tightly to her neck. “You look like a douche,” she said, lip curled in annoyance.

“I’m hungover.”

“You weren’t hungover outside. Just say you wanna look like a douche.” She perused over the candy options. “What are you getting? I’m thinking something fruity.”

“You’re always thinking about something fruity.”

“That’s homophobic.”

“How can I be homophobic? My bi–” JJ started, before Cass cut the both of them off.

“Do y’all mind? I’m on the phone,” she snapped, holding her palm over the speaker of her iPhone. “Sorry about that, girl…”

“Cunt,” Y/N whispered, grabbing a bag of watermelon Sour Patch.

The duo dropped their snacks on the counter, and Cass groaned. “Hang on,” she sighed dramatically to her phone, setting the device on the register. She lazily scanned the items, a couple drinks and some bags of candy. “That’ll be $19.55.”

JJ reeled, eyebrows shooting up from behind his aviators. “My ass. You scan everything twice?”

“No,” she said nastily. “If you can’t afford it, that’s not my fault.” The phone erupted in soft giggles, and Cass smirked as she picked it up and tucked it in her back pocket.

Y/N could tell he was itching to draw this out, and made pleading eye contact with him. He rubbed his nose with his thumb, reaching over to the multicolored row of Bics until he landed on a yellow one and wriggled it out of the display. He dropped it on the pile. “That, too.”

She rolled her eyes, scanning the lighter and reading out the new price, also doctored by some poverty tax she’d created on the spot. He paid, tucked his new purchase into his pocket, and grabbed the candy off the counter.

As they left the building, JJ loudly commented, “You’re right. She is a cunt.”

***

They made it back to his house with the snacks just as the OBX amateur sailor’s competition began, which unfortunately turned into local news once the sun set.

The sound of the washing machine hummed just under the television. It seemed to always be running lately, but she never paid it any mind. Sometimes it was a source of entertainment, like when they’d smoke copious amounts of weed together and watch the dark clothes swirl around in soapy water.

JJ grabbed the remote, turning up the volume until it got her to look up from her Switch, which she’d pulled out when the ship with the funniest name fell out of the top 3.

“Have you been seeing this?”

“... is still at large. Authorities state the killer has claimed the lives of six Figure Eight residents in the last three weeks. Victims have been found stabbed, mutilated, and even burned…”

“Some bastard is going around killing Kooks. What kinda fucked up world do we live in?” he tutted, re-silencing the TV and shaking his head disdainfully.

Y/N snorted. “Oh no,” she whined. “What ever will we do?”

“How offensive,” JJ pretended to scoff. “Don’t even care that people are dying.” He pushed his shoulders back, hands on his hips like a disapproving mother. “They can’t be graphic on TV, obviously. Y’wanna know what I heard the killer does? His techniques?”

Her attention to the video game disintegrated. “I don’t care about rumors,” she said, like she wasn’t tucking the device away in the coffee table’s underbelly.

“Rumors?! I have friends on the force,” he insisted. JJ has a loose definition of the word ‘friends’. “This is straight from the experts.”

“Tell me.”

“The killer sneaks into the house after cutting the lights. Locks all the doors so you can’t escape.”

He’s encroaching on her, face dark but a little teasing under it. “They say he uses some kind of knife, maybe a machete. Once he’s got you trapped, he cuts your throat so you can’t even scream. That’s when the disembowelment starts.”

His body eclipses any light from the kitchen behind him, leaving a shining aura around his frizzy blonde hair. He’s standing so still, but his eyes are fluttering all over her.

“Are you trying to turn me on?” she blurted.

His face brightened. “Does it turn you on? ‘Cause I have a Scream mask in my closet, and we can totally rol—”

“I was kidding!” she stopped him, pushing his thighs so he’d back away. It was always her job to pull the brakes on their banter, lest it go past a point of no return. “You know Voorhees is more up my alley, anyways.”

***

JJ scanned the e-ticket with the disinterested teenager working the booth. Another peeked into his backpack looking for firearms and waved him along without detecting the stash of blunts at the bottom.

He threw the bag over his shoulder and ducked into the festival grounds. His friends were already here– he was late, he hadn’t timed his tasks well, but at least they his favorite local band hadn’t gone on yet. He smacked a mosquito on his neck–so it begins. Hopefully Kiara brought that bug spray that smelled like triple sec.

When he caught eye of Y/N, she was waiting by the festival’s entrance, crouched under a tree. Her nose was buried in her phone, and he could tell when she received the I’m here text he shot her, because her head snapped up excitedly. She looked back at the opening act wrapping up, stumbled up onto steady feet, and jogged to him.

“Just in time!” she noted cheerfully. She reached up, throwing her arms around his shoulders and ignoring the sweat on his neck. “Ooh, you smell like gasoline. And…” She sniffed more, looking past the fumes and boy-smell. “Cut grass? Did you mow your lawn before you came here?”

“Kinda. Did some weed-eating,” he corrected. “I blame ADHD for the shitty time management, but I still made it and the yard looks decent,” he explained, lifting the base of his shirt to wipe the moisture off his forehead. When his eyes were covered, she stared dead at his toned stomach and the sunlight bouncing off the droplets collecting there. Why not, right?

“That took you forever. Did you get behind your house, too?”

“Behind the house? You want me to meet my fate with a copperhead? No, just had trouble filling up the gas tank without making a mess.”

“Copperheads aren’t lethal,” she muttered, then looked around at the food and drink stands. She nodded in that direction and he reciprocated, understanding.

Y/N skipped up to the bar, placing her hands on the soaking wet surface and leaning forward to get the attention of the shack’s manager. “Harvey!” she chirped.

“Hey!” the older man greeted, pouring two drinks for her without her even asking. “So good to see you. How’s your mom’n’em all?” They chatted, he waved away the cash she held out to him, and she beamed a smile before taking her treasures back to JJ.

But when she turned back, precariously carrying the two beverages, a large body shoved her to the side and she lost the top inch of both her drinks. She was ready to forgive, given the stranger admitted it was an accident, but this was not the case.

Local rich snob, friend of Rafe and company, Cole Parker. When he looked down at the shaken girl, he scoffed. “Out of the way, you fucking brat. Some of us can actually afford to buy our drinks.”

Her face burned hot as she scurried away, desperate to not catch the ear of any venue security who would dislike Harvey not IDing her.

“Hey,” she muttered to JJ, praying he hadn’t noticed.

The prayers were unanswered. “What happened?” he asked, still sizing up the situation. “What did he say to you?”

“Ignore him,” she demanded and shot a warning look. She pushed the beer into his hands. “C’mon, let’s just find Kiara and Pope.”

His hand squeezed the plastic cup into a misshapen oval at the sound of her voice catching. The tuning of the band’s guitars forced him to follow her, but he wasn’t ready to let this go. It’s unfair that he and his friends had to duck their heads and run whenever Kooks bite first.

Glancing back at the beer stand, Cole was already shouting at the young employee who brought him the wrong drink. What a prick.

***

Y/N thumbed the front doorknob, staring out onto her porch and the flooded yard. It was too dark to see how far the clouds expanded or how long the storm would last. She wished JJ was here– they’d hole up together in her room and watch House of the Dragon episodes, picking through microwave popcorn, jumping at the thunder until they both fell asleep. She let the door fall shut.

Her gaze fell down, attention grabbed by the front hall light’s reflection. A little ring of water had collected at the base of the door. A weary sigh escaped her lips– anyone who said they loved the rain never lived in a crappy house. She padded down the hallway to get towels out of the linen closet. It’s a temporary fix, but better than the water reaching her damn bed while she slept.

As she pulled the rattiest cloths from the back of the closet, the hall light snapped off, leaving her in icy darkness. Fuck, the stupid storm knocked the power out.

There was more towel than water at the moment, but it would pay off if the rain persisted. Once she was satisfied with the fabric arrangement she’d kicked around, her eyes trailed back up to the lock and deadbolt, both securely fastened.

Wait.

She hadn’t done that.

“Sneaks into the house after cutting the lights. Locks all the doors so you can’t escape.”

JJ’s words rang in her head and chills erupted over her body. Surely she was being foolish, right? The killer only targeted Kooks. Maybe, maybe she actually had locked the door and merely forgotten.

Regardless, she stumbled backwards from the door, bumping into one of the living room chairs. Wait, she shouldn’t blindly move backwards. Where was her phone? Should she call JJ? The cops? Nothing had even happened yet. Calling the cops because her door was locked, they’d think she was cra–

No, no, she was absolutely not fucking crazy because there was a figure standing right in front of the big window in her living room. Clear cut, a tall and slim silhouette cutting a man-shaped void in the rainy backdrop, it would be beautiful if her insides weren’t curdling and rotting within her.

Dear God, she wanted to vomit. Her mind flipped through everything she could do and came up with nothing. The doors were locked, God knows where her car keys are, it’d take too long to find her phone. The figure was only a good ten feet away from her. Tears sprung in her eyes— what the fuck does she do now?

The figure decided for her. “Run,” it said.

If the man in her living room had said ‘jump’, she’d ask ‘how high’. Her feet moved faster than her brain, to her disadvantage, because they did not take her in the direction of an exit. She skittered down the hallway to her bedroom, slipping on the floor runner as she bolted.

It didn’t matter, because the intruder was significantly faster than she and caught up in a matter of steps. He pinned her to the wall and she squealed before he placed a hand on her mouth, keeping her from crying out anymore. The man was drenched, still soaked from the rain, and he dripped over her body, her clothes, the floor.

A flash of lightning hit, briefly illuminating the Scream mask the intruder wore, and everything came together.

The bait, and the knife collection. The gasoline smell on his clothes. Fuck, fuck, her head was spinning. The drugs, that massive stash she’d found in his dresser— if he hadn’t been sneaking off to sell, then what? Were those trophies from his conquests? Like it wasn’t enough to just take their lives?

She felt so small under him, more than usual, until she realized he was actually wearing some kind of hefty boot that changed his height. It’s intentional, to throw off anyone who might see him near his victims’ homes. She wailed, but it was mangled behind her sealed lips. He removed his hand from her mouth and lifted the mask, revealing her bright-eyed, grinning best friend.

“Guess where I just came from.”

When nothing came out of her gaped mouth, he showed a gloved hand and dragged the thumb across his face. In the low light, she could see a dark streak painted on his cheek. Blood.

“Jesus fucking Christ, please tell me it wasn’t Cole Parker’s house,” she pleaded, fat tears rolling down her face.

“Wow. You are the world’s best guesser,” he noted. “C’mon, doll, don’t be upset. Remember how he treated you yesterday? Now he can’t do that to anyone ever again.”

She sobbed out louder, wiggling to escape his grasp. No use. “Please, don’t hurt me, please,” she babbled.

“Stop crying,” he snapped, then shook his head. “Shh, shh, I’m sorry. Look, I’m not gonna hurt you. I’d never hurt you. You’re my favorite girl in the world, y’know that?”

“Y- you made me wash the knives,” she bawled, and he had to stop and think back to what she was talking about. “And the t-shirt!”

He snorted. “Hey, you offered to wash my shirt.”

“But JJ, you can’t…” she trailed off, voice high and pathetic.

“What? I can’t what?” he demanded. “Get a little revenge on the people who’ve made our lives hell? Levels out the playing field, and I get to blow off steam.”

She was quiet, panting and staring up at him with bewildered eyes. He let her process everything, accept the huge revelation she’d just come to. Lightning flashed again, and they both held their breath in anticipation of the succeeding thunder explosion. The lack of power left the home eerily silent, no fans or appliances whirring to fill the emptiness. All that was left was the sound of her gasps slowly evening out.

“What if you get caught?” she asked meekly.

JJ’s smirk came back. “Sweetheart, I’m never gonna get caught.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How many times have you done it?”

It’s a challenge. She’s asking partially to check his credibility, sure, but there’s something else to it. Curiosity, her gaze shifting from scared and threatened to… intrigued. Maybe a little into it?

So he pushed back. He leaned down, getting close enough to her ear that the plastic mask he wore knocked on her temple. No harm in being honest now.

“Ten,” he whispered.

He felt her shiver under him, body arching instinctively into his own. “No, no, don’t tell me you enjoy that,” he shook his head mock-disappointedly. “You like the fact that your best friend is a murderer?”

Her head knocked back against the wall, eyes shutting guiltily as he drew out that last word. JJ’s hand raised, the soft leather connecting with her skin. He painted the same streak on her face that he bore, just so they’d match.

“I’m not sorry about Parker,” he said, daring to leave a kiss on her clean cheek. “I’d beat his fucking face in again, and again, and again. And anyone else who thought about trying me.”

She finally touched him, stopped cowering away like her brain told her to. Instead, she gripped at his wet, dark clothes and sought for zippers, hems, anything to get them off him.

JJ scoffed, unable to enjoy a moment without getting complacent to save his life. “Oh, now you want me, pretty girl? Now that you think I’m cold-blooded?”

“Always wanted you, JJ,” she whined, giving up and pulling his jacket up from the bottom. Her hands found contact at least with his torso, feeling the chilly skin and trying to warm him up. “Didn’t know you cared enough about me to do something like that.”

He lightly dug his teeth into the skin on her neck, having to crane down to reach in those stupid shoes. “You have no idea what I’d do for you.”

And she got a little confident. Her hand plunged down to palm roughly against the black denim covering his zipper. To her delight, he was caught off guard, groaning in pleasure and pushing his hips for more purchase. She shimmied down, pushing him away from her enough to fall to her knees.

JJ couldn’t believe what was happening before his eyes. He lifted his hand once more, bringing the leather-covered middle finger to her lips. She obeyed his silent command, biting the tip of the glove with her front teeth and pulling it off his hand.

She spat the glove onto her floor, metallic taste dancing over the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t care. His now-free hand entangled itself into her hair, tilting her head back to look up at him. “Such a good girl for me. Knew you’d understand.”

The button and zipper on his jeans popped open after some struggling from her, and she pulled down his boxers until his leaking cock was in her hand. He got lightheaded—fuck, his best friend of years, who just found out he’s been on a killing spree, is about to suck him off. Butterflies filled his stomach for the first time in ages.

Tentative at first, she held him in her left hand and guided the tip to her eager tongue. Her lips closed around him and his eyes rolled back into his skull when he realized how fucking good at this she was. She licked at the head while sucking him as far back as she could comfortably manage, and when her tongue perfectly found that one spot on the bottom, he audibly let out an “oh fuck”.

Is she touching herself right now? JJ slammed his still-gloved hand on the wood panel in front of him for stability. For a moment, his brain went on red alert thinking of the blood smearing on the wall but then she literally swallowed around his cock and he decided he’d hang a fucking picture over it for all he cared.

Enough was enough. He threaded his free hand through her hair and tugged her off, to her whimpering protests. “None of that. Ladies first.”

Together, they ducked into her bedroom, and JJ pulled the jacket and t-shirt off of his body. He’d continue this fully clothed if the threat of pneumonia didn’t loom over him. His boots and the other glove went too.

She waited for him, toes digging into the hardwood floor and hands wringing each other out. When he suggested she take her shirt off, she obeyed without thinking, and a blessed flash of lightning illuminated her body when her face was covered by the fabric. He stared hungrily—why not, right?

JJ tugged down his jeans, and when he was just left in his boxers, she softly gasped. His head snapped up. “S’that why you’d been doing so much laundry?” she asked, doe-eyed.

He laughed, pressing a finger to his lips and using the other hand to cup the back of her head. “C’mon, don’t think about my laundry right now. Don’t think about any of that. Think about this.” His hand dropped down to her covered mound, the only part of her body that had a bit of fabric on it. With his middle digit, he pressed in, right on her clit and her brain melted again.

JJ walked her backwards to the bed and she flopped down eagerly. He dropped down to be face-to-face with her panties, fingers running eagerly over the cotton covering her mound. He gathered the fabric and pulled it upwards, taut against her clit. She gasped, pushing down to meet his actions.

“Please, more,” she whispered, and he was happy to comply. Teasing was for people who had patience, and he didn’t have an ounce of that in his body right now.

JJ pulled down her panties only enough to get off one ankle. Maybe next time he’d keep the pair for himself, but he didn’t have a pocket available right now. A hand on each thigh, he exposed her to himself again, and wasted not a second pushing his face into her cunt.

She gasped, body arching away to keep him from where she was so sensitive, but his mouth followed. The only breaks she got were when he stopped sucking her clit to kiss around the rest of her pussy. His hips rolled into the mattress when she started making the best fucking noises, and he didn’t stop her when she held him in place with her thighs, or when she pulled at his hair with her wandering, desperate hands.

“Mm, you’re not so scary after all,” she noted, teasing smile on her lips. JJ pushed his middle finger inside her without warning and she choked on her own breath.

His eyebrow raised. “Fine. I can be a little mean to you.”

He withdrew himself and she curled up to him out of desperation. JJ tutted at her and motioned for her to flip over and her eyes widened. Before she could comply, he impatiently grabbed her hips and did it for her.

She started to lay on the bed, but he scoffed and pulled her up by the waist so that her back pressed against his chest. If not for his boxers, his cock would be perfectly aligned with her ass, but this was more than enough for him. His free hand dove down to keep dragging his wet fingers over her pudgy clit. She wasn’t going anywhere, not with the grip he had on her, but she still desperately clung to his supporting arm. His gliding fingers slipped right into her wet cunt, providing almost no resistance as he stretched her open.

Boneless. Head tossed back onto his shoulder, arms dropped in front of her, and JJ took this opportunity. The hand that wasn’t pushing two thick fingers into her hole snugly wrapped around her throat, tenderly keeping her in place as he threatened to draw a world-shattering orgasm from her while hardly trying.

“Y’like when I hold you like this, sweetheart?” he asked, lips buried in her hair. The soft breaths around his words ghosted the shell of her ear and goosebumps erupted on her skin.

“Pleasedon’tstopI’mgonnacum,” she cried, body tensing and warping back to touch him.

Her stream of babbling continued as her orgasm coursed through her, and JJ grinned smugly with the feeling of her swollen clit pulsing under his slick fingers. When her words slowed and so did her muscles fidgeting, he slapped her sensitive core. Can’t be too nice.

Still, he let her cool down, kissed on her neck and thumbed at her skin with the arm tucked around her. She finally tapped him when it was okay to keep going.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, ready to bend her forward, but she resisted and looked back at him. “Are you alright?” he spat out nervously, wondering if he’d been too rough or gone too far—

Nope. She leaned over the edge of the bed and fished through the pile of clothes that had been yanked off in his scramble to undress. His eyes narrowed, struggling to see what she was coyly presenting him, and his jaw dropped when he realized it was the Scream mask he wore earlier.

No one could smack the glee out of him. He took the mask and pulled it back over his face while she got back in position with her ass up. JJ aligned himself once more, gliding the silky tip against her entrance. “Fuck, doll, you’re so wet. This all for me?”

“Mm, who else?” she purred, slyly turned towards him.

Fuck, he’s really starting to rub off on her. He had to pretend that the tight grip on her ass was to be sexy and not steady himself. He’s never been so nervous lining himself up– this was her, after all.

Air sucked into his chest when he glanced down to see himself disappearing inside her. It was dark, thank God, because if his view was even the slightest bit clearer, he’d finish instantly. She parted around him so hungrily, like she was pulling him in by his cock. The grip he had on her hips tightened and he resorted to straining a look at her face dug into the bed sheets instead.

Every roll of his hips rang out a new slap around the bedroom. JJ smirked at the delicious noise. “So wet, fuck. Can’t tell if it’s you or me.”

It was both of them. Droplets still covered his thighs even after removing the clothes, and the sound of their legs colliding combined with the sounds of her own cunt. Her legs shook as he continued to assault her pussy, the din spurring him along.

Her second orgasm came crashing over her unexpectedly, pulled from her body with ease as he kept his rhythm splitting her open.

After she came, all bets were off. His pace lost its rhythm at the same time he completely lost his cool and the only thing on his mind was how long he could’ve been stretching her open on his cock. The whole time they’d been just awkwardly checking each other out and shacking up together, and now every fantasy he’s been tormented with is a reality. JJ pulled his cock out and painted her back with cum, body spasming and rough ohfuckfeelssogoodsweetheart muttering spilling out of his mouth.

Y/N’s spent body collapsed onto the bed, disregarding the mess he’d just made. Ever-so-polite JJ used his wet t-shirt to wipe her down before joining her, but both were too fucked-out to care about proper clean-up. Before she could fall asleep, though, he had something important to ask her.

“Hey, sweetheart? When I reset the fuse box, can I use your washing machine?”

[mysteryfawn]

hauhaauh,, i freaking adore your layout so so much <:-),, maybe perhaps -- a chance x reader oneshot where the reader's quite .. overworked / stressed with some stuff and chance tries to cheer buddy up.. "just try your luck!" and the "im unlucky as ill ever be" :brokem_heart: chance makes em ill........../pos

BWAHHH thank you smsm!!! it means a lot, I tried to make this a bit emotional!!! I hope you enjoy it <3 (chance... sighs dreamily /silly) --- RED = Chance

Muffled speaking came from the TV, which slightly lit up the dark living room… The sounds of slight snoring echoed throughout the cabin, the owner of such sounds was one specific gambler, one sleeping on his partner’s couch.

Chance was originally going to surprise you by gifting you some cake and flowers, for absolutely no reason (He shot Mafioso 3 times in a row). Anywho, he ended up collapsing on your couch after waiting until 8 PM, it wasn’t his plan to doze off, but the long wait beckoned him to take a nap.

His eyes shot up due to a loud sound of a door being closed shut harshly, scaring him a tiny bit, but ultimately, he knew who had finally arrived home. Lifting his body, Chance turned off the television, swept off the imaginary dust from his clothes, and adjusted his hair slightly, his face changing to the iconic smirk he always wears.

“Took you long enough!” The gambler started, chuckling before quickly shutting up upon looking at your disheveled and tired figure… ‘Oh dear, it was one of those days, wasn’t it?’ thought the white-haired man, sighing softly.

Walking up to you, Chance helped you take off your bags, shoes and coat, guiding you to the dinner table to sit down and eat the red-velvet cake he baked. “How are you?” The gambler started simple, trying to not overwhelm you with questions.

You stayed silent for a bit, coldly staring at the cake, trying to collect your thoughts. Chance cut a slice for you, setting it on a tiny plate with a fork for you to enjoy… Taking tiny bites of it, your mood slightly upgraded, allowing you to respond to your lover’s question.

“Fine… Just-” You couldn’t complete the sentence, your voice low from exhaustion and hesitation, and your objective set on sleeping for an eternity, but that wasn’t something your consoling boyfriend would let happen.

“Speak to me, dove… What’s wrong?” Chance asked, offering a sweet smile. “Well, the rest of the survivors have been keen on making sure I know they don’t care about me, and the stupid killers are always killing me off first because APPARENTLY!-” You took a breath, attempting to calm down, “apparently… I’m the easiest to kill.” You trailed off, speaking your mind angrily, talking about how you always try your hardest but nothing is ever enough.

After you finished with your rant, Chance kept quiet, looking at your eyes that were struggling to contain your tears. “Y’know… When I first got here, they did the same with me, it took a pretty long while for them to even accept me as another survivor!-”

“I’ve been here for a year already.” You interrupted, quietly but strictly.

“Look, darling, they’re assholes… We’re all going insane in this place, but at least you got me and I got you!” Chance paused, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You can’t please everyone, and you don’t have to either… And for the killers, I can teach you how to wield a flintlock!” The gambler inched closer to you, his chair touching yours.

“Ya gotta try your luck, and who knows, maybe if you shoot enough monsters and save enough people, they’re gonna respect you!” Chance smirked, giving you a side hug as he already started daydreaming about you shooting Mafioso.

“I’m as unlucky as I’ll ever be, Chance…” You muttered, sighing deeply in defeat, thinking about how many times his gun will explode in your face instead of working properly. The gambler stayed quiet for a bit, but quickly got up from his seat, offering a hand for you.

As you held his hand, he brought you towards your couch, falling on it and dragging you down with him, gaining a squeal of surprise from you. Holding you close to his chest, he planted a small kiss on your forehead.

“Dove, you’re not that unlucky, you got me, remember?” Chance chuckled, cuddling with you as you giggled lightly… He was right, and he knew it, you knew it. You lifted yourself to his face, kissing his lips softly, before closing your eyes as you set your face into his neck comfortably, dozing off with him.

[lordprettyflackotara]

criminal || Jeff the killer

smut 18+, minors dni, PLEASE READ: TW: CNC, FACE FUCKING, gun play?, bank robbery, kidnapping at the end

Jeff the killer knew he was good at what he did.

He was good at killing people quickly.

Or making them suffer, depending on which he was in the mood for.

What Jeff wasn’t good at however, was two things.

1. Listening to an order.

2. Having patience.

Of course he tried his hardest to suck it up, listening to almost all of Slender’s commands without a second thought.

Those commands usually involved things he was good at.

Except for today.

Jeff grumbled unhappily to himself in the front seat of the toyota Ben managed to buy off of craigslist.

Robbery was the proxies job, not Jeff’s.

So imagine Jeff’s surprise when his latest order was to rob the local bank right before closing.

It wasn’t that the mission was hard.

Yet, he couldn’t help but feel annoyed that he was chosen for the job.

Eyeless Jack had been chosen as his getaway driver. Not out of choice but out of convenience.

Apparently Masky had been shot a couple of times the last mission they were on and Hoody has been moping around ever since. Since Toby wasn’t trusted enough to complete this kind of task alone, Jeff was the next runner up in Slender’s eyes.

Tasks like this were the closest Slenderman could get to getting Jeff as a proxy. So naturally he took what he could.

EJ was never normally a blabber to Jeff. Whether or not Jeff would come and say it outright, EJ was probably his favorite at the mansion. He wasn’t insufferable, usually keeping to himself and complying with Jeff’s odd favors.

However during this car ride, Jeff couldn’t help but consider Eyeless Jack to be yapping.

For some odd reason, EJ wasn’t in the mood to be ignoring Jeff’s usual disdain and grumpiness. Instead he chose to ramble on about his latest kill and the medical discoveries he had made.

On a typical Tuesday evening Jeff would’ve told him to shut the fuck up. But he was so miserable being assigned this task in the first place, he found himself holding his tongue.

The dim street lights were the only source of light on the street they rode down, the car not having headlights. Ben deemed them not to be necessary. It was almost comical watching EJ try to navigate the road without them.

Jeff unhappily reached into the glovebox, pulling out a black face mask and pair of sunglasses. If he had things go his way, he would’ve been wearing a ski mask. Unfortunately Slender disagreed, his concern revolving around not even making it into the bank itself.

He shoved the face mask on, the tips of his raw uncut smile peaking out near his ears. He put the sunglasses on, before grabbing the traditional black sack and hand gun Masky had lent him. Jeff thought the 1930’s sack was a little lame, but it was practical.

Jeff forced himself out of the car, quietly shutting the door behind him. EJ rolled down the window, deciding to remind Jeff of what they were doing.

“Alright look, just go in there, get the money so we can go,” EJ said firmly, the words catching Jeff’s attention.

Jeff mumbled an annoyed agreement, deciding it would be best to go ahead and walk on in.

“Hey Jeff?” EJ called. Jeff gritted his teeth in irritation, quickly turning around.

“What?!”

If EJ had eyes, he would’ve rolled them.

“Don’t kill nobody this time,”

Jeff shoved off his request, shoving his last mission filling in for the proxies in the back of his mind. It wasn’t his fault that Slender put him on a proxy mission. He also didn’t specify that he had to leave all the hostages alive.

Jeff muttered curses under his breath, mainly insulting EJ, before deciding to whistle.

He strolled into the bank casually, the hand gun tucked into his back waistband.

You were closing up for the night, the sight of Jeff annoying you. You had counted every drawer except for your own, and now you’d have to stay past closing. You brushed off your pencil skirt, painting on your best customer service smile.

“Hi, how can I help you?” You asked. You were puzzled by Jeff’s appearance, the sunglasses throwing you off. You wanted to assume the best, thinking he possibly blind and cautious of infections.

Jeff could hardly contain his excitement once he saw you. You had such a lovely face, your smile bright and filling him with ease. Your delicious thighs were covered by your black pencil skirt, your hair in a tight professional ponytail. He was smiling under his mask, a genuine one that wasn’t carved on.

“I’d like to make a withdrawal,” Jeff said calmly, his voice smooth like butter. His eyes scanned the bank quickly, realizing you were the only one there. Jeff mentally cursed to himself as he realized he hadn’t gotten out of the mansion much lately.

He could feel heat rushing to his cheeks as he looked at you, your curious eyes searching his covered face for further elaboration. Even in your modest uniform, Jeff could see your natural curves. How long had it been since he had been around a normal girl? One without a clock for an eye or burnt pale skin like his?

“Sir are you okay-” You began to ask, before your eyes fluttered down to his crotch. His boner was poking not so discreetly through his black jeans, your face flushing pink. Your surprised look snapped Jeff out of his daze, causing him to quickly yank his gun out of his back waistband.

“Put the fucking money in the bag bitch and no one gets hurt,” Jeff growled, shoving the bag at you. Fear crashed down over you like a violent wave as tears prickled in your eyes quickly. Your hands shook as you grabbed the keys to your cash drawer, struggling to insert the key into the keyhole.

Jeff watched in awe as you struggled to miss the keyhole for a third time. He rolled his eyes. “Useless bitch do I have to do everything? Give it to me,” He sighed. You held out the keys hesitantly, your body shaking in fear and an odd arousal as you heard him talk more. He unlocked the cash drawer, before turning his attention back to you.

“I’m not going to touch it. Put it in the fucking sack before I blow your head off,” Jeff spat. He stepped out of the way, his boner not going down. You grabbed handfuls of cash, shoving them in Jeff’s sack. He watched as you bent over, your ass looking great through your tight uniform.

“Please don’t kill me,” You whispered, tears finally falling from your waterline. Jeff contemplated his options, remembering Slenderman’s and EJ’s warnings. You were cute after all, even for a little bank teller.

“Maybe we can work something out doll,” Jeff’s pale hand stroked your face as you shoved more stacks of money into the bag. His touch felt disgusting, but his words were like pure honey. “What d-do you want?” You stuttered. You finished emptying out your drawer, turning to him and handing him the money.

Jeff towered over you, his ashy black hair hanging over his forehead and top of his sunglasses.

“Well doll, you’ve created a problem for me you see,” Jeff purred. He grabbed your tiny hand, placing it over his aching boner. Just your touch was enough to make him shift in place. Your face went bright red, your eyes widening. “I c-can’t just let you fuck me. There are cameras everywhere. I’ll be humiliated-” You began rambling, afraid that this conversation wasn’t a negation.

Jeff glanced down at the plentiful stacks of money in the bag, figuring spending a few extra minutes with you would be a decent reward. “I’m a man of compromise,” Jeff offered. He was itching to pull the trigger on the gun he was holding at your head, but taking out a camera or two would have to do for now.

He shot at the cameras on each side behind the desk, leaving only the main one in the lobby on. Jeff mentally thanked Masky for the silencer on his main gun, as it gave him more time with you. “No cameras, and as much as i’d love to ruin your tight pussy, no sex. Knees doll,” Jeff grunted. He was having a hard time adjusting to negation with a regular human, but your puppy eyes full of tears were just too darling for him to ignore.

You wanted to be disgusted by the situation, to be kicking and screaming. But something about Jeff, the way he talked and moved had you aching for more. Your bare knees hit the raw carpet, promising rug burn on your skin. Your hands were still shaking as you began to undo his belt, the killer staring down at you eagerly.

You slowly unzipped his zipper, the two of you working together to pull down his pants. “I don’t have all night,” Jeff told you impatiently. You squirmed to have him fully revealed in front of you, his cock hard in front of your face. His tip was a pinkish color, while the rest of his shaft matched the rest of his pale white skin. You slowly took him in your mouth, screwing your eyes shut. Jeff let out a quiet groan, a string of curses following behind it.

“Nuh uh doll, open those pretty eyes f’me,” Jeff ordered, trying to sound stern as you bobbed your head up and down his cock. You weren’t half bad for a little bank teller, your nipples poking through your button up as you struggled to keep your eyes on the man standing before you. Jeff grabbed your slicked back ponytail, forcing you to take more of him.

“Thats it, take it all,” Jeff murmured, licking his lips under his mask. You forced your jaw to go slack, his fingers tightly yanking at your hair. “I’d relax if I were you, unfortunately for you I don’t have all night,” Jeff sighed. You almost raised one eyebrow, before his shaft forced itself down your throat. Your waterline filled with tears immediately, your nose touching his black curls.

Jeff sighed in relief at the sensation of your tight throat, his hips beginning to buck on their own. You listened obediently, staring up at him as he throat fucked you. You struggled to breathe, a burning sensation clouding your nose. “You know, you’re actually pretty good at this,” Jeff snickered. He pulled out briefly, offering you the reward of breathing.

You gasped like a fish out of water, inhaling as much oxygen as you could. A foul mixture of saliva and drool pooled under the carpet beneath you, soaking it. Jeff considered praising you, complimenting how pretty you looked like this. Your face all red, hair messy, covered in tears and spit. But as the thought crossed his mind, there was only one other thing he would like your face coated in.

Jeff forced your head back onto his cock, continuously face fucking you as he pleased. He could feel himself getting closer, his hips stuttering. In the far distance he heard the sound of police sirens, causing him to grit his teeth in annoyance. “I’d love to paint your face doll, but I can’t leave any DNA behind. You understand right?” Jeff asked mockingly.

You almost mentally asked what he meant, before his tip hit the back of your throat one final time. His seed was warm and salty, causing you to gag at the slightest taste your tongue had the displeasure of sensing. He stayed lodged in your throat for a moment, enjoying watching you struggle to swallow him all.

Jeff snickered as he pulled out of your mouth, your knees raw with rug burn and your throat desperately trying to swallow his cum.

You panted as you looked up at him, the police sirens getting closer. He fixed himself up, extending a hand for you to take. You stared at him curiously, forgetting your situation and taking his hand.

“I’m not allowed to kill anyone. And now that you’ve seen me, you’re a liability,” Jeff told you. Your eyes darted back and forth at his sunglasses, searching for a look of his orbs.

“Looks like you’re going to have to come with me. You’ve grown on me anyways,” Jeff huffed. In a swift motion he threw you over his shoulder, dragging you and the bag of money to EJ’s car.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Make Him Better Looking｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x plus size reader

Truth serum plus hidden feelings and a major amount of lust for your best friend is bound to end well

Warnings: truth serum, reader is hornee, implied smut, size kink, Sam is taller than the reader, explicit thoughts, mutual pining, mentions of a hunt

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Falling in love with Sam had been easy- not only was he stupidly handsome with those big hazel puppy dog eyes and a killer body, but he was kind and he was smart. He loved with his whole soul and would do anything for anyone, even after all the shit he had been through. 

What hadn’t been easy, however, was just how horny you got every time you even thought of the giant hunter let alone be around him. If he was tracing lines in a book to keep his place, you thought about what his fingers would feel like inside of you. If he was working out, you wondered if he would make those same noises in bed. And worst of all was when he was talking animatedly about something, his entire body came alive with passion and excitement. His eyes sparkled and his smile was always huge. And yet all you could think about was having his face between your thick thighs, talking into your cunt as he feasted. 

Needless to say, you had absolutely destroyed your scant collection of toys and taken more cold showers than warm. Eventually, you had to reach your breaking point.

It had been a witch hunt in Arkansas that went slightly wrong. People all around town were suddenly compelled to tell everyone around them their darkest secrets, ruining their lives in the process. It was a pretty simple cut and dry witch who had some vendetta against liars so she was forcing everyone to tell the truth. You and Jody picked up the hunt as some kind of demented girl’s trip and it mostly went off without a hitch. At least until the witch got you with a truth spell right before the sheriff dropped her.

You had arrived back home with your mouth practically sewn shut in an attempt to keep yourself from telling the boys your innermost thoughts until the spell wore off (which Jody assured you that it would be a couple days at most). Claire and Alex already had their fun asking you questions that you could no longer lie in response to, leading to them learning why there’s a bottle of deluded bleach and air freshener in the back of the Impala and the ‘no tequila after midnight’ rule. 

Dean quickly discovered your ailment after you bluntly told him that his new orange flannel and grown out hair made him look like an oversized carrot, and he was determined to break you. But unfortunately for him, you were a hell of a lot smarter than him and could find ways to easily distract him.

You and Dean sat across from each other at the library table, eyes locked to each other as you both desperately tried not to blink. A game born out of desperation not to reveal your darkest secrets and childish rivalry but with a month’s worth of laundry on the line, the game was a matter of life or death. Your eyes burned as you struggled to keep them open but you refused to back down now, especially when Dean’s face had begun to turn red with the strain, you knew he was close to breaking.

Then, disaster struck. Right as his eyelids began to twitch with the need to blink, Sam walked into the library wearing a tight white shirt and grey sweatpants and obviously not wearing briefs. Immediately your mouth went dry as your concentration was broken. You didn’t even hear Dean cheer that he won, you just kept looking at his  brother who was now browsing the many shelves for something to read.

Dean rubbed at his eyes while glancing at his younger brother before sarcastically remarking. “Looking good Sammy.” Sam responded with a scoff, returning to his search and letting you get a glimpse of his perky backside.

The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, spilling out of your dirty mind like an unstoppable river. “Goddamn, how about you bring that perfect ass over here and I’ll tell you how I can make you look even better.” Everyone froze, including you, and then you opened your mouth again. “You’d look hotter with me sitting on your face.”

Silence settled over the bunker, your veins filled with dread. “Oh god please ignore that I said that- well actually, I don’t want you to ignore it. I really do want to sit on your face but right now I really want to throw myself off a cliff. So I think I’m gonna go do that. Have a nice life boys.” You went to slip from your chair but suddenly your wide hips were pinned to the edge of the table but two huge hands.

Sam loomed over you, his eyes dark with lust as he smirked down at you. “Now why would you go and do that when we could test your little theory.” Your breath caught in your throat. He dipped down, bringing his face to yours until you were close enough to feel his breath on your lips. 

“I-“ You stammered. Wetness pooled between your thighs as he stepped even closer, pressing his hardening cock to your soft body. 

“Oh what is it baby? Can’t speak anymore? Don’t worry, you won’t be able to stop making sounds when my mouth is on your cunt.” He growled into your ear.

Neither you nor Sam noticed when Dean sprung to his feet and ran off into the depths of the bunker to escape the very obvious tension on the brink of exploding between you. Your fingers tentatively curled into his shirt, making his smile grow. “That’s a good girl, now how about you go to my room and get undressed. I wanna see if you get even more beautiful when you’re on top of me.” 

——————

Sam had always found you incredibly intoxicating but even more so now. You were dead asleep on his chest, your breaths even as you slumbered on. Sam took pride in your exhaustion considering he was the cause. He gently stroked the soft skin of your hip, tracing over the texture of your stretch marks delicately as to not wake you. 

You sighed in your sleep, nuzzling closer to his bare chest. He kissed the top of your head and with a great amount of care, slipped from your hold. You stirred only for a moment before settling once more. He dressed quietly and slipped out of his room.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen drawing him in like a siren. “Morning.” He muttered as he wandered in, shooting his brother a glance. Dean nodded at him from his place at the small table, drinking his coffee silently.

As Sam poured two mugs of the bitter drink, he spoke again. “She was right, you know.” Dean hummed and looked up at him curiously. “I do look better when she sits on my face.”

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[xyfanficarchive]

unlucky seven

(Mouthwashing) Jimmy/F!Reader

Words: 1293

Summary: After you went missing, Jimmy has viewed six bodies attempting to identify you. He still has hope that you’ll come back to him.

Content Warnings: healing!jimmy, hurt no comfort, implied murder

Notes: might be cringe might be ooc but idgaf. this was in my head. this is the kinda shit i imagine as im lying in bed going to sleep snork mimimimi. unedited. i love giving him good things, i also love taking them away and making him suffer ❤️

Two weeks ago was the last time he'd seen you. When the cops found your ID and belongings, bloodied clothes in a dumpster across town, your missing person case turned into a homicide investigation.

Jimmy had been to every morgue in the city at this point, had viewed six Jane Does, colourless and laid all square as they were pulled out from refrigeration. None of them were you. It's a gruesome business that he didn't particularly enjoy, viewing these random dead women, but a necessary part of the process; your parents were far away in a different country and he was the only one who knew your face intimately enough to prove that you were in fact absent from the cold chamber.

He had something to thank those unidentified women for, at least: each of their corpses not being you strengthened his conviction that you were going to turn up. Fuck what the cops said, you were the only good thing that ever happened to him, the best thing he'd ever had and held and he didn't give a fuck about their opinion, especially not after they interrogated him like he was your killer. Clearly they had no fucking clue what they were talking about. You were going to turn up, probably not safe or sound, and you probably wouldn't be the same, but you would be alive, and if you had shown him anything it was that if someone was changed for the worse, they could always be changed for the better after. Hope is what you'd given him and it was alive and vigorous, pulsing defiantly in his chest. He was going to have and hold you again.

It’s why he holds his chin up and walks across the mortuary floor with an air of confidence, even boredom, as he’s led to the wall of morbid fridge doors by the attendant and detective. Sterile stainless steel surfaces gleam dully all around them. Curly, who’d insisted on coming with him for “support” every time, is less sure as he trails behind, his nice leather shoes clacking against the tile. Don’t they make a pair; Curly in a woolen pea coat and cashmere scarf and Jimmy in a cheapo parka all wearing out at the seams, as they stand side by side across from the attendant, who is warning them so very carefully about what they’re about to see. Jimmy resists rolling his eyes. “Just get on with it so I can go home already,” he’s thinking, just before the attendant pulls the handle and rolls the body out in its bag.

So cautious and gentle is the attendant as he unzips the bag.

Curly flinches away at the sight, his hand snapping up to cover his eyes as he groans and turns away.

Jimmy is frozen still as neurons fire.

Animal instinct, he runs. Runs like mortal peril itself is lying on that slab, like reality is dissolving just behind his heels. The detective moves to intercept him but there’s a shout as Jimmy pushes past, shoving him to the floor.

“That’s- that’s her. Fuck!” Curly curses, strained. He sneaks one last ill-advised glance and screws his eyes shut again - underneath the splotchy bruises and misaligned nose and jaw it’s unmistakable. Behind him Jimmy leans weak-kneed grasping at the exit door frame, doubles over and retches once before the vomit comes up and splatters on the floor. Then he disappears from the room, the door slamming behind him with jarring finality that leaves the morgue silent as death.

Adrenaline propels him up the stairs and through blurry hospital halls and out into the snow. And he runs. And he keeps running. “I’ll just run forever,” the voice says, small as a boy, from inside the eye of the storm. But the universe has other plans for him, a chunk of compacted snow has him crashing and rolling across the frigid ground. His aging ankle screams, there’s a terrible snap from somewhere in his wrist, freezing hard snow abrades his cheek and he tastes blood in his mouth. With the breath stolen from his lungs, he lies on his back struggling for air. And grinning like a wolf, caustic and violent, the world-destroying despair that pursued him catches up, descending upon him and piercing him right through.

When he leaves the hospital, Curly only has to follow the sound; somewhere, a man is screaming, wailing in anguish. He follows it out to a field, dotted with dormant trees. In the summertime, it’s a sprawling, blooming garden on the hospital grounds, but it’s bleak and barren in the cold grey light of this winter day, thick with overcast clouds. Jimmy is a silhouette in the distance, small and crumpled like a crushed insect. “This is bad. This is really bad,” Curly worries. There’s a tense, creeping feeling of horror in his gut as he approaches. The sight of Jimmy like this is so deeply unfamiliar it’s like an unsettling, uncanny valley sensation, as if something not quite human has crawled into his skin and taken over.

As he draws nearer, something becomes clear: as he’s curled up on his knees doubled over with his forehead almost kissing the ground, hands white knuckle tangled through his brown hair damn near tearing his own scalp off, he’s not just screaming, open mouthed and raw. After every ragged, heaving inhale is a word, “Why? Why?,” ripping from Jimmy’s throat. Curly’s heart breaks for his best friend. His mind is racing with every step trying to tease out the right thing to say, to soothe, to tame the man before him. He’s fixed a lot of things for Jimmy, and this was going to be his hardest task yet.

He begins softly as he approaches, and makes to kneel down next to him. “Jim. Jim. Listen, we-”

“SHUTTHEFUCKUP! SHUTTHEFUCKUP! DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME! DON’T FUCKING COME NEAR ME!!” Jim screams as he whips around, the words pressured and slurred as they bang into each other on the way out. His hazel eyes are crazed, like he’s not all there, pink-tinged spittle flying from his mouth. Curly backs away, heart palpitating in fear, as Jimmy begins to rise to his feet, rabid and rageful. “TOUCH ME AND I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU AND I’LL KILL MYSELF I DON’T-” He cuts off with a cry of pain, almost to his feet, the weight on his ankle has sent him collapsing to the ground again. For a few tense seconds, he seethes into the snow, clenching his fists, attempting to rise once more, until finally he goes limp, and devolves into desperate sobs.

For once, Curly thinks better: there is nothing, nothing he can say, nothing he can do right now, that will save Jimmy. He lost a love, and Curly doesn’t understand that. Still, he wouldn’t dare leave. He kneels down before his friend, and cautiously reaches his hand out to rest it on his back. This time, there are no threats. Jimmy is inconsolable, but still, he crawls to close the remaining distance and clings to Curly like he’s the very last thing mooring him to the Earth. The tears well up in Curly’s own blue eyes and fall, as he encloses his arms around Jim.

Despite this small act of reaching out, of accepting the comfort offered, somewhere deep inside Curly knows that there is no coming back for Jimmy. You were good for him. You effortlessly inspired something in Jimmy that Curly had worked so very hard for to no avail; growth, something that budded within him, green and tender and vulnerable, in the slow process of unfurling, and so unceremoniously cut down in the basement of that hospital. Something critical inside Jimmy died with you.

[sillyguystrawb]

Normally I talk about TicciJack in a poly-ship setting where Toby dates both Eyeless Jack and Clockwork, but this time I'm just gonna be thinking about Eyeless Jack and Ticci Toby as a monogamous couple because that's also cute to me too <3

Hey @reddetur this one's for you

Ok Ticci Toby X Eyeless Jack ramblings, thoughts, ideas, etc. because I have problems and I'm gay and my stupid and gay serial killers and cannibals are so mmmmmm sweetie pies in looovvvveee!!! Entirely sfw and doesn't contain commonly triggering topics, but it is messy and all over the place, no thought is baked more than half way.

Ticci Toby X Eyeless Jack Time!!

An idea I had for Toby and Jack to get together was Toby and Jack being friends for a long time and Toby being completely romantically inexperienced and terrified of rejection and cannot read what's somebody liking him as a friend versus romantic where Jack just thinks Toby knows how Jack feels and doesn't feel the same way (idiots who can't communicate due to being socially inept). At some point Toby cracks a "Forever alone nobody loves me" joke and Jack is just genuinely confused like "What?? I've been in love with you for like a year though, I thought you knew that?" and Toby is like half trying to explain it was a joke and half trying to clarify that Jack just confessed to loving him and anyway they're idiots <3

Jack is like ... a fucking tall guy, terrifyingly tall. But that means he gets BIG CLOTHES, and Toby steals them. All the time. Jackets, shirts, underwear, socks, pants, it's comfy and he feels safe and like Jack's hugging him when he's not around and it's baggy and lose on Toby and super cozy. Jack only gets his clothes back when Toby wants them to smell like Jack again.

Jack shows love with acts of service mostly, and will literally do everything for Toby from make food (Toby does not let him, DO NOT let Jack near a toaster and then walk away, lest the house catch on fire and he blame the "way the kettle boiled" for it), to literally sitting beside the tub and bathing Toby, to stitching his wounds (with intense annoyance at the fact Toby should be careful), to cleaning his room, just ANYTHING. Toby says the word and Jack gets it DONE.

Toby shows love with physical affection and words of affirmation. Toby's a pretty brutally honest guy in the vast majority of situations, and this extends to the way he talks to Jack. Jack cannot get Toby to shut up about how much he loves Jack (not that Jack ever has wanted him to, or would want him to), and Toby will often find Jack and beg for attention when he's busy (deliberately when Jack is busy) to tell him that he's the most important person in Toby's life.

When Toby learned that Jack liked being touched (not even in a sexual way, just as a romantic affection thing!) he was over the moon. Jack isn't very inclined to initiate physical touch, because he much prefers it when Toby just does... affectionate Toby things? Toby will burrow into Jack's hoodie while Jack's wearing it and claim it's for warmth reasons to which Jack replies "You can't feel temperature" and Toby says "Can't feel I can see just fine and I can tell you're pretty hot". Jack especially likes it when toby decides that the only acceptable way to get around is by making Jack give him a piggyback ride, or the only acceptable chair is Jack's lap.

Toby is obsessed with finding new random excuses to initiate any physical touch with Jack. Like "Hey is my skin warm or cold I can't tell if my body needs a blanket" and then just shove his face into Jack's neck and nuzzle him, when they both know that Toby's temperature is far from concerning in any way and that Toby just wants a big hug. Which Jack obviously provides.

For like the first month of their relationship Toby referred to Jack as a full title in EVERY POSSIBLE CIRCUMSTANCE. "Jack, who is my perfect boyfriend" was inserted anywhere in any conversation because Toby was so excited and happy. Jack thought it was fucking adorable. Toby eventually asked Jack why he didn't talk about how excited he was that they were together, and Jack's reponse was "Why spend time talking about how much I love you to people who won't understand just how much I mean it anyway, when I can spend that same time showing you, the person who matters most."

Toby's assigned side of the bed is whichever side Jack is already on. Toby lays on top of Jack, and Jack acts very annoyed at this but Toby knows Jack can't sleep without the equivalent of a weighted blanket on him. Toby once slept on his own side of the bed only to be woken up an hour later by Jack telling Toby he couldn't sleep, and that their usual sleeping accomidations were a necessity for his physical wellbeing as sleep is an incredibly important routine to maintain, and the weight Toby provides is a physical importance to this due to the relaxing effect Toby has on his emotional state and the anti-anxiety properties of sleeping with a weighted object or entity. But because Toby was half asleep he was just like "So you wanna cuddle because it gives you good dreams?" and Jack's like "... yes."

Jack knows Toby likes to collect rocks, so he carves hearts into cool rocks he finds on his own and leaves them on Toby's desk to find.

[dinodaweeb]

5 Times Your Werewolf Boyfriend Almost Exposed Himself

Gn!Reader x M!Oc!Werewolf

1.Dumplings that gave you food poisoning. Living with Juan Carlos was a learning experience. For both of you.

At first, you thought he’d adjust pretty easily. He was already technically human most of the time, and sure, the whole werewolf thing came with quirks, but how bad could it be?

Very.

The first major incident happened when you ordered takeout. Simple, right? You didn’t feel like cooking, and Juan Carlos—still getting used to non-raw food—was on board with trying something new.

What you didn’t expect was his reaction to the delivery guy.

The poor dude had barely knocked when Juan Carlos lunged for the door, sniffing aggressively, hazel eyes narrowing like you’d just let a serial killer onto the premises.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, trying to shove him away.

“This is our home.” His voice was stern. You rolled your eyes.

“It’s my apartment, and that’s just some kid bringing me dumplings.”

Juan Carlos didn’t budge. If anything, he leaned in closer, chest puffing up, radiating pure animalistic intimidation.

You cringed.

The second you cracked the door open, he semi transformed showing off his fangs. Seriously, he acts like a baby most of time but puts on the whole cliche “alpha werwolf” act like some edgy seventeen year old boy.

The poor delivery guy went pale.

“N-Never mind, it’s on the house!” The bag hit the ground. Footsteps pounded down the hall as the guy bolted.

You turned to Juan Carlos, dumbfounded. “Did you just—”

“He smelled shady,” Juan Carlos grumbled, arms crossed.

You stared at him. Stared at the abandoned food. Stared at the retreating figure of a teenager who was probably quitting his job as you spoke.

“You are never answering the door again.”

(The indeed turned out to be shady, so you let it slide.”

2. The Time He Forgot Clothes Were Mandatory

You came home one evening, tired, sweaty, and done with the day. You just wanted to shower, eat something, and—

“Why are you naked?”

Juan Carlos blinked up at you from the couch, legs spread comfortably, remote in hand. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because—” You gestured wildly. “Because clothes?!”

He tilted his head. “They’re itchy.”

“That’s a you problem. We have neighbors—”

“The old lady across the way keeps looking in here anyway.”

“That’s because she probably thinks she’s hallucinating a Greek statue come to life!” You grabbed the nearest blanket, tossing it at him. “Cover up!”

He caught it but made no move to actually use it. “I don’t get it. I don’t wear clothes in my other forms.”

“You also don’t have—” You clamped your mouth shut before you could acknowledge anything about Juan Carlos’s current state. “Just… get dressed before I lose my mind.”

He smirked but finally—finally—wrapped the blanket around his waist. “You like looking, don’t you?”

You left the room before you could commit a crime.

3. The Time He Marked His ‘Territory’ (Figuratively, Thank God)

At first, you didn’t notice anything strange.

Sure, Juan Carlos was clingy. You’d expected that. Werewolves were affectionate, territorial, all that weird instinct stuff.

Honestly, he was usually nothing like this. But his job left him hyperactive and stressed.

But then you started noticing little things.

Your shirts? Smelled way too much like him, even ones you hadn’t worn recently. Your blankets? Always a little ruffled, like he’d been rolling in them. And worst of all?

Your pillow smelled distinctly of wolf.

It was gross.

One night, you caught him burying his face into it, inhaling deeply like some freak scenting a mate.

“What the hell are you doing?” you demanded.

Juan Carlos looked up, completely unapologetic. “Making sure no one else tries to claim you.”

You stared. “Who, exactly, would be ‘claiming’ me in my own apartment?”

“You never know.”

“Juan Carlos.”

He shrugged, flopping back onto your bed like he lived there. “Instinct.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You love me.”

You threw a pillow at his smug face.

4. The Time He Took ‘Pack Bonding’ Too Far

You were sick. Just a cold, nothing dramatic. But Juan Carlos?

You’d think you were on your deathbed.

The moment you so much as sniffled, he went into full wolf mode. You woke up to find him curled around you, his entire body wrapped around yours like a sentient weighted blanket.

“Too hot,” you mumbled, trying to shove him off.

“You need warmth. Helps healing.”

“You’re a furnace.”

“Exactly.”

That wasn’t even the worst part.

He groomed you.

Not, like, licking (thank God), but his hands were constantly in your hair, untangling knots, rubbing circles into your scalp. When you finally got up to brush your teeth, he followed you—leaning over your shoulder, making sure you didn’t keel over.

“You don’t have to guard me.”

“I do.”

“No, you really don’t.”

“You’re pack.”

You sighed, pressing your forehead to the sink. There was no arguing with him when he got like this.

At least the head rubs were nice.

5. The Time He Couldn’t Handle Small Talk

Juan Carlos was bad at human conversation. Not because he was shy—God no—but because he was too honest.

You took him to a casual get-together with your coworkers once. Just drinks. Just socializing. Big mistake.

Someone made small talk, asking him where he was from.

His response? “Born in the woods. Raised by wolves. Killed my first deer at seven.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

You nearly spat out your drink.

He was completely unbothered, sipping his beer like he hadn’t just admitted to being a feral child.

“…Man, you’re hilarious,” your coworker finally said with a nervous laugh.

Juan Carlos just blinked. “I wasn’t joking.”

You had to drag him away before he could elaborate on the specifics of his first kill.

+1 The Time He Almost Got It Right

It was a normal night. Just the two of you, curled up on the couch, watching some terrible movie neither of you were really paying attention to.

Juan Carlos wasn’t being weird for once. He wasn’t marking his territory, or threatening the neighbors, or traumatizing the local delivery guys.

He was just there, pressed against your side, warm and solid.

It was… nice.

“See?” you murmured, nudging him playfully. “You can be normal.”

Juan Carlos let out a soft, content hum. “I guess. But normal’s boring.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. He had a point.

Besides, you wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Not even for a normal life.

a/n: erm I’m writing again or something

[semiweirdshipper]

Hello! 💖

For the Wesker ask, how do you think he would reaction to a situation similar to 'When a Survivor Bullies'? Perhaps at first he sees little things happening during trials or simply overhears survivors talking about said things, and then he sees them happen firsthand during a trial with Reader.

This was a beautiful ask, my lovely @jossambird. Thank you ❤️

I've actually daydreamed about this scenario, Wesker meeting 'When a Survivor Bullies' reader.

Alright. *Politely asks Herman to step aside. Grabs Albert by the face* Let's go, prince blondy, you're up.

Warnings: Blood and Violence.

...

Wesker hasn't been in the Entity's realm very long, but that doesn't stop him from picking up on things. There are other killers here as well, though he has no interest in contact with them. Friendship wasn't his style, and he didn't care for sensitive relationships. However, he does pick up on recurring conversations the other killers have- something about a new survivor facing traumatic bullying during trials.

At first, Wesker had no interest in the matter. Yeah, he was curious about why and how you were being bullied, but it really wasn't his business. Besides, the killer leaders already seemed to be wrecking their brains with ideas to try and help you. There was nothing Wesker needed to do.

Around a week passed.

During a trial, Wesker finally got to witness the horrific display of the other survivors grotesque behavior towards you.

He had been patrolling the area, wondering where all the survivors were when he heard a scream from the other side of the realm. Instantly, he had a sinking feeling in his gut. His mind sprang with guesses and theories about what could be happening, and he followed the sounds of wails, whimpers and screams.

Wesker soon came across a scene that had his mind turning to overdrive.

You were impaled by shrapnel that penetrated in through your back and out of your lower stomach. Stuck laying against a metal junk pile, you struggle to breathe and keep conscious. Blood oozed from your sealed wound, covering your entire front side.

You could barely look at him, your arms attempting pathetically to push you off the shrapnel, but you were stuck. You couldn't breathe very well, much less talk or whimper. The pain was indescribable. You were scared and hurt and you didn't know what to do. The killer was here now.

So, this is what the survivors did to you during trials? Why? What did they have against you? Why purposely lose manpower and increase the chances of dying during a trial? Why go through such great lengths to hurt you? You were practically brand new. You needed education, not... This.

Wesker never stopped walking towards you during his mental analysis, his glowing eyes hidden by his sunglasses. You were wearing a scarf around your neck, the bottom of your face covered in old, deep scars. He wondered what your story was. As he took out his knife, he began to speed up his pace.

Abnormal wounds don't heal during trials. Even if he managed to pull you off the shrapnel, it wouldn't do you any good- only cause more pain and a slow death. He might as well have mercy for both your sakes.

Coming to a stop in front of you, Wesker kneeled down, peering into your squinted eyes.

You winced, your mouth uttering a weak whine before resuming it's awful struggle for air. You were shaking slightly, blood dripping down your chin as you clutched the shrapnel bulging through your stomach. When you saw his knife, you squinted your eyes all the way shut, bowed your head and looked away.

Your reaction was all the information Wesker needed to make a decision.

Grabbing you, Wesker quickly shoved his knife into a spot in your body that would kill you immediately. He wasn't that cruel. He wouldn't make you suffer. You went limp in his arms, your breathing stopped and your limbs still. He stepped away from you, his knife covered in your blood as he stared at you for a minute.

He had a lot of work to do this trial.

The decision Wesker made was to find a way to stop the bullying once and for all. One, it wasn't necessary for trials and caused an imbalance of power. Two, it was unnecessary in general; typical human cruelty. And everyone wonders why he wants to save the world... And three, he was getting tired of seeing the other killers struggle with getting your attention. Honestly, did he have to do everything around here?

After obtaining information from the others, Wesker did not hesitate to make his way to the survivor camp grounds. There, he located each of your primary bullies and used uroboros to threaten each one of them. If they didn't stop bullying you, then there would be extreme consequences, and he would never cease to make them suffer endless torture. He would not have any of their bullshit. He was done.

If they touched you again, they were all dead.

Some odd amount of days passed. It seemed like the bullying had stopped if the ever relaxed Evan and Herman wasn't enough to go by. Everyone seemed relatively calmer and the stories about your bullying had eventually stopped being discussed. Everything was fine.

While he was isolated within his own realm, a series of gentle knocks on the gate lured him away from the library.

Wesker walked to the gate, ready to threaten whoever dared bother him until he saw your frightened, timid figure standing there. Oh. "Miss (y/n)," He stated, baring his teeth in a display of impatience.

You stood your ground though, your body trembling lightly. "I... I saw- I mean, I-I came here because I saw what you- what you did for me, and," You struggled to find proper words, "And I wanted to thank you."

"It was a mere convenience that someone intervene," Wesker explained, brushing it off, "I was simply doing what would benefit us both. That is all."

You were silent for a moment. Wesker almost thought about closing the gate until he saw you lower down onto your knees. Tears visibly glistened against your pale cheeks. You were shaking, your voice a grateful murmur.

"Still... Thank you. Thank you so much. You-huh... You don't know how much you helped me, I... I don't know how I-just... You saved my life. Thank you."

Wesker isn't used to human gratitude. In fact, he hadn't been expecting to hear from you at all, but it was kind of nice to see that you were capable of showing gratitude and appreciation. He really should just leave it at that, part ways with you and never speak to you again, but for some reason he found himself hesitating.

In the Entity's realm, Wesker had no way to fulfill his goals. He was constantly stuck in his own realm, alone and isolated, no one to talk to. Every day was the same story. Was it really so bad to desire some form of communication every once and a while?

Wesker was also ignoring the fact that he only felt this way towards you. Anyone else here could burn for all he cared, but you were different. He didn't want to use logic to try and explain himself right now. He just wanted to let his mouth do it's own thing, ask it's own questions.

"Are they treating you well?" He asked.

On the ground, you hesitated, one hand wiping at your messy face, "Better now, yes. Thank you."

Wesker had a hunch that you were lying, but he decided it was best not to probe too fast right now. "Do I stand correct when I say that you won't miss them if I were to invite you in for a while?" He asked, gesturing to the innards of the police station.

Gasping a bit, you looked up at him, your eyes wide with surprise and disbelief. Timid, uncertain and scared, you slowly shake your head, "Yes."

"Good," Wesker said, "Come inside."

And that is how the relationship started.

...

Of course there's so much more plot I could write, but this is the general gist. I think using the Bully reader was a great idea. I might make a part two where he gives the reader more in depth emotional support, and broaden their relationship. All in all, it was pretty enjoyable!

Thank you so much for the ask!

[moongreenlight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley who despite his better judgement lets Soap talk him into picking up a girl for the night.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Apparently Soap knows a guy who knows a guy in the area they’re deployed. They’d been staying at some shithole inn in France for weeks. Driving into the city to stake out some mark day in and day out. Tedious, mind-numbing work. Sitting at cafes and on patios at pubs people watching. Looking for anyone that may or may not match the vague description that had been provided by some mole on the other side.

Simon could sit still and shut up. Johnny was a separate issue. He could dial in for a few hours at a time, but then he’d start to slip. Bored and antsy, he’d try and strike up conversation. Inevitably returning to what must have been his favorite topic, or the one thing plaguing his mind the most. He’s horny. Fucking hell, is he horny.

Bitching and whining about not being able to get any play here because he doesn’t speak a lick of French and even when he tries it comes out so muddied that nobody takes him seriously. And that the inn they’re set up at is years away from town. Paints him out to be a serial killer.

Simon would grind his teeth and endure yet another one-sided talk about how bored Johnny had been getting of his hand. Even the left one wasn’t doing the trick anymore. He’d resorted to calling in some favors he was apparently owed to get the help of some girls in his evenings off.

“Jesus. Lookit the legs on her.”

Johnny had almost fallen out of his chair swiveling his entire body to watch some girl in a short skirt and a long trench coat stride past their spot outside of a cafe.

“Mhm.”

Simon was in a better spot to watch her pass. Eyeing her frame from over the rim of his steaming mug of tea. Fucking dreadful day. Drizzling rain. Bordering on sleet because of how miserable the weather was. Cloudy with a breeze that felt bitterly cold even through his coat. Shit tea, too. He couldn’t help but allow his mind to wander.

Not like they’d made any progress. Not like they could make any progress being staked out on a side street with no traffic whatsoever. The girl had been the only person other than their server that they’d seen come by in the last half hour. And sure, she had good legs. Better than their server’s at least. Some cranky older woman who’d ignored his attempts to order in French and looked mugged off that she had to deal with them at all, especially sat outside in this weather.

“Hell’s bells. Almost forgot you had a brain in there somewhere.”

Johnny, of course, couldn’t resist making a dig.

“Don’t get carried away.”

Simon grunted.

“Naw. C’mon, L.T. You like girls? They’ve got girls.”

Should have predicted that he was going to run wild with this.

“M’warnin’ you.”

“Loads of girls. Fuckin’ customizable. Send you a preference sheet and everything. Real professional operation.”

Johnny snickered into his paper coffee cup. Given to him along with a nasty look when he’d fidgeted with the ceramic mug he’d first had a bit too much and sent it smashing into the pavement.

Simon wasn’t one to be jerked around cock-first like Johnny, but Jesus. He was wearing thin. Maybe the isolation was getting to him. Maybe a seed had been planted somewhere deep in his mind from Johnny’s moaning. Not to mention, it was impossible to get it up watching French cable porn on a twin bed. He was backed-up and pissed off with the work. And with no end in sight, it could push a man to do strange things.

He shifted his hips forward in his seat, taking a long drink of his tea as he scanned the empty street for the umteenth time.

“Haven’t used up all your favors?”

You would have thought he’d just backhanded Johnny the way his eyes bugged out of his head.

“Gie’s a break.”

“Jus’ a question.”

Simon shrugged, sighing like he was already regretting asking. He was.

“Don’t work me up over nothin’, L.T.”

Johnny grinned, waggling his brows and leaning his forearms onto the table. Now completely distracted from the task at hand.

“Johnny.”

“Sure I could work somethin’ out. Only ‘cause I’m feelin’ generous. Ken yer a’right owing me a favor?”

Simon snorted.

“Sure I can manage.”

Johnny’s eyes were glinting something awful. More lively than he’d been in days. Practically laying over the table and kicking his feet. Thrilled to finally have the means to something Simon wanted.

“We’ll see about that’.”

Conversation moved on. Dragged back to the mission with instruction to change location. They spent a full ten hours out in the rain and the cold and the grey for absolutely no payout. Again. Still at square goddamn one. It was arguably worse than combat. Least on a real mission he’d get some release.

Johnny had stepped away in the early evening to make a call. Just before they were tapped out by Price and Gaz. Likely cashing in his favors owed, because he came back with a smug smile and two pints. Saying something about how Simon needed to quit taking himself so seriously. All work and no play or some stupid shit to that tune. Made a comment in passing on their drive back to the inn about how he should get his quarters decent by nine.

Honestly, Simon wasn’t expecting much. It was a bit of a ridiculous concept to him to begin with. He’d regretted saying anything straight after the words had left his mouth. He wasn’t sure he’d even be able to entertain some two-bit whore, even if she just served to curb his boredom. He never sought out things like this. Never felt the need. He wasn’t like Johnny or Gaz where he had to sneak off during missions for a wank or a quick fuck when time allowed. Not like Price where he’d seek a willing nurse or secretary to grope or bend over his desk on a day off. Sure, he’d take the opportunity if it arose, but he was always more focused on the job while he was at work rather than chasing his next high.

And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken anyone home. Fucked into his hand as much was necessary to keep everything operational. Knew when it was time when he started lashing out on a hairpin trigger. Got lazy on missions. Lost one too many sparring matches during training because he couldn’t focus.

So when nine came and went, he just found himself agitated that he’d requested the woman at the front desk change the sheets on his bed again so late. Ducking out to the balcony for a cigarette when she came in and slipping her a few euros on her way out despite the way her lip curled distastefully. Fucking frogs.

He was sat on the armchair in the corner of his room. Halfway paying attention to whatever channel was on the TV across from him and nursing a tumbler of shit whiskey he’d picked up from the shops their first night in. Swapped his mission clothes for a black tee shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. Tugging his balaclava over his face out of pure habit. Strictly instructed not to wear it out for the sake of keeping a low profile. Though he wasn’t sure how much good that did. He stood out from the crowd with his scars and crooked nose and tattoos without the covering. Whatever. Wardrobe wasn’t his job for a reason he supposed.

The sharp knock on his door grated heavily on his last nerve. Eliciting a low growl, but no movement to answer. It was half ten at this point. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Probably just another group of teenagers lost on their way to a friend’s room.

Another knock, and this time it didn’t stop. A muffled giggle through the door.

“Jesus Christ.”

He grumbled, shoving up and striding over to the door. Jerking the door open and using his hulking frame to cover the small opening he allowed.

Johnny’s fist nearly collided with Simon’s jaw. Distracted by the two girls stood behind him in the hall, giggling at him and batting their lashes. He was grinning like a goddamned devil. Chest puffed-out, shoulders rolled back. Entirely too comfortable.

Simon cocked a brow, giving the group a scornful once-over.

“Aye, L.T.! I come bearing gifts.”

Simon’s brow shot up further, eyes flicking from his friend to each of the girls behind him. Johnny immediately caught on to his confusion and barked a laugh, slinging his arm around the shoulder of the girl on the left. She sunk comfortably into position, leaning into him and giggling like it had been rehearsed.

She was pretty. Both of the girls were. The one tucked under Johnny’s arm had long auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders. Bright green eyes. Great smile. Perfectly groomed. Both of them covered conservatively by long coats to protect from the rain that had gradually started to come down harder and colder through the day. Hard to tell they were hooking by looking at them.

They seemed more familiar with Johnny than what Simon could assume was normal. It made his stomach turn if he thought too much into it, so he didn’t. Instead he side stepped, allowing the second girl barely enough room to slip through the door, and jerked his head for her to move.

“S’pose I know better than to expect a thank you.”

Johnny grinned, entirely unbothered by Simon’s glare that was boring through his skull. Arm already wandering down the auburn haired girl’s back at an alarming speed.

“Not as dim as you look, Sargent.”

Simon sighed, snapping the door shut.

“You’re late.”

He said flatly before he’d even finished locking the door. Turning to face the girl who’d already made herself comfortable on the edge of his bed. Leaned back on her hands, flashing him a dazzling smile.

“Throwing off your schedule, am I?”

You said, voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm. This made Simon recoil slightly. He’d been expecting some trashy, mildly-disgusting woman to come stumbling through the door when Johnny had mentioned he was cashing in favors. Not you. Not by a long shot. You looked, for lack of a better word, spoiled. Expensive. Perfectly styled, glossy hair. A tasteful amount of makeup. Not so much that it marred your features, but enough to make you nearly unapproachably attractive. And relatively covered-up. Expensive looking fur-trimmed coat falling just above your ankle.

Noticeable lack of a French accent. And you weren’t cowering in his presence, which suggested that you’d dealt with worse than him. A thought that sent something strange down his spine. Jealousy maybe? Anger? Sympathy? He wasn’t in the mood to dig further into that.

He crossed the room, lowering himself back into the armchair he’d been stationed in before his night was interrupted.

“You’re an hour and a half late.”

His tone was clipped. His eyes cold and hard. Fixed directly on you in an almost invasive kind of eye-contact. He jerked up his balaclava to his nose to take a deep drink from his glass. Studying you from over the rim. Killing the contents and setting it back on the side table with a soft thud.

You pursed your lips for a fraction of a second, standing from the corner of the bed and pacing across the small room to stand in front of him. Threatening to encroach on his personal space. Smiling tightly in a way that seemed to come with a practiced nonchalance. That same feeling settled in the center of his stomach.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I got caught up.”

Your soft, sweet tone did nothing to tame his irritation.

“They couldn’t even send a professional?”

He shot back tersely, folding his arms over his chest. You cocked your head slightly to the side. A fraction of genuine humor peeking through your smile.

“Plenty professional.”

You shrugged, letting the comment roll off of you. Water off a duck’s back. It irritated Simon to no end and he couldn’t pinpoint why. Trying to settle his mind by watching the way your perfectly manicured fingers began to work on slowly undoing the buttons of your coat with careful attention.

He snorted, tugging his balaclava back down over his jaw.

“That your thing, then?”

You gestured to his face covering. Shrugging off your coat to reveal a fucking scrap of a dress. Much more in-line with what he’d imagined a hooker to wear. A tiny, black, strapless thing that hugged your curves like it had been sewn directly onto you. Black lace garter pulled high on your thigh. Knee-height black boots that must have made you four inches taller than you were.

He cocked a brow, tapping a finger on the arm of his chair.

“Somethin’ like that.”

You cracked a true smile at that. Folding your coat neatly in your arms before setting it on the beat-up dresser to his right. Returning attentively to your spot in front of him.

He stiffened. Already perfect posture becoming rigid to the point of snapping. Keeping his hands firmly planted on either arm of the chair. Narrowing his eyes as he looked over your face in much closer detail.

“It’s late.”

Was all he managed. Voice rough as ever.

“And?”

You tilted your head like a confused dog.

“And you were an hour and a half late. It’s late.”

He shot back dryly. Nails digging into the chair.

“Let me make it up to you.“

You sank to your knees just between his legs surprisingly gracefully given how tight your dress was. Falling delicately onto the disgusting carpet. Faded and torn and fraying. Scratching at your bare knees. Didn’t even pull a face. Conditioned to understand that this was normal. Trained to grin and bear it. Another stone added to the weight anchoring him to his seat.

It was horribly cliche. Such a painfully tacky line, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth; so he shifted his hips forward and allowed your slender fingers to dance up his thighs and dip under the waistband of his sweatpants. Aided you in tugging them down to his ankles. Grit his teeth together when you began palming him through his underwear. Trying not to catch your eyes that were fixed up on him. Trying to push the nagging voice in the back of his mind away. Reminding him of just how dirty this was. Made him feel fucking pathetic. Calling in the aid of a hooker like he couldn’t bed a girl himself.

And the worst part. The part that brought up the most self-loathing; was how fucking fast the blood was racing to his cock under your touch. How much he truly enjoyed seeing you knelt down and blinking up at him with a look that could have been confused for adoration. Maybe you were a professional.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose when you finally sprung his aching cock free from his boxers. Forcing his head back to avoid your gaze. Pressing it hard against the wall to the point of giving himself a headache. Scarring the soft wood of the chair’s arms with his nails when you licked a hot stripe from his base to the tip.

All of his guilt and knotted up emotions seemed to dissolve themselves at least partially when you wrapped your lips around him. He’d almost forgotten just how warm a mouth was. Infinitely better than his hand. Jesus, was it.

He kept his hands to himself. Not needing to guide you like he had so many others. Tried to let himself relax under the feeling of your hand gripping his base and your mouth working his tip. And he nearly did get swept away when you removed your hand and tried to force his stiff cock to the back of your throat. Allowing you to work at choking and gagging around him for longer than was probably polite. But again, he just found himself irritated. Edging himself out of pure goddamn accident because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force himself from his mind.

He couldn’t understand why you were such a sticking point to him. He’d had one night stands before. Hell, that’s all he’d had. Never cared much about the quality or condition or history of the girls he slept with. Maybe he had a savior complex he was too stubborn to admit to. Maybe his mind had been so warped and addled over the years that he formed some kind of baseless connection with you for God knew what reason. He just couldn’t fucking stop thinking about you.

He would have liked to. Would have liked to screw his eyes shut and focus on how good you felt wrapped around him. Mouth hot and wet. Wanted to focus on the ecstasy of your throat struggling to fit him. Listen to your soft, choked whines. Let himself pretend you were no different to the others he’d bedded before, but it was fruitless. He made a low sound, a growl that lodged itself somewhere in his chest, before taking your jaw in his hand and pulling you off of him. Cock still throbbing like it had its own heartbeat.

“You need to go.”

He made the mistake of glancing down. Saw the way your perfect makeup had begun smearing around your eyes and down your cheeks just barely. Big eyes rimmed with tears. Nose running, chin and lips glistening. Slick from your own spit. It nearly pushed him over the edge, but he knew inevitably he was prolonging his own torture.

“What?”

Your voice was hoarse because of how much strain your throat had been under. Softer than it had been. Less confident. You looked almost hurt. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand and sniffing softly. Jaw held fixed in his hand.

“You need to go.”

He repeated, firmer this time. Sucking his teeth. Trying to ignore the way your gentle panting cooled the shining trails of spit running down his shaft and sent a chill up his spine.

Your face twisted in confusion, mouth falling open. Leaning back on your haunches to look him over like he’d suddenly grown another head.

“Is it not good?”

He groaned softly, finally letting go of your head. Not realizing just how much effort it had taken for him to pull you off until he saw the small red marks decorating the delicate skin of your jaw.

“S’fine.”

“Fine?”

You looked properly offended. A little confused. Like this had never happened before- and it probably hadn’t. Of course he’d be the one to stain your perfect record. Of course he’d be the one to warp your pretty face like that. Drove him up the fucking wall.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Now he was backed-up, pissed off, and you wouldn’t leave as easily as he would’ve liked. If he was lucky, he’d still have half a hard-on by the time he got you out the door. Maybe coax out a less than satisfying orgasm that would at least put him to sleep.

“Gave myself lockjaw for fine?”

You spoke again, those same nimble fingers now gently massaging the hinge of your jaw. He tried to avoid looking at the way your dress bunched around your hips and revealed your panties. Black lace that matched the garter on your thigh.

“It’s late.”

He huffed a sigh. Leaning down to fumble in his sweatpants pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. Needing anything else to focus on. It brought him nearly nose to nose with you. Not realizing until he flicked his eyes up. And you didn’t recoil. Sat there half glaring at him, the tip of your nose almost brushing his through the balaclava. You were pretty even this close. Probably more so.

“You’ve said.”

You shot back cooly, brows knit together.

“Have I?”

He pulled back up, hooking his mask up over his nose once more and sticking the cigarette between his teeth.

“Few times.”

You looked wholly unamused. He flicked his lighter open. Lighting the tip and taking a deep drag.

“Meant it a few times.”

He shrugged, speaking through his exhale. Turning his chin up and away from you so the curling smoke didn’t wash over you.

You snorted, pushing up to your feet, putting your hands on your hips and giving him a once-over.

“You’re seriously asking me to leave?”

His teeth sunk into the butt of the cigarette just a fraction too hard. He felt the crunch of the filter bending under the force.

“S’not you, it’s me.”

He offered. A wisp of a dry smile tugging momentarily at the corner of his lips. This earned another smile from you. He caught it even through the way you chewed the inside of your cheek.

“You married?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. He almost choked on the cloud of smoke he’d been drawing in.

“No.”

His voice was harsh. Like a string pulled taught to the point of snapping.

“So what is it? You don’t like me?”

You shifted your weight a bit, but he could tell it wasn’t because you were uncomfortable. You still held yourself confidently. Shoulders rolled back, posture straight but not stiff.

“Bloody hell.”

He groaned, rubbing his brow.

“Is that it, then?”

You prodded further.

“No.”

You seemed thoroughly dissatisfied with his answers. But he didn’t know what else he could say. You seemed fine. Pretty girl. Got him closer to an orgasm than he’d come in weeks. He just couldn’t get over the fact that you were hired out to do this. Made him feel too dirty. That and he’d already looked too far into the situation. You seemed like you’d been doing this longer than anyone should have to. Strangely enough he felt some obligation to protect you. Wanted to pull you away from whatever situation that had pushed you to this.

“So what’s the hang up?”

You huffed a sigh.

“Don’t usually do this.”

He grunted out, resigning to the fact that he’d have to drink himself to sleep at this point. Leaning down to jerk his sweatpants back up his legs.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You snarked back. He snorted a humorless chuckle from around the cigarette.

“Nothin’ against you.”

“Yeah, alright.”

You shook your head, a small smile curving your mouth. A mix of confusion and amusement. Like you couldn’t believe that this was really happening.

“I’m not in the business of I.O.U’s.”

You said, looking over your shoulder while you walked over to grab your coat from the dresser.

“S’at so?”

He ashed his cigarette into his empty glass. Trying not to snort when you flashed him a sour look.

“You’re sure? I’m supposed to be here all night.”

You were already fastening the buttons on your coat. Glancing past him to the window on the back wall of the small room. The curtains were drawn, but through the backlight of the street lamps outside you could see rain streaking the glass.

“Mhm”

He hummed his answer. Silently grateful that you were finally moving toward leaving. Least he’d be able to get a few hours of shut eye before having to go back out tomorrow. Hopefully sleep off the guilt and the slightly sick feeling that’d settled itself over him.

You left a few minutes later. After making absolutely certain he was sure. Then it was ‘cheers’ and he was dead bolting the door. He got a fresh glass and downed the rest of the bottle of whiskey. Not enough to even get him tipsy, but enough to lull him into a dreamless sleep for the few hours he allowed himself.

He should have been expecting that Johnny would give him a fucking earful in the days following. You must’ve said something to the auburn haired girl and it got around. Wouldn’t shut up about it. Gave him shit like he was getting paid to do it. Couldn’t believe that he’d pass up an opportunity like that.

They got shipped back to base about a week later. Simon was thankful for the short break. Slowly working on forgetting the entire mission. The whole ordeal with you. Focused his efforts on training and filling out the endless towers of paperwork that’d gathered on the edge of his desk in his absence.

And then it was months later. And he’d made good progress on forgetting France. Mission was a bust. Wasted time and money and effort for no payout. Turns out their mark had been in Germany the entire time. Tipped off that they were on the lookout for him. Johnny slowly stopped his teasing. Only occasionally bringing it up when Simon dismissed the efforts of an overly eager private. Things went back to normal.

After getting intel on a new assignment, Price had urged the boys to get together at some pub by base for drinks on him. Chat about next steps and do some more of the team bonding he was so keen on. Simon grudgingly obliged. The bar was full of people seeing as it was a Friday, so he was content people-watching and grunting a few words when prompted. Decent way to kill a few hours.

He’d excused himself to go outside for a smoke, pushing through the crowd until he finally reached the side alley next to the pub. Taking a few long moments to work his way through a cigarette and let his head stop pounding from the noise of the inside. He wasn’t focused on anything in particular, at least not until he heard some shouting on the street.

He furrowed his brow slightly, pushing off the brick he’d been leaned against and sidling out to see what was going on. Not usually interested in the commotion, but moving out of some deep-rooted obligation to supervise a situation.

He saw a car with dark tinted windows rolling slowly down the road. The driver leaning half-out his window and shouting something over to a girl who was walking by herself down the sidewalk. Her back was to Simon, but he could tell by how stiff she was that this wasn’t a friendly exchange.

He groaned under his breath, taking a moment to debate on if he should get involved before flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. Starting down the street toward the girl.

It didn’t take him long to close the distance between them. The girl was walking slowly, he could see the way her head was on a swivel, searching for an escape. The driver of the car was shouting something crass at her and she was making a point of not engaging.

“Alright?”

He called out through the dim street, rolling his shoulders back and tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. Puffing out his chest slightly in case his sheer size alone wasn’t enough to impress.

The driver faltered slightly, the girl did not stop to look back.

“Yeah, mate. Cheers.”

The man called back, trying to sound casual. Simon grunted and nodded, staying as friendly as he could. Moving a little closer to the curb to shield the girl from view. Thankfully, this was all the interaction the driver seemed to need to get the hint. Pulling off without much more prompting.

The girl’s posture immediately relaxed. Shoulders dropped, slowing her gait to a stop.

“Thanks. I owe you-“

Her voice cut off like someone had pressed mute when she turned to face Simon. He was stunned. Fucking shocked to see your face. This had to be some cruel trick played on him by the universe.

You looked great. Better than you had in France- if that was even possible. Even with the way your face paled, he could tell. Your eyes were brighter. Shining at him like headlights. He would have been able to convince himself he was hallucinating if you hadn’t had that same look of recognition painted over your face.

“Thought you weren’t in the business of I.O.U’s.”

He broke the silence after a few long moments. Both of you stood rooted to the pavement mere yards apart. Your breathless laugh broke the tension like a stone dropped in the middle of a stilled lake.

“I wasn’t.”

He nodded sharply.

“And now?”

You smiled. Brighter than you had before.

“I could be persuaded.”

He scoffed.

“S’at so?”