#more like he tries to lure his targets to him

[the-californicationist]

They Help You Practice

Task Force 141 asks you to be the bait for a secret assignment. So, they make you audition for the role. You end up getting gangbanged by the whole team and loving it!

TW: gangbang, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, gay sex, degradation, explicitly consensual, spit? please check AO3 link at bottom for full tag list

You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate. 

“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”

You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded. 

Price continued,

“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into. 

“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”

A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,

“What kind of bait, sir?”

“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”

“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.

The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job. 

“Good. Let's brief the team.”

Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in. 

“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position. 

The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”

Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments. 

“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”

“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room. 

Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,

“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”

“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”

“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms. 

“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly. 

Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,

“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”

“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked. 

“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”

Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return. 

You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.

But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight. 

Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,

“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”

Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.

You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back. 

You smiled,

“Well, do I look the part?”

Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,

“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”

“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”

Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,

“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”

“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”

“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”

“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.

Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,

“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”

“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,

“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”

The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 

Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,

“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “or down?”

The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it. 

“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone. 

The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,

“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”

You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you. 

Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,

“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin. 

Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath. 

“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”

“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.  

He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts. 

Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache. 

Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,

“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”

You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,

“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”

You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew. 

“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,

“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”

You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon. 

He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths. 

“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone. 

The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe. 

“You alright, babes?” He laughed.

You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner. 

Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly. 

“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.

He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you. 

You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match. 

Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning. 

You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs. 

Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time. 

Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,

“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slut, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”

He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face, 

“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”

You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you. 

“He’s not allowed to come in you, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”

Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act. 

Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain. 

“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded. 

You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide. 

He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons, 

“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”

You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate. 

“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”

He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion. 

“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.

Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched. 

Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core. 

Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,

“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”

Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole. 

“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”

Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,

“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here, lass. Breathe with me, lass.”

He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done. 

It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in. 

Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.

You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own. 

He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,

“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”

“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.

Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,

“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”

He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony. 

As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”

“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.” 

Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out. 

Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,

“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”

He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again. 

“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price. 

“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”

“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been. 

Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant. 

They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,

“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”

“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.

“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”

“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”

“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you. 

He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again. 

You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,

“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”

Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation. 

“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”

“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”

“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added. 

Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange. 

Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.

“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval. 

“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”

The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise. 

Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,

“Missing your masked man already?”

You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,

“He’s a little…preoccupied.”

Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure. 

Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole. 

“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb. 

When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return. 

“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”

You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover. 

Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale. 

“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.

“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him. 

“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got  yourself a new permanent assignment.”

Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,

“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”

AO3 Link

[ccccatttta]

just started thinking about modern black brothers with a wider age gap, maybe ten years in between.

sirius being thrust with raising regulus, helping him with everything and trying to lure him away from their parents beliefs, doing his best to make him kind and good. but he, himself, doesn't know how to do that, he's still a child, but he tries and tries.

regulus seeing him more like a parent figure than anyone else. knowing that being under his mother's fist and father's indifference is regular, just like being with sirius is safe, and warm, and nice.

it's not always good, they are different in so many ways, and in making regulus like himself, sirius sees that he's putting a target on his little brother's back. he doesn't know how to fix it and it pains him, but he can't let his brother become like his parents. it's torture.

then sirius has to go away for college, and it's hell for both of them.

sirius misses so many birthdays and special occasions, and regulus is nothing but a kid still, so his parents can still get their claws on him. sirius has to watch how his little brother, that he has raised, is pitied against him, and in trying to search for comfort in that horrible house, is turning into what his parents want to.

and regulus is just doing what he can, every birthday wish goes to begging for sirius to come home and take him away, every punishment leaves him missing the warmth his big brother used to provide.

it's still not enough, regulus just searches and searches for the same sense of comfort in the dark walls of grimauld place, and finds a cheap copy of it when his mother praises him whenever he does anything she approves. it's not the same, but it's better than nothing so he keeps doing it and doing it until he loses everything his brother taught him, and therefore, loses himself.

and sirius has to watch it firsthand, how the little baby he used to feed, bath, teach and take to sleep, is no longer his.

so he runs away, because seeing it just hurts too much.

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 2

Masterpost

Danny spends the next few days exploring the town more, while he considers the implications of everything he’d learned  at the library. He’d taken notes, but they’re not exactly the best. Danny’s never been that good at taking notes, after all, but he has a pretty good memory, so the various key words and few quotes he’d scribbled down are plenty useful in reminding him of all the wild shit he’d read about.

There’d been a lot of history involved in the whole meta situation. It seems like these so-called meta humans, and various other races (species? Danny doesn’t know nearly enough about the cultural implications of that) have been around long enough to have had a significant impact on the world at large. And yet, at the same time, there really hadn’t been a lot of personal information on any of the heroes. Oh, there’d been plenty on some of the villains - and of course there’d still be villains here, he’s not lucky enough to escape that - but aside from various speculation about their romantic lives, and a few acknowledgements of family ties here and there, there’d been very few details about where most of them actually came from.

Superman, for example (he seemed to be this world’s go-to example of metas and superheroes), is listed as being an alien, who’s powers come from his biologies unique interaction with this planet’s atmosphere, although it doesn’t explain anything about what that means. Interestingly, there seems to be almost no speculation about Superman’s so-called secret identity. Only about half the listed heroes seem to have one according to the public, but Danny knows that song and dance too well to fall for it. Honestly, they’re even more likely to have a secret identity than Danny himself, seeing as Danny’s alter ego is literally dead. Not that ghosts seem to be much of a thing here.

He’d felt so silly looking up information about ghosts, right before leaving the library. Compared to the deep dive into recent history, googling “are ghosts real” must have looked insane if anybody could see it. The answer he’d returned had been not unlike the way things had been when he was ten or twelve. Before the portal, you’d see dumb ghost hunter shows where they never actually saw much of anything. Ghosts were, like, poltergeists that moved your furniture around and slammed the doors shut. The results here had been a little more interesting - clearly in a world where superheroes are a fact of life, fantastical stuff is a little more rational, and the speculation was clearly affected by that fact, but it still had been, seemingly, all speculation.

Of course, none of that really mattered when it came to Superman. Danny was at least ninety percent sure he wasn’t a ghost. And even if he somehow was, it didn’t change the fact that he either has a secret identity, or he basically never takes part in society. And if he doesn’t have a secret identity, then the question very much becomes why not. Because that means he either has no real reason to care about anyone here (which seems implausible), or he’s unable to spend that time in public. It’s that possibility that’s knocked out any chance of Danny approaching any of the heroes. Because there’s always the possibility that the endorsed heroes are being used to lure other metahumans in. And Danny doesn’t know nearly enough about this world to make any kind of judgment on what’s most likely here. After all, historically there’s plenty of examples of governments that  work with specific people among targeted groups, in order to more successfully take out the others. it tends not to end well for those people when it’s all over, but anyone who’s short-sighted or even just backed into a wall enough can fall for that.

Hell, the GIW had actually tried that line on Danny once or twice, not that he’d ever accepted. After all, they’d never realized that was actually sort of alive, so their pitches had always been... less than convincing. 

Danny blinks, reaching out to touch the brick wall in front of him. He hadn’t meant to come back here, but honestly at this point, he really shouldn’t be surprised. This random little alley on side street wouldn’t be interesting at all to anyone else. But if Danny stares long enough, he can almost see the green-tinged light of the portal that brought him here. Not that he’d ever seen the portal from this side. He hadn’t turned to look until after the light had faded. The idea of seeing his friends’ faces through the swirling green had been too much.

They had all known exactly what it meant when he came here. The difficulty of the journey was the point. Between the anti-ecto acts gaining not just mainstream awareness, but support, and the GIW gaining access to better funding and training, well, the second the GIW had started successfully ending ghosts, it seemed like all the denizens of the zone had collectively decided to stay the fuck home.

At first Danny had enjoyed it, had relaxed and been excited to finally be able to focus on just being a teen. But the GIW hadn’t calmed down, had just started going even more on the offensive, and the second he and Jazz had noticed agents showing up casually at their house, everyone had gone into full alert.

That’s how they found out that the next goal was to apparently take the fight to the zone itself.

The conclusion had been easy from that point. The portal needed to be destroyed, and fast. But with the ghost zone blocked off (and Danny’s death being the unknowing link that made the portal ever work in the first place), that would leave Danny as one of three remaining targets.

They’d all immediately agreed that Vlad could figure out his own solution. Dani- well, she had been traveling, but the second she turned up, the others had made plans to send her on her own one way portal trip too.

Of course, the likelihood that she’d end up here is probably minuscule. So he’s alone.

“Hey,” a stern voice cuts through Danny’s thoughts. He glances over to the person who’s standing at the door to a building. “There’s no loitering here.”

Right. It’s almost easy to forget, in the face of his life’s inescapable absurdity, that to everyone else in this town, he just seems like a possibly-homeless delinquent. Not that the delinquent part is unfamiliar.

“Sorry,” Danny mutters belatedly, realizing that the person is just waiting as he stares at them like a weirdo. He’s not very good with people anymore. Not that he was that good to begin with. Phantom had been a Ghostly Menace, constantly destroying the town with his fights, nobody had expected him to function as a person. Nobody had thought he was a person. But as Danny Fenton- well, he’d fallen short of just about every expectation set at Danny Fenton’s feet.

Distantly he wonders if his friends even bothered to disguise his disappearance. He’d always kind of wondered if his parents would ever notice if he and Jazz just- left. School definitely noticed, though most of the faculty would probably take it as completely expected. After all Danny Fenton was a terrible student, constantly skipping class and never doing his work, and even when he was in class he was usually halfway to falling asleep anyways. Lancer had certainly lectured him about his lack of discipline more than enough. So they might just come to the conclusion that he’d dropped out and run away.

He doesn’t know if he’d prefer that, honestly. The truth is messed up and complicated and frankly, unbelievable. But maybe if they knew the truth at least one person might feel a fraction of sympathy for all the bullshit that he’d been dealing with. Funny, Danny thinks, how coming here feels more like a death than when I actually died.

[gubsbuubs]

Trophy wife

Pt. 2 is out - It´s Mutual

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 4.5K

Warnings: Typical case descriptions, kissing and petting, enemies to lovers, a set up for a smut. Summary: When an unsub targets trophy wives, (Y/N) is asked to go undercover with her nemesis, Spencer Reid, posing as a couple to lure the killer. As they navigate a high-stakes operation, tensions escalate, blurring the lines between their professional and personal animosity.

Preview: "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “And I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

A/N: Hi everyone, this is my first-ever fanfiction. I initially wanted to write smut, but to add depth, I decided to craft this background story. English is not my first language. I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

“Are those poker chips?” Derek asked as the images from the most recent crime scene appeared on the screen behind Garcia.

"Bingo, my lucky charm! Those are poker chips, and you've hit the jackpot," Garcia continued. “This is the second woman to be found in a motel room stabbed and extremely beaten in the last two weeks.”

“The Vegas police have requested our help,” Hotch informed as he analyzed the pictures.

Ross quirked up his eyebrows as an amused smile played on his lips. "Well, either he really likes poker, or he's on a mission to prove that crime can be a high-stakes game…"

"Well, he's certainly raising the stakes in our investigation," I added, my remark eliciting another round of chuckles.

"Children, behave, please," JJ attempted to redirect the team's focus to the situation at hand.

As I scanned the pictures, my index finger reached above the image on the table. "The persistent appearance of poker chips as a signature strongly suggests a connection to the unsub’s personal experiences, perhaps indicating a deep involvement with poker, possibly even as a player. Maybe…”

“While symbolism is intriguing, we should prioritize empirical evidence. Jumping to conclusions based on perceived patterns might lead us astray." My brows furrowed in annoyance as I turned my head, hearing him cut off my train of thought. His tone carried a subtle bitterness, as if questioning the validity of my analysis.

And there he fucking was again, Dr. Spencer Reid, incessantly questioning my every move, as if my mere presence irked him to no end.

Our "relationship," if you could really call it that, was basically just a constant back-and-forth of arguing, interruptions, and tension you could practically cut with a knife. We tried to keep it professional for the team's sake, but it was obvious we weren't exactly best buds.

And what kept his skepticism going wasn't just about work competition; it was personal. He had this lingering grudge because I had stepped in after his buddy, Alex Blake, bailed on the BAU, leaving him behind.

To be honest, his animosity seemed mostly one-sided. At first, I admired Spencer's intellect and respected his dedication to the job. Plus, let's be real, I wasn't blind—I definitely noticed he was a good-looking guy. But his hostility kind of pushed me to throw up walls and respond with a guarded attitude. And then, well, naturally, I found some twisted enjoyment in getting under his skin and making him lose his cool.

"How can you have an IQ of 182 and yet be so clueless?" I scoffed, laughing. "Sure, you're intelligent, but common sense seems to elude you at times."

Reid stared for a moment, a mix of shock and rage flickering across his otherwise monotone, expressionless face. His eyes narrowed, and he responded curtly, "It's 187, and (Y/N), I would advise you to mind your manners when addressing me. My intelligence surpasses yours by far more than a number could explain." As he stood there, staring into my eyes, arms crossed by the presentation board, a surge of irritation pulsed through me. I was poised to respond, the words itching at the tip of my tongue, but before I could unleash them, Derek intervened. With a subtle shift in his posture, he leaned in towards the table, effectively redirecting our focus. A deliberate clearing of his throat signaled the shift in conversation. "The sheer brutality of these killings unmistakably points to an unsub fueled by intense rage. The way the victims were forcefully and repeatedly stabbed suggests a perpetrator with considerable physical strength and stamina.”

"The messy and disorganized scene adds another layer to the unsub's profile. Women just tend to be cleaner, so we are definitely dealing with a man,” JJ added.

“They are waiting for us, we can discuss the rest of the preliminary profile on the jet, wheels up in thirty,” Hotch said as he stood up, the team following right after.

--x--

As I focused on the files spread out in front of me, the sound of the door swinging open abruptly pulled my attention away. "We've got another body," Hotch announced, his voice cutting through the silence that lingered in the small meeting room lent to us by the Las Vegas police.

By now, we had successfully linked the unsub to the world of poker. Our victims, all married, had been last seen with their partners at casinos during poker nights, forming a clear pattern. Despite our breakthroughs, the mystery surrounding his identity and motive remained unsolved.

"Rebecca Miller, 29 years old, was last seen with her husband at Riverside Casino," Hotch added, his tone steady as he placed the picture of the victim on the board. "Witnesses report they were very affectionate. Her husband mentioned she went to get them drinks before she disappeared," he continued, his gaze scanning the room, inviting any additional insights or comments from the team.

"She definitely fits the victimology—young, beautiful, and married to an avid poker player," JJ remarked casually as she got up to take a closer look at the picture.

Rossi gazed into the distance, lost in thought. "They must be raking in serious cash playing poker. Why else would these stunners be tying the knot with someone clearly out of their league?" he mused aloud.

As I scanned the pictures of the victims, a realization began to form in my mind. Each photograph depicted a strikingly beautiful woman, always beside her husband, who often appeared much older or less attractive in comparison. "They're trophy wives," I exclaimed, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

I glanced to my left, where Reid stood, scoffing and shaking his head. "Trophy wives?" he immediately questioned, his focus remaining fixed on the board as he continued drawing lines for the geographical profile.

"Well, think about it," I elaborated, gesturing toward the pictures of the women. "These women, young and beautiful, carefully curated for a certain image, accompanying their husbands to the poker games, spending the entire night all over them. How had we not seen this glaring pattern before?"

"That's a rather simplistic and uninformed view, (Y/LN)," he countered. "These women had successful careers. Assuming they're merely trophy wives diminishes their individuality."

"Just because they have successful careers doesn't negate the potential of being used as accessories," I countered, locking eyes with Reid as he turned to face me. "It's not about undermining their achievements but acknowledging the potential for a specific dynamic in their relationships. We need to explore all possibilities, not just those that fit neatly into your rational worldview."

"Acknowledging possibilities is one thing, but chasing baseless theories is another," Reid retorted, his tone measured. "We can't afford to indulge in wild conjectures without solid evidence."

"Sometimes you're so buried in your 'facts' that you miss the human element of the cases," I remarked, chuckling dismissively as I shook my head to the side.

"It's called objectivity, (Y/LN)," he asserted, stepping closer until he stood before me, his hands slipping into his pockets in a gesture of dominance. "Something you might want to consider before letting personal biases cloud your judgment."

"I'm the one who lets personal biases cloud my judgment?!" I retorted, my voice rising as frustration bubbled up within me.

He remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"You've got to be kidding me," I continued, my tone escalating gradually. "You're the one who's been acting like a little bitch to me since I joined the team, so don't lecture me about taking things personally here."

Still, he said nothing, his hands now clenched into fists at his sides.

"You've had a problem with me from day one," I pressed on, "and it's about damn time you admit it instead of acting like such a child about it."

"This is about doing our job objectively," Reid retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "Your presence doesn't change the standards we uphold in the BAU, but clearly you don’t meet them."

"That's enough!" Hotch's voice boomed, commanding attention as he intervened. His gaze shifted from Reid to me, a subtle warning in his eyes. "I think we should explore that possibility," he acknowledged, nodding towards my earlier suggestion. "It seems reasonable. Apart from that, are there any more leads we need to consider?"

Spencer turned on his feet, his movements purposeful as he approached the board. "Actually, I've been working on the geographical profile," he began "And it seems that, looking at the last victim’s place of abduction, he is moving in a straight line." With a marker in hand, he started drawing on the board, "Look at this: the first victim was last seen at the Lotus Casino Central, the second victim at the Charlaton, and now Rebecca at the Riverside. It's a straight line, which means..."

"He's heading for the Bellagio next," JJ chimed in, seamlessly connecting the dots of Spencer's thoughts. Spencer nodded in confirmation, acknowledging her insight.

Rossi rose from his seat and joined Spencer by the board. "Now that we know where he's likely to strike next, perhaps we can set up an operation to catch him; he’s been striking on poker nights."

Hotch leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered the strategy. After a moment of contemplation, he straightened up and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the team. "Yes, an undercover op might be our next chance." His gaze fell on me, lingering for a moment as he addressed me directly. "Y/n," he began,"You have experience as an undercover agent, and you actually resemble the victims," he observed, "Would you mind going in?" The room fell silent as the weight of the proposition settled among us.

"Yeah… sure," I responded quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Derek immediately sensed my apprehension and offered reassurance with a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "You're not going in alone. It has to be a couple, so you'll have someone to have your back."

"Can you come with me?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

"Actually," Hotch interrupted, straightening in his chair, "I want Reid to go with you." My head fell into my hands as I sighed, dreading the complications that might arise. The weight of Hotch's decision settled heavily on my shoulders, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the thought of partnering with Reid for this undercover operation.

"Sir, with due respect," Spencer began, but Hotch raised his hand to stop him from continuing.

"(Y/N) needs a poker player husband; you’re the only one who could actually pass as an avid poker player," Hotch explained simply, as if it were that straightforward. "I trust you can both behave professionally and put your differences aside?" His tone sounded more like an order than a question.

"Let's get to work then," Rossi said, his tone decisive, as I let my head rest on the table. It dawned on me that this was the only option to ever catch this guy.

--x--

JJ pulled out all the strings, ensuring we had everything necessary to play our roles seamlessly. With meticulous attention to detail, she provided a stunning black dress that hugged my curves perfectly, matching pumps that elongated my legs, and exquisite jewelry that added a touch of elegance to the ensemble. Among the glittering gems, she placed an engagement ring and wedding band, enhancing the authenticity of our charade.

As I admired my reflection in the mirror, a wave of mixed emotions washed over me. The thought of spending the upcoming night with Spencer made my heart race, a strange feeling stirring within me.

My mind constantly drifted towards the way we were supposed to behave, thoughts swirling with anticipation. I imagined his touch, knowing that as a couple, he would have to be close, his hands possibly lingering on my body. How would it feel? Would I be able to maintain eye contact as he stared me down during our conversations?

I sighed heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Despite this being an undercover mission, it felt strangely intimate, as if I was gearing up for a date with him. The prospect of going out and spending time with Spencer was something I'd never experienced before, and it left me feeling nervous, even though I couldn't quite admit it to myself.

Maybe if things hadn't unfolded as they did, Spencer and I could've found common ground. Perhaps we could've forged a genuine connection, evolving into friends, or even something more meaningful. But fate had a different plan for us.

From the moment we crossed paths, our destinies seemed entwined in conflict rather than harmony, and I remember the day I met him all too well. We had just finished the tour, and Derek was now showing me to my desk.The ding of the elevator caught my attention, and there he stood. I've heard of Dr. Reid, everyone talked about him – his genius IQ of 187, his remarkable accomplishments at such a young age. But amidst all the praise for his intellect, no one ever mentioned how good-looking he actually was.

"Pretty boy," Derek exclaimed with a grin as he welcomed him. I couldn't help but agree silently. It was indeed a fitting nickname, Spencer was undeniably attractive. "Come meet our new member, Y/n Y/Ln."

With a smile I reached out my hand instinctively, ready to greet him, but to my surprise, he took a light step back. "Sorry, I don't shake hands," he said dismissively, his tone somewhat curt. "Did you know that the average person carries about 4,000 bacteria on their hands? It's a breeding ground for germs. It's actually safer to touch a toilet seat."

I stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Did he genuinely suggest that touching a toilet seat is cleaner than shaking my hand? "You really know how to make a girl feel special, Agent Reid," I retorted, rolling my eyes as Derek chuckled at the situation.

"It's Doctor, not Agent," he corrected, his tone matter-of-fact as he swiftly made his way to his desk. My mind raced, attempting to conjure a response, but he had already moved on, leaving me standing there, still processing what had just happend.

"Are you ready, or should I tell the unsub to wait because you need to keep fixing your lipstick?" a voice spoke from the darkness of my room.

“Jesus fucking Christ Reid, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I jumped from my place, surprised to see him standing there, leaning on the frame of my bathroom door. "No one ever taught you how to knock on a door?" I muttered under my breath.

"First of all, your door was unlocked, and second of all," he shook his head disapprovingly. "That's a very foul mouth you have, you should really watch your tongue," he chided. I felt his gaze lingering appreciatively on how the dress hugged my curves and accentuated my breasts.

From the corner of my eye, I lightly took in his appearance. The tailored suit fit him like a glove, different from what he wore every day. He looked more relaxed, better, hotter.

I was taken aback when I saw him move and enter the bathroom. My heart started racing as he stood by my side, exchanging a glance with me in the mirror.

"Honestly?I don't think he'd mind waiting for me” I straightened up, finally satisfied with my lipstick.

"Too bad he won't get to see it," he said, chuckling. His left hand met my hip, swiftly turning me around, and I gasped as the small of my back hit the bathroom counter. His own body caged me in, his intense gaze never leaving mine as I looked at him, confused yet strangely drawn to him. His right hand reached for a wipe, and he gently cleared any remnants of the red lipstick. I felt the cold, wet cloth on my lips, erasing any traces of the vivid stain. "If we're going to act like a couple, I don't want your lipstick all over me," Spencer remarked dryly, his expression unamused. "It's not my fault you don't know how to kiss a girl with lipstick, Doctor," I retorted, my annoyance evident in my tone.

"You look good enough," Spencer remarked with a smirk. "I'll be waiting for you in the car." With that, he turned and headed out, leaving me to gather my thoughts before joining him. "Well, this is going to be a long night," I sighed.

--x--

As Spencer drove us to the casino, we found ourselves going over the details of the plan. It was simple; our initial objective was to seamlessly integrate into the casino's scene, mirroring the couples we were emulating.

The plan dictated that Spencer and I had to project the image of a couple deeply in love, sharing glances, engaging in affectionate gestures, and creating an atmosphere that would draw the unsub's attention. Spencer would transition to the poker tables, just as the husbands of the previous victims had, all while showcasing his "trophy wife."

As the night progressed, I would strategically separate from Spencer to lure the unsub into action.

Inside the casino, Rossi and Morgan were playing their part as players, keeping an eye out. The rest of the team was in a van, ready to jump in if things went south.

The objective was clear – act like a couple. How hard could that be?

The tension in the car was palpable, and we exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the complexity of our roles. The success of the operation hinged on our ability to draw the unsub's attention, making him believe we were just another couple enjoying a night out.

The atmosphere in the casino buzzed with energy as Spencer and I entered. The dim lights, the soft murmur of conversations, and the distant chiming of slot machines created a captivating ambiance.

As we made our way to the bar, I reached for Spencer's hand and intertwined my fingers with his.

His eyebrows immediately shot up, a silent question evident in his expression as he glanced at me, perhaps surprised by the sudden display of affection.

"The more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention," I replied, my voice hushed but determined.

His gaze flickerd between our intertwined hands and my face. "Yeah," a small grin playing on his lips. "Just make sure you don't take it too far and end up falling for me."

"That's a good one, Dr. Reid," I chuckled softly, a hint of sarcasm lacing my words. "I'll try to contain myself."

We approached the bar, and Spencer took a seat on a stool. As I moved to stand by his side, he surprised me by pulling me closer, guiding me between his legs. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me snug against him. I was taken aback, but I didn't say a word. Acting like a couple—that was the plan. It was just all part of the plan.

"So what should I call you?" Spencer cut through our silence, his gaze focused on mine. "What should you call me?" I echoed, my voice filled with confusion as I furrowed my brows.

"I'm not going to address you by your real name," Spencer said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We need undercover names. So, what's it going to be?"

His eyes scanned my features, awaiting my response, while I took a moment to ponder. "How about pretty girl?" he proposed with a smirk, his gaze lingering on me. My expression must have betrayed my surprise, but before I could respond, he continued, "Or how about Angel?" The endearing term rolled off his tongue, and I felt a flutter in my chest at the sound.

"Angel seems to resonate with you," he teased, a chuckle escaping his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he awaited my reaction. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, rendering me momentarily speechless.

I closed my eyes, disbelief washing over me. Was this real? Was Spencer really saying these things to me? And during a mission, no less?

"You seem awfully quiet for someone who doesn't know how to shut the fuck up," he said, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. "If I'd known all I had to do was call you angel, I would've done it sooner."

"Sweet names will only get you so far," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Despite the warmth spreading through me at his words, I couldn't shake off the sense of disbelief at the way he was acting. "Oh yeah?" Spencer asked, his tone amused, as I felt his breath tickling my neck before his lips brushed against my skin, leaving a small kiss on my pulse point. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart pounded in my chest as he slowly moved his hands along my waist and lower back. I couldn't focus on anything but the warmth of his body pressed against mine, sending shivers down my spine.

"Doctor Reid, this is highly inappropriate," I managed to utter.

“On the contrary, my sweet Angel," he spoke softly as his small kisses traveled up my neck. "See, this mission requires us to act like a couple, so I'm simply enjoying my time with my wife,” he lightly chuckled as he reached my jawline. “As you said, the more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention”

Suddenly, Hotch's voice disrupted the moment as he barked over the wire in my ear, "Guys, great job. We've got a male in his late 30s to early 40s staring at you; he's moved closer since you arrived. He could be our unsub."

I heard Hotch's words, but my brain struggled to process them as I was too focused on Spencer's eyes, his gaze fixed on mine while his hands lightly pressed me closer.

"Come on, Angel, let's give him a show," Spencer pleaded, his voice laced with a confidence that both shocked and intrigued me. It was unexpected to witness this side of him, but there was something undeniably exciting about it. Perhaps it was his confidence and assertiveness, or maybe it was the way he was taking control and leading the interaction. "Yeah.... let´s.... let´s do it" I lightly nodded my head, I swear he could feel the pounding of my heart against my chest from how close he stood to me.

His right hand reached my face, his touch gentle against my skin. "Angel," he spoke quietly against my lips, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll only keep going if you give me permission."

His eyes were dark, his lips plump, inviting, calling for my attention. I couldn't even form a "yes," but he knew what I wanted. I pulled him closer by his tie, and our lips collided in a hot, messy kiss. I was taken aback by his skill and technique, completely unable to resist him as the heat between us intensified.

Spencer pulled away and wrapped his arms around my body, embracing me in a hug. His warmth was comforting, and I felt a sense of security in his embrace. "He's standing right behind you, gray suit, red tie, black hair," he whispered in my ear, his voice low enough not to be noticed by anyone standing nearby. Suddenly, I was snapped back to reality. The mission. The unsub. He was standing right behind me

"Should we join them?" I asked softly, glancing over toward the tables of poker and motioning for Spencer to start playing, continuing with the plan. He was supposed to hit the games, and I needed to find a way to get myself alone.

"Absolutely, my love," Spencer said with a smile as he rose from his seat.

Still a little dazed from that kiss, my mind was on fire, and my panties were ruined. How was I supposed to continue my life after knowing the effect Spencer had on me? My racing thoughts were only interrupted by the sight of the suspect following us to the tables. Instinctively, my body reacted, and I found myself clinging to Spencer's arm, seeking comfort and reassurance in his presence.

As planned, Spencer sat down at the closest table and began playing, our actions subtly conveying intimacy to onlookers. I wrapped my arms around his neck, planting kisses occasionally, making it clear to everyone that I was his prize, and he was proudly showing me off as his trophy wife.

As he played, I showered him with praise and encouragement. "You're doing so well, baby," I whispered, my words laced with admiration. It was evident that he was enjoying the attention, his gameplay slightly faltering under the distraction of my praise. Despite being a skilled and experienced player, known for his prowess and banned from multiple casinos, he seemed momentarily thrown off his rhythm by my words of encouragement. It was a small victory, a slight advantage gained in my favour.

Feeling the need to draw the unsub away, I leaned in close to Spencer and murmured, "I'm going to step out for some fresh air on the balcony, honey. I'll be back soon."

Spencer nodded, his attention still on the cards. "Okay, sweetheart," he replied with a smile, not once lifting his gaze.

Before I turned to leave, I couldn't resist the urge to plant a quick kiss on his lips, just as part of the plan, playing my role as the devoted wife. After all, that's what a wife would do, right?

The fresh air hit my face, sending shivers down my arms. I didn't need to turn to know he had followed me outside; I could feel his presence on my right side. When I glanced over, he gestured to a drink in his hand, offering it to me. "You look like you could use a drink," he said.

My heart raced, and my breathing quickened as he got closer, but I kept a cool, confident attitude, determined not to let him see my nerves.

"(Y/N), don't drink that. It's laced," Morgan's urgent voice snapped through the wire, jolting me into alertness. "Just keep him talking so Garcia can check him."

My blood ran cold as I registered Morgan's warning. Without missing a beat, I forced a smile and nodded, "Thank you, handsome, but I've had enough tonight," I replied smoothly, declining the drink with a casual wave of my hand.

"That's a big rock on your finger," he pointed out, glancing at my, unknowingly, fake engagement ring. "Why are you here all alone? Where's your husband?" he continued, raising an eyebrow and asking the question directly, as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Well…" I laughed, injecting a flirtatious edge into my voice. "I could ask the same thing," I continued, "Where is Mrs…?"

"Mrs. Desmond? She stayed at home; she doesn't really like poker," he replied nonchalantly. "I'm Steve, by the way," he added, reaching out to shake my hand.

I shook his hand, my heart quickening as I heard Garcia speak from my wire: "Steve Desmond, a 39-year-old banker, is divorced; according to court files, his wife left him after he lost all of their money on poker.” The sound of clicking keyboards could be heard in the background. "The divorce dates coincide with the killings,” Garcia added.

“That sounds like a trigger,” Hotch's voice chimed in.

"Holy moly, he also assaulted a prostitute a couple of years ago, but the charges were dropped and he was never convicted," Garcia spoke nervously.

"That's our guy, (Y/N). Keep him talking; we're on our way,” Hotch said, his voice steady and authoritative.

"Is everything okay?" Steve spoke, his tone taking on a hint of aggression as he grabbed my attention. "Maybe you should take that drink."

“I'm not thirsty, thanks,” I replied firmly, stepping back in an attempt to keep my distance. However, he refused, reaching out and gripping my arm to keep me from moving.

"I'm telling you," he said angrily, his grip tightening. "You're clearly nervous. Just a tiny sip won't hurt." I tried to break free of his grasp, but he was stronger than me and refused to let go

"FBI!" Suddenly, I saw Spencer coming up behind him, his fist connecting with the guy's face with a solid punch, knocking him back into the wall. He was strong and quick; the unsub didn't stand a chance against him. Spencer swiftly pulled out his handcuffs, cuffing him without even breaking a sweat.

"Steve Desmond, you're under arrest for the killings of Amanda Crane, Juliet Sand, and Rebecca Miller,” Spencer announced, his voice firm and authoritative.

Morgan and Rossi soon appeared, Morgan helping the unsub up from the ground and carrying him out as he spoke, "Steve Desmond, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk to an attorney for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford it…” His voice faded as they left, escorting the suspect away from the scene.

Once they were out of sight, Spencer came up to me and reached for my arm, his expression filled with concern. I winced as he touched the red marks left behind by the unsub's grip.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern and care, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

"Um, yeah…" I replied softly, my voice shaky. "I just need a moment to process this." My heart was still racing from the encounter, and I needed a moment to collect myself. Why did he step in like that? I thought to myself, a mixture of gratitude and confusion washed over me. I could've handled the situation on my own—I was trained for this, after all. Yet, there he was, interfering in my work.

After the quiet ride back to the motel, Spencer led me to the door of my room. As we stood there, I realized I could no longer contain the annoyance for how he had handled the situation. The tension of the evening had been building inside me, and I needed to let it out. "Spencer," I began, my voice tinged with frustration. "I appreciate that you were trying to help, but I had it under control. I didn't need you to intervene so quickly," the frustration bubbled inside me, I couldn't help but wonder why Spencer felt the need to intervene. I felt like I had done a great job handling the situation, and his actions made me feel as though he had robbed me of an opportunity to take down the unsub myself.

Spencer's eyes widened in shock as he opened his mouth to speak. "Oh, really?" he said incredulously. "I didn't realize you had everything under control. I just figured that the guy having his hands all over you and aggressively grabbing your arm was cause for concern. But clearly, you didn't need any help."

"Oh, right, because clearly, I was in so much danger," I snapped sarcastically.

"I'm not going to sit around and watch some creepy-as-hell psychopath put his hands all over you," Spencer said firmly, shaking his head in disbelief. His brows furrowed in concern, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and genuine worry. "I won't let him put you at risk of being hurt … or worse." His tone was sharp "Get it through your head; I'm not going to let that happen."

"Oh, right, I wasn't aware this situation called for a 'white knight' to swoop in and save me from myself," I retorted, my tone laced with bitterness. Crossing my arms defensively, I met his gaze head-on. "Since when did my safety become your problem?"

"Since the moment we met, you stubborn brat," Spencer snapped back, his frustration evident in his tone.

"Since the moment we met? That's so much bullshit," I shot back, my voice rising with indignation. "Since when did you care about my safety so much?" I challenged him, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You've never shown me any compassion before, so why now? Hun?"

And then, suddenly, his lips crashed against mine, his body pressing mine firmly against the door with a resounding thud. I felt the heat of his body press on mine, the tension that had been building between us explode in an instant.

His kiss was messy and sloppy, but damn, it was hot. There was an urgency in the way our lips crashed together, fueled by a raw desire that couldn't be tamed. As the kiss deepened, the air grew thin, and I felt myself getting breathless. With a gasp, I had to pull away,

“What the fuck was that about?” I whispered, not being able to back away from his hold.

"When I kissed you at the casino, I finally understood," he muttered, his forehead resting against mine. "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

[krypticcafe]

Reader/ Y/n coming back to base covered in blood and tortured while 141 + Alejandro had no idea where reader was since they left in the morning.

Reader is "the little sibling/adopted child that we must protect all cause" to the boys

Love your writing so much ❤️

As Long as I'm Here

rating: mature

pairing(s): platonic gn!reader x 141 + alejandro

warning(s): canon-typical violence, language, drugs and drugging, torture, blood, military inaccuracies, no use of y/n, no beta read

a/n: Hope you don't mind that I decided to put this all in one long fic, kinda struggled with the writing direction with this since I had to rewrite it multiple times and I had to cut it short so I'll probably make a part two?

synopsis: it's going to take a lot more than simple torture to keep you from going back to the 141.

Part Two is now up!

"I'll be back before they know it."

Those were the last words you thought to yourself before you hopped off the helicopter. You and a team of other capable members of SpecGru and the Los Vaqueros had left before the crack of dawn for a joint operation and anticipated coming back by the afternoon if things went smoothly. And of course, they didn't.

No, you couldn't be afforded such a luxury as seen by how you were overwhelmed in battle. You wish you could've said you did your best, but god dammit you should've checked before entering that building, thinking you could lure the enemy away from the rest of your team. Compared to the hours you spent strapped to a chair with nothing but fluorescent light and a buzzing in your ears to compliment the throbbing pain in your head, you started to prefer the option of joining the rest of your teammates becoming target practice instead.

It didn't help either that the people who caught you were sick bastards. You could deal with the punches, a kick to the crotch, the hair pulling, cigar smoke, the blades, and having your body slammed around the place. It was nothing compared to practice with the 141 and prior missions you had with them. But when the metal cart of syringes came out, you knew you were beyond fucked, even when you had a swollen eye, a busted lip, broken ribs, open cuts, and burns. They took it a step further and injected experimental drugs you were supposed to investigate, homemade concoctions as they lovingly called them.

By pure shitty luck, you only escaped because one of them was stupid enough to clean up after offering you a glass of water when you woke up after passing out, dropping and shattering it in front of you, and not bothering to clean up. When your guard left to go take a piss break, you threw yourself to the floor and tried to squirm your way to the glass, using a shard to cut through your ropes. Once your guard came back, you pretended to still be bounded to your seat, coaxing him to come closer as if you wanted to confess something, and slit his throat. From there, it was easy now that you had a gun.

Or at least it was supposed to be. Maybe it was the heat of the moment or the adrenaline of finally being able to move, but the drugs hadn't fully kicked in until now. Your whole world seemed to sway, or maybe it was just you. You couldn't tell, all that mattered was that you could fight. Based on the layout of the building you were in, you were still in the same area as you were before. It took more bullets than you would've liked to admit to take down the guards that were in your way, but how was it your fault when the only two thoughts in your head were 'Where the fuck is my stuff' and 'God I'm gonna puke'.

Whoever kidnapped you really didn't think things through. Security was tight on the second floor but the bottom floor just had a single guy in the kitchen messing with a bag of crackers. You aimed your gun at him and click!

Click!

Clickclickclick!

Shit.

Well that caught his attention. You ducked down right when he reached for his gun, tossing your empty one to the side now that you'd be doing this the hard way. Waiting with bated breath, you took your window of opportunity, lunging when he had to reload. You took him by such surprise that he fumbled to put in another magazine and that allowed you to knock the weapon from his hands and tackle him to the ground. The both of you struggled on the hardwood floors for what felt like hours, but it was only a minute at most. Even in your feverish, dizzy, survival-instincts-only state, you overpowered him and stabbed him with his own knife.

Towering over the body, you gasped for breath, feeling your lungs struggling to expand and contract if you didn't force yourself to focus on the task. Great, now you're sweaty, weak, bloody, and out of breath. Based on how your hands started trembling, your symptoms were getting worse. Pacing around the area, you found your bag on a couch and fished around for the radio, yelling out your callsign before the rest of them would discover why their friends were suddenly so silent over comms.

"Sending coordinates, get a chopper over to exfil ASAP. And a damn medic."

The 141 were back from their own mission when they had heard the news of your distress call. Ghost was on the verge of strangling one of men that was on the team with you if they didn't add the fact that you made a reckless move for the sake of the team. Ghost could agree that it was something that only you would do despite his constant arguing with you and his protectiveness over you. He'd keep an eye out for you from the shadows both on base and in the field, be the one to challenge you to push your limits during your sparring matches, make sure you were well-trained so you could protect yourself. And yet you would instead protect the 141's asses countless times.

Ghost was brooding in the helicopter, well, more like sulking after a mission with you and Soap. During the crossfire, he wasn't able to keep an eye out for his flank and see the grenade flying for him. In a desperate move, you shoved him out of the blast range with all your strength, landing you with a couple burns and injuries, but nothing fatal. You knew he was going to get moody afterwards, giving a knowing glance to Soap before turning back to Ghost and nudging his leg with your boot.

"Hey, L.T, you were in the British S.A.S, right?"

"..."

"Just answer the question! C'mon Ghost, for me? Pleaaaase?"

"Affirmative."

"So back then, if you were to get bathroom duty, would they call you a Loo-tenant?"

"... negative. Was promoted after joining the 141." He turned his head away, and despite his blunt, by-the-book response, you knew he was smirking under that mask of his, especially with how Johnny and you were both snickering your asses off.

"Ghost?"

Simon snapped out of his thoughts and looked back at Soap, visibly concerned for the masked man but reading him all at the same time. Years of working together helped Soap get over the boundary of Ghost's silence and stoicism, and Ghost wasn't the only one looking out for you after all.

"You alright, L.T?"

"Solid, just need a talk with Price."

"I know what you're thinkin', and as much as I'd love to shove it to the bastards, they're going to need us when they come back. Price will come up with something, we just hafta wait 'til then." For once, Soap was the voice of reason and Ghost couldn't argue with his point.

"He's right, you know." Price stood a few feet away from the two in the hall, "Kid's capable of themselves but they're going to need a shoulder to lean on when they get here. Maybe a couple stitches, too."

Price hoped it was only going to be a few stitches. Though he knew it probably wasn't the case. Alongside Roach and Gaz, he had trained you for these situations, ensuring it would never happen and it never did thanks to his mentorship. He saw you as one of his own and ensured that you'd be able to fight tooth and nail so that it would never end up like this. But now that it has, he could only wonder what could've been done to you for you to get captured.

He didn't want to wonder.

"Bloody hell, what did they do to you?" Gaz muttered, watching as you stepped down the ramp with a soldier aiding at your side. There was an attempt to bandage you up on the way, though it only seemed to be temporary since your bandages were already stained with blood and some of it oozed out. Even the bandages around your head didn't stop the crimson liquid from spilling down the side of your face. The soldier passed you to Gaz, immediately urging that your injuries be tended to.

"Something's wrong, look." Roach helped support your other side to allow Gaz to examine you.

With a closer look, Gaz found that your pupils were disturbingly dilated, eyes glazed over in a way that made you almost look dead. You were muttering and mumbling nonsense under your breath, something about the mission and wanting to go home.

Gaz swallowed an anxious breath and nodded, "We'll get you home soon, buddy. Roach, help me take off their gear."

As soon as the other man began unclipping your vest from your body, it seemed something had pulled a trigger in you.

"No... no you're not- don't fucking touch me-!" You slurred, weakly tearing yourself from the hands of your friends. It surprised Gaz that you had the energy to punch his chest with that much force, but it broke his heart all at the same time. Roach guessed that you were so out of it that you could barely comprehend your surroundings, hell, you probably thought you were still in captivity. It hurt to imagine your perspective, and how vulnerable you felt, thinking they were your enemies.

"What's going on here?" Price's voice rose over all the noise as people tried to calm you down, Soap and Ghost following behind him along with Alejandro, who joined them with no hesitance after hearing what happened.

Roach approached them, "I don't know, the Sergent just came back like this, like they're in some kind of haze."

"They're drugged, at least, I think. I took a look at them and they don't even look like they recognize us," Gaz struggled to keep you from falling but you were insistent on getting away from him, from everyone. Thankfully, Ghost had come up from behind you without being noticed and locked you in a hold. You tried to flail even more, but with your weakened state and Ghost's strength, all you could do was yell with sloppy words for him to let go of you. It hurt them all to hear you yowl and yelp like an animal in pain, but they knew that you'd only hurt yourself more if Ghost didn't keep you like this. He forced himself to ignore your cries and clenched his jaw, focusing on keeping his temper and how he was going to let it out when given a chance.

"Steamin' Jesus, Price, I thought this was a cartel recon mission?" Soap seethed at the thought of what might've happened. Torture was one thing, but it was this whole new level of "fucked-up" that had him wanting to snap and tear at the throats of your tormentors.

"It was," Alejandro spoke up, "There was talk of a new drug on the market, released even though it was 'incomplete'. Nobody know that it was more dangerous than it was supposed to be, nobody outside of them." The words left a sour taste in his mouth. Cartels being reckless was nothing new to him, it was something he had seen time and time again. But it was the lack of awareness, the blatant disregard for safety and society, and how they betrayed their own people that made him livid. As a leader, he emphasized his loyalty and dedication to his soldiers, which was why he considered those who worked for and with him to be friends or even family, like you. So to him, if someone had messed with you, they were messing with him and his army as well.

Price glanced in the direction of you and Ghost for a moment, watching you finally begin to calm down from tiring yourself out. His gaze softened after you finally went limp, but still breathing, and he felt a pang of disappointment in himself for the briefest of moments. Maybe if he had known you'd leave so early in the day, he could've better prepared you. Maybe he should've assigned one of the others to join you so you wouldn't be in this predicament. But he didn't know. He didn't expect things would go this far south. None of them did.

"We'll finish the job first and then," Price took one last look as you were taken away on a stretcher, unconscious but writhing with a pained expression.

"We give them hell."

[mysumeow]

. . . ꒰ TO LURE IN

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Reader is described with AFAB genitalia and breasts, referred to with you/your. YANDERE CHARACTER. Kidnapping, mild descriptions of injuries and blood. As for sexual content: piv unprotected sex, reader on top, restraints (ropes used on reader), thighjob. Kinich takes a dominant role. Not proofread 🙈. Art by 0_0himawa

ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: You suspect Kinich's not taking care of himself well. Used to looking out for him since childhood, you decide to find out by yourself the truth.

ᓚᘏᗢ WORD COUNT: 3.6k

Ajaw’s fame preceded him.

Rude, spiteful and tactless, to be precise. The “Almighty Dragon” lived for pushing his companion’s buttons as far as possible, making fun of him and expressing his desire for him to perish soon.

That’s the reason you didn’t believe Ajaw when he “informed” you Kinich put himself in harm’s way on purpose so you would heal his wounds.

Your obvious reaction was to scoff at him and disregard his stupid statement.

“I remember that time you tried to trick people into jumping off a cliff without a rope. I wouldn’t believe a word that comes from someone like you.”

“Fine! Allow yourself to be manipulated by this moron, be my guest!” Ajaw mouthed off in his typical Ajaw style. “Your puny human brain won’t let you see the obvious signs!”

Kinich was unfazed by the self-proclaimed dragon lord, used to his antics. “Shut up or I’ll put you in time out. Do you want that?”

While they were bickering, you assessed the hunter’s physique.

Overall, he was fine. Of course he would be. He’s an experienced hunter. However, he came back with gashes on his left arm dripping with blood and yet, he was more focused on trying to quiet Ajaw down.

“Though target this time?” You gently held his wounded arm to get a clear view of how deep it was. Contrary to the last time you cured a begrudging Kinich, this one was longer.

“It’s barely anything to get worried about. I was going to cure it myself before coming here, but I got caught up with something before I could,” he moved his arm away from your touch, not deeming the help necessary. “This happens all the time.”

“Knowing you, you’ll just go on with your day. Come here, let me help you.”

You expected Kinich to resist again, but he didn’t. He followed you into your home and waited for you to come back with whichever supply you needed to heal him. Kinich observed you in silence, his half-lidded eyes surveyed your every movement as if you were his next hunt while you rinsed the wounds and whatnot to disinfect them.

It was hard to concentrate with him staring at you.

“You’re lucky those aren’t deep enough to need stitches.” You eased the tension and backed away with a step. “Please be more cautious to prevent those cuts.”

“An oversight of mine caused it. Not a common occurrence for me,” he looked down at the gauze wrapped around his arms. “I thought the trap I set for the yumkasaur was stable and when I got close to it, it lunged its claws at me.” 

Ajaw, who was silent up until now, quipped back with a: “Yeah, not a common occurrence for a seasoned hunter to make such a rookie mistake!”

In the blink of an eye, he was gone. Kinich sent him to Ajaw Jail.

“I’m sorry if he gave you a headache with all that shouting.”

“I’m used to it. When he talks, I kind of zone out, haha.”

Kinich chuckled. “That’s how I deal with his ramblings most of the time, too.”

As much as you enjoyed Kinich’s company, the sun was setting and you both had work to do the next morning. The pleasant encounter had to be cut short.

The following couple of weeks, Kinich stopped visiting you for injury-related motives. Given you’ve been close since childhood, it wasn’t uncommon for you two to visit each other every so often. 

You were starting to wonder about his sudden lack of visits, until he appeared in front of your doorstep suddenly. He wasn’t alone, though. 

“Smack some reason into him, please.” Mualani begged, making it sound like the missing piece to understand Kinich’s psyche was you. “I had to drag him all the way here before he died from blood loss, he didn’t want to come.” 

“You’re exaggerating,” was everything he had to say in his favor. “I just didn’t want to cause an inconvenience.”

The poor fabric of his upper clothes was torn apart with a clean cut across his chest. That didn’t appear done by a saurian, it was kindred to the result of a dagger, or another man-made weapon. You recalled Ajaw’s insistence on Kinich’s growing carelessness.

“Hey, are you okay?” Mualani interjected, concerned by your abrupt silence.

“Ah-Yes, I’m fine.” You shook your head out of your thoughts and walked closer to Kinich to have a good look at him.

“Okay, then. It’s just, for a moment you seemed antsy…” your friend’s troubled expression relaxed, and, at your assurance, she went back to her bubbly mood. “We’ve been witnesses to worse wounds than that. Especially you, since you’re a doctor.”

“No doubt about it,” you nodded and went back to Kinich. “I’ll have to stitch this. This one has been one of the worst I’ve seen you come back with. What it a miscalculation?”

“It wasn’t a miscalculation. I was commissioned by someone and when I got to the place they requested, I was ambushed.”

“You were outnumbered in combat and yet all they got to inflict on you was this? That’s impressive, I’ve got to say,” Mualani nodded along Kinich’s story.

You led Kinich to his usual seat and you got to work.

“Kinich’s a seasoned warrior,” you couldn’t help but praise. “However! If you must retreat, then retreat! It’s not worth your effort trying to put some bitter folks in their place.”

“Mmh.”

“You better listen to the doctor’s advice, Kinich! I won’t forgive you if you keep putting the doctor under stress,” Mualani sighed and crossed her arms, contemplative, before she looked at you. “You’ve always been taking care of Kinich, since you both were children. I value your patience.”

Once your handiwork was ready, you gave your patient a word of caution…

“You should rest for the following three weeks, or else, your wound could open again.”

For some reason, Kinich was taken aback by your instructions. He blinked twice, analyzing what you just said.

“I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Put them on hold. Three weeks,” you insisted and placed your hands on his forearms, Kinich’s eyes locked on yours.

“Alright.” With a resigned tone, he agreed and got ready to leave.

Mualani stayed for a little longer.

“You said you had to drag him here? Why?” You couldn’t help but wonder, now that he was gone, it was your time to question.

“You know how he is. He isn’t fond of receiving help from anyone and he was convinced he could deal with it himself.”

“Mualani…I’m worried about him. Ajaw mentioned something about Kinich being inattentive on purpose during his hunts. I found it hard to believe because: why would he have a reason to do that? And second, I don’t trust Ajaw.”

She stayed in contemplative silence for a second. “You’re right, that’s unlike him. Hm…I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

“Thank you,” you felt a bit more at ease. “It’s getting late. You should head home and rest.”

“You should rest too. See you.” She smiled and waved a hand at you.

To rest, it was something you wanted to do and yet, your worry regarding Kinich wouldn’t allow it. You paced back and forth, trying to figure out whether you were overthinking, or your unease had an actual foundation.

You supposed Kinich’s line of work was prone to lesions, even if talking about someone experienced. There were factors that one simply can’t have under control always. He wasn’t one to come back this bruised and damaged this often. 

Maybe something was bothering him? Was something keeping him up at night? That could explain his lack of attention during the day.

The more you pondered about it, the more uncertainty grew with it. You were antsy, and thus, decided to go see him. You had a hunch something wrong was about to happen, and you couldn’t ignore the feeling.  

He had to be home. If he really heeded your instructions, then he should be there.

The lights of his house were off. He was probably in bed already.

You felt silly. You were fretting over nothing.

As you were about to head back to your house, footsteps caught your attention.

The urge to question him what he was doing outside instead of resting was strong, however…

You decided it was a better idea to limit yourself to observation.

Despite Kinich’s forwardness, he could be reticent about opening up about certain things. Since you’ve known him for a good portion of your life, you suspected that if you were to outright ask him about what was going on with him recently, he would try to convince you nothing was amiss.

And thus, this was how you found yourself following him in the dead of night. Concealed in complete darkness; and said darkness became more apparent once you were out of the comfort of human inhabited areas. The thought of turning back was tempting, but your resolve for answers was sturdier.

You followed him into the forest and made sure to keep up with him as much as possible. Thankfully, Kinich’s stride was tranquil the whole time. He arrived at a clearing and sat his bags down. You stayed behind the foliage and noticed he brought with him a camping tent.

You didn’t know the details of how exactly he plans his hunts, but you surmised that perhaps this camping arrangement had something to do with it.

So, he wasn’t planning on resting.

“You—”

Before you could finish your reprimand, you stepped on something which awoke a contraption. In the blink of an eye, a rope quickly secured around your ankle, leaving you upside down.

At the sound, Kinich was swift on his feet and found you.

“…”

“…”

“What are you doing?”

“Does it look like I’m having fun here? Help me already!” you were flustered.

He took a Swiss knife out of his pocket to cut the rope. He caught you in time and didn’t suffer harm.

“Now, will you answer my question?” He placed you back on the ground gently.

You exhaled, making your stress clear. “You’ve been acting strange as of late. Plus, I wanted to make sure you would take a break and allow your wounds to heal. That’s why…”

“You stalked me?” He finished for you.

“I was worried, okay?” you huffed, feeling the rise in heat on your face again. By definition, he was right. That didn’t mean it was any less embarrassing for you.

“Pfft—”

Kinich, whose face was in his usual serious expression, switched to a smile. He covered his mouth as he chuckled, for some reason he found amusement in your confession.

“It’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just—” his soft laughter died down a bit, allowing him to speak. “I knew you were following me.”

You gaped at him.

“I wanted to see how you would try to explain yourself. Again, I’m sorry. Both for poking fun at you and for making you worry.”

You hmphed.

“If you think a simple apology’s enough for my forgiveness, you’re wrong. I’m going back home.”

He grabbed your wrist before you could take another step away. “You won’t make it. You’ll get lost. Stay with me.”

Kinich’s watchful eyes glinted with intent under the moonlight.

“There’s enough space for the two of us in there.” He began setting the tent up with ease. He was used to sleeping outdoors and knew how to set it up with little hindrance.

“Hey, where’s Ajaw? I haven’t seen him today.”

“In timeout.”

Whereupon it was ready for use, he waited for you to get in before he zipped the entrance behind him.

For reduced space like this, the tent inside looked comfortable.

“Huh, this is more spacious than what I expected. Do you often…?”

Your voice lowered in surprise when you saw him slide his jumpsuit off, leaving him in the black clothes he wore under it. Was he really going to undress with you in here?

“You were saying?”

“Uhm. I was going to ask if you often camp outside to complete hunting commissions...”

“Whenever I deem it necessary. For example, if I think the target will give me more trouble than other ones,” he undid his headband and folded it next to his discarded jumpsuit. Kinich without his headband was a rare sight, one that you didn’t mind being a witness to.

“Oh. So, this target you’re going after, is it more challenging?”

His eyes fixed on you for a second, inspecting you. “It is. Also, are you going to sleep like that?”

You haven’t even shrugged your coat off.

Well, of course you wouldn’t. But… you thought maybe it would be a better idea to wait for him to turn the lamp off, at least.

While you were contemplating, Kinich undid the harness and took his upper clothes off in a swift motion.

“Ah! Careful when you rise your arms!” you went to check that the suture didn’t open. “Aren’t you in pain? You did move quite brutishly there,”  

“It does hurt,” albeit his words, he didn’t show discomfort the instance your fingers trailed close to the suture.

“I didn’t know you wore a second pair of pants under that jumpsuit. You’re going to give yourself a heatstroke,” you chastised him, in an attempt to ignore your racing heart. “What if you get in real trouble and I’m not in the village if you need me?”

It wasn’t unusual for him to be silent, but this one went on for a second longer. That was the impression you got. It prompted you to meet his unyielding gaze, words abandoned at the back of your throat.

 Kinich leaned in, a soft kiss which feathered on your lips. You jolted, although the gesture wasn’t unwelcome. You found purchase by placing your hands on his shoulders as the intensity began to heighten. You couldn’t ignore the softness of his lips, or the way his hands traveled down the small of your back, or how he stopped breathing while he devoured your mouth—mind set on stealing your breath away. You were enraptured by the absolute need he chased your lips and tongue, you lost track of time.

A momentary halt was needed, for him to rid you of your clothes. You watched him pull your coat off, to then redirect his attention to the buttons of your shirt. When the time to remove your lower garments arrived, you tried to give him a hand; however, Kinich interrupted your attempt by summoning one of his ropes to tie your wrists over your head. The same green ropes you would see him use when he wanted to grapple quickly to a high place, the ones he mastered after the attainment of his Vision.

You shot him an inquisitive glance.

“Seeing you like this turns me on a lot.”

“Kinich!” you were baffled. You didn’t expect him to be this forward about his desires.

“Sorry. Too blunt? Then…” in thought, he put a finger on his chin. “The sight of your bare body at my mercy is a delectable view which…turns me on.”

Typical Kinich. He doesn’t know how to be tactful.

He hooked his thumbs under your underwear and discarded it. Now that there were no barriers between your body and his, his hand continued to its destination: between your legs.

First, he collected your juices on his thumb before he toyed with your clit, rubbing it in circles as he noted each little jolt and twitch, he provoked on you. You whined his name, wishing you could reach out to him and tease his body like he was doing to yours.

“You should untie me. It should be me taking care of you,” you said, remembering his stitches.

“Later.”

“Later? Oh—”

Kinich had grabbed your thighs and parted them with unprecedented strength. Open, and ready for him, Kinich slipped his dick in between your thighs and pushed them close again.  At his own leisure, he jutted his hips forward, getting off with them. A rapid buildup of precum formed on the tip, droplets of it slid down his member after some minutes.

The back-and-forth movements stimulated your clit, causing your pussy to clench around nothing. Sighs and soft moans escaped from the hunter’s mouth, he threw his head back meanwhile the pace he set became faster and the grip on your skin tighter.

“Hey. Gently. The stitches…!” you babbled, hanging on to that sliver of clarity amidst the pleasure.

Your warning did little to deter him from chasing the high he was after, the tent filled with the sounds of his lower body smacking into yours with a hasty need; you weren’t used to seeing the hunter fall victim to his impulses. If maintained that angle and pace, you would come anytime soon.

Which happened. You arched your back off the bed and your legs came to wrap around him, keeping his body flush to yours. With a sharp inhale, Kinich’s movement ceased, eyebrows deeply furrowed as he did his best to not follow you after your orgasm. He wanted to be inside of you, after all.

You register the rustling of sheets while he adjusts your positions.

He grabbed your hips to place you on top of him, his back against the bed.

Through half-lidded eyes, he peers at you with unbridled hunger. They way he leered at your body, at the hickeys and bite marks left behind…Against odds, your libido reignited.

The head of his cock nudged into your entrance; a hitched moan escaped you. You were sensitive after your first orgasm, after all. Your flesh might be tender, but the desire didn’t die down yet. You were thankful that Kinich waited for you, hands patiently in place on your hips.

You relaxed your muscles and sunk further down his dick. Your pussy stretched around it, slick and ready for his size. His fingers dug deeper into you when you did, and despite Kinich’s effort to preserve his controlled expressions, the heaved breath he exhaled betrayed him.

Your movements were controlled for the time being, in the process of setting a tempo. Kinich’s cock filled you pleasantly, stroking at every good spot inside of you. His grasp on your hips moved to your tits to pinch your nipples with his thumbs and forefinger.

“Please…Kinich. Untie me,” you panted. “I want to touch you too.”

“You can already touch me, even with those binding you.” To show you what he meant, he led your hands towards his sweaty abdomen, your palms flat against it. You could feel his muscles tense and flex like that, rise and fall to meet your hips.

You wanted more than that. Why was he being cruel?

Your thighs were starting to burn, but the need to chase that second orgasm barely allowed you to notice it.

You pleaded again.

This time, Kinich was considerate and untied you.

“Ah—Fuck—” he gasped when you rode him faster; in turn, he kept his fingers stroking on your clit. When that sought climax happened, you keened and came around his cock. At last, that urge was satisfied. Kinich’s arms wrapped around you to bring your torso towards him while he came, thrusting with conviction and shooting his cum inside.  

Kinich didn’t let go, his toned arms kept you in a hug. He didn’t pull out yet either, the thought didn’t cross his mind. The proximity of your bodies—addicting to him, he wasn’t ready to release you.

You were exhausted to the point you fell asleep near immediately.

The next morning, you stirred awake.

Your joints ached. Well, other parts of your body ached, to be honest. That wasn’t what bothered you in this moment, but the sensation of…

Where were you?

At the realization that you were no longer in the comfiness of the tent, or in the position you slept in last night, you panicked.

You recognized this place. It was Kinich’s house. Your inspection traveled to the ropes that restricted your wrists and ankles.

“Good morning, Kinich,” you heard the voice of someone outside. “I stopped by here yesterday, but you weren’t here. Were you hunting?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, I see. I should’ve imagined,” the man said with amusement in his voice. “Anyways, I came here to tell you that the chief…”

Your first instinct was to call for help, but the cloth gag prevented you from that. You were fighting to free yourself, you stopped listening to the conversation those two were having.

The noise of a door opening and closing made you freeze, Kinich entered the room. His eyes found yours, and you had to gather the entirety of your willpower to not lash out at him when he crouched down to remove the gag.

This was your childhood friend. Surely you could try to dialogue with him? Or was it mere wishful thinking?

“What’s going on, Kinich? Is this…some kind of twisted joke?”

“Have I ever done something like that?” That damned flat tone of his—like he wasn’t taking you seriously. “You’ll stay here. With me.”

“You can’t be for real,” you stammered in disbelief at his revelation. “You’re not planning on holding me hostage for ever…right?”  

“That depends on you. If you behave, I’m willing to negotiate with you.”

You’d been in shock this whole time, but the severity of the situation you were in, finally dawned upon you. A painful tightness which sprouted from your chest, extended to the rest of your body. Not once, in your lifetime, had you imagined Kinich betraying you this way. To be capable of such treachery, toy with your feelings and whisking you away from the outside world.

“I can’t believe you’re less trustworthy than Ajaw. Was he telling me the truth all this time? That you were placing yourself into danger so I…would nurse you back to health?”

“Ah, that,” Kinich crossed his arms, his fingers tapped on the side of his arm. His answer took longer than what you felt comfortable with, you grew wary of what he would confess next. “It’s not exactly what you think it is. I just wanted to lure you into my trap.”  

Ajaw’s fame preceded him.

Rude, spiteful, and tactless, to be precise. The “Almighty Dragon” lived for pushing his companion’s buttons as far as possible, making fun of him, and expressing his desire for him to perish soon.

That’s the reason why you didn’t believe Ajaw when he “informed” you Kinich put himself in harm’s way on purpose so you would heal his wounds.

Your reaction was to obviously scoff at him and disregard his stupid statement.

“I still remember that time you tried to trick people into jumping off a cliff without a rope. I wouldn’t believe a word that comes from someone like you.”

“Fine! Allow yourself to be manipulated by this moron, be my guest!” Ajaw mouthed off in his typical Ajaw style. “Your puny human brain won’t let you see the obvious signs!”

Kinich was unfazed by the self-proclaimed dragon lord, used to his antics. “Shut up, or I’ll put you in time out. Do you want that?”

While they were bickering, you assessed the hunter’s physique.

Overall, he was fine. However, he came back with gashes on his left arm. They were dripping with blood, and yet he was more focused on trying to quiet Ajaw down.

“Though target this time?” You gently held his wounded arm to get a clear view of how deep it was. Contrary to last time you cured a begrudging Kinich, this one was longer.

“It’s barely anything to get worried about. I was going to cure it myself before coming here, but I got caught up with something before I could,” he said, moving his arm away from your touch, not deeming the help necessary. “This happens all the time.”

“Knowing you, you’ll just go on with your day. Come here, let me help you.”

You expected Kinich to resist again, but he didn’t. He followed you into your home and waited for you to come back with whichever supply you needed to heal him. Kinich observed you in silence, his half-lidded eyes surveyed your every movement as if you were his next hunt while you rinsed the wounds and whatnot to disinfect them.

It was hard to concentrate with him staring at you.

“You’re lucky those aren’t deep enough to need stitches.” You eased the tension and backed away with a step. “I don’t know how you got those cuts, but be more careful.”

“It was caused by an oversight of mine. Not a common occurrence for me,” he looked down at the gauze wrapped around his arms. “I thought the trap I set for the yumkasaur was stable, and when I got close to it, it lunged its claws at me.” 

Ajaw, who was silent up until now, quipped back with, “Yeah, not a common occurrence for a seasoned hunter to make such a rookie mistake!”

In the blink of an eye, he was gone. Kinich sent him to Ajaw Jail.

“I’m sorry if he gave you a headache with all that shouting.”

“I’m used to it. When he talks, I kind of zone out, haha.”

Kinich chuckled. “That’s how I deal with his ramblings most of the time, too.”

As much as you enjoyed Kinich’s company, the sun was setting and you both had work to do the next morning. The pleasant encounter had to be cut short.

The following couple of weeks, Kinich stopped visiting you for injury-related motives. Given you’ve been close since childhood, it wasn’t uncommon for you two to visit each other every so often. 

You were starting to wonder about his sudden lack of visits, until he appeared in front of your doorstep suddenly. He wasn’t alone, though. 

“Smack some reason into him, please.” Mualani begged, making it sound like the missing piece to understand Kinich’s psyche was you. “I had to drag him all the way here before he died from blood loss. He didn’t want to come.” 

“You’re exaggerating,” was everything he had to say in his favor. “I just didn’t want to cause an inconvenience.”

The poor fabric of his upper clothes was torn apart with a clean cut across his chest. Lacerations caused by saurians were different. This one? It was kindred to the result of a dagger or another man-made weapon. You recalled Ajaw���s insistence on Kinich’s growing carelessness.

“Hey, are you okay?” Mualani interjected, concerned by your abrupt silence.

“Ah, yes, I’m fine.” You shook your head out of your thoughts and walked closer to Kinich to have a good look at him.

“Okay, then. It’s just, for a moment, you seemed antsy…” Your friend’s troubled expression relaxed, and, at your assurance, she went back to her bubbly mood. “We’ve been witnesses to worse wounds than that. Especially you, since you’re a doctor.”

“No doubt about it,” you nodded and went back to Kinich. “I’ll have to stitch this. This one has been one of the worst I’ve seen you come back with. What it a miscalculation?”

“It wasn’t a miscalculation. I was commissioned by someone, and when I got to the place they requested, I was ambushed.”

“You were outnumbered in combat, and yet all they got to inflict on you was this? That’s impressive, I’ve got to say,” Mualani nodded along with Kinich’s story.

You led Kinich to his usual seat, and you got to work.

“Kinich’s a seasoned warrior,” you couldn’t help but praise. “However! If you must retreat, then retreat! It’s not worth your effort trying to put some bitter folks in their place.”

“Mmh.”

“You better listen to the doctor’s advice, Kinich! I won’t forgive you if you keep putting the doctor under stress,” Mualani sighed and crossed her arms, contemplative, before she looked at you. “You’ve always been taking care of Kinich, since you both were children. I value your patience.”

Once your handiwork was ready, you gave your patient a word of caution.

“You should rest for the following three weeks, or else your wound could open again.”

For some reason, Kinich was taken aback by your instructions. He blinked twice, analyzing what you just said.

“I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Put them on hold. Three weeks,” you insisted and placed your hands on his forearms, Kinich’s eyes locked on yours.

“Alright.” With a resigned tone, he agreed and got ready to leave.

Mualani stayed for a little longer.

“You said you had to drag him here? Why?” You couldn’t help but wonder. Now that he was gone, it was your time to question.

“You know how he is. He isn’t fond of receiving help from anyone, and he was convinced he could deal with it himself.”

“Mualani… I’m worried about him. Ajaw mentioned something about Kinich being inattentive on purpose during his hunts. I found it hard to believe because: why would he have a reason to do that? And second, I don’t trust Ajaw.”

She stayed in contemplative silence for a second. “You’re right, that’s unlike him. Hm… I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

“Thank you,” you felt a bit more at ease. “It’s getting late. You should head home and rest.”

“You should rest too. See you.” She smiled and waved a hand at you.

To rest, it was something you wanted to do. Nonetheless, your worry regarding Kinich wouldn’t allow it. You paced back and forth, trying to figure out whether you were overthinking or whether your unease had an actual foundation.

You supposed Kinich’s line of work was prone to lesions, even if talking about someone experienced. There were factors that one simply can’t have under control always. He wasn’t one to come back this bruised and damaged this often. 

Maybe something was bothering him? Was something keeping him up at night? That could explain his lack of attention during the day.

The more you pondered about it, the more uncertainty grew with it. You were antsy and thus decided to go see him. You had a hunch something wrong was about to happen, and you couldn’t ignore the feeling. 

He had to be home. If he really heeded your instructions, then he should be there.

The lights in his house were off. He was probably in bed already.

You felt silly. You were fretting over nothing.

As you were about to head back to your house, footsteps caught your attention.

The urge to question him about what he was doing outside instead of resting was strong, however…

You decided it was a better idea to limit yourself to observation.

Despite Kinich’s forwardness, he could be reticent about opening up about certain things. Since you’ve known him for a good portion of your life, you suspected that if you were to outright ask him about what was going on with him recently, he would try to convince you nothing was amiss.

And thus, this was how you found yourself following him in the dead of night. Concealed in complete darkness, and said darkness became more apparent once you were out of the comfort of human inhabited areas. The thought of turning back was tempting, but your resolve for answers was sturdier.

You followed him into the forest and made sure to keep up with him as much as possible. Thankfully, Kinich’s stride was tranquil the whole time. He arrived at a clearing and sat his bags down. You stayed behind the foliage and noticed he brought with him a camping tent.

You didn’t know the details of how exactly he plans his hunts, but you surmised that perhaps this camping arrangement had something to do with it.

So, he wasn’t planning on resting.

“You—”

Before you could finish your reprimand, you stepped on something that awoke a contraption. In the blink of an eye, a rope quickly secured around your ankle, leaving you upside down.

At the sound, Kinich was swift on his feet and found you.

“…”

“…”

“What are you doing?”

“Does it look like I’m having fun here? Help me already!” You were flustered.

He took a Swiss knife out of his pocket to cut the rope. He caught you in time and didn’t suffer harm.

“Now, will you answer my question?” He placed you back on the ground gently.

You exhaled, making your stress clear. “You’ve been acting strange as of late. Plus, I wanted to make sure you would take a break and allow your wounds to heal. That’s why…”

“You stalked me?” He finished for you.

“I was worried, okay?” You huffed, feeling the rise in heat on your face again. By definition, he was right. That didn’t mean it was any less embarrassing for you.

“Pfft—”

Kinich, whose face was in his usual serious expression, switched to a smile. He covered his mouth as he chuckled; for some reason, he’d found amusement in your confession.

“It’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just—” His soft laughter died down a bit, allowing him to speak. “I knew you were following me.”

You gaped at him.

“I wanted to see how you would try to explain yourself. Again, I’m sorry. Both for poking fun at you and for making you worry.”

“If you think a simple apology’s enough for my forgiveness, you’re wrong. I’m going back home.”

He grabbed your wrist before you could take another step away. “You won’t make it. You’ll get lost. Stay with me.”

Kinich’s watchful eyes glinted with intent under the moonlight.

“There’s enough space for the two of us in there.” He began setting the tent up with ease. He was used to sleeping outdoors and knew how to set it up with little hindrance.

“Hey, where’s Ajaw? I haven’t seen him today.”

“In timeout.”

Whereupon it was ready for use, he waited for you to get in before he zipped the entrance behind him.

For reduced space like this, the tent inside looked comfortable.

“Huh, this is more spacious than what I expected. Do you often…?”

Your voice lowered in surprise when you saw him slide his jumpsuit off, leaving him in the black clothes he wore under it. Was he really going to undress with you in here?

“You were saying?”

“Uhm. I was going to ask if you often camp outside to complete hunting commissions...”

“Whenever I deem it necessary. For example, if I think the target will give me more trouble than other ones,” he undid his headband and folded it next to his discarded jumpsuit. Kinich without his headband, was a rare sight, one that you didn’t mind being a witness to.

“Oh. So, this target you’re going after, is it more challenging?”

His eyes fixed on you for a second, inspecting you. “It is. Also, are you going to sleep like that?”

You haven’t even shrugged your coat off.

Well, of course you wouldn’t. But... you thought maybe it would be a better idea to wait for him to turn the lamp off, at least.

While you were contemplating, Kinich undid the harness and took his upper clothes off in a swift motion.

“Ah! Careful when you rise your arms!” You went to check that the suture didn’t open. “Aren’t you in pain? You did move quite brutishly there,”  

“It does hurt,” albeit his words, he didn’t show discomfort the instance your fingers trailed close to the suture.

“I didn’t know you wore a second pair of pants under that jumpsuit. You’re going to give yourself a heatstroke,” you chastised him in an attempt to ignore your racing heart. “What if you get in real trouble and I’m not in the village if you need me?”

It wasn’t unusual for him to be silent, but this one went on for a second longer. That was the impression you got. It prompted you to meet his unyielding gaze, words abandoned at the back of your throat.

 Kinich leaned in, a soft kiss that feathered on your lips. You found purchase by placing your hands on his shoulders as the intensity heightened. You couldn’t ignore the softness of his lips, or the way his hands traveled down the small of your back, or how he stopped breathing while he devoured your mouth—mind set on stealing your breath away. The absolute appetite enraptured you as he chased your lips and tongue.

A momentary halt was necessary for him to rid you of your clothes. You watched him pull your coat off, to then redirect his attention to the buttons of your shirt. When the time to remove your lower garments arrived, you tried to give him a hand; however, Kinich interrupted your attempt by summoning one of his ropes to tie your wrists over your head. The same green ropes you would see him use when he wanted to grapple quickly to a high place, the ones he mastered after the attainment of his Vision.

You shot him an inquisitive glance.

“Seeing you like this turns me on a lot.”

“Kinich!” you were baffled. You didn’t expect him to be this forward about his desires.

“Sorry. Too blunt? Then…” in thought, he put a finger on his chin. “The sight of your bare body at my mercy is a delectable view that...turns me on.”

Typical Kinich. He doesn’t know how to be tactful.

He hooked his thumbs under your underwear and discarded it. Now that there were no barriers between your body and his, his hand continued to its destination: between your legs.

First, he collected your juices on his thumb before he toyed with your clit, rubbing it in circles as he noted each little jolt and twitch he provoked on you. You whined his name, wishing you could reach out to him and tease his body like he was doing to yours.

“You should untie me. It should be me taking care of you,” you said, remembering his stitches.

“Later.”

“Later? Oh—”

Kinich had grabbed your thighs and parted them with unprecedented strength. Open and ready for him, Kinich slipped his dick in between your thighs and pushed them close again. At his own leisure, he jutted his hips forward, getting off with them. A rapid buildup of precum formed on the tip, droplets of it slid down his member after some minutes.

The back-and-forth movements stimulated your clit, causing your pussy to clench around nothing. Sighs and soft moans escaped from the hunter’s mouth and he threw his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbed. 

The pace he set became faster and the grip on your skin tighter.

“Hey. Gently. The stitches…!” you babbled, hanging on to that sliver of clarity amidst the pleasure.

Your warning did little to deter him from chasing the high he was after. The tent filled with the sounds of his lower body smacking into yours with a hasty need; you weren’t used to seeing the hunter fall victim to his impulses. If he maintained that angle and pace, you would come anytime soon.

Which happened. You arched your back off the bed, and your legs came to wrap around him, keeping his body flush to yours. With a sharp inhale, Kinich’s movement ceased, eyebrows deeply furrowed as he did his best to not follow you after your orgasm. He wanted to be inside of you, after all.

You register the rustling of sheets while he adjusts your positions.

He grabbed your hips to place you on top of him, his back against the bed.

Through half-lidded eyes, he peers at you with unbridled hunger. The way he leered at your body, at the hickeys and bite marks left behind... Against odds, your libido reignited.

The head of his cock nudged into your entrance; a hitched moan escaped you. You were sensitive after your first orgasm, after all. Your flesh might be tender, but the desire didn’t die down yet. You were thankful that Kinich waited for you, hands patiently in place on your hips.

You relaxed your muscles and sank further down on his dick. Your pussy stretched around it, slick and ready for his size. His fingers dug deeper into you when you did, and despite Kinich’s effort to preserve his controlled expressions, the heaved breath he exhaled betrayed him.

Kinich’s cock filled you pleasantly, stroking at every pleasant spot inside of you. His grasp on your hips moved to your tits to pinch your nipples with his thumbs and forefinger.

“Please…Kinich. Untie me,” you panted. “I want to touch you, too.”

“You can already touch me, even with those binding you.” To show you what he meant, he led your hands towards his sweaty abdomen, your palms flat against it. You could feel his muscles tense and flex like that, rise and fall to meet your hips.

You wanted more than that. Why was he being cruel?

You pleaded again.

This time, Kinich was considerate and untied you.

“Ah—fuck—” he gasped when you rode him faster.

He kept his fingers stroking on your clit. When that sought climax happened, you keened and came around his cock. At last, that urge was satisfied. Kinich’s arms wrapped around you to bring your torso towards him while he came, thrusting with conviction and shooting his cum inside. 

Kinich didn’t let go, his toned arms kept you in a hug. He didn’t pull out yet either; the thought didn’t cross his mind. The proximity of your bodies—addicting to him, he wasn’t ready to release you.

Your exhaustion caused you to fall asleep almost immediately.

The next morning, you stirred awake.

Your joints ached. Well, other parts of your body ached, to be honest. That wasn’t what bothered you in this moment, but the sensation of...

Where were you?

At the realization that you were no longer in the comfort of the tent or in the position you slept in last night, you panicked.

You recognized this place. It was Kinich’s house. Your inspection traveled to the ropes that restricted your wrists and ankles.

“Good morning, Kinich,” you heard the voice of someone outside. “I stopped by here yesterday, but you weren’t here. Were you hunting?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, I see. I should’ve imagined,” the man said with amusement in his voice. “Anyway, I came here to tell you that the chief...”

Your first instinct was to call for help, but the cloth gag prevented you from that. You stopped listening to the conversation those two were having in pro of freeing yourself.

The noise of a door opening and closing made you freeze. Kinich entered the room. His eyes found yours, and you had to gather the entirety of your willpower to not lash out at him when he crouched down to remove the gag.

This was your childhood friend. Surely you could try to dialogue with him? Or was it mere wishful thinking?

“What’s going on, Kinich? Is this…some kind of twisted joke?”

“Have I ever done something like that?” That damned flat tone of his—like he wasn’t taking you seriously. “From today, you’ll stay here. With me.”

“You can’t be for real,” you stammered in disbelief at his revelation. “You’re not planning on holding me here forever, right?” 

“That depends on you. If you behave, I’m willing to negotiate with you.”

You’d been in shock this whole time, but the severity of the situation you were in finally dawned upon you. A painful tightness which sprouted from your chest extended to the rest of your body. Not once had you imagined Kinich betraying you this way. To be capable of such treachery, toy with your feelings and whisk you away from the outside world.

“I can’t believe you’re less trustworthy than Ajaw. Was he telling me the truth all this time? That you were placing yourself in danger so I... would nurse you back to health?”

“Ah, that,” Kinich crossed his arms, his fingers tapped on the side of his arm. His answer took longer than what you felt comfortable with. You grew wary of what he would confess next. “It’s not exactly what you think it is. I just wanted to lure you into my trap.” 

[reidmotif]

Regret on the Rocks

Summary: Spencer finds himself at a bar being served by the girl who once broke his heart. Turns out she feels a lot more than just regret for letting him go.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Light Angst/Smut

Content Warning: drinking, Spencer is a little depressed, mentions of heavy bullying (specifically 3x16), car sex, female masturbation, Spencer POV, heavy kissing, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Regret is an emotion I’m well accustomed to. It’s not to mean that I’m unhappy with my life by any means, but I’m aware of the space between my current situation and the ‘beyond’ that could’ve been if things had just been different. 

If I’d never joined the BAU.

If I’d had a more conventional life in the first place.

If connection came to me as easy as it seemed to other people my age. 

But none of those things seemed to ring true, so I carried regret in me like a bruise of honor. Despite the regret, I faced it every day and lived to do it all over again in the morning. It didn’t mean it was easy, and today proved that. Today, it was hard going to sleep knowing I’d wake up to do it all over again. 

In light of this, I’d found myself in a bar, alone. The case we’d been working on saw little to no fruition despite our efforts, and it’d resulted in another body we couldn’t save. Another person I was responsible for. It weighed down on me more than I cared to admit. 

I found myself continually lost in my thoughts, navigating through the carefully weaved web of guilt and self-doubt, spiraling, until a much softer, surprised voice pulled me out. 

“Spencer Reid? Is that you?” She asks. I hear her voice before I see her, and I know that it’s the bartender stood behind the bar, and there’s confusion as I wonder who could’ve possibly recognized me in a rundown small-town bar.

I look up and meet her eyes, and it’s as if a flood of memories ensues. A flash of recognition crosses my face, and seeing the images playing in my head, almost akin to a film reel, slowly walking me through one of my earliest regrets. 

I was 15, navigating my senior year while being the youngest one there. Despite the oddness of my situation, it never crossed my mind that I shouldn’t have tried so hard to participate in the same social events as my peers. With the hindsight of adulthood, I now imagine that if I had withdrawn, spent more of my time alone than trying to not be,  the hurt of never being accepted would sting less, because I’d never had tried in the first place.

But I had tried, and she was the only one who got me. She was older, yes, and beautiful and popular,  but those didn’t matter half as much as the conversations we’d manage to have. She never seemed to take offense to any ramble of mine, and I’d feel my heart soar when she’d ask questions after my monologues, sending me the clearest signals of interest in what I had to say.

And as a lonely 15 year old? It meant the absolute world to have that. To have her as my friend.

And so, when it came time for senior prom, in the interest of at least trying to fit in, I asked her to go with me. As friends of course, but even then she shook her head, and ruefully told me someone else had asked her. I vaguely recalled the name she’d given me off of a football roster I’d once read while attending the school, and nodded. I understood. I was prepared for the rejection, in fact I’d already taken it the moment she said no. I was prepared to live with it.

Then came the week before prom. Being lured away from the safety of the campus, and onto a football field. Being tied to a flagpole, while everyone watched- and laughed. I remember seeing a face, his face, knowing he was the one who was taking her. Taking (Y/N) to the prom. 

I rarely dwell on the events of that day, but I do remember the regret. I remember wondering that if I’d just never spoken to her, I’d maybe have been less of a target. I wondered if maybe I’d never asked her in the first place, maybe our friendship could’ve survived the whole ordeal, but it hadn’t. She never spoke to me after that, her head hanging low as she continued to hang off of his arm, never sparing me another glance again. 

But here she was, glancing- no, staring at me, her eyes wide. 

“What are you doing here? Are you.. Did you always live here all along?” She asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft and mellow. She was loud back in high school, I remember. She had the best laugh I’d ever known. 

It takes me a second, but I give her a flat smile, setting my glass down. “I’m here for a case, actually.” 

“A case..?” She says, her head tilting a bit in confusion. 

Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah, a case. I’m an FBI agent. I’m here for a recent string of murders being committed in the area.” 

“Wow, FBI, huh? I never thought of you as law enforcement.” She says, her eyebrows raising. “Always thought you were going to change the world with that brain of yours.” She adds, a small smile on her face. My eyes narrow in distrust at the sudden compliment, unsure of her intentions. 

“I’d say I’m changing the world.” I respond, a little defensively. “I like my job. I like that I change lives by not letting them end.”

She immediately retracts her statement, vehemently shaking her head. “No, no! That’s not what I meant at all. I mean, of course you’re changing the world- I just thought you’d be doing more. Okay- not more. I just- Gah. I swear, don’t take it the wrong way.” She pauses, before gesturing to herself.  “I mean, I have no room to talk.” She says, the words a little rushed and frantic. 

“What do you mean, no room to talk?” I ask, squinting in genuine confusion. 

“I mean, I work as a bartender. I don’t know what I want from life, but it’s certainly not this.” She says, motioning to the shelves of drinks behind her, a little defeated. 

She’s so different from when I knew her. Self-assured. Confident. She seemed almost meek in this environment, and the only recognition of the girl I knew came from the small, embarrassed smile she gave me.

“Well. We’re a lot more alike than you think, then. Titles mean nothing.” I say, voice a bit quieter. “I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of, though. We’re just getting through life the best we can, right?” 

She nods a little, seeming to take comfort in my statement. “Look at you. You’ve still got the same sweetness in you from high school.” 

Stiffening at the mention of high school, I just nod and taking another sip from the glass in front of me, which was starting to empty out. “Not trying to be sweet, I think. Just honest.” I say, bluntly.

It’s mean, I’m aware. I can feel her trying, but I don’t want to offer her the same. I want her to feel awkward. I want her to know what she did was wrong. 

There’s a silence that passes through the two of us, before she breaks it with a continued gesture of kindness, turning around to fill another glass with my drink of choice and setting it down in front of me, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“For being honest then. Thank you.” She says, and her eyes meet with mine. I almost hear the unspoken apology in her voice, in the way her fingers slowly push the chilled glass towards my empty hand, in the way she bites her lip softly, waiting to see what I’d say.

“To being honest.” I say, raising the glass slightly and downing the drink a little faster than I intended, not wanting to think too much about the implications of the gesture. To know that she possibly had regrets too. That she might still have the goodness I once knew in her. 

“I have about half an hour left in my shift, but if it’s alright, I’d love to catch up properly.” She says, keeping her gaze trained on mine. “I’ve.. missed you.” She says, her voice soft. 

I don’t respond to her last statement, but I can’t deny the magnetic pull begging me to say yes to her request, to at least see where our lives had gone after our separation. So I nod, silently.

“I’ll be here.” 

I try to lay off the drinks for the next thirty minutes, opting to sip some water instead to clear my mind in preparation for the time I’d be spending with her. Part of me wondered if I shouldn’t have accepted the invite at all. It wasn’t that I forgave her per say,  but the curiosity to know her all over again was overwhelming, regardless of the pain she’d caused me. I’m once again reminded why “curiosity killed the cat” is such an overused aphorism.

She comes up to me thirty-six minutes later, and I hate myself for keeping track. She flashes me a small smile. 

“You waited.” She says, softly. 

“I said I would, right?” I respond, unsure why that would mean anything to her. I agreed to this. I wanted this, even if I could physically feel the inner turmoil brewing throughout my body. I suppose it didn’t show though, because she continued on, smiling. 

“There’s an ice cream place I like around here. Would you like to go?” She asks, and I see her teeth catch onto her bottom lip, the plumpness of the feature being exacerbated by the action, causing me to momentarily lose my train of thought. 

“Uh. Yeah, ice cream. Sounds good.” I say, placing my hands in my pockets. 

“Did you drive here? I mean- I hope not. You drank quite a bit.” She says, starting to walk to the exit of the bar. 

“No, no. My hotel is actually right here. I walked. Needed to get my mind off some things and I ended up here since it was convenient.” I say, and I feel myself falling back into that comfortable rhythm of just being able to speak freely around her. 

It’s like no time has passed at all, and yet I’m acutely aware that nothing is the same. That we’re avoiding a bigger issue at hand. 

“Yeah.” She murmurs. “The murders around here have been grisly, haven’t they?” She says, starting to lead me to her car. “I get nervous when I hear about that stuff, so I find myself looking away from the news more often than not.” She continues, quirking her mouth to the other side, as if she’s aware this isn’t the best course of action, but does it anyway.

“It’s cute.” I think.

I push the thought away. 

“Understandable.” I reply, nodding. “I don’t watch the news either. I mean- I do read the news. But I don’t watch it.” 

She starts the car, and I observe a hint of a grin on her face, her eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that makes my heart jump. “So you still like to read then?” She says, seeming genuinely happy I’d kept up the habit even after my youth. 

“Oh yeah. I mean, reading isn’t something I really ever let go of. It’s a good activity when you’re out on the road so much.” I say, feeling solace in talking about something I truly loved. “Sometimes I feel like books provide me with better stimuli than social interaction.” I continue, unaware of the implications of my words, and I only realize once I’ve seen her raise an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, but I mean. Friends are good too, right?” She says, a hint of concern making her way into her voice. 

I chuckle a little bitterly. “Probably. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I have my team, and I’m grateful but-” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know. It doesn’t come to me like that, you know? And I’m not bothered by it, but I don’t like to think about it.” I say. There’s a faint feeling of heat on my face from the honesty, but I continue to stare straight ahead, not wanting to see her reaction to my words. 

“You were a good friend to me, Spencer. Better than a lot of the friends I had in high school, and I’m not just saying that.” She says, softly. 

I respond without thinking, shaking my head with an embittered motion and a click of my tongue.

“Yeah, and look where that got me.” 

She’s a little silent then, and I refuse to say anything else. She’s the one who invited me here. I don’t know what she wanted out of this, but I wasn’t going to forego my own feelings just to spare hers. I was here. That was enough. I was allowed to say that. 

We pull into an empty parking lot, where I see the neon lights advertising an ice cream parlor, but we don’t get out. She turns off the headlights and blows a bit of air between her lips, placing her hands in her lap and turning towards me. 

“Spencer.” She murmurs, swallowing a bit. “I am so, so sorry for what I did in high school. I know I wasn’t there when.. You know when. And I know I didn’t speak to you afterwards, and I am so sorry.” She repeats. “I hope you believe me when I say I really did miss you. I was such an idiot back in high school, and nothing can repair that, but I missed you so much.” She says. 

I turn to her and can see the tears welling up in her eyes and feel my heart soften. It’s insane, the effect she can have on me, even years later. 

“Hey, don’t cry.” I say, immediately reaching over to wipe a tear from her cheek, my thumb swiping over the expanse of her smooth skin. “It’s just high school. It’s a long time ago.” 

“No.” She says, emphatically, shaking her head. “Don’t lie to me. What I did was awful. It doesn’t matter if it was long ago. You can call me a bitch. You can- scream or hell! I don’t know. You can be angry at me. You should be angry at me. I could never say sorry enough.” She says. 

I shake my head, all the previous resentment and bitterness dissipating instantly. It was a bit odd, feeling the emotions I’d long held onto even years after our fracture go away so quickly, but she was my friend. For what it had been worth, she had been good to me.  And right now, she was my friend, crying in a car, and the guilt and shame couldn’t be more obvious. 

I move to hold her hand, wanting to comfort her, rubbing small circles into the skin near her thumb, her fingers grasping over mine, almost afraid to let me go now.

“You’re right, in a way. What you did confused me and left me feeling really.. lonely. But now that I’m older I think I better understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact you hurt me.” I reply, and I see her jaw tighten, nodding and taking my words to heart. 

“But I don’t think I resent you anymore for what happened.” I continue, the words tumbling out. “Seeing you guilty and ashamed so many years later is just making me wish we’d talked earlier, so we wouldn’t have had to feel this way for so long. Maybe we could’ve.. I don’t know. Picked up where we left off.” 

She gives me a flat smile, tears still in her eyes. “Yeah? I’d have liked that.” She murmurs. 

“I mean it.” I say, flashing her a soft smile. I decided to lighten the conversation for her comfort. 

“Doesn’t mean I won’t call you an idiot for dating that prick though.” I respond, a little teasingly, hoping to get a bigger smile out of her. 

“Oh god.” She says, leaning back, laughing a bit. “Please do. God, he was so .. awful.” She says. “He wasn’t half as funny as you. Just.. boring honestly.” 

I smirk a little at the words, feeling a bit of pride but brushing it off with a shrug. “I mean, it's a cliche right? Beautiful, smart girl with the boring jock?” I say. “You and like, 6 out of 10 high school girls probably fall directly into that category.” 

She gives me a laugh at that one, a real one, and my heart soars upon the sound alone. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed her.

 “6 out of 10? Where’s that statistic from? High School Girls Anonymous?” She responds, matching my energy and continuing the banter.

“Just trust me. I know these things very well.” I say, trying my best to sound as faux academic as possible, hoping to make her feel at ease, to fully let go of the tension from before.

“Well, then.” She says, softly, turning the conversation to be a bit more sincere. “I’m glad I don’t fall into that cliche anymore. I’m glad my taste changed.” 

I nod, surprisingly relaxing into the vulnerability of the words. “Yeah, it happens. Tastes do change throughout life, especially post-adolescence. One could denote it to the development of the prefrontal cortex, but I like to say it’s out of knowing what you want out of life.” 

“Have yours? I mean, your tastes. Have they changed?” She asks, her eyes boring into mine, and I realize that my hand is still holding hers.

I lick my lips and shrug. “Here and there. For the most part, yes, but I find myself clinging to certain aspects of my teenage self.” I respond, vaguely. 

She continues to look at me, nodding. “Mine have. For sure.” “How so?” I ask, my heart speedingbup. 

“I think I learned to like sweeter guys.” She says, softly. “Ones that don’t bore me entirely, and ones I actually want to spend time with. Maybe that’s a cliche in itself but..” She shrugs, ending off her sentence there. 

I nod, wondering where this was leading. Her eyes were trained on mine and I could feel my pulse quickening. Was she going to kiss me? Was I going to kiss her? Was I crazy for thinking that at all? What was happening here? 

“You said you still have certain aspects of your teenage self in your tastes.” She says suddenly, her face moving a bit closer to mine. “What did you mean by that?” 

I sigh, taking in the features of her face, and how they seem to be illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows of her car. She was so stunning, even now. Even after all these years, I couldn’t deny she’d only grown to be more beautiful.

 I lick my lips and nod. “I guess I just meant.. I still find you just as beautiful as I did back when I first knew you. Even moreso now, honestly.” I say, quietly. 

I can feel her breath hitch, and her own tongue darting out to wet her lips, mirroring my actions. Her gaze shifts from my eyes to my lips, and back to my lips again, and I’m extremely aware of what I want at this moment. 

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, my hand still in hers, studying her with a careful gaze. 

She nods almost immediately, and at the same time, we surge forward to meet the other’s lips, her hands immediately cupping my cheek and my hands moving to her waist. I hear the click of her seatbelt being unfastened, and suddenly she’s in the passenger seat with me, straddling my waist and continuing to keep her lips locked firmly on mine. 

It’s like I can’t get enough of her, my hands exploring her back, eventually lowering them to squeeze her ass, which elicits a low moan from her. I pull back a little, panting and see her eyes blown out with lust, causing me to groan from just how deep my desire for her ran in this moment. I let one of my hands to run over her bottom lip, pulling it down and letting it bounce back up, enamored by just how close she was. 

“Fuck.” I murmur, unable to contain my awe at her and without wasting a moment, she’s grabbing my hair roughly to pull me back in again to meet her mouth with mine. When given the opportunity from another soft moan from her, I immediately slip my tongue into her mouth, relishing in the way she grabs my collar and presses her body against mine, matching my enthusiasm one for one. 

It felt so good to be wanted by her.

She starts to whimper at the intensity of our prolonged contact, and the sound activates something primal in me. It was almost as if once I heard it, I couldn’t go back. Pulling myself back from the kiss, I start to trail my lips up and down her neck, leaving hot, wet kisses in my wake while she writhed in my lap, her fingers tugging on my hair in desperation. I played with the motion for a bit, testing out certain points on her, before finding that she’d moan loudest at a pulse point at the junction in which her jawline met her neck. I sucked on the spot, being sure to leave a large, dark mark.

I didn’t care what would happen after this night, but for right now, she was mine, and I intended to treat her as such. 

“You said your hotel room was nearby, right?” She pants, starting to move her thighs off mine. “We can go and-” 

I immediately wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back against me with a force that surprised even me, before gripping her hair and placing my mouth near the shell of her ear. I can hear her squeak at the motion, but her legs relax back into straddling mine. 

“I want you now.” I whisper, my voice hoarse and low. “We can go, if you’d like but- I need you now. I can’t stress that enough.” 

She melts in my arms as I say that, and a grin comes upon my face from the desire she was displaying as well. She nods quickly, before moving her fingers to my belt, and just upon hearing the sounds of the hardware moving, my head involuntarily falls back because- holy fuck. Feeling her so close to where my pants were now currently constricted nearly had me finishing right there. I could barely look at her without feeling overwhelmed. I feel my cock being pulled from my briefs, and I let out a moan. 

I look at her again, and she’s the picture of lust. Her pupils are dilated and her hair is messy, and her mouth slightly agape. She’s everything I want right now. All I want. 

“You’re so big.” She mumbles, leaning back, her hand wrapped around me, beginning to stroke me in a gentle, rhythmic motion. 

“Yeah?” I murmur back, breathing in sharply when her thumb runs over my slit, feeling the precum already dripping down my shaft. Even her hand is making me question if I’ll finish right here before ever getting to be inside her.

“Yeah.” She whispers, almost breathlessly. 

“You can take it.” I say, looking at her, and the girl looks like she’s about to moan off of my words alone. She licks her lips before responding, her voice a bit higher than before. 

“I don’t have a condom- but I’m clean and-” 

“Yes.” I respond immediately and she moves quickly. My fingers, as if possessed, move to unbutton her dress a bit, letting her breasts spill out (to my delight). The urge to strip her bare for me crosses my mind, but then I’m acutely aware that we were in her car, and the risk of being caught was far too high for the pleasantries I wished to indulge her and myself in, and I find myself slightly wishing we had gone to the hotel room. Next time.

Before I get too caught up in the fantasy of possibly ever fucking her again, I see her reach under her dress, presumably to move her panties aside and groan at the thought. My hands roam over her body to find her hips, slowly guiding her onto my cock, her walls squeezing around me tightly as her hips met mine. 

Her moans were sweet, but I found my hand covering her mouth quickly, watching as her eyes shone with pleasure with just the slightest movement from either of us. 

“Need you to stay quiet, pretty girl.” I murmur. “You can do that for me, right?”

She nods, eager to please, and I keep my hand on her mouth for a moment too long as I watch her eyes flutter shut, then open, her hands wrapping around my neck to stabilize herself. She starts moving then, lifting off until my tip is the only thing inside of her, before slamming against me, creating the best type of friction for both of us, causing there to be desperation for more. My hands rush down to grip her waist, and I can barely stifle my own noises from how fucking good she feels.

It’s a frenzy after that, and I match her movements with thrusts from below. I know it’s enjoyable for her, based on how hard she’s trying to not make a single sound, but still lets out the tiniest little whimpers and gasps when my cock grinds against her spot, and from the way her thighs shake every single time I disappear deep into her, a small bulge forming in her lower stomach every time I pushed into her. Every clench and squeeze of her cunt drives me insane, and I can’t help the low groan slipping out of me. 

Her movements get erratic, signaling her end, and I grin at how quickly I managed to get her there. My fingers move to stroke her clit in circular motions, savoring the way I could hear her whisper my name, grinding down on my dick and chasing the feeling of my fingers on her. 

“Close?” I mumble, biting down on her shoulder lightly, which causes a louder moan to slip out of her. 

“Yes. Yes.” She whispers, breathlessly. “Please, Spencer. Oh god. Please.” 

I jut into her more rapidly, continuing the motions against her, before her walls tighten and squeeze around me, and her cunt flooding the base of my cock. I continue to move like a man possessed, swallowing the moans of her orgasm with a messy kiss, before finally, I reach my release as well, coating her walls from the inside out. 

She pants for a second, collapsing against my shoulder as she tries to catch her breath, and I stroke her hair, attempting to do the same. She moans softly, her hands wrapped around me as her eyes flutter open and shut. 

“I was wrong.” She mumbles, nuzzling into my shoulder, kissing it softly. I’m unsure about the meaning of the words, so I quietly ask her. 

“What about?” 

“You’re incredibly different from when we were in high school.” She says, softly. 

“Good or bad different? I ask, a little self consciously, which is amusing considering I’m still inside her. 

“Good. Really, really fucking good.” She clarifies, quickly, with a dazed smile. I lean in, kissing her a bit more softly now, letting my lips languidly trace over hers. 

“You too.” I murmur, and I can feel her smile against my lips.

No regrets about this one. 

WOAHHH. oh em gee. a fic! so so so deeply sorry i didn't live upto posting more fics this december and january, but i swear i'm gonna keep trying to at least get two out a month. valentines day is coming up, so you already know i'm gonna try and write something fluffy and cute for that, so look out for that. as usual, thank you so so much for any and all continued support. it seriously means the world to me and i cannot say that enough <3 i hope this fic was enjoyable. like, reblog, comment, whatever <3 just ty for reading!! <3

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Billy x thief reader 👀 she tries to pick pocket billy without knowing his reputation which only leads to a flirty confrontation. Love your writing smm 💕

Takes two to tango || Billy the Kid x reader

A/n: i love this request, keep them coming!!!!! and thank you anon <333

Warnings: none?

Wc: 673

Billy the Kid masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

Santa Fe's sun dipped low on the horizon, casting golden hues over the terra cote streets. You, adorned in a vibrant red dress that swayed with each sway of your hip, glided through the lively crowd. Your h/c hair framed an innocent smile that could charm even the sternest of faces, a charming and strikingly beautiful young woman whose smile hid secrets, a façade concealing the nimble fingers of a pickpocket.

The people of Santa Fe were oblivious to the danger that walked among them. No one suspected a pretty lady like yourself with a twinkle in your eyes, adorned in jewelry, to be a master of the unsavory art, pickpocketing.

Your charm, your grace that rivaled even the most high status ladies in society was your greatest weapon. Your targets were carefully chosen, and you would distract them with a captivating smile, witty banter, flirtatious charm, and the subtle dance of your nimble fingers.

One fateful day, the town buzzed, a cloud of dust announced the arrival of a lone cowboy. He had an air of mystery about him that drew your attention, a charm that rivaled your own. His rugged features were hidden beneath the brim of his worn hat, his piercing blue eyes surveyed the vibrant scene, taking in the sights and sounds of Santa Fe with a cool confidence.

Unable to resist the lure of a new challenge, you sauntered over to him with a coy smile, your hips swaying subtly with each step. "Well, hello there, stranger. Santa Fe welcomes you," you greeted him, your voice as sweet as honey.

Billy, drawn in by your beauty and charisma, reciprocated with a smile that revealed his dimples, tipping his hat. "Thank you, ma'am. Quite a lively place you got 'ere," his gaze locks on you. "Santa Fe is quite something, I agree." You softly chuckle, your eyes scanning him.

"What brings you here," You tilt your head, letting charm take center change. One corner of his lip tips up, his eyes drifting to the side for a fleeting moment as you inch closer to him.

You engage in conversation as Billy responds with equal enthusiasm. As you spoke, your fingers moved with practiced precision, exploring the edges of his pockets. The marketplace provided the perfect cover, its chaotic ambiance camouflaging your subtle movements.

You reveled in the thrill of the heist, confident that your charm would keep him blissfully unaware. Billy, though new to Santa Fe, was no stranger to the art of survival. His instincts kicked in as he felt the subtle graze of your fingers, and with a swift motion, grabbed your delicate wrist with a slight smirk.

Surprise flashed across your features, but you quickly composed yourself, turning the encounter into a playful interaction. "Well now, what do we have 'ere?" Billy's voice was low and velvety as he spoke. "A charming lady with a mischievous side."

You chuckled, feigning innocence. "Oh, you caught me. I must admit, you're quite perceptive, cowboy. Maybe I just couldn't resist the allure of a handsome cowboy like yourself," Billy's gaze lingered on you, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

Billy chuckled, releasing your wrist. "Well, darlin' you've got nerve I'll give you that, most folks 'round here just tip their hats and move on," You tilt your head coyly to the side at his words.

"I'm not like most folks, and you're not like most cowboys," you arch and eyebrow at him. "Tell me, darlin', what would drive a lady like you to such daring efforts?"

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you responded, "Survival, perhaps," You shrug, Billy's laugh resonated through the air, a deep and hearty sound.

"Well, you've certainly made my day more interesting, ma'am. But I reckon you should find a more honest way to make a living," A challenge flickered between you and the handsome outlaw, an unspoken understanding that there was more to both of you than met the eye.

"They say there are two paths that a women can take; marry, or whore yourself," You began, looking around before you fold your arms. "Tried whoring," Billy's lips part, "but that only made me realise my self-worth more," Your eyes fall down onto the grown at your feet where you kick a rock.

"Oh I know you're worth more than that, sweetheart." Billy steps closer to you, taking your chin in between his fingers which catches you off guard. The air crackled with a tension that transcended mere flirtation. The dance between pickpocket and cowboy had just begun.

"Seems you've got a talent for lightening a man's pockets," Billy remarked, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as you mirror him. You raised an eyebrow, "it's just a little something I picked up along the way. Keeps life interesting, wouldn't you say?"

Billy leaned against a wooden post, his gaze never leaving yours. "Interesting is one way to put it," he swallows, his eyes watching a family walk past, "most folks call it risky business, though," you lock eyes with him once again.

"Oh, but where's the fun without a bit of risk?" you replied, a playful glint in your eyes. "Besides, I've got a knack for it." Billy chuckled, shaking his head, "Well, ma'am, you've certainly added a twist to my day. Never thought I'd meet a pickpocket so......" he trails off, his eyes swept over you, a heat evident in the way his eyes drank your details, from head to toe before wetting his lips, "charming."

You stepped closer, the little space between you filled with an electric energy. "And I never though I'd such a handsome cowboy with keen instincts. Caught me fair and square." Billy's gaze softened, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"So, what's a charming lady like you doing in a place like this? There's gotta be more to the story." You sighed, as if revealing a secret. "Life's not always as pretty as it seems. Sometimes, a girl's gotta do what she can to get by."

His expression grew more serious, a subtle understanding passing between you. "We've all go out ways of surviving in this world." He sharply inhales, his hands resting on his hips. "Would you like somethin' to drink, ma'am?" He questions you with a subtle smirk on his lips as you bite your lip lightly, "Though you'd never ask," Billy cracks a smile.

[thesamoanqueen]

Beast

A/N: my lovely @harmshake asked me what the "beast mode" that journalists attribute to Roman is for me. I have a clear idea, because he has already talked about it, but I wanted to try something in a sort of headcanon/imagine, a type of fanfiction I hadn't tried yet here. [warnings: 18+ smut, jealousy, protective prompt}

Between the two of you, the one with the more visceral attitude was you and it was not surprising considering every woman is forced to fight for everything on a daily basis. Roman, not the Tribal Chief the crowds was used to, was a man it was simple to feel at ease, great listener, good manners and hypercritical mind on a personal level. He was a mama's boy, not because he was spoiled - even if it was true -, but in his ability to understand, give and care, qualities every man should have and which unfortunately were lacking in most boys. However there were moments, scenarios, in which he too gave in to the less soft side of himself and when he finally snapped, it was like facing a beast that had forgotten had been tamed.

#Jealousy

Your relationship was his top priority, his jealousy didn’t come from insecurity or doubts and for this reason perhaps it would have been more appropriate refer to it as territoriality, rather than jealousy. Seeing you admired, at work as much as in private life, filled him with satisfaction and pride, for him there was no pedestal too high for you. When admiration became something more though, that part of him less inclined or not at all to tolerate woke up in full force, pushing him to mark and protect what was his without worrying about anything else.

The overly insistent glances put him on alert, the whispered proposals in an effort to lure you away from him made his mouth twitch, but it was the attempts to invade your personal space that drove him crazy. He knew you were capable of taking care of yourself, he never stood by though and watched when some mr. nobody put a bad idea into practice and it didn't matter if there was too many drinks or an agreement between sides where it was necessary stay cordial to justify it. It was then that his hands found you, sliding along your back or pulling you by his side in an intimate touch to show he was the only one chosen for such a privilege. You would have recognized him just by the touch, even blindfolded, but it wasn't necessary because with his hands, all his presence came: solid body pressed close to reassure, shield you and intimidate anyone who thought could get over him and his voice, so soft, caring in your ears as he made sure you were okay and threatening to anyone unfortunate enough to deserve direct confrontation.

- "Back off" – the target almost never understood what was happening, staring in silence.

- "You heard me. Take a step back, two and three, all the way until you get back from wherever you came from. Or maybe you want a lil help, hm boy?"

The few who had tried to resist intimidation, even assert themselves, had regretted it the moment next, ending up in a match they could never have won and which they quit at the first serious grab as you said your prayers to bring Roman back to his senses.

#Dangers

As with jealousy, his patience reached the bottom even when you found yourself, as he said, in potential dangerous situations. Organizing and planning was part of your job duties, it wasn't often that something was beyond your control, but unexpected events happened on trips and was when plans changed that Roman didn't like it, especially if he wasn't physically there with you to deal with whatever what’s going on. A delayed flight at an inconvenient time, an impromptu hotel in an unsafe city triggered a chain reaction you most often tried to avoid, managing it without warning him or giving too many details. But Roman seemed to have a sense, reading between lines and then calls and messages began, to know where you were and what or why was happening, ending with an epochal argument on the phone when you finally confessed - even if in the end it was resolved all for the best -.

- "This isn't up for discussion! Im going to come between you and anything bad in your damn life! You should have told me!"

It wasn’t a mania, but real concern and the only reason why you put up with his outbursts. The idea in his mind of not being there when you could have needed him made his blood boil, see things more dramatic than expected. You had gotten into real problems years before, a few bad moments that had taught you a lot and for which he had jumped on the first available flight or in a car, forgetting to rest even after too many hours of work, consuming miles to even reach the other coast of the country. The beast that thundered, opening his mouth, going head-to-head against everything and everyone, turning everything and everyone upside down, had made you feel small then, but it had come to your rescue.

#Job

Comments didn't affect him, he had heard too many boos during his career to be impressed, but he channeled disappointment into his training and it was when he gave everything. For Roman it wasn't about preparing, it was about trying, testing his endurance, pushing himself for when the moment came. His returns had always been epochal events, changing the direction of the entire industry. His impact was unique because regardless of whatever people's opinions were out there, Roman had always left his mark for better or worse and he did it knowing he could. You supported him, assisted him as you could, but there was a part of you always worried it could have been too much and things could fall apart.

He had never really fallen though and if it had happened, his mindset had put Roman back on his feet immediately, proving to you over the years that nothing could really bring your man down even fighting the worst challenges. When the goal became clear in his mind, when he focused, there was nothing and no one that could push him down another path or make him change his mind. He was ready to crush any obstacle, overcome limits that he himself had previously drawn, see what others could not. Roman tenacity went beyond physical strength, it was mental, psychological, a terrifying confidence that brought out the part of him that made him so special. He didn't believe he could do anything, he knew he was capable of it and in one way or another Roman always found a way to do it, shaping himself and everything around him to realize his vision. Another species of man on another level of greatness.

- "Is perfect, take a break" – you tried to convince him and he nodded, but you saw it in his eyes even before you heard it.

- "One more time."

#Love

Sweaty body, heavy breathing, a man working hard to satisfy you.

You had your love adventures, but comparison with those who had been there before and Roman wasn't even a comparison. You had never felt so much love and lust in someone's arms, never had you felt so precious and fragile at the same time, like a flower pressed between the pages of a book, while he crushed you between the sheets. Sloppy kisses on your lips and delicate ones on your forehead, hands moving a lock of hair from your face and then sinking into the flesh of your thighs, turning you upside down as he pleased.

- "I'mma fuck my name in your head sweetheart, don't run, you ain't going nowhere" – promises that sounded like threats and made you tremble, a wave of pleasure washing over as you felt him go deeper – "you're stuck with me, quit it."

You whimpered, clinging to him like your life depended on it, shaking your head, begging, but Roman knew you better than you knew yourself and his grin always came right on time. When you felt like you were at your limit, he would increase the pace, pounding until he took air out of your lungs to kiss you and fill them with himself. Your body melted in his big hands, tears and sweet moods, climaxes following one another to the rhythm of your heartbeats and his brown eyes adoring and consuming you. Moans then became silent, pleasure intense to the point you couldn't feel anything else, you curled up giving in, abandoning yourself to his imperative desire to claim you. Only then did Roman slow down, bending you over, going beyond that sweet spot that he had tortured for the whole night, chasing his own pleasure this time and the perversion in his mind that made him go feral to fill you with his seed. Then he buried his face in your neck, between your breasts or behind your shoulder blades, hips pressed against your skin, nutting right into your soul and everything around you both fell silent to let the beast finally rest.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @alyyaanna @expert-texpert @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @joannasteez @reignsx @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @333creolelady @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @dreamsinfocus @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @smile1318 @headoftheetable @sortudademais @bookuce

[hitomisuzuya]

THIS HAS BEEN IN MY HEAD AS A THOUGHT ON LOOP FOR WEEKS

Scara being a horror attraction worker, you and your friends are walking around the attraction and you can’t help but feel like the pretty masked indigo haired boy is fallowing you and scaring you and your friends on purpose, getting a little to close as he comes up behind you and drags his fake knife down your neck. Or maybe when he whispers how good your doing at not screaming when he witnesses you jump a bit from a sudden scare

When you end up dragged away or lured by him don’t be surprised if he takes you right there and then <33

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Semi public sex. Fingersucking. Degradation. Reader is written as afraid of dolls because I am. Chucky the doll scares the shit out of me.

I love requests like this. 😳 Roma is all better now 😌

Scaramouche loves his job. He got to scare the snot out of people on a nightly basis. And he was good at it. If a scream count existed, Scaramouche had the highest count.

You had his attention almost immediately. You had a target on your back when several other people he worked with tried to scare you and your friend, but all they got was a slight quiver.

You were the type that had to incredibly caught off guard to get scared. He was all but licking his lips at the challenge. And he couldn't even begin to explain how aroused it made him feel.

Scaramouche hadn't been able to have this much fun in awhile because people were just so predictable. You sure were interesting though. He needed to know what made you tick.

He started with the usual, jumping at you from behind things. However, he seemed to get a little closer to each time. He wasn't relentless. At least not at first.

Scaramouche got little jumps or quivers here and there from you. That only made him more determined.

Never once did you scream.

He got an interesting sight at the part where you would have to go through a room with motion sensor dolls. Your eyes got really wide, shaking your head at your friend. "No, I can't. I'll meet you outside the door of the next room." You backed up a little, your face pale.

Scaramouche's eyes were glued to you. You even started to shake a little. He narrowed his eyes as he watched you. This just wouldn't do.

He couldn't have something else scare you. He has to be the one to do it. However, that didn't mean he couldn't use the situation to get your attention somehow.

Stepping out from around the corner, Scaramouche drug the blade of his fake along the wall as he walked by, locking eyes with you as he passed. His boss was going kill him for this one.

You thought his eyes cut right into your soul.

He walked into the room and promptly skewered one of the dolls with his knife. "Your in the way," He said, letting it drop to the ground. He pointed the blade of the fake knife at you. He was coming for you.

Little did you know in more ways in one.

And Scaramouche more than had your attention now.

He ramped up his efforts more than ever. Getting closer still. Until he got the closest of all. You didn't even see him coming. And truthfully, you started looking for him to come and scare you. You were starting to anticipate his scares, and when they didn't come like you expected, it threw you off.

That was just what he wanted. Because only then could he get this close to you. Like a hunter closing in on his prey. And you were the innocent little lamb.

You gasped startled. But you didn't scream. And that made him want you more. You shivered when he pressed the blade of fake knife against your throat. "What a good girl you are. You didn't even scream," God, he wanted to grind his twitching cock against your backside. Up this close to you he could smell how good you smelt.

It sent him reeling.

Scaramouche had to have you.

All of you.

Scaramouche set up a perfect lure for you. One that would send you right in his direction. He took the time to go back into the office and grab a big poster board. On it he wrote: One of you must go one way and the other another. Only one of you may come out on the other side to meet in the same place. Abandon hope all yee who take these separate paths.

Drawing a few ghosts and bats on the sign to make it seem like it had been part of the attraction the whole time, he hung it up outside near the wooded part of the attraction.

When you saw the sign, you looked at your friend. "I guess I'll see you soon," You kissed your friend on the cheek and headed down the path Scaramouche hoped you would.

If you hadn't, he still would've found a way to work it in his favor. You stopped, looking around when you saw no indication of which way you should go. Then you heard a familiar voice.

"Psht, come this way," Scaramouche said, curling his index finger at you in a come hither motion. A shiver went up his spine when you without hesitation walked towards him.

"It's you. Have you been following me? And what with that doll earlier?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Shrugging, Scaramouche suddenly looped his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush with his. "I had to get your attention. So I took away the threat. I couldn't think of a better way to do it."

He wanted you. And you, you wanted him to.

His breath fanned across your lips, hovering there for consent. However, his hands were already wandering along your body to test the waters.

Nodding, you tilted your head up and kissed him. He parted your lips with his tongue, finally getting taste you. It curled and glided with yours, guiding you backwards up against a tree.

Scaramouche's kiss stole the breath right from your lungs, his mouth swallowing your moan as he lifted you to pin you against the tree. You were melting into the kiss. Melting into him.

Pushing your skirt up, he groaned feeling how wet you were as his thumb found your clit, pressing a damp spot into the lacy fabric. You mewled into his mouth.

This boy, with his hypnotic eyes and dominating tongue were swallowing you whole. He chuckled at your reaction, biting at your lips as he pulled away. "Already so wet. What a little slut you are," He purred, shivering when you moaned loudly hearing his degradation.

Grinding needily against you, he batted your hands away impatiently when you tried unbuttoning his jeans. Bracing an arm around you, he peeled your panties off, wasting no tip pressing the head of his leaking cock against your clit.

You gasped in pleasure, grinding against it seeking the friction on your throbbing clit. He groaned from how hard his cock throbbed, stopping all motion for a moment just to tease you.

You wrapped your arms around him, tangling your fingers in his hair. His lips hungrily captured yours again, swallowing your gasp as he pushed his cock inside of you.

It felt just as felt as heavenly as he imagined, his cock stretching your walls apart as he bottomed out inside of you. "I'll help myself to making you scream now," He hissed, pulling out to the tip before abruptly thrusting into your cunt all at once.

Every thrust kissed deep into your sweet spot. If your legs weren't wrapped around him, your knees would've buckled. Putting his lips close to your ear, soaking in your cries of pleasure as they got louder, he said, "You are all mine now."

Your fingernails clawed into the back of his neck, making him shudder in bliss feeling the sting. "So loud," He grunted, his hips snapping into yours, "what a whore." He couldn't get enough of it.

Drinking in the haze of fucked out bliss clouding your eyes, he pressed you harder against the tree so he fuck his cock deeper inside of you. "Open your mouth, slut," He growled, pushing the tips of his fingers against your lips.

Scaramouche had beautiful fingers. You opened your mouth eagerly, your tongue curling around them as you sucked. Your cheeks flushed, eyes melting into a look of utter adoration as he pushed his fingers into your throat.

Moaning, you choked on his fingers. "Good girl, such subservience," He pumped his fingers in and out of your mouth, transfixed on the way drool pooled around them.

"So tight..fuck, I'm cumming," His thrusts turned sloppy, his cock ribboning cum inside of you. The warm feeling of him filling you full made you squirt all over his cock. He held you against him, cradling you as you trembled from your orgasm.

Scaramouche relentlessly fucked his cum inside of you, a white ring forming his cock. You clung to him, rocking your hips into his. He didn't stop until he was satisfied.

You mewled when he pulled out of you. Setting you down, you had to lean against him because your body felt limp from the intensity of your lovemaking.

"Your name? What's your name?" You asked, resting your forehead against his.

He nuzzled his forehead against yours. "Scaramouche," He scooped you up bridal style, and you didn't notice until he did that your panties were in his pocket. "Can't have any leaking out," He chuckled when he heard your shy squeak.

[the-californicationist]

they help you practice

Team 141/Reader - Gangbang TW: explicit consent given, polyamory, vaginal sex, anal sex, face-fucking, double penetration, spitting, come as lube, bulging, Ghoap sex, bukkake, degradation, orgasm control. Let me know if I missed one, I'm sorry. Proceed with caution, please.

You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate. 

“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”

You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded. 

Price continued,

“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into. 

“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”

A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,

“What kind of bait, sir?”

“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”

“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.

The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job. 

“Good. Let's brief the team.”

Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in. 

“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position. 

The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”

Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments. 

“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”

“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room. 

Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,

“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”

“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”

“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms. 

“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly. 

Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,

“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”

“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked. 

“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”

Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return. 

You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.

But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight. 

Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,

“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”

Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.

You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back. 

You smiled,

“Well, do I look the part?”

Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,

“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”

“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”

Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,

“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”

“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”

“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”

“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.

Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,

“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”

“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,

“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”

The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 

Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,

“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “...or down?”

The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it. 

“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone. 

The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,

“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”

You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you. 

Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,

“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin. 

Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath. 

“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”

“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.  

He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts. 

Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache. 

Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,

“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”

You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,

“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”

You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew. 

“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,

“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”

You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon. 

He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths. 

“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone. 

The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe. 

“You alright, babes?” He laughed.

You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner. 

Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly. 

“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.

He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you. 

You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, and his cock was as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match. 

Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning. 

You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs. 

Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time. 

Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,

“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slag, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”

He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face, 

“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”

You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you. 

“He’s not allowed to come inside of you yet, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”

Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act. 

Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain. 

“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded. 

You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide. 

He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons, 

“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”

You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate. 

“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”

He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion. 

“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.

Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched. 

Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core. 

Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,

“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”

Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole. 

“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”

Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,

“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here. Breathe with me, lass.”

He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done. 

It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in. 

Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.

You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own. 

He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,

“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”

“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.

Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,

“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”

He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony. 

As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”

“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.” 

Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out. 

Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,

“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”

He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again. 

“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price. 

“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”

“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been. 

Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant. 

They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,

“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”

“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.

“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”

“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”

“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you. 

He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again. 

You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,

“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”

Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation. 

“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”

“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”

“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added. 

Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange. 

Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.

“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval. 

“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”

The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise. 

Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,

“Missing your masked man already?”

You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,

“He’s a little…preoccupied.”

Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure. 

Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole. 

“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb. 

When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return. 

“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”

You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover. 

Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale. 

“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.

“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him. 

“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got  yourself a new permanent assignment.”

Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,

“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

AO3 Link

[rafesgoldrings]

Let Me Help

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x reader, Topper Thornton x reader, Kelce x reader

Warnings: potential season one spoilers??, light smut, oral sex (f receiving), blood, violence, guns, fighting, reader threatens to kill someone, suggestive ending, language, reader is a bitch

Summary: after hearing what JJ and Pope did to Topper, you decide to join in on the plan for revenge. Turns out you like seeing your boys get mean way more than you thought

A/N: since reader is said to be wearing a skirt, the outfit above is exactly the kind of outfit i pictured

Okay but imagine Rafe, Kelce, and Topper using you as bait for Pope and JJ after the boat thing. You’d all been best friends for years and while it was purely platonic, they couldn’t deny that you were easily the hottest girl on the island. So when they decide they’re going to jump them at the movies and you overhear, you step in with your own idea.

“Let me help” they all gave each other hesitant glances not wanting you to risk getting hurt. But you were stubborn and refused to accept no as an answer so they reluctantly agreed, all realizing that maybe this was actually a great idea.

JJ was easy to lure in. All you had to do was flash him a pearly smile while wearing a tiny little skirt and crop top and he was on his knees for you. Literally, on his knees eating you out in the bathroom before it got dark. If you were going to be involved, you at least wanted something out of it and JJ just so happened to be an expert with his tongue. He was so lost in your cunt that he didn’t notice the way you grabbed his bag and took the gun.

‘Stupid fucking pogue’ you’d think to yourself as your orgasm washed over you.

“That was great JJ, meet me behind the projector tonight and i’ll gladly return the favor” he nodded eagerly, standing up and giving you a sloppy kiss. You left the stall, making sure to sway your hips to really lay it in, and scanned the crowd for your next target.

Pope was a bit harder, you couldn’t lure him with sex because he was such a virginesque geek. So you had to actually use your brain and think of something that would be effective but not too obvious. You tried to remember all those times you’d overhear him at parties when suddenly it hit you, his weird fascination with becoming a coroner. Now this seemed like a weird route, but you happened to have an uncle that taught forensic pathology at the university and you could easily play it off like you were giving him a good word.

“Hey Pope” he’d walked up to the food stand to get some popcorn not noticing you at first.

He wasn’t exactly a fan of you, but he didn’t not like you either. He knew you were friends with the whole ‘death squad’ but also heard that you were incredibly sweet and crazy smart so how bad could you be?

“Oh, hey Y/N” the smile on his face was forced and you knew that, but you knew how to work your charm.

“I hear you’re wanting to go into forensic pathology, did you know I have an uncle that teaches that at the university? I could put in a good word for you if you wanted” your signature bright smile on display, head tilted slightly.

His eyes went wide when he finally understood what you said. This could be huge for him, he’d be crazy if he declined.

“Really? That would be great! Do you think there’s any way you could get me into contact with him?”

“Of course! Just meet me behind the projector tonight and we can swap contact info yeah? Don’t want anyone knowing i’m playing favorites” he quickly nodded, a large smile on his face. Sucker.

“Cool, see you around Pope” your hand brushing his arm as you gave him a flirtatious wink and walked away.

When you returned to your boys with the results, they each kissed your cheek. Kelce bowed down to you and the other two followed shortly after, the laugh you let out enamoring them completely. Now it was just a waiting game.

Nightfall shortly came, the movie playing on the screen not anything you’d cared about. The only thing you cared about was teaching those dirty pogues a lesson, and when you noticed JJ sneaking off from his friends you knew it was go time.

“Hey! Get ready boys, we’re about to have a real fun night” you hit Rafe on the shoulder before standing up, pulling your skirt down and ignoring the very obvious stares from the guys.

‘Typical’ you thought, rolling your eyes and walking towards the direction JJ went. But not before winking at Pope and signaling him to follow you, the others following behind unnoticed.

When you and Pope arrived behind the projector, JJ found it weird. He’d totally still get his dick sucked in front of Pope but like, why did you invite him there to watch? Unless you were just into shit like that, then he was all for it. Whatever got him that blowjob that was promised.

Pope was confused why JJ was there with a raging erection for a discussion about your uncle who’s a forensic pathology professor. That seems like a weird thing to be excited over, even for Pope.

But when Rafe, Topper, and Kelce surrounded them and you had a sick smile on your face, they understood they’d been set up. It was like vultures circling their pray, JJ immediately went for his bag to grab the gun and panicked when it wasn’t there.

“Looking for this?” you waved the gun in the air, your voice low and taunting.

Your boys looked proud that you managed to steal it while Pope and JJ were scared shitless. Pope, not thinking clearly, lunged for Topper which set off a chain reaction. Rafe was hitting JJ, Topper was hitting Pope, Kelce was going back and forth between the two trying to help whoever needed it. You just stood back watching in satisfaction. That was until Kie decided to join in, jumping on Toppers back and punching him to try and get him off Pope. Rafe grabbed her and threw her to the ground, you tried pushing that feeling of jealousy down but it was far too intense to do so.

“Reach for that lighter and I promise you i’ll kill you Kiara. Don’t fucking test me” Kie froze at the feeling of cold metal being held agaisnt her temple and she knew it was a gun.

She slowly stood and backed away from the bag having no choice but to watch her friends get beaten. Pope was in a chokehold, Rafe and Kelce were holding JJ back and landing blow after blow to his stomach. It wasn’t until Pope was nearly unconscious that you decided to stop it.

“Okay boys, we’ve had our fun. Can't exactly kill him here at least, let’s go home. I’m bored” an exaggerated yawn filling the air.

They let go of them and walked over to you, blood on their faces and knuckles from the punches, and the four of you walked to Topper's jeep. There was a silence that fell over you when you’d gotten in, not necessarily an awkward one, but also not very comfortable. It wasn’t until you spoke that the tension was broken.

“That. Was. So. Fucking. Hot. Oh my god i’m so turned on right now” they looked at you in shock, you were never this bold in any scenario.

“You’re so fucked up Y/N. Such fucked up little whore.” Rafe was the first to speak, turning to face you with a smirk on his face.

“You like that? Like seeing us beat the shit out of those dirty pogue pretty girl?” Kelce was the next to speak, turning around in the passenger seat to look at you more clearly.

“Didn’t know our innocent girl was so dark, how should we take care of that baby?” Topper looked at you in the rear view mirror, noticing how at some point in between then responding, you’d taken your panties off.

“How about each of you take turns with me? Show me what else those hands can do?” you had such an innocent look on your face and that mixed with your pouty lips, the sweet scent of your perfume, and your glistening cunt in the moonlight drove them crazy.

“Oh that can be arranged princess” Rafe growled, the others humming in agreement before Topper started the car and sped home.

This was going to be a very long and fun night for the four of you.

[thebluester2020]

[WuWa] Kinktober Day 7: "Hatefucking"

Summary: You hate everything about Scar! The fact he's clearly evil aside...you hate his stupid charming voice, his stupid voice, the fact he's taller than you...long lithe fingers you'd like to see fingering your—okay, you may have a bit of a crush on him.

Warning(s): Dub-Con, Fingering, Porn With Plot, Outside Sex (Reader + Scar fuck in an abandoned town), Name-calling, Rough Sex.

Side Note(s): Funny how this is coming out on the day that I have a test. I put all my frustration into this one 💀

(Sorry for the lateness, exam day meant that this was gonna come out later rather than sooner 😔)

You've been in a strange 'situationship' lately.

To be frank, you already felt like you were a traitor to everyone who had put their faith in you, being in such a tumultuous relationship with a member of Fractisidus. But it wasn't your fault, you felt! It was originally supposed to be one a one-time only, a way of getting rid of the obvious sexual tension that was threatening to boil over the pot.

And it all started so simply at first!

One day, you had just finished slaying a horde of Tacet Discords as a small commission, a simple job just to put some extra money in your pocket. And then...he came.

. . .

"Ah! Y/N, fancy seeing you out here." A familiar voice called out to you. A charming sound yet with a subtle undertone of slyness, like a fox closing in on its prey, tricking and luring its target into trusting it.

You wouldn't be so easily fooled.

"Scar," You greeted with an annoyed exhale. "Going to try to convince me to join your organization again? The answer is still no." You said with venom in your voice. After only battling him a few months ago, you were shocked at the audacity he had to walk up to you so brazenly! As if you weren't a second away from taking out your weapon and attempting to cut his head from his shoulders. Despite this, however, Scar continued to come up to you with a certain...look in his eyes.

What was his goal this time?

"Don't dismiss me so coldly Y/N..." He said, your eyes following him like a hawk until he eventually stood right in front of you with no regard for your personal space.

You immediately surveyed the area around you, did he have friends with him this time? In such an open field, he had the advantage if he was aiming to kill you this time...

"I simply wanted to hang out with you!"

"Hang out?" You scoffed. "You nearly tried to kill me last time we met you damn freak." You spat, your hand coming to rest on the hilt of your sword.

His eyes quickly caught it before he smirked. "Oh...don't tell me you hold onto grudges, last time I was just...teasing you! My organization really wants you in our ranks, there's still time to join."

"No chance."

"Ah...you'll join us one day Y/N." He sighed before turning on his heels. "This time though—" He turned around, casually placing his hands in his pockets before his attention then turned to the Tacet Discord you had just recently killed. "—I offer you something more...personal. A moment for us to get to know each other outside of battle."

Your brow rose at the offer. "What's your angle?"

"No angle, to show you that our organization isn't what you may think it is. We should take some time together."

Before you opened your mouth to immediately decline, you took a moment to truly think about it. You were still searching for the origins of your past, answers as to who you truly were, and still...you kept coming up with empty answer after empty answer. In the back of your head, you suspected that you would probably have to resort to other methods in order to get the results that you wanted but...so soon? And with a guy like Scar? He was unhinged, crazy was putting it way too lightly and he nearly killed you! You escaped with just the skin on your teeth and a whole lot of scars and bruises on your body.

But...Fractsidus seemed to have a lot of information on you.

More than other people seemed to.

Maybe...maybe this was the right decision.

"Fine," You eventually said.

Scar couldn't help the immediate grin that crept onto his features as he turned back to face you, his hands still in his pockets. "But if you pull anything, I'll kill you. I swear it."

He chuckled. "We'll see about that."

. . .

And the rest was history.

The spot the two of you would meet up at would be the same every single time. The abandoned town where you and Scar first met and he told you the story of the black lamb and the shepherd. Admittedly, when you first went, you constantly thought that those meet-ups would be your last. When you'd appear around a corner, he'd always respond with a grin that you failed to decipher whether or not it was genuine or if it was hiding a darker intention.

You would spend hours talking, nothing of Fractisidus or your search for your origins and who you truly were! Simply life, your friends and the likes. It was...comfortable, something that you knew you shouldn't have felt around the man but you just couldn't help it! Spending so much time searching, moving around and having exciting things happen to you day after day, it became tiring.

Suddenly you found yourself yearning for the time when Scar would suddenly appear to you from an alleyway or when you were by yourself, offering out of the blue if you would like to hang out with him once more.

And all too eagerly? You'd agree.

And with such eagerness...it wasn't your fault that you hadn't noticed that he was leading you into a trap of desire! All until it was far too late—

"Y-You disgusting scumbag..." You hissed to Scar as you were currently pressed up against one of the buildings in the abandoned town. Your chest was heaving as you struggled to keep a sense of your surroundings, the feeling of the white-haired man's slender fingers fiercely plunging themselves into your cunt making your knees buckle underneath you and your head become foggier and foggier with pleasure.

Scar moaned at your insult, parting his head from the crook of your neck to look you in the eyes with a smirk. "Aw..." He cooed. "Still calling me names, Y/N? How long will it take before you start saying nicer things to me~?" A sharp gasp escaped your lips when Scar suddenly pressed his lips against your own, his tongue prodding at your lips for entrance. When he gently nibbled down on your bottom lip, you unintentionally moaned, allowing him enough room to slide hi tongue into your mouth before he felt around.

"Sweet..." He moaned against your lips, his fingers speeding up in the process before you felt him start to rub himself against your front.

You shuddered at the idea of such a large thing being inside of you...wait. "G-Gross!" You hissed as you suddenly pushed his shoulders, too weak to actually get him off of you but strong enough to make him pause in his actions and take his lips off of yours. He crudely licked his lips with a hungry smirk. "Oh don't fight me like I'm some villain Y/N...you want this as much as I do. Don't think I've missed the way you've looked at me over the last couple of weeks."

A fierce blush rose to your cheeks. "You're so delusional..."

He laughed. "Am I?"

As if to remind you, he curled his fingers up inside of you, his knuckles rubbing along a spot inside your inner walls that made your toes curl and your eyes threaten to roll back inside of your head. Scar lewdly moaned at the sound of your squelching pussy, his eyes steadily trailing down from your gaze and to your soaked pussy, your slick starting to roll down your thighs.

Scar laughed mockingly. "Dirty...it's like you're nearly wetting yourself under this cute skirt of yours~"

"F-Fuck you..."

"Oh I plan to," He placed another kiss on your lips. "And I'm soooo certain that you'll enjoy it Y/N~"

. . .

"S-Scar—!" You practically screamed out as Scar fucked you while you were pressed against a building. His fingers dug into your waist as he pulled your ass back to his pelvis, creating a lewd symphony of skin slapping against skin as your lover's groans threatened to be heard all the way back to Jinzhou. Your red-eyed lover's eyes were entranced by your ass squishing repeatedly against him as he fucked you like a common whore.

He had been wanting you like this against him since the day he spotted you.

And his need for you only increased when you had beat him in your fight against him. The sight of determination in your eyes—the sheer hatred you had for him, it had him rock-hard in his pants.

The nights he fisted his dick at the thought of you with that same look in your eyes quickly grew unbearable, it was the reason why he approached you outside of the orders of his organization in the first place! And although he wanted you to look at him with that same vitriol in your eyes, as if you wanted to kill him...the reward of making you a cock-drunk slut on his cock?

He figured he could get used to this as well.

"Fuck...! W-Why is your dick so big—!?" You gasped as your hand flew to wrap around his wrist, both trying to pull him closer to your body while simultaneously trying to push him away. "Fucking... v-villain..." You continued, your words constantly interrupted by your moans much to Scar's amusement.

"Why's your cute pussy so tight?" He licked his lips as he suddenly pulled his dick out of your cunt until he was nearly all the way out.

He reveled in the way your moans suddenly died down, being replaced by gasps and whines of confusion before your head turned in search of him. "Why...why did you stop—" Your words were once again interrupted, replaced by a shrill keen as Scar suddenly plunged himself back into your needy cunt once more. A series of cocky laughter tumbled out from his lips as he started to curl over your body, feeling his orgasm begin to creep up on him.

"So fucking cute Y/N..." He whispered in your ear, lightly nipping on the shell of your ear, causing you to suck your lower lip into your mouth as your pussy clenched around Scar's dick. "Maybe this'll get you to join Fractsidus?" He continued to whisper lowly in your ear, his rough and harsh pace beginning slower and harder as he rolled into your cunt.

You moaned at the slower pace, his cock pressing threatening to press against your cervix as you turned your head to look back at him through blurry eyes. "I-In your dreams..." You tried to retain some sense of dignity, trying not to give in to your enemy any more than you already have.

"My dreams seem to be coming true then~" He moaned. "After all, I have you right where I want you, don't I?" Before you could respond, Scar's hand moved to roughly rub your clit, the sudden increase in pleasure practically tearing your orgasm out from your body as you wailed out in bliss. And those wails and moans of your enjoyment were the final push Scar needed before he pressed himself against you with a whispered 'Fuck'. The warmth that flooded your insides making you sigh in bliss as you hung onto cloud nine for a few seconds more before you started to come down slowly.

Your enemy was more dangerous than you previously thought.

How was his dick so addicting?!

And even more...why were you already thinking of when to come back to him for more?

[alphajocklover]

What an incredible store you have here! It feels so much bigger from the inside. I never would have guessed you had this much jewelry and trinkets inside! I’m surprised you don’t have some sort of extra security with this much in here, haha. I mean, I get that a 40-something engineer isn’t much of a threat, but…

Hey, why are you looking at me like that? And what do you have in your hand? It looks like… feels like… OooooOOOHHH…!

So in my recent post, the one where I updated you all on my Uncle John, I may have mentioned that I have some… friends who work for EB Jewelry and have been leaking me information. This was… definitely a mistake. A huge mistake. I was so wrapped up in everything that's been happening with my Uncle I forgot one of the basic rules of journalism: protect your sources. It was an amateur move that might have put my friend at risk, and I’ve been feeling guilty about it ever since. They said they don’t mind, but… I’m still worried for them. I even tried to convince them to leave before they get caught, but… they’re insisting on continuing. I should have expected it, since they’ve always been stubborn like that, but if anything happens to them because of me, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.

That got kind of dark, so let's get on to the good news. Instead of doing the rational thing and laying low like I suggested, my friend has actually become more reckless. I was incredibly against this, for obvious reasons, but as much as I hate to admit it, it’s actually really paid off. They’ve been diving deeper into the companies files, and have gotten me more information in the last few days than they have in the last three weeks! It’s taking a while to get through everything they sent me, but from what I’ve already seen it’s very revealing. So far one of the most interesting things they sent me was a full video of a recent transformation. Usually the transformations caused by EB Jewelry’s products are slower, but this one was… odd. It started off pretty normal, at least as normal as anything can be in the world of transformations. A forty-something engineer was drawn into one of the larger EB Jewelry locations. Larger on the inside apparently, according to the small amount of audio that was clear in the video. I guess magic is a good way to increase your square footage without having to expand to another location. Anyways, from what I can tell this guy was specifically being targeted by EB Jewelry, since they usually only change people immediately if they need them out of the way. I don’t know why a huge company like EB Jewelry would target a (now former) 40 year old engineer and father of two, but my best guess is that he saw something he shouldn’t have. Whatever the reason, they lured him into the store using the same magic they always do… and let their product do what they always do.

When I talk about EB Jewelry I talk about their fancier products, their watches and their cufflinks, but they have a much bigger variety than that. In this case, it looks like our engineer found some ear gauges. Powerful ones at that. He didn’t need to even put them in to be transformed. The second he touched them, the years faded away, his gut disappeared, and lean muscle packed itself onto his body. In seconds the overweight middle aged man was turned into a hot fuckboy stud, one with no memory of his old life and only one thing on his mind: finding someone to fuck. Don’t worry though, he’ll have a job as a model for EB Jewelry waiting for him when his latest one night stand is over. EB Jewelry isn’t (entirely) cruel though, they turned his two sons into two bros that he can hang out with!

It’s sorry to say it's probably too late for the engineer, and his former sons. EB Jewelry has powerful magic, and even if someone could turn him back, they’d probably find another way to deal with him. I just hope my friend is careful. EB Jewelry has magic and capitalism, which is a really bad combination.

**hey there! Used a pic of one of my inspirations @bgdk98 . Absolutely awesome and sexy guy. Hope you liked this story!**

[brucewaynehater101]

I saw someone bring up the fact that Tim has been assaulted before and it reminded me of a very old au I came up with about something similar. Trigger warning for mentions of Sexual Assault, Drugging, and Murder. This is also partly inspired by the movie Jennifer's Body.

Tim has been assaulted by Ras sister, likely Ras as well, and there are a few villians that I remember who don't Assault him but they definitely are *looking*. Plus Tim is a very pretty person, isn't he? Who knows how many people Leer at him all the time, say things that they really shouldn't to "flirt" with him and well. This is Gothem. I wouldn't be all to surprised if someone as pretty as him ended up with something in his drink if he went to a bar.

I'm going to skip over what happens at the house party that Tim goes to (he was invited by his friends and it was just supposed to be a bunch of drunk high school students. It should have been fine, right?) But when he wakes up the next morning, he is sore all over in a way he doesn't like and only remembers horrible flashes of the night before. He's hung over and still a little dizzy from the drugs so he doesn't notice the person next to him until his chin is grabbed. He doesn't know this guy, he doesn't know where he is, but the guy is moving in to kiss him and Tim's hand wraps around something and in the next blink the guy is off him and Tim feels something wet dripping down his face. When did he stand up? The guy is crumbled on the bed which is turning red and there is a broken lamp in his hand.

Tim knows Bruce would never forgive him for this, he just *killed* someone. Sure he's coming down from some drugs and the guy assaulted him and was about to again, but Tim *killed* him. It doesn't matter that he blacked out. It doesn't matter that others in the family have killed multiple people and Bruce just shrugged it off. Tim is supposed to be better and he fucked it all up.

It takes a while for Tim to come to a decision. He's already fucked up, nothing can change that. But he also can't dig any deeper, right? After all, this guy wasn't the only one who assaulted him that night. And Tim wants revenge on all of them. So he makes a list of all the guys who hurt him that night and slowly makes his way through them, luring them somewhere secluded, acting like he's going to let them between his legs again, before killing them and hiding the bodies. After all, he's a Bat. If he doesn't want anyone to know it was him, they won't.

The kills feel good, they make him feel better about what happened to him. It puts the power over his body back in his own hands. But there is still a hollow in his chest, a void that only temporarily feels better. The nightmares don't stop after they're all gone. Better yes, but not gone. So therefore, more kills should do it, right? But he can't kill just anyone. He can only kill those who deserve it. So Tim goes to Bars in disguise and pretends to be a very drunk and pretty girl who gets picked up by people. He waits until they are in the target's home or a hotel before telling them that he's to drunk to do this, that he doesn't want it anymore, and that he just wants to sleep. If the person backs off, they can go free. If they continue after three tries to stop them, then Tim will dig his knife into their neck and kill them. Every single one, he writes their crimes on the wall in their own blood.

Tim thinks he's helping not just himself but everyone else who's ever been in his position. The Bats think there's a new serial killer on the loose. Neither side is truly wrong. The Bats are also pulling out their hair about being unable to find *anything* beyond some security footage of the victim leaving a bar with a woman who looks different everytime. Sometimes a blonde, sometimes Brunette, sometimes red head. They use colored contacts and make up to change their face shape just enough that they never look the same.

It's many kills later when Bruce manages to catch Tim in the act. He wasn't even looking for the killer, he just heard a scream while patrolling and ran to investigate. He found a woman kneeling over a dying man, stabbing him while saying, "I told you not to touch me! I told you to *stop*!" In a voice he knows very well.

Here's where a split can happen. Is this a good dad Bruce who will stop his son and help him, or is this a very bad Bruce who will simply resolve to send Tim to Arkham for being a serial killer without thinking of the potential consequences? I mean. If he does the latter, there's a sold chance that when people find out why The Timothy Drake, CEO of WE was put in Arkham (Tim will freely tell the press he did it and why because he is Very Mentally Fucked at this point) there is a solid chance of people thinking Tim was caught because he targeting Batman and Batman failed his test.

In case anyone didn't read the first part, TW: sa, murder, nonconsensual drugging

Unfortunately, I do imagine that Tim, other Waynes, and other heroes have been subjected to this. Considering how public two of Tim's personas are, there's probably been some shit online as well.

I thank the gods that Barbara exists, and I despair the types of messages she has to read/sift through for her family's safety. I like to imagine she sends information out to various people depending on the shit people say or do online (and whether there is evidence they might do anything offline). She probably has automatic systems, but she has to be the one to read when certain messages get pinged (one off messages probably get automatically dealt with, but multiple get put on a radar/list).

To be completely frank, the US's system is shit for sa survivors trying to get safety or justice. I'm not gonna argue with anyone about that, so go look at stats if you want.

So, seeing a character work outside of the law to ensure others' safety and enact justice? It's nice. I'd also be down for Tim (in various identities) utilizing a method like the movie "Promising Young Woman (2020)."

I would like to see Tim and Jason interacting within this AU after Jason finds out (particularly if RH has policies against sa and actively mitigates such). Dick would be particularly devastating to through in the mix (I'm talking him keeping it together enough to soothe Tim to sleep with hair pats and then escaping to violently throw up and sob).

There are a few fics of Jason brutally murdering or maiming sex offenders if that's anyone's cup of tea.

You mentioned that Tim might be mentally fucked by the time he gets caught. I think he probably would. Not for the murders, but for never actually addressing what happened to him. He's just repressing the shit out of it and trying to cope with murder (this isn't a good coping mechanism).

Now... Bruce being a bad dad by throwing Tim im jail could be cool and interesting in this. However, Bruce blaming himself for failing Tim, for allowing Tim to become the way he is, and for not helping Tim sooner is spicy. Just Bruce making Tim's situation about Bruce, trying to fix Tim, and condemning Tim for his actions (by locking Tim in the batcave like a family embarrassment instead of jail) would be excellent bad dad Bruce. Bruce parading himself as a good dad while mentally fucking Tim up worse.

[generalissimomayhem]

TNMN tier list!

The Nightmares Edition: Do they hate humans?

Explanations under the cut:

Would like to see humanity crumble to dust in the palm of their hands

Shub Niggurath and Xezbet Xerbeth: Is nothing personal, they would say. But if humanity disappeared tomorrow they would celebrate. Big time. You know what they said: The best moment was in the past and the second best one is TODAY. Mind you, according to Shub, she feels that Xezbet doesn't even try to work towards his goal because he thinks he already won.

Would like to see humans in agonizing pain

Abducius Morail and Teutates Taranis: Between the two, Teutates is certainly the most merciful, he kills quick and he kills en masse. Abducius on the other hand, likes to take his time and make sure people FEEL something. Basically, quality vs quantity.

Wouldn't kill (Unless they want to)

Exael Lanithro, Yan Luo Wang Diyu and Ah Puch Xilbalbá: Exael can certainly be... an experience, he always reassures to his victims that whatever he does is purely professional; when he's not torturing humans, you can hear his thoughts echo throughout the torture chamber, they can either be calming and interesting or the most disturbing shit you have ever heard. Only kills when he is bored with his victims, but he's usually quick with that one. Yan Luo is the same as Exael, whatever she does is purely professional, she doesn't meddle feelings, or at least she tries to; because there have been people in which she has taken their lives away from them because they had provoked her wrath. Ah Puch as being as rowdy and uncontrolled as he is, to him, what matters most in the art of bone breaking is who actually deserves it, which to him is most everyone tbh; with some people a broken arm is enough punishment while others need to have their skulls smashed.

Neutral

Anazareth Anazarel, Chaugnar Faugn, Drugia Fleuretty, Izanami Yomi: Anazareth honestly couldn't care less about humans, but she does act like she's above them. Chaugnar holds nothing against humans, but his job goes above everything and his word is sacred. Drugia, more than evil, she's naughty, she just loves to mess with people, she doesn't hate anybody but to her, free entertainment is more important. Izanami is very lax and only targets certain people, if you aren't in her radar of victims, she simply doesn't give a shit about you.

Have some relation with humans

Quachil Uttaus, Yog Sothoth: Quachil is often the one that observes from afar but that doesn't mean she has never come in contact with the human realm, she's multidimensional and somewhat omnipresent after all. With that being said, she acts more vigilante than anything, and brings misfortune to anybody that she deems fit, yes, even people who have been previously spared from it. Yog has had the tendency to follow Barbatos around in his huntings and Barbatos, as to "make this guy useful for once" often uses him as bait to lure humans towards him. When he's not "working" with Barbatos, he often goes around terrorizing random people (kinda like Drugia) but when he needs to eat, he holds no barrens.

Interested in human life

Ishtar Ereskigal, Lilith Lilitu Lilit, Barbatos Barrabam: Ishtar is quite knowledgeable in human history and has extensively studied great historical plagues along the years; she knows where to hit humans. Lilith, being an undead and having previously lived among humans, she knows how do deal with them, what scares them what they like and how to approach them. Barbatos is pretty close to humans, as his job so dictates, so he had his fair share of experiences with humans; but he would be lying if he said that he has never given second chances to humans or listened and participated in their conversations.

LOVES Humans

Dagda Crom Cruach and Zoth Ommog: Dagda tends to hang around a lot in farm houses, the taller the grass/wheat/corn fireld, the better. He likes to see humans living their lives, even after being born from tragedy. Of course, he doesn't let himself get caught by people, the few times he has gotten caught, he terrifies everyone with no exception. Zoth is uuuuuuhhhhhhhhh... he likes humans, he thinks they are all just a bunch of funky little dudes and stuff. If you wanted to join and assist in any of his rituals, he would gladly let you participate (even if you were one of the preparations for the rituals); other than that, if he REALLY likes you, you might get extra priviledges around the Astral Circle or he might give you the praying mantis treatment, whatever he feels like doing.

Oscillates between two or more

Nyogtha Z'mog and Orcus Dis Pater: Their stories can't get more complicated™. Nyogtha being the victim of a particularily gruesome death when she was a human and after she was revived through very unethical methods, she was initially on the very top tier and was helbent on having humans die for once and for all. Eventually, the more she dealt with human graves, the more she was able to see herself in some of their deaths and helped her regain some humanity. With time, her hatred died down and is now more neutral towards humans. Orcus bears a really fluctuated view on humans, he switches from absolute undridled hatred to infautation on a whim, nobody is sure onto why he suffers from such changes, Chaugnar has speculated something regarding a past life but nobody knows for sure. Most of the the time he can be found in the "Have some relation with humans" tier.