#proceeds to say just so much in the tags

[krystaldeath]

Haha I’ve got. Too many ausssss

But I did think up a new modern one. That follows the og video game plot a bit but Narinder was trapped for 10,000 years and instead of commuting a sheep genocide the bishops make all sheep have to prove every month that they’re not worshiping The One Who Waits and have no intention to free him

[iamhereinthebg]

Let's talk about the clock keepers boundary!

(warning: spoilers until chapter 124!!)

I've had some guess on where they could be from so let's look at what we have in the manga for now. I will keep things on surface level for the most part but it's just some things I noticed!

The first mention of the town is in chapter 111, where we finally have a view on their boundary.

A lot of fans already guessed from their clothes that they were not from Japan, this panel definitely confirms it and even points more precizely to a European country, mostly Western Europe. And also a country where Winter with snow exist.

It's also not an English speaking country, since Akane cannot understand the language and we know he has english classes at school.

Now there are several things we can look at to have more clues!

First, the architecture.

This type of house is called Timbered framed houses. It’s important to note that the roofs on those houses are really really sharp here. Which means theywere built for snow, so it can slide off the roofs more easily. The trees are also pines, something that can be found in a lot of Europe. (wood was needed to be able to create houses made of wood/with visible Framework( Little note: I know Italy was a guess for a lot of person because of the link to Pinocchio, but Italy main material for houses is stone not wood. And it is also not known for its winter.)

Here we can also see bricks which is something more associated to countries like Germany, Belgium or the Nertherlands, we don't have the colors so we can't guess from which minerals it was made for now.

But we have even more informations when we look at chapter 124!

The bridge and tower may be inspired by a fortified city, something that you could find A LOT in Western Europe during the middle age, not a lot of cities still have their entire walls but you can still see it if you go into old medieval towns. We can also see something that looks like a Belfry on several panels. Towers used mostly to indicate each passing hour of the day (may be a campanile or a bell tower (the difference is wether it's linked to religion or not basically)

Second! Let's do a little bit of clock making history!

I won't go into details, but there are some countries to point for this. England, The Netherlands and Germany. We already took out England before and we can easily erase Nertherlands from the list with the next step (my favorite one).

The food! I already had my suspicions confirmed with this bonus art from volume 22.

First of all, they have tea which is not something that was in Europe before the XVII century. But let's look at the sweets they have here.

Chocolates which look close to Belgian chocolate ( I say Belgian but other countries' chocolate is pretty close to it) , Christstollen Cake, and Spiztbuden.

We have even more to look at with the new chapter! And they confirm that it's indeed a stollen cake.

With all these foods it's now pretty obvious which area the clock keepers are inspired from.

Stollen cakes are German cakes, ginger cookies are from Germany too. I will also add that there is a chance the crescent moon cookies are VanilleKipferl. We have another panel showing Sausages and bread. Only the Almond is something not typical from Germany but which clearly was all over Western Europe with trades.

Their city already looked like the 'perfect christmas city' you can see in movies, inspired by German culture. And they also mention Mulled Wine which is THE beverage to take in any chritmas market in Europe.

Chritmas markets are inspired and coming from Germany first, but I wanna point something more.

My main guess was, Nuremberg, the city where the ancestor of the pocket watch was created, the Nuremberg Egg. It's also a Fortified city and it has forests around it. It's also known for its Ginger cookies!

So Germany would be a great pic, but the more I think about it the more I can also see the link to another region: Alsace.

Alsace is a region from France right now BUT it's a mixt of german and french culture (I will not make a history lesson but it is a place that always switched between France and Germany basically, now it's French).

All the food mentionned before are also made in the Alsace region!

It's situated in the Vosges, a chain of mountains known to have a lot of forets of pines and which is known to have villages like this:

Which were also the main inspirations for movies like Howl's moving castle for example. You can see the similarities between the artchitectures

The first ever Chritmas Market was in Strasbourg, the capital of Alsace, when it was German and it spread accross Europe after.

I will now look at something I usually don't do because I exclude Aus from canon but it's just a funny thing to point out.

This au shows a snow town inspired by ginger bread houses. I just find it funny because Aoi is shown as a baker, with bread (which are not baguette I think, it's way larger here) but with some croissant on her table (disclaimer: Croissant are not french at first, this form here is, but it's from Austria otherwise) And Kako clearly has something similar to a Wine bottle in his hands. This au is the only one featuring them, was given with their volumes and the vibes are really similar to their boundary.

I would say no matter what it's definitely closer to German culture but I wanted to point out this region which is known for it's Christmas season and its typical houses.

I will mostly say that it's an inspiration from this region of Europe, I don't know if a real country is the reference for it since we don't even know where tbhk takes place, but it's always funny to look at those things :DD

Little bonus:

In a more messy note, the clothes. I put them at the end because besides their hats, I had no idea how to describe it, since it seems pretty typical of what people could wear in winter.

I did the research in the other way, to look for German and Alsacian clothing to see if it match and it kinda does but I don't think it's speficific to this region. The girls wear classic white Charlotte and big clothes with layers for Winter.

The clock keepers clothes are different, it looks like a mixt of Japanese and western European clothing (especially from england).

Their main outfits for Akane and Kako really just look like a typical waistcoast/costume you can find in the XIXth century in Europe and Mirai's seems more inspired by a mixt of a Kimono with several layers(she also has sandals and frills) and a coat? The little knots Kako and Akane have on their coats look like something inspired from Mizuhiki knots too (I actually saw a costume with those exact same knots in a museum but I didn't take a picture rip)

So I would say they probably changed slowly their attire when they arrived in Japan, we don't know since how many times they are here, but we know that what is happening in the deeper place of the boundary is linked to memories previous to their arrival. According to their origin I think we can say that it's pretty sure they arrived after the Meiji/during the Meiji Era in Japan (1868/1912), since it's a this time Japan mostly imported Western culture (for clothing here, the first contact was before this. And note: it was mostly rich people who dressed like this). And If we look at some others dates like the things they are eating, used to have or even their clothes, I would say it's more probably the Meiji Era and not in the XVs.

Another note is that their clocks have the numbers written in japanese on it (in the og version but it maye just be so it's readable for the japanese readers? idk if it's a choice or not).

I haven't searched much on their clothes but it was still something I wanted to note here ^^

[morteisshipping]

"Is this because of Crescent Moon?" [...] "It would put anyone in a terrible mood." [...] Holding my gaze for a moment, Sung Hyunjae took an item out of his inventory. Long fingers put the sound-blocking item on the table with a tap. "Are you worried about me?" "Worried? What's there to worry about when it's you? I'm just-" I stopped talking and closed my mouth. "...Yes. I'm worried." To be honest. [...] "I should thank you." "Ah, what for? I've already received what I was to receive. Besides, for me, it's not just you, but everyone around me. I don't want to lose you." [...] "It's true that the past I don't know of is bothering me, but..." Golden eyes looked up at me. "What I'm concerned about now is another part." Hmm? What else is there? "What is it?" He didn't return an answer. What came out after a moment's silence was something completely unexpected, "Wouldn't it be better for you to get some rest?" "I rested without doing anything in particular, both in the dungeon and since we've gotten out." I'm just talking. I was a little sleepy but I feel fine for now. "Don't change the subject, please." Sung Hyunjae's brow furrowed slightly. His expression seemed - how to say it - troubled. I was even more curious about what it was. Was it something he didn't want to talk about? Why? I thought he didn't care about other's thoughts. Ah... could it be? "Is it because I showed a weak side of myself?" [...] He cared about me anyways. As ever. Otherwise, he would've said so out loud. "From the start, I was and will continue to be imperfect but you know that. So if you have anything to say, just say it. I won't be able to fall apart any further at this point and I think I could accept whatever it is that you have to say." "For some reason..." "Yes?" "I want to lay bare what's inside you. Everything down to the depths of you."

chapter 282-283: Burning's Also Neat

[majorbaby]

Interview with Larry Gelbart on Charlie Rose, 1998

[fatelcved]

IMAGES OF CHIYOKO HISAKAWA : 1 of ???

once gaining steady income as a mangaka, chiyoko seriously contemplates a more elaborate tattoo; rather than the cute little images she's imagined here and there, she wants something truly stunning to look at. the idea strikes her one morning after managing to spill paint all over her favorite pair of shorts, a deep green running over the blue material and down her calves. wouldn't it be pretty to paint her skin much like a canvas? chiyo eventually settled on a design that looks similar to watercolor, and though the visuals above lack much color, chiyo's tattoos are deep blues, purples, and reds that fade into each other, similar to what you see in these images here ( nudity warning, though nothing explicit ). the shading would most resemble the bottom right image, filling empty space with shadow or colored gradient. her tattoo curls along her right arm, across her chest, and down the left side of her waist, hip, and leg ( as depicted in the bottom left image ). getting to this point has, of course, taken quite a bit of time, especially as chiyo had to grow comfortable enough with her tattoo artist to allow them near parts of her body that are typically concealed. the whole thing has cost her a lot of money and tears, but she's pretty proud of the art she and her tattooist created. she plans to keep adding to it in the future.

[pokimoko]

5, 10, 20, and 25 for fic in review ask thing!!!

5. What ships captured your heart?

I am a gen writer through and through, so it's a very rare thing to see me writing a ship-focused fic. That said, I really enjoyed the pairing of Karlach and Astarion this year, though I wouldn't say I shipped them necessarily in a romantic sense. The fic I wrote that had them together had their relationship tagged '(it's fairly ambigious; is it romantic? queerplatonic? platonic? yes), (the love and devotion is there regardless)' which I think basically sums up how I view them (and also how aromantic I am about shipping 😅).

I also liked Billford, but in a strictly 'oh yeah they're super divorced, they are never getting back together' kind of way. Not sure if that counts as shipping, but hey, it's definitely counts as something.

10. What fic was the most satisfying to write?

I would have to say either 'The Poetics of Space' (Gravity Falls) or 'On Waxen Wings We Soar, In Spite of Inevitable Ends' (Baldur's Gate 3). They were the two fics I was the most happiest with this year, not only regarding the quality of the writing itself and the themes they explored (the constance of change not only in the world but also ourselves, and finding joy in and making peace with the time you have left), but also how they tied everything together in their conclusions. Both of them equally made me feel a 'wow..I did that' feeling of accomplishment when I finished them, so yeah, they both were absolutely the most satisfying to write.

20. Share your funniest line.

Being more of angst-based writer kinda limits my collection of comedic lines (even my more comedic story this year was extremely angsty), but there was one line I wrote this year that got a couple comments about it making the reader laugh, so I'll go with that one (because if two people found it funny, surely it must be, right):

“You try fixing an interdimensional portal for thirty years without learning physics," (Stanley) said. "I know what quarks are now. Do you know how much I hate knowing what quarks are.”

25. How did you recharge between fics?

Usually I'd spend the first few days after finishing a fic trying to figure out the what the heck to do with the spare time I had previously allocated to writing said fic, and then once I figured that out (and had yet to be overcome with the urge to write something else), I'd probably watch a TV show, read a book, play video games, and do some art. I'm boring like that.

Send me a number!

[spotsupstuff]

Only 25% processing power dedicated to sparrows? Thats nothing! *dedicates 87% of my processing power to sparrows*

25% of an Iterator processing power has to be an equivalent to like. three or four NASA centrums combined or smth i do not know processing powers but it has to be insanely much..

n then they make some sort of plans for the night that appeal to Euros Very Much and suddenly all processing power he can spare goes to it for the whole day till the plan happens

[imreaallyasorry]

Late night doodle….

[crescentfool]

New Ryomina fic, Lizz!!

THREE WEEKS LATE TO THIS ASK BUT THANK U ANON!! honestly when i got this inbox i was like. tearing up. im like. "oh my god. people still think of me when they see ryomina. thank you so much. that means a lot to me. im so glad people want to share the joy of ryomina with me."

i assume that this is probably about "i alone await you," since the ask came around that time (two people possibly notifying me about this! crazy! this is positive. do not take that the wrong way), and i want to say that i've read it and am going to be insufferable about it for the forseeable future.

and if it is not about that fic than oops. give me clown makeup. i will happily put that on (my true form is that of a clown). i hope to read some more ryominas, it's been awhile since i've sat down to read the tag and. god. did you know? im so normal about them. anyways, thank you anon! 💛💙

[neviixi]

will i finish this thesis or will this thesis finish me

[fierykitten2]

I swap between MeowscaradaxQuaquaval and MeowscaradaxCinderace like I swap between DouglasxRobert and DouglasxSamus

[notquitecanon]

IRL Plug and Play || Poly!141 x Fem!Reader

Summary: Third part of my Search History series (based on Penelope Garcia from Criminal minds) , the dinner party. The culmination of a month of knowing the boy's browser histories. Not much of a summary, it's pretty much dirty from start to finish.

18+ NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Warning: Fem pronouns and genitals, alcohol consumption, alcohol used during sex, porn, emulating porn, group sex, unprotected sex, tagging dub con just to be on the safe side but not really if you read the other parts you get it, Oral (M & F recieiving), fingering, penetration (F receiving) , allusions to penetration (male recieving), inappropriate use of cigar ashes. Genuinely this is just me being gross about these men for almost 12,000 words, proceed with caution. Say it with me one more time- irl this would be workplace harassment and NOT sexy. However, these are fictional war criminals who ARE sexy so we’re forgiving it. 

Original Idea First Prev My Masterlist

made a lil header for the first time these are the vibes of reader and 141 :) (not Penelope's psychical description just her vibes)

pssst see how they're all on their mics in the pics?? its cuz your the voice in their ears :)

When you pulled into a parking spot on John Price’s street thirty minutes early, you automatically feel squirmy and a little foolish. Foolish because you’d convinced yourself that you were reading too much into things. So much so, that, somehow, the boys seeking out your porn twin had circled back around to you feeling like the unprofessional one. Squirming because you’d found the video they’d all watched more than once (more than three times) in the last days of their assignment. Barrack’s Bunny Get’s Gang Banged! 

 (Of course it was a military inspired orgy video, with four men and one woman that looked almost identical to you. Because, JFC, why wouldn’t it be? Was this actress in on the torment? Was she taking requests or was this some sort of cosmic joke where the punchline was your own sexual frustration?)  

Ok, how the hell were you not supposed to read into that? 

You hadn’t been able to watch it all the way through yet, having to pause and take breaks to calm yourself down. The thumbnail alone of your doppelgänger with four sets of hands and… other extremities... was enough to tempt you put your car back in drive and go back home. Because you weren’t sure you could look any of them in the eyes, and also for the third time in the last hour, you were second guessing your outfit. 

Because what the hell does one wear to the porn-party with their boss and superiors? (Ok, maybe you should start by stop calling it the ‘porn-party’, because outside of your own finding in their browser histories, they’d yet to mention any actual porn to you in real life, but what else were you supposed to call this?)

After leaving work, you’d spent a long time debating if you needed to change and, if so, into what, and would it be delusional to put on a matching set? Johnny did say he liked seeing something soft… And were your work clothes too stiff? Was the skirt too presumptuous after that video Kyle liked titled Easy Access ? And was it just you or did your work blouse look slightly too much like the one from the office-scene Price had bookmarked? And why the hell was this all you could think about? Strewing your clothes around your bedroom like a teenager before a party, different combinations and options littering your bed and dresser until you got frustrated with yourself and your closet. With a what the hell moment of ambivalence, you’d settled on something comfortable, but switched into a lacy bralette, lying to yourself that it was more comfortable than the one you’d worn to work, and if the lacy strap happened to coquettishly accent your shoulder when your sweater sleeve slipped down your arm? Well, if it wasn’t a Porn Party, then no one would notice, and if it was, well it’d be sure to draw some appreciative eyes. 

Your car was still cranked as you sat slightly down the block from Price’s house in your casual sweater and hidden matching set, anxiously killing time by alternating between tik tok, instagram, tumblr, and oh yes,  the Barracks Bunny Gets Gang Banged video that you’d been working through thirty seconds at a time because any longer had your overheating and threatening to leave a snail trail on your upholstery. So enthralled and flustered, you’d barely thought of the fact you were quietly playing porn over your car’s bluetooth system, you’d made it to the official halfway mark, and each time you’d switched out to a different app, the ‘break’ was short lived as you went back for more, one hand white knuckling your steering wheel as if this was a particularly good movie with a plot twist you just couldn’t miss. 

So enthralled, that a sudden knocking on your window startled you so bad that you half-tossed-half-dropped your phone with a sound that could only be described as a ’squawk’  as you slammed the mute button to your car’s stereo. It was as you were turning towards the knocker, that you realized you could 100% catch a public indecency charge for this, and somehow were still only half relieved to find Johnny leaning slightly down so he could meet your gaze through your driver-side window. He had his raincoat on, and a lit cigarette pinched between his thumb and pointer as he looked in on you with a cheeky smile and raised brows. When you just stared up at him like a deer in headlights, mentally trying to figure out just how long he’d been there and if from that angle he could’ve seen your screen and how good was the sound proofing on your car…. As you ran those mental calculations, Johnny simply knocked again and this time added a downwards motion with his cigarette, requesting you to roll down the window. 

You’d never noticed how slow your windows descended as the two of you held eye contact (awkward on your side, delighted on his), until there was no longer a pane of glass between you. The cool, damp night breeze carried the scent of tobacco and some kind of Old Spice fragrance into your little car as you looked up at the Scotsman. He seem amused, but happy to see you, "Coming?" 

Your brain short circuited for a moment. Were you… cumming? You stared at him wide eyed, convinced you’d misheard him. 

"What?" Was all you managed to respond with, your brain still trying to scrub filthy, lewd images from between its lobes, like a community service volunteer cleaning graffiti off subway walls. Johnny’s eyebrows only raised higher with his signature, Can’t wait to tell Ghost about this look, as he took another deep puff of his cig. 

"Are ye coming inside, hen?" He clarified slowly with that shit eating grin after blowing his smoke away form you- what a gentleman, "Or are’ye planning to sit out here all night?" 

"Oh, right." You mumbled, resisting the urge to scrub your hands across your face to physically redirect your thoughts. Instead, you nodded and started gathering your things, "Yeah, yeah, I’m coming inside." 

"Good, Si was getting impatient." Johnny grinned, stepping back so you could open your car door after you fished your phone from the passenger floorboards and cut the engine. Si? You hadn’t head that nickname for Ghost before, hell, you still excusively called him Ghost to his face, because you’d not received permission for anything else. Simon was personal, Si… was intimate...  He watched you expectantly, snapping you out of your thoughts, and when you only responded in silent confusion, he reached inside the still open vehicle and tapped the buttons, "Window, bonnie, s'raining." 

Cheeks heating in mild embarrassment, you quickly cut the battery back on so you roll up the window and then get out. You’d always been a little scatter-brained, prone to being in your own little world, but this was getting excessive. Maybe all the porn really was melting your brain… With the windows up and double checking the car was off, you finally got out of the car. Johnny immediately took the plate of brownies out of your hand in the guise of gentlemanly conduct, but actually snuck one from under the plastic wrap before you could scold him.  

"Why so grim? Y’look like yer marching off to war." Johnny seemed pretty pleased with his own little joke, his free arm resting in the small of your back to guide you up Price’s porch step and into the house like you might run off down the street without his guidance. You were considering it anyways. 

"I don’t look grim." You shot him a look but didn’t shake off his arm, nor could you prevent the smile that was fighting at the corners of your mouth, snatching the brownies back from him before he could snag another, happy to have something to fidget with as you smoothed the plastic wrap back into place. 

"No, you most definitely do not." And there was the other sergeant, Kyle, holding the door open for the two of you. Smiling as charmingly as ever, Kyle was already taking the dish out of your hands only to hand the dessert back to Johnny to carry off somewhere else. Then, he was on you, "Glad you could make it, love. Don’t listen to Soap, you look beautiful.” “Hey! Dinnae say she couldn’t be grim and beautiful.” Soap called back, already on his way deeper into the house. 

"Such a shameless flirt." You scoffed just loud enough to drown out Johnny with your own teasing smile, a more usual routine amongst all the overthinking you’d been doing, as Gaz helped you out of your coat. Maybe you were imagining the sensuality, but you were not imagining how his touch lingered, and how his fingers grazed the fabric of your sweater as it was exposed. Hell, he was basically unwrapping your raincoat like it was the gift wrap on a present, "Don’t look half bad yourself, though." 

All the boys looked good in their civilian clothes, hell they’d all look good in anything (or nothing… Focus. Focus.). But Kyle? In his stylish and tailored clothes? He always looked he’d walked off a J. Crew magazine cover when he wasn’t on base. His burgundy sweater looked like something you wanted to rub your cheek against, soft and warm and it fit him like a glove. Gaz grinned at your little praise, not speeding up his maddeningly slow pace of peeling off your raincoat and adjusting your hair for you afterwards, which distracted you just enough that you didn’t notice the others watching his little show. One of his lingering fingers seemed to all together abandon it’s mission, instead tracing the arced lace strap of your (meticulously chosen) lace bralette strap that had fallen off your shoulder. You watched Kyle’s finger follow the flowery lace pattern for a moment before fixing back on your shoulder with an audible snap! that made you jump a little from the sting. 

This time you did see Johnny’s amused grin and slightly devious eyes as your own went wide and you let out a little yelp, snapping your eyes over your soldier at the sergeant. Gaz was quick to soothe the ouch, humming at you before you could get disgruntled while his warm palm cupped the curve of your shoulder and rubbed the slightly stinging skin softly. And if you were still reading into things (you were) you could swear it was just for him to have a reason to touch you more.

"Sorry, love, had to fix it, was bothering me." Was the only explanation offered for his actions. Once your jacket was off, Gaz hung it on the foyer hooks, it looking comically small and feminine between all four of theirs. You knew your brain was melted from all the porn when the visual immediately reminded you of the stupid video’s thumbnail picuture… the pretty, feminine actress with four huge actors surrounding her… Fortunately, Kyle tugging you further into the house pulled you out of your dirty-thought spiral. 

In the kitchen, John Price was waiting, marinating a platter of steaks. You couldn’t help the amused quirk of a smile at seeing the apron tied over his civilian clothes, an unlit cigar in the chest pocket for easy access. The captain smiled first to Gaz with an approving nod, and then to you with a teasing smirk, "Thought you’d sit out in your car all night." 

"I’m early." You defended yourself, cheeks now must be permanently stained into a flush with how easily they managed to fluster you. Gaz parked himself right beside you, leaning on the counter but standing so close that his shoulder was slotted slightly behind you, half his chest pressed to your back, distractingly proving your early guess that his sweater was, in fact, very soft.  It took the steam out of your vehement defense, "You said, eight. It’s 7:50." 

"Yeah, but you’ve been sitting out there since 7:30, love." Kyle chided. You wondered if it was the whiskey he was sipping that gave him the courage to puncuate his teasings with a slight pinch to your hip that made you squirm. His closeness kept you from slipping away as he shifted his attention to his captain, that easy going smile still on his face, "She brought brownies." 

"I know. Johnny’s already had two." Price smiled, slathering another steak with marinade and massaging it into the meat with tender but deliberate ministrations of his long fingers that, for a moment, made you jealous of a dead slab of beef. His eyes caught yours staring at his hands, chuckling as he cleared his throat, "We had something else in mind for dessert. Very sweet of you though." 

Something Price said made Kyle chuckle like it was some kind of inside joke, his fingers still on your hip, tracing little circles that were almost as distracting as… whatever the hell it was that Price was doing to the steaks. 

"Now, go off and relax. I’m about to cut onions and we don’t want to mess up that pretty make up." Price ordered, shooing you off towards his stocked bar cart, before adding quietly enough you thought you might have hallucinated it, "Not yet, anyways." 

__

Later, after you’d been supplied a drink and deposited on the couch with Ghost to watch what you were pretty sure was a rugby match (you were a little distracted by his warm arm draped over your shoulder, fingers tracing the same floral lace Gaz had). 

"Gonna have to make some more room, love." Kyle grinned, looking down at you, holding his drink in one hand and one of your brownies in the other. You looked around yourself, already sandwhiched between the armrest of the sofa and Ghost who hadn’t closed his legs even a fraction when Johnny’d led you to the couch originally. Wasn’t much room to make room with. 

"Oh, I can just-" you started, standing carefully as to not spill the drink Kyle had made for you. Before you could step away to claim the plush arm chair by the mantle (a safe distance from Simon’s thigh against yours and Kyle’s lingering touches), a strong arm wrapped around your middle and tugged you right back down. Instead of your original seat, however, it was Ghost who had pulled you side saddle into his lap, his other hand steadying the drink in yours. Gaz chuckled, taking the spot you had been sitting in, both men unbothered by your startled yelp. 

Despite the fact that Simon had forecully and silently pulled you onto his lap, when you gave him a bewildered look, he seemed not to even notice the fact you were sitting on him, his amber eyes focused on the fame playing even as his finger’s kneaded distracting little circles into the plushest part of your waist, his arm still wrapped around you like you might try and escape. And when you just blinked at him, his only offering was, "Tha’s Price’s chair." 

"Ye look comfy." Soap chided as he came around the corner with a beer and a lo-ball glass of some sort of whiskey, beer for himself and the (presumably) bourbon was given to Simon, both however, were offered to Simon, "Crack that for me, Si?" 

You watched, wide eyed and enamored, as he lifted his mask over his nose and used his teeth to crack the bottle open before taking a long swig and then handing it back to Johnny in exchange for the whiskey. You had a front row seat to the bob of his Adam’s apple, and the way a scar split the top corner of his lip vertically (you wondered if you would feel the scar if he was kissing you, focus, damnit, focus). Soap noticed your expression and the blush in your cheeks with a twinkle in his eyes, " ’s not nice to stare, bonnie." 

You stared a moment longer before forefully shaking yourself out of the stupor and taking a swig of your own drink, thankfully ice cold. The momentary pause allowed you to dip back into your usual well of sarcastic wit, offering the Scot a raised eyebrow, "You’re just jealous I’m not staring at you." 

Johnny only shrugged, stretching his arms across the back of the sofa, making his broad chest only seem broader, his grin showing just enough teeth to appear wolfish as his thigh pressed into Ghost’s and therefore the round of your ass, "Aye, maybe I am."  

"Ignore him, he’s been watching too much…" Simon started swirling then sipping his bourbon before tugging his mask down again afterwards. You knew the answer to his trail off and your internal body temp went up five degrees, alarm bells ringing in your brain. Johnny elbowed the taller man, so Simon only shrugged and finished lamely with, "stuff." 

Porn. He’s been watching a lot of porn. You all have.  I know that. You know that. We all know that. You brain chanting in time with those stupid circles he was rubbing on your hip as Johnny took the liberty of adjusting the hair off your shoulder, his voice a challenging chide,  "What’s that look for, bonnie? What’d you think he was gonna say?" 

Your mouth opened, and then closed, and you were saved from answering by Price coming into the living room, declaring the steaks were marinating so they had a while to just hang out. He gave Kyle a shoulder squeeze in passing, and offered you a warm smile before settling in his chair by the mantle. The chair you’d tried to escape to earlier. 

For a get-together planned around watching the game, it occurred to you that not a single eye was on the TV at the moment. Instead, you realized they were all on… you. Price in his chair, smoothing his beard. Simon still had you on his lap, amber eyes carefully scrutinizing your expression as you flicked your eyes over to Gaz, who was watching you- or rather the rise and fall of your chest as he pulled your legs into his lap- with a slightly cocked head, a small smile on his lips. And finally, Johnny, who’d not stopped fidgeting with your hair and the neckline of your sweater. 

Once again, you were uncharacteristically at a loss for words, squirming a bit on Simon’s lap as you tried to figure out what to say or if to say anything at all, because all that was coming to mind right now were two options. Are y’all trying to fuck me? and How’s the weather?. Both options made you want to crawl in a hole and stay there. 

"You’re quiet tonight, sweet, something on your mind?" Price raised his eyebrows, still smirking, knuckles tapping against the armrest, "Something you wanted to tell the boys, right? What we talked about in my office?" 

How were you supposed to broach the topic of their internet history, essentially admit to knowing about your XXX twin, while sitting on your superior's lap, having your hair played with, and your calves massaged through your leggings… 

"No, no. Just… enjoying my drink." You muttered, draining the rest of the beverage before leaning over to place the empty glass on the side table, which was a mistake because it just had you practically sprawled over the three men on the couch, "What game are we supposed to be watching tonight?" 

"Never mind that, hen." Johnny shrugged, clicking the TV off before tossing the remote to Price, "We’ve been into a… different form of entertainment lately." 

Yeah. I know. The problem is that I know. You thought to yourself, now not even able to pretend to watch the screen, forced to focus on all the hands and eyes on you. 

"Let’s stop dancing around it." Simon gruffed, resting his head against the back of the couch, his fingers trailing from your hip to the top of your thigh, "She’s not daft." 

"Lieutenant Riley, always the subtle one." Gaz rolled his eyes before sliding his eyes over to Price who gave him an affirmative nod, not unlike they would do in the field, and then his eyes were back on you, "So, we know you aren’t blind, love, sure you noticed something going on here." 

You weren’t sure if he was talking about what you’d dubbed the porn party or if he was just talking about the general bond between the men that went deeper than just elite squad, so you just nodded, hoping he would proceed with some more context clues… any keep rubbing his thumbs around your calf. It was not helping you focus. Kyle just grinned, his hands gently roaming up your shins to your knees and then back down, "Well, we’ve noticed something, too, love. You." 

"Me?" You parroted, half sincere half forced faux shock, that sent you further back into Johnny’s chest, the Scot who was still fiddling with your hair had also pressed his nose into the crown of your hair to smell whatever products you used. "Don’t sound so surprised, bonnie." He murmured into your hair before leaning past you to Simon, planting an open-mouthed, 

wet kiss against the larger man’s mask right beside your own face. Your mouth dried out despite just finishing your drink, tongue seeming too big for your mouth, eyes flicking rapidly between them and Gaz. You were beyond flustered, your stomach twisting in a both nerve wracking and enticing way. You didn’t know where to look, or if you should look, or look away. You didn’t want to look away, seeing Soap’s tongue find Simon’s mouth even through the cotton. Did they want the illusion of privacy and if so, how were you supposed to give them that when Simon was half groping you at the same time Johnny was lapping at his tongue 

through the balaclava? Johnny slid his eyes to you, barely breaking from Ghost, "S’alright, hen, don’t mind you watching us. After all, s’only fair." 

Your eyes widened, owlishly turning to Gaz though Simon kept you from slipping off his lap. Was that them telling you that they knew you knew? Was this some confession about finding your doppelgänger and watching enough of her content to pay off her car? He rolled his eyes at the other sergeant, his easy going smile returning when his eyes came back to you. 

"They’re so impatient." He chuckled with a what can you do shrug, as if they’d simply skipped to dessert (innuendo intended) instead of started sloppily making out with you in their lap. He quit massaging at your calves, instead using his middle and pointer fingers to trace patterns (you could swear it was a mimic of the lace pattern he’d traced earlier). Your eyes flicked over to Price, who was still just watching, leaned back in his chair, jutting his chin back to Gaz as if telling you to pay attention. Sheepishly, you turned back to Kyle, "So, we’ve… discovered this person online, and she looks… so much like you. Genuinely, love, it’s uncanny. And there’s this video she made that really caught our attention-" 

"She knows the one." "Aye, She’s seen it." 

Both Price and Johnny answered at the same time. Price, because you’d brought up the issue to him in his office. And Johnny… had apparently been standing outside your car longer than you thought and could see your screen. Your cheeks had to be glowing by now. Kyle’s smile just grew, flashing perfect white teeth at you as he leaned in closer, "Perfect, then we can skip that explanation. But once we saw it… well, it kind of got under our skin. You’ve gotten under our skin, love."  

Johnny and Simon hadn’t stopped though they had shifted and suddenly there lips were back and forth on each other, and also over your neck and shoulders as you tried fervently to keep your eyes on Gaz as he leaned closer, pulling the sleeve of your sweater off your shoulder to expose that lace strap again, "And, judging by how you’ve been acting lately, we’ve gotten under yours too." 

"Yeah. Yeah. That’s one way to put it." You admitted in a released breath, eyes flicked down to Simon who’d been kissing and sucking right at the curve of your shoulder for several long seconds, like if he wasn’t already under your skin, he’d supplant himself there personally. Johnny wasn’t going under your clothes, but his hands were tracing the line of your spine, finding the waistband of your leggings, nosing into your hair so he could kiss the shell of your ear. All while Kyle just kept that pretty grin on you, somehow putting you at ease and twisting your nerves even more. 

"And, truthfully, we could sit here talking about it all night, Or…"  And Kyle Garrick, with that unfairly, stupidly charming smile of his, made a veritable orgy sound as commonplace and sensible as going to the pub afterwork, and you found yourself dumbly nodding along to his easy words before you anxieties, logical and/or otherwise, could convince you that group sex with your coworkers was probably not the most professional way to spend a Friday night. But, damn, the sparkle in those pretty hazel-brown eyes was doing a good job of easing any worries that charming smile had missed… 

Price finally spoke up again, but stayed in his chair, "You're nodding, sweet, but we gotta hear it. Out loud. Do you want this?" 

When you looked over again, John Price was looking wholly the Captain he was. If you thought he was making a point to manspread in his office earlier in the day, now… Now he was just showing off. He looked like he was posing on a throne, legs spread, elbows resting on the arms of the chair as he settled in, watching the three soldiers and you on the couch.  Seemingly completely nonplussed by his subordinate employees’ heavy petting on his couch. 

Your internal reflection was swift. You were already getting felt up. If going into the office was going to be awkward on Monday, it was going to be awkward regardless of whether or not you cut it off at groping. You might as well let them relieve the nagging itch in the back of your mind while you were at it. So after another dumb nod, you found your voice again, "Yes. Yes. I want it. Please." 

"So polite." Johnny murmured, taking you verbal confirmation as permission to slip his hands underneath your clothes, mapping your bare skin, "And you’ll say something if it’s too much?" 

"Yeah, yeah." You nodded fervently, turning your head to try and catch one of their lips, the sweater had been stifling for the past hour, but now it was itching at your feverish skin. Johnny just smiled, helping you out of the thing. 

"Good girl." Simon nodded before his amber eyes lit up a bit, "Well, would you look at tha’." 

His fingers dipped under the lacy band of the bralette you were wearing. Johnny had already run his hands over the fabric while Kyle just whistled lowly. Price was the one who spoke up about it, "Did you put that on just for us, sweet?" 

"Just in… just in case." You nodded in a breath, leaning back into Johnny as he started rolling your leggings down, exposing the complimentary lace waistband of your panties. Another round of appreciative comments and touches, Simon’s teeth nipping at the curve of your neck again. 

"Too good to us, love." Gaz shook his head, helping his fellow sergeant get your leggings all the way off and tossing them somewhere out of sight, pressing kisses to the top of your thighs, then your knees, and finally one too the inside of your ankle. " So you suspected all along. How’d you see the video?" 

"Go on, sweet, fill him in." Price prompted with that stupid little smirk, the one that tugged the corners of his beard up. The one that made you want to get on your knees and do anything to earn one of those approving nods. 

"I-I can see the websites y’all visit." You admitted breathlessly, watching as Kyle kissed his way back up your legs, how those eyes never broke contact with yours, "I have to clear them for security purposes. I’ve.. I’ve seen all the videos y’all’ve been sharing with each other." “

All of them. So 

that’s why you’ve been so quiet, bonnie?" Johnny hummed, a smile pressed into the base of your neck, watching Simon nip at your neck, teeth digging in harder every time, making you whimper which seemed to only egg Ghost on. 

"Flattered or offended?" Kyle asked, but his smile told you he already knew the answer. Because, with you sprawled over the laps of three men, if you were offended you had a funny way of showing it. 

"I should’ve been." You gulped after breaking off Johnny’s lips for a moment, adding on, "Offended."

"But you’re not?" Price prompted, head cocking to the side as he fiddled with lighting his cigar. 

No. For better or for worse, this roundabout workplace harassment approach had really worked on you. So you just shook your head, opening your mouth as Simon pulled his mask up and caught your lips, tongue domineering itself into your mouth almost instantly. 

"So cooperative, nice change of pace." One of them hummed, but you couldn’t place it, too focussed on the fingers kneading at your inner thighs, slowly working your legs open into a spread so your knee’s were hooked over each side of Simon’s wide spread legs, which exposed the dampened gusset of the deliberately chosen panties. 

"All right, deal’s a deal, Garrick," Simon all but growled into your mouth, your eyes fluttering open to see his amber eyes watching Kyle who was smirking like he’d just gotten away with something, "You get first taste. Warm ‘er up for us." 

Oh. Oh. Just diving right in. Though Gaz was ever the gentleman, charming through and through. 

"May I?" He asked softly, waiting with his fingers hooked in the lacy waistband as he sunk to his knees in front of you. Your breath picked up just from the sight, and it was only Simon holding you to him that kept you from leaning down and catching a kiss from Kyle as well. Since that wasn't an option, you jerked your head in a clumsy nod, punctuating with the cant of your hips towards him that just made him chuckle as your panties were discarded towards the same direction as your pants. 

"Please." You whined, the tone making all of the men snap their eyes up to you, the expressions all reading make her do it again. You didn’t even have time to adjust to the cold air on your exposed bits before Gaz’s hot mouth was covering the sensitive flesh, drawing a gasp as you threw yourself back into Simon’s chest. Ghost only hooked his chin over your shoulder, lazily watching as Gaz licked a flat stripe, first dipping into your entrance, teasing a bit as deep as he could get. Your clit got a little attention from his nose bumping it, make you breathe sharp breaths with little clipped moans. But when he withdrew and  traced his tongue  back up, finding your clit and slipping under the hood, your attempts at demure noises were nixed by a sudden and echoing moan. 

"That good? Yeah, Gaz’s pretty skilled with ‘is tongue." Johnny nodded, nuzzling at your other shoulder as he watched on too, palming himself through his jeans, "Meticulous thing he is." 

"How’s she taste, sergeant?" Price asked, adjusting himself as well. Kyle surfaced for only a moment, replacing his tongue with his fingers when you whined in disappointment. 

"Better than the bloody brownies, that’s for certain." He hummed, his corners of his mouth glistening, eyes flicking up to you as he rested a cheek against the inside of your thigh. You tried to be offended at the diss to your baking skills, but as Kyle dove back in, a skillful swirl and lewd slurp killed any smart comment on your tongue, or rather on his. You weren’t sure if it was even possible to actually decipher, but you were certain he was spelling barrack’s bunny over your clit with his tongue, letter by unraveling letter. All four men seemed to delight in how your breathing sped up, how your head seemed so heavy to hold up that it flopped backwards into Simon’s shoulder. Kyle tolerated your hips rolling twice, but his chivalry ended the third time, reaching up and placing Simon’s hand at your waist to hold you still for him, while his hands kept your thighs from closing around his head. The message was clear. Anything you were getting would come from him and only him. You recalled how so many of his preferred videos revolved around control, pleasure dom, a term you had had to google. All you could do was stare down between your legs and watch him devour you. 

"If she tastes half as good as she looks…" Johnny trailed off, catching the corner of your mouth for a short kiss, his fingers tracing the lace pattern right over your perked nipples, at least Simon was lenient enough to let you arch your chest into the touch, "Right treat you are, hen." 

Your first climax was a quick thing, a full body clench and vulgar moan clawing its way out of your throat, your thighs trembling around Kyle as he licked and slurped his way through your high, collected anything you put out for him. His movements only slowing when your body relaxed back against Ghost. He gave your pussy a comedically sweet kiss before sitting up, and it was only then that he pulled you down to him for your first real kiss from him. It was tender and sweet, with the appropriate amount of tongue, almost the kind of kiss you’d give on a really good first date, if it wasn’t for the fact you could taste your essence on him, your cum making his lips slippery against yours. 

"Called dibs on that weeks ago." He grinned, breaking the kiss to watch his fingers to dip between your legs, collect some more of your wetness and pop it in his mouth, eyes closing like he was savoring a fine wine.  You watched him with mouth agape and eyes half lidded, "Alright then, Tav, surprised you held yourself back this long, go on then."

Johnny’s smile was all teeth as he descended upon you, kissing any of your slick off your mouth that Kyle’d left behind like he was getting a sneak preview. Though, for someone so often ridiculed for being impatient, he was anal about this kiss. Making sure to try every angle of his mouth against yours, then repeating his tests with tongue, and then once more splitting your attention with Simon. Ghost played along for a while, letting his sergeant explore your lips and your chest before he nodded down to the floor when Kyle’d been. 

"Keep yourself busy, Johnny." Was the clipped order, as he took over kissing you, one large hand splayed along your face to keep you drawn to him, as if you might try to get away. He had nothing to worry about, the whiplash of switching partners and desires had you craving attention anywhere you could find it. You were already putty on his lap with Johnny taking over Kyle’s place between you legs. While it was still overwhelmingly pleasurable, his actions were more sloppy than Kyle’s. His strategy was to barrage your nerves as opposed to Kyle’s precision attacks. It still had you whining and squirming, which was enough to short circuit your focus. Johnny didn’t seem to mind you instinctively grinding into his face, in fact it only seemed to encourage him. Simon’s job was to keep you from melting off his lap, which he did while his kisses became harder and harder, sometimes biting at your bottom lip, "Now you just taste like his shitty beer, you’ll lemme fix that, won’t you, lovie?" 

When you nodded, he smiled, tugging the balaclava all the way off. You didn’t even have time to properly admire how handsome he was under the thing, didn’t have time to pepper those scars with kisses or wax poetic about how all his unconventional features played together harmoniously to make him exceedingly handsome. Before you could do any of that, he’d taken a sip of his bourbon, swallowing as he watched you watch him. 

"Open." He directed, nodding when you obediently dropped your mouth open. He tipped your head back at the same time as he took a longer draw of his bourbon, holding it in his mouth for a moment before pulling your lips up to his and kissing the liquor straight onto your tongue, burning off anything and anyone else. When he’d given you every last drop, he pulled back and manually shut your mouth, "Go on and swallow for me, don’t waste it. ’s hard to get this stuff ‘round here." 

Bourbon wasn’t often in your rotation for drinks, the taste smoky and sharp just like the man that had kissed it into your mouth, but one look into Simon’s eyes had you nodding again. As you forced yourself to swallow it, the burn going all the way into stomach, stoking the fires the men had started in you. After he watched your throat bob, he nodded approvingly. 

"Good fuckin’ girl." He praised which made the burning sting worth it, catching your lips in another punishing kiss when you moaned from Johnny’s sloppy slurping. Simon hummed, finding that your mouth now tasted like his preferred pour, "Much better." 

After kissing the taste of his bourbon off you, he pulled back for a moment just to watch you whine and grind against the sergeant between both sets of your legs. After a moment of appreciation for the garment against your skin, the bralette they’d all liked so much was roughly yanked down,  the straps down your shoulders while the cups and band bunched up under your now exposed breasts. Johnny was watching from the floor, his big blue eyes crinkling and lips pulling into a smile against you, while Simon ran his hands over your bare chest, stopping to squeeze and pinch when he pleased. “Johnny- 

Ghost-" You almost shrieked not sure who to call too or thank for the electric static in your nervous system, arching your chest up into his hands, and when the movement moved your hips away from Johnny, he just took your legs off Simon’s knees and hooked them over his shoulders, keeping you firmly in place, "

Shit." 

"Language, sweet." Price teasingly scolded from his chair, still stroking his beard from his arm chair. Gaz and Simon just chuckled when you pouted through another throaty moan. Simon was nudging your cheek with his nose, skimming his teeth across you jawline between kisses that trailed fown your neck, sucking marks that would stay for weeks, always finding his way back to what seemed to be his favorite spot in the curve of your neck. “Should’ve seen the Sergeants when they first found that video, acting like they’d won the fuckin' lottery. Been wanting you for months but tha’ really sealed the deal, lovie, couldn’t even get through the first quarter before this one was panting and rutting. Like it was the first time they’d ever seen a dirty video. Ain’t that right, Johny?”  It was the most you’d ever heard Simon talk in one go, every couple of words grunted and groaned out between kisses across any skin he could reach with you sitting back against him, breath hotly fanning along your neck as he went. And when he finished the thought, he reached down between your legs and fished the sergeant up by his mohawk, leaving both you and Johnny whine at the loss of contact. Simon just laughed coldly and gave Johnny a prompting jerk, much rougher than he’d been touching you, “You gonna answer us, Johnny?”  “Aye. Aye. Knew I had to get ma’ hands on ye.” Was all he managed before diving in for another taste of you, surfacing briefly again to relay a message up to Simon, half moaned half growled, 

"This cunt's like fucking silk, I’ll tell you, Lt.” Strong hands clenching into the plushest parts your thighs holding them around his face like he was 

hoping he’d suffocate down there, "Ye gotta get in here, ain’t nothing like it."

"You want that, sweetheart?" Simon hummed, moving from your lips to your jaw and down your neck, "Want me in you?"

"Fuck. Yes, fuck me." You rambled which just made them chuckle at you as one of your hands when into Johnny’s mohawk and the other palmed at your breasts. Johnny moaned when you tugged at his hair, sending subtle vibrations up with his tongue that almost sent you undone again. Simon easily pushed you down his legs, still supporting you with one hand as Johnny kept going, and freeing his erection with the other. Gaz and Johnny had worked hard to warm you up, to break you in for them, but Simon’s dick threatened to break you, period. He was just as thick as John, but almost as long as Kyle, cut, veiny, with a pretty pink tip. Como se dice, how you say… hung like a fucking horse.  

He must’ve seen your wide eyes, the subtle fear in your eyes that was chased away when Johnny drug his teeth over your clit with just enough pressure to make you choke on your own spit. Ghost reached down intermingling his fingers with your folds and Johnny’s tongue, "We’ll start easy. Just the tip, lovie. Johnny’ll handle the rest for now." 

They did just that. He held his hand out to Johnny, letting the man on his knees spit into his palm and then rubbed it against his dick, before pulling you back against him once more. Before he even attempted any sort of penetration, he slid his erection through your folds a couple of times just to collect some more slick,  "You are just like silk, Johnny was right." 

He grunted into your neck with another few slippery passes before reaching down as easing the tip into you. He was thick, enough so that it stung a bit as you tried to adjust. Despite his soft voice and unusually soft eyes, Simon’s control slipped, rutting a bit before you were ready. At you uncomfortable whine, Johnny mirrored the sound in disapproval of your upset, immediately going to remedy the hurt with his tongue, servicing both you and Simon with a flat lick up Simon’s exposed length and then up to your clit to help you relax. 

"Breathe for me, lovie." The Liutenant ordered, like he was trying to be gentle with you but his jaw was gritted, trying even harder not to snap his hips against yours and bully his too-big dick into your hole, "Try to relax for me." 

You were panting, cheeks puffing with your breaths, not sure if Johnny’s tongue was helping or just tensing you up more, but God, it felt good and you weren’t going to be the one to tell him to stop. Not yet at least. You got another inch in, which earned a kiss to your neck. 

" s’all I can take right now." You breathed, reaching back to support yourself against him. 

"Better than I did on my first go, eh, LT?" Johnny grinned up before kissing up the length of Simon’s cock that wasn't inside of you, flicking his tongue over the stretched rim of your entrance that was still trying to clench around the sudden intrusion, "She’s tryin’ so hard." 

By the look in his eyes, he wasn’t talking about you. The She in question was just your pussy. Simon nodded along, hissing curses into your hair. 

"Alright, lovie, alright, no more for now." He gritted out, " ‘m gonna move now, just try and stay loose as you can for me." 

Humming in agreement, you tried to let yourself be pliant against him, feeling his hips rock, the in and out of his movements pleasurable enough to draw out a keening moan despite the less than comfortable stretch. His lips were at your neck again as he continued his thrusts, slightly steadier, growing more confident. And then it was his teeth, nipping between sucks, though his words were still growled, "That’s it, doing so good for me, for us." 

Your mistake was losing yourself in the feeling, letting your hips rock because it shattered what little control Ghost had at the moment. He sunk in another few inches, teetering between painful and pleasurable, making you cry out, nails digging into his forearms as a tear slipped down your cheek. The dig of your nails only urged him on, the nip of your teeth turning into a full bite, enough to break skin just slightly. However, the moment your cry was one of actual discomfort instead of pleasure, he withdrew completely, kissing over where he’d bitten, "Sorry, sorry, lovie, got too rough, too quick with you." 

He slowly eased you off of him, nudging Johnny off as well, still kissing at the spot he’d bitten too harshly, fingers kneading comfort into your hips and then your thigh, "Y'alright? Need to stop?" 

You took a breath, let the initial shock of the stretch and the bite fade away, let him swipe the rogue tear off your cheek, let your body readjust…. and then shook your head, signalling you wanted to keep going, pulling him by the back of the neck down to you again for a kiss. Johnny was still at your knees, massaging your thighs, watching Simon deepen the kiss as much as you’d let him, and then pushing a little further, his fingers flexing hard into you again making you wince just a little. Honestly, you could’ve endured that, hell with another couple of kisses, you could’ve enjoyed it. But this time, he cut himself off, pulling back with a slew of curses that’d send a sailor to confession. 

"Fuck, ‘m sorry, sweetheart, I’ve never been good at taking it slow." Simon growled, jaw still clenched so hard you were afraid he’d crack a tooth., thumbs easing the irritated skin he’d clenched just slightly too hard, "You’re just too perfect, can’t keep my head on straight."

Ghost stopped to think for a moment, breathing hot and heaving against you skin, before flicking his eyes down to Soap who’d stopped massaging your thighs in favor of featherlight kisses where his stubble had chafed you. You’d seen this before, the internet called it cuteness aggression. 

"Price." He called, nodding to his Captain, a signal to take over. John nodded, and after meeting your still lust glazed expression, ascertaining you were alright, seemed rather amused by the tag-in.  It seemed, despite the civilian clothes  and whatever intimacy was shared amongst the group, rank hierarchy was still firmly present, because when Captain Price finally rose from his arm chair, the sergeants and Lieutenant wordlessly moved out of his way, presenting you along the way for him as his belt buckle jingled being loosened and discarded. 

Still, despite his evident imposition, his strength was gentle as he peeled you off his lieutenant who stood, manhandling Johnny off with him to the chair. Half dazed and panting, you were grateful for his patience as he asked with only a little teasing, "Can you stand for me, Sweet, just a little?" 

And when your legs were still jelly and trembling, he just chuckled, leaking cigar smoke into your mussed hair, "That’s alright, Sweet, you just let me lay you out all pretty." 

With that, you were bent over the arm of your boss’s sofa, callous hands traced slowly down your spine and then paused at your hips, massaging your flanks much as he had his cuts of steak. Price massaged his way from your hips, over and around your ass, and then worked from outwards to the inner most part of your thighs. Finally, he dragged a flat palm up your exposed sex, and when you looked over your shoulder, he was licking his tongue across that same hand, a deep rumbling growl shaking you to your core as you watched him taste not only you, but also notes of his boys, "Sweeter than fuckin’ sugar, love. Fuckin’ perfect." 

You just stared at him with wide eyes, limply spread over the arm rest, hips instinctively pressing back into him to find more touch, more friction, more him. Words failed, only high pitched whines made it out. Which made Johnny, off to the side, chuckle. 

"Think this is the longest I’ve ever seen her quiet." The scot chided, watching with great interest as Price took another swipe through your folds, coating his cock in whatever (whoever’s) bodily fluids he collected there. 

"Maybe you should take some notes, mutt." Simon gruffed, taking a fistful of the sergeant’s Mohawk and tugging it rather harshly backwards, exposing Johnny’s throat that his teeth descended upon almost immediately. Some time between being between our legs and being in Simon’s lap, Johnny’s shirt had disappeared, his jeans still on but unbuckled and Simon was fishing his erection out. 

"Ignore ‘em." Price chuckled down to you, physically redirecting your attention by giving your clit a bit of attention as he eased himself slowly in, all the way to his base, "Y’feel even better than you taste, sweet thing, y’know that?" 

You didn’t know that, but you’d take the compliment, if you remembered it, or your own name by the end of… whatever this was. He gave one slow and steady thrust, almost like an experiment, one hand holding your hips in place, the other holding his cigar up to his lips. 

"Dessert before dinner, how about that, lads?" 

There was a moment of recall to his earlier words, "Already had something else in mind for dessert" echoed with what he just said in your fuzzy mind. You had been dessert all along, and judging by the ravenous eyes with varying degrees of satiation,  the 141 intended to eat their fill, your online look-a-like was simply a taste test. A momentary taste of vindication on your tongue- you hadn’t been reading too far into things or fluffing your own ego, this was premeditated, and your matching set wasn’t presumptuous. Still, that only lasted a singular breath, the smug vindication was phsycially forced out of you with a rough snap of his hips, the first of many from the demanding, almost brutal, pace John set for himself. 

"There’s a girl, you just take it for me," He grunted between thrusts, seemingly pleased with your little cries and moans, "Just like that, sweet, you’ll be taking Simon’s cock in no time."  

John Price’s couch was not picked out with ‘being bent over the side’ in mind. Or perhaps, you were just a bit softer than the other’s that had had the pleasure of being bent over the arm like John had you at that moment. Taking mercy upon your ribs, or perhaps just for his own selfish purposes, Kyle slotted himself underneath your front and sat you up against his chest, throwing your arms over his shoulders. While John still had your hips over the couch arm, Gaz had pulled you chest up to his, his lips finding your lips, your cheek, jaw, and breasts as he went. 

"Poor sweet thing" Kyle cooed, his perfect pearly teeth nipping at your ear while is chest steadied you against Price’s onslaught that pushed a thought our of your mind with each quick, but deep, thrust, "Didn’t know what you were walking into, did you? And now look at what a mess we made you?" 

You couldn’t tell if Kyle was mocking you or praising you, kind words and little digs were both dipped in that sugary sweet tone that just made you nod up at him with wide eyes and a pouted lip. One of this thumbs reached up and swiped a mascara laden tear out from under your eye, the same thumb dipping into your mouth and holding it open in the pornographic O-shape after Price drew a vulgar moan out with a particularly deep thrust that also managed to scoot the sofa a couple of inches. Gaz didn’t even waver, just laughed a bit as he held you steady, "Mean, innit he?" 

Another moan blocked the chance at a snappy reply, not that you had the current brain power to make one. The sergeant just took the chance to swallow your noises with his mouth over yours, kissing you and biting your bottom lip as he pulled away. With what little fortitude you had, you grabbed the collar of that soft sweater and hauled him right back up to your mouth. It was aggressive kissing. Tongue and teeth and nails, sloppy and  dirty, your noses bumping together from the force of Price’s thrusting. 

When Price adjusted your hips, it forced you onto your tip toes to maintain the angle. And while the new angle provided incentive and reward in the way of relentless pounding of that delicious spongy spot inside you, that fact only made it harder for your already shaking legs to support you. 

"Hold her fast, Sergeant." Was the grunted order as he gave your ass a smack, like he was punishing you for the indiscretion of already having you legs fucked out from under your from the other men in his living room. Honestly, How dare you? Kyle took orders beautifully. The best multitasker on the squad, as he not only, held you at that perfect angle for his Captain, but also, trailed wet, hot kisses down to your chest, locking onto one of your nipples with devious precision, only sucking harder when you cried out. 

" ‘m gonna cum-!" It was strangled and whined into Kyle’s shoulder still fisting the collar of his shirt while your other hand posed serious risk of shredding the upholstery. 

"You gonna cum on me, sweet? Go ahead, but I’m not stopping." Price chuckled through his warning, leaning over your head and pulling Gaz in by the back of his neck for a sloppy kiss of his own. 

"Go on then. Give it to him." Kule urged in that sickly sweet tone, "The captain’s working so hard back there for you, least you could do is let ‘im feel how pretty you fall apart." 

Another moan, a garbled cry of both of their names mashed together when they pushed you over the edge in tandem with a well timed deep thrust and light smack to your clit from Price at the same time that Gaz tweaked both of your nipples.. 

"You feel that Cap? That flutter?" Gaz called, talking (literally) over your head as you sagged, twitching against him, unlatching from the hickey he was sucking into your collarbone, "That’s fuckin’ magic, that is." 

"Flutter? She’s wringing me dry in there." Price groaned, his pace only slowed by the vice like grip your core had as your eyes rolled back, "Sweet’s cunt’s practically swallowing me, bloody hell, greedy thing, aren’t you?"

The only reprieve you had was Price leaning forward so his warm chest pressed to your back, his big hands circling your clit like it might encourage you loosen back up for him so he could resume his movements, "C’mon, love, you gonna answer me?" 

"Yes…" You drawled, flopping your head over so you could meet his eyes over your shoulder, that signature mirthful smile twitching the corners of his beard of as he tweaked the little bundle of nerves to correct you. With a little cry, you answered once more, "Yes, sir." 

"Atta girl." Price nodded approvingly as he took a long draw of his cigar his pinkie shaking off little bits of ash onto your raised posterior (which should’ve made you feel degraded, or maybe it did which is why it made your eyes flutter again), both at the answer and at the relaxing of your muscles allowing him to build his pace back up.  

"Hear that, love?"  Kyle’s attention returned down to you when your face dropped back down into the curve of his shoulder, "what a good pussy, taking us all so well, and she just keeps wanting more." 

"More?" You croaked out through another moan, panting and trying to count the stars dotting your vision, not sure if you were requesting or parroting in disbelief. Though with a clearer mind, you wouldn’t have been so shocked. Price had barely stuttered in getting his rhythm back up to it’s pace, riding you all the way through your orgasm. 

"Told you, ‘m not fucking stopping." Price growled with another smack to the round of your ass. Something between a moan and a cry crawled out of your throat, but tapping our hadn’t once occurred to you. 

"You can take it, love, bet you can even give us another big finish, yeah?" Kyle encouraged. It occurred to you the Gaz had now coaxed you through two orgasms, and really hadn’t even asked for anything in return from you. And while you were sure, between the four of you, someone would throw him a bone(r), you decided to take that cross upon yourself, reaching down between him and yourself and wrapping around his dick. From what you could tell, he was on the leaner side, but he was the longest in the group, slightly curved. Which gave you plenty of room to rub and squeeze, from base to his tip where you thumbed the slit, spreading the precum back down as you followed the vein on the underside. Kyle tried to chuckle through a moan, "Bloody hell, love." 

Jerking off took on a new meaning as your movements, meant to be languid and smooth, turned jerky and choppy with the force of Price’s increasing speed, his rythym stuttering as he chased his own release. Kyle leaned down using one of his free hands to roll a nipple in his fingers, catching the other in his mouth as you continued to pump him. Between the two of them, it didn’t take long to come close to the edge once more, and you didn’t even have time to be proud of bring both of them over with you in tandem as your third orgasm tore through you, leaving all three of you dazed and breathless. You were vaguely aware of Gaz’s cum on you chest, kind of feeling the warm, sticky trail it left as it leaked down your front while John gave a few more lazy strokes as he softened inside of you. Though Gaz twitched hard again just watching your eyes roll back, and when Price was finally done, he gave your thighs a gentle, almost proud squeeze, watching his spend leak out for a moment before gently collecting you upright once more. With a sweet forehead kiss that contrasted so heavily from the cigar ashes and ass slaps, he gave your cheek a little pat, "Still with me, sweet?" 

"Mmmhm." You nodded, eyes only half opned as Gaz sat up behind you and sucked kisses across the back of your shoulders. You’d be wearing turtle necks for weeks. John’s attention shifted over to Simon, who you now realized had been watching the show with the darkest eyes you’d ever seen with poor Johnny taking the brunt of whatever storm Ghost had brewing. Your eyes fluttered watching the liutenant’s hand tighten around Johnny’s throat. Despite the tears on the Scot’s face, he didn’t appear to be too upset with his current predicament, in fact giving you a groan through a watery smile as Simon’s other hand tightened even more around Johnny’s leaking dick. 

"Got it all out of your system, Lieutenant?" Price asked with a raised brow, both him and Gaz still keeping you upright with gently roaming hands. Simon gave both his hands another squeeze making Johnny pant. 

"I’m solid." He nodded, surprisingly tender as he released Johnny, the sergeant stumbling off his lap.  Simon rose behind him, both men approaching the couch. You weren’t positive what ‘it’ was or why it needed to be out of Simon’s system, but Gaz nodded and pressed one last sweet kiss to the curve of you shoulder before letting Simon slide into his place. The largest of the men simply laid down on the couch, taking up most of the three-seater, efficently pulling you backwards so you straddled his lap facing away from him. 

"Nice and slow for me, lovie." Simon directed, lining himself up with your entrance after bumping your clit with his tip. Thank god for his strong hands guiding your hips down at the pace he set. Though Price had thoroughly broken you in, and you’d already partially taken Simon once, you still tensed up nervously but set your jaw with determination to do it again and get all of it from this new angle. With your back to his face, you had a front row set to the others watching hungrily. Kyle was leaning back against Price’s chest, the older man reaching around to palm the sergeant’s erection as Gaz pressed his back to Price’s front, grinding backwards. But Johnny, poor Johnny, with his cock almost purpled by Simon’s earlier teasing, rocking on his heels like he was just waiting for permission to join in, sapphire eyes bouncing between Simon’s face, your face, and the stretch of you pussy around Simon’s cock- like he couldn’t decide who was most jealous of. 

Inch after deliciously painful inch, Simon helped you ease yourself down until your ass was flush with his hips. From this angle, though Simon could still rut up against you, the pace was all your decision, making it harder for him to lose control again. With your hands braced against his tree-trunk thighs. Simon gave you a minute to adjust, to pant and try to focus your eyes. The soldier underneath you grunted, fingers flexing on your waist as he adjusted himself making you whimper and almost fall forward. 

"Si-" Johnny whined, his hands twitching forward like he wanted to help you, or maybe just touch you, his cock leaking down his leg. Simon’s voice was not as gentle to his sergeant, a gruff order. 

"No’ yet."  Before returning his attention to you, voice softening slightly, "Take your time, sweetheart, move when you want, I want you to feel good." 

Giving a jerky nod, you gave an experimental wiggle that nestled him somehow even deeper. Your moan was lodged in your throat as your eyes shut, but the movement earned a deep groan and hiss from Simon. With a deep breath, you managed to move past the acclimation stage so the actual pleasure started building again, which felt like crossing the finish line of a marathon. Next, a roll of your hips that genuinely blurred out your vision, feeling so good that our body instinctively did it again to chase the feeling. And then again, and again- head falling forward and then rolling back. 

"That’s it, lovie, find your rhythm." Simon tried to prain but it sounded more like a growl as his hands flexed again into the softest parts of your waist, his long fingers spanning so far that they kneaded into the plushness of your stomach, "Fuckin' hell." 

"Si-" Johnny whined again, drawing the clipped nickname into two syllables, this time his twitching fingers finding purchase in the arm of the sofa you’d been bent over earlier. If you weren’t so focused on Simon’s cock rearranging your internal organs, you might’ve heard the ominous creak of the fabric under his strength. When your eyes fluttered open, they locked onto Johnny’s bright blues, darkened to a stormy hue with impatient want. His Scottish brogue thickening deeply, "Ah keened you’d be better than the lass in the fuckin’ videos, so fuckin’ sweet and pretty-" 

"Alright." Simon gruffed  before his voice softened down again, "Go on, sweetheart, show the mutt some love, won’t you? He won’t shut up until you do." 

Even though the permission had been given to you, Johnny was immediately upon you. Much like Gaz, Johnny took up the job of supporting your upper body as Simon had your hips firmly in his grasp. With one knee pressed into the couch cushion, he hugged your chest to his, his hands groping and feel any part of you he could get his hands on like it was the first time he’d touched you or any other soft and pretty thing. Unlike Gaz, his mouth on your started out aggressive and when you would moan, he’d mirror the noises, groaning them right back onto your tongue. 

"And soft. Ye sound better too." Johnny groaned when Simon suddenly rutted against your rocking, leaving you crying out and digging your nails into Johnny’s shoulders. With strong but surprisingly gentle grip, your fingers were removed from his shoulders. Johnny led one of your hands in an exploratory trail down his chest, following the path of thick, dark body hair, past his abs, until he wrapped your hand around his cock which twitched even at your slightest touch. 

"So fucking soft, bonnie," he breathed, coaxing your hand into movement while kissing your other palm, before looking over to Simon, "Not a callous on her hands, Lt, dinnae even think about that." 

Simon merely grunted in acknowledgement of Johnny’s discovery, seeing as his focus was an entirely different part of your anatomy. The larger man seemed content letting his sergeant be the vocal one, sometimes rewarding you with a hiss or a strangled groan. He’d given up on letting you control the pace now that you were acclimated and half bouncing against him, rutting and grinding against you in time with your own rolling and rocking as you sped up. It was only natural for your hand on Johnny’s cock to speed up as well. 

"Sweetheart, why don’t you show him something even softer than your hands? He went through a lot for you, after all." He didn’t give you time to ask what that was supposed to mean, but you figured it had something to do the vicious series of bites and hickies on the man’s neck. You could tell Simon was moving because his cock was shifting angle inside of you, making you gasp. One of his large hands splayed against the small of your back, pressing you firmly forward and down. A sudden thrust as he applied pressure to your back made you go boneless, letting the men push your cheek first into Johnny’s stomach and then down to where your hand was still pumping Johnny’s cock. 

"Look at that, a multitasker. ’s why she’s such a good analyst for us." Gaz chided from the sidelines like he was commentating on a sports match, watching as you were stroking Johnny, holding your cheek against him while trying to catch your breath from Simon’s thrusts. Johnny helped guide himself into your mouth. It wasn’t so much length as the girth, even thicker than Price, that stretched your jaw uncomfortably. But the way that Johnny moaned sinfully above you when your nose pressed into the dark curls at his base, the way he all but melted over you like butter, encouraged to breathe through your nose and keep going. 

"Steaming Jesus, Si, I cannae last like this-" Johnny moaned, seemingly not even noticing how loud he was. Simon only laughed lowly, reaching around your thighs to dip between them, circling your clit. Your thighs were trembling, moans getting louder and less restrained, nothing about this was restrained anymore. 

"That’s alright, Johnny, neither will she, will you, lovie?" He asked with another deep thrust, "feel ‘ow she’s shaking?"  

You were shaking your head still with a mouthful of Johnny’s cock, because you weren’t going to last much longer, eyes rolling and fluttering, landing on the arm chair again where Gaz being treated as well, both him and John watching appreciatevly as Ghost and Soap had you in lopsided Eiffel tower. You were pulling out any trick for Johnny that you managed to remember between Simon’s thrusts, swirling tongue and bobbing heads. But what did him in was actually Simon’s doing. When Simon rolled his hips into you just right, hitting every good spot and giving your clit a swipe, your eyes crossed and you moaned, practically screaming around Johnny’s member, the vibrations and look on your face enough to finish him. His hand tightened in your hair, hips snapping, pushing your nose into his pelvis, and holding you there as he came with what some might call a battle cry.  After everything Simon had put him through earlier, he was pent up, leaving him cumming. and cumming, and cumming, until you had to swat at his thigh because you couldn’t take anymore. 

You swallowed what you could, taking a couple more spurts to your face and chest before Johnny crumbled onto the couch against you, kissing the taste of himself right off your tongue as Simon continued his thrusts, getting incrementally faster and harder as you proved you could handle it. The scot took over the praising and encouragement as his superior fell back into the quiet grunting and groaning against you, though you could barely make out any of the words as you approached your fourth finish. For the first time in your life you understood the phrase "fucked stupid". You were somewhat sure you were rambling gibberish accolades to the men, cries of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ’thank you’ intermingled with moans and curses that put your over the top XXX twin’s to shame. 

"C’mon, sweetheart, one more f’ me." Simon growled out, switching positions so quickly and effeciently that you didn’t even realize it until you body was pressed face down into the couch cushion, Simon still behind you, drilling into you with a pace that put mechanized machinery to shame. You weren’t even sure how you were taking it just that you were and if he stopped you might start crying, "I know you’re close, just lemme have it-" 

Johnny was back on his knees in front of the couch, catching your nipple in his mouth. And you turned your head towards John and Kyle, locked in their own encounter, and then it just snapped. Your orgasm not just washing over you, but a tidal wave crashing over you and frying every nerve a long the way. For a moment your vision whited out, the only thing you were aware of was Simon’s strokes slowing and working you through it. With your body practically vibrating with overstimulation, you let your unseeing eyes roam to to the cieling fan and let your mind wander as you floated somewhere above reality for a bit, enjoying the electric feelings between each neuron firing. Every noise and sight becoming background information as overstimulation fuzzed it all out except the aftershocks and twinges in your core. 

You weren’t sure how long it was before you came back to yourself, but you heard Johnny’s voice first, "C’mon, bonnie, float back down to us."

"There she is." Kyle cooed in tandem with the other sergeant while your cheek, "Lost you for a bit there. Alright?" 

You were more than alright, body more sated than it’d been in years, still thrumming and twitching with the aftershocks, so you just nodded slowly, trying to focus your eyes in on one thing at a time, voice slightly slurred with nothing to do with the drinks, " ‘m alright." 

"Was worried I broke you." That was Simon, who’s lap your head was in. You only offered a dopey smile and a lazily blink.

"You might’ve, but I’m ok, more than ok." You sighed with a dry laugh, turning your head so your cheek pressed to his thigh, though you noticed he’d slipped his sweats back on. 

"Si’s gotta work on being gentle, we don’t make him practice enough." Johnny teased, running soothing hands along your sides. Suddenly, a cup of water with a straw was placed in front of your face, and when you looked up it was Price holding it down to you before Kyle took it and held it steady for you. 

"Never see you complaining about it, McTavish." John teased right back, trading off the cup so he could smooth hair off your sweaty forehead, "Take as long as you need, sweet, y’did good for us. So good." 

His praise nestled deeply, right between your ribs, making you smile softly as Kyle coaxed the straw into your mouth, letting you sip on the water as he ran a caring thumb over the apple of your cheek.

— 

You must’ve dozed off, because when you woke up, you were still on the couch, but everyone else had moved around you liked you simply always been nestled amongst them. The thought made your lips curl in a dopey grin as you looked around them. Half upright and wrapped in someone’s hoodie, you were laying against Price’s chest, head tipped back into his shoulder as he worked around a plate filled for two, the atmosphere was cozy now, the electric  frantic tension from earlier had morphed into something warm and intimate. 

“Evening. Hungry?” His chest rumbled as he held the plate closer to your field of view. Two very juicy ribeyes, baked potatoes, green vegetable- the stereotypical macho man plate. John seemed all too proud of himself when you opened your mouth to accept a fork of perfectly cut bite-size steak, laughing when you hummed in approval, “There we go, sweet, worked up an appetite, yeah?” 

“Really? Thought we already stuffed ‘er pretty good.” Kyle teased, still gently swiping warm rags over your body, wiping away any evidence that wasn’t etched or sucked semipermanently into your skin, occasionally following his ministrations with gentle kisses and soft praises, “Feel ok, love? Need anything?” 

When you shook your head, gently squeezing his wrist in gratitude, he only smiled, giving you a tender kiss to the forehead before retrieving his own plate and sitting on the opposite side of Price, claiming the captain’s other shoulder for his own head.

Johnny was in the same boat as you, though whatever the hell Simon had done to him made his attention to you look like princess treatment, having obviously reigned himself in with you. Was that what Ghost was getting out of his system before coming back to you? Still, the scot didn’t seem to have many complaints after Simon sat him down between your legs on the couch, letting the sergeant lay facedown against the softest part of your stomach, where he’d nuzzled the hoodie out of the way so he could rest against your bare skin. It was then you noticed that you and Johnny were the only ones still in a state of undress which if your mind wasn’t moving at a snail’s pace, you might’ve tried to read into. 

Like you, he seemed half asleep and fucked out, a couple more bites around his neck that hadn’t been there the last time he’d been touching you. Soap’s mohawk gave you something to gently fidget with as Price nudged another bite against your lips. Simon took his seat on the floor, leaned back against the base of the couch with his head tipped back against the curve of your hip. One of his arms wrapped around the leg that Johnny had dangling off the couch, massaging gentle circles into the mans calf muscle. His other other arm was propped on his knee so he could catch your wrist where it flopped down on his shoulder. He was tender as he ran his ungloved hand over yours, massaging your fingers and comparing them to his much larger hands, murmuring himself, “No callouses.” 

“Told you, Si.” Johnny sighed almost dreamily into your bare stomach, leaning into your fingers in his hair. With the rest of the men doting on you and Johnny, Simon didn’t even retaliate or tease something back, just snickering quietly and fondly, offering straw topped water bottle to the sergeant. 

Another bite of food was offered to you, along with water, and something struck you funny, drawing a quiet chuckle out of you as you turned your face into Price’s neck to stifle the noise. It drew the group’s eyes, clearly waiting for you to divulge. “C’mon, hen, share with the class.” Johnny prompted with grin, always down for a laugh, propping his chin up on your belly so he could look at you through the valley of your cleavage, eyes shining like you’d hung the moon. 

“What’s on that pretty mind of yours?” Price rose his eyebrows, cutting another bite of meat for you. 

“Nothing, it’s dumb.” You snicker a little more, earning a expectant but amiable tug to your fingers from Simon, “It’s just all a little backwards, s’all.” 

“Backwards?” The liutenant parroted in that deep Manc accent, making you giggle a bit more, nodding against Price.

“I let y’all fuck me every which way from Tuesday, and you didn’t even buy me dinner first.”  You mused, ironically before taking another bite of one of the best steaks you’d ever had, which could be an effect of the post-sex endorphin rush, or maybe John was just a grill master. “Our apologies, sweet thing.” John rolled his eyes playfully, his apology deeply sarcastic as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“In our defense, dinner and a very nice bottle of wine were on the agenda before, but some people,” Gaz’s eyes flicked over to Johnny and Simon who didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Simon was stone faced as usual, still playing with and kissing at your fingers while Johnny just smiled into your belly, “got impatient.” 

“Hey, the first time Simon fucked me all I got was the drink mix and wet nap from his MRE.” Johnny whined which only made you laugh harder. 

“Y’didn’t ask for anything else.” Simon shrugged tilting his head to press an uncharacteristically romantic kiss to the curve of the Scot’s knee. “ ’sides, I got your mouth on her didn’t I? think I made up for it.”  And before you could question if Simon was really the one to orchestrate all of this, Price quieted you with a bite of potato while Gaz leaned over to distract you with his lips on your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, love.”

  And for the first time since you’d seen their search histories, you weren’t worried about much of anything other than when this might happen again.

 ____ 

me, who doesn’t ever really write smut: yes i will enjoy writing a fivesome with at least ten hands, five mouths, ten arms, and four penises to keep up with. 

Y’all should see the notesapp where I had to like draw out stick figures to see if what I was writing was anatomically possible. I feel like this has gotten me on some kind of watchlist. 

Taglist in Comments because there were too many of y'all!! Thanks to anyone who has commented, liked, and reblogged! Whenever I'm feeling uninspired, I just scroll through y'alls comments and they make me smile so so much!!!

[pixiel]

Old Tumblr Dashboard (Userstyle)!!

I created a Userstyle for the Chrome/Firefox Stylus Extension that reverts the new dashboard to the old look!

You need to have Stylus installed. So if you don't have it:

Install the Stylus Firefox Addon or the Manifest V2 Chrome Extension (You can install Chrome Extensions on Edge as well)

Once it's installed into Firefox/Chrome/Edge you can proceed with adding this style or any other.

To add the style (Stylus), follow the instructions:

Go to this link: https://userstyles.world/style/11286/old-tumblr-dashboard-userstyle

Click on "install".

Style will open a tag with it and in the left side you'll have a button that says "install style", click there. (Step-by-step copied from the lovely dorothyoz39 who wrote this in a reply!) If you don't want the sticky header you can remove the labelled script at the top of the css below /* Sticky Header*/

For Manifest V3 only Chrome Or Stylus incompatible browsers:

For Chrome Manifest V3 install the Tampermonkey Extension

Then add the Tampermonkey Backup Script instead of the Stylus version

https://greasyfork.org/en/scripts/492279-old-tumblr-dasboard-backup I highly recommend you switch to Firefox for continued use of good extensions! Stylus does not have a V3 update yet; however, the tamermonkey script works just as good.

Be sure to check for updates regularly and if you'd like, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi https://ko-fi.com/pixiel !

I'm currently taking donations so I can afford a much-needed wheelchair, so please check out my GoFundMe for more details! Any Ko-Fi donations will be added manually to the GoFundMe

..::::HOW TO UPDATE::::..

click the Manage button on Stylus and click the check for update button next to the userstyle, then click again to install!

Make sure to check the Userstyle and see if the version number matches the one below if you don't see any changes!

NEW UPDATE: 01/04/25 (D/M/Y)03:26AM BST v16.17

16.16: Fixed activity and notifications, they now look like the previous version 16.17: TEMPORARY UPDATE - only changes some aspects of the dashboard - THIS IS FULLY IMCOMPLETE AND I AM WORKING ON A FULL FIX FOR THE REST OF THE SITE You can also fix the positioning of the Communities button and subnav from this menu as well - it should remember your settings when you update!

v15.9: The Boopdate! V16.0: Fixed Search view pages and made them look normal, unfortunately, I can't bring back the dropdown menus for "top"/"All Time" etc - but it should look more like the original now v16.3: Minor tweaks to make search pages look better

Tumblr Post Width & More (OTD+ Userstyle) Is now available!!

OTD+ is an add on for Old Tumblr dashboard that you can use to edit the Post Width, Content Positioning & More - It must be used with Old Tumblr Dashboard installed as well on the latest update! This style might be merged with OTD in the future.

THE CREATOR OF THIS USERSTYLE SUPPORTS THEIR TRANS SISTERS. WE'RE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER!

Check the readmore for the changelog, custom code & known issues!

----- Known issues:

Only two columns in Masonry view. Semi-Unfixable, Tumblr creates columns based on monitor size, if I try adding another column (because it doesn't exist) it just perpetually loads on screen. Semi-fix: Zoom out in chrome/firefox and it adds more columns, you may need to change the font size of the page though

Search bar doesn't appear on some pages (like viewing a post), this is because Tumblr removed the search bar on those pages completely. Unfixable but not a big deal

Tumblr has ONCE AGAIN CHANGED THE ACCOUNTS MENU. The menus are now shorter and have less information on them. This is unfortunately permanent. I do not see any way to fix this. Unfixable.

If you want people's icons to stay fixed in place, instead of scrolling with the dashboard change this in Stylus;

Or if you're using the tampermonkey version

Find text:

.NLCTe > div.Evcyl > div > div > .So6RQ.YSitt > .ge_yK > .c79Av > article > header > .RYkKH > .nZ9l5 { pointer-events: auto; top: 55px; transition: top .25s; position: -webkit-sticky; position: sticky; } and replace it with;

.NLCTe > div.Evcyl > div > div > .So6RQ.YSitt > .ge_yK > .c79Av > article > header > .RYkKH > .nZ9l5 { pointer-events: auto; top: 0px; transition: top .25s; position: absolute; }

Solved issues: (Update)

Menus need to be manually closed SOLVED! in V.4 and updated in V.5! The menu & icon WILL scroll with you if you have removed the sticky header CSS, however, clicking anywhere on screen will make the Menu disappear still.

Masonry view in searches is now fixed!

Resized Messenger Chat Box!

NEW UPDATE 16/08/23, 23:55 BST v6.5: Figured out how to reorganise the icons in the header. Let me know if you have any problems with it and make sure to update your Userstyle! Some icons are hidden with Display: Block; you can hide more icons with this method!

Solved issues p2

Brought back SOME of the icons for Tumblrs latest update - Unfortunately, this does not bring back user icons for Reblogged posts! Make sure to yell at Tumblr for removing the icons as well as the horrible dashboard update here! v7.5 Fixed icons for all posts and put them back where they came from!

v6.9.6.9 (I promise this is the last funny number): Fuck Off Buggy The Clown Update + All languages support for the old header design!

v7.0: Fixed the search bar for tumblrs new collections feature, so it looks like the original search bar!

v8.0: Fixed masonry view icons, hidden the reblog icon on dashboard icons, fixed icons in blog viewport

V8.1: Fixed issue with icons not working on soft-refresh & with endless scrolling disabled - be sure to complain to staff!

v9.3: Changed a few things with the search feature, I also made the posts less round.

UPDATE2 11/04/2024: SO We mighhtttt have overrun their servers. 😅 I'm getting a 500 Internal Server Error every time I try to fix it or upload it as a new style - the massive influx of people downloading the userstyle was probably too much. The Tampermonkey backup on Greasyfork works just fine though! Probably easier for a lot of people migrating anyway! UPDATE 11/04/2024:: My code has broken on Userstyles.world, (it is now fixed as of 12/04/24) until this is fixed I have created a Tampermonkey Backup Version of the Userstyle so feel free to use this version if you've broken yours!

https://greasyfork.org/en/scripts/492279-old-tumblr-dasboard-backup

v9.6: Moved the Following | For you | Your Tags to below the create a post panel. Fixed the Accounts Menu! + Bugfixes V10.3: Patio compatibility. Added a way to hide the Patio button & "patio feedback?" button, just search for patio in the code and follow the instructions! v11.0: Temporary Chat feature fix after Tumblr broke it, fixed some positioning issues and j/k scrolling!

v12.3: Fixed a text issue (my bad!), I undid the changes to the replies function and added a way to fix icons order for when you get the communities update!

v12.5: Update to make compatible with the Content Positioning using Tumblr Post Width & More (OTD+ Userstyle) v12.6: Post buttons fixed, icons unable to be fixed yet as I haven't got the tumblr changes just yet - but I will fix them asap!

v11.7: Communities Update, changed the new search bar on communities page to resemble the old one. The search bar still doesn't work on these pages yet for some reason. Blog view icons fixed. v13.0: The icons change should now have a working patchfix! BIG THANK YOU to arcadian-asgardian for sending me the screenshots I needed and testing if it worked. + Minor tweak, communities button resized to fit the rest of the icons better v13.2: Mini fixes now that I have better access to the new changes! Communities icon re-centered, usernames nudged back into place.

V13.5 & v13.7: Nuked the Go Premium button - Re-positioned the search bar on search pages v13.10: Changed a lot of the new look for replies - it's not perfect yet mind. Small bug with the "..." menu moving to the left with shorter replies. Looks a lot more like the old replies section though! Made it possible to remove the reply to reply button just search for "NEW Replies UI" in the userstyle and remove the /* */ around "display: none" OR use Ublock to block the element! v14.1: Reverted the "Original Poster" border + text to look like old version. Edit: Whoops, fixed an issue with showing the timestamps

v13.4: Added a way to fix the communities icon position if you don't have the New Xkit button or have hidden any of the icons. Just remove the highlighted /* */ pair in the code for what you need.

v14.11: Made Premium Perks button available in the bottom left corner for all premium users v15.2: Fixed the Tumblr fuckup AND added a cool new feature that allows you to customise the look of your header & hide the reply-to-replies button if you like, here's how to customise this. Set to "Block" if you want the button/icon visible, Set to "None" if you want it hidden! V15.5: Given labels to options for clarity - now says 'show' or 'hide'! 16.10: Fix changes to the notification icons 16.14: Fixed many issues with Tampermonkey Version - including a bug that makes the header go weird when you click on a post, fixed notification icons in small view

[aphrvdisiac]

TO LIE AND LOVE LIKE YOU DO.

ellie williams & abby anderson x fem!reader.

part two of off to the races.

summary — it’s been months since you ran away from the loves of your life. you think you have escaped them forever — only for them to return, with a sick game of cat and mouse coming into play as they remind you just how much you belong to them.

warning tags — adult language. extremely dark content; m*rder, stalking, possessive and obsessive behavior, threats of kidnapping, lowkey blackmail (?), threats made with a weapon. strong adult content; slapping, spitting, double penetration, edging, mommy and daddy kink(s), gun play, bondage, threesomes.

author’s message — let me know if i forgot any important missing tags for this. please proceed with caution as this part is extremely heavier than the first part; ellie and abby are so not nice in here, and it gets dark pretty quickly.

“Where the fuck could she have gone?” Abby asked, her and Ellie frantically searching the penthouse. “She knows better than to turn off her location, or leave unannounced.”

“She was just here, sleeping and resting,” Ellie stated, and their panic was overcomed with frustration and anger instead. You knew that if you went anywhere without them, that you had to tell them exactly where and your location could never go off.

They would chip you if they could. They have thought about it numerous times.

Ellie’s phone rang, and she grabbed it out of her back pocket, noticing Joel’s contact. “Hello?” She answered, irritation playing into her tone. “What’s goin’ on, Joel?”

“The police are heading to your place,” Joel said, and Ellie put the call on speaker. “I don’t know what you two have done this time, but it is bad and I am not helpin’ out with any clean ups.”

“What are you talking about?” Ellie asked.

“I’m not some moron, Ellie!” He yelled, and she rolled her eyes. “They know you killed someone. They know your girlfriend was with you, too. I called her, and asked questions.”

“You did what?” Abby shouted. “Joel, what the fuck!”

That’s how they knew you had run away from them. You were a timid and easily frightened individual, and now that you were aware of what they had done, you scurried away and were going to hide. The pair knew they had some time to track you down to your home.

“Fuck off, Joel,” Ellie cursed, ending the call. “We have time to get her, to make up a story or whatever. We can avoid the police for the night?”

They agreed to find you and explain everything, to lure you back to them as they assured that there was nothing to worry about.

Abby’s eyes go wide. “The shirt.”

Ellie cursed under her breath, running to the closet and into the hamper — only to find the shirt completely gone. You had taken it, and now many possibilities surged through their heads.

“It’s gone!” Ellie yelled, and before the two could leave the penthouse to go to you, two detectives walked in.

The amusing yet realistic part of everything is that even though they knew that you thought you had gotten away for good, they were preparing on how to get you back, and never be able to escape again.

You had a particular interest in Philosophy during high school.

You loved to read the knowledge these scholar men would try to pass on, what they had to say about life, beauty, or death. You wanted to understand their wisdom, their perspective of all things, of everything around them, and how they got to a certain point about it.

You remembered a certain quote from Plato, of how Zeus feared the power of two humans mending together as one, leaving them with four arms, four legs, a head with two faces on it. However, he was so threatened by this that he split them into two, and left them to wander Earth to find each other again.

You had believed in that quote when Ellie and Abby entered your life. These two girls, the most threatening pair, would put a grand shift on your life, and how you perceived it as. They utterly shifted your world, they took you in, and prioritized your needs.

You were worshiped by them.

You couldn’t see beyond the horizon of the world without them there, and in your isolation, you still didn’t know how to.

More than sixty-five days since your departure, leaving them behind, and not hearing a single word from them.

When you came to your parent’s villa, your mother opened the door, and you sobbed into her arms, clutching onto her. She hugged you, stroked your hair, and didn’t know if she should’ve spoken or not.

Your tears soaked into her shirt, and she had to nearly drag you inside, afraid of what was happening with you.

“My dear, what’s going on?” She asked, clear to see the exhausted look on your face, your eyes bloodshot as she sat you both down on the couch. “I haven’t seen you like this in a while.”

“I just… Abby and Ellie,” you sobbed, heavily breathing, and shook your head, still in denial of what they did. “I just need to be here for a while. I’m going to transfer to Oxford.”

“You already decided on Columbia,” your mother stated, and you continued to cry, earning a sigh out of her. “You can’t just drop it now.”

You wanted to scream, “they might kill me if I return. They may never let me go after that.” You knew that they were combing through New York, probably already onto their next target — you knew the lengths they would go to just to have you back.

That was something you couldn’t fucking stomach.

“Mom, please,” you whispered, your voice jagged and shaky. “I just can’t go back to the city.” You stared up at her, and she cradled your face in her hands for a moment before nodding, and let you rest your head on her lap.

“Okay, love. You can stay here,” she assured, rubbing your back, and let you sob until you finally calmed down and fell asleep.

The next morning, your father was telling you about Abby and Ellie, wondering if you had any idea about it.

“They’re in deep shit,” he said, glaring at you. “What are you not telling us?”

“I don’t know anything, dad!” You denied, and your mother stood aside, arms folded. “Joel already asked me the same things that you are! I don’t remember shit from that night!”

“So you were there?” Your dad asked, and you fell quiet. He took your silence as an answer, sighing heavily and rubbed his temple in frustration. “You weren’t with any one of them? At all?”

“I… Ellie gave me some coke,” you confessed, guilt reeling into you as you were partially lying, and throwing her under the rug. “I was having a tough night after this guy was harassing me, and after she gave it to me, I was left with Dina and Jesse.”

An exasperated sigh came from your mother, simply frustrated that you had been doing drugs. You were never going to be her perfect daughter, and you didn’t know how long it was going to take until she accepted that fact.

Your dad took a minute to process this information before grabbing your shoulders, and forcing you to look at him. “From here on out, you know nothing. Do you understand me?”

You nodded, and he brought you into a hug, coddling the back of your head. Your father’s affection was never this tender or earnest, and you knew he was only being protective for the family image, but you didn’t care for that — your father was holding you for the first time since you were eleven.

You had to change your phone number, deactivate any social media you had, and new butlers, maids, and chauffeurs were put into place. Your parents allowed you to move to London a month later, staying in a comfortable flat, but were patrolled by bodyguards in answer to your paranoia.

After your readjustment to life, you prevented yourself from hearing anything Abby or Ellie, or if they were at trial. You needed to focus on yourself, get your shit together, and focus on your classes at Oxford.

A few months into the new school, you kept your head low and isolated — something you were used to doing when at Faye Academy, before they made themselves stuck in your existence.

You considered taking your courses online, but knew you’d only lose your mind being stuck in your flat for days on end.

All in four months, your life was granted something that you’d forgotten — freedom.

Not that Abby and Ellie were extremely possessive, but you haven't known anyone besides them in a while. You were able to make friends at Oxford, go out to bars and diners, without the fear they may kill someone who even breathed in your general direction.

It was a relief. And you felt human again.

Your parents constantly checked in on you, and often tried to visit. It was the first time in a while since they hovered over you, and were concerned for your well being.

“Yes, mom. I’m fine,” you assured over the phone, the device stuck between your shoulder and ear as you were returning your textbooks. “I finished classes early, so I was thinking of going back to Milan for semester break.”

“Well, honey, you see,” your mother started off, clearing her throat. “Your father and I were going to attend a gala tomorrow; Joel is throwing it.”

“I thought you guys cut him off,” you said, rushing out of the library, and to your car. “Especially after everything.”

There was silence.

“Mom?”

“Ellie and Abby were found not guilty,” she said, and your heart sank to your stomach. “The trial concluded yesterday— we didn’t want to say anything.”

You froze in your tracks. “What?”

“They didn’t kill that boy. I guess he had enemies all along,” she continued, and your head spun. “If you come with us, they won’t be there. Joel assured us of it.”

“So everything is just fine now because they’re innocent?” You questioned.

“Honey, you’re acting as if you know something,” she stated, and you exasperatingly sighed, continuing your walk to your vehicle. “But Jerry and Joel did say they were going to get the girls in contact with a psychiatrist.”

“Huh, and why is that?”

“I’m not sure,” she muttered, and you hopped into your car, locking the doors. “Would you like to come? And maybe we can then spend a few days in the city. Shop around Fifth.”

“I’ll think about it, momma. Still unsure about the city,” you said, and she sighed, visibly exasperated with your nerves. “I just don’t want an accidental run in with the girls.”

“You guys were so close,” she remembered. “I don’t know what happened, but I hope you all make up soon; they were the best part of your life.”

“Bye, mom,” is all you said, hanging up the call, and tossed your phone into the passenger seat, along with your book bag. You heavily sighed, staring blankly out into the parking lot.

They were the best part of your life.

They were the tragedy of you. They were Hell masked as Heaven, where their lure was nothing more than a ticket to damnation.

Yet, all of them were bestowed to you. You were their alter, their religion, the only reason as to why they believed in life, as you did with them.

But in your time of being free from their grasp, you could breathe, and find a newer light where nothing could dim it.

Your phone dinged, and your eyes snapped over to it, hands fiddling for the device. You opened up the lock screen to see a message from a random number.

Unknown: Image Attached.

You swallowed thickly, your hands numbing as you unlocked your phone and went to the conversation.

It was a picture of you from last night, hanging out with your friend, Delilah. She was someone you had been fond of since attending Oxford, and you had gotten close to her.

Unknown: Cute girl.

R: Who the fuck is this???

Unknown: Didn’t know running made you so dumb.

Nausea washed over you, and fear rattled in your bones.

Unknown: Hi, little lamb. You miss us?

R: I’ll call the police.

Unknown: I’ll tell them you tampered with evidence. We wouldn’t want that, right? Pretty baby like you isn’t suitable for jail time.

R: You would go down with me.

Unknown: You betrayed us. What makes you think we wouldn’t betray you?

You wanted to break your phone on your steering wheel, and you searched the outside of your car, checking your surroundings. There were only a few students, and it was still light outside.

But you knew they were watching you.

Unknown: You run again, and we will find you.

R: Why now?

Unknown: Had some troubles along the way, baby. But we took our time keeping tabs on you. Oxford treating you nice? How’s every bitch who fucks you?

R: You’re stalking me?

Unknown: You really are fucking stupid.

R: Don’t think I won’t get a restraining order against you.

Unknown: Why would you want that, little lamb? After everything we have done for you? Didn’t take you for an ungrateful brat, you know. We have been there when you needed us, taken care of you, dealt with people for you.

R: You mean murder people.

Unknown: Mhm.

Unknown: Be careful, honey. Scary world we live in.

You tried to send another message, but it wouldn’t go through. “What the fuck, what the fuck!” You screamed, going to your phone contacts, and bringing your phone up to your ear.

“Miss, are you alright?” Carson asked. He had been your personal bodyguard since you moved to London, and was respectful of when you wanted to be alone. “Are you in danger?”

“I need my house and the surrounding area to be checked out,” you said, reviving your car engine, and pressed on the gas. “Check for any sort of security cameras, too. Tell Rosaline to pack a suitcase for me as well, I’m heading to Los Angeles.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Carson answered, the call dropping, and you put your phone in your lap. You were trying not to get into a car accident on your way back to your flat, but you needed to leave the city immediately. You were just happy you finished your courses on time, and you didn’t need to worry about your education for a while.

About to reach home, your phone started to buzz in your lap. You pulled over to the side to look at the contact, only for it to be unknown again.

You hesitated on answering, just wanting to let it ring through, but a part of you wanted to know what sick agenda they had planned out for you. You knew they weren’t going to stop, that they needed you vulnerable and scared in order for them to pounce at you at the perfect moment; just like a prey and predator situation.

A game of cat and mouse.

You accepted the call, putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Hi, bunny,” you heard Abby’s voice, and your head spun. It had been so long since you heard either girl's voice, that you frowned at the sound of it, and almost how comforting it could be. “Missed you.”

“Abby…” you whispered out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I… You both need to stop this.”

“Why, bun? You don’t like it?” She asked.

“You and Ellie killed Brandon, and probably many others,” you told her, sniffling as tears carelessly dropped out of your eyes. “I know you thought you were doing the right thing, but murder is wrong.”

“You have the shirt, bunny,” Abby stated, and you went quiet. “Why would you do that, hm? If you really wanted to dispose and run from us, you would’ve left it behind, or turned it over to the police.”

You couldn’t tell her your logic or reasoning behind taking the shirt. It even sounded unreal to you, unbelievable, given the circumstances, and how you ran off.

“I couldn’t help but think of what would happen if you both went to prison,” you admitted, hot water running down your cheeks. “I… You and Ellie protected me, and I thought it was only fair I returned the favor. But that didn’t mean I wanted you in my life again.”

Abby hummed. “And why is that?”

“I’m free,” you muttered, inhaling sharply. “You and her wanted to keep me in a cage, keep me locked up forever. You have done it ever since you stepped into my life, and I couldn’t see it until that evening.”

“You make it sound so horrible, bunny,” she breathily chuckled, able to hear Ellie’s own laughter roughly in the background. “Let me ask you again; who’s going to put up with you? Who was fucking there when Miranda Rhodes was fucking spilling rumors about you having eating disorders? Who the fuck handled Timothy Yales after he said he had sex with you after Winter formal?”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT!” You shouted, millions of emotions flooding over you, and taking you at once, drowning “I never once fucking told you or Ellie to go out of your way to do that shit! I can fucking handle myself, and being away from you both has proved that.”

“Oh, bunny. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Abby stated, sharp and clear with you. She talked as if you were dumb, that you were about out of your mind.

You could nearly burst apart, everything of you filled with terror and rage. You weren’t sure if they expected you to bow at their feet for all their maniacal endeavors they willingly decided to partake in, but you weren’t going to.

You had come this far without them, you had managed to escape them for a good time, and you weren’t planning on stopping everything now. You weren’t going to surrender your freedom and life all for them, all because you knew what they were, and what they could do.

“If I have to turn in that shirt to make sure I never see either of you ever again, I will,” you said, and hung up the call, dropping your phone back into your lap, and continued to drive back home.

The moment your car was parked, you rushed up the stairs of the building, and bursted through your front door. Your guards were all there, Rosaline getting finished up with your second suitcase as Carson approached you from the side.

“Miss, we have searched the area,” he stated, following you while you walked into your bedroom. “We found no sort of threat, especially here. I have called your family’s plane to be prepped and ready for take off to Los Angeles.”

“Carson, please close the door,” you said, sitting down on the edge of your naked bed. He listened, shutting it, leaving you and him in your bedroom as you looked up at him. “I need to ask a question, and this stays between us. Do you get that?”

“Of course, ma’am. I am under your and your parents serving,” he reassured, keeping himself near the door, a secure radius between the both of you.

“Is it possible for me to avoid the law? Few months ago, I may or may have not tampered with evidence,” you blurted, and he inhaled heavily, but nodded, tuned in with you. “My reason is so stupid, but I’m regretting keeping it in my possession, and I don’t want to anymore.”

“Well, what is it?” He wondered.

“A shirt,” you began, and he cocked his head to the side. “With blood on it. Someone’s blood who isn’t mine, because my ex-girlfriends in New York beat this dude who was harassing me.”

“And you want to turn this in now?” Carson asked, and you nodded. “Okay, miss. I’m going to see what I can do, and once I do, you can hand it over to me.”

“Thank you so much, Carson,” you smiled, standing up. “Now, let’s head to the city of angels.”

You had your own bungalow at the Chateau Marmont. It was cozy and spacious, everything to your liking, but only stayed at it when you wanted to escape home. You had once brought Abby and Ellie, and to that, you had to undergo a whole alias, and a different room.

You didn’t have much anxiety about being at Chateau, you were packed with protection, and knew the pair wouldn’t make so much time or risks since their trial had concluded, also sure that Abby understood your threat about the shirt.

You had flown late into the night, it was about three in the morning of the next day, and you were drained with exhaustion. Sleep was becoming you, yet you were on high alert, and couldn’t help but to keep checking your phone.

You worried that there would be another call, or a text; that they weren’t quite finished with their game. In your isolation, you had much time to mull over Abby and Ellie, the things they were capable of, or the people they were.

You knew blood and carnage were them. Their beauty and charm was a simple mask that only you were able to see past as violence and cruelty rotted in their souls. Maybe they couldn’t help how callous and aggressive they could be, but they lived off of it; it was all they were. There was nothing to stop them, nothing that could change them.

In a sense, you assumed your presence and soul balanced them out well — you were a complete polar opposite to them, and that’s what stood out to people at Faye Academy.

They were terrorizing, vicious females, standing with you — a loving, and free-spirited person who didn’t do much, and just kept to herself. Nobody understood or could comprehend it, but that didn't matter to them — you were the solace in their life.

You knew that they were still rough with people — mostly men — in high school, but you didn’t know you were the cause behind each act of violence that they performed. But it made sense, even as you built a timeline.

There was Teresa Doles; she had nitpicked at your appearance for weeks. When you had finally gone to Ellie and Abby about it, pictures of her partying, doing drugs, and medical records of her being in rehab had been leaked everywhere. Her family came from a prestigious lineage, and her reckless behavior put a great indent to it. She had to move to England.

Jonathan White had to be admitted to the hospital after an event for the school. Doctors said they found traces of drugs and poison in his system — which made you laugh because he said he would murder you for rejecting him for Junior prom. You recall him shouting at you, calling you a series of derogatory names, but paid no mind. Ellie and Abby weren’t happy when he told you such a thing.

Kayla Lynn was sent to the ER after her body had been found beaten and bloody in the bathroom. She was barely conscious, unrecognizable to those who found her — the doctors had to pull a tooth and fingerprints from her just to get an ID. You remembered how she bullied you for liking girls, calling you derogatory names, and even said she hoped you would be killed for it.

And you knew there just had to be more than those people. So many of your bullies either switched schools, dropped off the face of Earth, or were in physical therapy after you had told Abby and Ellie about what each of those people did to you.

You were too gullible and head over heels in love with the duo to know they were doing so much behind your back. You had been completely tuned in with love and the relationship, all you saw was them as your blessing.

They meant it when they said they would do anything for you.

“We handled it,” Ellie’s voice would play in your head from that morning. It would repeat itself like a broken record, never shutting up.

We handled it.

We handled it.

We murdered someone.

You didn’t know exactly why the murder scared you, or what provoked you to exactly take the shirt.

You were about to close your eyes until a knock tapped at your door. “Ma’am, it’s Carson,” he said, and you welcomed him in, sitting up on your bed.

You turned on the nightstand's lamp, and he gave you a small smile. “I found a way to submit the evidence without it being traced to you,” Carson said, and your heartbeat went still. “If only you’re wanting to give up the shirt, of course.”

“Well, that was quick,” you nervously laughed, staring down at your lap. “What’s the plan to turn it in?”

“I have trusted connections to the NYPD. Some officers work as guards like I do,” Carson reassured, and you hummed, chewing on your lower lip. “We can send the shirt to them as anonymous, and you won’t have to worry about the shipping coming back to you; it’ll be under my name.”

“Are you positive about that?”

“Absolutely, ma’am,” he said, and your body trembled, mind hazy. You knew it would be the moral thing to do; the guy harassed you, but Ellie and Abby could’ve done anything else besides murder.

The only murder you were aware of, of course.

These girls protected and defended you and your name. They would put the world on fire, yet never let a flame brush on your skin; they were the poisonous paradise you couldn’t see as Heaven or Hell.

You had to release them, though. You needed to grow up without them by your side, because you were more than them, and they were more than you.

And if the shirt didn’t get them anywhere, at least it was out of your grasp.

You got up from your bed, padding over to your suitcase and opened it up. You grabbed a brown paper bag, and held it close to your chest. “Please make sure I don’t get in trouble for this,” you said, pleading eyes looking into Carson’s soft ones.

He could tell you were beyond frightened. That you were just someone who didn’t mean to do this, that your kind heart thought you were doing something right.

You had absolutely nothing to do with this crime, but somehow, you looked ashamed and guilty as if you did. In a sense, you were — you called Abby about the guy, you knew very well what she was capable of. It was no secret how violent and cruel Abby and Ellie could be — physically or emotionally.

“You’re safe with me,” Carson promised, and you smiled small, hesitantly handing him the bag. “Are you sure about this?”

The bag was out of your hold, Carson grasping onto it. “They need to learn their lesson,” you said, all your logic and thoughts mixed up in your head, utterly brainless at this given rate. “And I just want them to stay out of my life for good.”

He just nodded, taking the bag with him as he exited the room, leaving you alone again.

You couldn’t sleep after that. You couldn’t even try to rest knowing you were going to ruin their lives, putting into consideration all they did for you.

But, you had just regained your freedom, discovered who you were without them. You were able to make friends without their eyes boring into your soul, you could live in peace.

You couldn’t accept anymore threats or violence, just so you could remain theirs forever. Because you knew if they truly loved you, they wouldn’t put you in harm's way.

You stared blankly at the ceiling, trapped in your mind when your phone had a sudden ring to it. Your heart stopped, and you froze, your body wanting to sink into the mattress.

You let your phone ring through, letting silence fall pass after the noise stopped.

Not even a minute ticked by as the phone rang again.

You reached for your device, answering the call and brought it up to your ear. “What?”

“So much attitude, little lamb. You’re going to hurt my feelings,” Ellie's voice came through, and you sighed, sitting up. “I’m starting to like this game. Because I know you’re fucking scared.”

You scoffed. “No I’m not. I’m just wanting you to leave me alone.”

“You can’t deal with the idea of what might happen if we catch you,” she began, and shivers cascaded on your body, holding in your breath. “You want to keep running, baby? I don’t mind the chase— it’s exhilarating.”

“You’re fucking sick.”

“You knew that, bunny,” Abby joined in, taking over the call. “Why are you acting so surprised? You fucking got off on how insane we got about you, don’t act clueless now.”

“I was naive,” you retorted. “I was manipulated and blinded by you two.”

“Manipulated? Big idea for you to get at,” she continued, and you heard Ellie’s cruel laugh in the background of the call. “You knew what you were doing when coming to us about your bullies. You knew what we all would get out of it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you muttered.

“You liked us hurting you too, bunny,” she stated, and your breaths were becoming uneven. “Always in skimpy outfits, flirting with others to get our attention. We fucking saw through you. You’re just as sick as us.”

“Shut the fuck up, Abigail!”

“Using my full name? I’m so frightened,” Abby chuckled, amused and lightened by your poor intimidation act. “Got me shaking in my boots here, sweetheart.”

“I hope you die— both of you.”

“God forbid, right? Then who’ll take care of you?” Ellie returned into the conversation. “Not even that Delilah bitch could do it. Or Holly, Nicole, Emily, Zaya— no one.”

You fell quiet for a moment, your eyes widened in disbelief. “How do you know them?”

“Baby, we told you this,” Ellie reminded you, sighing. “If you were to leave us, we would get you again.”

You zipped your mouth, anxiety surging through you.

“Having fun at the Marmont?” Ellie asked, and you shot up from your bed. “Nice name you got— Emily Dickinson. Really… that name?”

“You’re fucking here?” You asked.

Ellie snickered. “Always in your corner.”

“I have people here, patrolling—“

“Oh, we get it, you fucking princess!” She yelled. “We know you have men, we aren’t idiots. For a valedictorian, you are sure fucking dense. You think you’re always one step ahead, but you aren’t.”

“Fuck you, Williams,” you sneered.

“See you real soon, lamb,” she said, and the call ended. You knew there was no point in trying to reach the number again, it was unknown and a useless line.

Ellie and Abby stood at the top of the hotel, Delilah beaten as cable ties strapped her wrists behind her back. “Alright, you bitch,” Abby picked up Delilah from the ground, adjusting the feeble girl on her feet.

“She’s…. she’ll hate you for this,” Delilah croaked out. “And no one will believe I’ve jumped to my death.” Her head was spinning, barely conscious enough to process what these two random, strange women wanted with her, or why they cared so much. She swore a second ago she was in her flat, sound asleep and relaxed, and now she was on top of the roof of the Chateau Marmont.

None of this made sense.

“We are going to share this little secret with you since you will be dying,” Ellie said, taking out a cigarette from her pocket. “You’re not the first person who has pleaded for their life, or thought their death wouldn’t be convincing. We do this all for her, and unfortunately, she does enjoy it.”

Delilah shook her head. “No, no. You don’t know her whatsoever.”

“She brought you here to your death, sweet Delilah,” Ellie continued on, puffing out a blow. “She knows that whoever tries to steal or touch her, will be either beaten or killed by us.”

“She wanted you dead,” Abby added, and Delilah broke into hysterical sobs. “And we do give our girl whatever she wants.”

Ellie cut off the cable ties, and Abby maneuvered the frail girl over to the ledge. “Anything else you need to say, honey?” Abby asked, and Delilah’s lips parted, prepared to speak. “I don’t give a shit,” the blonde said, pushing her off as her and Ellie watched attentively, grinning to themselves as Delilah’s body splat on the concrete, blood making a river around herself.

It wasn’t long until your guards were shouting, and there were sirens in the distance.

“Ma’am, there’s been an incident on the grounds,” Carson bursted into your room, and you swallowed thickly, your phone grasped in your hands.

You threw on a robe and your slippers, pushing your way through the men. “Let me go!” You shouted, Carson being the one to shove them off. “I need to see what happened outside!”

“It’s for your safety that you don’t!” One of the men, Jackson, protested, but Carson seized your arm, and tugged you outside by your bicep.

“We listen to her,” he reminded the group as they all followed you outside. You could hear a wave of voices and distress, police officers talking to one another. In your gut, you knew something wasn’t right, and you were overwhelmed with nausea.

The noise drew you closer to the entrance of the hotel, where a symphony of shouts were clattering, and police lights mixed into the moon’s gleam. A part of you told yourself to get back into your abode, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your feet tugged your forward, curiosity tingling in your body.

You shoved yourself through a heavy crowd, officers trying to get everyone to back away or stop filming what was happening.

“Excuse me!” You yelled, and pulled yourself further in.

You regretted listening to yourself for another time. Fiery and stressed voices shifted into echoes, banging off the earth’s walls, your eyes struck open by a corpse splashed on the pavement.

Your heart beated in your throat, vomit coating it, and knots twisted in your stomach.

Delilah.

Delilah was on the ground. In front of you.

Your brain didn’t dare register any part of the gory, morbid scene that was plastered in front of you. Blood pooled around her head, her scalp visibly cracked open and her eyes open. You swore she was staring at you, everything in you shaking and trembling with great fear.

“Ma’am, get back!” An officer shouted at you, taking you out of your trance. “Please, this is a crime scene!”

“I… I know her,” you stated, and Carson approached your side. “That’s my friend— her name is Delilah Morse.”

“Please sir, let us get through,” Carson chimed in, and the officer sighed, shaking his head. “This is someone she knows. Only she’ll give you details.”

The officer went to discuss with another official, and your hand buzzed. You flinched to it, not realizing you kept your phone in your hold.

You received a message from Unknown.

Unknown: Want to keep playing, baby?

Unknown: Look at you, so scared and sick. It’ll stop once you give up.

A tear from you covered the screen, and Carson had to push you out of your stare. “Ma’am, let’s go,” he said, and you had not realized the officer was holding up the caution tape to let you through.

You heard a female’s voice come to the side of you. “I’m Detective Anna Blake. What’s your name, and relationship to the victim, miss?”

You stated your name, your voice hush and shaky as you couldn’t look away from Delilah’s body.

“And your relationship?” Anna asked.

“We… I was her friend,” you answered. “What… what did she do?”

“It looks like an apparent suicide,” she responded, and that was enough for her to gain your full attention, a confused expression plastered on your face. “She dropped from the rooftop, and ate it right here.”

“That can’t be,” you shook your head. “Delilah wasn’t at all suicidal, or had any ideations. She was the most positive person I knew.”

“Yeah, but people have personas,” Anna stated, and you furrowed your brows. “She could’ve been acting for you, and everyone else.”

“She’s from London, Detective,” you said, and she stared at you appalled, but intrigued. “She wouldn’t kill herself here.”

Anna was quiet for a sparse second. “Huh… do you know something we don’t?”

Why couldn’t you just shut the fuck up?

There was an open entrance for the vehicles to come through, and for a moment, you swore you saw Ellie and Abby standing across the street.

You knew their silhouettes. And they were watching you, witnessing their crime.

You stared at them back, because now you accepted the truth that no matter where you ran off, that would be there. They would create mess and murder back to back until you gave up the running, and realized you only belonged to them.

Fear was a disease in you, and the only way to kill it was to face them.

Your mother wanted you back in New York. She gave you no choice but to attend the Gala with her and your father.

You tried your best to talk your way out of it, explaining that you had just witnessed your best friend’s corpse the previous evening.

Your mother said the Gala would be a great distraction. You tried to make any point or excuse to stay home, until your father had himself step into the argument. He tended to never insert himself into fights with you and your mom, but this time he felt the need to, and that’s when you were left with no choice.

Of course, your main concern was that Ellie and Abby were going to be there, and confronting them was going to be an inevitable situation. You had to prepare yourself the most as to what to say or do if they were to be in your eye radius.

“This dress is killing me,” you muttered, patting down the bottom part of the simple, yet elegant dress you wore. “And the corset of this is smashing my boobs.”

“Your dress is lovely, dear,” your mother assured, and you scowled. “You have always loved long dresses like this; so long at the bottom, we can’t even see your heels. And you always adored sleeveless corset tops on them, too!”

“You look perfect, honey. You wore this exact dress for junior prom,” your dad reminded, and you shivered to the memory of it. Abby and Ellie were your escort — of course — and everyone adored your dress, even making it into a page in Vogue because it was Vivienne Westwood.

“I just… I don’t want to see them,” you muttered, and the limousine came to a halt. “And it just doesn’t feel right being here, having fun and socializing, when my friend just fucking died.”

“Cherie, Delilah’s death was not your fault or anything,” your mother said, and you glared at her. “It is unfortunate it took place at the same time you were there, but she was just an unhappy girl.”

You didn’t want to converse with her anymore, only getting out of the car before any of them, and were immediately blinded by flashing lights. Your parents stood behind you, and you fixed up a promising smile, making your way into the gala.

The second cameras and screaming men were out of your way, you hunted down a busboy for a glass of champagne. “I will take that!” You grabbed the drink from the silver tray, thanking the man, and earned a groan from your parents.

“Can you at least greet people before you get wasted?” Your father asked, and you shrugged, letting him drag you over to the familiar faces of Jerry Anderson and Joel Miller. You hadn’t seen them since the few days before the murder.

“Ah, there she is!” Jerry exclaimed, and you exchanged a cheek kiss with him, and Joel. “We heard you moved to London. Oxford, right?”

“Yes. It’s been quite delightful,” you shortly shared. “I finished exams early, so I came back into town for the meantime.”

“And do you plan to catch up with the girls?” Joel asked.

You knew at that moment that no one quite understood what really took place that night, and you would never confess to it. They all blindly assumed that there was a great falling out in response to the murder of Brandon James, that you simply didn’t tolerate that behavior, and in some parts of that, it was true.

You had no place or reason to tell the whole truth, or to be honest, when there was an exact, appropriate place to share such a thing. Yet however, if you did, no one would believe you — there was no evidential proof or key to say that Ellie and Abby killed him.

They thought the girls were saints, who were being wronged by another higher power.

The actual case would have them dropping to the ground, and you couldn’t exactly say, “Abby and Ellie are sadistic killers who get off to the pain and torture.”

God fucking forbid, though.

“I’m not so sure,” you answered, taking a light sip of your champagne. “I want to keep to myself for the meantime, and make more goals for my future.”

“Well, if they came tonight, I’m sure it would’ve been lovely,” Jerry said, and you dryly laughed with them.

Champagne wasn’t enough to fill the hollow in you. You needed the strongest shit to exist at the bar.

You had a clear cue to let yourself leave their conversation, leaving you alone in the event. You went to the bar, and sat there, requesting a martini. You put your clutch purse in front of you, and sighed heavily, a migraine coming to your head.

You weren’t used to going to these high class functions by yourself — hell, you didn’t even go until the girls became a part of your life, and would be by your side at each and every one of them. It made your parents happy that they were there to tug you out of your shell, make you more extroverted.

A figure sat at the chair next to you, yet you didn’t pay any mind to it.

Until they said your name, and the voice was familiar.

Your eyes flickered to the side, and you saw Dina. Your eyes widened, your body directing toward her, and she smiled. “How have you been!” She cheered, pulling you into a hug, and you could only hug back. “You fell off the face of planet Earth!”

“Oh, yeah,” you broke the hug, facing her. “I… I decided to do school at Oxford. I just needed to get out of the city.”

“Oxford is nice,” she said, smiling small. “Jesse and I were worried about you. The girls said you had broken up with them.”

You gawked at her in disbelief as she went on to order herself a drink.

Who else was fucking clueless?

“Well, I guess,” you mumbled, your martini set down in front of you. “We just had issues we couldn’t resolve from the night before.”

“Oh shit, that sucks,” she sighed, shaking her head. “The breakup must have been terrible to have you move to London.”

Her glass of tequila on rocks came to her as she took a refreshing sip of it, and you were about to claw out your eyes. Either she had brain damage, was lying, or truly wasn’t aware of what occurred that night, but must have since it happened at Jesse’s club.

“Dina Woodward, be fucking serious with me,” you said, and she raised a brow. “You know what happened. That night.”

She blankly stared at you.

“That night… at your boyfriend’s club…”

Dina shrugged, and you were taken aback. “Jesse must know, then.”

“Ellie and Abby were accused of a serious crime,” she began, and you bitterly scoffed, “which they were found innocent to. They had to go through that trial alone, they went through Hell without you.”

“They killed him, Dina,” you told her, yet lowered your voice due to the gossip crowd that circulated. “You cannot seriously be defending them.”

“I’m not defending them,” Dina stated, and you rolled your eyes, downing your martini. “They have plenty of enemies, and you know that, too. Everyone wants to see them at their absolute worst, and do their own dirty work to make it happen.”

You got up from your seat, grabbing your purse. “It was nice seeing you, Dina.”

You shoved your way through the bustling crowd, and were stuck in the middle as soon as your phone began to buzz.

“Not this shit again,” you mumbled to yourself, and pulled out your phone, putting it up to your ear. “What the fuck can I do for you?”

“You look pretty, sweetheart,” Ellie said. “Don’t you worry, we aren’t in your vicinity.”

“Oh, I’m so fucking pleased to hear that,” you exasperated, rubbing your temple in frustration. “Then how do you know I’m here?”

“You’re right, my apologies,” Ellie laughed, and you heard rustling over the line.

“Bunny, we are going to play a game,” Abby came to the line, and your heart jumped rapidly. “We can see you, but we’ve made sure you can’t catch a glimpse of us.”

“What do you want?” You asked.

“You still don’t get it, darling. But that’s okay,” she took a hast pause, collecting her thoughts. “We told you many times that if you were to run, we would catch you, because you are ours. You can hide, change your name, go to different universities, but we will always be there.”

You swallowed thickly, knowing you were getting stares to your frightened look on your face.

“Your parents don’t give a shit about you, they only kept you away so their image wouldn’t be ruined,” she said, and you knew that was more than true; your parents would do anything to remain prestigious and clean, and you were the taint in their life. “You said you kept that shirt to return the favor, but there’s more than that.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about, Anderson,” you scoffed, and she hummed. “I gave that shirt away; you and Ellie are going to prison for good.”

“We’ll see about that, bunny,” she said, and the line went flat. You rushed yourself to the ladies room, nausea building in you as the room spun, and your nerves weakened your muscles. Laughter and shouts from strangers rang in your ears as you dragged yourself further to the bathroom, and the sickening gut feeling came back to you.

You couldn’t pull apart if you were truly just sick to your stomach, or your intuition was stronger than ever.

You pushed the door open to the ladies room, and to your luck, it was completely empty. You lunged yourself into a stall, and collapsed down on your knees, yucking it up into the toilet. Your anxiety and worry got the best of you, making you a mess so easily, and you were embarrassed by it.

You stood up after a few minutes, taking in slow, steady breaths, and gathered yourself, standing back up. You moved over to the sink, and settled your purse down, opening it up to grab your lipstick. You rinsed out your mouth with the faucet water, and sighed heavily, turning off the sink.

You reapplied your scarlet red lipstick, and put the item back into your purse, along with your phone.

Then a click was made from the side of you, gaining your attention.

The nausea came back, but not in a wave, yet in a violent crash. You swore your heart stopped for a moment, but could hear it violently beat in your eardrums while bile stung inside your throat, threatening to come out again.

Your body trembled, knees about to bring you down, and all you wanted to do was die at this very moment.

“Hey, little lamb,” Ellie said, grinning in pride. Your body pressed back against the sink’s counter, and tears approached over your eyes as you stared at her. “What’s the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?”

“No… no,” you said, able to take yourself to the bathroom’s entrance. You opened it, only to be met with Abby instead, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “You are both not here.”

“Oh, but we are,” Abby said, moving forward in sync to your steps going backwards. She maintained a fairly safe distance, but one close enough to grab you if you tried to run. “Why so surprised, bunny? We promised this.”

Something about them was gravely different this time. There was a darker energy to them, a sense of evil and anger heating off of them as they stared at you down in the way the predator does when they have finally cornered their prey.

Yes, they got you, and you had no way out anymore — what a fucking terrifying and cruel revalation.

The cat got their little mouse, right by the tail.

You had fallen right into their trap perfectly, in all the ways they wanted you to. It took great cunning patience and practice to get you in this position, to have you trapped.

You were beyond scared; this was the reoccurring nightmare you dreamt of since the night you left. You always tried to consider or plan out what you would do if they were to approach you in any way, but you never paid mind to how methodical and intelligent they were.

You doubted their skills and abilities, and you were dumb to think they wouldn’t get you any time soon, that you would be free from them for a few more months, maybe a year or two – maybe even a lifetime — you wished and prayed upon it.

You were stuck now. The cat and mouse game came to their precise ending.

“Are you going to kill me now?” You asked, and they hummed, shrugging to themselves.

“Well, if we wanted that, we would have done it back in LA,” Abby said, and your eyes averted back and forth between them, trying to see if there was a possible way out. “Or back in London, who knows. We had so many open opportunities to kidnap you, but we liked this little game.”

“Is that what you’re planning to do now? Kidnap me?” You asked, snickering dryly. “Keep me hostage forever? Wouldn’t be anything new to me.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” Ellie told you, tilting her head to the side. “You liked this claim we have on you. You will never admit it and that’s okay, because we know it, baby.”

“Now let’s not be so rude,” Abby said, and you glanced at her. “Let’s say bye to our guests, and go back home, little bunny.”

Ellie and Abby had seemed to have enough time to decorate the penthouse. To your last memory of it, only the shared bedroom was furnished, and now, they had everything perfectly perched in precise spots.

You sat in the living room, on the black velvet couch as you stared out the window with a mindfulness of thoughts. The city was bustling, sirens louder than ever, and traffic stacked up. You tried to concentrate on the noise outside because it would be last time you would hear it.

The pair had finished fixing themselves up a drink, returning to the room, and sat across from you. You didn’t pay attention to them, fits of rage and terror consuming you inside. You don’t know why you thought you would actually escape them, and you had only dug yourself in a deep grave.

The familiar silence moved through the home, and you could feel their eyes spiking into you, waiting for you to say something. You had more than to say and ask, but you didn’t know where exactly to start, or if you were allowed to question certain things.

“You killed Delilah,” you blurted out, your eyes averting from the window. “You killed Brandon James, and many others, I assume.”

“We have,” Ellie answered, drinking her bourbon.

“I don’t get why. Why do you kill people? How do you even get away with it?” You asked, and Abby glanced over at Ellie, communicating to each other through their eyes. “Are you in like a fucking cartel or some shit?”

“Joel didn’t have an easy time getting to where he is,” Ellie began, setting her glass down, and slouched back on the couch. “He has some connections, and so does Jerry. It’s hard to get into it all, but they were doing illegal shit on the side to get money, build their legacies.”

“We didn’t kill until you,” Abby said, and you raised a brow, positioning your body in their direction. They could tell you were now intrigued, and you were; you were more than curious. “It was two months into knowing you, and you told us about Rachel Wayne. Remember her?”

“Of course I do. That bitch bullied me like it was her life’s purpose,” you lightly joked, and she sighed. “Why?”

“It was the day when she beat you in the girl’s bathroom, ramming your face into the blow dryer all because you got a higher score on your SAT,” Abby said, and you hissed at the memory. You were a good fighter, but Rachel’s envy possessed her strength that day, and she kicked you around like an animal in the bathroom.

She locked the door, keeping her friends, you, and herself locked in, while they recorded the whole moment. You went home with a concussion, a busted face, and cried to the girls about it.

“We were so fucking pissed,” Ellie said, scoffing to herself. “We knew Rachel well. We invited her over to my place, and made small talk, getting the information out of her about what occurred. We got names, and everything.”

You remained quiet, but stayed tuned in and fully focused.

“We got her high off cocaine, and once she was zoned out, we beat the fuck out of her,” she explained, and your heart thumped against your chest, about to pop out. “She was crying, and screaming; but it made us think of how that was you previously because of her. Our anger overrode us to the edge, and we started cracking her body in. We didn’t know we had killed her until she was completely fucking limp.”

“Those who had the video were dealt with too,” Abby assured. “If they refused to delete it, we made sure their lives would be ruined, their parents would be left with nothing. We knew how to obliterate these spoiled fucks.”

“Are you serious?” You asked. It was rumored that Rachel ran away to her boyfriend in Spain, and refused to come back because her parents were assholes to her, and just a straight disappointment to them. “How did you clean up your tracks?”

“Well, I called Joel in a panic, and told him everything,” Ellie answered, finishing her drink. “Joel told Abby and I to get ourselves cleaned up, and these men came over like an hour later, picking up after us.”

“They wiped our phones and tracks completely,” Abby said, and slid you forward her glass of whiskey. “And then we did it again, and Joel quickly realized we were doing it for you. He saw that you were our purpose, so he let us use his connections, and everything.”

“He was worried everything was going to collapse the second the cops came about Brandon,” Ellie recalled, and took out a fresh cigarette. “That was a mess we had to fix, of course. Like, I’d never seen Joel so pissed off before, it was insane.”

“How did you get away with the murder?” You questioned.

“Easy shit,” Abby laughed, shrugging. “He had himself in rough, bad business. We basically found someone who he owed money to, planted all the evidence and shit on that dude.”

“Now that motherfucker is serving life,” Ellie lit up the stick, inhaling sharply. “We made sure it wouldn’t come back to us.”

“But the shirt,” you reminded them, and they stared at you for a moment before aweing at your little tactic. “The shirt is with the cops.”

“Is it, though?” Abby teased, and a faint ding of the penthouse elevator chimed, footsteps approaching into the living room. “Right on time, too! God, I fucking love dramatics.”

Your eyes shifted to the noise, a broad and muscular figure walking to everyone; and you swore it was the night you were going to go into shock, or have an aneurysm.

Carson stood before you with the shirt in a clear zipped bag, and Abby stood up. “Thank you so much,” she grinned, and Ellie shook his head. “Your money has been transferred to your offshore account.”

“What the fuck?” You blurted, Carson directing his eyes towards you. “You knew?”

“I’m the one who’s been cleaning up their messes,” he admitted, and Abby opened up the bag, taking out the shirt. “It didn’t take much to convince your parents to hire me. I just needed a believable resume.”

You shot up from the couch, staring him down. “You told them where I was at, and everything! You are a fucking narc!”

“I didn’t have to tell them anything,” Carson dryly chuckled, amused by your terrified expression. “They were able to do that all on their own; I just gave them the starting point, and left it at that.”

You smacked him, the skin contact echoing in the home. He only laughed, finding you childish and weak, and shrugged. “I’ll have you fucking killed!”

“Loved to see you try,” he said, and took his exit, waving to the pair. You stared at where he was in utter shock, widely appalled with slight betrayal hitting your heart. You had trusted Carson wholeheartedly, felt secure and safe with him, and it all was a blinding lie.

Ellie started up the fireplace, and your eyes flickered to the ghostly fire. “No, no!” You shouted, trying to seize the shirt from Abby, but the auburn haired girl entrapped you in her hold, forcing you to watch the shirt to be burned.

“You know, I hope you start to learn tonight,” Abby tossed the shirt into the fire, and you wailed, thrashing in Ellie’s arms, yet it was pointless; in every way, they would always be stronger, you being a weakling.

The shirt crinkled and disappeared in a matter of seconds.

Ellie let go of you, and you glared at her. “We aren’t done talking,” she settled you back on the couch, and Abby brought a glass of chardonnay to you. “Now we want our answers.”

“I’ll fuck you up!” You spat, and they tried not to laugh. “What else shit do you have to say?”

“What did you expect to happen when you came to us about your bullies?” Abby asked, genuine and engrossed. “Did you think we would just have chit chats?”

You took a second to yourself, and you stared down at your lap, fidgeting at your dress. Before Abby and Ellie came into your life for good, they were notorious at the academy, and held that title with such pride. You knew what they were capable of, what they could do, and you saw them as your defenders from everything.

Did a part of you know what you were doing? Yes, but not that it would lead them to murder. You never understood or knew why they were so fixated on you, even before they decided to lure you into their lives. They had been riveted by you, and there was not a clear indication as to why, but you used it to your full advantage.

Your parents didn’t care about you, and they knew that. All three of you played a dangerous, deadly role in the relationship; it was volatile and brutal, but it was all you had, and they were all you wanted.

You spent so much time running and hiding from them, you never took a particular moment to realize your role in everything. You took that shirt because it was a part of you; you had Brandon killed, he was a deadman the second you called Abby about him.

You were just as guilty as them, you were just as part of their games and murder.

No one else was going to do this for you, nobody would burn and tear apart the Earth just to have you in their grasp again.

“There’s our girl,” Abby cooed, and you looked up at them, tears in your eyes. “You finally understand. After these years, now it has come to you.”

“You gave us the cards, we just played them the way you liked,” Ellie said, and you downed the chardonnay, exhaling shakily as you set it down. “We knew you were too much like us, we couldn’t deny you anymore. We had to have you.”

“Every time you said we handled it,” you sucked in a hard, jagged breath, “was that code for ‘we killed someone”?”

“What else would it mean, princess?” She mused, burning her cigarette out alas in the ashtray on the coffee table.

A silence slowly creeped into the room, crinkling of the fire and outside traffic filling it as it lasted what felt like moments.

“You know the first time we say you — God, we just knew we had to have you,” Abby spoke, and your eyes trained focused on them. “You hypnotized us by simply existing, by being in our vicinity. It was like we were blessed to come across one of God’s angels.”

You were always sure that they were attracted to you because you simply co-existed within their class status, and because they knew you were the only girl at Faye Academy that wasn’t corrupted or tainted. You were like this fresh breath for them to use — and you still thought like that after everything they had done for you, and even prove that they did love you beyond your body.

“Why me?” You asked.

“We don’t know what you did to simply draw us in, but we couldn’t resist. Every time I saw you in class, in your nicely ironed pleated skirt, in your dark blue polo sweater… your makeup done so pretty…” Ellie reminisced, a crude grin playing onto her lips as she recalled the first moment she laid eyes on you. “You were so pure, so perfect for us. It was no longer about wanting you, it was about needing you — we had to; everyday that passed by where you weren’t in our grasp, we could almost die from it.”

“You will never truly know how much you have us at our knees for you, sweetheart, and that’s okay,” Abby said, and you sucked in a sharp breath, not knowing you had been barely breathing the entire time they spoke about you. “But understand the risks we would go through for you; we live and breathe you. We crave and yearn for you, despite the fact you are already ours. What is our purpose if you simply don’t exist in our lives?”

There was not much you could say to that, only able to break down. They sat up from the couch, and Ellie reached her hand out for yours, softly looking at you.

“Let’s go upstairs, baby,” she gently spoke to you, and peered up, hesitantly interlocking your fingers with hers. She walked you with her, Abby trailing close behind as an easy quietude settled in place, though your sniffles were the only thing to be heard.

Walking into the bedroom, you were momentarily paralyzed by the memory of your last moment in it. You were on that same bed when you put all the pieces together, and had left them with no letter or anything; you took your absence, and that was that.

Ellie guided you over to the wall mirror, her and Abby brushing up close on your back, the two attentively admiring you. “We would do anything for you, sweet girl,” Abby said, and your sobs slowly came to a halt. “We’ll always happily be your executioner, for the rest of our lives.”

“You’re our girl,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “But I think you need a fresh reminder of what you put us through.” Her hand hid behind her for a moment, grabbing something from the back of her jeans. A gun came into your vision, and your breath hitched, but she kept it by her side.

Your neck was met with Abby’s soft lips, her warm breath fanning against your skin, and her fingers loosened the strings of the corset. You softly moaned, Ellie fixated on the sight of you easily falling apart to Abby’s kissing, and grinned to herself. “Doesn’t take much to have you under us,” she said, and you eyed her, nodding.

The dress was undone, and easily dropped off your body, the duo getting the view they had longed for all this time. You were bare and exposed, only in underwear, and a primal urge had shadowed over them, wanting to ruin you without any thought.

“Oh, bunny,” Abby whispered. “Just as perfect as we remembered.”

Her lips separated from your marked neck, and you whimpered as Ellie pressed her gun to your abdomen. “What a sweet sight that I will never get tired of,” she mumbled, kissing your cheek. “Seeing you fucking petrified as if we will kill you at any moment.”

“But you won’t,” you retorted. “Right?”

“No,” she promised as the gun was slowly dragged to your temple, and she clicked the trigger, only for the barrel to be empty. You flinched to the trigger, your heart racing. “But we will hurt you, I can assure you that, little lamb.”

She used the gun to steer you to the foot of the bed. “On your fucking knees,” Abby demanded, and you collapsed to them, your knees thudding against the cold, hard granite tiles. “Anytime you stop, we use this gun, and you can find out yourself if the barrel is cleaned out.”

“Yes, mommy,” you muttered, and they amusingly hummed. Ellie kept the gun in position, using one hand to unbuckle her belt, and strip off her jeans as Abby did the same. It was a rare thing for them to have their straps under their pants, only if they knew they would have to handle you at any given moment, and this was one of them. You were going to come crawling back, and they were prepared for it, to claim and destroy you all in one.

“Mama gets to have you first,” Ellie said, and you parted your mouth open, Abby’s stuffing your mouth full with her cock, careless to your gagging. She had her way with you, her hand holding the top of your head as she thrusted herself into your mouth, trying your best to not pull back and gasp for air. The gun was there to keep you place, and you couldn’t ignore how it pressed deeply into the side of your head.

“That’s right, baby. Fuckin’ whore,” Abby said, and you tried to best out of your nose, desperate for more air. You used whatever strength you had, forcing your head back, and engulfed amounts of oxygen into your lungs. “What the fuck did we say?”

The trigger was pressed, and your ears rang with it. Empty, again.

“You’ve been away too long, princess,” Ellie said, and Abby retrieved your head, your mouth filled with the silicone object again. “Was too busy fucking other girls, huh? I bet they couldn’t make you like this; I can see you fucking dripping through your panties.”

Your arousal was a wildfire in you, spreading through your stomach, and down into your thighs. You could feel the mess you were making, seemingly ashamed and embarrassed how you got wet from their threats, with a gun pointed to you that was possibly clipped.

“There she is, now you are being good,” Abby praised, her thumb pressing away the tears that fell on your apple cheeks. “Always doing your best for us, hm? Knew you missed us too, baby.”

Ellie crouched down to your level, the gun lined up under your head as her grin turned into a twisted smirk. “All that we did for you, little one,” she mocked a frown, sighing. “And you just ran away like that? Coming home to find you gone, and betraying us?”

You were lightheaded and dizzy, your mind hazy, yet tried to stay focused. Your moans and whimpers gargled in your throat, drool running out of the corners of your mouth, and falling down onto your breasts.

“You belong to us, and you better start getting that through your fucking skull,” Ellie seethed, her bitter fury coating her mind. “You are only hurting yourself by doing the shit you do. A fucking brat you are.”

Abby decided to give up on you, your mouth hollow and free. She grabbed you by your throat, a sinister shade lingering in her eyes, and air whistled through her teeth. “Little bunny, you have no clue what you’ve done to yourself.”

You were put in the middle of the bed, and Ellie looked at her gun. “Let’s see if she can still take us,” she said, and Abby hummed, nodding. Ellie adjusted herself in between your legs, shoving them open, and stripped off your underwear, moaning at the sight of your cunt. “Fucking hell. She’s fucking soaking, babe.”

Abby had bunched ropes in her hand, kneeling into the bed, and stared at your cunt. “What a sick bitch you are, bunny,” she teased, running a finger down your slick folds, and you whined. “All of this from a gun, Ellie. She fucking loves it.”

Nothing else was said as Abby grasped onto your legs, and pushed your legs up against your chest. Her hands gripped on your wrists, having you hug the underneath of your legs, and made sure you kept yourself locked in the placement.

Ellie tied your wrists together, tight enough to not cut off any blood supply, and then went on to your ankles, knotting them in one. She used another string of rope to connect your ankles to your wrists, making your position trapped and stuck.

“We don’t want to hear you enjoying this,” Ellie said, and gave the gun over to Abby as the blonde sat herself in front of you. Ellie took off her strap, letting it drop to the ground, and took off her underwear, only to move herself over your face. She carefully lowered herself down on, and her aching cunt met your mouth as you obediently sucked and ran your tongue on it.

Abby slowly slipped the gun into you, yet you were soaked enough to let it easily be fucked into you. She pressed down onto your stomach as she rammed the cold weapon into your pussy, and you tried to muzzle your needy noises, tending to Ellie’s needs.

The auburn girl rutted herself against your mouth, eliciting shaky moans and cursed under her breath. “Yeah, just like that, sweetheart,” she muttered, looking over at Abby while she continued to fist the gun into you.

You lathered Ellie’s slick on your tongue, pleased how it dripped over your lips as you moaned to the sweet taste of her. If your wrists weren’t restrained, you would keep your arms around her thighs just to eat her out for hours on end.

Abby and Ellie were intensely dominant, it was unwonted when you gave them pleasure. They were refusing about it, saying that you were the one who needed to be desired and tended to whenever you wanted to be.

You couldn’t tell if you were immensely desperate or if the gun was fucking you so well, that you were already at the peak of your climax. You denied your orgasm, needing to get Ellie to hers, and harshly ate her out, fucking her hole with your tongue, sending her into a moaning, pleading mess for you.

“Oh shit, sweetheart— yeah, keep going,” she softly moaned. “Being such a good girl for daddy, gonna make sure to cum in your pretty mouth.”

“She’s making a mess on your gun and sheets,” Abby said, and for a moment, your cunt was not filled until she pushed her cock into you. “There we fuckin’ go, this is exactly what she needs.”

Ellie craned her body near Abby, the two kissing each other in a sloppy manner as the blonde roughly fucked into you. Abby kept her close as Ellie’s jagged moans and whines breathed into her mouth, doing all she could to keep herself up and close.

“You going to cum, baby, hm?” Abby asked, and Ellie moaned against her lips, nodding. “Go on, cum for us. You can do it.”

Ellie’s orgasm came crashing down as she squirmed and cried out, twitching on your mouth. Ellie pushed herself up, kneeling beside your head and leaned down to kiss you, both of you moaning at the taste of her. You sucked on each other’s tongues, Ellie slipping her hand down your stomach, and made way in between your thighs, rubbing your cunt.

She broke apart the kiss, her free hand gripping onto your jaw to make forced eye contact, and spat into your mouth. “Make us proud, baby. Want you to give daddy a good one,” she whispered, and you kept your eyes trained into hers as Abby pounded herself deeper into you, the squelching noises of your slick mixing in with your whimpers and throaty moans.

“So fucking tight, never gonna get enough of this perfect pussy,” Abby breathed, her hands squeezing the back of your thighs. “Made just for us, sweet girl. Everything about you was made for us to worship and ruin.”

“No one fucked you like this back in London, huh?” Ellie asked, and you shook your head. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. Probably had to get off all by yourself while you thought of us, too.”

“Just… just thought of you two the entire time,” you confessed, brows knitted together. “I need you so bad, ‘m sorry.”

“We’re here, baby,” she said, kissing the side of your head. “Next time you try to escape, you’ll absolutely fucking regret it. Got that?”

You nodded, and a warm sensation kindled in the pits of your stomach, knowing the familiar feeling. You squirmed, and Abby glanced over at Ellie. “If she doesn’t understand, we’ll just beat it into her,” she said, making it a sincere promise, and a chaste kiss was made to your forehead. “I would hate to do that, but it might just happen.”

Your approaching orgasm made it too troubling to know if they would harm you in such a way, but you were at the point that you couldn’t put it past them.

“Cum for mommy,” Abby insisted, and you moaned, your hips jittering as your climax broke out of you, broken moans escaping from you. “That was fucking nothing, you crybaby.”

The cum from her strap leaked with yours, dripping out of your hole, and making a puddle in the bedsheets. She unknotted the ropes, tossing them to the ground shortly after, and massaged your wrists.

You laid there for a second before bursting out in a fit of laughter, the two confused by it.

“What?” Ellie bluntly asked.

“Surprised you even let me cum,” you said, laughing a little more. “Usually you have me work for it.”

Abby and Ellie looked at each other before their eyes went back to you as they puckered their lips in thought nodding to themselves. Ellie picked you up from the bed, and brought a violent backhand slap to your cheek, halting your laughter altogether.

“You want to keep fucking laughing!” She yelled, giving you another one. “You are even fucking lucky we are touching you. We could have had you strapped to a vibrator for hours, and hit you every time you tried to cum.” Your lightness turned into sobs, and you stared at her through glossy vision, your pout shaking on your lips. They had simply run over their limit and patience with you, and you no longer doubted the sadism they would lay on you.

Abby just stood by, soaking in your tears and how easy it was to crack you. It was enough for the both of them to get off. She took you from Ellie, putting your arms behind your back as her chest brushed up against it, and Ellie took off her shirt, harnessing back on her strap.

God, I know you hate me, you thought to yourself. But please, have mercy on me.

Abby spat down your ass, using the saliva as lubrication, and dipped you down onto her strap, your ass hole brutally being stretched open. She kept you steady and positioned right for Ellie, who was not far behind as she shoved her cock into you.

“Ride us, bitch,” Abby said, and you obliged, hissing under your breath. The pain lasted longer than you thought, tears flooding into your ears while their size brutalized your cunt. “Such a sensitive cry baby. So easy for us to break you.”

Your head fell back on her shoulder, looking up at her. “Please, mama. ‘M sorry, I’ll be so good for you.”

Ellie grabbed your jaw, a violent smack struck against your cheek. “You enjoy lying to us, all the fuckin’ time. We should’ve disposed of you a while ago, see how you would’ve done without us.”

“What a pity that would be,” Abby taunted, laughing breathily in your laugh. As they found humor at the thought of you being a lost lamb without them, you were ripping at the seams as you went on to ride them at a gentle pace for you, the discomfort shifting into grand pleasure. “I would like to see that. Maybe next time we will leave, have you feel what we did.”

“No no!” You cried, shaking your head, and broke into hysterical sobs. “Didn’t mean to go, swear I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Ellie jested, that eerie smirk of hers resting on her lips. “Because who will put up with you? Make you feel like this? Give into your fucking sick desires?”

“That’s why you’re perfect for us,” Abby noted, her hand creeping up to your neck, and viciously gripped on your throat. “Just as twisted and fucked in the head as us, more than you’d care to admit. No one will want or need you the way we do.”

You refused to deny them that. They were what you craved, they were the epitome of your lust and dreams, everything you yearned for, and were the helping hand to expose who you were to yourself. You would’ve done the same as them if they tried to leave; you would fucking slaughter those who they cared for just to have them again.

A match made in the ninth circle of Hell.

Your next high came to you, making it easily known as your noises got high pitched, making it an indicator. “Let me cum, please,” you pleaded, sobbing. “Want to cum, I need to— I’ll do anything you want.”

“We like you this way, stupid whore,” Abby said, and made the gun useful again, pointing it to your ribcage. “You cum, I pull the trigger.”

You body tensed, and you nodded, trying to ignore your unbearable high as it was becoming raw ecstasy to you. Your thighs trembled, about to give up on you, and you looked at Ellie through wettened eyelashes, your face drenched with tears and sweat.

The bedroom was rare filth, you could smell sin and vices burning through it. Your life was in their hands in every literal sense, but you wouldn’t have it any other way; you would rather die than not have them, and if that meant they would have to kill you themselves, you would let them. You were utterly nothing without them, and they knew it, too.

You had all the fucking wealth and privilege in the world to be someone, but you couldn’t be if they weren’t there on your side. You were them, and they were you. Your souls were eternally intertwined, and no matter where you went, you would always come back to them because they were it. They were all you sought out for.

Despite their desecration and souls being planted from Hell, they were Heaven and all things bliss.

You needed them. You would always need them.

You were winded out of your head as your orgasm stung inside of you, crying to be freed. You sobbed with it, shaking your head, but had to consider the gun that was indented into your skin. You had not known how much was passing when holding in your cum, but you couldn’t take it, and it was easily making you fall apart.

“Mommy, please!” You cried, blubbering in your tears. “I have to— ahh, please! I can’t do it, I can’t!”

“Yes you can, and you will, you fucking whore,” Ellie argued. “Unless you want to find out if the next shot has a bullet in it.”

You shook your head, and continued to break into sobs, your orgasm threatening to be released at the edge of you. It was becoming too much, your vision was blurring, and your heart was overwhelmed, almost frightened you would have a heart attack of some sort.

Ellie and Abby gave in, violently and recklessly pounding into you, putting your riding to a complete stop. You placed your hands on Ellie’s shoulders for support, Abby’s nails clawing into your throat as she continued to hold onto it for leverage while she maintained to hold you at gunpoint.

Utter euphoria rode over you, your eyes rolling to the inside of your head, and your back perfectly arched, crying out for the both of them. Your nails scratched at Ellie’s skin, your eyes getting a hast look at her fucking your cunt. Your noises and voice grated like rust at the back of your throat, breaths shuddering in your ribcage.

“You want to fucking cum, bunny?” Abby breathily asked. “Cry for it more if you really want it, sweetheart.”

“Mama, please!” You sobbed loudly, your mewls and cries faltering in your cries. “Want to be full of you, need to be bred by you two, please. Make me a pretty mommy for you, keep me trapped with you.”

They fucking lost it on you, ferociously driving themselves deeper into your wet, abused holes, and were coming to their own high. “Yeah, baby? Want daddy to fuck a baby into you?” Ellie cooed, a faux pout dangling on her lips. “Then you wouldn’t have anywhere to go.”

You nodded, on the brink of being braindead. “Yes, yes! I wanna be leaking of you. Wan’ mama and daddy to breed me so badly, please!”

You were an incoherent babbling mess, your voice raw and rough as you cried with your noises of gratification. They easily had you at the tip, and were ready to push you all the way down, keep you sobbing.

“Fucking cum for us, fuck!” Abby demanded, dropping the gun, and let go of your throat. She laid her hands on your torso, her nails scraping against your skin, and you hissed to it. Wanton moans and whimpers echoed throughout the room, and a second hadn’t passed when your climax ran out of you, riding it out as the girls went on to fuck you.

You let them use you like a fucktoy until they had come to their own orgasm, stuffing their cum into you as a symphony of curses sputtered from their lips. All movements came to a stop, bodies trembling and sticky.

You had to internally keep yourself conscious, but it was seeming impossible. You collapsed onto the bed the moment you were unfilled with their cocks, letting them handle themselves before you.

You could feel a warm, wet rag running over your legs, and you stared up at the ceiling, your eyes lazily blinking. “We need to clean you up, sweetheart. C’mon,” Ellie said, and picked you up, carrying you into the bathroom.

The three of you shared a warm bath, sitting in the middle of them as they cleaned you up nice and well, being sure to be gentle to touch you. You had missed the sweet scent of them, or how their violent hands could be so kind to your body, chaste kisses being pressed on your spine and forehead here and there.

It took you a few years for you to figure out your purpose with them, and all that they did for you. It was more than enough. To many, it would seem insane of your justifications and reasonings to why they did what they did for you, but no one else's opinion mattered in the fact. They worshiped you, they devoted every inch and breath of themselves to your protection and well being.

This is all you wanted. You and them forever the rest of your life. If carnage and bloodshed had to present, then so be it; because as long as you had them there by you, it was okay.

It was going to be okay forever.

[coffeefleecy]

Secrets Behind Closed Doors

Pairing: Caleb X MC

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Caleb has never been one for subtlety. He finds that people dancing around a subject or belaboring a conversation by not saying what they mean tends to frustrate him so much that he often finishes their thought for them.

Get to the fuckin’ point, He thinks to himself, hands flexing in agitation by his sides, fingers stretching out then curling back up into his palm as the nail bites into the skin hard enough to leave red crescents.

Caleb says what he wants, does what he wants and casts no unnecessary apologies he won’t mean anyways. That is, unless it comes to you.

Word Count: 5.6k

Tags/Warnings: smut, scent kink, possessive behavior, masturbation, face-sitting, cunnilingus, dirty talk

Caleb has never been one for subtlety. He finds that people dancing around a subject or belaboring a conversation by not saying what they mean tends to frustrate him so much that he often finishes their thought for them. 

Get to the fuckin’ point, He thinks to himself, hands flexing in agitation by his sides, fingers stretching out then curling back up into his palm as the nail bites into the skin hard enough to leave red crescents.

Caleb says what he wants, does what he wants and casts no unnecessary apologies he won’t mean anyways. That is, unless it comes to you.

You.

Everything about you drives Caleb insane and you are the one person he won’t  - can’t -be upfront with. How could he be? You make him go fucking stupid. He can barely think around you, let alone speak and be entirely honest with every disgusting, depraved thought twisting around in his mind. He has to filter himself around you to spare the both of you.

“Caleb?” Your voice sends shivers up his spine.

“Hm?”

“Did you want to watch that new rom-com with me tonight? I’ve been seeing it everywhere and I’m afraid I’ll get spoiled if I don’t watch it soon!”

He observes you over his cup of coffee and tries not to fixate on the foam that’s gathered by your bottom lip.

“Whatever, I don’t have anything going on tonight.”

He fucking hates rom-coms, but there’s a lot of annoying shit he’d do just see that pretty smile play at your lips. He’d walk barefoot over hot magma just to hear you laugh. Hell, he’d probably take a waterboarding session if it meant you’d drape those gorgeous fucking legs over his lap.

“Thanks,” You beam at him. “Your place?”

Caleb returns your smile and laughs.

“Sure, but you have to bring food this time. I’m getting sick of you stealing all of my groceries.”

It goes unsaid that he’d let you rob him blind and max out all of his credit cards if you wanted to.

“Deal! I’ll bring whatever you want, just send me a text when you get home!”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Caleb thinks he has time. You are always a little later than you said you’d be and it truthfully never bothers him in spite of his nagging need to be early to everything. The problem is that you’re knocking on his door and calling out for him as he’s in the middle of fucking his fist, desperate to get some relief and stave off the cravings for you as a precaution. Your voice is blood in shark infested waters, sending him into overdrive as he bucks into his hand. 

“Caleb!” 

His name on your lips has him whimpering and forces him to bite into the sleeve of his shirt to keep from alerting you to his activities despite the walls and door between the two of you. He squeezes the base of his cock to the point that the unshed tears of pleasure he’s been holding back begin to trail down his face, frustration and lack of release seizing his entire body. Your knocks get louder and the impatience permeates from your side of the wall until it feels like an actual, tangible weight. 

Caleb’s throat is raw as he snarls and stuffs himself back into his pants, completely unsure of how to proceed. He has to get you to stop knocking and there’s no way he’s going to be able to finish with you beating down his door, so he picks the lesser of two evils and grits his teeth to greet you.

“Finally,” You huff angrily when you’re met with his red face. “Woah, what happened to you?”

“I thought you were going to be another half hour,” Caleb says, ignoring your question. “I just finished working out - I thought I had time to take a shower.”

“Oh, by all means,” you wave your hand nonchalantly as you push past him, arms laden with bags of snacks and drinks. “I’ll just hang out on my phone or something. I don’t mind!”

Caleb’s thankful for your lack of attention to detail, taking your fixation on settling in to adjust himself in his sweats. It would have to be one fucking cold shower.

“I’ll be five minutes,” he says, more to himself than to you. “Just find the movie and we can get started after I get out.”

You hum, more focused on laying out all of the snack choices than sparing a glance in his direction. 

“Sounds good, take your time. I may borrow some clothes, is that okay?”

Caleb winces. Yes. No. God, he wants to see you drowning in his clothes but he’s terrified of what it’s going to do to his already fucked libido.

“Just take what you want, you know where to look.”

~

Caleb’s shower is wholly unsatisfying; the frigid spray of water does wonders for his erection but sharpens his mind and instincts to serrated points and he’s come to the conclusion that nothing can slake his desire for you no matter how much he tries to snuff it out.

The whole process is around five minutes in total, mostly because he wants to maximize his time with you. Caleb carelessly runs a towel through his hair, faint droplets of water still clinging to the tips of some strands in his haste to get to you. The neatly folded stack of fresh clothes he’s placed surreptitiously on the counter calls to him like sirens as the cool air pricks at his skin, gooseflesh decorating his body.

 Being cold is less embarrassing than being hard, he thinks.

 He dons a comfortable pair of loved sweats that have been through the wash maybe a few too many times, no structure and all snugness to the fabric. The shirt he’s selected is sleeveless and the armholes are stretched so wide it fits him more like a poncho. He’s caught you staring at his arms a few times when he’s worn it, more likely in awe of how his workout routine is treating him and less likely that you want to rip it off of him, but he likes to pretend it’s the latter.

Caleb sees you’re perched on his couch and wearing his sweater and faded pajama bottoms when he joins you in the living room and a warm feeling spreads in his chest at the thought of you being so comfortable in his space. His fingertips twitch at his sides, flexing and stretching to give his brain something less dangerous to focus on. He can hear you humming to yourself faintly as you scroll through the options on his screen, your face the portrait of unwavering concentration complete with you worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

He wants to bite it.

“I see you’ve helped yourself to my closet,” Caleb remarks teasingly.

“Huh? Oh, I thought you said it was okay!”

“I did, you know me well enough to know I’m joking. Don’t give me that face,” He adds when your eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Your clothes are just more comfy than mine are,” You pout.

“They look better on you than they do on me,” He concedes, focusing on the television screen to keep himself from fixating on that very true fact.

“I don’t know how true that is, your arms look gigantic in that shirt.”

Pride blooms in the back of his throat with a delightful burn. There’s something in the way you praise him that makes him feel like he’s pleased you - like he’s made the right choice and he’s climbing in the ranks of your favor. 

I did good.

“I gotta keep up the workout routines - how else am I meant to have the energy to hang out with you?”

That earns him a scoff.

“Please, you and I both know that you look forward to this. Kinda lame that your sister is your only friend.”

“You’re not my fucking sister.” Caleb admonishes you with an eye roll. 

“Okay, geez,” You backpedal, pressing the play button on the remote. “I don’t know why it bothers you so much - if you hate me, just say so.”

“I don’t hate you, you’re just not my sister,” Caleb grabs your legs and hauls them over his lap - a position neither of you are strangers to. “Would you rather I hung out with you out of obligation for the sake of some false familial title or would you rather it be of my own free will?”

“Just watch the movie, Caleb,” You relax against the back of the couch and stretch your legs more comfortably across him. “And don’t even think about falling asleep - I’ve got my eyes on you!”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Caleb can’t make heads or tails of what’s happening on the screen in front of him because you’re absently rubbing your legs together in his lap. He’s going to need a mouthguard around you if he has to grit his teeth anymore; he fears he’s lost quite a bit of surface area over the years. Normally, he grins and bears it, but with how pent up he’s been for the past few days and his precautionary self-love session getting cut short, he’s a little more anxious than usual. 

He doesn’t truly mean to use his evol - he tries not to, if he can help it - but he needs you to stop squirming or he’s going to have bigger problems than you being annoyed with him.

“Caleb!”

“What? Stop movin’ around! You’re jostling me.” Caleb snaps defensively. 

“I’m ‘jostling’ you? You don’t have to use that on me to get me to stop, just ask next time,” You scoff, fighting fruitlessly against his evol. “Caleb, let me go, I’ll just move away.”

“I didn’t want you to move, you’re just… distracting me. You can keep ‘em there, just try to sit a little bit more still.”

Caleb almost expects you to retreat when he releases his hold on you, but you simply shoot him a half-hearted glare and stay put, too comfortable with his hands draping over you to want to move. He must have a look on his face, because you’re surveying him quietly.

“Got something to say?”

“Nothing, you just look a little flushed. Do you think you’re getting sick?”

“No, I -” Caleb is cut off by the cool, relaxing feeling of your hand against his admittedly glistening forehead.

“You feeling okay, Caleb? We can call it early.”

Caleb’s answering smile is tired; lackluster, though you know he would never ask you to leave or take you up on your offer to do so.

“Nah, ‘m fine. Stay. I’ve just had a long day.”

You pull away to lean back against the couch and prop your head up by tucking your palm to cup your jaw. If you notice that Caleb’s head falls slack to chase your hand, you don’t say anything.

“Anything you wanna talk about?”

Caleb’s eyes flash with a slight glint of something you can’t quite place before he turns his attention back to the television.

“I’m fine, really - don’t worry about me. I thought you’ve been wanting to watch this! Pay attention.”

“I am paying attention - it seems like you’re the one that’s distracted. Whatever. Caleb, I’m cold.”

“Want a blanket?”

“Just come closer – you’re like a heating pad.”

Caleb sighs dramatically while he opens his arms for you, silently panicking and begging you to make good on your promise to sit still. He can feel his heart thudding rapidly in his chest and prays you can’t hear it.

“Seriously, you doing okay?” You ask, muffled into his shirt as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Seriously, pipsqueak - I’m fine. Stop buggin’ me and watch your movie.”

Caleb takes the opportunity to pull you closer to him, squeezing his eyes shut as he takes in the scent of your shampoo. He’s always been so sensitive to smells and it kills him that you give off the most intoxicating one. It’s almost funny, he thinks – how primal human beings can be and how little it takes to reduce them to a lesser state; all instinct.

Fuck, does he have to fight every single one of his instincts when he’s around you. He wonders if it’s like that for you, too, but your face is an open book and you’ve never had a thought he hasn’t been able to decipher. It’s torture for him to know he’s the only one suffering, though he’s at least thankful for your ignorance when it comes to his own issues. You make him feel like a fucking creep and sometimes he wonders if he actually might be.

“You’re so cozy, Caleb,” You groan, the sound doing absolutely heinous things for his self-restraint.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“No, I mean it - you’re like a giant teddy bear.”

Your body molds itself to his, sending his thoughts to dangerous places and making him wonder if you’re ever truly aware of how you’re affecting him and just playing dumb. Your track record with guys leads him to believe that you’re just that innocent - he knows, he’s shared a home with you and the walls aren’t exactly thick.

“Gonna give me any room to breathe or are you hoping that I absorb you through osmosis or something? I mean, really - ah -”

Caleb is cut off by your thigh sliding between his legs in what he hopes is an innocent attempt for warmth.

“Oh, sorry - did I hurt you?”

Your naivety is fucking delicious. Caleb swallows the knot in his throat and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. Ignorant to the source of his discomfort, you shrug it off and slip your arms around his waist.

“You’re being weird today.”

“How am I being weird?” Caleb demands, though the irony of his defensive tone isn’t lost on him.

“Just jumpy. Jittery – I don’t know. I know you said you had a long day, but you’re never this tense around me.”

Maybe if you’d just shown up when you said you were going to and let him fucking jerk off in peace, he wouldn’t be having this problem.

“Sorry,” Caleb’s reply is breathy; strained. “It really is just that I’ve had a long day.”

“Don’t be sorry,” You chide. “Just let me know if I can help. I don’t like it when you’re uncomfortable.”

You lean forward to push some hair out of his face and press a chaste kiss to his cheek. Your thigh rubs against him even more with the proximity and you’re essentially unknowingly straddling his leg. A sharp, high-pitched whimper bubbles in the back of Caleb’s throat, too sudden for him to suppress it and too loud for you to not have heard it.

“C-Caleb?” You manage after a beat of incredibly uncomfortable silence.

“Don’t,” He manages through gritted teeth.

“N-no, did I hurt you that time? I’m sorry, I -” You scramble to move off of him, but freeze when you feel something rigid twitching between your thighs.

Caleb wraps his arms around you to keep you from squirming and escalating this situation even further, but all the motion does is push him between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath, tremors racking your body at this new feeling. 

“Don’t - don’t fucking move,” Caleb warns desperately, his voice wobbly and breathless. “Just - just give me a second.”

Your eyes narrow, and whether it’s from years of being bossed around or from the intense urges to push him further, you grind down on him. The effect is instantaneous and the sounds that fall from Caleb’s lips will be seared into your brain forever in the form of whines so needy and broken that it sounds like  in agony.

“Don’t make me use my fucking evol on you, you brat,” he spits out, though the words are less like he’s threatening you and more like he’s begging you.

Images of you spread out, forced down by his unwavering gravity while he’s knuckle deep in your tight cunt flood his mind, the dam of his restraint shattering and splintering into dust. His chest heaves as he swallows a gulp of air, desperate for anything to quell the tremors racking through his body at the feeling of you pressed so closely against him. His worn sweatpants are so thin, he can feel the heat between your thighs burning him. You give him no chances to catch himself before he falls and jerkily roll your hips into his.

“What the fuck are you doing, pipsqueak?” 

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly, but make no moves to get off of him.

“We can’t come back from this,” Caleb warns shakily. “Once you cross that line, we can’t come back from it.”

“Is this why you’ve been so worked up today?” You demand, though your voice lacks conviction as you grind into him with unpracticed and shaky determination.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“So show me.” 

Caleb’s cock is so painfully hard in his ratty sweats and your breath so close to his neck has him leaking precum. He’s given you so many outs and is running out of willpower rapidly. You take every last one of his nerves and stomp on them, leaving nothing but destruction in your wake as you invade every pore and cell of his body and hold him hostage.

“Please, please,” He begs. “I can’t - I can’t hold back anymore -”

You swallow his desperate and pathetic pleas down with the faintest press of your lips to his, innocent in intent with no thought behind the action. It’s like you’ve flipped a switch in him. A deep, almost unsettling growl rips from the back of his throat and before either of you can stop it, he’s got you splayed out on your back with his knee pushing insistently between your thighs. His lips crash into yours yet again, though his kiss is entirely mask off and undisguised as he forces his tongue into your mouth like he’s worried he doesn’t have enough time to memorize your taste. 

You reciprocate as best as you can with uncertain licks and nips, but Caleb seems almost annoyed when you fight for dominance with the kiss. He grabs your chin between his index finger and thumb and pries your lips open with his tongue, conquering your mouth with the sweet tang of apples and desperation.

“Need it,” he pants into your mouth after breaking the kiss to beg. “Need you, need all of you, please -”

A choked moan wrenches from your lips as Caleb lunges forward to cover your body with his and decorate your neck with evidence of his love. His teeth leave small indents that he laves his tongue over to soothe, comforting you like he’s always so good at doing.

“You can,” You encourage, craning your neck to expose more of it to him. “Feels so good.”

“Please, fuck - let me get a taste, I’ll do anything,” Caleb whines as he grinds his clothed cock into your hip. “Just spread your legs, let me in - no - wait, sit on my face. Please, I’m fucking begging you to sit on my face so I can make you feel so good.”

Caleb sounds drunk; absolutely dizzy with the prospect that he gets to see you like this, let alone touch you. His tone has taken on a light, airy and high-pitched kick, breathless and needy like he can’t get the words out fast enough.

“I’ve - I’ve never done this before,” you pant, face burning bright with the inklings of shame that come with inexperience.

“No one’s ever touched you like this before?” Caleb’s head snaps up and when you see the fire in his eyes, the heat between your legs feels like an inferno.

“Never – never wanted anyone,” You explain, though you’re not sure why you feel like you have to. “No time.”

“You saving yourself for me or something, Pipsqueak?” His words are light and playful on the surface, but you can hear the tension, like he’s going to come undone at any second.

“I -” You can barely speak, his words rooting you to the spot and sending shivers down your spine. “Did you want me to?”

“Can’t just say shit like that,” He groans. “Fuck, are you sure this is okay? Please call me off, please - I really meant it when I said we can’t come back from this - I can’t come back from this.”

“Want you C-Caleb,” You stammer, so overcome with all of these new feelings that you can’t even vocalize what it is that you want. “Please.”

In lieu of a response, Caleb dips forward to kiss you again, savoring your taste and whining into your mouth at the friction between your bodies. He’s not even trying to hide the fact that he’s so hard he’s aching and he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s leaking through his sweats at this point, too dizzy with you and the fact that you want him in any capacity to care.

You help him with your - his - sleep pants and clumsily shimmy them down your legs, sucking in a sharp breath as the cold air hits your newly exposed skin. Caleb’s teeth sink into your bottom lip and he covers your mouth with his to swallow your cries of pain and pleasure.

“Please,” Caleb begs as he trails kisses down your jawline. “Please let me taste you - wanna eat you out so badly, please, please -”

“I trust you, b-but if it tastes bad or your grossed out please don’t feel like you have to -”

Caleb scoffs.

“Gonna drink up everything you have to give me until you can’t give me any more,” He slips his hands underneath the sweater you stole from him and yanks it off of you with no preamble, impatient to get to his meal. “Know you taste so fucking good, I just know it…”

Your lust outweighs your confusion at his last statement and instead of questioning it, you thread your fingers through his silky locks and take a mental snapshot of the image of him pressing kisses into your stomach.

Caleb makes a note to pay special attention to your chest the next time he gets a chance – prays that there will be a next time – but he’s far too focused on the scent between your legs that his mouth fills with saliva at the thought of finally getting to taste you.

His fingers tremble as he impatiently paws at your underwear, scowling at them like they’re personally wronging him. Caleb rips them down your thighs and groans as a long strand of your arousal stretches with the soaked fabric.

“ ‘s fucking wet,” He croons, quietly tucking your underwear into the pocket of his sweats as he presses his lips against your entrance. 

His eyes practically roll into the back of his head as he inhales, a shudder racking his entire body in a frigid rush at your potent scent. 

“Smell so fucking good - it’s all mine,” He mutters under his breath, almost as if he hadn’t meant to even speak those words aloud. 

He flattens his tongue against you and licks a heavy stripe up, collecting as much of your wetness as he possibly can. 

“C-Caleb,” You whine. 

“That’s right, say it,” He says proudly before covering your pussy with his tongue, his name on your lips acting like a shot of adrenaline.

You’re so wet that you can’t tell where your arousal stops and Caleb’s saliva begins. His fingernails bite into your ass cheeks, pulling you as close as he can physically be to you, fucking you with his tongue and working his jaw even though it’s screaming in protest from the effort. It’s so messy, you’re almost embarrassed to look at him as he ravages your cunt like he’ll die if he’s pried away. 

“Tastes so fucking good, knew it,” He moans hoarsly, voice watery and high-pitched in a way that makes him sound like he’s crying.

“I c-can’t - I don’t know what’s happening,” You cover your face with your hands as he pulls his tongue out of you and sucks your clit between his lips, the pressure and suction so hard that it almost hurts. “I just -”

“You gonna fucking come for me?” Caleb demands, dividing his attention from devouring you to look up at you.

You hear him practically growl, animalistic and angry, before you feel him prying your hands from your face.

“Fucking look at me, do you understand me?” His beautiful eyes burn into yours, determined and hungry. “Did I say you could cover your face?”

“No, it’s just,” Your voice shakes, wavering slightly as you try to catch your breath. “It’s a little embarrassing - I don’t -”

“Hey, hey,” Caleb’s tone shifts and his gaze softens. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Caleb presses kisses up your stomach, trailing his lips up to your sternum, collarbone, neck and finally your lips. He’s covered in your essence, lips soaked and swollen from his relentless drive to make you come for him. He pries your lips apart with his tongue, flicking it against your bottom lip before sliding it in, forcing you to taste yourself.

“See how good you taste,” He breathes into your mouth. “Could eat you out all fuckin’ day.”

“C-Caleb,” You protest, feeling the dregs of your shame flutter in your stomach. 

“Want you to ride my face,” He continues desperately, body trembling above yours. “Get you nice and wet and let you fucking cover me with it.”

“Wh-Where did you learn to talk like this? I didn’t know you were capable of that!” You half-heartedly swat him with a trembling hand.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” He hisses, the words heavy like a looming threat. “I’ve got shit locked up inside my head that would make you want to run.”

“Tell me,” you encourage him, mind void of any rational thoughts as he sucks scarlet roses into your neck, covering you in marks you have no energy to protest to. “What?”

“You sure you wanna know?”

“Just wanna hear you - wanna hear your voice,” you breathe, trembling when his teeth dig into your throat. 

“Yeah? Wanna hear how badly I want to fucking wreck you? You don’t even know what you’re getting yourself into, pipsqueak.”

The term of endearment he usually refers to you as sounds like venom; sarcastic and mean as he teases and taunts you - like he’s got an inside joke he’s not letting you in on and he’s getting off on bullying you for it.

“Don’t be mean, Caleb,” You whine. 

He pulls away from ravaging your neck and actually fucking laughs, the sound sending thousands of pinpricks embedding themselves into your slick skin, forcing you to tremble and writhe beneath him.

“Don’t play fucking dumb, you and I both know you like it when I’m mean to you,” His grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger to force you to look at him. 

“Caleb -”

“You don’t even know what to do with it, do you?” He coos, patronizing and chock-full of false pity. “So fucking pathetic that you want me to tell you what I want to do with you and you wouldn’t even understand it.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, I - “

He scoffs as he roughly jerks your head to the side, stealing the words from your mouth and examining and admiring the marks he’s branded you with proudly.

“Look at you begging for me without even knowing what you want. Fuck, I love seeing my marks all over you.”

“Not begging,” you huff, the long-standing game between the two of you to break the other persisting even into adulthood. 

“You will,” Caleb promises. “And you’re gonna beg for me to make you cum. I’m not gonna ask again, get that fucking pussy on my face before I make you.”

You’re speechless as he leans back on the couch, the portrait of debauchery with kiss swollen and spit-slick lips, cock straining against his pathetic excuse for sweatpants. His chest rises and falls as though an immeasurable force is pressing against him, breathing labored as he fixes you with a challenging glare, pupils so dilated you’d worry he’s high on something in any other context. 

“I - I don’t know if I can, Caleb I don’t want to suffocate you.”

“I want you to fucking suffocate me, here - I’ll do the work for you,” Caleb snarls, reaching forward to dig his fingers into the backs of your thighs. “Come here.”

You cry out as he yanks your body forward and forces you to straddle his chest. He spares no time, terrified that he’s wasting the nanoseconds that he isn’t touching you as he manhandles you into the perfect position. He’s got you straddling his face, eyes burning in the frenzy your scent drives him to as you drip messily onto his face. Caleb inhales, breathing you in as he digs his fingernails into your thighs to press you as closely as he can to his face. 

His tongue is frantic, probing and searching with no rhyme or reason other than to collect everything you have to give him, You tremble above him, overwhelmed with the feelings as every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, white hot wires licking flames of pleasure everywhere inside you, synapses giving way to delicious electricity.  

When Caleb sucks your puffy clit into his mouth, you shake so violently that you’d be worried about falling if he weren’t fusing you to his mouth. Caleb is whining, loud and unashamed as he drinks you in, his own hips bucking into nothing as he chases the phantom feeling of you on top of him.

“C-Caleb, I can’t -”

Your words bubble and fizz in your throat, dying out as Caleb doubles his efforts to drive you to blissed out silence. 

“Use me,” He pants as he comes up for a momentary breath. “Ride my face, please - I wanna make you feel so good, please just use me.”

“What about -”

The feeling of his tongue probing inside of you silences you entirely, forcing your mouth open in a silent scream. Caleb moves his hands from your thighs to settle at your hips, fingertips digging into them as he moves you like he wants, taking all of the effort so you can just feel. Caleb’s tongue feels impossibly long as he explores parts of you that even you haven’t managed to reach through solitary experimentation. 

“Fuck it,” Caleb grunts, and before you can ask what he means or if he’s okay, you can feel his evol weighing down on you. 

“Just for right now,” Caleb tries to explain, though he’s too wrapped up in freeing his hands to make sense of it to you. 

You don’t have to ask what he means by that, because as soon as he no longer has to anchor you to his face with his hands, he’s got his tongue on your clit and shoving his index and middle fingers inside of you. He’s met with no resistance as your slick gushes out and drenches his hand. Caleb’s tongue flicks at your clit with concentrated and relentless pressure as he pistons his fingers in and out of you, building speed with your every cry and whimper. He can feel you tightening around his digits and by the way you’re trembling, he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

“Caleb - I can’t; I don’t know what’s happening, I’m -” You’re babbling incoherently, a scared edge to your tone as you surrender to the pleasure and exhaustion.

“Gonna come for me, just let go, be a good girl.”

Caleb’s encouragement and new nickname for you cause something to snap, the sound of his voice and feeling of his tongue and fingers taking your body hostage. You hate when Caleb uses his evol on you to bully you, but the feeling of his command forcing you onto his face as he demands pleasure from you has you sobbing his name. You give into him as that tightly wound coil inside of you snaps, your whole body going limp as your brain short-circuits, black dots fading in and out of your vision.

It barely registers when his evol releases you because as soon as the force is gone, he’s catching you with his arms and maneuvering your trembling body down his own so he can hold you to his chest. 

“Good girl, you did so good for me,” he murmurs, threading his fingers through your hair to soothingly stroke it. “You okay?”

“I’m - I’m okay, what about you?” You manage between deep, shuddering breaths.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But - you didn’t -”

Caleb shifts beneath you and it registers that he’s trying to keep his lower half away away from you. You look back and notice a spreading wet spot at the front of those sweats of his you hate so much.

“I did,” He says sheepishly as you turn back to meet his gaze.  “That was more for me than it was for you. Did I push you too far? Do you feel okay? Fuck - I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry after that.”

 Your voice is watery and Caleb notices immediately.

“No, no I’m not sorry it happened, I just try so hard around you to keep it all locked in, but I couldn’t. You drive me fucking insane, you know that right? Like you have to know how stupid you make me.”

“That bad, huh?” You joke.

“Worse. Give me a second to catch my breath and then we’ll get cleaned up, okay?”

“Okay – Caleb?”

“Hm?”

“Can I … Um… is there anything I can do for you?”

Caleb laughs, fighting the urge to divulge how badly he wants you to fuck the last couple of decades of frustration out of him.

“I don’t think you wanna open that can of worms tonight, you already can’t move. Just let me take care of you. There is something you can do for me next time, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Just send me a fuckin’ text if you’re gonna show up early!”

[nocturnalcharm]

Faking It (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

𐙚 prompt: charles forces you and logan to do a mission together in order to help you bond. 𐙚 cw: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, if this does well i’ll do a part 2 w smut ;) cussing, 𐙚 a/n:  thanks to everyone who's sent me req's! this wasnt a req but id already started it haha if youve sent a req ill try to get to it asap.... also so many ppl wanted to be added to a taglist but for the nsfw alphabet post i dont think it tagged like half the ppl?? so im sorry if u dont get tagged, im trying to fix it :)

18+ blog!! you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any of the above makes you uncomfortable, do not proceed.

“Professor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“(Y/N), it’s not me you should be apologizing to. It’s your team. That’s who you both let down.” He eyes flick between you and Logan.

“I’ll go apologize to them now.” You turn to leave.

“You too Logan.” Charles says.

On this latest mission, you needed to sneak into a factory and take down all of the enemies— But you and Logan were arguing so loudly, you alerted all of the rivals, turning a few quick sneak attacks into full blown fights. No one was badly injured but you still felt horrible about it.

“This is all your fault.” You mumbled, just loud enough for Logan to hear.

“My fault? You’re kidding.” He huffs.

“Shut up.” You walk ahead of him, on the way to the common room to see your team.

Everyone was sitting there, talking amongst themselves. Once you and Logan entered, they all stopped their conversations and looked at you.

“Guys. I am so sorry about this mission.”

“I’m sorry, extremely sorry, and I apologize for my behavior.” Logan mocked your expression of regret.

“You are such a child, Logan! I’m trying to apologize!” You raised your voice.

“I am too!”

“Can you two just stop?” Hank stood up, silencing you both. “Your attitudes have been getting in the way of every mission. If you guys can’t get along then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh..” You didn’t know how to respond. You couldn’t believe you let your dislike for Logan get in the way of your job, so much that they thought you shouldn’t be an X-Man anymore.

They all left the room, leaving just you and Logan to culminate in your thoughts.

“I think it’s pretty obvious we’re not going to get along any time soon.” He broke the silence.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, whatever you say.” He walked out, as you sat in the empty room.

The next day, Xavier called you and Logan into his office yet again. You were concerned, worried he might be kicking you off the team. But instead, he said he had a mission for you two.

“I need you to pose as a couple. You’ll be going to an upscale hotel in Manhattan. It’s a cover for a drug smuggling ring. You two will stay as guests in order to collect information. I need everyone that is there, guests and workers alike, to think you two are madly in love. We don’t know who could be involved, so we can’t have them think anything suspicious.”

“Professor, is that the best idea? We just blew the last mission because we couldn’t stop arguing.”

“If you two fail this mission, I will have no choice but to replace both of you. You are amazing at what you do, but your arguing affects everyone. Not just yourselves.”

“Okay. We won’t let you down.” Logan speaks up.

***

The trip to the hotel was long and frustrating. You two couldn’t agree on anything the entire time. You criticized his driving, he criticized what you put on the radio, and how loud it was. You called him an old man, which just resulted in the radio being turned off and continuing the last hour drive there in silence.

When you arrived, it was late afternoon. Logan, pretending to be your fiance, grabbed all the bags by himself and walked inside. The hotel was huge. It was upscale, classy. So fancy you were afraid to touch anything, in fear it might break.

“Hi! Checking in for Anderson.” He greeted the front desk clerk, giving his forged name. He dropped the bags on the floor and you wrapped yourself around his now-free arm, squeezing it.

“Hello, Mr. Anderson.” She smiled back, “Let’s see. You had the penthouse, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“We’re celebrating our engagement!” You beamed, holding out your hand, showing off your fake engagement ring.

“That’s lovely. Congratulations! We’ll have a bottle of champagne in your room for celebration.”

“Thank you so much!” You squeaked.

He finished the check-in process, then you headed to the top floor.

The penthouse was absolutely gorgeous. It was huge, the size of a decent apartment. Just like the lobby, you were afraid to break something.

“Wow.. This is amazing. Only time I’ll ever get to stay in a penthouse and it’s with you.” You said, as he shut the door.

“I was just thinking the same thing. Now, c’mon we gotta go to the pool. Get changed.” He handed you your bag.

You opened it, pulling out your bikini. It was the only one you had, admittedly from a few years ago. You didn’t have time anymore to relax by a pool or go swimming in the ocean, so this swimsuit had to do. It was a simple black string bikini.

You went inside the bathroom to change. Once you had your swimsuit on, you felt a little self conscious at the amount of skin showing, but figured it’d help with the whole ‘can’t keep your hands off your new fiance’ vibe you and Logan needed to exude for this mission.

You walked out of the bathroom, faking confidence you didn’t have. Logan had taken the opportunity to just change in the living space since he was alone. He was wearing black swim trunks. It was funny, it looked like you two had matched on purpose.

“Wow.” He said quietly, clearing his throat.

“What? You like what you see?” You joked at his clear uncomfortableness with seeing you in such little clothing.

“Whatever, let’s just go.” He spat, grabbing two towels, the key, and exiting the room.

The second you were out the door, you both had big smiles on your face. His arm was around you, holding your side as you headed to the pool.

It wasn’t too busy, just a few kids with their parents, and a bartender at the outdoor bar. You told him you wanted a drink, so that’s where you headed first.

“Hey, can I get two Mojitos?” Logan asked, handing him the room key “And can you just charge it to our room?”

“Of course,” He started working on the drinks immediately, while you two sat and people-watched. He finished the drinks, and gave you them and the room key back.

You said thank you as you walked off, hoping Logan would just follow. There was a small hot tub that was empty, so that’s where you went. You stepped in carefully, afraid of slipping, and sat down in the warm water.

“Really?” Logan whispered, a fake smile still adorned on his face.

“This is what couples do, Logan. And we’re a couple for this weekend. So sit down and act like you love me, sweetie.” Your grin was starting to hurt your cheeks.

He sat down across from you, and you mentally rolled your eyes. You got up, and repositioned yourself, sitting in his lap, “What part of ‘act like you love me’ are you not getting?” 

He was frozen for a moment, caught off guard but quickly acted like he was happy to have you there, to not draw suspicion. You both took sips of your drink, as you continued to nonchalantly looked around.

You two stayed at the pool for awhile, taking mental notes of the guests and employees you saw. Honestly, this hotel didn’t seem too strange. But Xavier said it was a front so you guessed that’s why it seemed so normal, for their cover.

Once your drinks were empty, and the sun had started to go down, you both decided to head back up to the room. He got out drying himself off before wrapping you up in your towel. He picked you up and carried you bridal-style to the penthouse.

“Logan!”

“What? Just acting like I love you.” He smirked.

Once inside the room, he set you down. “I’m gonna go shower.” You stated, not really knowing what to do. 

He just nodded, walking off to the kitchenette. You grabbed your bag and headed to the bathroom.

***

You mentally cursed yourself as you scrambled through your bag, searching for a pair of pajama shorts you thought you packed, but they were nowhere to be found. 

“This cannot be real.” You whispered. The only other clothes you brought were jean shorts, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sleep in those.

You pulled out your oversized sleepshirt, putting it on. The hem landed right above the middle of your thigh. It was a little shorter than the length of a nightgown, so you just hoped he wouldn’t notice. You slipped on a pair of panties, snatched up your things, and exited the bathroom.

You immediately bumped into Logan, who was standing right outside the door.

“What the fuck?” You raised your voice, annoyed. “Why are you right outside the door?”

“I was about to knock. You’ve been in there for over an hour.”

“It’s all yours!” You sassed.

You walked over to the small kitchen, and see he had already opened up the champagne. You had a glass as you sat on a barstool, writing down some notes about the people you’d observed earlier. Pouring yourself another glass, you headed over to the bed.

Just as you made yourself comfortable, Logan came out of the washroom, in just a towel. You stared at his wet torso for a moment, hypnotized.

“My eyes are up here.” He laughed.

You looked up, embarrassed.

“Forgot my clothes. Hey, wait, why are you in the bed?”

“…Because I’m the girl?”

“You're also the short one. I can’t fit on that couch.”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s a big bed. We can both fit just fine. Unless you’re nervous. Never slept with a girl before, Lo?”

He sighed, clearly not wanting to argue, before taking his clothes and escaping back to the bathroom. You silently celebrated your victory.

He came out a few moments later, turning off the lights, sliding under the blankets and getting comfortable. You both ended up facing the same direction. If he was any closer, he’d be the big spoon, but there was a few inches separating you.

You adjusted your body, and accidentally felt your ass rub against him. You went rigid from humiliation, before scooting away slightly, ignoring it since he didn’t say anything.

You tried to fall asleep, but it was difficult, for many reasons. One, you’re not used to having someone else in your bed. Two, he was breathing heavily. Three, you couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy he was.

Of course, you knew Logan was attractive, you’d thought that since the moment you first saw him. But today, probably because of the faux-gagement, the touching, the flirting, you saw him differently. He was still getting on your nerves, but the flames between you two… His body… It was unlike before.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You twiddled your feet, moving around your body nervously, before unintentionally grazing your ass against his crotch again.

“Y’know, if you keep rubbing your ass against my dick, I’m gonna do something about it.” His words sounded gruff in your ear, but they gave you butterflies.

“Maybe that’s what I want.” 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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