#or however long it takes for the truck to get here

[fluffyapathybunny]

Shoutout to my coworker who decided to walk out an hour after her shift started because she was pissed at our store manager for something that isn't his fault (wages are determined by the rich corporate who don't care) and was very passive aggressive to me even though I literally had nothing to do with anything, leaving us without a fucking cashier until one was able to come in two hours later.

Grow the fuck up, or fucking quit. You had the whole weekend to seethe about it.

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 4

Word Count ~ 4.5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ minor blood and violence, sexual content

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You’ve only barely begun to recover from the wrung out feeling of ultimate bliss when you hear it: the warning klaxon, followed by the sound of tires screeching to a halt. The aggressive roar of truck engines. Doors opening in rapid succession. Loud voices and boots pounding on pavement.

The doppelgänger jerks upright, sliding off the bed and wrenching the curtains to one side to peer down at the scene unfolding on the street below. “They’re here,” he says, and for the first time you detect something like fear wafting from the imposter.

A flood of relief washes over you. Someone had alerted the disposal unit. It wasn’t too late to save lives after all.

You search for your discarded clothing, hurriedly sliding the retrieved garments back into place. Francis’ copy looks at you.

“They’ll know you let me in.”

“Yes,” you agree distractedly, hastily shoving the hem of your blouse back beneath the waist of your skirt.

“They’ll know,” he says again, more firmly this time, moving in front of you, one hand closing around the wrist you’ve yet to refasten the shirt cuff upon. “They’ll know about me.”

You stare at him, realization kicking in. The others were safe. You, however, had no such guarantee. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I should. You’re a liability.” His grip on you abruptly relaxes. He’s merely holding you now. “Your organization will punish you for this.”

You shake your head, trying to hastily tuck your hair back into place. “Not once they hear my explanation.”

The intruder scowls. “What defense will you offer? You knowingly let a replicant into your precious building.”

“I…” Your confidence wavers as you begin to consider how your actions will appear. He’s right. There’s no excuse for what you’ve done. You’ve not only failed at your assigned task, you’ve betrayed your own kind. An unforgivable crime.

He seems to read the slight panic on your features, his voice gentling. “Suppose we make a deal,” he says.

You look at him warily. “What kind of deal?”

“I make it look like you were attacked while you tried to fend me off. Make up some doppelgänger appearance when they ask you. Don’t tell them about Francis’ death. You get to live. I get to go down the fire escape, avoiding extinction.”

A life for a life, in essence. The elevator was temporarily disabled the second the alarm was pushed, but it won’t take the team long to sweep each floor. You were running out of time.

“Okay,” you reluctantly agree.

He turns your arm over so the underside is exposed, thumb pressing firmly just below the hollow of your elbow. “This will hurt,” he cautions. The only warning you get before you see it: that thing inside of the milkman breaking through, emerging. A sickly gray-green digit topped with a sharp yellow claw. He drags it right through the fabric of your shirt, right through your skin. It burns. A blossoming line of red appears, your lifeforce weeping out of the laceration. You feel lightheaded and nauseous.

“Don’t look at it. And don’t let it get on the carpet. We need to leave, now.” He steps back into the milkman’s shoes, not even bothering with the laces. You follow him to the front door, exiting the apartment. Locked again. You hear voices echoing in the stairwell, the heavy tred of the suited disposal unit pounding on the steps.

“Remember what I said.” The imitation’s knuckles graze your cheek, the touch almost tender. The injured arm cradled against your chest is throbbing. “I’m going to knock you out. It will help further disguise what happened.” The voices are getting louder. They’ve finished on the second floor, making their way to the third. The doppel’s fingers curl around the back of your neck, his mouth brushing yours hurriedly before your head is slammed against the wall, sending you hurtling into a void of darkness.

***

There is a debriefing after the incident.

No casualties. The residents were safe, excluding Francis, of course. You have a lie ready to account for his sudden absence. You say you’d heard him mention something about an emergency visit to a sick relative in a neighboring city as he’d dashed out the front door earlier that day. A phone call to his employer wouldn’t match this story, of course. You weren’t sure what family the man even had. None that would corroborate your fabrication, certainly. You were just hoping that your claim about him needing to leave abruptly very early in the morning without contacting anyone was convincing enough. It’s all you can think of on the spur of the moment.

The director, a severe looking middle aged man, frowns over the lenses of his glasses at you. You keep your hands folded tightly in your lap. Your stitched wound is slowly healing, the ache now a sort of dull throbbing that you’re consciously aware of from time to time. No apparent signs of infection, the surrounding skin clear.

“Your track record, up until now, has been impeccable.” The older man’s voice brings you out of your reverie.

“Yes, sir.” It’s true. For six months you’d performed your role as doorman perfectly. Never failing to detect a single doppelgänger. Protecting the innocent.

“Still, this is not a transgression that can simply be overlooked. The consequences of your misjudgment could have been dire.”

You’d stated that you’d realized the person requesting entrance was really a copy only after the door had been opened, catching an error on the paperwork at the last minute. Intervening, attempting to stall the intruder. Injured and knocked unconscious. You knew nothing more after that.

“It’s suspicious that none of this alleged false documentation has been retrieved at the site. Strange also that you’d been carried all the way to the third floor. We also have no record even remotely matching the description of the doppel you’ve given. How do you account for these discrepancies?”

“The replicant stated they were a new resident moving in to the vacant apartment on the third floor. It seemed plausible that there hadn’t been a chance for them to be featured on the day’s list yet. It’s hardly the first time someone’s name hasn’t been placed as it should be. The subtly incorrect DDD logo was the tip off I unfortunately picked up on too late, sir.” You pause, clearing your throat. There is virtually no moisture left in your mouth and you find it suddenly parchment dry. It’s difficult to speak, your nerves betraying you. “The replicant must have taken the paperwork with them in order to conceal the evidence. And I was knocked out immediately after being cut. I don’t remember anything after that.”

His lips press into a thin line. Your force yourself to maintain eye contact. This was your explanation and you could not falter. “Even so. You failed to follow protocol. And you failed to contact the disposal team.”

“There wasn’t time to dial the phone number. Not even time to sound the alarm. I simply reacted on instinct. I was hoping to…”

“To what? What did you think you would accomplish? You, a mere unarmed woman?” He drapes the last word in contempt. You flush, squirming in your seat at the insult.

The suited man sighs heavily, closing your file folder. “You’re going to be suspended without pay for one week. Then I expect you to return to work. Your temporary replacement is…less than ideal. Let me be clear, though: if anything else happens, you’ll be terminated. No debriefing. No excuses. Understood? This is your final warning.”

You nod, saving your sigh of relief for when you’ve exited the office. The air departs your lungs in a loud rush. You’d done it. You’d actually managed to talk your way out of it.

Your thoughts immediately shift to Francis’ doppelgänger.

He was out there, somewhere. The safest move would be to travel, to just flee the area entirely, but you doubt he’ll leave. He’s still here.

You can feel him.

***

You drive to your house, to the home of your childhood. An inheritance from your great grandparents, passed down through each generation. Outside of the city. Quiet. It’s a relief to see green again. The air smells clearer, too. No waste from factory smokestacks or concentrated exhaust from automobiles. A light scent of grass and summer wildflowers. You roll your window down, inhaling deeply. It’s the best you’ve felt in a while. Since before the incident.

Francis. Your good mood departs just as quickly as it had arrived. How terrible a person you are. Lying to save your own skin. To protect the doppelgänger that had killed your beloved milkman. Putting innocent lives at risk. You had no right to feel anything even resembling happiness or contentment. You should turn the car right back around and return to the office. Confess your sins and receive whatever punishment would be decided for you. Imprisonment, certainly. Perhaps a life sentence to match the life that had been stolen from the third floor resident.

You trudge up the steps of the porch, sinking down onto the topmost stair, your head resting against the post of the railing. There are strips of paint peeling, you notice. You’ll need to sand them down before you apply more stain. Something to occupy you during your week off. Distract you from your own misery.

You close your eyes and listen to the hum of insects. There is another scent in the air now; something damp. The sky’s clouds were white and fluffy looking, but you know those can change in an instant. You think there is a storm approaching.

Perhaps you will wait it out. Just rest here and see what happens, studying your surroundings. There are birds singing in the vacant field that hasn’t known crops for many seasons. You only tended a much smaller one close to the house. Some vegetables. That was all. More often than not the local wildlife took a sample, but you didn’t mind sharing. You should have a look before you head back inside later on, see if there is anything to harvest.

It’s comfortable here. The sun is at the perfect angle. You still have plenty of shade. Warm enough to warrant rolling your shirt sleeves back. Catching sight of the scabbed, sutured line marring your forearm. You trace the mark. You think about the copycat tracing your cheek. That final kiss before he’d knocked you unconscious. It made so little sense to let you live. Had some remnant of Francis’ psyche influenced him somehow? Urging him to spare you?

Your eyes slide closed and you drift off to sleep still mulling this over.

***

In the dream you are standing in the nearby orchard.

You know it is a dream, because in reality these fruit trees are no longer tended. Yet here you are, standing beneath the crooked branches of one peach bearing specimen. The many smooth emerald leaves shield you from the sun.

Francis is beside you.

Or not-Francis. You cannot say which it is. The smile is as you remember. The perpetually tired eyes. He reaches for one of the velvet skinned fruits, plucking it easily and handing it to you.

The texture is exactly as it should be. Not too firm and not too soft. Ripe and ready to take a bite from. You do so, your teeth sinking into the soft yellow flesh. A burst of sweetness on your tongue. The excess juice drips down your chin. You offer the peach to the milkman but he doesn’t accept, instead moving to take a taste of it from your face, first doting on your lips before he laps at the dribbling trail. You clutch his shirt and his kisses become rougher. Pushing you gently to the ground. You drop the fruit and your hands become full of his shirt, his hair, the soft earth beneath you. His mouth plants kisses along your cheeks, your jaw, your neck. Hand dragging down through the floral patterned button front dress you’re wearing.

“Francis.” You reach for his face. It’s wrong. Something in the structure of the nose. So subtle it could easily be mistaken. The teeth suddenly bared in a smile that’s unfriendly. A grin of triumph. It isn’t Francis. You’ve been duped by an imposter.

The skin ripples. His eyes become bloodshot. You struggle to move. Your wrists are pinned at your sides. Sharp teeth nipping at the skin of your throat. A wolf ready to destroy its prey.

The thunder awakens you.

You jolt upright, massaging your stiff neck as you glance around hurriedly. The sky is a mass of gray clouds now, the natural illumination of the heavens notably dimmed. The air is laced with the scent of petrichor. You rise and the first drops of rain fall, pattering on your bare arms, sinking into you hair. Another disgruntled warning rumble, louder this time. The interval between that and the next shortening. You’re about to turn and enter the house when you see a figure standing nearby, on the outskirts of the side yard.

It’s him. The imposter that took over Francis.

The normally pristine, starched uniform is dirt stained, collecting souvenirs from the unpaved road leading to your house. The bowtie around his neck is loosened, draped around the unbuttoned shirt collar, the first several buttons of that work shirt similarly unfastened, revealing the white undershirt beneath. He’d never bothered retrieving the hat, the uncovered thatch of thick chestnut hair now tousled. Your fingers curl around the railing for support as he begins walking towards you with determined strides, closing the distance rapidly. The thunderstorm’s namesake harbinger sounds again. A flash of lightning. The rain is no longer a faint scattering of drops, now falling in an earnest deluge.

You both manage to escape being drenched, finding shelter beneath the porch roof in the knick of time, the imposter halting just in front of you. His chest is rapidly rising and falling, as if that brief exercise he’d just participated in was taxing him. You know that’s not the reason for those panted gasps for air, your own body mimicking that movement.

“Francis,” you say, but the name is drowned out by the growing ire of the storm.

He moves then, pressing you against the weathered clapboards near the living room window that overlooks the front yard. He cups your face between his hands and his lips crush yours. You respond without hesitation, kissing him back. Not giving yourself time to think about what you’re doing; to recall the dream you’d just had where you’d been destroyed by one of his kind.

“How did you find me?” You gasp when you part for air.

This utterance is barely audible, threaded between the next two bouts of thunder, muffled by the sound of the downpour. He slides his fingers against the harsh furrow on your arm. “I could sense where you were. Tracked you…” The words drowned out once again. His mouth moves close to your ear. “What did you say to them? What happened?”

“They bought it, for the most part, I think. The director is suspicious, though. I got suspended for a week.”

Another flash of lightning. It was foolish to remain outside any longer. You invite him in, struggling to fit the key in the lock, your trembling fingers not cooperating. His hand closes over yours, steadying you. The door surrenders, swinging inward.

It’s dark in the living room. You switch on the nearest lamp and toss your keys on the table.

“I’d offer you something to drink, but I don’t know if you still do that, or…” It was unknown what the doppelgängers consumed for nutrition. Perhaps it would be different now that they could occupy a human body and not merely disguise themselves as one.

“I do. But that can wait.”

“Did you know that would happen? You being able to trace my whereabouts when you cut me?”

“No. It’s uncharted territory. Like so much of…this,” he murmurs.

“You need to call Francis’ workplace. Explain to them that there was a family emergency. That’s the excuse I gave for the sudden absence. The DDD has been looking for you. Well, for him,” you correct yourself.

“They’ll expect me to return at some point.”

“Yes.”

“So you’ll let me in. To dwell there. And what of my brethren?”

“I can’t let them in. You know that.” You swallow nervously. “You can’t harm anyone. If I let you inside, you have to promise me you won’t. You got what you wanted. You got to be one of us. There’s no reason to hurt anyone else.”

A large clap of thunder makes you jump. The doppelgänger moves closer to you, tipping his head to one side thoughtfully. “You think I’ll cooperate?”

“We had a deal. I let you escape. I lied to protect you.”

“And I let you live. Both ends of the bargain fulfilled. There is no obligation beyond that.”

“You don’t want to hurt me.”

“Are you quite sure of that?” One arm circles your waist, drawing you against him. His fingers sift through your hair, tugging your head back slightly. “These hungers for the flesh are so distracting. How your kind manages them…” His voice trails off and his lips touch yours.

The light flickers and dies. You’ve lost electricity, now standing in the darkened room cradled by the deceiver.

“<i>The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep</i>…”

You inhale sharply, thinking of the Bible on Francis’ nightstand. Reading scripture like any good devout soul, learning verses by heart. That memory resurfacing now.

“Francis.” You know it’s no longer him, not in his purest, human essence, but this evolution still holds traces like this that you can’t help but hold dear.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” His hands slide down over the curve of your buttocks as he kisses the corner of your jaw. You guide him towards the nearby couch, watching him sink into the cushions before you climb into his lap, your shoes sliding off and falling to the hardwood floor. You run your fingers through his hair, your mouth ravaging his. It’s the parts of Francis that you love that you’re adoring, you tell yourself. Not the pretender, but the fragments of the man inside he still carries with him. That is what your fingers caress and your mouth cherishes. You unbutton his shirt the rest of the way, then reach for the belt buckle, jerking the leather strap free from the metal, all while your lips and tongue work in a frenzy over his.

The rain and the thunder becomes white noise, a nearly muted sound in the background as you unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper, the metal teeth parting to reveal white briefs. You touch his erection through that thin material, feeling the hard, thick line of it and he hisses, then groans somewhere near your neck.

“Yes, love, that’s what I need…”

You shove your hand beneath the elastic waistband and you make contact with feverish flesh. Another groan from the imposter. You sweep over the head of his cock, realizing he’s circumcised, smoothing leaking precum over the dome before you wrap your fingers around the shaft and begin stroking up and down. He moans into your mouth. It’s not the best angle, your hand a bit squashed awkwardly between your bodies. You slide off his thighs to sit beside him, never breaking contact, still pumping his prick, rolling your fingers over the crest as you reach the top, thumb dragging over the frenulum with each pass. Your tongue dances over his and you feel the arousal leaking from your own sex, soaking your panties.

Another glob of clear fluid oozes from the tip and your mouth waters. You want to taste it. Want to feel him in your mouth.

Your lips abandon his and he frowns, confused until he sees your head bowing over his lap, your body shifting as you engulf his turgid member. Another hissing sound of pleasure as the slightly musky flavor hits your taste buds. You haven’t fully taken him inside yet, only reaching close to halfway, applying suction as you move across that shallow expanse, allowing yourself to become accustomed to the length and girth of him. His fingers touch your head, not applying force, just resting there. You release his cock with a wet popping sound, stroking your saliva over his erection before taking him into your mouth again. You push deeper this time, forcing your lips closer to the base of his cock, to the nest of dark pubic hair. Your throat protests and you gag, the fingers on your head now tightening, pressing, urging you on.

“Sweet girl, that’s it, you can take it. All the way. Fuck.” The curse is something you’d never imagine coming from the milkman’s lips, but you find yourself aroused by it, the depravity of what you’re doing erotic. Your head bobs, dipping lower each time, eliciting an obscene wet squelching sound as his prick collides with your throat. There’s a higher pitch to his sounds of pleasure now. His hips lift to meet you, shoving him in as deep as he can reach while your nostrils flare, searching for a greater air supply.

Your nails dig into this thigh. The loosened belt buckle jingles with each thrust into that moist cavity you’ve provided. The fingers in your hair loosen, allowing you a brief respite. You withdraw and cough. A thick trail of saliva connects your lower lip to his glistening cock. Your fingers massage through the slick and he hums appreciatively. Your lips feel slightly numb, tingling from the stretch. There’s a burning sensation in your abused throat, a soreness when you swallow. But the discomfort is bearable. You want to do this. You want him to feel good.

You suck in a lungful of air and then begin again. You hear the replicant’s breathing becoming shallower, more rapid. He’s getting close. You redouble your efforts, moving fast and deep.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to make me…it’s so fucking good…”

His hips snap up and an acrid spill of semen floods your throat. It catches you by surprise and you choke around the pulsing erection. It’s a copious amount of seed that spills over your retreating tongue. You swallow down the last of the bitter fluid, straightening, dragging the back of your hand across your spit drenched chin.

“That was…you…” The creature is speechless. You can’t help but feel a little pride over that. He captures your lips, mulling over the taste he’s left there. “I want to taste you,” he says, and your pussy throbs. “I want you to cum inside my mouth.”

He moves off the couch, kneeling in front of you. Shoving at your skirt. You hurriedly hook your thumbs over the edge of your panties and drag them down, feeling how wet the crotch is as they drag across your legs. Scooting closer to the edge, spreading yourself open for him.

His face moves forward and his tongue parts your folds. Laving down to gather a sample of your arousal. Humming with approval at the taste of you as he focuses on your clit. A long, slow drag over the sensitive nub. You whimper. His thumbs wedge along either side of your sex, stretching the pink flesh further open. His mouth covers your cunt and he sucks and your thighs try to close, the sensation overwhelming.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re delicious.” Slurping on your clit now. You thread your fingers through his hair, caressing his head as his tongue flicks across the hooded button. He doesn’t need guidance this time. Everything is the way you like it. Dividing attention between your clitoris and the entrance of your pussy. Pushing that muscle inside, fucking you with his tongue, alternating with lapping at your bundle of nerve endings. You wish it wasn’t quite so dark. You want to see his eyes. You know he’s looking at you even if he can’t discern much in the dim gray light filtering in through the windows. Watching your reaction even as he feels it in his mouth. Hears the pleading, the needy gasps and moans, the whining that begins the closer you get to coming apart in his mouth.

He moans, too, and the vibrations of that sound add another layer to your pleasure. A finger makes its way inside you. Violated by a second soon after, thrusting while he sucks your clit. You climax, panting his name over and over, your fingers frantic in his hair, your pelvis quaking as your grind yourself against him.

Eventually your movements lessen. He eases back and your quivering legs draw closed. He rejoins you on the couch, his mouth on yours, gifting you a taste of yourself.

Then you sit quietly, listening to the diminishing storm outside. The rain drums on the roof and taps along the gutters with a soft metallic sound. Your face is tucked into the doppel’s shoulder, one hand resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, his arm curled around your shoulders.

You shouldn’t enjoy this. Any of this. You should be afraid, disgusted. Instead you feel oddly calm. Safe in his arms, even though you certainly aren’t. These alien beings were masters of deception and manipulation. You know better. It was foolish, what you were doing. Dangerous—for you, for everyone else.

But you’re convinced more than ever that some part of Francis is still buried within. The goodness of him negating the evil of this imposter.

“I’ll make the call in the morning.” The first words spoken in a long time. Your head lifts. “And I’ll move in to the apartments.”

“Just you. And you won’t harm anyone.”

“You ask for too much.”

“I’m giving up everything for you. Risking my job, my life, the lives of the people I’ve sworn to protect. My heart. My soul,” you finish with a whisper. “I don’t think you understand how many things I’m sacrificing.”

“I’m not human. It’s impossible for me to. There are no words for them in our language because they simply don’t exist.”

“But you want to be us. You should understand…”

“I will make the call and I will move in. Beyond that I am not promising you anything. Except…I do not want you harmed.” He reaches for your arm, tracing over the healing wound he’d inflicted. “I will try to prevent that, at least.”

A small concession, perhaps, but an important one nonetheless. If he was willing to spare you, maybe you could convince him to spare others.

Teach him the value of a human life while taming the monster within that wears the face of the man you love.

[ckret2]

So y'all know the Gravity Falls production bible that leaked three weeks ago. Someone in one of my discord servers pointed this out:

And, naturally, that spawned an entire AU.

AU Concept: Ford was kicked out instead of Stan and takes a job as a trucker to makes ends meet since he couldn't go to college, while still studying the weird and anomalous however he can.

Ford driving around from quirky small town to quirky small town, drifting through the liminal spaces of truck stops, meeting odd people in isolated diners, seeing strange things out on the road—a deer with too many eyes bounding across a two-lane highway, a flirty woman at a rest stop who doesn't blink or breathe, mysterious lights in the sky at night, inhuman growls on the CB or 50-year-old broadcasts on the radio—and taking notes when he stops for gas or food.

Aside from having gotten kicked out before graduating high school, Ford's the same person he is in canon.

He's still an ambitious guy, and here "ambitious" means working hard and saving as much money as he can—so, a long haul owner-operator who spends weeks at a time on the road. (He goes through a LOT of educational audiobooks.) Plus, this is the easiest way for him to get to travel the country; and since it looks like his "travel the world" dreams with Stan are dead, he'll take what he can get.

Since he's never in the same spot long and carries his life in a truck, almost all of Ford's research is in his journal. His bag of investigation supplies has an instant camera, a portable tape recorder, a thermometer, a flashlight, rubber gloves, and a few zip lock bags—and that's about it. It has to share space with all his clothes, toiletries, and nonperishable food when he's on the road. He doesn't have much opportunity to closely examine anything odd he finds, unless he's lucky enough to run into something when he can stop for the night. He has to cram his paranormal research around the side of his full-time job.

He doesn't live in Gravity Falls, but he knows it exists. Every time he moves—to Chicago, to Nebraska, to California—he seems to inch closer. He currently lives in Portland and usually hauls loads between the Pacific Northwest and Chicago or New York. He stops at the truck stop outside Gravity Falls when he can and has gone fishing in town a few times. He doesn't have the benefit of extensive research to know that this is the weirdest town in the world; but it seems pretty weird to him, there are local rumors about the town, and he's had some weird experiences in the area.

Plus, he can't explain it, but it's like the town's calling to him. He wants to move there, but it'd put him over an hour outside of Portland where the nearest jobs are. Maybe if somebody chucked him like $100k to build a cabin in the woods; but what are the odds of that?

He does know Fiddleford. Truck broke down somewhere and Fiddleford kindly pulled over to fix it on the fly. They looked at each other, had mutual knee-jerk "dumb trucker/hillbilly" reactions, and within ten minutes both went "oh wait you're the most brilliant genius i've ever met." Fiddleford's living the same life he was in canon before Ford called him to Gravity Falls—with his family in California, trying to start a computer company out of his garage—but they make friends and keep in contact.

One time Ford stops at a kitschy roadside knickknack store that also sells new agey magic things—crystals, tarot cards, incense, etc. He bought a "lucky" rearview mirror ornament that looks like an Eye of Providence in a top hat and hung it from his cab fan, and ever since then he's had weird dreams whenever he sleeps in his truck.

Things I don't know yet: what Stan's up to; or why Ford's the one who got kicked out. I tend to believe that in canon Stan wasn't just kicked out because he ruined Ford's college prospects, but rather because the family thought he deliberately sabotaged Ford; so in this AU, Ford would've been kicked out over a proportionate crime.

[melonn-soda]

Kinktober Day 3 - Dazai Osamu

word count: 3.2k

warnings: HATE SEX, dubcon, cuffing, overstim, slight dumbification, edging, dazai calls u petnames and he's an ass, reader is a slight brat, bottom cis male reader, top ftm dazai

prompt: dazai visits his favorite mafia member and gives him a little reunion gift

notes: READ WITH CAUTION, THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK THEMES. tell me if there's any other warnings I should add, please. sorry these prompts are super fucking late. different texting style but I'll go back after kinktober prompts are all posted. still currently working on the other ones because this is taking longer than expected. too much plot going on with them lmao. anyways, I'm tired of ftm characters always being on the bottom, so I contribute this. trans dazai canon because I'm trans and I said so.

fem aligned dni

The air blew a cold breeze around Yokohama, chilling the residents of the city and keeping them locked up inside their homes. Nobody went outside without some sort of extra layer to protect themselves from the chill of the atmosphere, either wearing jackets or hoodies over shirts when they strolled down the streets. Dazai Osamu blew hot air into his palms to warm them up as he walked down the sidewalk, eyeing every shop that was on his right. The bakery he passed by was closing down due to lack of patrons and he made sure to get some pastries for Atsushi, Ranpo, and himself beforehand. Some clothing shops were bathing in money because of the upcoming fall and winter seasons approaching faster with people preparing for the cold days by purchasing thick layered clothes. Every store was having its own ups and downs at the moment.

Even with all the tempting things he could buy, he still passed by most of them until he was at the edge of the city, with fewer people and cars coming in and out of this area. There were a few supply trucks coming in and out because of all the supply shipments coming in but that was going to be all. However, Dazai didn’t come to the warehouse for no reason. After all, he always went to somewhere that had a purpose.

He walked through the gates without anyone stopping him, walking to a particular warehouse before pushing the doors open. It was dark and gloomy in the place, yet felt strangely warm from the contrasting colder outside weather. Dazai made sure his steps were slow and quiet, keeping his presence minorly hidden to avoid getting himself hurt if someone were to attack him. He made sure to peek around the corners of supply crates to make sure no one was going to blast bullets directly at his face, eyes scanning with caution in every area he invaded.

A loud clang alerted his senses, and the sound of sizzling came humming after. Dazai’s intuition was right, he was here doing exactly as he thought he would. Footsteps increasing in speed, he rushed towards the source of the sound, still making sure to look over corners rather than going in head-on. Since he wasn’t that far away from his target, it didn’t take him long to get there, seeing the person he was looking for with a mischievous smile. Oh, how he missed seeing his face.

The burned part of a shipping container was melted off in the shape of a circle, laying on the ground as the material was still a glowing red before returning to its original color. The man who stood next to it, the person who caused the eruption of a loud noise from metal hitting cement was none other than his long lost Port Mafia ex-coworker. [l.name], [name]. So many memories were shared with that boy since they’ve known each other since their teens. 

Dazai watched you step into the shipping container, following after you and watching as you rummaged through products, putting multiple things up to inspect before putting them back in place. He knew which product you were looking for and where it was, eyes landing on the box before flicking back onto your figure. With silent steps, he walked in, but once his other foot was placed inside, a loud creak was made and it alerted you to fire a burst of flames that shot out from your palms. Dazai, of course, saw it coming as he leaned so that he narrowly missed it, feeling the heat on his chest before grabbing your wrist and moving his weight around to get himself behind you and out to safety before using his foot to swipe and make you lose your balance. Alarmed and unprepared, you fell onto your stomach as Dazai moved your arm behind you mid-fall, getting your hands effectively pinned against your back.

“Ah~, [name], always so reliant on his ability. It was always your biggest flaw, y’know?” Dazai began to tease, pressing his knee against your lower back to keep you on the ground. He watched you try and wriggle out of his hold, knowing that you were too physically weak to actually break free. Weaker than him, I dare say.

“Dazai! What the fuck are you doing here? Let me go!” You scowled, glaring at him over your shoulder, cheek pressing against the cold metal. Your eyes still held the deep fire as always, so bright whenever you got fired up or even mad. The ex-Port Mafia executive always found that really cute about you, but he never really admitted it out loud, only doing it if he wanted to get a reaction out of you.

“Looking for you, of course!” He chimed with a playful smile, one that always managed to piss you off, “I figured you would be here looking for that really important document from overseas, but I can’t have you getting your hands on it. After all, we’re enemies, are we not? I have to do everything in my power to foil your devious plans.”

You tried thrashing around a little harder as he spoke, not wanting to see or even be within a 100-foot radius of this man, “Can’t you just leave me be this once, you fucking psychopath!?” You yelled out, clearly upset with the predicament you found yourself in. Chuuya really needed those papers and if he found out you didn’t even get the chance to find them, you don’t want to know how mad he might get.

“Oh my, is that the way you should be talking to your past loving boyfriend?” The brunet gasped in mock offense, leaning in a little closer to your ear.

Your face flared slightly at the closeness, “Past!! We’re not dating anymore, sicko. We broke it off the minute you left the Mafia, or have you forgotten?” You glowered at him, “For years, I’ve wondered where and how you were, only to get a message from an unknown number that told me we can’t be together anymore. I knew it was you because of your texting style.”

“But I can tell that you still want me,” Dazai continued to poke around with your feelings, not caring about any of the consequences that might follow after. He heard you immediately deny it all within a seconds notice but, “Oh, but you do still desire me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be blushing so hard over me just whispering thiiis~ close to your ear.” He chuckles as you shift your face so that he couldn’t see it.

“Just get the hell off of me.” You threatened weakly, feeling him shift around slightly while still on top of you.

You could hear Dazai sigh in what seemed to be in disappointment before he yanked you up and got you to sit on his lap. Dazai was sitting on the floor and you could feel your face grow even hotter as his body pressed against yours even more in this position.

“Y’know, I could really care less about you taking those documents. I didn’t come here to stop you either,” The detective told you, causing your eyes to widen and look back at him, “I only decided to foil your plans because I wanted to see you again. Do things we never got to do with you. For instance,” with a pause, one of his hands let go of your wrists and teasingly slid down your waist, getting dangerously close to your sex, “now that we’re adults, you can lose yourself to me.”

The last parts of his words were said in a whisper, causing a shiver to go down your spine as your lips pursed to suppress a whine. However, your body decided to show your true feelings you held towards the brunet with your dick hardening and sensitivity going to overdrive. You still loved Dazai, you really did, but you didn’t expect to react this way. Maybe it was because of the stress from the Port Mafia? I mean, it has been months since you’ve last jerked off.

“Oh dear, it seems like you're getting excited.” Dazai chuckled next to your left ear, his hand gently brushing against your crotch as you let out a whimper, “and your sounds are just the cutest.~ I’ve been imagining this scenario so many times, and now that it’s happening, it’s hard to believe that it’s ending up like this.”

A strained moan left your lips as you could feel his hand press harder against the tip of your cock, head falling forward in shame over turning into putty from just his voice and soft touches alone. In a near desperate tone, you still attempted to resist his efforts, “S-stop- this isn’t right-!”

“You may say so but your lovely body still craves my touch.” You could feel his fingers undo your pants and slip into your underwear, his cold touch coming into contact with your blistering heat, “You still desire me, otherwise, why would you still keep pictures of me on your wall after so many years, huh?”

“Go.. ah- fuck yourself.” You growled, a loud wince ripping through your throat at a particular tug at your cock, your back unconsciously arching and the back of your head hitting against Dazai’s shoulder, “Shit, shit, shit!”

“When did you become such a brat?” Dazai huffed out annoyingly, “Have you been spending too much time with that stupid slug? It looks like he’s beginning to rub off on you.” His hand picked up in pace and technique with a squeal of surprise coming from your mouth causing the brunet to smile slightly, “Ah, but I think it might make breaking you even more enjoyable.~”

Tears began to spill from your eyes from the stimulation, whining and moaning pathetically in Dazai’s hold as he continued to pump your cock. He even noticed that you stopped retaliating against his ministrations, fully submitting from the pleasure racking your brain into a state of stupidity. God, you looked so good like this.

“Fuck!” You suddenly yelled, thighs quivering around Dazai’s legs, “I’m close, ‘Samu- can’t take anymore-!” Words slurring like you were drunk, your hips bucked to bring yourself to your release.

Much to your dismay, Dazai pulled his hand out of your pants promptly, causing you to whine in protest, “Not just yet, lovely. I wanna see you scream and beg me for mercy as I dumb you down into oblivion.” He whispered sweetly though menacingly, causing you to shudder in delight.

Within a blink of an eye, he slammed you back down on the cold metal floors face first, taking out handcuffs from his back pocket and locking them on your wrists. You took the time to catch your breath as he got up away from you to dig into one of the containers, pulling out a black box with gold lining on it. 

He took a seat next to your slumped figure with a mischievous smile on his face, opening the box and pulling out a solid black strap-on and a bottle of lube. The dildo was about 5-inches in length as far as you could tell, although there was nothing on the other side to please Dazai. Did he just buy that thing only to watch you become fucked out in ecstasy?

Dazai grabbed a bag of toy-cleaning wipes from the box as well, making sure to wipe the strap-on down as he continued to look at you deviously, “Do you like my surprise, lovely? Are you excited?”  He asked, removing some of his clothes to place the toy around his pelvis.

Your dick twitched in anticipation, drool pooling on the ground as you looked dazedly at the sheer size of it, “However,” Dazai interrupted, “Because you’re a virgin, you’ll have to wait. After all, you’re nothing but my fragile little doll. As much as I would love to see you crumble, I wanna take my time shattering you.” He smirked, popping open the bottle and spilling its contents over his long, pretty fingers.

Positioning himself behind you, he gently grabbed your hips with his non-lubed fingers to lift your ass up into the air. Pushing only one of his fingers in your hole, he continued to pour lube consistently onto his hands to keep your insides from tearing. It wasn’t even 30 seconds before he found your prostate, pressing on it harshly to see you jolt and gasp, easily making you into nothing but a plaything. Even still, the fucker avoided it on purpose for the next few minutes of stretching you out. He added finger after finger when he saw you ready for the next, but wouldn’t even press that specific area. 

After what seemed like an hour of teasing, he pulled out his fingers as you trembled on the cold floors. He wiped his fingers on the inner parts of his trench coat, hands then finding themselves on your waist to make it so you could feel the silicon against your thighs that were pressed together. You don’t know if you were enjoying this, or hating this.

“You ready, dollface?” He asked you, hands sliding up your chest and pulling you up so that your back came into contact with his body. You could feel the toy slip through your thighs for a brief second before he positioned it so that the tip could press against your hole, pressing lightly against your rim as you let out a shaky moan.

Glaring at him from the corner of your eye, you growled, “Just put it in, you asshole.” Maybe Chuuya has begun to influence your attitude.

With a grin, Dazai shoved you down onto the silicon dick without any lousy comebacks, causing a loud wince to fall from your lips. From the tip of the cock pressing against your prostate, you wailed pathetically in desire as your body was beginning to give up, letting your torso fall back onto the ground with a light thud. Your limbs started to feel like jelly, trembling terribly as Dazai pressed his hips even closer, reaching even deeper as you sobbed out in pleasure.

“Ah-! F-fuck-” You cried as Dazai began to pull out briefly before rocking his hips into yours repeatedly, setting a rhythm for himself. Incoherent ramblings spilled out of your cute lips as he continued to press against your prostate, your body feeling extremely heated.

“Oh, aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?” He cooed into your ear, one of his hands trailing up from your hips and to your nipple, pinching and pulling on it lightly to stimulate you further. He brought it up to his mouth to wet those fingers then returned them onto your chest, the slight chill making you shiver when the cold air brushed underneath your shirt, “So sensitive, too. I hope I’m the first person to see you like this.”

“U-urgh~... Dazai..” Words slurring and hiccups turning into broken moans spurred the brunet even further, pistoning his hips even better when he took ahold of one of your ankles and lifted it into the air with ease. You were just so cute like this.

“Osamu.”

Staccato moans turned into full on wails as you could feel the tip of the dildo poke at your prostate, sending you into a mess of tears and babbling nonsense. It was too much. It was all so much for you. From the edging Dazai did earlier, the pent up stress from being in the mafia, now the dick inside you that was ramming you into stupidity, you could feel yourself getting close to your orgasm. And fuck, if it didn’t come fast.

You were sobbing thick tears as cum spilled out of your pathetic excuse of a dick, seeing Dazai’s face contort into one of amusement as you came all over the floor. Body shaking from the heightened stimulation, you wanted a break, wailing at him in hopes to tell him to at least slow down.

You should really know better, though, because he’s an asshole and would do anything in his power to watch you crumble for his own entertainment. And you acting like you hated him only motivated him to fuck you even harder. So here he was, bending your left leg so that your knee nearly touched your chest while continuing to move his hips at his brutal pace. It didn’t help that his toy kept pressing into your sensitive spot either.

“W-wait! Nnng!” You cry out, fingernails digging into the metal of the shipping container, “Osa- ah! Osamu, sl-slow down-!” Your voice squeaked as he used his hand that was on your hip to press down hard against your tummy, feeling the tip of the silicon dick disappear and come back.

The agency member giggled, raising that same hand and wiping away the abundance of tears flowing down your face, “Look at you~ just so adorable and begging for me to stop. Don’t you remember what I said? ‘I wanna see you scream and beg me for mercy as I dumb you down into oblivion.’” The attitude in his voice becoming condescending and dark.

His hand travelled down to grasp your dick, causing you to bite your bottom lip to quiet down the scream that nearly left your lips. Almost too quickly, your cock hardened once more with tears flowing down the sides of your face from overstimulation. Dazai only gave you a shit-eating smirk while he looked down at your pitiful face, feeling a rush of excitment through his veins.

God, you should’ve taken the day off.

…

Dazai took off the strap on with ease, letting it fall back into the box, shiny with lube and Dazai’s own slick. He didn’t care about his own orgasmic pleasures, just wanted to see you once more, even if that meant fucking you stupid. He wasn’t lying when he said that. Dazai was cruel, there’s no doubt about it. However, he still had the courtesy to clean you up with multiple wet wipes and redress you. Too bad he couldn’t do anything about the bruises and bite marks littered beautifully across your sleeping form.

The brunet pulled up his pants and closed the box with the sex toy in it, holding it by pressing it against his side while his other hand fished his phone out of his trench coat’s pocket. Quickly, as if he remembered the phone number by heart, he dialed one of your co-worker’s digits and his phone began to ring.

“Who is this?”

“Chuuya!” Dazai said in a chippy tone, hearing the other groan and spit out a “what do you want?” in response, “Well- for starters, [name] is in a shipping container, currently knocked out. You know, the one you wanted him to check? Could you be a good friend and pick him up safely? Oh! But be careful, he’s a little sore in the lower half.”

“What the hell did you do to him!?�� Chuuya barked on the other side of the line, Dazai hearing him kick open doors to rush over to where his coworker is.

“Just a little reunion gift.” Dazai singsonged, pressing the “end call” button before he could hear his long time friend yell again, “Man, they sure are becoming too similar. I’ll have to fix that.”

[cherienymphe]

I Know What You Did Last Summer (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS, MURDER, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, BLOOD, KNIFEPLAY, STALKING, ANGST, voyeurism, underage drinking, JJ x reader, pogue!reader

➥ Happy Halloween weekend!

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​|  ➥ divider by @/kimjiho1

summary: When your friends start dying one by one, you're not exactly honest when the police ask if you know of anyone who'd want to hurt them. You do...but he's dead. You know this because you buried him.

~

You stared out into the water, a rare morning in which you woke up early enough to watch the sun rise over Outer Banks. This time last year, you might’ve tried to catch a wave or two, a way for you to often escape and clear your head. However, the problems of last year were gone and there was nothing left for you to escape from.

No one left for you to escape from.

Your gaze fell to the dock beneath your feet, eyes glazing over as memories of a tumultuous relationship plagued your thoughts. The memory of bruised skin and aching limbs made you shudder, wrapping your arms around yourself, the cool North Carolina breeze having nothing to do with it. You tensed for half a second at the sound of a familiar voice on the wind before realizing that you were only imagining it as you often did these days.

Some days you thought you were going crazy, but then you reminded yourself that no sane person could do what you did and walk away with no baggage whatsoever. Then again, it could be argued that no sane person could do what you did period. Thoughts of that night left a sour taste in your mouth, and for the past year, you constantly worried if you did the right thing. It didn’t matter if you did or didn’t because it wasn’t like you could take it back, but still…

Analyzing your past decisions made you feel less like a sociopath or something.

When you heard your mom calling you from the house, you pulled yourself away from the water. Your dad was just heading out for work, and he exchanged a quick hug with you on the way to his truck. You could tell that your 180 within the past year stumped them, but it was in that good way that always sparked a bunch of compliments—you’re so much happier or you’re talking more or you’re around a lot more.

The difference was noticeable to anybody who knew you…and everyone knew why.

Even if they didn’t want to say it.

“You know I leave for work in a little bit, but I put some bacon in the oven, and I just wanted you to know so you could take it out.”

You smiled at her, leaning against the counter.

“We’ll see how long it lasts once JJ gets here,” you told her.

Your tone was mocking, but you both knew you were entirely serious. After telling her that you might be staying at Kie’s tonight, you bid her goodbye, gaze focused on the oven as you checked the bacon. You knew it wouldn’t be long before half of your friends burst through that door, and so you didn’t hesitate to take it out the moment it looked like it was done.

It was when you were placing the pan on the stove top…when you heard it.

It was a light thump that came from the back of the house, and you paused with a frown. It was hardly anything—could’ve easily been a limb falling out of a tree or something—if it wasn’t for the fact that it sounded like it came from inside of the house. Your frown deepened the longer you stood there, listening some more without success. With reluctance, you wrote it off, and you only just relaxed when you felt hands on your shoulders.

“Jesus!”

You pressed your hand to your chest, frowning over your shoulder as both a familiar blond and brunette made themselves comfortable at your table. You hadn’t even heard them pull up, oblivious even to the door opening.

“No, JJ,” the voice behind you corrected with a chuckle, and you rolled your eyes.

“Hilarious,” you commented. “I didn’t even hear you guys come in.”

“Kind of figured when you grabbed your chest just then,” Sarah said with a small smile. “What were you looking at, anyway?”

Her question reminded you of the noise, and realizing that it was probably them you heard, you shrugged.

“Thought I heard something, but it was just you guys.”

By now, JJ had joined them, leaning back in a chair.

“You’re still coming to Rose’s little ‘fall festivity’ right? Somehow Wheezie got out of going by talking our dad into letting her go to a sleepover instead, and I don’t really wanna be alone.”

Her words quieted some near the end, a brief awkward silence as your eyes met hers, both of you ignoring the obvious.

“Of course,” you assured her. “I told my mom I’d probably be staying at Kie’s since it’s closer to your house. Knowing Rose, this thing could go on all night.”

Sarah agreed with that, interrupting John B and JJ’s conversation.

“You can still change your mind, you know,” she told him with a pout, bumping his shoulder with her own.

The face he made was answer enough, and she huffed.

“Besides, even if I wanted to, I’m sure Ward would be thrilled about that,” her boyfriend mumbled.

“You know he’s better, now. He’s not so against you ever since…”

Your best friend trailed off, and your gaze found the floor just as all of theirs traveled to you. The silence was short—not so much awkward—but definitely far from light. You all knew what Sarah was going to say, how Ward stopped caring about so many superficial things. How he was the kind of man who focused on things that actually mattered, now.

He was the kind of man who carried grief, now.

…and it changed him for both the better and the worst.

“I’m going to go and grab my purse and change of clothes. Bacon’s all yours,” you mostly said to JJ, quick to leave the room.

Once inside your room, your eyes landed on your mirror, gaze lingering on the bare space where dozens of pictures used to be. It had been a little over a year since you’d taken them down, but sometimes, when you recalled the happier times before it all went up in flames, you missed them. You missed looking at them when you did your makeup or even just lingering on them when you were on the phone.

Chest aching for so many reasons, you forced yourself to turn away.

It was as you were grabbing your purse and the extra bag with your dress for tonight did you glance up. You blinked at your window, a small frown forming between your brows. Approaching it, you reached out, slowly pulling it back down and locking it shut, desperately trying to remember if you’d even let it up the night before.

“I swear to God, Rose is about to lose her shit,” Sarah chuckled from next to you. “She bought that dress months ago for this stupid party only for her to show up wearing the same one.”

You sipped on your drink that you were definitely not supposed to be having, a light laugh of your own escaping. The little soiree was everything Sarah said it would be, and you could see why Wheezie took the opportunity to bail. It wasn’t Halloween yet, but like every year—or almost every year—Rose was having a series of parties leading up to the last night in October. You were just about to drag Sarah to the kitchen in search of those little finger sandwiches when a loud clanging noise caught everyone’s attention.

Ward stood in the center of the living room when you looked over.

The older man had a glass in his hand and was setting down a fork with the other. You couldn’t get over how much he’d changed in a year, and something in your chest ached, guilt eating at you. There was a small smile on his lips, but the rest of his expression didn’t exactly match up. Somehow, you knew that you weren’t going to like whatever he had to say.

“Um…sadly, we weren’t blessed to partake in one of Rose’s fabulous get togethers last year…”

You swallowed at the way the mood in the room seemed to sink, and you didn’t need to look over to find Sarah glancing at you.

“As you all know, my only son Rafe went missing around this time a year ago.”

Somber murmurs filled the room, and your hand tightened on your drink. Tuning Ward out, the only thing you heard was white noise, probably missing another tangent about how he wished he’d been less hard on him and had done more to heal their relationship before he had to file that missing person’s report that fateful morning.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you fought to keep a frown off of your face.

Memories of dark blond hair and intense blue eyes plagued your mind, making your stomach turn. If Ward’s memories with Rafe were less than fond, then yours were absolutely gut-wrenching. The hairs on your arm stood on end as you thought about the last time you’d seen your ex-boyfriend, and you felt your feet carrying you down the stairs just as Sarah reached for you.

The backyard was empty when you made it outside, and the fresh air did so little to calm you down.

You could hear the blood rushing in your ears at the thought of Rafe, a cold chill passing through you. With a huff, you stepped out of your heels, tears kissing your eyes as you thought about Ward in there giving some grand speech about Rafe and their relentless efforts to find him. You were pulled out of it by the sound of your name, and you wiped your face, oblivious to the fact that some tears had even spilled over.

Sarah’s sympathetic gaze met yours when you turned around.

“Are you okay…?” she whispered, and you sniffed.

“What do you think?” you lightly wondered, a humorless chuckle escaping as you shrugged. “Who knew that a felony was all it took for Rafe to finally get the love he always wanted.”

Your words were scathing, and Sarah slowly approached you, reaching for you.

“Hey…hey,” she repeated until you looked at her. “You’re safe, now. Rafe can’t ever hurt you ever again.”

While those words brought you comfort, they did nothing to diminish your anger.

“It’s not…fair,” you breathed, shaking your head. “He was nothing short of a monster to me…and they talk about him, now, like he was some angel come to earth.”

You knew it bothered Sarah too—she was there that night after all—and she sighed. The blonde pulled you into a hug, holding you tight and rubbing your back. You sometimes wondered if her feelings on the matter were as black and white as yours. Rafe was her brother, after all, and despite their less than enviable relationship, she had to have still loved him.

“Do you think they’ll ever find him?”

You said the words so quietly, as if paranoid someone would hear despite the fact that you were alone. Sarah tensed for half a second, probably because for the first time in months, you were explicitly talking about what you did that night—what all four of you did. She pulled away, gaze somber and resolved all at once.

“It’s been a year,” she said as if that were answer enough. “…turns out the police are even more useless than we all thought.”

You swallowed, and Sarah fought to calm you.

“If they haven’t found him by now then…”

She trailed off with a shrug, but you weren’t so convinced. While plenty of people got away with murder, plenty of others did not, and it didn’t matter that Rafe’s temper had escalated so badly one night until it came down to your life or his. Nobody would care that he used to threaten you and choke you and harm you so bad that you could barely walk sometimes. They wouldn’t care about any of that.

All that would matter was that he was Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s son.

…and you’d killed him.

John B was the first to die.

…and maybe that was why the horrible truth didn’t even cross your mind then.

Your sleep-addled brain fought hard to make sense of the words pouring out of Cleo’s mouth, and despite how unbelieving they were, the feminine wails you could hear in the background told you they were true whether you wanted them to be or not. Sarah’s choked sobs were the last thing you heard before Cleo was forced to hang up.

You didn’t even remember throwing on clothes, only knowing that you somehow managed to leave the house looking halfway decent.

When you made it to the hospital, Sarah was nowhere to be found.

“She was…” Kie trailed off, shaking her head. “They had to give her something.”

You took in the way Kiara was shaking, and unable to keep standing, she collapsed in a chair. You wanted to ask her what happened, but you could see it on her face that she couldn’t handle that, right now. Her eyes were shiny and glazed over, and she looked like she was going to be sick. She looked like she could barely even breathe.

“What…? I don’t…”

You couldn’t get it out, feeling wholly numb as your gaze met Cleo’s. The dark-skinned girl ran her hands down her face, her own gaze tearful.

“They found him in the water, man.”

Her soft words made your heart sink, and you frowned.

“Said he got tangled up somehow… Drowned.”

At that, you did finally sit down, reaching out to hold the armrest. Somehow, any other cause of death would’ve made it feel less real, preposterous maybe. You just couldn’t see John B. dying at the hands of some asshole or choking on his food or run down like a dog in the street.

…but drowning?

John B. dying in the water—a place he loved and often frequented—made sense.

That you could believe.

“Pope and JJ are on the way,” Kie mumbled so low you almost didn’t hear her.

Nothing about any of this felt real. It was only yesterday that you were talking to John B., tossing a beer at his head after some slick remark. You couldn’t quite process that you’d never be able to do that again. Your best friend was gone. Sarah’s boyfriend was gone, and you wouldn’t see nor talk to him again. It didn’t make sense, and maybe that lack of reason was what kept you numb, kept you staring at the white floors of the hospital until two familiar figures made themselves known.

It wasn’t until your eyes lifted and met JJ’s did it really hit you.

The pain in his face from losing the friend he’d known practically since birth seeped into you too, and you were on your feet before JJ’s legs could fail him. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight for both of your sakes, and your tears finally spilled over when you felt JJ’s hitting your skin.

You never really saw JJ cry much—it just wasn’t like him. You didn’t know if that was just the way he was or if he took it upon himself to be the obligatory goofy friend who was almost always in a good mood. Today, however, JJ cried harder than you’d ever seen him, the death of his best friend a thousand times worse than anything Luke could do to him.

He held you like a lifeline, even well into the night when everyone was forced to retreat to their homes, nothing more anyone could do. Even if JJ could find some comfort in his own home, you wouldn’t dare ask him to, feeling that same refusal to be alone. You had only been able to shake your head at your mom when she came to see if you wanted—needed—anything.

You didn’t miss the way her sad and heavy gaze fell to JJ in your arms, the blond boy sobbing into your chest as you held him on your bed.

Neither of you talked for what felt like days. There really wasn’t much to say, anyway. On the off chance that JJ moved, it was purely to use the bathroom or eat something that would keep him off the brink of starvation. You couldn’t really tell if you were handling it better than him or if you were just coping in an equally unhealthy way.

There was just this understanding that grief had kind of taken both of your voices.

JJ leaned on you throughout the entirety of John B.’s funeral, and when your eyes met Pope’s, you shook your head at the silent question in his dark eyes. They flitted to JJ at that, and you weren’t surprised to see them holding each other at the end of the service. John B. was like a brother to both of them, and maybe they could help each other in ways the rest of you couldn’t.

“Why was he out there so late?”

That was what Kie wondered as you all sat at The Chateau, still fighting to understand your new reality without John B. only hours after his funeral.

“We all always go swimming whenever,” you told her, and she shook her head.

“…but never that late…and if so, never alone,” she argued, looking at all of you. “They think he died around one in the morning. There was no alcohol or anything in his system. Why would John B. be out there at one in the morning?”

“What does it matter?” JJ spat, making you flinch. “Why are we sitting here trying to analyze this when John B. is dead? Huh?”

Kie looked taken aback, and you could see her mentally reminding herself that JJ was in pain.

“I’m just saying-.”

“No, I know what you’re trying to do.”

The blond was standing, now, angrily staring down at her.

“Trying to make sense of this, trying to find something or someone to blame because that’s easier to swallow than the truth,” he nastily threw at her. “John B.’s death doesn’t make sense…and sometimes that’s just life.”

He stormed off before anyone could respond, and you swallowed at the sound of his bike starting up. You took Kie’s hand at the sight of her forlorn expression, gently squeezing it and sending her a smile. JJ was angry, probably angrier than any of you, and he wasn’t keen on how Kie was trying to deal with it either. The silence after he left was thick, and you felt almost afraid to speak your mind too, because now that Kie had said it, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It didn’t make sense for John B. to be out in the water that late.

You shouldn’t have been surprised when JJ kissed you only a few days after John B.’s funeral, but you were.

You all were grieving, and besides Sarah who hadn’t left her home in days, JJ wasn’t coping well. He was so angry and confused and hurt, and truthfully, you’d just been happy he wasn’t going off on some bender or starting fights. He didn’t exactly grow up with the best example on how to cope with anything, and so when he pressed his lips to yours on your front porch, you could only think that there were worse ways to handle this.

Your breathing was uneven as he ran his hands over you, backing you up into your house. Your parents weren’t home, adulthood stopping for no one in the midst of tragedy, and you held onto JJ to keep from tripping over your own feet. You’d wondered what it’d feel like to kiss JJ sometimes, but only ever in passing, and you could count the number of times on one hand. It was bound to happen at least once or twice when you were friends for as long as you had been.

The kiss was rough but not unenjoyable, and you moaned into his mouth when your back met your couch. To your surprise, you liked the feel of JJ’s body on yours, keeping you trapped between him and the couch, and the blond sighed into the kiss when your fingers ran up his back, dipping beneath his shirt. When his lips ghosted along your jaw, your gaze landed on the ceiling, and you arched your chest up into his. His lips were pressing open mouth kisses to your throat, and when your gaze roamed—landing on the window behind him—you violently flinched.

“What’s wrong-?”

JJ cut his own words off when you sat up, lips parted as you stared at the window.

It was dark, and the longer you stared outside, the sillier you felt. Your heart was racing so fast—much too fast—and for a moment, you were scared you were having a heart attack. You felt overheated, and your skin was fighting to get back to normal instead of clammy. JJ said your name again, and you merely shook your head at him, struggling to stop your hands from trembling and your vision from swaying.

For just a moment, you could’ve sworn that someone was outside and standing right outside of that window. It was brief, quite literally a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ moment, but it wasn’t solely that that had you fighting to calm down, right now. You reached up, rubbing your chest and blinking back tears, hardly paying attention to JJ’s concern.

The way the person stood—their height, their build, their stance—it was all too familiar.

It looked eerily similar to your ex-boyfriend.

That thought had you standing, and you pressed your hand to your forehead. A few tears escaped without your consent, and you licked your lips, finally admitting to yourself why this whole John B. situation had you numb. The thought of John B. now had your chest aching, and for a brief moment, you weren’t seeing your best friend be lowered into the ground.

It was Rafe.

“Are you okay…?”

You finally acknowledged JJ, and you looked at him with a tearful gaze.

“No, I don’t think I am,” you choked out. “It’s not…it’s not your fault, I promise.”

“I shouldn’t have done that-.”

“No, JJ, it’s okay! You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assured him. “I’m just not handling this as well as I thought I was.”

He seemed to understand that, nodding at you.

The silence wasn’t tense or anything, but it was a little awkward. After all, one moment you and JJ were clearly about to have sex, and now, you couldn’t get rid of the cold chill that came over you. You glanced at the window again, so sure that you’d seen someone there, only looking away when JJ pulled you down to sit with him.

“You know I like you,” he whispered, making your eyes widen a bit. “Well, now you know.”

You blinked at him, oddly thinking that whatever this was tonight was some combination of grief and loneliness and the result of a violent confrontation with his own mortality. JJ ran his hand through his blond locks, sighing.

“First it was the whole Pogue on Pogue thing,” he said to which you snorted, recalling the day Pope and Cleo waltzed into The Chateau holding hands. “…then it was Rafe.”

You looked down at that, tightening your arms around yourself at the mention of your ex.

“Then Rafe went missing, and it didn’t seem right even though you didn’t seem…sad about it.”

You swallowed at that, a wet and muddy night coming to mind.

“…but now my best friend is dead, and I’m scared that if I wait another minute, it’ll be too late.”

Your gaze softened at that, looking at him, and it really didn’t take you long to realize that deep down you’d liked JJ too. You first noticed the feeling after the third or fourth time Rafe had hit you, and you just remembered thinking that JJ would never. You hadn’t lingered on it, but now you were wishing you had. Maybe if you felt like you had a way out, you would’ve left Rafe sooner. The relationship might not have continued.

…and that night never would’ve happened.

With the death of John B., you understood exactly what JJ meant. John B. hadn’t been some old man pushing ninety who lived this long and fulfilling life. He was eighteen, unable to even get the chance to start. It was unexpected and heartbreaking but most of all scary, so when you took the blonde’s hand, you didn’t hesitate to pull him closer, pressing your lips to his.

You had no idea that while taking the first step with JJ into the second relationship you’d ever have, Pope’s body was being dumped in the water.

When you all collectively made the decision the next morning to go and see Sarah, no one thought too much of it when Pope didn’t answer. Sarah was allowed her solitude to grieve, you felt she was owed that, but none of you wanted your friend to deal with this alone for too long. Considering how early it was, everyone just assumed that he was still asleep when you decided to meet up.

JJ—now in the possession of the Twinkie—made the decision to slow down at the sight of so many squad cars near the water. It was strange, and there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that you just couldn’t shake. Outer Banks was not without its fair share of crime, but you’d never had the misfortune of witnessing a coroner’s van pull up to the scene.

“What do you think that’s about?” Cleo wondered.

You spoke without thinking.

“Call Pope again.”

You could feel several pairs of eyes on you as you looked out of the window, and there was a beat of silence before they all reached for their phones at once. That twisted feeling only tightened when none of them got an answer. You didn’t voice your thoughts, partly because you didn’t want to be the one to, but you also didn’t want to make them true, somehow.

…but they were true whether you said them aloud or not.

You’d never been inside of an interrogation room—or Kildare County’s version of one, anyway. You never thought you would be, but in this moment, you were thinking of a lot of things you never thought would be. Shoupe—a man you’d grown used to seeing all your life—handed you a cup of water, and your fingertips only grazed it as it sat on the table.

With the discovery that Pope was now dead too, the numbness you’d felt was forced to crack and shatter. While Cleo had to be restrained and held back from ambushing the crime scene, you’d been unable to keep upright, collapsing right there on the side of the road. The entire gruesome debacle had attracted a crowd. After all, Outer Banks just wasn’t used to this, and several people tried to help you remain conscious—namely JJ.

You didn’t even remember breaking down, didn’t even remember being approached by the cops. You actually could barely remember a thing after witnessing a familiar body being pulled from the murky water. You knew that you cried, had to, because your eyes were tight. You knew that you screamed because your throat was raw. You knew these things because of how you felt…not because you actually remembered any of it.

Shoupe’s sigh made you blink, and instead of laying on the side of that road, you were surrounded by four walls.

“Do you know of…anyone who’d want to hurt Heyward’s son?”

His words gave you pause, and you lifted your gaze with a deep frown.

“…what?” you choked out after some time.

His gaze was soft—Pope was your friend and he’d watched you both grow up as thick as thieves—but also inquiring. You watched him briefly lick his lips, sighing to himself as he pressed a hand to his forehead. He seemed to be conflicted, having some kind of internal battle before reaching out to you across the table.

“Pope was dead before he was in the water.”

You merely blinked at him, not quite processing his words.

“Someone…someone cut his throat.”

At that, your vision blurred, and you could see on Shoupe’s face that he was predicting what was about to happen before you even tried to stand. The older man reached for you again, attempting to keep you from falling, but your feet tripped over one another as your legs lost their strength. When your knees hit the hard floor, your brain didn’t even register the pain.

Burying two friends within two weeks of each other was something you would’ve never predicted. Not until you were in your seventies, at least. It felt like the opposite of unreal. It felt too real because all you could feel was pain. It was numbing and excruciating all at once somehow, and having the whole town look at you like some walking magnet for tragedy didn’t help.

In truth, all of your friends got the stares. Two out of the group were gone—one drowned and one brutally murdered—and people looked at the rest of your friends like they didn’t know what to think of them…but you? Oh, they looked at you like they both feared and hated you, and you knew why.

It was only a year ago that your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—had gone missing, and now two of your friends met the same fate everyone suspected Rafe did. There was something in their eyes that held blame, and you might have found it funny if you weren’t so angry and sad and miserable.

You were only responsible for one of them.

“No fingerprints, no footprints, no nothing,” Kie whispered, angrily. “It’s like Pope was just killed and dumped by a ghost.”

JJ was silent as he stared out into the rich girl’s yard, and you worriedly eyed him. Cleo too. It’s not like any of you were doing okay, but JJ had lost the two people he was closest to in the world, and Cleo was now in the same boat as Sarah. It was then that the blonde girl shifted, a noise leaving her throat that had you all looking over.

“Do I have to be the one to say what we’re all thinking?”

She looked between you all with a heavy gaze, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“That John B.’s accident wasn’t an accident…?”

Your lips parted at that, and you looked around to see that no one else had expected that either. No one else but Kie who simply wrapped her arms around herself. You recalled her words from last week, how she’d questioned why John B. was even out on the water that late. JJ had been so quick to shut it down, and despite having the same question as Kie, you’d also forced yourself to let it go.

You hadn’t wanted to fathom that someone had killed John B.

“Now, hold on-.”

“Oh, come on, JJ!” Sarah cried. “John B. drowns at one something in the morning, and a week later one of his best friends is murdered?”

You swallowed, hating this conversation.

“This is too coincidental,” she whispered, wiping her face.

The silence was loud as her accusation—and the implications that came with it—just hung in the air. You all looked between each other, and you could see it then. It was sinking in that this was too much of a coincidence, and Cleo spoke up.

“Why would anyone want to hurt them?”

“I think you mean why would anyone want to hurt us,” Kie threw out, and you all froze. “If someone did kill John B. and that same person killed Pope…isn’t it safe to assume they’re working their way through the group?”

You stood, really hating this conversation now, and stared out into the yard.

“I mean, what? Only John B. and Pope happened to piss this person off?”

“That’s even if what you’re saying is true,” JJ argued, visibly disturbed, now. “I mean, think about this. Who the hell did all of us piss off this damn bad? Huh? That doesn’t make any sense.”

It was then that your gaze met Cleo’s, and something passed through her eyes that you also knew passed through yours. You didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that the other girl was thinking about that night, recalling a bloodstained carpet and shovels that would never see the light of day. Your lips parted as your gaze lowered, and feeling like you might be sick, you sat down. No. There was nothing you could think of that all of you had done to collectively anger someone this much. However, there was something that came to mind that four of you had done.

…but Rafe was dead.

He’d been dead for a year, and so what Cleo was obviously thinking was clearly not possible.

Even with that fact, it still didn’t prevent you from being terrified, and it was no surprise that none of you wanted to be alone. Even if John B.’s accident was just that, someone had still killed Pope, and Outer Banks now had a murderer in their midst. If people looked at you with disdain before, then it was nothing in comparison to when a curfew was enforced.

“First it was Rafe…”

You tensed at the sound of the voice.

“…then John B. and now Pope.”

You cut your eyes to Kelce as he walked by you.

“We don’t need a curfew. What we need is to search your damn house,” he sneered, turning his back to you as he strode away.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you waited for Sarah to exit the shop. You knew that Kelce wasn’t alone in his sentiment. It was only just the day before when your eyes had met Topper’s, the blonde’s gaze unreadable despite the clenching of his jaw. Topper was never the kind of guy to evoke intimidation, but that was before he thought you had something to do with the disappearance of his best friend.

When Rafe went missing, you were questioned. It was expected. After all, you weren’t just his girlfriend but also the girlfriend who everyone knew he would literally get crazy about. Your rocky off-and-on relationship was no secret, so naturally you were the first to be brought in. The police hadn’t been able to find anything though, not then and not for the past year, so any suspicions anyone might’ve had were probably long forgotten about.

Until now.

The only difference was that now not only did they think you killed Rafe, but also your best friends.

“They’re assholes. You know that,” Sarah told you as she drove you back to her place.

The Cameron household was where you’d been staying when you weren’t at home with JJ. Ever since that night, something in you felt wrong about accepting the Cameron’s hospitality and even setting foot into their house. That night was complicated, this much was true, but the fact remained that you were responsible for their pain. Ward would never be reunited with his son because of you.

Smiling in their faces and eating at their table left a sour feeling in your gut.

“…but I did kill Rafe,” you whispered.

Sarah glanced at you at that.

“We all did,” she finally said. “…and it wasn’t like that. He was choking you, he was…he was killing you. It was self-defense.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the cops will think rolling him up and burying him in the woods was self-defense,” you scoffed.

Sarah was parked in her yard, now, and she gripped your arm. Her expression was hard as she stared at you, lips pressed together.

“Stop that,” she bit out. “Rafe… Rafe wasn’t going to stop. We had no choice, and do I sometimes wish things had ended differently for him and for us? Yeah. Even the most estranged of siblings don’t actually want to kill each other, but what’s done is done.”

She looked between your eyes, and you swallowed, recalling that silent conversation with Cleo. You licked your lips, touching your forehead and swallowing down a sigh.

“What if it’s not done?” you wondered, almost inaudibly.

When you looked at Sarah again, there was a frown on her face.

“We definitely know of someone who’d want us dead,” you whispered, and you watched the color drain from Sarah’s face.

“…and he’s dead.”

“…but what if he’s not?” you choked out. “What if…? I mean, sure, there was blood and we hit him twice and we buried him, but what if-.”

“Stop,” Sarah breathed, resting her hands on the wheel. “Stop talking.”

“Sarah-.”

“I said stop!”

The blonde girl looked visibly distressed, eyes wide and lips trembling as she stared ahead.

“We killed him. He’s dead…and he can’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

Sarah sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than you. You could see how upsetting this conversation was for her, and again, you wished that night had gone differently. Getting your friends caught up in your relationship problems was your biggest regret, and no matter how many times they insisted they’d never take it back, it did nothing to ease your guilt.

Repeating Sarah’s words in your mind, you put thoughts of Rafe behind you.

You were having a horrifying case of déjà vu.

Around this time a year ago, you were also out in the middle of the woods at night, repeatedly stabbing at the dirt with a shovel. It had just rained then, and the ground had been wet—soft. You’d been less calm then, but also somehow less terrified than you were, now. A year ago, it had been four of you digging a hole.

Tonight, it was three.

Sticking together was the plan. Even if you didn’t collectively agree on it, there was the thought in all of your minds that someone was after you. Even JJ, who was in denial, didn’t turn down Sarah’s offer to sleep over at her place. Any other time where Rose and Ward would’ve vehemently opposed several Pogues taking up residence in their house, they were now a lot more welcoming.

Any doubt that you were being hunted like animals was nowhere to be found the night you discovered Cleo’s body.

The four of you were sleeping in Sarah’s room—JJ in the guest room right next door—when you heard the faintest thump. It seemed like forever ago, but in the night, it was oddly reminiscent of the day of Rose’s fall festivity or whatever—before John B. died. You recalled the noise you’d heard that day, your open window, and where you had written both of those things off, you now looked back in fear.

You’d sat up, rubbing your eyes and looking around. Noticing Cleo’s absence, you told yourself that she was getting something to drink or going to the bathroom. However, your effort to lay back down was halted when you heard it again—a faint thump from downstairs that made your hair stand on end for some reason. Glancing at your remaining best friends, you pushed yourself to your feet.

“Cleo?”

Your kept your voice low as you stood at the top of the stairs, not wanting to unnecessarily wake the whole house. Only silence met you, and you frowned. The stillness of the house felt heavy, suffocating, and it unnerved you. It was just moments ago that it wasn’t so silent, and you walked back to Sarah’s room.

Glancing inside, there was still no sign of Cleo, and facing the fact that she wasn’t in the bathroom, you made your way downstairs.

The whole house was dark, and telling yourself that a light would be on if she was in the kitchen, you flipped the switch. An empty kitchen met you, as you expected, and your frown deepened. Walking back to the staircase, you looked up, a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach as you climbed them. There were only so many places that she could be, and wondering if you’d missed her somehow, you checked all of the bathrooms. She wasn’t back in Sarah’s room either.

As you stood in the hallway, the complete darkness made you freeze.

It didn’t register, at first, and you stood there wracking your brain. Goosebumps completely covered your skin, now, and as you stared ahead, something in the back of your mind was screaming at you—sending off alarm bells. Something about this picture wasn’t right, and once it clicked, your heart sank to your gut.

There was no light coming from downstairs.

The kitchen light was now off.

Stumbling into Sarah’s room, you shook her and Kie awake.

“What, what?” the tan girl mumbled, Sarah’s huff coming from behind you.

“Something’s wrong,” you said, words tumbling over each other. “I can’t find Cleo.”

Both of them were wide awake, now, and Kie was frowning at you when Sarah turned her light on.

“What…?” she asked, disbelieving.

You tried to keep calm.

“I heard something, and I saw Cleo was gone, but she’s not in the bathroom, and she’s not downstairs,” you rushed out.

Sarah was still for half a second before she ran out of the room. While Kie went with her, you took it upon yourself to wake JJ, and once past his confusion, he was right on your heels as you made your way downstairs too. Kie was looking out the windows while Sarah searched each room.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” JJ said. “Don’t you guys have some alarm code or something? It’s not like she could’ve left without waking the whole house.”

JJ was right.

“So, what? You’re saying she’s still in the house? Hiding and playing some sick joke?” Sarah wondered, visibly stressed and scared. “That’s insane.”

You wondered if you should speak up about the kitchen light, about how someone had blatantly turned it off when you went upstairs. That car conversation with Sarah was on your mind, and your vision swam for a bit as you fought to keep upright. It might not be Cleo, but someone was definitely playing some sick joke.

“I’m going to wake my dad,” Sarah breathed. “This…this isn’t right.”

As she made to go upstairs, you slowly made your way to the back door. You stared out of the windows, scanning the yard for anything that might make sense of all this. The yard was empty, and you could hear JJ and Kie behind you as they talked and tried to make sense of what was going on. Too busy scanning the trees and what you could see of the neighbors, your gaze was focused much too high.

When you saw her, you wanted to be sick.

“Oh my God,” you choked out. “Oh my God, oh my God!”

You were scrambling to unlock the door before JJ or Kie could question you, and the house alarm was loud as you threw the door open. The grass was dewy and slippery, and you quite literally fell a few times before you reached her. You collapsed right next to her, and Kie’s scream was even louder than yours once she fully registered what she was seeing.

Your arms shook as you held Cleo’s broken body, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were too busy trying not to choke on your own sobs, you might’ve been screaming too. You could feel JJ’s hands on your shoulders as he tried to get you to let her go, but you felt possessed.

You couldn’t not hold her.

By now the rest of the household was outside too, and you could hear Rose on the phone, frantic and horrified. Mr. Cameron’s voice was in your ear as he too tried to get you to let her go. You couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t like you were hurting her any more—she was dead. Any hope for otherwise died the moment your wide eyes met her equally wide ones, dark gaze focused on the sky above. You felt like the least you could do was hold her—some kind of apology for not finding her sooner.

You were only convinced when the police showed up, Shoupe practically begging you to.

“We have to take her, now,” he said to you, his eyes meeting yours. “We have to do right by her and try and figure out what happened. You want that, don’t you?”

You remembered just staring at him, lips parted and chest heavy, before finally letting her go. JJ was quick to pull you beside him, his own hands trembling as he held you close. You knew that it was partly for you and partly for him. You completely leaned on him, feeling like you were moments away from fainting.

Especially so when you glanced up…your eyes landing on the open window of the second-floor bathroom.

You weren’t surprised the next day when you were face to face with Shoupe again and he said:

“She broke her neck.”

That wasn’t news to you. You found her…you held her, after all. You saw what she looked like, so his words were expected. His next, however, were not.

“Now, that could’ve happened when she fell…or it could’ve happened before.”

Your gaze lifted then, watching the older man heave a sigh and lean in closer across the table. His gaze was completely serious, lips pressed together and jaw clenched. He clasped his hands together as he regarded you.

“Now…I asked you this before when we pulled Pope out of that water…”

You swallowed.

“…and you gave me your answer then, and I believed you, but now I’m asking again.”

Tears kissed your eyes.

“…and depending on how you answer, I may not believe you this time.”

Dark blond hair and blue eyes filled your vision, a smooth and almost raspy baritone bouncing around between your ears. For just a moment, you weren’t in that room face to face with Shoupe. You were one year younger and rolling a lithe frame up in a bloody carpet. You and three other girls were carrying it to a familiar truck, determined to bury it where no one would ever find it. Even before Shoupe asked his question, that was all you could see.

…and yet, when he asked if you knew of anyone who’d want to hurt you and your friends, you still told him no.

That was two weeks ago, and now you were back in the woods…in a familiar spot…hoping to dig up a familiar face.

“This is insane, you know that, right?” Sarah spat, huffing as she stabbed at the dirt again.

“Look around!” Kie yelled, her voice bouncing off of the trees. “Three of our friends are dead! They’re dead, and you know what? When the cops asked if I knew of anyone who’d want to hurt them, I almost told them Rafe.”

You and Sarah paused at that, staring at her.

“Can you believe that? That sounds crazy, right because Rafe is dead, and..” she threw her arm up. “I would know!”

She was breathing hard, fighting to keep it together.

“…but Cleo was pushed. We all know that she didn’t fall. She was pushed, shoved, thrown, however you want to call it! Her neck was broken…and you all can say that it happened when she hit the ground, but I just don’t believe that.”

“Unless you’re saying one of us did it…” Sarah shrugged. “Someone would have to know the alarm code to not only turn it off, open the window, and toss her out…but also turn it back on as soon as they did it.”

“Sound like anyone we know?” Kie sarcastically wondered, pointedly looking at the ground beneath them.

There was a brief pause between you three as the horrifying possibility set in. Sarah was right. The requirements to pull something like that off fell to any of you, and you knew for a fact that none of you would ever, and so that was where Kie’s suspicions came in. Determined to face the truth one way or another, you continued to dig.

It felt so silly, attempting to dig up a man you’d most assuredly killed. You still had nightmares some nights about the feel of Rafe wrapping both hands around your neck, squeezing so tight that you were sure your neck would snap at any moment. Even when Sarah and Cleo had walked in, shocked and horrified at the sight before them, he hadn’t stopped.

He’d only been focused on killing you.

As you dug, you could remember their screams and the sound of them hitting him and trying to get him off. Nothing had worked, even when Kie came in, attempting to jump on his back. You didn’t know if it was the coke or alcohol that night that made him so determined to kill you regardless of witnesses. Either way, for your sake, you needed Rafe to be in this grave.

You could handle a lot of things, but you couldn’t handle Rafe still being out there.

“I don’t think we have the right spot,” Kie finally said after some time.

You yourself had briefly thought the same, but you remembered that night like the back of your hand. This was the right spot, and the longer you kept being greeted with dirt and more dirt, you could feel an internal panic setting in. Sarah stopped digging after Kie, but you kept going. You had to…because he had to be here.

“Y/N…”

“He’s here,” you breathed. “He has to be.”

Right now, there was only the sound of you frantically digging, and you hadn’t even realized you’d started crying until a sob bubbled up in your chest. You could hear Sarah calling your name again, but you paid her no mind, tossing the shovel aside and falling to your knees. You clawed at the dirt, looking for any sign of bone or clothing or even the damn rug!

“Y/N-,”

“No,” you screamed, throat hurting. “He has to be here, he has to be here.”

You felt like you were going to throw up, nails chipping and breaking as they only came in contact with dirt and sticks and rocks. Hitting your fist against the ground, you screamed again, this one dying into a fit of sobs. You felt Kie’s hands on your shoulders, and you struggled to breathe.

“This can’t be happening,” you heard Sarah breathe.

You pressed your face into your dirty hands, inconsolable as you were forced to face the truth.

“This doesn’t mean he’s alive,” Kie whispered. “Someone…someone else could know. I don’t know how, but it could be anyone else doing this, somebody who dug him up and is messing with us.”

“Or it could be Rafe!”

Your vision was blurry as you looked at her.

“It could be Rafe who wasn’t actually dead when we buried him. It could be Rafe killing my friends and torturing me and coming back to finish what he started!”

You pressed your forehead against the dirt, hunched over as the most awful wailing noise left you. You felt insane, like nothing in the world made sense, and you could hardly stand when Kie pulled you to your feet. If Rafe was still alive…your life as you knew it was over. You struggled to walk as Sarah put the shovels in the trunk, and when she closed it, she just stood there, hand pressed to the top with the other on her hip.

“So, what do we do? Do we go to the police and tell them that Rafe is doing this?”

“…and when they ask why?” Kie wondered, holding you upright. “What do we say? Y/N didn’t want to be with him anymore, so he ran off and came back a year later to kill her and her friends?”

You completely sank against the car, forehead pressed to the vehicle.

“…or better yet, what happens when we tell them we think Rafe is behind this only for his body to turn up? If everyone isn’t suspicious of us now—and they’re pretty fucking suspicious—they’ll definitely be then.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled after some time, continuing when you felt their gazes on you. “I’m so  sorry.”

“What-?”

“This is my fault,” you choked out, forcing yourself to straighten. “I should’ve left him the first time he hurt me. I should’ve…should’ve told someone, I should have called the police.”

“Y/N, this isn’t your fault,” Sarah argued.

“Yes, it is,” you cried, attempting to wipe your face and only succeeding in putting more dirt on it. “You hit him to get him off of me, but… I didn’t have to hit him again. I didn’t have to do that. He was already passing out, and I could’ve just called the cops and-.”

“…and deal with Rafe again when he was inevitably released?” Kie threw out. “Look, Sarah, your family is okay and all, but let’s face it. Rafe would not have stayed in jail long, if at all with Ward backing him up with his money.”

Neither of you argued against that, and your gaze found the ground.

“We need to get back,” Sarah said in a small voice. “It’s way past curfew, and if someone catches us out here, we’ll be even bigger suspects than we already are.”

Sarah was right, and when it became apparent that you needed help moving your feet, she guided you to the passenger side. Kie settled in the backseat, and all of you were quiet, minds no doubt occupied with the possibilities of what tonight meant. Either Rafe wasn’t dead…or someone knew what you did and was getting even on his behalf.

When Sarah turned the car on, the lights shined into the trees before you. You lifted your head, gaze landing in front of the car, and your lips parted. You blinked at the trees, eyes narrowing when Sarah turned on her brights, putting the car in reverse. There’d been a split moment when Sarah’s lights came on—and your gaze wasn’t lifted all the way—that you thought you saw something next to one of the trees.

It looked like a person, standing and watching, but they were gone so quickly that you knew you had to have imagined it. The discovery of Rafe’s empty grave was getting to you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. It seemed farfetched that Rafe hadn’t actually been dead that night. Murder weapons and such aside, you’d buried him, and how likely was it that he’d woken up to claw his way out instead of simply suffocating and bleeding to death?

It made more sense that this was someone else’s doing, but even still…

Despite burying him yourself, you never felt like Rafe was truly gone.

With three of your friends dead, the remaining four of you were not only being watched like hawks, but also refused to barely leave each other’s sides. Despite the fact that the police still couldn’t determine if Cleo’s death was murder or an accident, the popular opinion seemed to be the former. Walking through Outer Banks as everyone’s main suspect made a place that used to feel like home unbearable.

Deep down though, some part of you felt you deserved it.

Yes, Rafe was abusive and horrible, but it wasn’t up to you to play God. It wasn’t your place to determine whether or not he deserved to live, deserved to see his family again or redeem himself or go on to be even worse. That wasn’t your call, and despite how much relief you felt when you buried Rafe that night, something in you wanted to be punished for what you’d done.

…but not like this.

You never wanted this to come back on your friends and their family. Looking in the faces of their parents and now knowing this was all directly because of you was heartbreaking. Even if it wasn’t Rafe stalking the streets of Outer Banks and picking your friends off one by one, it was clearly someone doing so for him in some weird way. This all came back to Rafe, you just knew it.

…and they were trying to mess with your head in the process.

What else would they get out of moving his remains?

Considering what happened at Sarah’s house, it came as no surprise that the next spot of choice was Kie’s. It wasn’t without difficulty, and you recalled the way both of her parents huffed and puffed as she fought to convince them. You didn’t disagree with their reasoning. After all, you didn’t need to be a genius to know they were wary of you on some level. Too many people around you had died and gone missing.

They just didn’t want the same for Kie…and you wished you’d listened.

“We could leave,” JJ said to you in one of the Carrera’s guest rooms, hand clasped with yours. “I didn’t really want to believe it before but…”

JJ heaved a sigh.

“Someone’s after us for some reason,” he relented. “…and since we have no idea who or even why… Why not just take off?”

He shrugged at you, and guilt ate at you for a whole other reason these days. After Cleo’s death—and the traumatic night in which you discovered Rafe’s grave was empty—you grappled with the thought of telling JJ the truth. He deserved to know why his friends were dead, and why he had a target on his back. You even started to one day.

…but then you thought about him knowing this was all your fault…and blaming you too. You didn’t think you had the stomach or the strength to look him in the face and tell him that your actions that night came back on half of your friends. You didn’t want to face his reaction, and so you swallowed it down.

“I would if I could,” you told him. “…but aside from just how fucking guilty that would make me and us look…my parents are here. Even if they weren’t and we left, I don’t think that would make this stop. Sarah’s here, Kie is here, and whoever is doing this clearly wants all of our heads. They’re not going to give up just because some of us leave.”

You couldn’t stomach the thought of just taking off and leaving Kie and Sarah to fend for themselves. JJ nodded at that, understanding, and you closed your eyes when he reached for your face. You placed your own hand over his, and something clenched deep in your chest. It was so unfair that the moment you and JJ finally decided to stop being cowards, someone put a bounty on your heads.

Even if you made it out of this alive, how could you ever look back on the beginning of your relationship with anything other than grief and trauma? The two of you got together because of John B.’s death and any attempt to try and heal and make something good of this was ruined by the subsequent deaths of Pope and Cleo.

“Do you think this has something to do with Rafe?”

JJ’s question gave you pause, and you pulled back, staring at him with a frown. His expression was entirely serious, telling you that you had not in fact imagined his words. When you blinked at him, you watched him run his hand through his blond locks, the fair hair still damp from his shower.

“I know you killed him,” he confessed.

Your lips parted in shock, and you fought to make sense of what was happening. Disbelieving, you pushed yourself to your feet, looking down at your boyfriend. His gaze was soft, and you watched him exhale, slowly reaching for you.

“Wha…? What do you mean you know? What are-?”

“I overheard you guys talking about it…what…? Maybe three months after it happened?”

You looked away, slowly shaking your head. When you looked at him, there was no malice or disgust in his gaze, and you felt confused.

“I never said anything because I figured you wouldn’t like anyone else knowing,” he whispered.

JJ didn’t look bothered at all, and for some reason that threw you for a loop. Once his hand was back in yours, he tugged you until you sat down with him again. He took your moment of shock to lean in and kiss you—slow and gentle, and his thumb brushed your skin as he pulled away.

“I know what you’re thinking…”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone,” you wondered, more of a statement, voicing your thoughts and confirming his assumption.

“…because Rafe was horrible to you, and not in that generic asshole boyfriend way, but…really horrible,” he told you. “The way he talked to you and treated you in public was disguising to witness, so it wasn’t hard to guess how much worse he was behind closed doors.”

You felt yourself deflating, hating that JJ had to come to grips with that terrifying truth.

“You don’t know how bad I hated him for treating you like that, how much I wanted to beg you to leave him, but you wouldn’t,” he spat, anger in his voice as he thought about the past. “You wouldn’t even come to any of us, and I just thought it wasn’t my place.”

You hadn’t realized how much of your tumultuous relationship with Rafe had been bleeding into other parts of your life almost since the beginning.

“I started to lose my mind over it, you know…just wondering if I was bad for not telling or bad for thinking about telling, but…”

He let out a humorless chuckle, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“Plenty of times I thought about killing Rafe myself, so why would I hate you for having the balls to do what I could only fantasize about?”

You held JJ’s gaze, feeling shocked but also oh so light. You felt relieved that JJ knew, and you’d no longer have to carry around this guilt, but at the same time… You hated that JJ had been carrying this around for months—almost a year. Unlike you and the girls, JJ didn’t have anyone to talk to about this, forced to carry the burden of your secret alone…and you hated that. You hated yourself for that.

Your eyes burned with tears, and you just pressed your lips to his when a blood-curdling scream made you wince.

You and JJ looked at each other for half a second before he hurried out of the room with you right behind him. The screams didn’t stop, echoing throughout the house and mixing in with harsh sobs. There was a knot twisting in your gut, a feeling of dread washing over you like a cold shower. You and JJ took the stairs almost two at a time, and when you both made it to the living room, you paused in your tracks.

Kie had her hands over her mouth, but it was useless—she couldn’t stop screaming and crying. Sarah stood by the couch, frozen in shock, and you didn’t miss what her wide and stricken eyes were focused on. Mr. and Mrs. Carrera were sitting on the couch, facing the blasting TV as they had been for God knows how long. However, something about their posture was off, and when you slowly brushed by JJ to join Sarah…you realized why.

Blood covered the entire front of them both, eyes open and unseeing, mouths open in mid-scream.

Their throats were slit.

Before the horror of what this meant could even settle in, the power in the house went out, bathing you in darkness. The lights from the neighbors and the street were not enough, and you heard Sarah telling Kie to get up. JJ’s hand was on your arm as he pulled you along too, all four of you heading for the door.

Sarah only just opened it when you heard her let out a choked gasp.

She was still, and you worriedly eyed her.

“Sarah?” JJ called her name. “Sarah, what’s…?”

He trailed off, his words dying in the air as Sarah stumbled back. She fell against Kie, and the other girl fought to catch her as the blonde reached up towards her chest. With what little light you had, your eyes focused on what she was gesturing to. Your entire vision swayed once you saw the knife protruding from it.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, and JJ yanked you back away from the door.

You in turn yanked Kie who was forced to let Sarah go. The sound of her body dropping made you wince. Unable to stay with her, the three of you now headed towards the back door. Behind you, you could hear the front door slamming shut, and the sound of it had bile rising in your throat.

The house was still dark, and besides your own heavy breathing, you heard the sound of footsteps coming from the living room. You were the first to make it to the door, hand on the knob when you heard the last thing you ever expected for some reason. The glass in front of you shattered, but your ears were ringing from the gunshot more than anything.

“Fuck,” you heard JJ curse, and you felt him wrap his arms around you, pulling you to the side.

You didn’t realize why until you looked back.

Kie was in a heap at the foot of the door, her blood decorating the remaining glass in the window and the floor too. She was completely still, and the knowledge that two more of your friends were dead within just minutes of each other had you ready to faint. Despite that, with JJ’s help, you were able to keep your feet moving.

He pulled you into the hallway that connected to the kitchen, and on the other side of the wall, you could hear the slow and heavy footsteps. When the crunch of glass was heard, JJ pulled you further along towards the kitchen—towards the front of the house. You were shaking as you slid along the wall, and when the footsteps stopped, so did JJ.

You both were completely still as you waited and listened. Both of your phones were upstairs in the guest room, but you recalled Sarah reaching for hers when she opened the door. It had to still be near her, provided that whoever was in the house hadn’t taken it. JJ seemed to have the same idea as you, because he slowly moved through the kitchen and towards the front door.

A gunshot stopped his efforts.

“Go, go,” JJ hissed, pushing you away from him so harshly that you stumbled and fell back.

You were half in the kitchen half in the hallway when a figure approached the blond who was now also on the floor, clutching his side. You frantically crawled back, vision blurring from your tears just as they stood over him. Your back was pressed to the wall, staring at the one before you with quiet sobs when you heard it.

JJ’s gasps were loud and pained as he was attacked. One, two…seventeen, you counted. You thought to yourself how angry and evil someone has to be to stab someone else seventeen times. You kept your hand pressed to your mouth the entire time, fighting the urge to be sick. When you could no longer hear JJ, you squeezed your eyes shut.

A defeated feeling washed over you, and it was the feeling of being utterly alone.

You could hear those terrifying footsteps again, and when it sounded like they were coming near you from the other side, you sprinted for the door.

Refusing to look at the bodies of your friends, you fought to run across the street. The neighbor’s lights were on, and your legs burned as you pushed yourself as fast as you could. You refused to look back—too scared to—and you practically collapsed at their door as you banged on it. Some of Kie’s blood was on you, and it marred the door as you repeatedly hit it like a woman possessed.

“Open the door, please, please,” you screamed, looking over your shoulder.

You couldn’t see anyone, but you weren’t fooled. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping you from completely collapsing on this stranger’s porch. You were beating their door so hard that your fists were beginning to ache, and your throat scratched from your screams—strained and raw. When the door finally swung open, you quite literally fell inside.

“What in the world-? Oh my goodness,” a small voice said from over you.

Small and brittle hands helped you to your feet, and you felt bad at almost knocking her over in your efforts to make sure no one was behind you. You slammed the door shut and locked it, chest heaving and feeling much too tight. You were sure that you were almost on the verge of a heart attack. You had to be.

“Sweetheart,” the old lady called. “Call the police!”

She took your hands, guiding you to the kitchen where she grabbed a rag.

“He killed them,” you sobbed, struggling to breathe. “My friends are dead.”

The words didn’t even sound real to you, like some nightmare you’d conjured up, but they were real. Your friends had been picked off one by one for weeks before the rest were finally taken from you in one night. You were alone, and that fact made you cry harder.

“The phone’s not working,” you heard another aged voice say.

You froze at that, looking up just as the woman wobbled to the kitchen entrance.

“What?” you breathed.

“What do you mean it’s not working?” she tutted, and you were quick to follow behind her.

She met up with a man who you assumed was her husband in the hallway, and he did a double take at the sight of you.

“Good lord,” he breathed. “What happened?”

“Never mind that,” she dismissed him, making her way past him. “My granddaughter bought me one of those smart phones, but I hardly ever use the thing. We’ll find that and then we’ll call the police, sweetheart.”

You didn’t want to let her out of your sight, terrified of being alone, but the elderly man reminded you of his presence. He guided you back into the kitchen with a strained but kind smile. You could tell that your presence worried him. You were in his house in the middle of the night covered in blood, after all.

“Thank you,” you managed to mumble when he handed you the damp rag.

The feel of Kie’s blood on you was both comforting and horrifying. Your friend wasn’t with you, but this small part of her was, but at the same time, it only reminded you of her gruesome and tragic death. The woman came back through the hallway, joining her husband in the living room, and you heard her mumbling something about hoping the cops would come quick when there was a knock on the door.

The sound of it made your stomach drop, and you stood in the kitchen, rag tight in your hand. What were the chances they’d be getting some friendly visit at this time of night? Right after all your friends were brutally murdered, and you were forced to seek refuge at this very house?

You’d only taken one step forward when you heard the door open, followed by a startled gasp. It happened quick, too quick for you to even process, and it wasn’t long before you could hear the woman’s husband yelping too, a loud thud reaching your ears. Before today, you didn’t know what it sounded like to stab someone or cut their throat. You stumbled back, eyes wide and heart so loud in your ears that it was all you could hear for a moment.

You felt so cold, and you had the shivers to prove it, and slowly but surely…you reached for the knife in the sink.

The house was so quiet, and you didn’t hear a single breath or footstep. Taking a hesitant step forward, you held the knife out in front of you, briefly squeezing your eyes shut. Stepping into the living room, you weren’t surprised to see the bodies of the poor couple who’d just tried to help you. Blood stretched from beneath them like a stream. You pressed your free hand to your mouth, swallowing down a sob.

You were surprised, however, to see an empty living room.

Your brain was completely empty, feeling like you were short-circuiting. You were being toyed with, that much was obvious, and your lips trembled as you slowly spun, fighting to see any sign of your tormentor. Slowly kneeling, you looked for the woman’s cellphone, and you had to swallow down a curse when you realized it was gone.

You stood in the living room, feeling like you were losing your mind with no idea of what to do next. You could run back across the street to Kie’s where you knew a phone was…or you could try another neighbor. A last resort of an option flitted through your mind, anger briefly filling you as you considered simply killing the person who did this.

The front porch creaked, and your gaze zeroed in on the door.

Backing up, you moved further into the house and further away from the door. You glanced over your shoulder, arm grazing the wall as you hid in the hallway. You could hear the door opening just as you disappeared around the corner, and as you slowly and quietly moved about the back of the house, you wanted to cry with the realization that they had no back door.

The house was so modest and quaint that you hadn’t even considered that possibility.

Tears of frustration and fear skipped down your face just as the upbeat tune of a whistle reached your ears. You didn’t know why, but something about it made you so angry. You were being played with, like a damn mouse in the grasp of some cat. How this person could snuff out life like it was nothing and be so giddy about it, you didn’t know. It disgusted you.

…and so the knife was tight in your hand as you stomped back towards the living room.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to die tonight, and you’d rather it be fighting and on your terms. The lifeless faces of your friends were all that plagued your thoughts, one after the other being taken from you so easily. As if they were nothing. You thought you were prepared for the person you’d grown to hate most in the world.

…but you weren’t prepared for the sight of Barry sprawled along the couch without a care in the world.

You actually came up short, stopping in your tracks in both shock and disbelief. You felt your lips part, and your hold on the knife wasn’t so firm, now, almost dropping it. A myriad of emotions hit you at once, none of them good, but the loudest and most prominent was…confusion.

You barely knew Barry, really only in passing. The only time you ever saw him was when you happened to be in Rafe’s truck when he needed to make some exchange, the dark-haired man always giving you a mockingly prissy wave. You never talked to him outside of pleasantries, and quite frankly you hated being around him. Somehow, he always managed to bring out the worst in Rafe, egging on any of Rafe’s disgusting behaviors.

He never called you by your name, it was always—

“Mrs. Country Club,” he drawled, that familiar cheeky half grin on his lips.

The gold in his mouth winked at you as you just stood there, and your stomach turned.

“Barry?” you breathed, and he simply raised his hands as if to say ‘the one and only’. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He raised his brows at that, pursing his lips together to fight off a smirk. You looked around, trying to make sense of this before taking a shaky breath.

“Why?” you spat, gaze meeting his unreadable one. “I don’t understand…”

Your words died in your throat, getting choked up.

“Why?”

He played with his hair, a look of confusion on his face.

“Why what…?”

“You’re not funny,” you sneered. “You’re not. Why? Why? Why?”

You screamed the last one, face wet with tears, and all the while he simply…smirked at you.

“How about this… I’ll answer yours if you answer mine,” he proposed, gesturing between you. “Did you feel bad when you dumped your boyfriend in the woods?”

His question made so much click, and you sighed, eyes briefly closing.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Somehow, someway, Topper and Kelce were like brothers to Rafe despite their differences, but Barry? You always hated how your ex-boyfriend managed to find a camaraderie in the dangerous drug dealer, both of them cut from the same psycho cloth. Only Barry could never go to the lengths Rafe did. At least, that was what you always thought…

The laugh that left you seemed to surprise both of you, and he blinked, brows raising again as he just…looked at you.

“That’s what this is about?” you breathed, voice shaking from anger and grief and disgust. “Revenge because I killed your bestie?”

Your tone was mocking, and all the while, Barry just stared at you.

“I guess psycho little rich boys must be hard to come by,” you spat. “Forgive me. Had I known you were going to take it so hard, I would’ve tried to make it look like some tragic accident instead.”

Again, he said nothing at all, and you recalled he’d asked you a question.

“…but to answer your question, no. I didn’t.”

The corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly at that, smirk growing.

“Rafe treated me like his property, like he could do whatever he wanted to me…and best believe…he took full advantage,” you forced out. “That night it was him or me…and I chose me.”

The other man jutted his lip out a bit, nodding in a way that suggested he was almost impressed. You looked at the bodies of the poor couple who’d gotten caught up in your shit, and you wiped your face, more tears spilling over. You adjusted the knife in your hand, staring him down.

“So, are you going to try and kill me or what?”

He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at you.

“That’s what this whole thing has been about, right?” you threw your arms up. “Tormenting me, driving me crazy, taking my friends from me and saving me for last so I knew what was coming, right?”

His silence actually angered you, now, and you roughly exhaled through your nose.

“What are you waiting for?” you brokenly questioned, startled by the sound of his chuckle.

It was genuine.

“I am offended,” he laughed, hands grazing his chest as he sat up straight. “Do I seem like a bloodthirsty murderer to you? Come on, now, Mrs. Country Club. You know that’s not my style.”

His words confused you.

“Truthfully,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees, a half-smile on his lips. “I’m just here for the show.”

You were so startled by the tight grip on your wrist that you dropped the knife, your lifeline clattering to the floor with a loud clang. Another knife—a bigger one—was at your throat, and you sharply inhaled at the feel of cool metal to your skin. In your attempt to get away from the blade, you pressed yourself further into the chest at your back. His hand on your wrist briefly tightened, so bad that you cried out in pain, but the tears that poured over had nothing to do with that.

You heard his deep breaths, and it wasn’t because his lips were at your ear, but because you’d stopped breathing. You couldn’t feel your heart, an icy emptiness in your chest where it was supposed to be, and the noise that finally left your lips was a cross between a gasp and a cry. The knife at your throat pressed harder into your skin, feeling a slight sting there, but it was nothing in comparison to the feel of his face pressing into the area where your neck and shoulder met.

He deeply inhaled, and a shudder passed through you.

“Word of advice…”

You closed your eyes at the sound of his voice, hoping for anything other than what you accepted as the truth.

“…if you’re going to bury someone,” his lips were at your ear again, and his tone was chilling. “Make sure they’re actually dead.”

A sob finally escaped, and your tearful eyes rested on the ceiling.

“Unlike you, I don’t make that mistake.”

Revulsion filled you, and you were certain that now you really were going to be sick.

“When I set out to kill someone, I get the job done,” he purred, a kiss to your neck. “…but you know that better than anyone, baby.”

You couldn’t even describe the feeling of being in Rafe’s arms again. There was too much going on within you to pinpoint one feeling, but above all else, you knew that you felt fear. Not once had you ever been able to actually heal from Rafe’s abuse. He was the thing you feared most in the world…and then you killed him.

That wasn’t healing.

That was just getting rid of the problem, but the fear and inferiority complex and damage still remained. You were happier with him gone, and you’d mistakenly took that for healing, but now that he was back… Now that Rafe was alive and well and a thousand times worse than you knew him to be, all of that came back, and you couldn’t stop crying.

“What? Nothing to say for yourself?”

It was so hard to breathe, and you couldn’t answer Rafe’s question even if you wanted to.

“Nothing to say about how you hit me upside the head and buried me in the woods like a fucking dog?”

He shook you as he said this, and you cried out. Evidently, that made him angrier, and you soon found yourself thrown to the floor. Your legs landed in blood, and your attempt to crawl away was halted by Rafe’s hand in your hair. He yanked you back until you were on your knees, and when you reached up, his other hand had the knife at your throat.

“Oh, wait, that’s right. What was it you said? It came down to you…or me…?” he chuckled, purposefully nicking your neck. “…and you chose you…right?”

He shoved you again, and you struggled to get to the wall, leaning against it and finally facing him.

It actually hurt you to see that he was just as beautiful as the day you buried him. Of course, he was sober, now, but what did that count for when he also had half a dozen literal bodies under his belt now? Blood stained his shirt, so much of it, and you wondered how much of it belonged to your friends. Your lips trembled as he pushed his hair out of his face, his other hand still holding the bloody knife.

“Sorry about your boyfriend,” he suddenly said although he didn’t sound sorry, at all.

Your face crumbled, and he chuckled.

“It wasn’t my intention for him to go like that, but…” he wiped blood off of his forehead. “I couldn’t quite get the image of him on top of you out of my head.”

Your eyes widened at his words, staring at him in shock as you recalled the day you told yourself you were imagining things.

“Truthfully, Sarah was supposed to be last,” he casually said, and you pressed your hand to your mouth. “My own fucking sister.”

He scoffed, and something passed through his gaze that told you he was genuinely hurt about Sarah’s so-called betrayal. His blue eyes rested on you, and you were suddenly thinking about the last time you stared into them…when he had his hands around your throat, choking the life out of you. Rafe seemed to be thinking about that night too, and you watched his gaze briefly fall to the floor, sniffing.

“I gotta admit,” he murmured. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

He looked into your eyes again, and you realized that you hadn’t stopped crying once since he revealed himself to you. Your gaze briefly landed on Barry who was still on the couch, watching the whole ordeal like this was some tv show instead of real fucking life.

“Rafe…” you choked out.

“…but I can promise you,” the blond sneered, pointing the knife at you. “I won’t be making that mistake again.”

You closed your eyes, fresh tears falling, and you struggled to swallow.

“Just get it over with already,” you breathed, so tired and…defeated. “Just kill me.”

When you opened your eyes, Rafe looked genuinely amused at the words that left your mouth. You weren’t surprised when he chuckled, and he glanced over his shoulder at Barry, still laughing.

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Your confusion must have been evident because he laughed again. Rafe stepped towards you until your eyes were level with his crotch, and you hated the way he looked down at you, like you were this helpless and hapless thing that he was just going to have so much fun with. When he slowly knelt before you, you flinched as he lifted his hand, the end of the knife lightly grazing your cheek before it trailed down your neck. Rafe’s blue gaze followed the descent, tongue darting out between his lips.

“Why would I do a silly thing like that?”

His almost inaudible words were loud and clear to you though, and you felt like you’d been shot.

“I won’t lie,” he said, staring at your collarbone. “I thought about. It was the first thing on my mind when Barry pulled me out of that grave you put me in.”

You swallowed when his gaze snapped to yours.

“I wanted to gut you like those fish my dad are always reeling in,” he spat. “I wanted to cut you open.”

You shook your head, letting it fall as you cried.

“…but this seemed soo much better,” he breathed, voice shaky, and you knew it wasn’t from fear nor anger.

Rafe was excited.

“…because you know what’s so much better than murdering all of your friends and forcing you to live with the fact that their deaths are on your hands? Hmm?”

He reached up, lightly grazing your lips with his fingers.

“Do you know what’s better than that?”

His hand tightened around your chin, and knowing him like the back of your hand, you knew he actually wanted an answer.

“No,” you muttered.

Rafe leaned in, brushing his lips against your cheek in a gentle kiss as he whispered his response.

“Having you all to myself.”

You didn’t have time to resist before Rafe was yanking you up by your hair, quite literally dragging you through this stranger’s house. Your feet tripped over one another, and several times you almost fell. Rafe finally wrapped an arm around your neck, keeping you in a chokehold as he forced you down the hall. The moment you tried to scream, his hand was there, forcing it down, and when he tossed you into the bedroom, your forehead hit the leg of the bed.

You heard him whistle.

“The old geezers have taste,” he praised. “…bet this is where that granddaughter of theirs sleeps when she comes to visit.”

You were a sobbing mess, just barely pushing yourself to your knees when Rafe tackled you onto your back. Not unfamiliar with this predicament, you fought against him, hitting him and scratching at his face. Any resistance was met with a genuine laugh, and when Rafe had both of your wrists pinned down beside your head, he tilted his own at you.

“You already killed me, baby,” he breathed. “What more could you do to me?”

The scream you let out was filled with equal pain and frustration, kicking out when he sank his teeth into your chest. It was done with the full intent to hurt, and he succeeded, pain blooming beneath your skin as he tore at your shirt.

Becoming reacquainted with his knife, you tried to scoot back as he sliced through your pants with it, pulling the jeans off of you in tatters. Fearful of the weapon in his hand, you tried to push at his arm, but when his free hand wrapped around your throat, effectively pinning you down, the knife found its way to your stomach.

You breath hitched as you froze.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Rafe hummed. “I might just…slip.”

You yelped at the sharp feeling along your stomach, and the burn you felt told you there was a cut there. He didn’t let go of the knife as he undressed himself with his other hand, and when he reached for your bra, the blade was pressed to your throat the entire time. You couldn’t stop shaking even if you wanted to, and Rafe made a show of taking his time as he settled between your legs.

“I hope you know how much planning went into this…”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“…and I hope you know that this was all that kept me going.”

When he pushed into you, you gasped in both pain and shock. You hadn’t been with Rafe—with anyone—in a year, and you struggled to adjust. Fresh tears escaped, and when Rafe’s bloody hand gripped your jaw, he turned your head to meet him in a kiss. It was gentle, nothing at all like the rough thrusts he started to give you.

Your back rubbed against the floor as he fucked you, and your crying was drowned out by the sound of his deep moans. Rafe sounded like he was in heaven while you felt like you were in hell. The feel of his cock pushing into you made your mind shrivel with disgust, but your body responded exactly how he wanted.

“I missed you,” he moaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

You sobbed louder, hating the way his thrusts became smoother, now. Your body greedily sucked him in with every push of his hips, and as his hands ran over you, all you could think about were these same hands killing your friends. These same hands that had done so much damage to your life even before that fateful night last year.

With a tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, Rafe forced your head back, and he took his time grazing his teeth along your skin. You could still feel the cool blade of the knife on your skin whenever he moved his other hand. His hips snapped against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, and it seemed like every nightmare you’d had about Rafe had come true…only multiplied by one hundred.

He pressed a hand into your stomach, holding himself up that way while the other hand pressed the knife to your throat. A fresh bout of sobs escaped, and you swore that Rafe actually smiled. You were proven right when he laughed, a deep and raspy chuckle that made your hair stand on end.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” he breathed. “…being so weak and at the mercy of someone else?”

It was sick how Rafe didn’t seem to realize that you knew this feeling long before today. Countless days filled with fear and yelling and manhandling plagued your mind, and the knowledge that Rafe had no intention of ending your suffering was enough to make you go numb.

As if sensing that, Rafe pressed the blade into your throat.

Your gasped turned into cries as you reached up.

“Uh uh,” he panted. “None of that. You are going to lie here…and you’re going to think about what you did to me.”

You gripped his wrist, eyes pleading. Rafe leaned in, nose pressed to yours with a knife pressed to your throat and a hand pressed to your stomach.

“You’re going to lie here, and take my cock, and thank God that I decided to spare your life.”

A particular hard thrust made you gasp.

“Every day, for as long as you live, I want you to think about your friends and remember that they are dead because of you…”

You closed your eyes, and Rafe dug the knife into your throat.

“Open your fucking eyes,” he breathed, continuing when you obeyed. “They are dead because you failed to kill me, and every time I come inside of you, you should take it with nothing less than gratitude.”

He kissed you then, roughly and lacking of any kind of love. It was purely done for show, to exert his power over you and remind you that you belonged to him. You tried to turn your head, and in doing so, you caught sight of Barry leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watched. The sight made you turn your head away, sobbing beneath Rafe.

“…because never forget that I wanted to cut you open,” he whispered in your ear, grinding his hips against yours and forcing a choked moan from your lips. “…but where is the fun in killing you when this is so much better.”

[alilreader]

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader, Getting Flustered

requests open!!!!!!

“This never happened, do you understand?! If I find out you mentioned this to anyone, I’ll…” prompt by thepromptswhisper

contains: idk mild smut? they makeout. gets caught. sneaking out. characters are 3rd years, 18yos. probably doesnt follow canon due to me not knowing if theyre still in dorms by 3rd year.

warnings: mild smut, snacks, teasing

You giggled to yourself, quietly of course, as you snuck through the darkened UA dorms. Excitement filled your veins as you thought about your actions.

"He's gonna love this..." you let your mind wander, as you clutched the handmade treats closer to your chest.

The truth is, you'd had a little something of a crush on a certain blonde for awhile now. He constantly crossed your mind at the most inopportune times.

That's what led you to sneaking around, just to visit his dorm, at 3am.

You'd known he was up, especially as your phone buzzed in your pajamas' pocket. No doubt a message from him. You confirmed this, as you gently removed your phone from it's place in your pocket.

💥Bakugou: Y/N, if you send me one more cat gif im going to blow you up 💥Bakugou: Serves you right going quiet on me 💥Bakugou: Y/N?

As you read the last message, you felt a twang of guilt from leaving him on delivered for so long. In reality, it'd only been about 15 minutes from his first message.

You chuckled lightly, at his clinginess. He would never admit it, but you knew deep down he cared about you to some extent.

Slowly, but surely, you eventually found your place in front of his dorm room. You rapped your fist on the door lightly, careful not to wake his neighbors.

You could hear a muffled groan from the other side, and even the clatter of objects as his footfalls neared the door. Your anxiety spiked for a split second. Had this been a bad time?

As soon as the thought crossed your mind, a grumpy looking Bakugou met your gaze. His crimson eyes softened at the sight of you, a slow blush rising to his cheeks.

You couldn't help but admire his build. His muscle glistened with sweat, the small lights littering the dorms basking him with a beautiful grace.

His bicep flexed as he held the door open, the divots catching your attention, as you followed his arm up to his face with your gaze.

"What the hell are you doing out here, dumbass?" the broad shouldered man grumbled, all the while looking mildly pleased to see you.

Your smile brightened, as you held out your goodies, a peace offering.

He scanned the box of treats, before inviting you inside, taking them in his grasp. You excitedly followed behind him, the scent of his room hitting you like a truck.

Due to his quirk, he produces a huge amount of sweat. While this is good for combat, it's rather embarrassing for his ego. For you, however, you just recognized the smell as him.

You scanned his room appreciatively, looking over the decor.

"Bakugou! I didn't know you were a collector!" you gasped, excitedly as you looked over some of his All Might merch. You knew he was a fan, but a nerd? Wow.

Before he could think much about it, munching on his new snacks, he found himself mumbling, "'S Katsuki..."

A bright blush quickly rose to his cheeks, heating him as he realized the weight of his words.

Sure, you two were close, known each other even before UA. But this was a new level of closeness.

Your grin widened at the new bond, "Right, Katsuki," you said, turning around. At the sight of him, blushing furiously, head in his hands, you couldn't help but blush yourself.

As if sensing your amusement, his flustered state turned to one of mild anger. You knew it wasn't directed at you. You couldn't help but laugh as he spat his words.

"This never happened, do you understand?! If I find out you mentioned this to anyone, I’ll…” he trailed off, thinking.

"You'll what, Katsuki?" you teased, almost jumping in place with excitement.

You were met with a growl in return, as he fought not to blow little explosions in your face. He floundered for a response, before settling on one that would fluster you just as much.

"You'll have to kiss me," he smirked, watching your face light up a cherry red.

"Um.. but to do that.. I'd have to actually tell someone... and then.. that must mean, um do you NOT want to kiss me than?" you mumbled, more to yourself thn anything as you stuttered out your response.

He grumbled at your stupidity. Of course, you'd take it literally and not as an invitation.

Without a second thought he was across the room, quickly covering the space between you. With each step he took forward, you took one back. It wasn't long before he had you pressed up against his desk.

His hands found themselves on both sides of your body, trapping you. "I see the way you look at me, always so observant. It's like you like me or something..." he whispered into your ear, sweeping your hair away.

"W-what? That's crazy!! I-I observe everyone! Equally!" he laughed, as you stumbled over your words.

He pressed a small kiss to your earlobe, so softly, you barely registered it. Your face was heated, so warm he could feel it radiating off of you.

To say you were embarrassed was an understatement.

His right hand found your chin, clasping it between his index and his thumb. You found yourself leaning into his grasp, eyes falling shut as you relaxed.

"Your face is a dead giveaway," Bakugou mumbled, with the confidence of a thousand men.

Before you could respond, or even open your eyes, you felt a hot mouth on yours, pressing you further into the desk.

His left hand found your waist, as your hands found his hair, tugging at small strands.

He nibbled your lower lip, wanting to be let in. You obliged, and found his tongue meeting yours.

The hand nestled in his hair soon found his back, as you traced every muscle. You could feel him smirking against your mouth, but all you could think about was how amazing he was at kissing you.

A twinge of jealousy filled you, as you thought about who he had practiced with. This just made you kiss him harder, a wave of possession washing over you.

Your mouths mended together as if they were made for each other. Your tongues, perfectly in sync.

His hand brought your waist closer to his navel, your chests pressed together. A moan was pulled from your throat.

As you were learning each other's bodies, you were broken apart by a knock at the door, followed by a disgruntled voice, "Break it up.. Y/N, come on out."

Your face flushed in embarrassment. "Yes, sir..."

[vanderilnde]

you lose your way on the pastures of a hidden farmstead. however, upon meeting the husky owner, being lost quickly becomes the least of your problems.

cw for noncon/dubcon, forced lifestyle puppy play, kidnapping

read on ao3

-

John sees you coming from over the horizon.

He heard the sputter of your van before seeing it. The plume of smoke that follows in your wake, orange and ashy, as you drive down the pebbled road.

He was rounding the house after letting the cattle out when he noticed you. He tips the brim of his hat back and watches, grinding his teeth into the wad of tobacco folded into his cheek, his hackles raised because you’ve decided to ignore the splintery No Trespassing sign in big, black letters pounded into the front of his farmstead.

He wraps a hand around his belt, watching as your camper van slows to a stop in front of him.

The hinges in John’s jaw lock. He’s ready to throw out an expletive, threaten you with the bare metal of his pistol, browned with age, and throw you into the back of his rust-bridled truck. He’d drive you into town and toss you onto the porch of the sheriff’s office, maybe teach you a thing or two about trespassing.

But your engine cuts, and your door swings open, and John’s tobacco turns heavy in his mouth.

He sees your shoes first, pressing tracks into the dirty road as you step out. Frilly socks that end below your knees. You’re wearing tight little denim shorts and a gauzy top that sticks to your chest, knotting your nipples in the summer heat.

You smile.

It’s a little sweet, dewy-eyed. It makes John’s cock chub up, makes him swallow his tobacco on accident, sticking to the spine of his throat.

“Hi mister,” you say. Light and wispy like the breeze that whorls through your ropes of hair. “Sorry to be a bother.”

John perks up. He crosses his arms over his heavily built chest, the hair on his forearms bristling with his newfound flush.

“Just trying to find my way here–“ you unfurl a map and point towards a little dot. “Mind helping a girl out?”

You giggle. It’s coy, John tells himself, just like the flutter of your eyelashes as you hoist your neck up at him, preening.

“Um… sure,” John takes off his cowboy hat and runs a hand through his sweat-matted hair. “Four hours. East. You jus’ follow the road.”

Gooseflesh creeps down John’s skin as you turn around and toss your map into the van, your ass spilling from the bottom of your shorts.

You turn back around and John coughs, averts his eyes to the cattle in the distance. He tightens the reel of his lasso around his knuckles, squirming.

“Thanks, mister,” you grin. “Know anywhere I can top up on gas?”

He gives you another look.

His eyes sweep a trail of flames over your body, making your blood churn. He keens at your nipples and the grain of your denim shorts digging into your cute pussy. He can see the barest outline of it winking back at him. Making his cock pulse.

He decides not to tell you about the gas station a kilometre west of here. Decides that would be too much trouble for a pretty lady like you.

“I’ve got plenty,” John says. Gruff, grizzled, like a bear that’s been in torpor too long. “Follow me.”

All John has to do is snap his tongue against the roof of his mouth to get you to follow him. He takes you into his rustic farmhouse, the place sparse in a red-blooded way, and leads you to the kitchen.

You don’t expect the dog, large with mud-felted paws, that pounces and almost knocks you to the floor.

Its tongue is rough and wet and gnarled against your cheek. You squeal, trying to push it away. It probably thinks you’re playing because it wags its tail, nipping at the divot in your shoulder.

“Aye,” John barks. “Off of ‘er, Dog. Git! Git on out of here.”

John shepherds the dog—aptly named Dog—into his crate by tossing a threadbare toy into it. The golden-haired mutt chases after it, following the toy into his cage.

“No way to treat a damn lady…” John mumbles under his breath. He smiles apologetically at you, his soft wrinkles puckering. He puts his hands on his hips, digging his fingers into his moth-eaten jeans and his sun-bleached flannel. He cocks his head to the side, squints.

“So, sweetheart, how about that gas?”

-

John brings you to a barn out back.

He leads you with a hand split on your lower back, past the stables and the paddocks and the roaming cattle beneath the blaring sun.

He pulls open the large barn doors, his arms flexing with the exertion, and puts his hands on his belt.

It’s an abandoned building. There’s no chicken, no stallions. It’s clear that the barn has been delegated to a storage space of sorts, going by the hay-bales strewn around and the miscellaneous staples of ranch equipment.

John smiles. It offsets his rugged look, makes you disarm a bit.

“Apologies for the mess,” he says, starting to tear through the supplies. “Just wasn’t expectin’ a pretty lady on my doorstep today.”

You stifle a giggle just to be nice, but John, in his time-honoured ways, reads it as coy again. It makes his cock stir against the metal teeth of his jeans, makes his mustache turn hot and wiry against the damp skin above his lip.

John rummages some more. Pretends to nick his finger on a metal steeple. Expels a heavy breath. His stomach paunchy and his chest strong, the hairs pressing against the gauze of his flannel as he rises to his feet and shrugs, hands set on his belt.

“Sorry sweetie,” John grumbles. “No gas here. How do you feel about dinner though?”

The change happens so quick you almost get hit with whiplash.

Your lips pop around stutters, and John’s balls turn heavy. He can imagine your lips parting around his cockhead, all the way down to his pubic bone which is stale with sweat and musky, steel-wooled. It makes him grip his belt tighter, white-knuckled, and undo the first few buttons of his flannel.

“Sir… I really should be getting out of your hair.”

“Nonsense,” John chuckles. “It’s the least I can do for havin’ no gas. I can go into town tomorrow and get some.”

You’re already impaired by the burning, penetrative summer heat. It doesn’t help the way John is looking at you, like a stray predator that made its way onto his ranch and forces him to lock up his animals for safety.

John senses the rumination written into your pretty features. He tacks on, “An old man like me never gets any visitors. None as sweet as you, surely.”

You have to nod, still a little hesitant. You say yes only because there’s a bulky rancher here keen on filling your belly and the sun is beginning to set.

John chuckles and claps his large hands together. He leads you back to the main house and ends up feeding you shepherd’s pie and a cold can of Cola. He pours himself a glass of whiskey and that makes you indignant, as if he sees you as a kid.

Dog stirs at your feet while you eat. Nosing at your ankles and nudging your legs for some food. John flares. He snaps his fingers and snarls, and Dog, moulded by his Pavlovian response, ambles into his crate.

“That’s where naughty dogs go,” John tells him. “You’ll stay there ‘til we’re done.”

You finish not long after that. John gives Dog the plates to lick before soaking them in soap water and shows you your room for the night. His room, actually, but he says he’ll sleep on the couch because he’s a gentleman.

That makes you smile.

But when you wake up the next morning, you’re choking.

Your throat is cinched with nylon webbing. The collar cuts into your windpipe, hindering your sprinting breaths, causing panic to lick up your spine. You sweat and the collar soaks it all up. Makes your skin itchy, flaring, as you chisel at your flesh to try peeling it off you.

You stumble out of John’s bed and hurry outside. He’s herding the cattle when you run towards him for help. Your mind is too scattered to realize he’s the only other person on this farmstead. He’s the one who did this.

“Mister, mister–“ your words come out stifled, cramped against the tight ruck of your throat. “Mister, I dunno what’s happened. Help-“

John puts a hand up and tuts like you’re nothing but a strident, misbehaving mutt.

“Easy,” he grunts around a cigar. “Jus’ calm down, will you? You’re hootin’ and hollerin’ and scarin’ the cattle.”

You choke around your tears. You hang your head, still trying to wrestle the collar off you, your fear ripening into panoramic horror when you look down and see golden fur embroiled into the collar. A bone-shaped tag engraved with a word that makes your blood run cold.

Dog.

It’s John’s name for his pet, but on you, it’s derogatory. Degrades you to a four-legged pup that laps water out of a basin and squats to piss, that needs a handler as rough as John to keep you in check.

He cups your cheek, passes his thumb over your fat tears.

“You don’t like it?” He asks, his voice distorted with a hint of disappointment that, despite you, makes you feel bad. “I took it off Dog. Now he’s runnin’ around the ranch with no collar. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

He curls his fingers under the collar and tugs you close. Your face puckers as he expels a plume of cigar smoke over your face, softly squeezing your bum.

“Good dogs say thank you though. Are you a good dog?” John asks. His eyes darken, eclipsed by something dusky. “Or are y’naughty?”

John forestalls your begging reply, squashing it against your throat as he grips your collar and drags you behind him. Taking his puppy on a walk.

You bridle at the deep-seated embarrassment. John’s other animals seem to have more freedom than you, watching from their pens and pastures as you kick and scream behind him. He pulls you into the main house and takes you to the kitchen. Bullies you to your knees in front of the crate.

He grips the scruff of your neck and forces your head inside. It smells stuffy, stale. The dog bed is moth-eaten and covered in fur.

John pats your ass. He rubs your pussy through your shorts, slowly pulls them off. Kisses your slick clit which is outlined by the dewy gusset of your panties.

“Y’gonna keep cryin’?”

A long cry quivers past your lips.

John’s fingers, although jaded, a testament to working with his hands, make you feel delirious. Makes you curl your pert ass into him, your cunt begging for more.

“Go on, girl,” he grunts. “Go on in. Git.”

He takes you by the collar and shoves you inside the dog cage, since–

“You wanna keep cryin’. I’ll give you somethin’ to cry about.”

There’s barely enough space inside to move around. Dog is a big dog, so you’re able to spin around and face John, but that’s all. You tuck yourself into a fetus position, resting on your knees, the metal grating pressing tracks into your hot skin.

“I don’t reward bad behaviour,” John says. “So for that you’ll spend the night here.”

John clicks his teeth each time you misbehave—clawing at the door, begging him to let you out—his kissing teeth bully the sound of your pleas, until eventually, you quieten, responsive to his clicking tongue.

“That’s it,” John says. There’s a thread of praise in his voice that makes you squirm. “You stay there an’ think about what you’ve done.”

He stands up and prepares his lunch. Eggs on bread and a beer to wash it down. John eats slowly, as if he’s teasing you. Disciplining you further. You don’t think he’s going to feed you, another component of his punishment, until he’s rising from his chair and squatting in front of you, his empty plate in his hands.

Well, almost empty.

Veins of leftover egg yolk are smeared around the ceramic. You look at it, and then at John. He passes his fingers over the yolk and sticks his arm in your crate because the gaps are big enough, waggling his coated fingers.

“Eat.”

You’re shaking. Hesitantly unfurling your tongue, working it around John’s thick fingers, swallowing whatever dregs of food he’ll let you. You become more eager as it goes on—lapping at his yolk-covered fingers as well as the mud and mire crusted into his nails. Sucking at his swollen knuckles, nibbling on his finger hair.

He belly laughs before pulling his fingers out of your cage. John stands up and soaks his plate in sudsy water, turning to look at you.

“Busy day today,” he says. “I’ll see you tonight, pup.”

You find yourself whimpering—not talking—as he turns to leave.

-

That night, you’re woken with a scuffle and John clicking his tongue.

It rouses you immediately. That, and the thin sound of his belt unbuckling.

Sweat sticks to your skin, dewy, when John prods through the crate and gropes you. You can’t see him but you can feel him. Rubbing your puffy cunt, thumbing your clit. Flattening his tongue against your pussy and pulling your lips into his mouth.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he mumbles against your clit. “Knew you were a sweet girl.”

John’s tongue travels up and wets your asshole. It makes you jerk against the metal, makes the cage rattle.

He pulls away and you moan, thinking it’s another punishment. You push your ass against the gratings, presenting yourself, the metal gridwall rubbing against your swollen clit and making you shiver.

John mumbles something about patience. It seems that he doesn’t have any patience either, soft-soaped by your pussy, because he’s pressing his tip against your opening and feeding you his cock.

John fucks you through the holes of your cage.

Your lungs barely have space to stretch. Your knees are folded into your chest and your collar is still biting into your neck. You’re being split open on John’s cock, your arousal turning your thighs sticky. Drool trickling from your mouth and sticking to your cheek.

You don’t know when it ends. When you come, thighs trembling, or when John paints your walls. You also don’t know when it starts again.

All you know is that it becomes a daily thing, lapsing into a weekly thing. You go to bed in your cage but, sometimes, when you behave, John will let you sleep on the foot of his bed. He’ll clip your nails for you and keep you well-groomed. Brushing your hair, cutting it for you. Bathing you in a galvanized tub out back.

Unlike with Dog, John will even let you eat while he eats dinner. He’ll unzip his jeans and let you slobber at his fat cock while he sips away at his blended whiskey and polishes off his meal with his full belly and his soon-to-be empty balls, mumbling all the while about how much of a perfect pet you are, how he’ll never let you go.

Not that he was planning to, anyhow.

[visionsofmagic]

day 22: simon ghost riley [sex pollen]

࿓ synopsis • after the mission is done, waiting for trucks, you realize something is wrong with your body but ghost there to help.

―❦ nsfw, roughness, jealousy, fingering, clothes full on/off, dom!ghost, possessiveness, claiming, mentions of exhibitionism (I guess), licking, cum eating, pet names, nearly fainting, crush, f!reader, brat!reader, praising, poison/venom, flower & more in the work! • 3.9k • the longest one for the kinktober, but, who is surprised? I am on my knees for this man, so, hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed whilre writing! here’s our lieutenant, have fun & enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“copy,” ghost said, using the device on his chest as he talked with soap on the other side of the call, making a plan about waiting where you are for a while – inside a small room used as an office for information gathering, while the team secures the building entirely until the trucks come. “y/n and I will wait in here.”

hearing your name from his lips always gives you goosebumps – he has great effects on you, and you believe he knows every one of them because of how he acts around you, however, he’s a duty man, bringing no love or any affection into the field – sadly. you content yourself with the little yet effective affection he gives you though. he’s different around you – even though he will deny it right away.

as he nods to you, then, sitting down on a chair with no arms, he puts his weapon beside it – elbows on his knees, he kneels lower, taking his knife out of his pocket and cleaning it – acting as if he’s alone in the room but you can sense that he studies you.

to act calm down, you travel around the room as possible as you can, the rain washing over the window, giving a sense of coldness. holding the beautiful flower inside your hands, you smell it again because of the addicting scent it has, giving you a feeling of joy, even a highness you cannot acknowledge yet.

finally, putting it onto the table, you grab a book from the shelf, get in front of the table, and sit on it, making ghost stand right beside you as he still uses a cloth to clean his sharp knife.

blowing the dust from the surface of the book on your hands, no glove, the scent of the flower is still on there, you read the title that book has. you chuckle, making ghost look at your face for a moment under the mask, hands never stopping.

turning to him, you show the book, saying, “didn’t know there would be classics on the shelf of the bad guys.”

ghost nods, “it’s just for the display sergeant.”

“it seems so,” you say, shrugging and putting the book down beside you. then, you watch his skull-themed gloves working on the knife, signing because the images – dreams, in other words, come into your mind in which he uses his long and thick fingers to fuck your holes – how would it feel, you ask to yourself, and a deep voice answers it right away, ‘it would feel euphoric’.

when you come to yourself, you look at how his hands stopped, and his eyes directed on your face, studying you.

leaving a nervous chuckle, you hold your thighs tightly to stay still under his piercing gaze. “something wrong sir?”

he gets up slowly, taking your breaths away with each little step he takes. his knife goes into his pocket, and, his gloved hand finds your chin, rising your head up, standing a bit taller than you even though you sit on the damn table. “s-sir?” you try to ask, getting breathless at the proximity you have – it’s not the first one, nor the last, yet, it’s effective as if it is.

“your face –“ he says, furrowing, “it gets redder.”

“huh?” it takes time for you to understand what he’s saying. when it hits you, your eyes widen, thinking that the reason behind being red is him. chuckling, you wave your hand in the air as he leaves your chin, “’s nothing lt, gotta be overwhelming state of the mission we have finished.”

he doesn’t say anything. going back to the chair, his eyes never leave your body as you get up from the table, traveling around the room, and finally stopping in front of the shelf once again. your back is turned to him but you can feel his eyes on you which burns you alive.

palms getting sweaty, hair on the neck getting high, hands trembling, breathing rapidly, nose getting cold, and the whole body except it becomes warmer each passing time – making you weak entirely – it all happens in a moment, before even you know it, your body’s temperature changes from steady to warmer one – only a few places of it remain cold; your nose, the tips of your fingers, and sweats. only simon’s voice is audible as the rest of the world’s noise becomes blurry to hear – to understand. even the rain’s peaceful sound disappears.

it feels far more different than any disease or feeling you have ever felt – taking your logical side away slowly, one by one, it makes you breathe louder, taking the attention of simon to you when you turn to him, hands moving without your mind’s control, scratching your back, neck and even abdomen. “s-simon – “ you say, voice low, haskier than before, using his first name, not the title or nickname.

he stops talking with whomever he talks to through the device, looking at you as your hands find the surface of the table – to become steady, you hold its edge strongly, still looking at his worried eyes.

“is it me or – agh – is it me or the room is getting – uhm, hot?”

simon says he needs to go to soap, as you assume, then rushes to your side – hands find your face after he gets rid of his gloves – skin touching to the skin, you close your eyes and leave a whimper at the feeling of coldness his body has. “ohh – simon –“

“shit –“ he swears, letting your forehead hit his chest, holding you from the back now, he says, “damn, y/n, you’re burning as hell.”

he sounds calm, giving you the power to hold still, and having the strength to hug his arm, “simon – aggh – please, please, simon – help me.”

you have no idea how your mind works in the moment but you’re grateful.

picking you up, he sits you down on the table, holding you by the arms, he makes you look at him, “hey, look at me sergeant. listen here little one, I will go and get the medic team, got it?”

he doesn’t wait for you to answer, ready to leave you and get the others immediately because he cares about you so much that it drives him crazy to see you this weak, so red, breathing rapidly, and can’t focus anything but only him.

however, he can’t go, not when your eyes meet with his, hands finding his chest and holding him dearly – as if he’s the cure you need, and in the end, he will understand that it’s the deal – his your cure.

“don’t leave – simon, need you, only you.”

a certain time passes until he understands what's going on truly after he analyzes all the possibilities and the reason behind your state – the moment the sight of the flower on the table, behind you comes to the vision, he gets it at the exact same moment.

“hey, y/n, look at me kiddo. did you smell that flower?” his patient runs empty – turning your head to it, he asks the question again, and you finally answer by nodding.

he curses under his breath – even his breaths get rapid, how to help you without alerting others is a hard decision to make. he spends his little time thinking about it as he picks up the water bottle from your pack, giving it to you, waiting for you to drink it and get a bit of clearer mind.

“okay, okay,” you whisper to yourself, cleaning your face with the rest of the water, shaking your head, “I get it now – the whole lab, medics, scientists – it’s all because of it, right?”

he nods, calming down to see you good again, not entirely, but enough to understand it all.

“oh, how stupid I am!”

he stops you from going further and blaming yourself – he knows you like cute little things, can’t hold yourself from playing with them, being innocent, and not thinking about the consequences fully. this is why the enemies tried to make venomous yet cute-looking flowers to use against others, to get what they wanted without being caught.

“’s okay, just focus in here, tell me how you feel.”

with wet eyes, you say, “hot – it’s so hot – lt, can I take my clothes off?” you ask suddenly, the logic is long gone, only instincts remain high, and you act according to them. “gotta feel coldness.”

without waiting for an answer, you take your clothes off, not thinking about the outcomes, just doing what you think will be helpful.

staying only with the thin fabric of your upper shirt, covering your body tight, and leaving your abdomen in display, your muscles loosen up. to become colder, with the fact that the temperature lowers as the clothes leave your hot skin, you take your pants off, only leaving the little shorts hanging on your lower part – too occupied to get as naked as possible that you can’t see ghost going and locking the door with the key you used to enter in the first place.

finding himself before you once again, he reliefs when he sees the heat disappearing on you, however, the risk still is there to be fixed before anyone comes into the room, questioning why their lieutenant and sergeant stay silent.

he knows you got the flower with the poison of sex pollen segments – causing the user of it to get a high degree of warmness, especially in certain parts of the body, making the person who used it want to have intimate sessions with another one, and it all happens without their knowledge because they’re too gone to understand the situation they’re in – and that is exactly what happens with you, his delicate sergeant who he needs to take care of – to heal, to become the cure for that he will gladly agree on but first, he needs to tell you about it, retelling what soap told him before you said how warm the air was.

“hey, doll, focus on me, would ya?” he asks, spanking your cheeks lightly to make you focus on him. “you’re under the effects of a poisonous flower,” he shows it again, “the warmness, sweats, desires are caused because of it,” he tries to stay low, not giving his feelings away when he sees your almost naked body and how your eyes wink rapidly, looking at him from head to toe and mouth going dry as you do, “we need to get it out of your system.”

“I know,” you say, whispering.

“what?” he asks, sounding surprised.

you look guilty for a moment, avoid his gazes, you confess, “I read the description on the report but I didn’t know which flower was which – I thought this one was – pure, to use afterward – but it seems it’s already affected.” you sound sorry, yet, you don’t stop on your actions – picking the bottle and using the rest of the water to pour it on you. “I am so sorry, lt, I really am but I – aggh – I know what we should do –“ you look at him from the corner of your eyes, too afraid to look directly, “if you would like to help me – but if you don’t, I can go –“

“no,” he sounds as if he orders you around. he hides the jealousy rising within him as the idea of another man touching you, being the cure, hit his mind – he wants to be the only one who can have you – his good girl – well, not in the particular moment but maybe, you’re still his good girl – or else, you would suggest to go and see a doctor immediately, not waiting and asking him whether he can heal you or not and it’s even meaning that you’re giving yourself to him.

because of the effect of the venom in your system or not, he knows you damn well that you would not ask if you didn’t want it. “I will help,” he says, nodding to show how certain he is, hands slowly reaching your arms, skin to skin, the coldness flowing from his fingers to yours. eyes widen, you look so pretty, he thinks, “just tell me you want it not only because of the pollen but also because you desire it.”

it doesn’t take time for you to confess it, nodding, hands finding his chest, “I desire it,” you say, breathing louder, “I desire for you, sir.”

satisfied, he smirks, glad he has the mask on, yet, you know him, don’t you? even your gestures are proof of it – the hands gripping him by the neck, lowering him down, saying, “sir, your mask is on the way.”

“you’re a brat, aren’t ya?” he teases, not understanding how he is adapted to the sudden situation – he just gives up, giving you what you want – what you need – himself, and taking what he desires for a long time in return.

curling his mask up until it reaches half of his face, lips on sight, he nods, allowing you to move closer and kiss him, and you do it in high spirits, smiling, and connecting your warm lips with his cold ones with such passionate that he puts his palms on the table beside your thighs not to fall onto you.

warmness makes it euphoric – lip kissing lip, tongue joining the other’s mouth intensely, whimpering sounds coming out both of you in unison. hands hugging his neck tighter, you make him kneel down closer enough that he gets between your inner exposed thighs – the hard fabric of his pants touching your flesh, sending chills because of how clothed he is compared to you.

leaving for air, you feel his massive hands moving to your thighs, finding the sports’ edge from there, and pulling it down in one motion after you nod to him, moaning his name lowly, “s-simon –“

“oh,” he says, waiting for you to take your top off too, throwing it onto the floor, putting your palms on the table as you lean to behind, displaying your naked body fully to him with pride and lust – and a bit of shyness you can’t hide. “prettier than I have imagined.”

“you – you have imagined about m – mmmph!” your words are cut by his fingers entering your mouth, shutting you up as he waits for you to lick his two massive fingers. now thanks to seeing half of his face, you can witness the smirk he has, clearly enjoying how you lick his fingers with pleasure, eyes half-closed.

“wondering how you will manage when you have my dick inside you twice as big as my fingers on your mouth, doll,” he says, teasing yet having the voice of a man who tells no lie – only the truth – and just the idea makes your pussy clench around nothing as you suck his fingers, wishing they were his cock instead.

his lips find your ear, whispering, “tell me, do you think you can handle me, princess?”

not in the slightest you believe you can, but, you want to, so, you nod fast, making him chuckle – sounding so sinful and angelic at the same time that you feel warmer – hotter than any poison can give.

“atta girl,” he praises you, both for licking his fingers and nodding, “now take my fingers, need to prepare your beautiful pussy.”

waiting no more, he shoves his fingers into you in one go, making your forehead hit his chest, hands gripping his arms strongly that were he another man, he would break – but no, he’s fucking ghost, and he can receive any damage he can get from you without complaining.

you moan mindlessly, trying to swallow them – it’s too much, you think, too much to handle yet too delightful to push – so, you open your legs wider, they’re shaking already.

“simon – ohhh! yes, yes, yes!”

he chuckles again – how many times now, two? – more than he chuckles for an entire year but it’s you after all – his pretty girl who is so fucked up even with his fingers.

“unbelievable, sergeant,” he says, taking you by the chin, eye to eye, “it’s only my fingers, and you’re already cumming?”

“huh?”

he’s right – he’s so right that it hurts – seeing your cum on his finger, you feel shy, one step away from hiding your face on his chest – but you stop when you see him licking his fingers full of your juicy – a moan escapes from your parted lips.

“mmhh –“ he whimpers, “tasteful.”

it’s the only thing he says before giving you one last look full of danger – mixed with lust – something you see first, something you will beg to see again and again after this night as well.

putting down his mask, he turns your body and bends you down on the table – not too harshly, not too gently.

“simon!” you scream in shock – a shock that turns you on further – even though you cum a few minutes ago, you sense an upcoming climax after he grips you by the neck, pushing you onto the table, getting your ass up. hearing him unzipping his pants, your wet pussy clench around nothing, eyes closed, heart beating as if it will break your chest into two, set free – you know the venom eating your body alive still even after the cum – however, can’t deny decreasing power of it which leaves its place to one and only simon ghost riley who seems like he’s ready to devour you.

“didn’t though ya would get away that easily from disobeying my rules, and picking a possible venomous flower without sayin’ me about it?”

he sounds amused rather than angry – he’s doing it on purpose, to make you go crazy – to make your pussy go crazy for him.

“don’t say such things, lt,” you challenge him to be rougher, being a brat, using the effects of the poison on the advantage. “or else I will disobey you more often.”

“is that so, kiddo?” he mocks you – you can hear it through his husky and dangerous voice, alerting you about what will come – and you’re so right about it when you feel him slapping your ass – body jolts forward – weren’t he holding you by the neck, you would fall at the impact, “then for each one of ‘em, I will fuck you so well that it will dig into your bratty mind not to show disobedience to your superior.”

“wanna learn it, sir, wanna learn my lesson – please, simon – pleeease! need you – agghh –“ your words – or begs if you be honest with yourself, shutting down by his cock’s tip, entering your pussy slowly as he opens your folds wider to make it fit.

with a different desire except being fucked by him, you turn to behind as possible as you can, looking at his thick and long cock staying right in front of your hole’s entrance, “ohhhh –“ you moan with pure instincts when you see how massive it looks.

simon’s head tilts to the side, eyes burning your skin alive, “what is it, doll, bigger than you have imagined?” he refers to the fact that he’s not the only one who has deep desires – but also you – having naughty thoughts about your superior, your lt who you have by your side all the time.

“s-simon,” you sound more fearful than you want to, “will it – will it even fit?!”

he shakes his head in disbelief, kneeling further – his cock enters you deeper, making your back arch in both pain and pleasure – it’s already too much and it has another halfway to go!

“don’t worry princess,” he says – how come he can sound deeper with each passing time? “I will make it fit into your tight greedy pussy. after all, you are made of for my cock – for me, aren’t ya?”

he finds the answer to his question by going in deeper, causing both of you to moan and swear – he shoves his cock deep inside your walls, filling you up fully – the feeling is euphoric, boiling in sin, completing with the lust and passionate coming from the love you have for each other.

“ohhh – simon! it’s too – too much!”

hoping you will be able to adjust his length soon enough, you let him take his cock off out of your aching pussy and shove it inside again with a hard thrust, trying to make it fit – make it give you the pleasure you need as a cure at the highest scale.

“just – fuucck –“ you could never, “mghhm – just one more to fit!” could never thought you would make him swear, whimper, even moan out of all the people, yet, here you’re, in front of his massive body, bent over, displaying your body to him in nude, letting him use your body as he pleases – he does it to heal you, it’s the first thing you believe, but when you go deeper in your thoughts, you realize how not only you but also he is in the need of you – having you.

“there it is,” he says, taking you from your mind into reality, cock has started to fuck you faster, going in and out with perfect rhythm which continues to accelerate instead of staying at the same pace. “told ya you’re made for it, doll.”

starting to fuck you hard, deep and rough – exactly what he wants and you need, he uses your wetness to thrust into you easily, earning sweet voices from your dry and parted lips, looking at your exposed body shamelessly, as if he has all right to do – well, he does, you both know it – feeling pussy clenching, squirming around his length and soaking onto it – mind dizzy, hands gripping the table under them to stay in the earth – he’s the only reality you have who feels like a dream – eyes seeing starts because of how good he fucks you, you sense poison leaving your body, its place is filled with what ghost is giving; heaven and hell – mix.

“simon, simon, ohh, simon! s’ good – agggh – it’s s’ good!”

“shh,” he quite you down, kneeling on your level – cock hit the deepest part of your pussy, thrusting your g-spot without missing, “you don’t want the others to hear, do you?” he asks, entertained when you bite your hand to stay silent, “or you want it. would you like that? others watching your pathetic face as I fuck you good? no one, but me – mmh – fuuck! that’s right baby, no one – just me, simon ghost riley. shiiit – can’t even realize soaking so wet hearing my words,” his fingers joining his cock, picking the wetness you’re making with his fingers, then, shoving them into your mouth.

you moan his name as you suck your taste from his fingers, eyes rolling, going white when he grabs you by the hair, turning your face to watch your pretty face close while fucking you harder as if it’s possible – he claims you, you know it even with your dysfunctional brain, “scream my name louder.”

he orders, hands leaving your hair to position on your hips, holding you still, breaking you into pieces – you don’t know how louder you moan his name, too cock dumbed to care – don’t know how many times you cum onto him – don’t know the tears washing your face – brain isn’t working – or it works just to send pleasure into your twisting abdomen, and abused pussy.

the last thing you feel his hot semen filling you up, moaning your name as he does it, then, nearly collapsing onto you because of how good it was to fuck you.

“fuck, you have no idea how weak you’re making me, princess.” he confesses, picking your body, he guarantees, “don’t worry, I got it from here, sergeant. only rest.”

hearing his words lastly, you give up – the exhausted body is left to take care of him, your one and only simon ghost riley.

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina& @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear & @manuursw *hearts, hearts, hearts* 💌💌💌

[notmuchtofind]

don’t move | r.c

Tw: 18+ smut, hate sex, rough sex, p in v, fingering, violence, choking, degrading, name calling (slur,bitch ect), domestic, c0ckwarming , praising, mental b0ndage, mean!rafe

basically just feral <33

synopsis: You’re trying to escape the house whilst arguing with rafe but he won’t let you get away without a fight

a/n: Sorry it’s not 100% proof read, and this is my first rafe smut i’ve done so let me know your honest opinions :) ty x

“i swear to god y/n if you dare. if you dare leave this fucking house!“ Rafe snarls from across the kitchen island as you begin to stumble back to your feet and contemplate twisting the knob to the front door.

You’re petrified, but you needed to get out of this house and away from Rafe. the constant war that was going on between you and rafe for the past couple of months had brought you to breaking point.

Rafe was, once again, back using cocaine heavily. He’d always manage to break his habit for months at a time, and this time you thought maybe it was for good…However, When Ward decided to cut off all of what rafe had left, due to his accidental loss of money within the business. It turned rafe psycho. You’d been with rafe for 3 years, and you’d thought you’d seen the worst. but this time was different.

Tears stream down your face and past the bloody wound that resides along the bottom of your lip. The tears seem to sting the opening slightly as you feel your face grow hotter. This isn’t the first time Rafes hit you. But it’s certainly the hardest. And when he’s hit you before, he’s almost instantly apologetic, but tonight Rafes eyes no longer reside his soul. He’s switched.

“P-Please Rafe, Stop!!” said almost screaming, desperately, whilst cracks formed in your voice. “you need me y/n” rafe patronised “you’re fucking nothing without me, get the fuck back here now, you bitch!” he spits. but you run, out the door with the keys to the truck you managed to take from rafes pocket the moment you realised he was about to have another outburst.

you wrestle with the keys whilst stumbling bare foot on the mud outside the mansion. You fall onto the dust and drop the keys. It’s pitch black, and you’re unable to see clearly, the only light that glares ever so slightly is the one seeping through the open door to the mansion of the boy thats held you there unwillingly for too long.

You was unable to hear the footsteps that had krept up behind you due to the loud pounding of your heart inside your chest. “fucking slut” he spits as he steps his boot onto the fingers you was using to locate the keys. you wince in pain as rafe puts all his body weight onto your hand. “i told you not to leave baby” he coos whilst looking down at you and tilting his head slightly. Rafe holds eye contact, he looks to be in awe as tears still stream down your face and whimpers escape your lips from the pain you’re experiencing. Rafes large hand grasps your jaw, big enough to rest his thumb and fingers on each side of your cheeks. He then slowly digs his fingertips into the sides of your face and elevates your body up towards his. “i think it’s time you come back inside”.

Rafe grabs you by the fabric of your top and with no hesitation, drags you along the dirt, whilst you squirm and wince in pain. he drags you all the way back into the front door of the mansion. Your legs and arms bruised and grazed, and your clothes now blood stained.

you felt exsausted, but sobs and whimpering still managed to escape your lips. Now laid helplessly in the hallway you beg “Rafe please baby please, this isn’t you i know you you don’t want to hurt me rafe…You don’t want to do this to me, please-please” But before Rafe could’ve even processed what you was saying he’s halfway down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Now petrified to move you lay still in the hallway. After hearing rafe snorting, what youre adiment is cocaine, he reappears, Shirtless, and holding a long woven wrope wrapped around his fist. “So you decide to obey me now and stay put like a good girl?” Rafe states before unapologetically grabbing your left ankle and dragging you through to the dining room.

Rafe dumps your body and runs his hand over his head before he takes his cigarette packet out of his back pocket and lights a cigarette. holding the cigarette between his lips he begins to unravel the rope, wrapping it around the heavy wooden dining table leg. He then begins to wrap the wrope around you ankle, tightly. you beg and squirm and kick.“what the fuck are you doi-“ but before you can finish, your head thuds on the floor as rafes palm collides with your cheek “shut. the. fuck. up” he huffs, rolling his eyes. “jesus fucking christ y/n, you never learn?” he says whilst walking away from you and taking a drag of his cigarette.

You’re now unable to move from the floor with your ankle tied to the table leg, you just watch Rafe pace up and down, puffing on his cigarette, until he stubs it out on the wall and walks back over to where you lay.

Rafe kneels onto the floor, placing his knees at either side of your torso. Petrified and unsure of his next move,you move your head to one side but lay completely still “mmmm what a good girl” rafe coos whilst he begins to trail his hands from your waist to the bottom hem of your top. Rafe begins to lift up your top, revealing your naked tits. Your nipples begin to harden due to the exposure of the quickly changed temperature and rafe lets out a shakey breath.

Your breaths begin to become faster as you begin to notice rafe growing larger and larger through his pants, and even though your petrified of a potential violent outburst from rafe, you can’t help when your stomach fills with butterflies as you imagine the girthy length that rests inside.

Rafes eyes don’t move from your tits as he begins to flick your hard nipple back and forth, occasionally twiddling it between his index and thumb. “I love when you don’t question me y/n i love when you just lay there, all pretty for me as i do what i please. You’re mine” Rafe says, still not taking eyes off your chest.

The way rafes words race around your mind, as much as you hate when rafes like this, there’s somthing about him praising you that makes you weak. You’re so disgusted with yourself knowing you’ve just let him treat you like shit but you know your pussys becoming more and more sticky in your panties as he speaks.

You still lay there absolutely still, as rafe begins to rub himself through his pants before unbuckling them and letting them fall just past his upper thigh. as well as his boxers. His shaft springs up and you get a glimps of his precum shimmering at the end of his tip. Rafe throws his head back whilst he gives himself 3 long strokes over your body. He then begins yanking your trousers and panties down simultaneously, sending pain up your leg as he takes no care in how your legs unable to move due to being tied down. But we’ve established by now rafe doesn’t care about hurting you. if anything it gets him off.

“aha ohhh fuck” rafe chuckles, his eyes dart too your sticky wet folds “it looks like my girl enjoys obeying hmm?” he mocks. tracing his middle finger over your outer lips gently, gathering the already spilt juices from your pathetic cunt. Rafe brings his hand up and forces his fingers into your mouth, wriggling them around the tip of your tongue and then tracing them back around your nipples for a 2nd time.

“do you taste good my sweet girl?”

Your head tilts back and your hips cock up as you allow the pleasure to rush through your body.

The sound of a slap echoes through the dimly lit room and a stinging pain engulfs the surface area of your cheek “don’t. fucking move you slut” rafe spits. loosing his patients he wraps his fist around your throat and abruptly shoves his fingers past your dripping folds and enters the walls of your cunt. You can’t help but whimper slightly, However rafe squeezes your throat so tight you’re pretty sure he was unable to hear it.

Your walls expand as your body aches for something larger to fill your tight hole. Rafe finger fucks you rough, making your body move loosely around his thick fingers. rafe groans as he takes his hand off your throat and begins stroking himself whilst still finger fucking your pussy, getting off to the sensation of how tight u was around his fingers and the squelching sounds that are made everytime he thrusts his fingers in and out.

“mmmm fuck baby” he growls as he pulls his fingers out of you. rafe pulls you close to him by your thighs, unaware of the pain it causes you whilst still attached to the table. but he couldn’t care less, all he cares about is filling your hole with his cock. feeling if you become wetter the deeper he goes. he loves using your pathetic little body, your body is helpless and weak compared to his, and he likes to make sure youre aware. “goood girl, good giiiirlll” he emphasises as his cock slowly enters your cunt. you gasp and your pussy never gets usto the size, it always manages to tear you open slightly, causing a slight stinging pain as he thrusts in and out of you, getting faster and faster he grunts simoultaneously “that’s my sweet girl, stay still for daddy whilst he fucks you senseless” “mmmm”

You’re already so close, and rafe can tell. he proceeds to tell you how good your pussy feels and that you’re all his and that’s all you ever will be. that’s what your purpose is, to serve rafe, in anyway he wants.

“i can feel you tightening around my cock you slut” he says with pleasure “you can cum for me but don’t you dare fucking move” rafe demands “i swear to god if you fucking move i’ll have to carry on fucking you even when it fucking hurts” he threatens.

You beging to feel the sweetness rush over your body, starting in your head and making its way down your body. You fight the urge to jerk your body up towards rafe so his cock goes deeper, you resist the urge to moan his name or dig your fingernails deep in his back to keep him in position. You fight the urges and your orgasm takes over your whole mind, the only thing you can do to express how you truley feel is roll your eyes back into your head whilst your pussy gushes, leaving your cream to rest on rafes cock. He grunts once more before you feel his cum shoot inside you and fill your walls. You moan in pleasure and rafe settles next to you, but still enough to keep his cock inside your pussy, not allowing his cum to escape, as a sign to show you that you’re his.

You’re his slut here to keep his cock warm

please feel free to repost if you enjoyed 🥹 <3

[supershot73199]

Ok so this is not connected to my Big Daddy au

But here is another short fic/prompt so feel free to continue this or do your own spin.

This will be DannyxSteph as I don't see much for them (I believe their ship name is meme lords)

Steph winced in pain as she shifted in the chair she had been tied too. She was desperate as she was trying to find a way to distract the Joker or escape with a broken leg and no gear. She wouldn't have been panicked as bad as she was if she had been the only one grabbed but they grabbed the kid she had been babysitting as well, a sweet little girl only four years old named Dawn who was currently crying in her lap where she was chained while the Joker was monologing at the camera.

Supposedly it was broadcasting live on every TV in Gotham. Steph really hoped that there was someone near Dawn's father to help him through this. Danny ,which is her father's name, was a single father Stephs age (which means that he would have had to been a teenage father with Dawn's age) and his little girl was his whole life which means this could not be easy on him.

Suddenly as Joker was mid sentence everyone froze because they could hear gunshots from outside as well as a loud diesel engine before suddenly a wall collapsed as a garbage truck slammed through the wall before screeching to a halt.

Steph at first thought that it was the rest of the bat's maybe borrowing the truck to get in faster and it seemed like Joker had the same thought.

"Well now I never expected this of you Bat's couldn't use the skyli- you aren't one of the bat's."

And he was right because stepping out of the truck-turned-battering-ram was Danny and he didn't even spare a second thought to the Joker as he set his eyes on Dawn and Steph and called out in a relieved tone of voice. "Dawn! Steph! You're ok thank the Ancients."

"Daddy!" Dawn had stopped crying at the sound of her father's voice the tension in her body fading away with that childlike certainty that her father would make everything better. However Joker not one to be ignored reached out and grabbed Danny's arm before speaking.

"Now the shows not over there Daddy but thank you for adding a new hos-"

"Fuck off bozo!" Danny didn't even slow using the same hand Joker grabbed he shoved him off sending the clown stumbling back a few steps as Danny finished crossing the room before quickly cutting the ropes with a pocket knife (and Steph was not blushing at the strength he had to have to cut the sturdy rope in one smooth movement no siree) with Dawn quickly leaping into her Dads arms as soon as the ropes fell away.

Steph turned to the Joker who seemed stunned hand on his chest where he was shoved seemingly shocked that someone had done that with no fear. Turning back to the father daughter pair she started quickly speaking in a low voice hopping not to break the trance the clown prince of crime was under.

"Quick you need to take Dawn and run my legs broken so you need to leave me here the Bat's will be here soon ill be fin-"

"He can't hurt you anymore." Danny's voice was calm and steady as he interrupted Steph. He looked her in the eye before looking pointedly at the had that he shoved the Joker with opening it to reveal something that made Steph gasp.

A human heart still beating though it stopped as she looked and the moment it did she heard a thud as the Joker fell to the floor limp as a puppet with its strings cut.

"Is that .." Steph couldn't even finish the question. But Danny still nodded before tossing it unceremoniously to the floor.

"Nobody threatens the people I care about and gets away with it. He forfeit his existence the moment he grabbed the two of you."

Steph felt like her own heart was about to fall out onto the floor the combination of the Joker a bogeyman who had terrorized Gotham almost as long as she had been alive just dead, dying without so much as a whimper much less a bang. Done in, not by any bat or caped crusader but a father who only wanted to save his daughter. As well as the implication that Danny cared for her too that he killed the nightmare of every kid in Gotham for her sake as much as his daughters.

Danny had separated from Dawn after placing one more kiss on her head and whispered comfort that Steph was to shocked to pay much attention to before quickly coming to check on her injury.

"Looks like a clean break so it should heal fast. I just hate that you got hurt protecting Dawn even if I'm more grateful than you can imagine that you tried to protect her."

Steph smiled "We've known each other for months now and I love that little girl as well. No way was I going to let someone touch her without a fight."

Danny looked up at her from his position next to her chair with a look that Steph couldn't describe before standing up.

"Here I'll carry you to one of the ambulances I hear coming this way."

As he bent to scoop her up Steph got his attention as she got ready to do something impulsive. As he turned his head toward her Steph grabbed his head and pulled him into a kiss. Danny froze against her before returning it the pair only stopped when they heard a giggle.

"Daddy and Stephie are kissing! Does that mean Stephie is my Momma now?" Dawn's voice snapped the two out of it but before Danny could say anything Steph beat him to it.

"Maybe one day Daddy has to take me on a date first and we'll see where things go. Say a movie this Friday?"

Steph knew she was being bold but by God she was not letting this absolute dork start to spiral she knew from the amount of time they spent together as neighbors that Danny had a surprising low self esteem and would probably convince himself she only kissed him out of gratitude or something when in reality she has wanted to do this for months and just didn't know how to initiate.

"That sounds wonderful I'm sure miss Chen downstairs would be able to watch Dawn if I ask." Danny's blushing face only made Steph giggle as he responded. But as he lifted her she noticed the Jokers camera with the recording light still on and she knew she was going to get so much shit from the other bat's so she decided to share the embarrassment.

"Not so sure you'll have to ask seeing as everyone in Gotham just saw everything on their screens.

Danny who had just picked Steph up in a princess carry without hurting her leg froze before letting out a groan.

"Oh I'm never going to live this down."

[hapinesbuterfiy]

casual - rafe cameron ೨౿

🎧🪩 casual - chappell roan

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

summary: you and rafe have been casually seeing each other for what feels like forever now, but is your relationship really casual?

warnings: angsty, rafe is a dick in some parts, not proofread!!

"baby, no attachment" is a phrase you know all too well, one that rafe cameron whispers to you between passionate kisses, before getting on his knees and devouring your pussy in the passenger seat of his jeep. nothings official between you two. you're relationship is casual, according to rafe. he's confusing, to say the least.

rafe could be all over you, wrapping his arms around your waist in front of the entire club, drunkenly telling you how beautiful you looked. he'd call you in the middle of the night, to say "m' pickin' you up be ready in 5. we'll go to that diner you like, i miss your face." you spent countless nights with each other, sharing your deepest secrets and the most intimate parts of yourselves. your favorite bra is still in his dresser from the first time you hooked up, and he refuses to give it back to you because he likes the "constant reminder of your tits." you even got invited to spend a weekend with him and his family in paradise island.

but you're relationship is casual. right?

you hate yourself for letting it drag out this long. rafe's different around his friends, distant. there are even rumors going around that you're "just a girl he bangs on the couch." you try your best to be nonchalant and give him his space, but deep down you know you're not capable of that.

it's casual but you spend hours on late-night phone calls, having the deepest conversations and confiding in each other with things you have never told anyone else. you're his casual hook-up but picks you up in the middle of the night to take you back to tannyhill because he misses you. so really, is it casual? no.

it's 1:52 am. you find yourself underneath your plush duvet cover, you're small reading light illuminating the space, on facetime with rafe, again. you always carefully listen to everything he has to say, trying your best to console him, especially when it comes to everything going on with his dad. however, this time it's different. you're sick of the constant state of confusion he puts you in, you decide that now is the perfect opportunity for you to confront him about it.

"rafe. can you come pick me up? i wanna talk to you about something." you're soft-spoken but your tone is stern, you're not going to allow yourself to continue to play these games with him, you want answers.

he's unfazed by your request, simply grumbling in response. you can hear his bed squeak as he gets up and grabs his keys off his nightstand. he mumbles "mhm, text when i'm there." before ending the call.

you rush to your dresser, throwing on your favorite brandy melville set and fuzzy slippers, he'll be here soon. rafe's massive headlights could be seen from down the block, you didn't need him to text you to be aware of his arrival.

you step up into the passenger seat, carefully shutting the door behind you as you get into the truck.

"hi. missed you today. what did you wanna talk about?" he motions his hand toward your thigh, gripping the soft flesh under your shorts. the truck was freezing. you could feel the goosebumps appear throughout your limbs as you sat their, you're only relief from the cold being rafe's hands.

"rafe... i know you said no attachment but i can't do this whole casual thing anymore. 'm not that kinda girl." you're eyes dart down to the carpet beneath your seat, trying you're best to avoid contact with him until he responds. .

he lets out a large, exasperated sigh as he removes his hand from your thigh, brushing his fingers through his greasy curtain bangs as he shakes his head.

"listen kid. alright? 'm not in the headspace to be in a relationship right now. i don't wanna get into anythin' serious. i don't wanna hurt you. yea?" he brings his focus back to the road ahead of him, driving around in circles as his firmly grips the wheel.

your face drops. you're in complete disbelief that he had the audacity to say that to you. "you don't wanna hurt me? are you fuckin' kidding me? rafe you're casual bullshit has been hurting me for the past six months." you begin to yell, anger completely taking over you.

he pulls over, not wanting to get distracted while driving, he knows how much you hate it when he doesn't pay attention to the roads. "hurting you huh? so you mean to tell me that i'm hurtin' you by buying you shit, listening to your rants, and givin' you the best sex you ever fuckin' had? really?" he throws his arms up in defense, licking his lips while eyeing you down.

you could feel the tears starting to spill out from your eyes. you manage to let out a "rafe it's not fair, i can't just do casual" between sniffles, you place your head into your hands as you continue to sob into them. oh shit— he knows he fucked up.

he parts his lips, letting out a large exhale as he tries to come up with a quick way to calm you down. he moves his body so his torso is situated above the glove box, making it easier to reach you. he pulls you into his arms, wiping the tears off of your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, pepping soft kisses to the top of your head.

"sh. i know. i know. 'm big bad rafe cameron yea? 'm sorry i hurt you. i gotta figure my shit out. 'm gonna take you back to my place, we'll talk about it in the mornin' alright?"

you nod in response, embarrassed that you let yourself break down like this in front of him. you know it's wrong, but maybe you weren't delusional after all. maybe when you wake up in the morning you wont be casual anymore.

[callofdudes]

Best idea

Y/n had to go MIA/KIA to keep the 141 safe, once Simon founds out angry cause he mourned for his best friend only to find out their alive and in hiding, demanded platonic cuddles as their “punishment”

Ok, I'm gonna get the brain juices running for this one. Another one based off a story my bestie @itsscromp and I did. But I changed it up. Hope you enjoy, it's longer than I anticipated it being.

Also, I should have fully expected the repercussions of letting you guys vote Egg as a callsign... but I'ma still use it.

Where did you go??

Summary: They thought you were gone, dead. Turns out you were under their noses and a call away the whole time.

Cw: Angst. Nothing much else.

Your mission had gone... Well for lack of a better word it went to shit. Whole thing blew up. An ambush, a bomb, it would be a long road to explain what all in all happened but it did, and now you were paying for it. It had gotten so bad they couldn't pull you from the junction you were stuck in.

You were supposed to be infiltrating an old base which had become home to a drug ring. But no one happened to mention the mines you'd step on and fuck up your leg with. Or the live wire that alerted the whole base after said mine went off.

So now this entire base was up in arms, you have a broken leg and probably other damage. You were lucky your leg hadn't been blown off.

And to be quite frank, these men were extremely dangerous which meant your fuck up was astronomical. The second they found you you were probably going to die.

So you commed into Price, telling him your situation.

"Alright Egg, I'm going to go in on foot and bring you back to the helicopter just hang tight soldier."

"Yes sir." You lay down, catching your breath and willing yourself not to look at your leg because if it felt bad it probably looked bad too.

Not twenty minutes later Price was approaching your form, bending down to check on you. "You broken??"

"Yeah I'm pretty sure... I don't want to look though."

Price nodded, tucking his gun away and grabbed your arms. "Alright, up we go," he hauled you up into his arms, hefting you over his shoulder and going back the way he came. Just... A little quicker this time since things were looking good for the oppositions infantry.

Price brought you back to the helicopter where you were bandaged up. The mission could have been better planned so they didn't end up sending another team out.

Price had the team drop you off near some loading stations far off the location of the base.

"What... Are we doing here??"

Price got out of the helicopter and checked your leg before pulling you out with him. "I can't bring you back to base. It's a security risk if I do..."

You frowned. "What do you mean?? Where am I going then??"

"There's a secure underground safehouse that will keep you hidden. It's got the provisions you need and the people you need. They'll keep quiet and keep you safe. For now, for however long, I need you to lay low."

You opened your mouth to protest but then shut it again. "I understand. Will I get to see the others..?"

"No, you are not to contact them in any way at all. Until I contact you, you are to remain on the downlow."

Your head falls slightly, but you nod. "Alright, I can do that."

Price nodded and patted your shoulder. He picked you up and helped you into the truck waiting for you. "They'll take care of you. I'll contact you as soon as it's safe. If I do not contact you do not contact us. Got it?"

You nod once again, taking the instructions to heart. You wouldn't be able to contact Ghost, Soap or Gaz. You wouldn't be able to contact anyone. But you knew this was for the best.

So with a last goodbye Price closed the door to the truck and the soldier in the driver's seat drove down the empty road out of the landing space.

"How long will we be gone??"

"Until we get the word from Captain Price. Don't worry. It'll be kept under wraps..."

...

Price returned to the base, taking a deep breath and having had time to figure everything out. He immediately called the others into a meeting.

Considering you and Price weren't supposed to be back for the rest of the day, or even two days or more the meeting was seen as urgent.

Ghost was there first, the sergeants following his trail as they came into the office. "Price... What are you doing back?" Ghost asked sternly, hands clasped tightly as if ready for action at a moments notice.

"Relax... There won't be any fighting. I need you all to sit."

Soap threw Gaz a concerned look as they sat. "Where is y/n, are they still out there??"

Price straightened his posture. He didn't exactly want to lie to his own men, but he'd done worse and he knew this was completely for the best.

"The mission didn't go well as soon as we went in."

Ghost frowned. "Didn't go well?? These drug traders could be connected to Shepherd's on power, how did it wrong??"

"Ghost, relax." Price replied firmly. "I realize that we didn't think this over as well as we should have... Their base was much more protected than we originally thought so Egg went in blind."

"So what happened? Did you pull them??" Ghost was growing more agitated the longer they sat there.

"They commed in about an exploded mine and... We couldn't find them."

The room grew quiet. Soap and Gaz shared concerned looks as Gaz spoke up. "Did you do a full search? We're they hidden in the dirt or something and you missed??"

Price shook his head. "Too risky to go on foot and search. We didn't know how many more mines were out there." Only a small white lie, but a lie nonetheless.

Ghost squared in his chair. "Then we need to go find them. What are we sitting here for just waiting-!"

"Ghost, if they are safe they'll comm in. For now I can't risk sending men in there with the base on high alert and their supposed boss on speed dial. So for now we sit down and we wait to see if Egg comes back with anything."

Ghost was boiling up underneath. Feelings of rage that Price couldn't have waiting a little longer. Worry because they left you out there probably still alive... And fear. Because what if you weren't alive.

"I won't make any calls on it now, but this is where we are at so remain patient. I'm doing what I can to sort this out." Price had to rewire this plan to keep all of his men safe. All of his soldiers, including you.

"Dismissed."

The air was tense when everyone left. The idea you were out there alone, still alive and possibly if not injured and with no help. It scared them all.

Gaz was the first to try and get in contact with you. But any of his efforts were proving ineffective.

Soap just had to wait it out. To hope they could find you or you could find them in time.

Ghost... Ghost didn't know what to think. He knew you were capable. He knew if you were alive then you'd comm in. Once you were safe he knew you would make contact. You could protect yourself... He had to believe you would be ok.

That mentality lasted right up until a week later when Price called everyone back in to pronounce you MIA. Stamped on a card to your file and just like that, they truly had zero traces of you.

They were devastated. A week and no turn of anything from you. This is when Simon started to call your phone. Leaving you text messages.

He couldn't sleep because all his thoughts and dreams were of you. Hoping you were ok and alive. That hope was dying, waking up in cold sweats on nights he could close his eyes for even a moment.

Clutching his beating heart while his body rattled with panic, phone pressed to his ear only to hear your voice over the same simple voice mail as ever.

He couldn't be without you. You were a crucial part of his life. Of his mission. He couldn't just abandon that connection. You had to be alive.

Price cut communication with the safe house you were being taken care of. Unless it was an emergency Price knew not of your condition, only that you were safe. He too was worried, bouncing around through meetings and talking with Laswell and this and that and the other thing.

Trying to figure out what to do now that they needed a new plan and how long they could wait to re-infiltrate.

Simon had started leaving you voicemails, not knowing if he'd ever hear your voice again.

"Hey, this is Y/n, I'm currently busy but please try to leave a message so I can get back to you!"

Simon laid awake, staring up at the ceiling as he held the phone to his ear.

"Y/n.... If you can hear me you gotta respond. Please, I don't know if you'll ever hear these again but if you're somewhere out there I know you're alive. Anything, please, I..." He closed his eyes, thinking back to the last time he saw you. Taking off in that helicopter, a pat on the shoulder and a good luck...

"I miss you. And I'm not giving up on you. I'm not." He wouldn't cry... He wouldn't cry. He would not cry.

"I'm going to come find you. I know somewhere you're still alive. Even if their torturing you I promise I won't leave you out there to die you hear me."

Tears rolled down his cheeks and he covered his eyes, curling up on his bed. "I know you hear me...." He choked out. "I know you can hear me...." He stares at the phone. "Please Y/n.... Please, anything..."

He stared at the phone, waiting like you would magically pick up and reassure him even for a second that you were ok and alive and even if you weren't thriving you were still breathing.

But no...

The voicemail lasted for over an hour. Simon laid there, staring at him phone, unable to bring himself to hang up again.

His thumb hovered over the phone. He wanted to say one last thing... He opened his mouth, but he hesitated. His eyes downcast and one last tear rolled down his cheek as he ended the call once again. Only to face another restless night of no sleep.

By the eighth month mark you were pronounced KIA.

Simon had pretty much known by that point. He'd lost his best friend but he had been in denial until Price told them. They couldn't find a trace of you. No body, no tags, no clothes, no weapon. You had simply... Vanished.

Simon continues to mourn all while you were still being held up in that underground safehouse. Sitting on the small rickety bed, watching the higher ranked soldiers also staying watch at the safehouse talk in the other room.

It was beyond difficult. No contact with outside, you ate, slept, the others tended to your leg and occasionally sparred with you to help you back on your feet.

You missed your team. Your friends. Your family.

You listened to every single voicemail Simon sent. You couldn't reply. Couldn't text him back or even pick up the phone for a second to let him know you were ok.

You remained radio silent.

Even as you'd lay awake at night with your phone replaying the voicemail, listening to the recorded lapse of Simon's breathing while he stared at the phone with an empty, sorrowful expression from the other side.

You missed him so much. You wanted to see them again. But you couldn't. Not yet. Would you ever get to see them again?? They couldn't leave you down here forever.

There was a brief knock on your door as one of the sergeants nodded to you. "Food is ready, new supply just came in."

You nod, pausing the voicemail. "Thanks... I'll be out in a minute."

You sighed, turning off your phone and tucking it away, praying that you'd see them soon.

...

Simon had lost you. Didn't even get a chance to protect you. It had gotten to the point where his lack of sleep would lead to seeing figures of you disappear down hallways. In a spark of hope and joy he'd rush to find you only to find nothing...

On the off days he'd run into a recruit or a sergeant wandering the halls. As soon as they would turn around though... The illusion would shatter.

His own mind was killing him from the inside. Sending you hundred and hundreds of text messages. Every morning and night, rants about his day and what he was feeling. If he was going to pour everything out like you'd ever see it he did it now.

Knowing you'd never pick that phone up again, knowing you'd never look him in the eyes again. Knowing he'd never hear your voice or feel your touch or know your comfort ever again.

This drove him further and further into the spiral. Price had never seen Simon beat up the punching bag so much he bled all over it. He'd never seen Simon get snappy and angry I'm split decisions like he did.

He'd never seen Simon grow so desperate and over protective of Johnny and Kyle. Because Simon's new fear was he'd lose them just like he lost you...

This went on for the next three months after that. Nearly a year since you'd died and they were back out on that minefield. A proper plan, a new way in, a new goal.

Simon was desperate to tear that base apart and even find a trace of your body. Even just a piece of your clothing or your signature engraved gun hanging in their armory somewhere.

But in the end he was left with no more questions answered than when he first entered that meeting room eleven months ago.

Simon had followed the trail to the last thread. The main office of that base. Pulling open every drawer and every cabinet.

"Lt stop you're making a mess-!"

"There's got to be a file or something here! There fucking has to be!"

"Ghost stop we found the information we needed. We have the shipments contained the base is clear what could you be looking for??" Gaz asked, trying to understand what had gotten Ghost in such a frenzy.

"A kill list or an interrogation chart. Anything."

"For what Simon!?"

"For Y/n!!" Simon snapped at them both. Breathing heavy as he finishes emptying every drawer in that office.

Price stood silently in the doorway. Enough time had passed. He wouldn't put them through this anymore.

"Come on lads... I think it's time I show you something."

Their attention turned on to him. Simon was almost vibrating with rage and anxiety. He just wanted any knowledge of what happened. He knew you were dead but his soul was restless without knowing. He needed to know...

They left, Price piled them in the helicopter and the ride back was silent. Simon stared at his hands the whole time. Soap fidgeted, knee bouncing and chewing his lip anxiously.

Gaz picked at the loose strap of his gun, also attempting to distract himself from the elephant in the room.

When the helicopter landed they weren't on base. They landed on the small helipad you had been brought to some some before. Price got out, motioning the other three to follow.

"Where are we Price??" Soap looked around, not recognizing the place.

"You'll know soon enough." Price brought them to a truck, talking with the officer in charge of the station before climbing in the driver's seat.

The sergeants got comfy in the back and Simon slipped into the passenger seat. His eyes remained fixed on the passenger window, watching the open land pass by and the fields of undisturbed flowers and wildlife.

What if he had found you here? May you would have liked that better. Surrounded by the flowers and the soft blowing breeze instead of wherever your body lay, ashes or not.

He turned away, fixing his eyes to the dashboard to try and distract himself.

The ride was quiet once again. Lasting about an hour and a half before Price stopped, parking the vehicle outside a small outpost of sorts. It wasn't build very high off the ground and was concealed by trees and wildlife.

"A safehouse. Why cannae we jus' go home??" Soap asked as he jumped out of the vehicle with the others.

"I'd prefer we made a stop here." Price said, leading them to the entrance where surpisingly a soldier was there to bring them in.

"Occupied? Now there's something new." Gaz whispered to Soap.

Simon didn't understand why they were even making this stupid trip. He wanted to go back to base. He wanted to hide once again like he always did.

"Captain Price, welcome back." The soldier shook Price's hand and walked them further inside.

"Sergeant! Their here for you!" The soldier called out, walking to one of the small rooms where you were. Where you spent most of your time.

You looked up. Who was here for you?? Your eyes widened. Them, your team! It had to be them they were back!

You pushed off your bed, leaning into your good leg and moved faster than you had in almost a year. Turning the corner and there they were. Price, Simon, Johnny, Kyle. All of them.

But.... This wasn't the hopeful reunion you'd pictured in your head over and over again. No one moved. The thought of Simon rushing the hug you didn't come true as he didn't move.

Price walked over, embracing you. "Good to see you again sergeant." You hugged him tightly, so good to be held by him, embraced by Price again. You'd missed him so much.

Johnny was the second one to snap out of it, running over and wrapping his arms around you tightly. "What the hell is wrong with you doing this! You had us all sick and worried and heartbroken!!"

"It wasn't my plan... I'm sorry." You hugged Johnny back. "I'm so sorry Soap, I'm so sorry." Johnny couldn't stop his tears, not wanting to let go in fear you'd slip away again.

Gaz followed, hugging you tighter than you'd ever felt him do before. You'd never seen Gaz openly cry but he was balling, sobbing as he hugged you tightly.

"We thought you were dead, captain told us you were dead!"

"I had to do it to protect them... To protect all of us." Price knew this would probably take a bit for them all to come to terms and forgive him for, but it had to be done.

When the others were done cooing and coddling over you, there was just Simon left.

He felt alone. He felt cold and separated. He felt like he wasn't a part of the same bubble as the others... He watched them embrace and kiss and love on you... You. It was you.

You turned to him, but Simon didn't move. He didn't know if he could. He felt so consumed by his darkness and his grief it didn't allow him to step into the light.

He'd consumed himself so much if he touched you he felt he might burn. That you fall like sand from his fingertips and the illusion would shatter...

"Simon...." You whisper, stepping toward him, causing Simon to step back.

You could see the fear in his eyes. The lack of trust, the amount of hurt, the pain he must have went through to have one of his lifelines ripped away and then thrust back into his life suddenly like it was fine.

"I'm... I'm sorry Simon I didn't mean to hurt you. I listened to every voicemail you sent. I knew every text that went through. But I...."

"You could have told me you were fine! You could have told me you were ok!! Bullshit that you couldn't!! Bullshit!!" Simon thundered.

You remained silent. Simon glared at Price. This was his fault. You'd been taken away without warning. He could have kept it a secret he could have carried that knowledge and not been out through a years worth of fire from hell!

Simon threw his gun to the ground, not even carrying as he left again.

"Lieutenant! Simon!" Price called after him as Simon left the safehouse.

You placed your hand on Price's chest. "Don't... It's ok. Let me help him."

Price looked down. But he nodded.

You left the safehouse, finding Simon around the corner huddled up, shaky hands trying to light a cigarette to get his nerves to calm down and his mind to clear up.

"You hid from me." He cursed, acting like he was seconds from spitting your name into the dirt and squashing it. But you knew. You knew inside he was hurting more than anyone else on the team.

You knelt beside him, gently taking the lighter from his hands. "I never meant to hurt you. If I didn't have strict orders from Price I would have contact you right away."

"Why couldn't he have at least told us you were ok. That you were alive."

"I... I don't know Simon, you'll have to ask Price about that one. But I promise I never meant to hurt you. I listened to every voicemail, I didn't give up. I can see the pain it caused you."

You moved closer, slipping into his arms and hugging him tightly. The second you wrapped your arms around him. He felt your weight, your warmth, your heart pounding in your chest against his own.

Simon finally looked at you, tears spilling down his cheeks. He was shattered. So hurt from losing you.

"You fuckin' abandoned me!!"

"I didn't abandon you Simon. You know I would have picked up and came running back even if my leg was missing."

He knew it was true. But he was so... So angry and torn and upset. He wanted to scream and fight and he felt so small and helpless.

The real you.

Not some illusion passing corners or drifting through his peripherals. The you he could touch and hold and protect.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, never letting go of you even once. He didn't stop those tears as he pulled you impossibly closer.

"I'm here Simon. I'm not leaving again ok? I'm right here."

He remained silent, crying as he held onto you. Hiding his face in the crook of your neck. It felt like hours passed. It felt like time slowed. What felt like two hours was twenty minutes when he finally pulled away enough to look at your face.

To see the light in your glimmering eyes, to see every feature of your face that made you, you.

His sergeant. His teammate. His family.

You smiled softly, gently pulling up his mask off his head to cup his cheeks, rubbing your thumb gently over the dimple in his cheek you've seen when he shows you his smile.

"Smudged your paint a little bit," You whisper. "Let's get that fixed." You gently brush your finger over his face, feeling him start to relax at that familiar and missed touch as you fix the paint around his eyes.

"There we go. How can I help Simon. What will help make this better?"

Simon tried to flick away the rest of his tears, huffing softly. "Cuddles. And you are not allowed to say no after what you put me through. This is your punishment for making me go through that shit!"

You chuckle. "Oh, cuddles with Simon, scary. I'll pay the fine, I'll do all the punishment time of cuddles you request. Sound good?"

Simon nods his head.

"Ok, well how about we go inside now? I could use some cuddles too."

You were about to get up when Simon hugged you again. "I'm glad you're ok..."

You smiled softly, kissing the top of his head. "I am too Simon." You help his mask back on and the two of you head inside.

Simon would let out his feelings to Price sometime later when his head felt less foggy. For now, he was content to crash on the rickety old safehouse bed and koala cling to you till kingdom come.

Nuzzling up and holding you tightly, not letting you go for even a itty bitty millisecond.

And you were fine with that. You were glad you could be back with your family. Simon was glad to welcome you back. You'd be serving a lot of cuddle prison time. A strenuous task, but one all too rewarding.

Running your hand down the back of his head, scratching his back to help him relax and set himself at ease.

All he needed was to koala crush your soul into his soul, and then he'd be ok. Slowly, his eyes started to close after the exhaustion of the mission, but he fought to keep them open.

"I'll be right here when you wake up. I promise, I won't be going anywhere." You whisper to him.

"You promise?"

"I double swear it. I won't leave. I'll be right here."

He snuggled you impossibly closer and let his eyes close. He let his mind rest. His heart soak in you and heal. Slowly you could help mend what has fallen apart.

And cuddles were never a bad place to start...

[cupidssorbett]

"What a cowboy.”

Cowboy/Vaquero Miguel x Ranch-Hand? Reader.(Beautiful art above is by Katromz on tiktok and insta!)

Summary: Miguel ends up trying to befriend his longtime friend and employers niece however maybe befriend isn't quite the word.

Includes: AFAB reader but no specified pronouns/race/looks nothing, flirting/teasing, Nicerish AU Miguel, caught masturbating, Oral M & F, recieving praise, mentions of the word 'cunt/pussy', P in V, as well as not much use of name more nicknames.

P.S Vaquero and Cowboy are the same words for those who don't know, a friend requested this so I delivered! Please pardon any terribly translated Spanish I am still learning and had only few help from a friend of mine! This was a request so thank you to my friend!

Word count: 7766.(it's a long one babes.)

By cupid.

Begin.

You’d been sent out for the summer to help your uncle at his ranch, you didn’t mind too much it’d be giving you more to do than usual. He was happy to have you since most his ranch-hands called out or would be busy trying to fill in the empty spots left by others. So when he heard his favorite niece would be dropping in to help out he was more than delighted.

It was a long, long car ride to his ranch and by the time you had arrived the sun was high in the sky and it was sweltering. You hopped out of your dad’s truck with a smile on your face, your cousin’s Poppy & Nana coming to greet you with enthusiasm, quickly taking your bags. “Look at you two, it feels like it’s been forever since we’ve hung out together!” You say as you nudge Nana’s arm, she laughs a bit as the three of you trudge up the dirt driveway up to the main house.

Poppy opens the door for you as soon as you head inside you hear a squeal from your Aunt Maria, who immediately runs over to scoop you up into a hug. “Sweetheart it has been too long!” She says excitedly as she practically squeezes the air outta you. “I missed ya too aunty but please..please let me go I can’t breathe-!” You manage out as she lets you go, “Oh my! Sorry ‘bout that sugar! It’s just been so long!” She says pinching your cheek a little. “Now, Girls go show her to her room alright? Get all cozy, Jack said he wasn’t gonna have you start work till tomorrow when he can give you the lowdown of everythin’ new.” She said shooing you three up the stairs.

You followed the girls up the stairs as they talked away, you weren’t really invested in the conversation as you looked at all the old pictures that were hung up on the walls. All those old memories made you smile, you were out of it until Poppy pulled you back into reality with a tug on the arm, albeit a hard tug, “You alright there?” She asked, raising a brow at you as nana opened the door to the room, you blinked and flashed her a smile. “Yeah just got a little out of it, this heat whew it is-” “Why don’t we head to the lake!” Nana says with a bright smile as she sets your bags on your bed, cutting you off.

“Oh I don’t know what if your dad needs me here or help with anything I’m not just here to leisure about.” You say as they both sigh dramatically, “C’mon you heard mama, papa’s not gonna need you till tomorrow!” Poppy says crossing her arms, eventually you sigh giving into them and their antics. Excitedly they leave you to get ready telling you to meet them downstairs when done. Once you are ready to go with a little bag that has sunscreen and such inside you hurry downstairs the two girls waiting for you.

You can’t help but grin with their contagious smiles, “Ma! We’re heading to the lake!” Nana calls out to her, “Be safe girls! Be back by sundown too ya hear?” She calls from the kitchen and you all respond with unanimous ‘Yes ma’am!’ before hurrying out the door giggling like a bunch of school girls as you anticipate the cool water of the lake.

It was a bit of a trek until you reached it, shoving branches aside and walking through bushes hoping none of them were poison ivy or poison at all. Once nana pushed a thick willow branch aside you sighed happily, the blue water shining under the high sun. The three of you quickly hurried to the shore finding a nice spot to lay your things.

As you and nana carefully laid things out poppy quickly ditched her shorts she wore over her swimsuit bottoms and ran into the cool water with a loud cheer. She then decided to splash the two of you, causing you to get a cheeky grin. “Oh that’s how it’s gonna be huh?” You asked playfully as you ditched your own shoes and bottoms before running into the water yourself.

The cool embrace of the lake on your warm skin made you feel completely relaxed, until you remembered your motive to run in here in the first place. The time at the lake started with games and running off the rock ledge that overlooked the lake to jump in. Splashing one another or Watching as someone did something dumb for what felt like the 100th time in those hours.

By the time the sun started to settle down in the sky you were resting on your towel as the girls continued to play in the waters. Drifting off into your own daydreams, sunglasses shielding your eyes from the fleeting rays, until you were startled awake by squeal. You assumed something had happened, so you quickly sat up pushing your sunglasses to sit on your head. “What? What happened?” you asked worried, until you saw them giggling over something or more rather..someone.

You let a slight huff at the fact they had you all worried for nothing, you however curiously followed their eyes. Wondering what could’ve caused them to squeal to begin with. Down a good way from your spots on the bank was a man, a rather handsome man you had to admit. Poppy however caught your staring and with a cheeky smile sat beside you, “Ooo! Do I sense a crush perhaps?” She said with a shit eating grin.

Waving her off you stopped staring at the mystery man, “Oh please, You think everything is a crush or love related.” you said, trying to dismiss her packing your stuff away as the sun started to set. Nana was quick to hurry outta the water spotting you and your packing, quickly just tossing her stuff in her bag as you & poppy shook your heads at her mess of a bag now.

All of you hurried back dodging branches and plants until you were on an open stretch the house coming into view, “So..” you started, earning their attention again. “Who was that guy?” you asked, keeping your gaze ahead. You heard the stifled giggles and such from them before nana caught up to you, “He is papa’s right hand man, quite the looker isn’t he?” she teased with a smile. “I suppose,” you said as you walked up the porch steps hearing their squeals and giggles. “But don’t go tellin’ anyone, I barely know that man.” you said sternly pointing at the two of them and they quickly stopped their giggling nodding as you headed inside.

Heading inside your aunt had prepared some dinner for when everyone got back, and as hungry as you were you decided to go and get a shower. Not before your uncle was quick to scoop you up in a hug much to your protest before you fake made a disgusted face before he ruffled up your hair as you headed up the stairs getting a warm shower and some dryer clothes.

After dinner and what not you were sitting upstairs with Poppy & Nana and one or two of the herding dogs, flicking through movies trying to find something to watch. Seeing as none of you could agree on anything it eventually came down to just getting some sleep, the hours at the lake tiring you out and your aunt & uncle calling out a goodnight to you three had reminded you that you’d be out helping in the morning so sleep was a good option.

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The birds started chirping and the sun began to peek through the blinds, once it hit your eyes you groaned and began to open your eyes with a squint bringing a hand up to block the bright rays from practically blinding you. Sitting up blinking the sleep from your eyes you took note that it was just you and nana in the room, nana being fast asleep still.

You decided it’d be a good time to wake up and get ready so you could start helping your uncle out, you quickly brushed your hair to look less like you just got up and then you grabbed an outfit from your suitcase that would best suit the chores you’d be doing and the hot summer heat. You quickly made your way downstairs some of the dogs following you, “Mornin’ Sugar!” Aunt Maria called to her as she flipped some pancakes. “Morning Aunt Maria, Where’d poppy run off to?” you asked, snatching up a piece of bacon from the plate on the counter sharing some with the dogs.

“Oh she ran into town to fetch some more seeds for the garden, Jack told me we had extras but I know we didn’t, speakin’ of which since your most likely heading out that way mind giving those breakfast burritos on the counter the boys.” She asked using her spatula to motion to the cloth covered basket. You nodded, finishing the bacon off and grabbing the basket heading out the back door and off the porch to the main farm area and barn.

It wasn’t a long walk by any means, just one that felt long with how the sun sat so high and beating down on you, you spotted your uncle's truck out front of the barn. All the workers either sitting in the bed of the truck or leaning against it, you hurried over with a smile on your face as your uncle spotted you tipping his hat back slightly, a smile coming to his face.

“Hey there sweetheart, whatcha got?” he asked as he got up off the side of the truck walking over. “Aunty asked me to bring these breakfast burritos for you boys.” you said and they all hooted and hollered hurrying off the truck to grab one for themselves making you just laugh and shake your head. “Thank you for that darlin’ , right you all know my niece don’t you?” He asked, raising a brow as a few murmured yes’s and no’s were heard.

“Well you do now,” he said as he motioned to you, moving aside as you gave them all a wave of ‘hello’ then you spotted him, the man from the lake the other day. You didn’t realize you were staring until he made eye contact with you. A rather cheeky smile gracing his lips.

Once they were all done with their burritos the real work began. “Alright, Think you can work on feedin’ all the animals first then we can start on herdin’ the pasture ones back alright?” Your uncle asked and you nodded, “I’m on it!” you said with a smile. “How bout I send someone with ya, we’ve got a few new ones that might need some introduction, How about..Miguel!” your uncle said, clapping his hands together.

You were picking up one of the feed bags off the truck bed when a rather tall and muscular man walked up with a slight smile on his face, “Looks like I’m helpin’ you today sweetheart.” Miguel said, and oh god Miguel was the man from the lake. This realization almost had you dropping the feed bag before you quickly readjusted your hold on the bag. He only chuckled, slightly tilting his head and the brim of his hat up, giving you an even better look at his face, “Come on don’t go fallin’ for me already.' ' he teased at you.

Huffing you adjusted your grip on the bag turning on your heel with a little scoff, “You wish, I would never I barely know you.” You said as you began walking, utter bullshit, you couldn’t lie that his face, his eyes, his damn voice had you enthralled. He only let out a hearty chuckle following you carrying a bag or two of his own, “Then why not get to know me?” He suggested, shaking his head as you sped up your walking speed.

When you finally reached the animals you breathed a sigh of relief, quickly hurrying over to say ‘hello’ to all of them forgetting about Miguel following after you, he stood off to the side as he opened some of the bags watching as you excitedly said ‘hello’ to the ones you knew, all calling them by name then excitedly gasping at the ones you didn't know.

He had to admit he found it amusing, cute even at the way you greeted them all. He had to, he just had to, he cleared his throat which brought you back to your little situation causing you to huff almost and it only made him chuckle as he pushed a feed bag, ready and open your way. You grabbed the bag, opened the pen door and made your way inside without him, starting to fill up all the feeding spots walking about.

Miguel thought this would be a good time to start a conversation, “So, Why do ya keep ignoring me?” he asked and you just hummed in response, “I’m not.” You denied, “Ah-Ah just now you almost did.” He said looking at you, that stupid look on his face had you smiling slightly and rolling your eyes. Trying to look away before he caught it, but oh he caught it. “Hey! I saw that, I made a breakthrough!” He says motioning around to a nonexistent crowd almost proud of himself causing you to shake your head with a slight smile.

You two finished up the feeding chores with relative ease, the tension simply melting away as you two actually got to talking with one another actually getting to know more like he suggested, then you started saddling up some of the horses so they could head out to check for any lost or still loose cattle or sheep. You finished tightening one of the straps, patting the nose of the horse, a smile on your face when it responded with a big sloppy lick to your hand. “Alright, Are we ready to get a move on?” he asked as he took the reins from your hand. “Yep, All saddled up.” you said with a little salute.

“Thank you sugar, how bout you go feed the calves while we’re gone if you're up for it?” your uncle asked, hoping on the horse. “I can’t say no to feeding the calves,” you said with a smile. With a few waves and goodbyes you went off in search of the bottles that had the formula for the calves that were rescued and didn’t exactly take to any cow the ranch had. You grabbed the bucket of bottles and took a seat in the stable stall with one of the babies. Taking the bottle out, the little thing came running and it made you laugh.

You held the bottle up for it and at first it went well until it didn’t somehow, something had gotten on the shirt underneath your overalls and that was not sitting well on your skin with heat in the air. So you thought, hey they wouldn’t be back for maybe an hour or two at most so you unclipped the clips of your overalls and took the shirt off letting it rest on the table that had all the tools and such then you clipped your overalls back up and when right back to taking care of the calves.

To you only 30 maybe 40 minutes had gone by so you still weren’t too worried about putting that shirt back on or heading back to the house as you happily wandered the stable saying ‘hello’ to the horses that stayed behind. Blissfully unaware that Miguel had headed back to grab the hat he had forgotten, quickly making his way inside of the stable. Stopping his tracks quietly when he spotted you petting one of the horses and it seemed innocent enough until his eyes seemed to wander lower..to the point where he noticed you were not wearing a shirt under your overalls. And not wanting to make you uncomfortable or wanting to make anything else happen he just gave up grabbing his hat and left as quietly as possible.

When you had assumed they’d be coming back you went and got the shirt off the workbench and put it back on quickly as the cowboys came into view. You put on a smile and looked ahead as they made their way over and started hopping their horses all saying their ‘hellos’ and such but Miguel just completely ignored you, was he not going on about you ignoring despite barely knowing him earlier? What a hypocrite.

You just shrugged it off, what would it matter really, you said a quick ‘hello’ to your uncle as you checked the time, you had promised you’d spend the last few hours before the sun actually set at the lake with the girls and you had to depart to get ready. Simply brushing off Miguel ignoring you, you went back to the main house to change and once you were done you headed off however little did you know you’d spend your time alone at the lake..well for a little bit at least.

You relaxed on the bank for a little bit taking in the sun's rays after applying sunscreen of course, waiting thinking maybe they’d got busy or something. So you went from enjoying the water to resting on the shore to reading the book you brought until you exhaled a bit annoyed. You got up, gathered your things, slipped your shorts back on and made your way back to the main house in a slight huff.

When you opened the door your aunt seemed to pick up on your bad mood, “What’s the matter pumpkin?” she asked as she dried her hands with the towel. “The girls told me to meet them at the lake and then they just didn’t come!” you said with arm motions. She seemed to shake her head and sigh, “Well if your looking to pick a bone with them they might’ve gone down to the guest house to deliver the fruit like I asked, the one where the cowboys are stayin’.” She said, giving you a little nod. You thanked her begrudgingly before starting your way to the guest house, saying hello to the cowboys you saw as you headed by whether they were lugging hay or simply just passing by.

You got to the guest house and opened the front door, it was rather empty, and you didn’t hear any giggling, not even a hint of your cousin’s voices, you raised your brow carefully making your way down the hallway. You continued until you saw a door slightly creaked open, you neared it hoping maybe your cousin’s were just fooling around here and that you could drag them back. But that idea quickly evaporated as you neared closer you heard..grunts? At first you thought it was one of pain but when you got a view of what was behind the just barely opened door you quickly realized it was not one of pain rather of pleasure.

There Miguel laid on presumably his bed, legs spread slightly, cowboy hat resting lazily over his head, pants just barely down his thighs as his head moved up his hard erection..precum leaking from the red angry tip. You couldn’t help but stare, biting back the gasps with a hand over your mouth. His teeth sucking his bottom lip back slightly exposing his sharp canines that had you feeling some kind of way, but oh boy it just got better as soon as you mindlessly dropped your hand from your mouth he muttered out your name, “Dios... Ni siquiera sé cómo me hiciste esto..(God... I don't even know how you did this to me.)” He murmured out in Spanish as he hissed when he glided his thumb over the leaking slit.

Miguel was lost in his own thoughts, his mind flitting back to when he saw you in the stable in nothing but your shoes and overalls. He groaned out as he moved his hand up, he knew it was wrong and dirty not just for the fact that he was just getting to know you but the fact he wished it was your hands and not his then he was snapped back to reality by a noise..

You gasped and your gasp got his attention causing you to quickly hide behind the wall before he could spot you, when you heard him moving off the bed you were quick to run as quietly down the hallway. Your feet carried you quickly as you hurried out of the guest house not wanting to get caught in the slightest.

Your heart felt like it was in your ears, your cheeks felt hot, hell your whole body felt hot. You hurried quick and fast to the main house, your feet just carrying you inside as you gave a quick ‘hello’ to your Aunt before going to your room flopping onto your bed. Burying your head into your pillow and just screaming muffling it.

God..he was thinking about YOU? That had your heart feeling like it was going to burst out of your chest, you rolled onto your back as you stared at the ceiling that moment replaying in your head causing you to subconsciously rub your thighs together before you brought your hands up to smack your cheeks, mentally cursing yourself for feeling this way.

Huffing you sat up on the bed grabbing your journal you brought with you, “God..Was he really thinking about me? But why,” you murmured as you flipped out the journal trying to write it out of your mind at least so you could push it off and act as if normal. By the time you finished you were called down for dinner and you just inhaled and exhaled pushing it to the back of your mind shoving the Journal under your pillow and heading down.

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By the time dinner was done you and poppy were helping with the dishes as a few of the cowboys stopped by to drop off some stuff and there he was again, you quickly looked away as he spotted you offering you a sweet smile and tilt of his hat. You only just ignored him continuing your conversation with poppy and working on the dishes.

When you finished you quickly dried your hands not wanting to stick around for very long you couldn’t even fathom why seeing him again got you so much more worked up than it should. “I’m headin’ to bed really tired, Night everyone!” you called quickly as you hurried up the stairs to your bedroom causing Miguel and a few others to raise a brow before just brushing it off to turn to their own things.

You inhaled sharply and exhaled laying onto your bed, your hands traveling gingerly down your stomach to the hem of your pj shorts. Your fingers slipping past the hem of the shorts to your panty clad cunt, exhaling slightly as your fingers brushed over your cunt that slight pressure you added caused your body to melt slightly into your pillows. Your mind clouding with thoughts of him, before the sound of someone coming upstairs snapped you back to reality.

You quickly pulled away from your shorts and grabbed a random book from the nightstand to act as if you were reading. Poppy and Nana came bursting in with a movie for the three of you to watch and you all but sighed happily as it was something to completely take your mind off it.

The movie was put in and the lights were turned off getting all cozy in your beds and watching the movie until you all but fell asleep..

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For the next few days you did your best to keep your distance from Miguel but your hard-headedness to stay away from him only had him more intrigued and always earned a laugh from him because you always denied his questions whenever he asked one and you denied his help just to make it easier, but it seemed to fail every now and again considering your help to your uncle’s work and with him always having the cowboys with him you only ever saw him everyday..

The next morning came and you decided you’d just avoid Miguel completely and only interact if you just HAD to interact with him thinking that it would be best especially because of the way you made him feel and with the way he had you feeling even if you were just getting to know him better.

Today you dawned a nice summer dress as you were going to help your Aunt in the garden to keep a distance between you and him. You put on a sun hat and followed your Aunt out to the garden to work on the precious marigolds she had planted that were getting swallowed by the pesky weeds.

Dropping down onto your knees and getting to work right away you heard a clatter of tools causing your head to whip around to where it came from, and god fucking dammit you swore nothing was on your side this week, it was miguel, tool belt beside him and a few fence posts as he shot you an apologetic smile. “Sorry bout’ that didn’t mean to startle you act like I’m not here.” you only hummed in response, turning your attention back to the flowers.

Digging into the dirt yanking weed after weed out as the sun began to rise high into the sky above, causing you to start to sweat under the hot rays. You huffed sitting back on your heels as you dusted your hands off of dirt with the exception of some stuck under your nails. Miguel heard your little huff and his eyes happened to wander your way, gazing unapologetically up your figure, your flushed face and slightly pouted lips catching his attention.

He cleared his throat slightly, turning his attention back to the fence, “You doin’ alright Miss?” he asked, tipping his hat back slightly. You just hummed in response earning a small frown from him, “What?” you asked, raising a brow. “How come you keep ignorin’ me, I thought we were making progress?” he said as he looked at you.

“Well, You started it when you came back from the stable that day and completely ignored me.” you shot back as you crossed your arms, “I did not I was just busy,” he said more matter of factly. The way he seemed so hurt by your antics had you feeling bad almost, you eventually sighed dropping your arms to your side. “Alright fine I have been but I ain’t telling you why, BUT I will make a better effort to stop ignoring you I suppose.” You said and you watched as his face brightened slightly.

“Well I think I’d be the happiest cowboy around,” He said with that stupid smile, “You're so weird.” You stated, shaking your head and turning your attention back to the weeds. He only laughed and went right back to his job, that’s what sparked the two of you talking again, you knew deep down you weren’t gonna be able to ignore him even if you tried because that really only made things awkward so you decided it would be best to try and be his friend.

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That is how you spent some of your days, getting to know him and then spilling your feelings to your little diary and then going right back at being friendly, well one fateful day you made the mistake of leaving your diary not entirely under your pillow.

You were helping Miguel lug some hay to the truck and you exhaled, noticing the way your skin was getting a little red, “Damn, Hey Miguel could you go to my room and grab my sunscreen for me? I’ll finish loading up the hay if you do.” You said giving him a little smile and he sighed with a laugh. “Alright alright I’ll go fetch it, Where would I find it?” He asked stopping in his tracks.

“On the nightstand!” You called back as you grabbed another bale, he nodded giving you a little salute before setting off. He headed inside offering a polite ‘hello’ to your aunt before going upstairs finding your room and heading inside. Originally he was just here to grab the sunscreen and go but a little book peeking out from behind your pillow had him curious.

He stopped for a moment before he eventually caved and carefully picked it up in his hands, just a peek, it wouldn’t hurt really. Just a peek turned into reading some pages and skipping others, that was until he stumbled upon some of the more..explicit pages and they seemed to be about him. God he felt his pride swell, the way you thought about him and looked at him.

“Well damn little lady..” Miguel murmured with a slight smile on his face before he shut the journal, having now learned about your developing crush on him and the way you thought about him. He grabbed the sunscreen and headed back down and out with a curt tip of his hat.

You noticed when he was walking back he had a little beat to his steps causing you to smile and raise a brow as you took the sunscreen from him. “What’s got you so happy go lucky?” you asked as you applied some on your face and arms and he just hummed in response. “Eh no particular thing, can’t a man just be happy hm?” He teased you and you playfully swatted at his arm. Once you were all good with the sunscreen you two got back to work, all the moving and feeding and more moving of stuff had you both out till the sun was settling near the mountain tops.

“Hm, Looks like we should start headin’ back Miguel.” You said looking at the way the sun was settling, “Ah right, can’t believe the day slipped away from us that damn quick.” He said as he adjusted his hat to sit back on his head slightly, you couldn’t help but admire his features slightly before snapping yourself out of it. “Miguel, I was wondering if you, I mean if you and any of the cowboys would like to come down to the main house for a lunch of sorts,” Miguel smiled coyly at your little invitation, “Oh? You're inviting little ol’ me huh?” he said his smile went from coy to smug and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“You wish, I’m doing it as a request from my aunt.” You said lying through your teeth, no you were wholeheartedly inviting Miguel, using your aunt as an excuse so he didn’t see right through you. However that was long gone really, he already saw right through you, you and your dirty little thoughts with the way you looked at him and what he learned from your diary. He dramatically put a hand over his heart, “I am truly honored sugar,” he joked causing you to roll your eyes again starting your way back to the main house.

His smile never leaving his face,”See ya tomorrow sweetheart,” he laughed as you turned away from him quickly heading back to the main house to wash up for dinner, he knew damn well what he was going to do tomorrow to get you alone and he couldn’t wait.

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He spent his day counting down the minutes till he could meet you for lunch well you and your family really, when he saw how the time neared closer he had gone back to the guest house to freshen up opting for a nicely pressed shirt, one of his nice belts, and some jeans that he knew you thought looked damn good on him. Grabbing his hat swiftly and the sunflowers he got just for today.

Making sure he didn’t look too eager he toned down his steps and his excitement, knocking on the front door adjusting his grip on the flowers. He heard you call out ‘I got it!’ before your footsteps followed, opening the door you were the picture of summer. Wearing a nice little sundress, hair more loose and free, and a smile creeping its way onto your face. “Howdy little miss.” He said his southern drawl coming out more has he held the flowers out to you.

You accepted them gratefully, “Miguel you really didn’t have to-” “I wanted to sugar, there’s a difference.” He hummed as he walked inside with you greeting your aunt and uncle with his usual polite demeanor and then greeting your cousins with that smile of his. You couldn’t help but grin, going and finding a vase for the flowers. “He’s a real nice boy ain’t he?” your aunt asked, having noticed your grin.

Still subconsciously smiling as you filled the vase with water you shrugged, “Yeah I suppose he is.” She just laughed a bit as she brought the food and drinks to the table with you following behind her setting the beautiful sunflowers as the centerpiece. Calling everyone to the table for lunch, you settled into your seat, Miguel sitting in the seat beside you which was across from your uncle so they could continue whatever conversation they were having.

You all served yourselves and then conversations began, it felt like most lunches with the addition of Miguel, little did you know what he was planning. He knew how the herding dogs were so when your aunt went to grab the pitcher of juice he sneakily tossed a piece of food underneath the table causing all of them to make a run for the food bumping your aunt’s chair, the pitcher of juice ended up splashing all over your sundress causing you to squeal and jump up.

You quickly excused yourself to hurry up stairs to remove the splotches of color that had begun to seep into the fabric more and more. Miguel excused himself as well, saying he had a call to take and it was rather important. Your family thought nothing of it, just hoping you’d be alright. He headed up the stairs with ease as he heard the sink start to run. Inside you had grabbed a cloth and began to rub at the stains without much thought.

Then a knock sounded and you sighed thinking it was your Aunt or cousins you opened it, it was Miguel. “Ah- I’m sorry I’m tryin’ to-” Miguel cut you off, “Don’t worry sweetheart, I know how to get pesky stains out especially ones that ruin such a nice dress.” You blinked the nickname felt less innocent for some reason especially with the way he was looking at you.

You cleared your throat allowing him to come in and shut the door as he kneeled down digging through the cabinets, “Ah here we are,” He said holding some bleach, “This oughta help somewhat.” He hummed as he dabbed a cloth with some leaning forward looking at you for your permission. You nodded slowly and he brought the cloth to one of the stains, wiping gently. His touch so gentle and soft had your stomach erupting in butterflies.

You felt your arousal grow slightly from his little touches and ministrations and the way he always looked to you with those eyes as a way of asking. You couldn’t help but stare at him, analyzing his features and then a chuckle erupted from his chest causing you to snap back to the situation. “Darlin’ If you keep staring at me that way I might just have to do what your little diary says.” the mention of your diary as your cheeks flushing red and your heart speeding up more than it was before. “I beg your pardon?” was all you could manage out.

He chuckled, setting the cloth aside and moving closer, “I didn’t wanna tell you this sugar but I’ve read your little journal and all the thoughts you think bout me.” He whispered softly against your ear causing you to shudder slightly. “Miguel I can explain-” You started, “Shh, Shh no need sweetheart, I know exactly what you need.” He said softly as he leaned closer, his lips hovering just away from yours. “Question is, do you really want this?” He asked wanting to really make sure this wasn’t some wet dream or that it wasn’t you who felt this way. You swallowed hard as you exhaled shakily, nodding, “Words sugar.” He said softly against your lips. “Yes Miguel, Please.” You pleaded slightly and he chuckled, shaking his head. “Goodness little miss your going to be the death of me.” He teased before your lips met.

It started out soft and sweet then grew into something more passionate and rough as his hands rested on your hips, his thumbs tracing patterns on the cloth that covered them. You pulled away for air, your breathing coming out in small pants and huffs. “Look at you..Kiss bitten lips all needy for me.” Miguel said with a slight smug smirk, “I’m not needy.” You shot back at him with a small huff.

His hand went from your hips to your thigh working up to your panty covered clit, a gasp eliciting from your throat. “Not so needy huh?” he teases as he rubs a thumb over your covered clit groaning at the way your arousal has made your panties wet. “Not-Not needy at all,” You managed out as a whine followed your words when his hand moved away.

“Then maybe I shouldn’t,” He started before you sighed, “Please Miguel..” You murmured, earning a smile from him, “Please what?” he said, pushing you on. “I need you.” you whined out earning a satisfactory chuckle, his hands found your waist and he hoisted you up to sit on the counters of the bathroom. His lips immediately find your inner thigh, sucking marks into the soft skin.

His hands wander as you let out small gasps and cries trying to be quiet, as you beg for him, as you beg TO him. God he never really thought his little idea would work but here he was buried in between your thighs, what a dream. His lips inched closer and closer to where you wanted him, he gently pulled your panties down and off. Then he licked a slow stripe up your folds eliciting a moan from you causing you to cover your mouth.

You could practically feel the smile he had on his face, he began eating you out like you were the last meal he’d ever eat. His tongue working your leaking hole then focusing directly on your clit. Humming gently when his lips wrapped around the sensitive bud causing a guttural noise to slip past your hand. His pace is unforgivable with the way he’s eating you.

He acts like he's a starved man eating the most delicious food alive and he just can’t stop, one hand keeping your thighs apart and the other massaging the soft supple skin. The way he alternates between tongue fucking you then sucking at your clit has your head in the cloud feeling like your on cloud nine.

Without warning he shoves two fingers in causing you to gasp at the surprise feeling, his fingers working slowly but surely in a soft pace to give you time until you're practically begging for more and he gives you more. His fingers curl in the right spots as he pumps his fingers in and out of you sloppily kissing and licking at your clit.

All the stimulation has your head reeling as a knot forms in your stomach, he doesn’t stop, he makes direct eye contact with you with that smug smile on his face as the knot snaps. Your velvety walls spasming around his fingers as you orgasm, your eyes shut tight as he laps up all of it slowly letting you down from your high as you exhale sharply when he removes his fingers.

His hands come to make quick work of his belt and jeans bringing his boxers and jeans just low enough for his painfully hard cock to spring out. You can’t help but stare as he works it slightly, your mouth practically hanging open at the sight of it, precum beading at the tip as he works it slightly lining his head up with your entrance.

He looks to you for another affirmation and you nod looking up at him with those pleading eyes again and he can’t say no to you. He nudges his head in before plunging in full force eliciting a loud moan from your lips and groans from his with how tight you are around him. “God..So tight, such a good girl I swear.” he murmurs as he begins thrusting into your cunt, the praise causing your pussy to flutter around him. He acknowledged this with a little smirk.

“You like that huh? You like being my good girl,” He huffs out earning a whine from you, he lands a small slap to your ass causing a yelp to fall from your lips. “I asked you a question.” He said gruffly his change in attitude had your stomach feeling butterflies. “Yes, Yes s’good Miguel!” You cried out as his pace became relentless. His smirk remained at the way you reacted to all of this. His hands have a grip on your hips that’ll most definitely bruise without a doubt.

His face finds itself in the crevice of your neck placing soft kisses and words of praise into your ear, your mind practically melts from all of this as he fucks you with such a pace, the sound of skin slapping and your muffled whines and cries becoming evident as he continues on. Your legs come to wrap around his back slightly as he pulls his face away to watch where you two connect. “Tan condenadamente apretada, tan buena para mí.(So damn tight, so good for me.)” He managed out as your walls fluttered around him, having a vice on his cock.

“That feel good? Hm?” he asked knowing damn well your practically fucked dumb at this point, nodding your eyes fluttering open as he comes to rhythmic pace that’s hitting all the right spots for you. He continues to praise you and kiss up your neck leaving marks occasionally just because he can. With the way your walls clench around him he can tell your close, his free hand comes down to rub circles on your clit making you gasp and your head loll back onto the mirror behind you.”So damn needy for me..Taking all you can get.” he chuckled out.

“I’m not needy,” you managed out best you could as you took his hat from him, He shook his head at your hard-headedness “Eres tan terco…(You are so stubborn..)” He huffed out with a chuckle, quickly taking his hat back from you as you shot him a mischievous smile even in your mind melted state. Rolling your hips eliciting a groan from the cowboy who tossed his head back, his hat covering his face.

He hums slightly, leaning down to plant kisses on your collarbone and shoulder, “That’s how you wanna play huh?” he murmurs into your skin, his pace picking up almost knocking the air out of you, the lewd noises that spill from your lips spur him on, and that familiar knot tightens in your stomach, then the coil snaps and your cunts warm walls restrict around him and he can’t help but groan before he quickly pulls out before he can cum. Causing a small whine from you at the loss of feeling full.

“You wanna play games then we can play games sugar.” He says as he brings you off the counter onto your knees, you swallow thickly as you gently kitten lick the tip of his cock, soft and slowly. Teasing him with it, earning low groans and even slight whines from him. You don’t get very far with your tricky endeavors before he bucks his hips slightly causing you to gag around it. “Sorry bout that darlin’ just can’t help myself.” he says with a slight smile.

You start a steady pace, your hands resting on his thighs as you bob your head back and forth, your nose touching the tip of his pelvis before you pull off of him just to tease him again. He groans out before laughing slightly, his hand coming to find itself behind your head. “God you are just a little tease ain’tcha.” he says before thrusting into your mouth, causing you to gag slightly and pat his thighs. Tears welling in your eyes.

“Shh shh, it’s alright just relax.” He says softly and you try to, finding a steady breathing pace through your nose and relaxing your throat slightly. He begins face fucking your practically, drool coming to spill from the side of your mouth and nose tickling his pelvis as the hums you produced in response to his praises elicited groans and huffs from him.

His pace was rhythmic until it became erratic, his breathing becoming more uneven, “Don’t think I’m gonna last any longer.” Miguel huffs out as his pace becomes more needy. You hum around him and he groans, begging you to do that again and you oblige, humming around his length gagging slightly. The sensations send him over the edge after a few more thrusts his cum spurts down your throat causing you to swallow out of reflex, he slowly pulls out a string of spit connecting him to your kiss bitten drool covered lips. God the sight of alone could have had him going again he leaned forward wiping a thumb over your lip to wipe the drool away as you swallowed.

He planted a small kiss on your temple, “You're just perfect darlin’.” He praises making you smile slightly as he helped you stand up, a hand resting on your hips. “Maybe we should head back down, Wouldn’t want your family to worry too much.” you hummed in response, “I’m gonna change first, you go on down.” you said softly planting a kiss to his cheek as you carefully exited the bathroom to go back to the room.

Could this be the start of something real with this cowboy?

Fin.

[celestialprincesse]

🫧💕

Single mom!reader X Simon Riley cute little post deployment fluff

The moment you see Simon's truck pulling into the shared apartment building parking lot, you're gathering your daughter in one hand and Riley's leash in the other, all whilst being bashed unceremoniously in the face by the 'welcome back' sign your three year old insisted on making with glitter glue pens and heart shaped rhinestones. You'd tried to help her with the spelling, but your unwavering conviction very clearly passed down to her, reflected in the gold glitter lettering of 'wellkum bac' and a child covered in more glitter than her little project. 'No bath mama!' still rings in your ears if you listen hard enough.

Anyone could be fooled into thinking that the grim reaper had come for them at the sight of Simons massive, black clad frame blocking out the already dim light of the hallway - but not you, not your daughter and never Riley. He's already dropping his duffel down by his front door, hoisting your squealing daughter on his hip whilst Riley practically vibrates at his feet with how quickly his tail wags. What you can't get used to, however, is the way you're enveloped into his chest, his masked lips pressing kisses into the crown of your head, Riley's leash dropped so he can lace his free hand through the silky softness of your hair.

"You're back." You hear yourself hum into his chest, letting your fingers curl tight into the old cotton of his henley, reminding yourself that he's here, that he's back and safe. "Are you alright? You're not hurt anywhere?" "Few cuts and scrapes - nothing for you to worry about Love." He rumbles, gently pulling you away from the soft warmth of his chest so that he can take your cheeks in one big palm and look properly at you. "Missed you." Simon admits quietly, allowing himself just a moment of quiet affection whilst your daughter is occupied with grabbing at his mask with her chubby little fingers. "And wha's this?" He turns to look down at the toddler in his arms, pointing at the now crumpled sign she clutches. His smile at her poor spelling and valiant effort is concealed by his balaclava, but you can tell by the way that his brown eyes scrunch at the corners that he's grinning warmly as he drops a kiss on your daughters head, now occupied with Riley's soft ears.

"I made dinner." The sound of your own voice, so full of love and longing, feels foreign to you, as foreign as the concept that you've got someone to make dinner for, someone who cares enough for you and your baby to be a consistent part of your life. "I can bring it over, if you want. I'm sure you're probably desperate for some alone time." You stammer in a poor attempt to not sound so lovesick, a lame play at nonchalance. "Let me drop my stuff and shower and I'll be right 'round." The sound of your daughter whinging as she's handed back to you makes you cringe. Simon lifting his mask to press a tender kiss on the apple of your cheek stops you completely.

𝜗𝜚

They're happening😚 need to commit and give single moms! daughter a name lol

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

HCs: Ken meeting a Human!Fem!Reader who owns a ranch

Wanted to write something for this movie bc it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past two days. So enjoy, lovelies! 

I’m taking requests for this movie so don’t be shy <3 

[SPOILERS AHEAD]

...........

After going back to the Real World to find a purpose for himself, Ken runs into you, a country girl who left the Mattel company to take care of your ranch.

You just stopped in the city to find new outfits..and instead found him rollerblading through the park, immediately recognizing him as a Ken.

You may not be in the company anymore but you just knew (especially with his vibrant outfit giving it away).

You two hit it off right away and eventually you go shopping together.

He gets a new cowboy outfit and is bashful when you pay for it (to which you reply that you..really didn’t have a choice in the matter, as he had no money).

He’s like “ohh that happened before when I was with Barbie..we got arrested for the second time that day :D”

You’re very concerned and decide that he should stick with you from now on (not that anyone at Mattel would ever care about a Ken running around to begin with...you just didn’t wanna have to bail him out of jail).

On the truck ride back to your home, you mentioned owning a ranch and Ken’s in a w e

You tell him more about it, and he’s so intrigued and can’t stop staring at you the entire time, especially as you go on about how a lot of women in your world are cowgirls and how they aren’t represented enough.

He bluntly states that he once believed “patriarchy” was all about the horses and you nearly laughed, but he seemed sad about it, so you assure him if he wanted to see horses, he made the right decision coming with you.

You introduce him to one of your favorite steeds and he’s SO overjoyed to actually see one in person. Like petting its mane and asking dozens of questions like an excited kid.

“Are you sure Barbieland didn’t have any horses of their own?”

“No, we just have the ones on sticks and our imaginations.” He pouts, mimicking the way he rode invisible horses with his hands. “But this? This is WAY cooler!!”

He tries mounting your horse, envisioning himself riding off into the sunset, free as a bird while shouting “yeehaw” at the top of his lungs-

Only for it to rear its head up and nearly stomp on his foot, with you having to calm it down as he snaps back to reality, looking utterly distraught and stressed over upsetting it.

“Alrighty. Ken. If you wanna ride a horse..the first step is earning its respect. Thought you would’ve learned about that in those books....but if you’ll let me, I’ll show you how to properly mount one. Luckily this one here’s accustomed to double riders.”

His face lights up and he listens to every instruction you give him, from placing the saddle on its back to climbing on, and finally how to control the direction he wants it to go.

For this one time, however, you take the reins and let him sit behind you, hugging you a bit too tightly for your liking, but you allow it as you show him around the rest of your ranch.

He just likes the closeness fr and you.

By the time the day’s over, your horse got better acquainted with Ken and let him ride around for a little while before you gotta put it in the stable for the night.

Before he could worry about where he was gonna go, you tell him he can stay with you as long as he wants.

He’s so happy he just,,,,breaks down ugly crying into your arms.

Though he quickly apologizes, admitting he’s still getting used to crying freely and being more emotional and-

“It’s okay, Ken.” You reassure him. “We need more guys like that around here who ain’t afraid to shed a tear or two.”

“Th-Thanks...Barbie told me it’s an amazing feeling. And honestly..it kinda is.”

After that small heart-to-heart talk, he gifts you his horseshoe necklace as a sign of his appreciation, that dopey grin returning to his face when you take it and wear it right away.

Yeah, you’ve only met each other for a day and he’s smitten the moment you started treated him as an equal. You let him have his own room, bed, wardrobe, etc. (and in time he'll have his own horse too).

All you ask is that he helps you manage the ranch, but at this point he’s willing to do anything for you now.

Finally, he realizes this was his dream all along.

One that Barbieland couldn't provide, but that was alright.

Patriarchy is overrated, anyways. This was all he wanted.

[dark-fics-4-you]

hi queen 🤍 the way i squealed when i saw ur post PLS

ok but umm what if your tire went flat at night and dark!rafe happens to be driving by, kinda crossed after leaving a party super late but he stops and helps you…. but plans to make you pay him back one way or another right there on the side of the road even tho you thought it was just a nice stranger doing a favor…..aldfjidoendkd

dw im seeking out help rn.

it’s okay i need to seek out help for writing this the way i did. This fic alone is putting feminism back 50 years okay sorryyyyy enjoy

Equal Exchange

Warnings: noncon, smut, reader gets assaulted by a stranger, degradation, rough sex, implied drug use, misogyny, slut shaming

“Fuck!” You hissed, slapping your steering wheel in frustration before flicking your hazard lights on.

Of all the times and places for a tire to pop, of course 1AM on a back road was just your luck.

You opened your door, examining your parking job before checking out your tires. Sure enough, the right hand rear tire had a gash in it, and was now considerably less full than the others.

With a groan, you retreated to your trunk, opening it and locating your spare. However, only then did you remember lending your jack and wrench to a friend and you cursed angrily.

How could you change the tire now?

As if on cue, the back of your car lit up as another car approached. You spun around, only to be momentarily blinded by the truck’s headlights, but you could hear the large vehicle slowing to a stop.

You nervously shifted your weight from one leg to the other as you watched the door of the truck open and a tall, blond man exited and walked closer to you.

“Engine trouble?” He calmly asked, blue eyes looking down at you kindly. The scent of weed hit your nose, and although you silently judged the guy for driving while high, you weren’t one to turn down help when it found you.

“No, my tire popped. I have a spare, but I don’t have the tools to fix it,” you sheepishly explained, crossing your arms around your chest when the cool wind made you shiver.

“Lucky I was in the area then.” He said with a friendly grin. “I’ve got a jack and a whole tool kit in my truck. I’m Rafe, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Thank you so much for the help Rafe, I really appreciate it!”

You watched as the blond got his kit and jack out, and then observed as he masterfully changed your tire. You didn’t miss the way he glanced over the stickers you had on the window there, a couple band ones and then a few feminist stickers that he stared at for just a little bit longer than you were comfortable with.

However, he was helping you out, and by the time your spare tire was on, you had almost forgotten about the way he looked at your stickers.

“Wow, I can’t thank you enough Rafe, you really saved my skin. I’m glad you were driving around here tonight when you were,” you politely smiled up at him, genuinely grateful for him coming to your aid.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” His eyes lingered on yours but he made no movements to go back to his truck, instead taking a step towards you.

You backed up nervously, why was he coming closer to you rather than going back to his car? It was well past midnight and maybe your paranoia was getting the better of you, but you suddenly really wanted to leave.

“Well, it’s late so I better get home,” you started to turn away from him, but his hand flew out and clamped down on your wrist.

You whipped around to face him, crying out and wincing at the painful way his fingers were digging into your skin.

“What are you-?”

“You just said I saved your skin, didn’t you?” There was an icy edge in his voice, and Rafe pulled you closer to him, chin ticking as he looked down at you in disapproval. “I mean, if it weren’t for me you’d be stranded all alone out here for god knows how long.”

“I-I know, I said thank you, Rafe, now please just let me go!”

“What if I didn’t want to, hm? Are you going to make me?” He chuckled when your face dropped, enjoying watching the severity of the situation he had placed you in dawn on you.

“I mean, don’t you think you could repay me for sticking my neck out for a dumb bitch like you?” He held you in place with one hand, allowing the other to snake around your throat.

Your eyes widened and you thrashed against him when he clamped down around the tender skin, choking you hard.

With all of your power, you aimed your knee in between his legs, missing his crotch, but still catching him off guard enough to get him to release you.

You screamed as you pulled away from him, hoping that someone else might hear you and come to your rescue.

Stretching your fingers out to reach for the handle of the door, you had almost grabbed it when Rafe’s large arms encircled your waist, tearing you away from the door.

You were no match against his strength and he easily pushed you back before getting behind you and shoving you as he bent you over the hood of your car.

You yelped when your hips painfully dug into the metal in a way you were sure would leave bruises.

His large hands pawed at your clothes, and you hopelessly struggled in his arms. When he ripped your shorts and panties down in one movement, dread gripped your heart. You felt dizzy with fear.

Before you could even register the chill of the night air, Rafe roughly slammed your head against the hood of your car, holding it there and chuckling at your terror before hissing into your ear as he undid his shorts with one hand, “I’ve never understood girls like you. I mean, you have those dumbass girl power stickers all over your car but you can’t even change a tire by yourself. And I bet you learned that little move after mommy signed you up for a self defense course, huh? You can take all the classes in the world, but you never really stood a chance against me, sweetheart. I mean, you are so fucking stupid it’s actually adorable.”

His cruel words brought a burning pink tinge of shame to your cheeks, tears beginning to pool in your eyes.

When you felt the tip of his cock brush against your slit, you tried to move again to get away, but you were pinned down by his rough hold on your skull.

“Uh uh, Y/N,” your name sounded all wrong on his tongue, and the smug overfamiliarity from this stranger who was now assaulting you made your stomach turn in disgust. You froze when he pressed the head against your slit again, this time you were slick enough for him to slowly press the tip past your lips and into your warm cunt.

“You’re gonna stay still if you don’t want to get hurt,” his sick laugh barely reached your ears, as your focus was locked on the building pressure between your legs as Rafe pushed himself into you, painfully stretching you out inch by inch.

You whimpered as he sheathed himself inside you, trembling with adrenaline and fear underneath him. He was big, too big, and you clenched around him when he tilted his hips back before snapping them against your ass.

“Fuck, Y/N, I thought I wasn’t gonna get any tonight after that party turned out to be so lame but shit-” he groaned before slowly starting to push his cock in and out of your heat.

“I guess I got lucky after all,” his gruff voice sent shivers down your spine and your tears only made you feel worse. Each stroke of his length was agonizing.

You could barely adjust to the feel of his thick cock dragging along your walls, it felt like he was going to split you open. The pressure between your legs had you gasping and crying out in a confusing mixture of pain and pleasure.

“God you’re squeezing me so fucking tight,” he groaned. “I knew you’d be worth stopping for.”

Rafe was rutting into you faster now, enjoying the way you fearfully looked up at him through teary eyes as he took advantage of you.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were enjoying this, Y/N.” His taunting voice was punctuated by his sharp thrusts, each one rocking your body. “Why else would you be moaning like such a fucking slut?”