#and walk away with a couple hundred after the fight if he's got one of the less shady agents or promoters

[harrypotterfuryroad]

professional boxers start showing parkinson's-like symptoms really early (like age 19 with only two or three pro fights on their record) with really clear brain injury so it's not like you even need that much head trauma before it becomes life-altering, and these guys were trained to expect that level of force

now imagine training around something completely different and having to deal with that

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be. 

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant. 

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace. 

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you. 

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?” 

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry 

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read. 

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once. 

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now. 

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time. 

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door. 

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie. 

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches. 

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door. 

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes. 

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

[obx-paradise]

How Did I Get Here?

Summary: JJ couldn't imagine a life without his girl by his side

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Pogue!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Spoilers for season 4 part 2, fluff, not proofread, and that's all I can think of

a/n: Inspired by a post by @adrienneleclerc I hope I did it justice

~~~

“Mom, I’m going out!” Jackson yelled across the house to his mother in the kitchen preparing a snack.

He was going to meet up with Rafe and Topper at Rafe’s house. The 3 of them have been a trio since they were young. Although he doesn’t always agree with what they say or how they act, they’ve always stuck by him so he continues to do the same.

“Okay, sweety! Come say bye properly!”

Rolling his eyes, Jackson stepped away from the door and made his way to the kitchen. Jackson considered his mother his hero. His dad had left before he was born so it was just him, his mom, and his grandpa. 

Walking into the kitchen he found his mother. “Bye, Mom”

She turned around to face her son with a warm smile on her face, one that always made Jackson feel safe. Walking towards him, she wrapped her arms around him, “Bye, honey. When will you be back?”

“Umm… I don’t really know. Definitely before dinner, though” Jackson rushed his words knowing that Rafe and Topper would be annoyed with him for being late

“Alright, well have a good time… Be safe!” she yelled after him as he rushed out the door. 

~~~

As Jackson arrived at Rafe’s house, he let himself in and made his way to the living room.

“Hey, guys” Jackson found Rafe and Topper sitting around the coffee table with drinks around them.

“Hey, man. You’re late.”

“Yeah, I know. I didn't realize the time. Anyway, are y’all ready to go?” Jackson questioned knowing that they had plans to go out on The Druthers.

“Yeah, let's go”

The three of them made their way outside, all the way out to the dock before realizing that there was maintenance being done on it. 

“Yo, who’s that?” Jackson asked

“Some pogue my dad hired to take care of the boat. John B Routledge.”

Jackson has heard that name before. That’s the guy whose dad went missing months ago. Everyone knew about it, about him, but he’d never talked to him before.

“Hey, you wanna have some fun?” Rafe asked with a smirk on his face, looking at Topper on his left and Jackson on his right

“Fuck yeah”

“Nah man,”

Topper and Jackson spoke at the same time.

“C’mon let’s leave him be,” he said, trying to get them to leave the pogue alone

“Whatever,” the pair said while walking back inside, Jackson following them

~~~

It was a couple of days later when Jackson caught wind of a boneyard party that was happening that night. He wanted to go so he (obviously) told Rafe and Topper. Rafe turned him down not wanting to “party with the pogues” but Topper was all for it.

They got to the party at around 8 p.m. just as the sun had set. Jackson had gone to hundreds of parties just like this one, yet he felt something different with this one. 

It was late into the night when Jackson and Topper went to get more drinks. On the way to the keg, Topper bumped into a girl which caused her to spill her beer all over him.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed

Topper wasn’t one to accept apologies easily, especially from a pogue, “Ugh! What is wrong with you?! This shit was expensive!”

She looked up at Topper and then to Jackon who was standing next to him. “Look, I said I was sorry. There’s not much else I can do for you.”

Despite the situation, Jackson couldn’t help but feel like he’d seen her before. Possibly around the island but still.

“Stupid pogues! Always ruining everything!” Topper spat out

The whole scene caught the attention of people around them. 

“Hey, back off man!” John B ran to defend his friend, pushing Topper back by his shoulders

After that things escalated quickly. John B and Topper went at it,  fighting and eventually ending up in the sand. Jackson tried to de-escalate the situation and eventually managed to pry Topper off of the poor pogue. “C’mon, man let’s go”

“Really Jackson? What? They’re just gonna get away with it? No! I don’t know if you forgot but you’re a kook! You were born a kook, and you’ll die a kook! So, whose side are you on?”

Jackson looked around, hating having all the attention on him. Already knowing his answer, he walked over and stood by John B and the mystery girl who had spilled her drink. He was just trying to do the right thing like his mother always taught him to.

Topper scoffed and stormed off, Jackson’s actions giving him his answer. With him gone, John B and the girl went to thank Jackson. John B’s thank you is much shorter than hers.

“Thank you so much,” she engulfed him in a tight hug

“Yeah, no problem. I know it’s not an excuse but he’s really drunk,” he said hesitantly wrapping his arms around her. Again, he got this weird feeling around her. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Oh,” she pulled away from him, “Sorry, it's y/n. You’re JJ, right?”

“Umm… no I’m Jackson,” he said confused. Looking around he saw that everything around him was faded. All he could see was her. Y/n.

“Yeah, JJ. That’s what I said.”

Jackson couldn’t help but wonder “What is going on?”

“No… see– I don’t think you’re hearing me correctly. It’s Jackson.”

“JJ,”

“No…”

“JJ,”

~~~

“JJ! Baby wake up!”

JJ shot up with a loud gasp. He looked around and saw all his friends (plus Rafe) gathered around him but more specifically, Y/n. His girlfriend. 

“What happened?”

Y/n had tears of joy in her eyes, she was just relieved he was okay. “That son of a bitch Groff stabbed you. I managed to get you somewhere safe before anything bad happened but you still passed out. How do you feel?”

“I’m ok. Better now that I’m with you again…” He looked around at all his friends with a tired yet playful smile on his face, “...and you guys too, I guess”

They all laughed and spent time together before the sunset, they had to start a fire. They sat around the fire sharing stories, anything to lighten the mood after the day they had. 

“Okay so get this. I had a dream while I was out. And you were there, and you were there, and you were there, you weren’t there… it was really weird.” He said while pointing his finger at whoever he was directing his words to.

“...Y’all know how Groff is my real dad?” he spoke so calmly, almost lightheartedly as if that same man hadn’t almost killed him earlier. “Well, I dreamt that I had grown up as a kook. Went to the kook academy, had a nice house, Rafe and I were friends… eww. Anyways, I realized I would’ve hated growing up like that. Even though I’ve had a tough time growing up I wouldn’t trade it for anything because it gave me you guys. My real family.”

As he finished his rant, everyone fell silent. The first one to speak up was Pope. “That was really deep, man.” The group burst out in laughter. The atmosphere felt light and happy for once.

Quietly, as everyone went back to their conversations, JJ turned to you and whispered, “You wanna know one more reason I would’ve hated being a kook?”

“Sure,” 

“I would’ve never met you,” he spoke with a small smile on his lips

You let out a small playful gasp, “Me? Wait, you don’t… love me, do you?”

“Maybe a little”

[mixingandmelting]

Hello! I was wondering if you'd quite something based on the bat boys (or just Jason) reaction to realizing they liked having a normal life?

Like they go to visit the readers' family for Xmas, but their family left without letting them know, so they had the whole house to themselves, so they got to play house. It was in a whole other state, so no needing to be vigilantes. Just them with their s/o getting ready for Christmas, being shown around and just living a normal life for a few weeks.

A/N: Hope you don't mind me not writing about Duke and Damian since they're both minors so legally speaking they can't really travel out-of-state alone. Plus to be real, I highly doubt Batman would want to leave Damian unsupervised considering what happens when he's alone 😔

Dick:

His whole life he was anything but normal, being raised in a circus and now, fighting crimes 24/7. Excitement, action, danger, and adventures are what defines him and how he had always dreamt of how his life would go on. But here he is, tasting “normal” for the first time in his life by spending the holiday with you in the house you were raised in. Snowball fights and building snowmen delays the process of clearing the snow. Not to forget the snow angels that are made once he playfully tackles you down into the snow after you manage to get more on him than yourself. Putting up the lights and decoration both inside and outside of the house was more fun than the times he helped out at the Wayne manor, while finding out shopping for anything during the holiday season is a battle of its own. Adding that to the daily routine that’s usually gone through on his days off every day,  it’s… quiet and peaceful. He doesn’t wake up to sirens or violence. He’s not worried about another mission, instead figuring out how he’ll get your present under the tree without getting caught. You greeting him at the door, placing a kiss on his cheeks that are slightly bitten from frost when it’s decided he’s moving the snow on his own makes him so fuzzy, he starts calling you honey over babe. The most mind boggling about this? He doesn't mind it. It’s hard to accept that he actually likes “normal”. He’s confused over liking a concept that’s completely foreign to him and with his personality, he won’t last long with living with “normal” forever. The happy couple/marriage vibe though? He’s on board and digs it, one-hundred percent. Especially in a house filled with childhood memories, it’s giving him ideas and changing what he perhaps would want in the future in ways he wouldn’t think of back then.

Jason:

Considering his childhood and how he went through the whole reincarnation cycle of dying and then reviving, it’s a desire he had as a kid but gave up right away. He didn’t even fathom that a day would come where he would experience what it would be like to be normal. Walking around and staying in the typical home most average people live in made him tense the first three days, even more so knowing this was where you lived since a child. Moving snow with you becomes his favorite pastime, where you’d distract from getting the job done and have him chase after you from the snowball that hits his back. Or bringing out steaming hot chocolate so his nose and hands would stop feeling as if they’re ready to fall off from the cold after cleaning up and helping you build a snow fort of all things. His hands are frequently on your waist from holding you up to string the lights and hang the decorations after you frown from his “aesthetic” way of placing them, pushing him to move aside so you could show how a real pro does it. It’s also his first time struggling to find time to get a present behind your back from being with you all the time. Eating meals together, taking walks together around the neighborhood and city, acting as bodyguard during grocery and Christmas shopping, spending time together as a couple in general in a house that’s warm, cozy, and peaceful as Jason Todd is a first. Not as Robin once dead and revived or Red Hood, the violent outlaw.  It’s a wish once buried in his heart on top of another where he’s spending time with you that comes true before the holiday. He’s emotional from being so happy, he doesn’t think of anything else other than wanting to live like this for the rest of his life.

Tim:

Contrary to the stereotypes depicted by the media, rich kids don’t spend time with their family; it's usually spent with their nanny as their parents leave them for long periods of time in a house too large for two people. Sure over the years he has healed with his friends and a new family. But it feels like a dream come true with you. He’s laughing and enjoying the soft fluffiness of white that gets all over him, freezing his nose and hands when he tries to clear the snow. He gets into it with you over how the lights and decorations should be placed inside and outside the house when you mentioned you want to outdo your neighbors, a set of blueprints and sketches drawn while debating that rainbow lights were better than the flickering, white ones. To much of his chagrin, he’s fumbling with all the things you toss at him when he helps you shop, him being in charge of the shopping cart as he stays in-line as you grab and bring back what’s needed in the store. Not that he’s complaining, his face suddenly tinted in red when you come back and slip your hand between his hand and the handle during the wait for the next opened cashier. Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t struggle with getting you a Christmas present and placing it under the tree. He had been keeping tabs since the day after Valentine’s Day on the things you’ve been looking at while relying on your habits he memorized to time things perfectly. Similar to Jason, he, too, wanted to live normally like any other person. Him getting to do that by prepping for the holiday with you heals the child in him, making him content and wishing the time the two of you currently have lasts forever.

[allthegothihopgirls]

thinking about "a mediation on railroading" where tim's making his way across the country back to gotham alone after, circumstances. and out of nowhere he stumbles upon jason, hundreds of miles away from home.

and it's got me thinking about the statistical improbability of that entire scenario, but also how it'd be funny if that's just the type of thing that happens between the batkids on a regular basis.

like they don't always have to be halfway across the country, or in the most dire of situations, but they always find each other when they shouldn't be.

one of the kids is losing a fight, captured, or left for dead? you can bet it's going to be a sibling that finds them.

damian's dealing with jerks from school, on a field trip a couple of towns over. it just so happens jason's there on work, in full red hood get up, and he sees the kids. he has a word with them, no one knows what he said, but the kids quietly apologise to damian and stop bothering him.

tim's been kicked out of his house again, and finds a cafe to sit in while his dad cools off, and it's dick who coincidentally walks in to the same cafe on his lunch break, and convinces tim to tag along with him on the rest of his work day, and encourages him to stay at wayne manor for the night.

there's also the instances of jason, minding his own business, patrolling streets, or doing mundane things like grocery shopping. but whatever it is, he's lucky to have one outing without one of his siblings approaching him out of nowhere. (whether or not some of them do it on purpose is up for debate)

anyways, found family or whatever the people say

[dilfl0v3rss]

So BOOM the readers at a party. She a little tipsy and some girl bump into her. The reader like oh bitches can’t say excuse me. Ony trying to de- escalate the situation. Also sorry if your ask are closed. I couldn’t find anything on your page to tell me if they are.

when it came to parties ony picked and chose when he would and wouldn’t agree with you going, unless he was going himself. it wasn’t very often when your boyfriend would go to parties, but since he successfully made a big drop the previous night he thought it’d be nice to go out and enjoy himself at a party as a regular nigga and not a drug dealer.

“lemme tell you sum” his deep voice rang in your diamond stud covered ears. before he could let you out of the car, ony always made sure to let you know what it was before letting you go inside with him. “you know the rules, when you go to the bathroom give me your cup. don’t be drinking too much, and act like you got a head on those pretty shoulders, aight?” you nodded your head before leaning over the center console and giving him a sloppy kiss.

it didn’t take thirty minutes before sasha had you taking shot after shot. the slight buzz from the alcohol making your words a little slurred as you sung. “sex wit me s’amazinggggg!” you yelled along to rihanna, dancing all over sasha to the beat of the song. of course she didn’t stop you, but once ony saw you he knew it was time to take that cup away. “hol on man, i gotta go get my baby” he mumbled, shaking his head as he made his way to the middle of the floor.

ony was having a really good night, the weight of working finally lifted off his shoulders as he smiled while walking towards you. as your eyes met his you squealed, excitedly skipping towards him before continuing your dance on him. “hey pretty girl. how much you had t’drink?” you were still sober to the point where you knew you had three shots and a couple sips of jungle juice, smiling as you went on your tippy toes for a quick kiss. “not t’much i promise daddy”

ony smiled at the pet name, knowing your decorum was disintegrating along with your sobriety. “that’s good let me know when-” “i gotta pee papa!” you whisper yelled, but ony heard you, giving you a soft smile before taking your hand and walking towards the bathroom. you didn’t even take three steps before your hand was yanked from his as some random bitch bumped into you. ony thought nothing of it, reconnecting his hand with yours before trying to continue his journey.

“bitches is mute now? cant say excuse me?” your giggly attitude instantly replaced with anger as you stared the girl down. she whipped her head around, getting ready to say something smart. “who the fuck you calling a bitch?” ony knew you weren’t a girl who liked to argue so as soon as he saw you moving your bag off your shoulder he butted in. “unt uhh unt uhh we not doing that” he said. before you could handle your business, your movements were stopped by his tattooed arm on your waist.

“yeaa put that one on a leash” the girl giggled as she watched you try to move his arm so you can really show her what’s good. ony knew how you got when you were tipsy and was more than a hundred percent sure you could whoop this girl’s ass, but he was always against you fighting. but though that is true, he didn’t play about how people talked to or about you either. “man watch your mouth and go on somewhere. m’tryna keep her from fucking you up and you making it hard for me to want to.”

“and you, calm your little ass down for i take you to the bathroom for sum else” his deep voice made your eyes snap up towards his. stern look making your stomach get butterflies, but you feigned indifference. you rolled your eyes and continued your journey to the bathroom, mumbling something along the lines of “you lucky bitch” as you turned around.

as soon as you got to the bathroom he turned your body towards his, hand on your ass while he gave you a stern look. your eyes widened as you looked up at your now mildly pissed off boyfriend. “what i say in the car huh? you not being good ma.” he said softly. ony knew you can get a little emotional when you drank so he made sure to be as delicate as possible right now.

a pout formed on your face, eyes getting a little watery from the affects of the alcohol. like he figured, your emotions were all over the place. “s-she bumbed int’me firsttt” ony already knew you were getting ready to cry so he chose not to push the subject any further, giving you a few short pecks “sh sh sh s’okay baby i’m not mad at you. gon head and pee so you can go have fun okay?” he let you go to handle you business, sighing in relief when he seen your smile grow back on your face. he hated when you cried.

after you finished and washed your hands you went to go open the door, but ony stopped you, placing his tattooed hand on top of yours before speaking lowly to you. “you gon be good when you go back out there right? don’t wanna have to embarrass you” his words traveled straight to your panties, making you quickly nod your head as a reply. “speak up mama. you gon be good?” he turned your body around, tilting your chin up so he could see your eyes clearly. “i’ll be good” a smirk crept onto his face, gold grills peeking at you before he left a light kiss on your lips. free hand gripping your ass as he spoke.

“you better”

[allisie]

Hi, I love your writing ❤️

could I request something for Nate? like he and the reader are fighting and she gets hurt because he scared her and then he apologize? thank you 🥰

Simply Us

nate jacobs x reader

Euphoria Masterlist

NB // for some reason, when asked to write kinda angst stuff, I almost never follow script.

⚠️ warning ⚠️: Nate being a closer representation of his tv counter part, talk of insecurities, nate choking reader,

"Your fucking him aren't you. You trap me into this picture-perfect relationship and then go open your legs behind my back. Huh," Nate whispers into my ear. I had just gotten back from hanging out with Fez all evening at the convenience store.

"Jacobs what the fuck are you talking about," I ask.

"I should have known you're just like her, just repackaged. At least she looked the part of my perfect girl. At least she had the decency to do that much work in the relationship," Nate continued, his voice getting louder. Nate put his hands on the counter in front of me, effectively trapping me as he pushed his body onto mine.

"Why are you saying this? I didn't do shit. What are you talking about? I love you and you alone," you whisper, turning to face him. Placing your water on the counter.

"Did I say shit about love....... and you should be the first to know you don't need love to fuck someone. How can I ever trust you again" Nate moved his hands to my head.

"That's the thing with relationships, nate. You have to trust the other person in the relationship," I reply, my eyes searching his face for any signs of him believing my words.

"And have I ever, tested your trust. Tell me, when have I ever made you question my love for you," He asks, his hands moving to my neck. His eyes stared into mine.

"First month into dating, you still left flowers in Maddy's locker every day. Drove her to school, stayed at her house when you got wasted drunk," I state without a second of hesitation. Nate made me feel second to Maddie early in our relationship, and I would have left if it wasn't for the night he realised that I wouldn't stay if he didn't stop.

"Shut the fuck up," Nate shouts, "That was forever ago."

"Two hundred and seventy-nine days. You have no idea what it feels like being in a relationship with someone who loves someone else, but what else would I expect from THE NATE JACOBS, STAR QUARTERBACK, you will never have to feel how I felt," I shouted back.

"Shut the fuck up, you don't know what your talking about, you don't know me," Nate replied, his grip around my neck tightening.

"But I do, Nate. I have loved you since I was ten. Before Maddy, before you decided to become the buffest guy in the grade, I loved you when no one knew who you were in school. Then it all changed in one summer," I reply softly, my eyes filled with tears and my hands around his wrists.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT UP!! SHUT UP! YOU KNOW NOTHING!!" Nate shouts, his face turning red and his grip on my throat increasing.

"THEN TELL ME! OR AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH!! MAYBE I SHOULD GO GET MADDY!" I shout back before reaching up and slapping Nate across his face. Nate grip loosens around my neck as he tales a step back, and I move, putting more distance between us.

"I swear to god, I will kill you," Nate states after regaining his bearings. His eyes locked onto me.

"Do your worse. Just know that I love you until my last breath," I respond, tears falling down my face.

It was a couple of hours before we could look each other in the face. My neck had started to bruise in the shape of Nate's hand, and his face was scratched from my nails. I hid away in his bedroom while he sat in his bathroom. Walking out of his bathroom, Nate sees me sitting on his bed, my clothes exchanged for one of his shirts, and my hair pulled out of my face.

"Your hurt," Nate whispers.

"It doesn't matter, are you okay. Did I hurt you," I respond as I start to get out of bed.

"Yeah, I am fine. Let me take a look at you," Nate states, making his way over to me before I could even put my foot on the ground. He gently moves my head so he can see my bruising neck, "That looks serious. It's starting to bruise badly."

"I'll just cover it up. It's fine. You didn't mean it," I whisper as I wrap my arms around his neck.

"Stop justifying that shit. You should be running from me. Why are you so calm right now?" He asks before I pull him down into a kiss.

"I love you," I whisper again his lips.

"Your fucking crazy, you know that right,"

"Isn't that why you love me tho," I say, pulling him into another kiss.

"I am sorry," Nate whispers.

"I know," I whisper back.

[themissingnumbers]

WARNING: FLASHING/GLITCHING IMAGE UNDER THE CUT. This also contains descriptions of gore and body horror.

[ @pkmn-monochrome - Previously... ]

Red narrows his eyes as he stares down at Cody, shutting up and listening as they explain. The corners of his lips twitch as they finish, the shadow cast over his eyes falling ever so slightly heavier.

"... So, that's how it is, hm?"

"Barely... any different..."

"... Exactly what I..."

"..."

"I've gotta say, you've really got a way with words! You're so articulate when you're scared, Cody."

He snickers to himself, hopping off the grave and pacing around, looking between the other and the Ghosts.

"Observant, too~! You're right, I really couldn't be bothered to care what you think of me. I'm not exactly here to make friends. I'm sure that'd the last thing you'd want, anyways! See, I'm just here to satiate some curiosity."

He leans in front of Blastoise, tilting his head.

"I would like to formally apologize to the oversized Sobble-in-a-shell for my language. I'm not exactly used to being around others... Twenty-six years of imprisonment wouldn't really teach a guy to have a filter, heh."

He waves a hand nonchalantly, completing the circle.

"And as for your marketable figurine of a rat, well... I'm not interested in being a snotty kid forever. Unfortunately, I don't need any hacking done to screw up my game badly enough to change some things around.

But, hey... I'm not here to make chit-chat with a couple of one-note monsters. It's all about you, the most REAL one in this room. Cody, Cody, Cody, star of the show~! Let's get back to the point. I know you don't exactly think highly of... things like me. What was it you told that one poor girl- 'You've had more than a decade to get over yourself,' right?"

He throws his head back, cackling as if the old remark is the funniest thing he's heard in his life.

"I meant it when I said that I don't CARE. But I AM nosy, and your vitriol towards REDs in particular is just so interesting... Even seein' the face clearly strikes a nerve. So honestly, I'd LOVE to hear EXACTLY what you're thinking..."

"If only you were willing to spit out any fighting words, that is! But you've been so much more polite than I expected, after all the reading I've done..."

He passes by in front of the other, looking off into the distance.

In that moment- a moment of passing footsteps, of the blink of an eye, of a lack of care... something heavy fills the air.

A damning presence looks down on Cody with a dozen eyes, countless mouths, gnashing teeth and twitching claws, two hundred and fifty-five whispering voices. It's a disgusting and shambling creature, a sick and unholy patchwork of amalgamated hearts and yellowed blood, wrapped up in tattered flesh and backwards fur, mismatched feathers and scales and blubber and skin. Writhing, wheezing, bleeding, rotting, every misplaced piece existing out of sync.

Something impossible. Unknowable. Invalid.

The feeling it imposes upon them is suffocating. Like not breathing for years, like something vile filling their lungs, a sickness that is rising, thrashing, tearing, desperate for a taste of "fresh meat" if one could even call a dead trainer that anymore.

"It almost seems like there's something you're worried about," the voices from within it hiss, layered countless times under the casual and teasing tone of Red's own that is lost under the madness...

... Yet the instant the words spill from his lips, that awful sensation is gone as quickly as it arrived. Everything is as it should be. Despite how intense it was... It was little more than two seconds of some sick kind of illusion.

Was it even real? Was that pain all false? Red hasn't lifted a finger, no less even looked Cody's way.

It's as if nothing even happened.

"I wonder, I wonder, what it could be~?" the man babbles on as he walks away, feigning ignorance- because he must be, he must be screwing around with them at this point, right? How could he NOT be?

And now he's laughing- giggling to himself under his breath, like this whole ordeal is some joke that only he's in on.

"After all, I'm just some harmless little video game character. I'm not even real, right?" he chides, "Certainly nothing like one of your big bad players who could crush your shoddy little cartridge cause you decided to be a little bi..."

He trails off, managing to catch himself.

"... Decided to misbehave. What, you don't think I hold any real power over this place, do you~? I can't cause..."

"... Permanent damage."

He slows to a stop several paces away from the monochromatic trainer, spinning on his heel to look at them with a smile that could be described as warm, but...

From heart, to flesh, to grin- there's not a single warm thing about this man in this moment. Only proven further by a final remark, laced with a threatening kind of curiosity.

"So would you like to stop trying to play nice and tell me what you really think of me... Or are you gonna let me get bored?"

[viking-goat-420]

Fandom: X-men

Paring: Logan/reader

Rating:Smut

Title:I Love You

Summary: After getting into a fight with Logan and he walks out going after Jean you leave and Logan comes find you

A/N: I live!! Omg it's been forever I'm so for the super long wait on this! I promise the victor one is also in the works. I will be having my requests open again. Also please leave feedback it helps me alot

You knew by the way Logan had stormed out of the cabin at the back of the school where you and Logan lived and taught. Every couple has their fights but this time was different. You knew he loved you but you couldn't do it anymore you were losing him to her.

Biting your lip you try to stop the tears from falling. You had tried to explain how you felt, and that led to a huge fight, leaving you here now trying not to break down. Logan had made his choice and now you had no other one but to leave. You threw as much as you could in a bag, grabbed your keys, headed to your (y/f/c), and drove off, leaving the cabin and the man you loved.

You had kept on the move ever since, never staying in one place too long. By now, months had passed when you had rented a cabin to hold up in for the winter, and by the looks of things, It's gonna be a rough one. You groan as your back pops as you step out of the front door; the woods and bright sun greet you, and you breathe in deeply. Your body freezes as you catch his scent in the crisp air, making your stomach sink.

Having no other choice you set out for your hunt. Breaks between storms would become almost non-existent until winter was over so now was the perfect time to catch a few extra things for the standing meat freezer. Heading out, you go to your favorite spot to hunt but find the clearing is empty, so you close your eyes and focus and find that the only heartbeat is yours and his.

“Let's get this over with so you can leave, and I can get back to my hunt,” you yell out, knowing he could hear you just fine, and you could smell him as he got closer. You had tried so hard to ignore him while you tried to hunt, but it was anything but easy.

“You finally stop running? Why here?” He asks, his voice rough and strong, making you sigh at his tone, and you fight back a bitter laugh.

“Was never running Logan that was always your thing and we both know you lost your old memories so if you can't remember this place then we have nothing to talk about” you snap feeling hurt and your heart breaks all over again as you turn towards him never making eye contact as you pass by him. Only Logan is faster and grabs your arm stopping you from walking away from him.

“You're the one who packed your shit and left without a word princess, not me!” He growls and you fight the tears at the nickname, his nickname for you. You refused to let your emotions win and you became angry.

“Don't call me that! Don't fucking act like you care,” you snarl, and he flinches back like you had punched him. Without giving him time to say anything, you rush off into the woods and safely back into your cabin, and Logan is hot on your heels and into your cabin.

“Of course, I care! Ya really think I would be tracking you this whole time if I didn't!?” he growls, grabbing your arm and turning you to face him, and you bare your fangs and growl. Logan looks at you and scoffs before he releases your arm.

“how would I know Logan? Jean has you wrapped so tight around her finger that I'm surprised you're here! I was tired of being your second choice!” You snap tears finally running down your face. Logan steps as close to you as possible without actually touching you, his scent clouding your mind but not enough to calm your anger.

“You're right, there was something, but I can't explain it, whatever it was, it's gone,” he says, his voice turning into a growl. He was frustrated. You look him in the eyes, you bite back a moan when Logan rubs his finger over his claiming mark he had done over a hundred years ago.

“Logan-” you try, but he cuts you with a sharp look. He grabs your hand and places it on the smaller bite mark you left on him, and you feel him shiver.

“This means something to me, baby; I bonded myself to you and you to me.” He growls huskily and you feel the effects he has on you as your body heats up. You bite your lip and add pressure to the mark making him groan and you shiver.

“Answer me this logan, what cabin are we in?” you ask softly looking up at him, his lips so close to yours. Logan gives you a dirty smirk, his sharp canine showing in the dim light, and he chuckles.

“This is the cabin I made you mine, where I made you cum so hard you squirted all over me for the first time,” he says, his voice taking that time he gets when he wants you, and you could smell his arousal. Without another word, you run your hands up his chest and lock behind his neck, where you play with the hair.

“I'm still mad at you, Logan, but you can spend the winter making it up to me.” You grin; that's all Logan needed to hear before his lips were on yours, pulling a moan from you at his touch; you had missed him.

You kiss him back just as passionately; your short claws run through his hair and down his chest, where you push his shirt and jacket off, leaving him in his white tank. You break the kiss as your hands reach the collar of his tank, the tips of your claws grazing his skin as you rip the tank down the middle, leaving him shirtless, and he growls. You smirk up at him as you push him to sit on the couch.

“C'mere, Darlin,” he says huskily, and you smirk as you start to strip down till you stand naked in front of him. You place your hands on his shoulders as you straddle him. Logan's hands move to your hips and you shiver at his touch hands on your skin. You smirk, grab his hands, and place them over the couch where the chains still hang from last time.

“Oh no baby not this time, this time you don't get to touch me, this time I'm gonna use you how I want and you get to watch only” You grin and lick your lips when he pulls on the chain making his abs and pecs flex with his movements and you lean down licking a strip up his neck to his ear biting the lobe.

“You're playing a dangerous game, princess; once I get outta these chains, you're gonna get it,” he growls, his pupils dilated with lust and desire. You pull away from his neck, your claws running down his chest lightly, and he groans at the feeling. You reach for his belt and undo it along with his pants.

“I'm counting on it now. I wanna taste your cock after I cum on it” You smirk at his groan as you start to kiss and bite down his chest and stomach, and he lifts his hips for you to free his cock.

You lick him from ball to tip before sucking the head in your mouth with a moan at his taste. You give his cock a good sloppy suck making it soaking wet for you as you straddle him. Logan groans as you slowly sink into him. You moan as he stretches you, and you lean down and kiss him, hitting his lower lip.

“Oh fuck, you feel so good, stretching me out like this,” you moan and slowly grind down where your is stimulated. Logan groans at the feeling of your hot wet cunt wrapping around him. He wanted to touch you badly, to taste you, to fuck you, but all he could do was watch as you used him.

“Fuck baby uses my cock; you look so good, sweetheart; when I get out of these, you're gonna get it,” he growls hotly, and you moan and shiver at his words. You knew Logan meant it too.

“Mm, Logan, who said I was letting you go tonight?” You smirk and lick his mate, Mark and his hips thrust up, making you cry out in pleasure at the feeling; your nails run down his chest, making him snarl. You knew very well what you were doing, and you also knew when he finally broke those chains, you were in for it.

“We both know this won't be enough for you princess. We both know you're a dirty little slut who loves it when I rail her tight pussy” he smirks up at you, and you slam down on him, taking him deeper. You both moan as you fuck yourself on his cock.

“Fuck I do I do. Fuck Logan, you feel so good,” you moan and lean down, nipping his mate Mark, and he snarls before the sound of the chains snaps, and you feel Logan's rough hands on your hips, and without no warning, he flips you both.

“You've had your fun, darlin, but it's my turn now,” he growls, and you pout, making Logan grin and lean down, kissing you deeply. Without warning, Logan pulls out and slams back in, making you cry out, and you reach for him, your claws in his shoulder as he fucks you hard and deep.

“Logan! Oh fuck!” You cry out as he hits the soft spot that makes you see stars. Logan snarls and slams into the spot over again making you tighten around him.

“Fuck princess cum for me, squirt for me like my dirty slut you are,” he growls, making you whine at his words. He knew what his mouth did to you, and you were so close.

*Fuck Logan please!” You moan out so close but are not able to reach your peak. Logan, without a second thought, your mate Mark pushes you over the edge, and your cum is hard, gushing out of you, soaking his cock and the couch.

“Ah fuck you look so good cumming for me! Fuck I'm gonna fill you fully,” he growls, his hurts getting sloppy the closer he gets to his speech.

“Logan, fill me up, Daddy. I wanna feel you leaking out of me,” you moan, and Logan snarls as he pins you to the couch and empties himself deep inside of you.

“Fuck, Darlin,” he pants as he kisses up your neck and reaches your lips. You sigh softly and kiss him back as you run your fingers through his damp hair.

“Maybe we should go to bed.” You grin as you feel him still hard inside of you, and he chuckles before he presses his forehead to yours.

“I love you, darling. I know I have a shit way of showing it, but I do,” he says softly, you smile up at him and stroke his face softly, and Logan leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand.

“I love you too Logan”

[specterllaw]

Y/n Specter - Mike Ross x Reader

summary: After Mike gets into a huge fight with y/n, he realizes he made his bed and must lie in it as y/n's older brother Harvey comes for revenge

Warnings: mentions of arguing, fist fighting

Two Weeks. Two weeks was how long Mike had been ignoring you. It wouldn't of hurt so bad if it weren't for the fact you saw him talking with Rachel every time you came in to have lunch with you older brother, Harvey. You two were close, but not close enough for him to really show feelings or affection towards you, and you were okay with that, he was a good listener and advice giver.

"I don't know what you want me to do! Y/n! It's all the damn time! I need to work!" Mike had screamed at you, you were shocked considering all you asked was if he was staying over at your place tonight or not. You took a gulp as tears welled up in your eyes watching Mike raise his eyebrows "Go." You took a step back as tears started to roll down your cheeks "I never thought when I met you, Sweet Mike Ross would turn into a newer more cruel version of Harvey" You whispered weakly backing away from his cubicle, before rushing back to your apartment, locking the door before going to bed where you'd stay for the next two weeks.

Harvey approached your apartment door, it had been almost two weeks since he last saw you for lunch and he was worried, nobody had seen you, not even Donna. He rolled his eyes at the thought of knocking and walked in "Y/n!" He called out into the dark apartment, he couldn't see anything. Feeling around in your apartment he found your curtains pulling them open to reveal the sunlight into your cluttered, messy bedroom. He turned around ready to continue his search before jumping nearly three feet off the ground followed by a high pitched squeal as he saw you now sitting up right on the bed. "Were you watching me the entire time!? Why didn't you answer me!? Why do you look like that!?" He screamed a hundred questions towards you. Harvey was worried, here his baby sister sat in a mess of her own clothes and blankets looking like a zombie. Your usual h/t hair was a complete mess, knots littered it everywhere, you had dark bags under your eyes, your skin was pale and you look like you hadn't seen the sun in days. "Harv..." You whispered looking at him, his face softened looking at you as he slowly walked to the side of your bed running a hand over your head trying to smooth your hair down. "I need my big brother Harv...not boss Harvey" You whispered quietly on the verge of tears "I'm here y/n/n" He whispered sitting next to you after clearing off a spot on the bed. "I've been seeing Mike Ross...Since he started at Pearson-Hardman...We got into a fight a couple weeks ago...now he's been talking to Rachel alot..I saw her car at his place when I went to see if we were okay.." You whispered taking in a shaky breath, Harvey huffed, he was pissed "You did the one thing I told you not to do!?" He asked loudly making you flinch and look at him before standing up hitting his chest "I quit! I quit! I want my brother back! Who would be there for me rather than yell at me for mistakes!" You whimpered trying to push him out of your room but he just hugged you "I'll handle Mike...Kids not gonna know what hit him..As for you..You're gonna shower...We're gonna get that hair fixed, get you back to the badass y/n I know, and then you and Donna will go for a girls day on me" He said resting his chin on your head, he lead you into your room then your bathroom before leaving you in there shutting the door on his way out.

After Harvey walked you out to the car with Donna, he was on his warpath, not stopping until he had Mike's head on a platter, metaphorically speaking of course. He stormed into his office after demanding Rachel send Mike to his office, he could tell by Rachel's face even she knew what was gonna happen was bad. Harvey watched as the little prick walked through the door, looking at him "Hey Harvey, I'm almost done convincing the Jesser's case on settling but Mrs. Jesser isn't wanting to-" Harvey cut Mike off "Cut the goddamn bullshit" He growled standing up glaring at Mike "What the fuck did you say to my sister?" Harvey snapped walking closer "I haven't done anything! My head's been in the case /You/ gave me for three weeks!" Mike argued back, Harvey grunted before taking a swing on Mike, feeling Harvey's fist connect with his jaw "I told you! Never to talk to Y/n Specter! I told you your first day. Shoot her down if you have to!" He yelled punching Mike every other word "But no! You had to take her out, wow her, then snap at her and treat her like she doesn't exist" He growled with such hatred he wanted to squeeze Mike's head until it popped "What!? I-I snapped at her yes after you threatened you'd fire me if I saw her any longer" Mike argued back before punching Harvey right on the nose. He staggered off of Mike leaning against his desk holding his nose as it started to pour blood, Mike could feel the blood seeping from his mouth, lips, under his eye, and his nose, and yet all he could think about was seeing you.

You didn't get home until around Eleven PM that night, you were startled by a Mike Ross sitting on your couch, a cold wash cloth draped over his face "Mike?..." You whispered, setting your bag down before taking a seat on the couch next to him, you slowly pulled the rag down gasping at his face. "Holy shit Mike" You whispered "Why didn't you go to a hospital?" You asked going to grab your first aid kit from the kitchen, when you got back you rushed to clean his wounds and bandage them. As you wiped his lip trying to get the last of the dried blood off you watched as he took in your appearance. "You told Harvey" He whispered looking at you, you sighed "i'm sorry..He was gonna find out.." You mumbled looking at him "Are we okay, Mike? You've been icing me out for days...what did I do?.." You whispered sadly, the relationship was perfect so why was it going down the drain right now? You felt his hand come up to cup your cheek, caressing his thumb over your cheekbone softly "Baby...You never did anything...Harvey..made this stupid threat...and I didn't want to risk never seeing you again even if it was just as friends in the office..so I backed off..but I realize I love you Y/n. I couldn't stop thinking about you" He ranted resting his forehead against yours, you sighed "So why were you always with Rachel?.." You whispered looking at him starting to lean away from his touch, remembering the betrayal you felt "I've talking to you through her.." He admitted looking down "So..all this time..thinking Rachel and I were actually talking about you..it was you talking about yourself?..I thought you were cheating asshole! You kept calling yourself the hottest man alive and so sweet you could eat and I thought it was Rachel!" You yelled slapping his chest, he laughed rolling his eyes hugging you tightly "I'm sorry! I was being honest! and I was trying to use like...girl power to make you forgive me..." He whispered, You giggled shaking your head pecking his lips repeatedly "You could use /your/ power to make me forgive you." You whispered grabbing his tie pulling him up to hover over you as you laid on the couch "Oh yea?" He whispered repeatedly as he pecked kisses all over your face and down your neck.

[grapejuicestyless]

Good Luck, Babe!

Harry Styles x Fem!reader

Summery: Harry could run around the world in search of a replacement to fill the void that you left, but he’s better off coming to terms with the fact that he’d have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.

I’m okay knowing I won’t ever get to call my future lover my high school sweetheart. It’s hard to stay committed to someone for decades as an adult, let alone at sixteen. But it pulls at my heart strings just to know little me would be so devastated knowing the boy who used to string up fairy lights and scribble on big bubbles letters on poster boards for our prom decided I was too boring for his massive life and left once the glitter from all the glamour of fame got in his eyes.

It’s funny to think about, ten years thrown away forever because my stable life wasn’t worth living when he could offer me anything I could ever dream of. God forbid I want to settle down with some little ones to teach nothing but love in a world where everyone can only ever teach their children hate. God forbid I wanted that with him.

No, my dreams were stupid compared to those of his own. Children mean nothing to him if he’s not taking home another award for his excellence. Settling down is a laughable dream, how could I expect him to ever even try when it seemed like with every single chance to start trying he was at a new peak in his career.

When I left him, he didn’t even look sad. Not even when I turned to face him as I walked out of our front door with all my things stuffed in a bag slung over my arm. He looked distant, sure, but not sad and that made me sad, for me but mainly for him.

Three years ago if I had even shown signs of unhappiness he would have stopped the world to fix our issues, ironed it all out real nice to make sure that I never felt that feeling again. Now I could beg on my knees pleading for him to hear me and my cries would fall on deaf ears.

But I don’t regret leaving him in the end. It hurt at first, leaving behind all I ever knew, letting him go after I wasted away all my youth on him, but life goes on and my heart would heal the longer we were apart.

Occasionally he would reach out, letters with the same swooping letters that I recognized as his own handwriting, the same writing that once wrote me love letters, all addressed to me with the hopes of meeting up.

But I knew myself better than that, I knew Harry better than that. If I met him, even only for coffee our night would end with me back in his arms and his head between my legs. We weren’t ever meant to split, but then again no one who’s ever felt the same kind of love like young kids is ever made to walk away from something so sweet.

I was better for it, between each letter there was a new girl. A model who resembled me in the most vague ways. I wondered all the time if he ever accidentally called any of them my name. If he chose them with my eye color so when he looked into their eyes he could see mine for just a second. It felt like each week he was caught leaving some bar with some other girl, someone else’s lipstick staining his jaw.

I got over him slowly, never fully, but enough to love again. I had room to give once more and enough strength left to keep fighting for the love I deserved. I earned the right to be able to hold someone who would call me “baby” with pride, without the slightest hesitation or embarrassment.

Harry could kiss a hundred girls and boys in bars, drink away his twenties and sing to his fans across the world, and I would be here chasing my own dreams. After all, he always needed the spotlight, he lived for it. All I needed was a little love, and somehow in his search for glory, he lost any kind of that he had and I had found it again.

I saw Harry a couple years later, the small bar in Brooklyn with the good music and sweaty bodies. He looked good, he always did. His hair looked a little grey and I must admit, I almost drooled, but looks were the only attraction I would ever feel for him. Emotionally, I was cut off, even when he leaned up close and pressed me into a bone crushing hug.

With a cool smile on his face he asked me confidently what I was doing here and how I’d been. I told him a friend of a friend had invited me along to come celebrate an old friend’s birthday, that I didn’t really want to drink tonight and was just trying to enjoy myself.

I could see his hesitation when an arm slung itself over my shoulders, curly brown hair tickling my cheek and a kind smile flashing towards him and somehow in our conversation, I forgot the most important update in my life, one I’d make sure he’d never forget.

“Who’s this?” He asked kindly, ready to introduce himself even though we were all well aware everyone in the room knew him by name.

“Oh, Harry, how rude of me!” I laughed at the time, but I’m still not sure if he could hear it over the music. I hope he did, because it would have been the last time he would hear it.

“Harry, this is my girlfriend.”

[werezmastarbucks]

choke

i really like this gif, so i'm gonna use it everywhere

masterlist

word count: 1453

warnings: blood

You stood dumbfounded at the window, watching Chibs get up onto his feet and run his hands through his slick hair.

"Dead?" you uttered, to hear yourself say it.

"Bled out", he snapped back, pleasantly busy. "You got old sheets?"

"Yes, lots of them".

"Come help me then".

A minute later you were turning Ned's body onto its side, and you were fighting violent convulsions through it. You wanted either to throw up, or to black out, or to scream, and wasn't sure exactly why.

"I've seen dead bodies several times, but never... this", you puffed, keeping your throat closed not to let anything fall out. Chibs noticed your borderline panic and pushed you away lightly, tugging at his hands.

"This your first kill?"

"You sound like it's normal".

"Relatively", he said peacefully. You instantly got reminded of their different lives, Jax and him, and others in their bikers club or whatever it is. It's not like they fix bikes and listen to rock music all day long. You knew what gangs do.

"Heavy bloke", he commented, rolling Ned into three layers of sheets like a burrito. You watched him as he shifted his weight onto his hips, then lifted the body and plopped it on his shoulder, swayed a little, and then made a face.

"Yeah".

He walked slowly away from the yard, and suddenly you got reminded of Ted Bundy, sneaking people's corpses in carpets across the streets.

The amount of strength it took him to carry that dry bastard to the car exerted him almost to the point of fainting. The heat of the street was booming on his poor head, and this two and a half meter cunt weighed about three hundred kilograms. Chibs, not himself a small guy, decided that he was probably sweating through and through, and allowed himself a really quick cigarette after he finaly threw the body into the box of the car. Groaning with anger at the dead guy, he leaned against the car and killed his half lunch with two deep inhales. Then returned to the house, where poor girl was crawling on the floor of the living room, trying to scrub the blood out of the carpet.

"Nope, this has to go, too", he grumbled. You looked up at him, standing, leaning onto the doorframe. In the direct sun rays you finally noticed that the shirt he's wearing was dark purple and not black. It's like the vision was finally clearing. Your head was letting go little by little, as you cleaned.

"Do we need to throw away the whole thing?" you complained.

"Aye".

"But what if... we take this", you sat on your legs and rubbed off the sweat from your forehead, "like a pizza cutter, you know, the round one, but very big".

"Sorry, I don't have a very big pizza cutter. You'd need about a dog's size pizza cutter here", he said, his voice coarse.

"Come on, I'll lift the stand, and you just pull it out".

Another couple of minutes of labor, and you sneaked in front of Chibs into the hall to open the door for him. He brought the carpet into the car, too, and returned, like a ghost.

You walked through the house, searching, hoping for more drops of blood, but all the traces were now dissolving in the water bucket, standing against the kitchen wall. The heat was growing, flowing through the dwelling like serpent.

"You alright?"

Chibs was standing behind you, another source of this heat, and you couldn't decide how you feel about him. You opened your mouth to reply, but had no words. You nodded, unsure.

"If you wanna cry, then cry", he advised, "what happened today, is trauma. And what's been happening, I gather", he clenched his jaw a ittle, as his eyes slid onto your neck, "has been trauma".

"So, you're the psychologist of the gang?" you said, just to say something. Chibs' face stayed stone serious.

"I was a medic in the army. That thing gives you an idea about how vulnerable human mind is".

"What else do you do?"

"Cook, recite poetry, adore chocolate balls. You know these candy balls with nut inside?"

You blinked.

"You mean Ferrero Rocher?"

"Yeah, that's the one".

You felt your lips tremble against your will, and Chibs seemingly read your mind.

"Can I use your shower? I'm sweatin' like a pig, and his blood got under the shirt".

The change of pace immediately brought you to your senses.

"Yeah, there's clean towels in the cupboard. The bathroom is on the way to the kitchen".

"Thank you".

He nodded and walked away, allowing you to collapse and cry out everything you weren't ready to show him.

You were thinking, if you were in trouble, to what lengths can Jackson allow himself to go, or willing, rather, to protect you. If you had a protector in this town, except yourself. Chibs seems like the protective type: quiet, dark and knowing. Maybe you could egg him up to have your back if you have troubles with police. Older guys like him have soft spots for damsels in distress.

Sweat was like glue against your skin, and you thought of the shower he was occupying. You rubbed your shoulder absent-mindedly, pondered, watched the dust dance in the light filling the living room, until you heard the water stop. Chibs closed the door carefully, and you heard his steps approaching again.

"Hey", he called softly. The chain on his jeans glistened in the sun. So juvenile. The last time you were interested in chains on your jeans was in high school. You could never fully relate to this style of life, you thought.

"Let's go get you a drink. You need to process all this".

(drenk)

"Haven't drunk in a long time", you moved slowly, tracing the lines on the floor that's been hidden for years under the carpet.

"Every time I drink now, the first drop of alcohol touches my mouth, I immediately fall asleep. I guess it's old age".

"Old age?" he smiled, amused. Dimples again, you noticed lazily. "If yer old, then I'm ancient".

"Well, you did mention the army, so I assumed you participated in the First War of Scottish Independence?"

That was the only one you knew.

"Exactly", he grinned. "You must drink some cheap shit that it puts you to sleep. We'll get you a quality drink. And you'll tell me the whole story".

He was speaking quietly, smoothly, his low voice rumbling pleasantly, but in a tone that said that he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"After dragging around this asshole, I say I have a right to know why he's dead".

You really liked how he says 'dead'. Daed. Daed.

He said, wear something that'll make you feel vindicated. New. You went upstairs, to your bedroom, and looked at yourself in the mirror. Skin glistening with water after the shower, blue long lines on your throat from this morning, when Ned was trying to squeeze the life out of you. Shaking you by your neck like a rabbit. It looked like a gothic kind of thick necklace, blueberry color. You decided to prop it up, because you survived, and he didn't. You finally snapped. And now he's gone, rotting in the box of this dangerous man's car.

You decided on the top you had bought years ago, always meaning to wear it, always traveling with it in hopes that the right occasion would come up; the pretty and smug black top with deep cleavage. You finally had jeans to go with it, also black, with high waist. With such a scary dog by your side you weren't even worried that someone would bother you, even in a biker bar.

You made your eyes glimmer red, like the blood you've been scraping off your floor today. Let your hair down. As you finally came down the stairs to find Chibs patiently waiting in the hall, he threw one look at you and immediately let the subtitles on his face do the job.

"Celebrating, eh?"

"I was going for... you know the look the widows have in the movies, when they're the ones who killed their husbands, so they dress up all cunty for the funeral?"

"Oh, I get it. I thought he wasn't your hubby though?"

"No, of course not. But I've been waiting forever to wear this top".

"Fair enough", he nodded readily and stood up.

"Where are we going?" you asked, clenching his eyes as you took your faux leather jacket from the rack. Wearing it now would kill you. Chibs had one, on top of his dark-purple shirt; you assumed, bikers and gangsters, and army medics were just tough like that.

[themadlu]

Do Not Open That Door

Astarion is sure his leader's unflinching morals will lead him to another unwanted grave. He is also sure she is putting on an act because people like her do not exist, clearly. He decides to test his assumptions.

TW: None I think

WC: ~3000 words

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird for the encouragement!

Astarion is livid. Well, maybe livid was an overstatement—he is annoyed. Annoyed and confused. Such feelings are still a vast improvement over the fear and shame he's been accustomed to, but they make him restless nonetheless. 

Especially because their cause is walking steadily next to him without a care in the world for his inner turmoil. 

Zélie, their oh so great leader, has managed to spoil what could have been a perfectly enjoyable afternoon on multiple fronts. First, she decides to talk to the goblins ambushing them instead of treating them like the savages they are.

(“We don’t know how many of them are in this village Astarion. What if there’s a little army and we’re outnumbered?”)

After confirmation that there were, in fact, quite a few goblins (and a couple orcs to boot), she managed to get free passage through the village by leveraging their wriggly alien parasite. He isn’t happy about it. Not at all. 

He has to begrudgingly admit hers was a wise call after witnessing just how large and hungry those orcs were. And of course they even agree to help a fellow true soul in need. Just what he needs to undermine what little influence he has on her.

(Her blood is in his body after all.)

In the last tendays she had made it her mission to remind him how despicable murder is, under most circumstances, aside from self-defence. This beautifully idiotic mindset of hers almost got her killed twice in front of his very eyes.

(She doesn’t know he has taken to finish off the enemies she leaves unconscious while she isn’t watching.)

When he had pointed out the suicidal flaw in her morals, she had given him her signature scolding look, crossed her arms, and started breathing in that funny way of hers. 

In, hold, out. 

(She says she is not trained as a monk, but he’ll be even more damned than he already is if that is true. The way she fights and holds herself—and those sickening ideals she has—tell a different story.) 

“Honestly, darling,” he hisses at her as they walk through the village, squinty eyes trained on their every move. “I thought we agreed that benevolence and honour,” he spits the words out like a curse, “get you nowhere but to an early grave.”

“Astarion,” she always says his name when she speaks to him—even in annoyance— and he hates his constant surprise at hearing it. His elven name had been replaced with other titles over time, more befitting of his status—boy, spawn, whore, slut, beautiful, toy, love…

Truly, it’s a small miracle he managed to hold on to his name. It’s one of the few things left that are truly his, yet hearing it spoken from that solemn woman's lips makes something in his chest preen. 

“I thought we agreed to disagree on that front. No, don’t give me that look. Killing someone is never justifiable. No matter what we tell ourselves, we are taking away something that wasn’t ours to begin with. Something irreplaceable. Even—” she held up her hand as he started to complain, “in self-defence, even then, I will make sure to exhaust all alternatives, and even then, it will be a failure on my part.”

You moron. 

“Too bad the rest of the world doesn’t think like you, darling,” he snapped. Hers was an act. There was no way in the hells anyone could survive to their…whatever age she was, he was never good with human lifespans, with that mindset. It was ridiculous, because if she actually was like that—if two–hundred years of shit didn’t teach him better—she should either be dead in a ditch or have ascended to godhood on her saintly behaviour alone. The only explanation he has for her standing close to him is that the mask she wears is as fake as his own. That, or she is a child of Ilmater. He bets on the former, given her complete ignorance of any deity on Toril.

“But you lied,” he counters, snapping his fingers. “You said we are here on Absolute business. Doesn’t that go against your precious code of honour?” he singsongs in her ear. 

“I didn’t lie. My tadpole reacted to theirs, and they drew their own conclusions. Technically, we are going to their camp on Absolute business too, if you count removing these,” she tapped her index to her temple. 

He smirks, victorious. “Circumstantial. One day, the tadpole won’t do the work for us and you’ll break your own code or doom us to death. For one, I’d rather not repeat the experience,” he says in a quiet voice, pointing at his chest. 

Their companions are still unaware of his condition—another occasion his holy leader conveniently withheld information. 

(“It’s your secret, it’s your decision.” Hypocrite.)

“Astarion, I know you take me for a fool, and I would normally pay more respect to a man—elf—my senior by centuries, but really. I can be practical and have a moral compass, and that means that when the choice is between lying and killing, I will pick lying any day, even if I don’t like it.” 

Enough. 

Her words incense him, annoyance suddenly turns into rage and something else—what’s that, envy?—he pivots on his left heel and closes the distance between them so fast she has no time to react. Zélie is left pinned to the wall, their bodies a breath away from touching, and he internally celebrates the surprised look on her face. 

He stares at her down his nose, ducking his head and planting a slender hand on the wall beside her head. 

Astarion has to make her stop before he tears her self-righteousness out of her throat. Before she realises how useless it all is—how useless and tainted he is—and either stakes him or banishes him. Because even her sickly, do-gooding self, fake or real it be, must have limits. If he pushes hard enough, they’ll crumble, and then he’ll be proven right. She is not what she says she is because creatures like that aren’t real.  

“Let’s make one thing clear, darling,” he growls, nostrils flaring, “you may be our great leader, but you should get off your high horse before someone shoots you off it. I don’t know what perfect little corner of the universe you grew up in, but you know nothing of this world and its dangers.” 

He flashes his fangs at her to drive his point across. The others are out of sight, looking for supplies in some ruin or cellar. Gods, he misses the city. 

Zélie is staring back at him, bristling, but lets him continue. She never interrupts any of them, not even him.

“I thought humans were all about developing and living fast, but you, my dear, are as ignorant as a babe. I am trying to make sure we keep our collective hides safe and do not get sidetracked by other pitiful creatures on our path.” 

He realises just how close he is to her when she straightens up again and their noses almost touch. 

Pale eyes go darker with a flash of anger. 

There. Come at me. Prove me right. 

“Spoken like a true man of the law, lord magistrate.” 

Why the hells is her tone so collected when she has a literal vampire at her throat?!

“You seem forgetful, so I’ll remind you that it was my ignorance that stopped Shadowheart from connecting her mace with your head. And it was my stupidity that convinced her you could join us, and that we should give you a chance at trust.” 

She makes no move to get closer, but he recoils as if scorched by fire. 

“And it is the same trust I placed in you yesterday when I let you bite me, even though it’s not how I envisioned a night of rest to go. I trusted you to stop, I trusted you to keep your word and not leave me a corpse.”

There it is. Reminding him of what he owes her. Of his debts. They say the quiet ones are the most depraved, and she is the strong and silent type. But he is nothing if not an expert in the art of subservience at this point, and if it gets her to keep giving him blood and protection—

“I trust you.” 

Then you’re doomed.

She says it as if it were a challenge. Her gaze is unwavering and he is left speechless yet again. Cazador would admire this quality of hers.

“I hope you can trust me in return.”

Impossible woman. 

“Well, I suppose you’re not wholly incompetent,” he manages to croak out. His nonchalant mask is harder to slip on this time. 

She huffs a breath of a laugh, a tiny thing, but it’s enough to transform her whole face. The weight she carries on her deceivingly flimsy shoulders seems to lift, leaving behind a young woman smiling softly at a…well, a monster. Talk about inexperience. 

Happiness suits you, little leader. 

The fact it’s his prattling that caused this marvel of a transformation stokes something in chest and in the pit of his stomach that he promptly pushes down. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Zélie says. She moves away and he is left staring at the crusty wall. Her body never touched his own during their exchange. 

Wait. That’s wrong. He was meant to make her see the reason in his ways, not the other way around. So why is he at her heels like a lost puppy the minute she walks away? 

(“You are nothing by yourself boy. You owe everything to me.”)

He is weak. So weak he has leashed himself to a human who can barely read common, fuck's sake. 

His temper rises again once he catches up with Zélie. He doesn’t need her condescension, nor her chiding (she doesn’t even know his full story yet, nor she ever will unless absolutely necessary, so pity isn’t there yet). He’ll show the wretched woman how wrong she is. 

Karlach and Lae’zel jog behind them as they reach a barn with a door locked shut. Zélie thinks nothing of it at first, but Astarion can smell what’s inside.

(His senses born anew from her blood.)

He smells the ogre and bugbear and their horrid affair before the rest of his companions hear the grunts and noises.

“Oh God, someone’s fighting!” exclaims Zélie.

Fighting, you say?

An idea strikes him. 

See what your misplaced goodness gets you when you try to help an ogre.

“I don’t know soldier, they don’t sound like fight noises to me,” says Karlach leaning towards the barn, but even she seems unsure. Astarion’s talents may be limited to a specific area, but in this case it works in his favour. He is very familiar with what those sounds mean. The half-ogres that fucked him into the bed so hard he bled were not so different.

(He still remembers how much it hurt, how he was left in a puddle of mixed releases, sweat, and what little blood he had).

“Well, even if they are fighting, it is clearly not our problem. I say we leave them to it and focus on what’s really important,” he says, using his annoyance as a hook. Zélie may be the most restrained person he’s come across, but he knows how to read people, and he knows she will do the opposite of whatever he says when it concerns morals. 

She falls for it. His smile is harder to suppress.

“Astarion! We’ve just talked about this!” 

Her voice raises a bit, but it’s almost eclipsed by another loud grunt from inside the barn. 

“So long as my blade can be sharpened on my enemies’ bones, I am ready.” Lae’zel is almost as ignorant as Zélie when it comes to their world, which is usually a hindrance, but now it’s the push their little leader needs to run to the rescue. 

Zélie tries to open the barn door (after cutting another withering look at the vampire lazily strolling at her back), finding it jammed.

The crescendo of grunts and bangs coming from inside is extremely loud now. 

Gods, they must be disgusting. 

“Hello?! Help is on the way, hang on!” the little human shouts as she frantically tries to get the door unstuck. 

“Oh hells, let me do it, darling, before we turn into tentacled freaks,” Astarion says in mock-annoyance. She eyes him suspiciously and he shoots her a winning smile. His nimble hands make quick work of the lock, and he pushes the door open. 

He needs just a peek to know his assumption about what was happening in the barn is correct, and turns to face his now horror-stricken companion. 

“Gods, they are disgusting,” he comments with his lips crooked in a satisfied smile. 

Zélie scrambles to compose herself and turns her back from the scene (the prudish) as she fails to find words to explain herself. “I—I am, I apologise, we thought—”

Oh, she’s in a state. Her cheeks flush redder than rubies (he can practically hear her delicious blood pooling there), whilst the rest of her is paler than after Astarion’s feeding. She opens and shuts her eyes as if trying to physically erase what she just witnessed.

The bugbear slides his now soft cock out of the ogre, and looks at them in rage.

“W–what the hells are you doing?!”

Oh, Astarion is thrilled. He doesn’t remember when last had such fun. He hears Lae’zel’s tsk’ and Karlach’s gags behind him, and he closely watches Zélie fumbling as he didn’t think was possible. 

“Apologies! I, you—you were making a lot of noise and I, we, thought you needed help,” she holds her hands in front of her in a peace offering. “I apologise for the intrusion! We’ll leave now—”

“Ruined! SMASH. I’ll smash you!” 

Oh. Astarion didn’t expect that. He just wanted to show Zélie how ungrateful the world is to idiots like her, not have her turn into orc food. 

Before he can think, he is tackling the woman to the ground, the orc’s club crashing a few spaces to his left. Karlach and Lae’zel’s throw themselves at the aggressor, and the fight starts in earnest. Astarion is more a stalker than a fighter, but he had his first fill of human blood only hours before, and his senses have never been that sharp, so he doesn’t miss the bugbear rushing towards their prone form. 

Daggers at hand, he braces to parry the onslaught (this may hurt) when his worldview shifts, his back in on the ground, and chilly afternoon air replaces the heat of his leader on his chest. 

What just happened?

He turns his head to see the bugbear crashing to the ground, Zélie crouched on one leg and tripping him with her other. “Go help the others! I’ve got this!” she shouts, as she wraps her limbs around the assailant in a tight bind. “Wait! It was an honest mistake—”

He doesn’t want to hear her voice now. Doesn’t want to think how the little moron literally threw him away from danger. Even worse, he will refute the idea he protected her from an angry orc till his last breath. He only got his body back recently. That’s it. He still is unsure of how to use it. 

And she's dinner.

He doesn’t want to dwell on what happened, so he nods and throws himself at the female orc while she is distracted by his companions. 

The fight doesn’t last too long after that, and something takes a hold of his insides when he looks at Zélie. She is silent, staring at the large corpse on the ground, bugbear knocked out at her feet. 

“Darling?” He moves towards her and the sadness in her eyes almost makes him apologise. Gods, what has he done? He didn’t think this was going to happen. And why does he care?! This was his intent, this and seeing the real her behind the strong, polite facade. 

“I just wanted to help.”

“I know, darling. I—”

See now, how impossible it is to keep your ideals in this world?

“You knew,” she says, and while he words his excuses (the only real one being he didn’t think they were going to be attacked) her shoulders drop and a defeated huff leaves her mouth. A far cry from her happy smile earlier. 

Astarion can’t wrap his head around how he caused both reactions in such a short span of time. But this look on her, this, he knows. He has seen far worse in the eyes and screams of those fools he lured back to his master, once they had his way with him and realised a bit too late they were as trapped as he was. 

He expects her to shout, to berate him, kick him, punch him, stab him, banish him—but none of that comes. Zélie studies him intently, and something in her demeanour lights up, an internal judgement made.

“I still trust you.” 

No. No no no, he’s not going to let her fool him into believing this—no!

Her face is suddenly level with Astarion’s knees, the now-awake bugbear readying a strike. 

Astarion doesn’t need to think—he falls forward and sinks his dagger into the wretch’s neck. Blood spurts out, but after tasting Zélie’s Astarion has no interest in it; mud compared to a clear sky.

“Soldier!” shouts Karlach, ever the helpful friend. Zélie pants as the dead attacker slides off of her, eye to eye with Astarion again. He can feel her light breath on his face. Karlach pulls her up; he is cleaning his dagger on the bugbear’s clothes when an outstretched hand enters his vision. Hers.

“Come on,” she says, tired but steady again. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Astarion flinches from the hand as if it were a trap (it is always a trap), but Zélie is new territory for him, that much he begrudgingly accepts. She is apparently above the rules of their miserable world because she chooses to trust him, a vampire, a lying one, again. 

He takes her hand, bracing for what may come his way, but she just helps him up. 

“Thank you, by the way. For saving my life before.”

It’s a trick. It’s a trick. Don’t fall for—

She wraps her hand around his so delicately he thinks he may break, and shakes it. His thoughts and words are silenced yet again. 

“Thank you.” 

Fuck. 

[star-writr]

Promise

Yay!! Another 10th Doc fic!! This one is a little longer than the last one luckily. Also school starts in four days for me and I'm terrified. Reader is gn. This will be up on my Ao3 in a sec. Enjoy!!

After yet another draining adventure, the TARDIS welcomed you and the Doctor with its warm lighting and buzzing noises. Closing the door behind him, the Time Lord huffed. "Well, that was a hell of a jog", he spoke, "even for me. Are you alright?"

You smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I think I'm going to take a nap. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," said the Doctor, making his way over to the console. "I'll be here if you need anything." You walked away, grateful to get a break.

The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair, already spiky and messy enough as it was, sighing. He fiddled with a couple buttons, trying to keep his hands – and thoughts – focused on the TARDIS rather than anything else. The spaceship seemed to find his troubled look quite funny, and her engines snickered.

"Laugh a little more, would you?", grunted the Time Lord. The machine didn't hesitate to do so.

The Doctor had been pining after his companion for a while, but had admitted these feelings to himself quite reluctantly. After all, he knew that you wouldn't be any different to his prior companions. He knew one day he wouldn't see you again; everyone left the TARDIS sooner or later, whether they wanted to or not. Even if you somehow reciprocated what he felt, the situation would've been just the same, and it would've been even worse when it ended. The Doctor was a time traveller, he couldn't focus only on the present; and thinking of the uncertainty of the future – which could've put you in danger in a hundred million different ways without him able to do anything – sent him off the rails like very few things could. He couldn't have you hurt because of his carelessness, feelings or no feelings. However, he still didn't know what to do. Maybe he should've told you the truth. But why bother? Again, it would've meant nothing. Destiny had the tendency to laugh in the Doctor's face, making his every move have the worst consequences possible; if you got involved by staying by his side, who knows what could've happened. There was also the possibility of you being uncomfortable once the Doctor confessed his feelings and leaving the TARDIS even sooner. So the Time Lord kept his mouth shut.

This went on for quite some time. Nevertheless, the Doctor couldn't keep carrying such a burden forever. And, against every last one of his intentions, he didn't.

It was rare to see the Doctor truly scared. It had been a long night, and an even longer adventure. Going deeper and deeper into the darkest of tunnels, holding onto his sleeve, the both of you running for your lives, you saw an expression that the Time Lord had never worn in front of you before then.

The enemy had taken his sonic, leaving the Doctor without his second most powerful weapon, and the first most powerful – his wits – didn't seem eager to respond at the moment. It was true that most times he worked well under pressure, but fear was a beast he didn't quite know how to make abide by his rules.

"Doctor, what do we do? We can't keep running forever," you reminded him, pulling onto his shirt. He stopped in his tracks and took one good look at you.

"Are you hurt?" he asked. You didn't answer. "We have to think of something else," you insisted, "or we'll be stuck here forever."

He said your name with his voice breaking. It was the first time you saw him that worried. "We can't do anything. We can't fight. We can only run", he stated.

You lowered your eyes. The truth was that you couldn't run anymore. As much as you didn't want to admit it, your feet were killing you and you had sprained your ankle.

"You're hurt", realized the Doctor. The sound of metal clanging coming from the tunnels behind you stripped you of all the hope you had left. The Doctor looked at you with wet eyes. "I don't have a plan", he said, "I'm sorry."

He couldn't give up so easily, you thought. The noise was getting closer. The pressure you felt crushed your lungs, leaving you almost breathless.

Even so, the Doctor wasn't the only one who worked well under pressure. You had a sudden idea, and all at once you felt like you could breathe again. A smile crept its way onto your lips. "Well, I do," you said.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Really? What are you going to do?" he asked. His question remained unanswered, at least for the moment, as your lips crashed together with his. "Stay put", you ordered him, then going straight towards the noise of metal. The Doctor – quickly pulling himself together after the sudden kiss – tried to stop you, but it was futile. As soon as you disappeared from his sight the noises suddenly stopped. A few moments later, you came back with his sonic screwdriver in hand and a smirk plastered onto your face.

"Holograms," you explained, "holograms and recorded sound effects. They took your sonic because it would've messed with their systems."

The Doctor's mouth was agape as he grabbed the screwdriver, inspecting it and occasionally shifting his eyes onto your figure. "How can a hologram grab anything?", he asked.

"They were projected onto an endoskeleton", you replied. "Fool proof disguise."

The Time Lord smiled. "You're a genius."

"Save it for when we're out of here, pretty boy," you teased, grabbing him by the tie and leading the way. Needless to say, the Doctor didn't protest. He was too impressed to complain.

You made it to the TARDIS only hours later, exhausted as per usual. The Doctor was still lingering on the kiss. He couldn't tell whether your sudden realization had made you so excited as to kiss him, or if it had been anything else. He was still unwilling to talk about his own feelings, but now that you had made what seemed like a first move, he decided to confront you about it.

He plopped next to you on the seat near the console. His palms were sweaty against the white leather and his eyes darted between the ceiling, you, and the pavement.

"What is it?" you asked, preceding him. The Time Lord suddenly found his shoelaces to be very interesting, and didn't bear to look at you.

"Just thinking", he whispered.

"About?"

"About the kiss."

You tilted your head. The Doctor was still looking down. A sigh escaped your lips. "Okay, listen."

"I am listening."

"Look at me, Doctor."

He didn't turn his head, and just peeked at you from the corner of his eyes. You later found his flusteredness to be quite adorable. For the moment, however, you wondered if the kiss had made him uncomfortable. In any case, it was best to tell him your reasons. All of them. No holding back. You wouldn't have hid anymore.

"I meant that kiss," you admitted. "I'm sorry if you weren't okay with it."

The Doctor went back to staring at his shoes. "I was okay with it." Your eyes lit up. "Frankly," he added, "it would be simpler if I wasn't. But I'm actually glad you did it first."

"Are you?" you questioned him. "You don't look so... happy."

"I know." The Time Lord bit his lip mindlessly.

"Then what's wrong?"

He was finally able to look at you. You deserved the whole truth, he thought.

"I've told you. My companions always end up leaving. Most of the time it's not planned. They end up endangered and the only solution, if there is one, is leaving me behind. If I get too attached I can never get over it."

You took his hand in yours. "Have you considered, even for a second, that it doesn't always have to end that way?"

"But it does."

"I'm still here, though."

The Doctor's eyes darted across the room. As much as he wanted to believe everything would've ended up being okay, he couldn't bring himself to. Each time he did, everything slipped away from his grasp leaving him alone once again.

"Doctor," you pleaded, "if you won't believe it can end differently, then at least let me promise you it will. At least believe in me."

The Time Lord pondered over your words for a couple moments. Then, he cupped your cheek with his free hand and kissed you. It was a desperate kiss, and it made the both of you scoot closer to the other, wrapping your arms around each other for support and clutching at the cloth on your backs. It didn't last for more than thirty seconds, and left you lingering for more.

"Promise me", he begged, "promise me."

"I promise", you whispered.

"Again. Say it again."

"I promise", you repeated.

His lips brushed onto yours. "Again." You smiled reassuringly, your voice a whisper.

"I promise." You kissed him again.

The night had just started.

[sweetyyhippyy]

Die with a Smile. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader. *ANGST*

Summary: Eddie and his girlfriend try to escape town from a larger Mind Flayer that is destroying town.

Word Count: 1.2k

TW: End of the world trope. Final moments alive. Mentions of gun shots and bombs. Final goodbyes. Dying.

Note: This is a song inspired fic, obviously by the title. And I also loosely inspired this off of the end of the movie Cloverfield.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie’s hand squeezes hers, tightening his grip as they run from the gunshots and explosions that were going on in the distance. 

Even though the Mind Flayer had been defeated over 2 years ago at Star Court Mall, somehow another one made its way into Hawkins, but this time this one wasn’t going down without a fight. And this one was on steroids, towering hundreds of feet in the air, reminiscent of Godzilla terrorizing Tokyo. 

The town had been destroyed both by the Mind Flayer and all of the efforts to try and take the creature down. After hours of trying to shoot it down, shooting grenades at it it was clear that nothing was going to work. The military was quick to set up evacuation of everyone in town. 

Her and Eddie rushed to one of the evacuation sites from the trailer park, getting out of there was a war zone enough. 

Eddie worried about Wayne, if he had gotten on a bus and if he hadn’t where he was and if he was safe and alive. He had hoped he had gotten out of town in the first wave. 

One of the school buses was packed with people from the town trying to evacuate, but as it was driving an explosion went off near the bus and caused the bus to crash onto its side. 

They were closer to the Mind Flayer that either of them ever wanted to be, getting caught in the crossfire of bullets and crumbling concrete. 

Her and Eddie, along with a few other people were able to escape from the bus. But they were all on their own to find a way to get as far away from town as they could before it was too late. 

“Eddie!” She yells from behind him, losing her footing in the rubble surrounding the ground in the woods. “Eddie! Wait, I need to stop for a second!” 

“We have to get out of here, baby. We have to get as far as we can.” He was determined to get her out of the blast zone that he overheard some of the military soldiers talk about. 

A large blast goes off, making the entire ground shake below the couple, making her hand slip from his and causing her to fall to the ground. 

“Oh shit.” She groans, struggling to get back up onto her feet. Her vision goes hazy from the falling dirt in the air. 

Eddie quickly rushes to her, taking a knee to look at her. “Can you get up? We just have to go a little bit further.” Carefully he helps her onto her feet, draping her arm over his shoulder. “I got you, baby. Let’s go.”

Just as Eddie is about to start walking, the air raid siren starts to echo through the air along with a loud screech from the Mind Flayer. 

“Shit.” Eddie curses to himself, freezing in place. “Shit!” He yells, the word echoing. 

The instructions were clear from the military soldier that Eddie had overheard.  

“If you hear the air raid siren, it’s too late.”

The military was planning on leveling the town in order to take down The Mind Flayer. Their hope was that all, if not most of the town’s population had evacuated to keep the casualties at a minimum. 

“Oh my god.” She grips onto Eddie’s shoulder, turning to look at her boyfriend with terror in her eyes. “W-what do we do?” 

He shakes his head, sighing loudly. “Nothing baby. This is it for us.” His large wet eyes looking into hers, no terror in his body like hers.  

Her heart drops to her stomach at the realization that this was her last moments alive. Her last moments with Eddie. 

“Can’t we take shelter somewhere?” 

“No baby. The bomb they’re going to set off is going to make Hawkins something people only read about in books. There’s no saving ourselves anymore.” 

Eddie looks at his girlfriend, her forehead covered in a thin layer of sweat, dirt, and blood causing her hairs to stick to it. This was going to be the lasting image of the girl he had loved for the better part of 3 years. 

“Eddie… I don’t want to die.” Her voice breaks at the end as she swallows sobs. 

He helps her onto the ground, sitting next to her and hugging her close to his body. “I know, sweetheart.” His own eyes filling with tears that he blinks back, kissing her hair. “I don’t want to go either. But we don’t have much of a choice.”

From up above their heads, multiple helicopters fly away from town, the military getting away before dropping the bomb that would wipe Hawkins off the face of the earth. 

“But guess what?” He unhooks himself from her and grabs her face. “I get to stare into those beautiful eyes of yours before I go. Somehow that makes it all the more worth it to me.” 

Tears start to flow down her cheeks as they sit together, studying every inch of each other's face to commit it to memory. 

“At least I get to be with you.” She says, holding his hand tight. 

“I love you baby. This isn’t how we should be ending things, but I’m so glad that I’m with you.” Eddie says to her as he presses a kiss to her lips firmly. 

“I love you, Eddie. Love you so much.” She sniffles, letting her sobs out fully. “Eddie, I'm so scared.” 

He was terrified too, but he didn’t want to show her how scared he was and send her into a full blown panic attack. “I got you the whole time, sweetheart. You don’t have to be scared.” 

She shuffles her body in between his legs, cuddling into his torso while he wraps his arms around her. 

“Love you so much, baby. Love you so much.” He repeats in her ear over and over, tears rolling down his cheeks now that she wasn’t looking at him. 

Her grasp against his jacket gets stronger as the Mind Flayer continually screeches in the distance and the ground shakes each time it walks. 

A loud woosh from overhead makes both of them look up at the hazy night sky, several planes soar in the sky toward town followed by a large explosion and debris flying around both of them. 

She screams as large branches start to snap from above and land next to them, making her squeeze her eyes closed. “Eddie!” 

Eddie squeezes her tighter into his chest, trying to shield her as best he can. “I got you, baby. I’m right here.” 

Everything around them gets louder, more and more explosions booming, some of them sounding close to them. Debris falls into her lap, Eddie yelping in pain as some of it hits his back. 

“I love you, Eddie!” 

“I love yo-,” A loud whistle from above their heads interrupts Eddie, followed by the sound of a tree snapping from behind them. 

Both of them knew this was truly it. 

She looks up at Eddie, tears clouding her view of him. “I’ll see you soon, baby.” 

Eddie grabs her face, nestling it in his palm. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

[writefinch]

Cheerleader Ransom, Pt.4 (CN: noncon, bondage, anal, enemas, rimming)

'Look at that, ain't it peachy?'

The camera went in and out of focus, whip-marred buttocks pried apart by hairy sausage-link fingers, skin so pale it cast a halo of glare where her flesh ended and the rough digits began. Her asshole was in the center of the shot, pink and puckered and slick with lube; beneath it her pussy had been crudely sealed over with duct tape. As the shot zoomed out, the marks and bruises of the previous days' trials appeared on her skin; any hope that this might be anyone other than Robert's own daughter on the screen disappeared.

The cameraman panned up and the leader of the kidnappers stepped into frame. 'Well, Robert, I was gonna say that if you'd paid up yesterday you'd have saved at least one of your little girl's virgin holes, but honestly, with the way it's been winking up at us I don't think we'd have been able to restrain ourselves either way.'

A breathy, pained noise came from below. Hannah was lying on her belly, both arms tied behind her back, strapped together at the wrists and at the elbow., Her right leg was bent backwards so far that her heel was over the small of her back, held in place by a length of rope that had been tied around her ankle at one end and to the back of her leather collar at the other. The rope forced her to arch her back severely to keep her collar from choking her, an asymmetry which looked distinctly uncomfortable.

'Don't worry about us getting our dicks dirty in her ass, we hung her up by her ankles this morning and gave her a couple of half-gallon enemas. She whined about the cramping but by the end she was clean enough to drink out of. In fact, after a little talk with Sparky, she even volunteered to prove it! She threw it straight back up afterwards but I gotta tell you it was pretty hot, don't worry we've got it all on video, we'll send you a special features cut in a couple of days.'

He knelt down next to Hannah, his cock glistening with grease and looking harder than flesh had any right to look. Robert would have thought it too big to possibly fit inside his daughter had he not seen ample proof otherwise over the past several days. She squirmed as the man straddled her leg, and froze when the head pressed against her hole. The kidnapper sucked air through his teeth. 'It always hurts them more when they tense up and try to fight it,' he said, 'but it makes them so much tighter!'

He dropped his weight, her ring yielded to the pressure and the head slipped inside. She howled and she thrashed and the thrashing pulled her collar tight enough to choke her and by the time she knew which way was up the man had wedged half of his eight-inch cock up her asshole. The previous rapes had a frenetic velocity to them, the men had barely wetted their dicks in her cunt and mouth before humping away at top speed, but her tightness and the awkwardness of the position meant that this violation was horribly slow in comparison. There would not be the easy relief of a sudden climax this time, it would be hundreds of jerky, halting thrusts before the man reached the drilling pace that would get him off. The other men seemed to have a sense of this; it wasn't until the chief kidnapper had worked up a good pace and a good sweat that one of the others stuffed his half-erect cock between Hannah's trembling lips.

The mic picked up at once too much sound and too little of it, the gluck-gluck-gluck of facefucking syncopated with the rhythmic slapping of hips against her butt flattening out every other muttered taunt from the kidnapper. '--fucking whore--doesn't--a shit about you--ruin you--if you don't--really fucking hurt you--'

The man raised his voice and hand and the cameraman walked round to capture the rape from behind and up-close so that the crack of her ass took up the middle third of the frame. The mic picked up the gutteral noise of a man spitting on a woman's face as the pace of the fucking went frenetic, a second later the kidnapper pulled his cock out in a fluid movement, her asshole gaping open raw and pink and wide as a silver dollar, quivering and twitching for a second before the cock shot out a rope of sperm directly into the hole, and another and another until he squeezed out the last drops onto her almost-closed anus. He had barely stepped aside when the next man stepped into place and sunk his cock into the girl, and as the camera panned up it revealed another three men in front of her cramming their cocks into her mouth in turn. The men up front grabbed the rope between her ankle and collar and pulled it forward, forcing her head forward onto their dicks to relieve the torturous strain on her leg and hips. They did not pace themselves, one man climaxing in her mouth only to be replaced by another moments later, and the man raping her asshole pulled out to cum over her face as she hacked up sperm onto the mattress below.

She passed out after being sodomized another two times, the men up front begrudingly giving her a break as they held ammonia salts under her nostrils. Her spastic jerks helped the men using her ass get off faster, but they kept having to slap her cheeks to make her open her mouth long enough to orally rape her. The facefucks became more cautious as she passed out a second and a third time, unable to take in enough oxygen between the strangling from the collar and the choking from the cocks, and once ten men had fucked her asshole the strain of the collar alone was too much for her to bear even without a dick in her mouth. The kidnappers relented, removing the rope between her ankle and neck and rolling her onto her back.

Before Hannah could take more than a handful of shaky breaths, the female kidnapper, Sparky, stood over her. She brandished a cattle prod, hiked down her cargo pants at the back just far enough to expose her buttocks, and sat on the girl's face. Hannah whined as a sweaty asshole pressed itself against her lips. Hannah howled as the cattle prod flash-fried her nipple. The woman bore her weight down, Hannah hyperventilated. Sparky held up the prod and let it crackle in the air; Hannah stuck her tongue out and licked. More men raped her through her crash-course in rimming as Sparky instructed her through clipped words and high voltage the finer points of licking, smooching, sucking and tongue-fucking her hole, and every time a man finished Sparky would dismount so that Hannah could show her gratitude by lapping the sweat from each man's ass in turn.

Half the men had fucked her already and wanted sucking hard before raping her again, so she was dragged upright into a better position to blow each of them, forced on top of a man to ride him cowgirl-style while the men used her blonde hair as a crude facefuck-handle. They played thumping, bassy music and told her to fuck to the beat, two men standing behind her to whip her back with leather belts when she failed to slam her ass down on the man's hips to the rhythm. Hannah's whole back was a mess of pink stripes going on red before she collapsed, legs jelly, too weak to beg.

The camera zoomed in on Hannah's face, pressed into the groin of one of the men, his balls on her chin and her forehead molded into his beer gut. After a few deep, grinding thrusts the man pulled his dick out of her throat, covered in a thick layer of bubbly white slobber and throat-slop that formed a drooping bridge between his glans and her lips. His cock twitched, nailing the her on the nose with a jet of cum as she whimpered and snuffled.

'Nice shot,' the head kidnapper said. 'Alright boys, enough with this softcore Skinemax shit. Robert, it's time to make a woman out of your little girl.'

The camera was placed on the floor, facing up at the metal struts of the warehouse ceiling. From off-screen there was laughter and a yelp of pain. A moment later, Hannah was carried into frame by a particularly muscular and well-endowed kidnapper. He had her folded in half in a modified Full-Nelson hold, his elbows hooked under her knees and his fingers interlaced behind her neck, holding her up with her back to his belly. Sparky's gloved hands came into the shot, coating the man's prodigious tool with lube before stuffing the head into Hannah's asshole.

Before Hannah could do anything more than flail her ankles and gurgle in discomfort a second, equally-massive man approached from the front. He took his cock and pressed it against her hole, forcing it in alongside the other man's member. Her attempt to scream sounded more like a whooping cough, all the necessary air forced out by the mass of the two brutish men either side of her. From below, all that could be seen were her twitching legs and the two shafts going deeper inside her. Her struggles intensified, the tendons in her hamstrings flexing briefly as she tried hopelessly to free herself, and then she went limp. The men sawed in and out, one thrusting deep as the other pulled back in turn. Her protests had been reduced to soft little grunts, barely audible over the rhythmic slapping of flesh.

There was some muttering back and forth, followed by the quiet of intense concentration. Both men pulled out to the halfway mark before thrusting in simultaneously, squeezing Hannah between them as they pulled her as far down onto their cocks as she could go. She made a noise like a death rattle. They held her in place for a few seconds before both pulling out completely, Sparky's hand shot out holding a plastic ruler, measuring Hannah's gaping asshole from rim to rim.

'One-and-a-half, nearly two inches. Damn it Robert, I thought cheerleaders were supposed to be flexible? Did you bribe the coach to get her on the team? Is that where our money went?' Their leader sighed. 'I guess we're cleaning up your messes again. Come on boys, let's show this bitch some deep stretches.'

They dropped Hannah onto the mattress. Two different men began double-raping her, face-to-face with the man underneath her while the other rutted into her like a dog. After a few minutes of pounding they swapped out for another pair, but not before measuring her gape. Twenty-five men raped her this way, with one particularly wiry trio negotiating all three of their dicks into her hole at once. The biggest duo stretched her gape to three-and-a-quarter inches; they were awarded with back-slaps and tallboys. They dragged her to her knees and held up her arm like a winner on the podium, and poured the dregs of beer over her head.

As they forced her to suck their cocks clean, the leader stepped in front of the camera and blocked the view. He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. 'That's all three holes, Robert,' he said, over the sounds of gagging. 'You're as good at protecting your daughter's virtues as you are at protecting our investments. Look pal, I'll do my best but you're really on a time crunch now, okay? I'll have to think of some inventive ways to keep her entertaining my boys or they'll get bored, and if they get bored…' He paused just long enough for the microphone to pick up the sound of Hannah vomiting cum through her nose, and shook his head. 'Get us our money, Robert. Girls don't last long when they're boring.'

He stepped out of frame. The camera caught the image of Sparky, her fist wrist-deep in Hannah's asshole, and cut to black.