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sexy-monster-fucker · 1 month ago

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Incubus

NSFW Art the Clown x F!Reader

Prompt: Reader is out with one of her friends when she runs into an interesting looking clown. Later that night, he seems to visit her in a dream. (Kinda going off the idea that Art is a supernatural being who can appear in people's dreams at will).

CW: Art being a freak, use of sex toys, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, choking, creampie

a/n: to quote Cassie from Euphoria "AND YOU CAN ALL JUDGE ME IF YOU WANT BUT I DO NOT CARE! I HAVE NEVER EVER BEEN HAPPIER" really going back to my sexy-clown-fucker roots with this one gang

~~~

Halloween Night.

You and your friends had been planning to go out like you had since you were teenagers. Getting dressed up in your sluttiest best Halloween costumes, going to your favorite spot in town to eat, then hitting up some parties.

Your group took up a large table at the same old diner you always met at. Friends pregaming with flasks and shot bottles they snuck in. Some more blitzed than others. As you got older, the desire for partying was beginning to leave your body. Wanting to be completely black out drunk in public becoming more embarrassing than exhilarating.

So when your best friend decided she wanted to mess with one of your fellow patrons, a lump formed in your stomach.

A tall man dressed in a half white and half black clown costume sat at one of the tables alone. Giant shoes adorned his feet, the tip of his long nose had a black dot on it, and a bald cap with a tiny hat rested upon his head. He had been staring at your group since he arrived. Most of your friends too out of it to notice.

Your friend walked over, leaning over the table he sat at. Pushing her cleavage directly in his face as she spoke to him. “Nice costume,” she batted her lashes at him. His expressionless face stared at her. A semi aggravated frown on his face. Everyone at your table began giggling as you watched in horror. She took a seat directly in his lap, wrapping one of her arms around him. She tugged at the hat on his head, smacking it down with a pop. “Awe, look how cute. But dontcha think it would look better one me,” she grabbed the hat off his head. Pulling the string and placing it down on her own.

Embarrassment ate away at your insides. All your friends stared and snickered at the situation. The man seemingly unfazed. She flicked at his nose with her finger. You could not take it any longer.

“Oh my God,” you grabbed her by the arm and yanked her away from him, “I am so sorry. If I had known she was going to do that I would’ve stopped her sooner.” You ripped the tiny hat off her head. “Here’s that. Once again I’m so sorry—“

“Why do you keep apologizing to this freak?!”

You shot a look at her, brows pushed together in frustration. Pulling her outside of the restaurant. She fought for you to let go of her. Stumbling in her drunken state.

“What the fuck is wrong with you! Why are you acting like this?” You were hurt by your friend’s actions.

“Why do you even give a shit, Y/N? That’s just some random skeezeball in a restaurant. I could fuck him and we’d never have to see him again.”

“Because you’re embarrassing me!” You shouted, folding your arms over your chest. Taking a deep breath and blinking away the feeling you were harboring.

She stood in front of you with a look of disgust on her face. Her hand planted firmly on her hip. A laugh erupting from her. Wrapping her hand around your wrist and pulling you back inside. Presenting you in front of the table of all your friends. “Go ahead if that’s really how you feel, Y/N,” she cocked her head to the side.

“I— I, uh—“

“Y/N said she’s embarrassed by us. Guess we huwt hew widdle feewings!” Your friend pushed out her bottom lip and mocked you. The entire table laughed at you. All your so called friends calling you names like “Debby Downer” or “Sour Puss” or “Buzz Kill.”

You stood frozen in shock. Unable to believe all your friends you had known so long were treating you this way. All of them a little drunk, but not drunk enough for them to not know what they were doing.

“Come on, everybody. Since we’re so embarrassing to be around. You can stay here,” your friend patted you on the head as she and everyone else threw some cash on the table to cover their bills. You were in disbelief. Feeling abandoned and hurt. Ashamed.

You looked over at the Clown Man who you were defending previously. His gaze fixated on you, expression completely emotionless. Sharp eyes cutting into you. Walking over to him one last time as you began to leave, “I really am sorry she did that. I hope your night goes better than mine.” You gave him a closed mouth smile as you walked out of the restaurant. Lifeless eyes watching you exit.

You held yourself as you walked home. Cold breeze hitting your revealed skin, sending chill bumps down your body. You tugged at the short skirt you wore when you saw a group of guys staring at you. Suddenly uncomfortable in your costume. You arrived home and began getting ready for the night ahead. You did love passing out candy. Something you really had not got to do in a long time. You loved seeing all the kids dressed up, excited for their sugar filled treats.

Time passed and the knocks on your door were scarce. Disappointed in the lack of trick-or-treaters. Feeling like you had lost all love for this holiday. One that was your favorite. Deciding to pass on dinner and just bake some cookies instead.

You sat on your couch mindlessly watching TV. The lack of trick-or-treaters had you drifting in and out of sleep. Finally dozing off…

You were in a dark room. Only lit by candlelight. A musky smell filled the air. You looked down to see yourself completely nude. Wrists and ankles tied to the frame of the large bed you laid on. Confusion ran through you.

Footsteps filled the room. Straining your neck to look down the dark hallway through the open door. Complete silence coming from the darkness other than the loud clap of shoes. The Clown from the restaurant earlier walked into the dim light. Facial expression flat, eyes piercing down at you. Heat dripped down your body knowing he was seeing you completely nude and on display. Approaching the edge of the bed, his head falling to the side as he stared at your bare pussy. A wicked grin crept upon his face.

His hand dug deep down into the bag he carried. The sound of all different textures of things tussled against each other as he went shoulder deep looking for something. An excited look washed over his face as his hand gripped around what he had been looking for. Pulling a deep red, microphone shaped vibrator from the bag. Your entire body flushed.

He crawled on the edge of the bed between your spread legs. Clicking the vibrator to the setting he thought you would enjoy most before teasing around your pussy with it. You moaned at the sudden sensation. Your thighs began trembling as he edged closer and closer to your throbbing nub. When the toy finally found its place on your sweet spot you called out to him, your hips arching at the feeling. Making circular motions with the vibrator, pulling every noise from you he could. Watching as your chest heaved with each shaky breath.

The waves of your first orgasm washed over you like a tsunami. Every inch of you quaking as pure ecstasy pumped through your veins. The Clown smiled at you from the position he was in. A prominent tent pitched through his satin suit. You bit your lip watching him palm himself through the fabric. Mouth beginning to water as the spot of his suit grew darker with his pre-cum. You rolled your hips at him, encouraging him to fuck you.

Dark eyes shot up to look into yours. Hand never leaving his erect member. Your eyes pleaded with him, a small quiet “please” falling from your quivering lips.

His hand clawed at the fabric around his cock, ripping open a hole big enough for him to pull himself out. Eyes unable to look away from how his gloved hand wrapped around his member. Tugging at his erection, his head falling back ever slightly as he savored the feeling of his hand. Almost like he was putting on a show for you.

His body weighed down the bed as he positioned himself to be directly in front of your aching core. Head of his cock prodding at your entry. Tremors of anticipation quaked through you. His lips were barely parted as he looked down at your face. Hooded eyes enjoying the view of you. He rubbed the tip against your folds, collecting all the remnants of you on himself. Ready to delve in.

… A loud knock at the door pulled you awake. You had been dozed off for a few hours now. It was almost too late at night for kids to be out. You sat up, grabbing the bowl of candy off the table in front of you. A second more aggressive knock. “On my way!” You called out as you walked to the front door.

Opening the door to a familiar costumed man. The Clown your friend had been rude to earlier. Little old to be trick-or-treating, but you did not care. “Oh— Hey! It’s you,” flashes of the dream you had been having about him ran through your mind. Heat rising to your cheeks. You swallowed heavy. A toothy grin painted his face as he waved excitedly at you. Holding up a black garbage bag asking for candy from your bowl. You smiled grabbing a large handful of candy and putting it in the bag for him. His eyebrows rose as his mouth morphed into a perfect ‘O’ shape. His hand went up to his lips blowing a silent kiss at you. You caught it with your hand and placed it on your cheek with a giggle.

“There plenty more where that came from. You’re probably my last trick-or-treater for the night. I’ve got all this candy left,” you shook the bowl tossing the candy around in it. The Clown stood before you not saying anything. Eyes staring at you with a wicked grin on his face.

The loud sound of your fire alarm going off made you jump right out of your skin. You looked over your shoulder then back at the man in front of you. His eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Oh— Oh, Crap! I forgot about the cookies I put in the oven!” You rushed back into your house leaving the door wide open. Running into your kitchen and grabbing the oven mitts you had left on the counter, pulling the charred cookies out and throwing the pan into the sink, running cold water over it. Smoke engulfed your kitchen. You opened the window over the sink, fanning the thick fumes out of the window with your oven mitt. Coughing as you accidentally inhaled some of the tar.

You leaned over the counter, hearing the squeak of shoes approaching you identical to what you had heard in your dream. You looked up to see the Clown examining your house. Waving his hand in front of his face as he scrunched up his nose at the smell. You sighed, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even get to introduce myself to you yet. I’m Y/N.” He waved at you acknowledging the introduction.

“Don’t say much do you?”

He shook his head aggressively.

“Hmm. Then how am I going to learn your name?”

He gleamed excitedly. Coming over and grabbing you by the wrist. Pulling you to your fridge where you had countless letters, newspaper clippings, and coupons pinned. He pointed to a picture about the local go-cart racing tournament that happened a few weeks back.

“Cart?”

He made an ‘X’ with his hands, shaking his head in disagreement. He reemphasized the ‘X’ before holding up one finger.

“Okay, minus one letter.”

He nodded with a bright smile.

“Car?”

He folded his arms over his chest, a look of disappointment on his face. His head falling to the side with a look that said “really?”

“Okay. Okay. Art?”

He jumped up and down clapping his hands with joy. Nodding his head rapidly. Clearly thrilled that you were so good at guessing.

“Art! I like that name,” you smiled suddenly realizing that his grip around your wrist stayed. Blushing at how close your bodies were to each other. Remembering your fantasy you were having about it pulling heat to your face.

“Well, since you’re already in here might as well make yourself comfortable. If you wanna sit in the living room I can bring you a glass of water or something,” you smiled. His wide eyes stared at you, smile never leaving his face. He slowly gave you a thumbs up before spinning on his heel and going into your living room.

“Can I tell you something crazy?” You smiled as you sat the glass down in front of him. He nodded. “I— you were just in my dream.” His mouth morphed into an ‘O’ shape, eyebrows raised in intrigue. “I dozed off after I got ditched at the diner. And we were— uh— well, you were. I was—“ Embarrassment washed over you. Realizing you were about to admit to having a sex dream about a complete stranger.

He made an okay gesture with one hand, sticking his opposite pointer finger into the o. You blushed at his insinuation. You nodded coyly. His face fell into a look telling you he thought your thoughts were naughty. Chastising you with his finger. You smiled. He rested his chin on one of his hands propped against his leg, waving for you to continue with the other.

“OH! No, you don’t want to hear the details or anything. It was…” you hid your face from him slightly. Unsure of what to say about the dream. Too awkward to fully admit it.

Art crawled off the couch, resting his chin on your bare knees like a begging puppy. A large frown decorating his face as he fluttered his eyes at you. Wide eyes stared down at him in your lap. Your nerves were set on fire. The source being where his chin touched your bare skin. You swallowed back hard.

He pressed his lips into the skin of your exposed thigh. Biting the soft flesh, leaving grease paint anywhere his lips touched. You felt your body quiver as his teeth dug into you. Bites turned into long licks. Saliva painted your exposed skin. “Art~” you moaned loving the feeling of him on your skin. A wicked grin crept on his face.

Partially gloved hands pried your legs open. Sadistic eyes stared at your clothed core. Noting how you had already soaked through your panties. Licking his way up your skin before planting a sloppy kiss on your core. You slid down the couch exposing yourself better to him. His long tongue lapped over your soaked entry, sucking on the fabric. Your hands gripped his head, eyes rolling back as he worked on you.

He suddenly stood up. You fluttered your eyes up at him. He walked over to his previous seat on the couch. Digging through the black trash bag he carried with him. Making a surprised face when his hand found what it was looking for.

Everything was so familiar...

Pulling something out and hiding it behind his back. Gesturing for you to join him. Patting his lap as you got closer to him. Hesitantly you straddled him. He leaned back into the couch, hooded eyes scanning your entire body. A mischievous grin painted his dirty teeth. He grabbed at your panties, ripping them clean off. Holding them up to his nose and taking a deep inhale, eyes rolling back into his head. Over exaggerating his exhale and putting your ripped garment down into his trash bag. The cool air against your now exposed core sent chills across your entire body.

There was a sudden hum coming from behind Art. He pretending to look around as if he could not find the source of the sound. You blushed at the realization of the noise. Revealing the same deep red want from your dream. You gasped.

"That's the same one from my-"

He cut you off by pressing the toy against your throbbing clit. You moaned loudly, throwing your head back. You rolled your hips against the vibrating silicone. Fire igniting deep inside you. Lost in the feeling.

Art watched how you played with yourself on the toy. His cock begging for the same attention the vibrator was getting. He smacked the side of your thigh to get your attention. Pulling you from your horny, dumb state. Your eyes meeting his gaze. His brows furrowed together as he pointed down to his erect cock. You continued your motions as you reached around to unzip his clown suit. Sliding the satin off his shoulders. His pale, slender body revealing itself to you. Propping yourself up so he could shimmy the material around his ankles. Noticing how he wore no underwear under the suit. You smiled as you stared at his cock.

Your first orgasm was rapidly approaching with the pace of the toy pressed into you. Art's gloved hands guided you down onto his member. Throwing his head back as you sunk down. The way your walls sucked him right in. Almost like your body was begging to be fucked. He blinked hard, his jaw agape. Hands encouraging you to bounce up and down. From the first few hops your orgasm took over you. Moaning his name and shaking. Walls gripping his member inside you. Art licked his teeth, mocking your orgasm face.

You expected him to move the wand so that he could fuck you to his own high. However, he pressed it firmer into your aching nub. Your hips rutted forward. Shocked expression taking over your face as you panted above him. Sweat decorating your skin.

"I-I can't do an-another one," you pleaded with the Clown. Your senses in overdrive as your pussy still spasmed around him occasionally. He pouted, mocking your pleas. Nodding his head to tell you, you would be having another one. Shaking entirely as he began a relentless pace inside you. Snapping his hips flush against your ass with each aggressive thrust. You cried out with each crack of skin. Overwhelmed with how good he felt inside you.

Fingers dinging into his bare shoulders. Gripping him tight enough to break the skin. His own fingers held your hips with a bruising force as he continued bouncing you on him. Feeling yourself approach another orgasm. Air hitching in your throat feeling your skin burn with pleasure.

Art reached one of his hands up and wrapped it around your throat. Squeezing tighter than anyone had ever before. Having you seeing stars, feeling like you could faint at any moment. Truly taking your breath away from you.

HONK!

A silver horn was shoved in your face as he released your throat. Bringing you back to the situation. Also causing you to grip his member again. He mimed a laugh when your body jumped at the sudden noise.

His head fell back against the head of the couch as he savored the feeling of you wrapped around him. Knowing his end was approaching. Sloppily thrusting up into you, circling your clit with the want. Willing you to cum at the same time. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. Wishing you could lean forward and bite at his flesh. Decorate his skin with your markings. But you were far too close to your second high to change positions now.

Screaming out to him as you came far harder than the first time. You felt Art shoot up into you, spilling his hot seed into you. Continuing to thrust up into you as he rode out both your highs. Watching how he leaked out of you and pooled around his base. Smiling for a moment before his face fell flat. He helped you off his lap, sitting you beside him. Standing and attempting to reach his zipper on the back.

You stood and helped him. Making sure to pull the zipper away from his skin to prevent any accidents. Art turned and tipped his hat to you. You blushed as you stood in front of the man who just rocked your world.

You watched as he grabbed his black bag and threw it over his shoulder. Heading towards the door. Turning to blow a kiss at you one last time.

Catching it and placing it on your lips. Blowing one right back at him. He pretending to rub the blush off his cheeks.

And just as quick as he had entered he exited your home. You waved goodbye. Choosing not to question the stranger you had let into your home for a quick fuck.

Watching as he disappeared into the night.

[END]

// Thank you for reading! This is my first time writing for Art. You really gotta get creative when you can't use dialogue lol. I hope you enjoyed this story! I plan on writing more for him, so if you have any requests please send them my way! Or if you want to be tagged in anything let me know! //

{tags}

@hoe-for-daddywise | @cup1d-ends-here | @xenoanamorph | @getmeoutofhell |

#art the clown #art the clown x reader #terrifier #terrifier x reader #terrifier 2 #terrifier 3 #writing #fanfic #david howard thornton #slashers #slasher x reader #october #sexymonsterfics

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that-one-p00k1e · 4 months ago

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───〃★ didn't see that coming? ೃ⁀➷˚ ♡ ⋆｡

✧ summary: kissing them unexpectedly ft. Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Ren Kaji, Mitsuki Kiryu, Akihiko Nirei, Chika Takiishi, & Jo Togame

✧ content: fluff, gn!reader, OOC (especially w/Chika's since I haven't read the whole manga yet), lots of pure kisses, established!relationship

✦ a/n: no more screen time of my beloveds till next year 😢

— HARUKA SAKURA | You were at his house, feeding him food and medicine to tend to his fever. He kept insisting that he was fine and was able to take care of himself, but you wouldn't budge no matter how much he argued back. Due to his sickened condition, his energy to complain was quickly drained out. In the end, he let you do your thing and even tuck him to bed. You watched him close his eyes, cool cloth placed on his forehead as his brows let loose and his breathing calming down. The sight made you feel slightly more at ease. Before deciding to leave, you placed a quick peck on his forehead and whispered, “Get well soon, sweetheart.” His fever rose higher the next day.

— HAYATO SUO | He was always the one to initiate something unexpected, which made you determined to get back at him for once. You walked home with him holding an umbrella under the rain, and you saw how he was focused on the road. Seeing the clear opportunity, you went on your tippy toes and squeezed your eyes shut, kissing his cheek before looking away flustered. His eyes went wide for a moment, before smiling and retorting, “My, my. I see you've gotten quite bold, my dear.” Although he was smooth with it, he internally admitted your attempt in catching him off guard was successful.

— REN KAJI | A pout has been tugging his lips all morning. Ever since you came along with him on patrol, you felt the grumpy aura he emitted despite him acting all nonchalant with it. Little did you know that he was sulking. When he came to pick you up this morning, he reached out a hand to hold yours when you turned back to retrieve something; when he considered to lend you his headphones, you bumped into Sakura and the gang; when he reattempted to hold your hand, Lisa came jumping into your arms. He was fuming. Thankfully, at the end of the day, you realized. “Ren?” He looked at you silently, waiting for you to continue as he rolled the sucker in his mouth. “Can you take the candy out real quick, please?” He was confused, but complied either way. With that, you leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips, before pulling back with a fond smile. He was confused yet again, but this time, he wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled into the crook of your neck, relishing in the feeling of finally being able to hold you.

— HAJIME UMEMIYA | Today was a gardening date, where you'd help him out with his garden at the rooftop. Like usual, he proudly exclaims how the plants have grown fast and healthy. It was like seeing a proud father boasting about his children. His smile when he held up two pots of tomatoes was brighter than the sun that was shining upon the both of you, and it was endearing to the point where you couldn't help it anymore. You quickly cupped his face and pressed your lips against his before pulling back and saying, “My sweet, gardener boyfriend.” He immediately placed down the pots, almost dropping them before swooping you up in his arms and twirling you in the air.

— JO TOGAME | You looked up at the sky, hearing cracks of fire as it bloomed into colorful sparks. After strolling through stalls and winning prizes, the festival's main occasion finally made its arrival. Turning to your boyfriend next to you, you tugged at his sleeve and called out to him quietly, “Jo…” gesturing that you had something to say. Just as he leaned down to listen, you gently pulled his face and connected your lips to his. He didn't see that coming, but he wasn't going to complain as he wasted no time and melted into the kiss– pulling you closer by the waist and savoring this sweet moment under the flashing fireworks that lit up the sky above.

— MITSUKI KIRYU | Nothing wrong with taking a break from your small screen gadgets and entertain yourself with something slightly more traditional. Other than the games on his phone, Kiryu was surprisingly good at the ones at the arcade as well. From basketball toss to Pac-Man, you both competed on who could earn the most tickets. Of course, he was taking the lead. He was currently focused on the spinning light, calculating the right moment to press the button and hit the jackpot. When suddenly you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, causing him to lose focus and accidentally push down the button, missing the awaited jackpot. “Hey, that was cheating.” He still won in the end, but gave his tickets to you anyway.

— CHIKA TAKIISHI | He always looked so aloof– like there were no literal fucks he'd seriously give, and everything others say were just a broken TV's buzzing. Oddly enough, you found that trait to be adorable. Sometimes, you find yourself gazing and staring at his majestic self as he looks off into somewhere or nowhere, holding the familiar empty gaze you've grown used to. He was like an innocent, introverted child during a family gathering– the ones who choose to space off and act cold to those who tried to approach or tease him. The sight was so irresistibly cute, you couldn't help yourself but to squeeze his cheeks between your palms and press a quick kiss on his cheek. “You're so CUTE!” He remained unfazed and gave no reaction, but slithered an arm around your waist and pulled you closer.

— AKIHIKO NIREI | Seeing and hearing him yap about the things he took interest in has always been a trait of his that you found endearing. And right now, you couldn't help but marvel at the way he was so passionate about something to the point of writing it down in his notebook. You listened to it all– nodding and throwing in responses here and there to keep the conversation going. In the middle of his babbling, you leaned forward and gave a quick peck on his forehead. “And then what happened?” you asked innocently afterwards like it was nothing. Meanwhile he was left a stuttering, blushing, and questioning mess of a nerd.

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nopanamaman · 21 days ago

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What’s the deal with Tsar and Arthur?

Today we’ll look at the two most popular members of Sanya and Yura’s friend group, Tsar and Arthur, a.k.a. Anger Management. How did they meet? What’s their life like? And most importantly, why the hell are they so angsty?

Let’s start with the older one.

Arthur Sokolov

Joining the orphanage

Arthur was brought to the orphanage not long after being born. He never met any of his parents.

Growing up in a state-funded shelter meant developing a clear understanding of what kinds of behaviours will and won’t result in getting your shit kicked in. You can’t be too cocky, and you can’t be too weak. Follow the hierarchy, but don’t let your fear of elders show.

Arthur learned to navigate that little society well. He had earned respect among kids his own age and younger, and avoided being pushed around by the older teenagers too much. Less due to a noble heart and more because of being too proud to act like a doormat.

However, that didn't make him immune to peer pressure.

Correctional psychiatry

Business trip.

Many low-end orphanages across the former USSR had been essentially transformed into incubators for future gang members. “Businessmen”, either by bribe or threat, came to these institutions to recruit impressionable children into their organisations. One such uncle visited Arthur’s foster home.

For kids like him, the course of action was simple:

misbehave;

get sent to a mental institution for corrective treatment;

sneak as many bottles of trihexyphenidyl as you can into your bag during your stay;

leave the hospital as normal;

transfer the trihexyphenidyl to a gang representative and get your paycheck.

Under that business model, Arthur became a frequent guest at psychiatric wards. Having witnessed their indifference and medical callousness firsthand, he had developed a massive disdain for all kinds of mental health professionals.

It started even before joining the gang, of course – way before. It’s hard not to foster a vendetta when you get thrown to the looney bin for any misstep. At first he tried to honestly convince the doctors working there that he was fine, but he eventually realised it was futile: they were always in on the punishment.

Hustling continues

Arthur and Ivan at 15 and 17 respectively.

As Arthur grew older, he got more deeply involved with the gang’s activities alongside other kids. This meant participating in transfers, standing watch during certain deals, acting as a “treasure man” (i.e. hiding drugs in agreed upon places for clients to pick up), and so on. Fights were frequent.

He knew it was a slippery slope, but getting out was not an option – not an easy one, at least. This was the period during which he grew close to Ivan, who was commonly assigned to work with Arthur and other children from their institute.

They bonded on the basis of wanting to leave the business, though for different reasons: most of all, Ivan didn’t want to disappoint his grandma.

Getting out

First meeting with Yura.

The sudden disbandment of the gang was a relief to both Ivan and Arthur. A major member got caught and ratted almost everyone out, except for the dozens of orphans involved. So while Ivan went to turn himself in, Arthur got to walk free.

Before going, Ivan suggested Arthur replace him at his pop’s car repair salon. The boy seemed to have a knack for fixing things, and the two had developed a trusting relationship over their time working together.

While everything was looking fine, Arthur still wanted to destroy all traces of his activities - even those that couldn’t reasonably be tracked down to him. This led to him encountering Yura. Despite the very rocky start of their acquaintance, they went on to hang out together pretty regularly.

As of today, Arthur continues to do part-time at the workshop alongside Ivan. Both are committed to never getting back into the criminal business. Unless you count Sanya's Dynamo. Which you shouldn't. Having experienced what actual gangs are like, Arthur finds it hard not to look down at the girl's little roleplay.

Tsar

Joining the orphanage

Before coming to the orphanage, Tsar lived with his grandma. She died when he was 6. Since his parents had lost their parental rights due to alcoholism a couple years prior, there was only one place for him to go.

Tsar had a very hard time adjusting to the rigid hierarchy of the foster home. He was lucky enough to catch Arthur's attention and, in a sense, got scooped under his wing. The boy disliked relying on the older kid too much, but was too weak to stand on his own.

Gang involvement

How come mom lets you have two trips to the mental ward

Since Arthur got dragged into gang activities earlier than Tsar, the younger kid felt jealous. He, like most other children, fully bought into the romanticised idea of criminal life that was pushed by the uncles visiting the orphanage.

But as years went on, he saw the toll it had begun to take on Arthur. Tsar had taken a couple of correctional trips to mental wards as well, though he'd never participated in any illegal schemes. Those times were bad enough - he couldn't imagine going there again and again on purpose.

By the time Tsar would be old enough to get recruited into the business, Arthur forbade him from it. The kid still wanted to join to prove his worth, to earn his share, to show his guts. But his trust and respect for Arthur were stronger.

As much as he hated the idea, he stuck to the sidelines.

Contact with parents

Teatime with family.

Tsar’s parents reached out to him a couple years after he was transferred to the orphanage. He could only meet with them under supervision up until he was 13 years old. Afterwards they were allowed private meetings.

Today, he occasionally comes to visit them at their apartment. They still drink, but to Tsar, they just seem quiet and pitiful. He usually lends them the pocket money he receives from the orphanage. He knows they won't return it.

Anger Management

Ural models are known for their incredible durability and a baffling number of switches.

Tsar found a creative release in music and wrote songs to vent his frustrations. The orphanage had an old acoustic guitar that he learned to play, but it got completely broken when the boy was 13. After Arthur joined the workshop, he bought a black Ural from Ivan’s dad for cheap, upgraded its port, and gifted it to Tsar.

As it turned out, Ivan’s dad was hopping from one band to another in the 80s-90s, so he was happy to accommodate the kids' creative endeavours. He allowed them to use the spare garage space to practise and even supplied an incomplete drum set.

Tsar begged Arthur to back him up with drums. The latter begrudgingly agreed to learn them, but ended up really enjoying hitting barrels with sticks. Right now their band has a tiny local following, mostly in the face of Sanya Kazarina.

Some notes

I remember sitting down and reading about actual orphanage experiences in the post-soviet space – it was eye-opening, but also gave me a lot of material to work with, as heartless as that probably sounds. A lot of things simply clicked into place.

I didn't go into too much detail here, but FYI, I've downplayed the severity of certain situations. Trauma aside, I'd say both Tsar and Arthur got quite lucky in the end.

#fixed some awkward wording from the patreon version so hopefully it reads better now #cw alcoholism #cw child abuse #cw medical malpractice #parties are for losers #deepest lore #loredump #bg gang #anger management #arthur #tsar #ivan #yura #sanya #myart #scraps

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nouearth · 3 months ago

Text

“'TILL WE SEE STARS”

zane phillips, nico greetham, drew starkey, taylor zakhar perez, tom holland, and oliver stark x male reader.

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓— fic [ 14.7k ] 〳 part one

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒—male reader〳make sure to read part one!〳established relationship 〳 collage!au 〳jealous!zane 〳 sexual content: everyone is a top, bottom!reader, cum dumpster!reader, double penetration, gang bang, rough!sex, kissing, spitting, breeding, cumplay, bukkake, blowjobs, handjobs, praising, body worshipping, lots and lots of filthy sex!

You didn’t notice right away.

In your defense, Zane had always been exceptionally distracting, and that would only become harder to refute since you’d been something to him.

Rephrase that—someone.

Someone special, someone of importance, someone that meant something.

You’ve had doubts. Who wouldn’t when even your own friends looked at you with such bewilderment upon introducing him to the small group. Nerds and Jocks don’t mix; a childish verity you and your friends held with high regard since being hit in the face with a ball happened one too many times to brush those instances off as mere coincidences. That, and your snickering high school classmates would since provide you a whole new perspective on that matter.

But you went on to prove your friends wrong, prove that your doubts were meager tricks that only persisted to keep you from exploring out of your comfort zone—from living life to its fullest possibilities. The house that had once shielded you from all cruelties the world and its inhabitants brought with them began to crumble from its residence on a clifftop. Parts that made up the foundation sacrificed themselves in pursuit to bring you home. Wood, stone, red bricks; they catapulted into the ocean, swam on the surface, floated for air, and dived in the deep sea. Farther and farther, they searched for you, hopeful for any signs of life that signaled for your immediate rescue.

Instead, what they found was baffling.

It was you, but it wasn’t you at the same time. Something changed—this growing assurance in your disposition, holding onto a man, large and more than capable to protect, a threat to the house that had kept you safe since birth.

Betrayal, what happened to my son? My boy? My sweet boy?

You could hear the rage in their authoritative voice, but you’ve grown to realize their awful cadence had only been a tactic for you to come back—come back to them—to scare you into being the perfect boy they’ve raised you to be.

Every kiss from the man ignited a fire within you. He forged you with strength, with fortification, with affection—and you uttered a strong defiance, then watched the foundation disintegrate before your very eyes, piece by piece.

***

There was always so much care in Zane’s palms, yet he’d proven you to be exceptionally attentive when he was upset. Like he was trying to persuade you from deviating too far into his worries.

It was embarrassing to admit how long it took for you to piece it altogether—why he was often in a mood, or why he was adamant in making you stay the night at his apartment. You never pondered about it for too long as it never amounted to much. All it took was a night in his bed, watching his favorite shows, kissing and fondling to take his mind off of what was festering inside, and everything returned back to normal. A stressful day at work or practice, you’d reckon as you watched him sleep on your chest, his gentle snores beckoning you to your slumber.

But you began noticing a pattern. It happened every Thursday and Friday. You’d come to his place after tutoring, and he would greet you by the entrance with the most fulfilling kiss. Grappled by his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest, and your lips raptured by his.

“Well, greetings to you too! I brought dinner.”

“That can wait… I missed you,” he would say before swooping you off your feet and fleeing with you into his bedroom.

At the least provocation, he’d proven all too willing to lick into your mouth and shove his greedy hands beneath your shirt. It was a growing tendency that you weren’t inclined to draw to a close because frankly—there was nothing to complain about, other than the cold takeout.

As observant as you usually were, you blamed yourself for not puzzling Zane’s growing possessiveness to your tutoring sooner.

Or maybe you were turning a blind eye, because you anticipated the magnificent nights he’d bestow on you. On those nights, Zane was especially keen to make you take all of him—every inch, every seed, every feeling.

“Swallow it all. I don’t want to see a drop left, baby.” “M-mmfngh—“

All in all, it was beginning to become clear that those days were bothering him. You could feel the tension in the air, the heaviness in your gut as Zane swelled inside of you for the second time of the night, two days in a row.

It was beyond the fact that you tutored—he was fine with that.

It was who you were tutoring.

On Thursdays, you could feel his delusional need to investigate who’d been in your mouth. Tom? Oliver? Taylor? He would suckle on your tongue until you reeled back for a breath, and even then, he wouldn’t stop licking into your mouth.

On Fridays, his hands wouldn’t leave your body. They covertly searched high and low, back to front, squeezing, pulling, roaming, pushing, for any marks, for any evidence of Nico’s presence, of Drew’s marks—but the only blemishes were Zane’s from the day before. A love bite to your neck, and another one to the left of your hip bone.

No one.

You both knew it was the truth—your loyalty to him, but Zane was a madman who was being fed with delusions beyond your control, and in turn, it gifted you the most passionate lover only you could’ve fantasized in novels.

“Oh, g-god. Right there. Don’t go faster, Zane. Don’t slow down. Just like that—“ “Yeah? You like my cock wrecking your pretty hole? Just. Like. That?”

***

“Would it make you feel better if you were with me?” you mentioned out of the blue, the show you two had been watching finally rolled the credits.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Zane averted his gaze toward you, blindly reaching for the remote and switching the TV off. Then, he pulled you closer into his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. His nose buzzed with delight at the scent of your shampoo.

“Well…” he watched you ponder—your gaze avoidant and wandering unlike the abrupt tension he felt in your body. He opened his arm out of concern, allowing you to properly gather yourself with the newfound space. You sat up and resumed explaining carefully, “I know you don’t like it when I’m… with your friends—alone. Embarrassingly enough, it just hit me—and… well, you seem off these days. And I think it’s because of that.”

It was like being caught in a lie. Not one of those major ones that Zane knew he would commit from beginning to end, but a white lie—a vaulted truth to spare your feelings, even if it meant that it was festering and poisoning him on the inside.

It was an unspoken promise. A natural response. A firm conviction that he should bear your troubles and worries in solitude.

After all, he was your boyfriend, your protector.

“What? Babe—no, what? Have I been acting different? I don’t know. I guess work’s gotten busier, so I guess that could explain…” He was teetering on the edge of revelation or secrecy, stammering until he was one step away from falling.

Zane was never a great liar.

“Come on. You can be honest. Is it because you don’t trust me? Because we study at the library and—“

“No, I absolutely trust you. Don’t say that.”

“I mean, it’s probably weird for me to be hanging out with them—in a way. It makes sense that you’d want to be there, so I get it if you feel hurt or disappointed or—“

“Babe, it’s not—“

“They’re your friends, not mine. I mean, I don’t think they see me as a friend anyway? I’m their tutor, and that’s how it should be…”

“(M/N), wait a second—“

Your hands were theatrical. Grandiose. If you had a symphony playing with you, they’d be performing with fervor, sweating until the grasp on their instruments had slipped at the nearing crescendo, and the audience would gasp altogether to fill the void of abrupt silence.

“I promise, Zane. All I do is give them assignments, like I did with you—well, not like I did with you. We were a little different, weren’t we… but with them? I-it’s like how I tutor everyone else and…!“

You suddenly stood up from the couch, clearly exasperated by the lack of words that could properly support your claims.

“Hey, hey…” he quelled you with a gentle tug to your hand, silently urging you back to his side with a consoling grin. You huffed, sucking in what he could presume to be more self-destructing words, and dramatically let the tension on your shoulders push your body onto his lap.

It wasn’t the right moment to notice, but would you kill him if he felt more inclined to annoy you in the future if this was how charming you always looked? The answer would probably be no. You had a tendency to forgive—a little too easily.

“Then what’s wrong? Is it my fault? Over-cooked your chicken? Ate your protein bar without asking? Got a stain on your hoodie, but I think I washed it out…?” Frowning, you stared back up at him through your eyelashes, chin sunken to your chest, and completely hopeless.

For a moment, he was speechless. It always took one glance from you for Zane to lose his train of thought. Even when you felt all kinds of emotions, there was still that glint in your eyes that never failed to make his heart feel like it was about to burst.

“Kinda is your fault. I mean, if you hadn’t been born with that handsome face of yours, or been blessed with brains and kindness, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Be serious!” Zane felt your body tense up again. You were about to pull yourself off his lap before he rested a hand to your chest and gently pushed you back. “So, there is a problem…”

“It’s my problem, (M/N),” he began soothing your chest in small circles. The cotton soft in his palm before it was inevitably delighted with the firmness of your chest when he slipped a hand under your shirt, resuming his caress.

“I might not have a lot of experience in dating, but I’ve watched a lot of films to know that partners help each other when either one of them have a problem.”

Guilt was quickly catching up to him. Zane could feel its presence looming over his head. Like smog, heavy and thick, and even if it had waned into thin air—completely obliterated to the back of his mind—Zane was confident he would be suffering from the ramifications of it in the future.

“God… what am I going to do with you,” he dipped forward and buried his head into your body, using your shirt to muffle his conflicted groans.

It was those eyes of yours again. He couldn’t bear to face you with the secrets he’d been withholding, but he was already in this predicament. Ignoring it, even after being called out on his behavior, would just make things worse than if he would just tell you the truth.

He waited for seconds. Then seconds turned into minutes. Then those remaining minutes were spent sighing at the softest strokes you brushed through his hair, to occupy the silence, or to break the tension between you two. Either way, his heart felt heavier despite your comforting attempts.

With a mutter, Zane turned his head towards you and looked truthfully into your eyes, “Yeah, I’m jealous.”

You immediately perked up to join him at his side again, taking his hand into yours, “Zane, I promise—nothing happens…”

“No, I know, (M/N). I trust you. I mean, what can I say? I miss you. Our schedule isn’t aligning like I thought it would, and it feels like I’m seeing you less since you’ve taken Tom, Drew, Taylor… all of them for tutoring.”

“I can cut back? Maybe arrange the meetings to fit your schedule, and that way we can—“

“No, absolutely not. I’m not going to be that type of boyfriend.”

“Well, I can’t just sit here and watch you suffer.” Zane watched you play with his fingers, clamping your hand to his, then unclasping as his thoughts prolonged another silence.

“You have no idea, (M/N). I… God, it’s all fucked up.” He rubbed his face to comfort himself, groaning into his palms before taking your hands into his again.

Nothing calmed him more than simply holding you.

“What? It’s just about us not spending enough time together, right? Maybe I’m too optimistic, but that seems like something that can be easily resolved…”

“No—I mean, yes. That’s the problem, but it isn’t the main problem…”

“Then… what is?”

From the corner of his eye, he watched you physically brace yourself, straightening your posture like the suspense had been literally killing you and your insides. You took one deep exhale, preparing yourself for the worst while Zane fished for his phone, and scrolled through his messages.

He began explaining.

Taking tutoring lessons was the last thing on the team’s mind. For Zane and Nico, it was a simple affair. Their grades were dropping like flies, and their coach didn’t like the sight of that, or the consequences that would follow. If they didn’t take their grades seriously, how could Coach trust them to lead the team? How can they lead the team with discipline—if they severely lacked it themselves? Zane was warned of this predicament for multiple semesters, and it was only recently when he began taking it seriously.

He’d never received a letter from his coach before, and as laughably traditional as it was, he’ll forever remember the sinking feeling in his chest when he read the last paragraph of his coach’s handwriting:

Fix your grades by the end of the semester, or you’re out. No more second chances. You’re great, but not that great for me to put your future in jeopardy. Sorry, I should’ve been harder on you.

Without much arguing, he did as he was told. Week by week, month by month, Zane and Nico’s grades improved tremendously, and the threat of being kicked off the wrestling team was delayed for another semester. However, as much as the guys were impressed by their success, Zane couldn’t owe the credit to solely himself. You were a major part of his triumphant journey, and the team would since become greatly fond of you and your saving contributions to the group.

Maybe it was inspiring to watch Zane and Nico dig themselves out of a rut, an underdog story that everyone loved rooting for in the movies. Or maybe it was some kind of unspoken brotherhood, where if one was struggling, then the other would join them in their agony to establish some type of rapport. Because soon after, Zane’s teammates found themselves in an awfully similar situation to him and solicited your service.

But Zane knew his teammates.

Zane knew that this decision was completely out of left field. Taylor, Tom, Drew, Oliver; it was strange to see all of them suddenly feel the need to seek out a tutor—specifically you out of all the available people—to help them with their studies.

It was odd to listen to them complain that their grades had been dropping, apparently lower and lower with every passing week.

And again, Zane knew his teammates.

He spent every waking second with them since they’d met each other as freshmen; aligned every course with the guys so he’d come into class knowing at least one person; visited each other’s house on semester breaks because why the hell not—it was on the drive home. For god’s sake, all of their parents knew the team by government name, siblings if they had any, and even their own aspirations in life.

They were teammates, but they were also best friends.

So, Zane had every right to call this entire arrangement as bullshit.

They weren’t struggling with their grades. Tom and Taylor were honor students. Oliver was a teaching assistant. Drew was interning for a marketing firm that made Zane’s eyes hurt when he snooped through Drew’s emails, and looked at the qualifications for the rather imposing position.

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

They were fucking with him.

Or to better clarify—trying to fuck with you.

Trying to fuck you.

It was Zane’s fault. He wasn’t clear that he was actually serious about his relationship with you, and that unlike his previous relations, there was no sharing with the team. All hands were off—should be off—and the only ones you’d be holding were Zane’s.

No.

That didn’t sound right.

It was their fault. It had to be their fault. They were the ones talking about you like they had never seen a pretty boy in their life, like they had never seen a man sharing this dreadful place we call Earth. A man with those pretty eyes, smiling with that pretty mouth, frowning with those pretty cheeks, typing with those pretty hands—the team would practically brand you as theirs with every session they’d return from studying with you, and they boasted about it all to Zane’s face.

Maybe it was his fault after all.

Zane loved bragging about you. It wasn’t something he often did with his previous partners, but something about you changed him. Zane loved showing your selfies off to his friends. One day he’d marvel how soft your lips were, the next he’d go on a tangent about what an incredibly kind person you were for finding someone’s lost dog. It was all arbitrary. As long as it was framed around you, the topics bounced from your looks to your body to your personality, and to his surprise, his friends would chime in too.

Increasingly more, as they would get to know you following every meeting.

The worst part was that Zane allowed it to happen and found himself encouraging this behavior he was scrutinizing. The group chat was complete evidence of his participation, and with every message, he could physically feel the jury slipping out of his favor.

Drew: I shouldn’t have doubted you, Zane. There’s something about your boy’s eyes…

Tom: Oh god. Does he always look at you like that, Zane? I don’t know how you can handle it. I have to physically hold my crotch to keep myself from coming in my pants.

Taylor: Can we talk about his lips, though? They’re so plump. I couldn’t help but stare at them. He does that cute thing where he chews on his lip when he’s grading.

Oliver: I wonder what he does when his mouth is filled. Zane? Care to give us a hint, please? Or shall we give him a visit and demo for ourselves…?

Zane: Hm, I’ll just say that… (M/N)’s learning very quickly on how to breathe through his nose and relax his throat. Though, that doesn’t stop the noises from coming out of his mouth.

Nico: Always had a thing for nerds… He suck you off with his glasses on or no?

Zane: On.

Drew: Oh, c’mon…

Taylor: Shit. I’m getting hard.

Tom: Fuck. Me too.

Nico: Lucky bastard… It should’ve been me!

Oliver: Never mind. This is so much better than what I could’ve imagined.

Zane laid it all out onto the table for you. His phone was a bar of gold in your hand as you scrolled and read through the messages pertaining you between him and his friends. The more recent the texts were, the more explicit and brazen.

Taylor talked about a dream that he had of you, where you allowed him to kiss you wherever he pleased if he got a question right. This was as innocent it would get. His hand would be shoved into your pants while he would kiss at your neck, licking into your whimpers.

Tom texted about the random hard-ons he’d sport when he was with you. Something as simple as watching you lick your lips was enough to get him off for the night.

Drew daydreamed about you giving him a hand job in the library. The rush of being nearly caught, and the flood of embarrassment blooming on your neck and face resulted him coming within your fist. You’d hover your free hand beneath his cock, to catch the flood of cum, because you were a kind person who didn’t want to make a public mess. And because you were such a kind person, you’d slurp his cum off your palm, right then and there, before Drew’s very eyes.

Nico was the most yearning. Perhaps it was because he always played second fiddle to Zane’s leadership, and that reflected onto his fantasies, but he missed hearing your praises. Praises that consisted of how good he was at solving this problem; how proud you were when he went out of his way to do more problems than what was assigned to him; how nice he felt when he pushed his warm cock inside of you for the first time. You’d overwhelm him with so many compliments, so many kind words, that it wouldn’t take much for him to come inside of you.

Oliver was a brazen man. He spoke without thought, without a filter, and if it came to Zane’s decision, he would want to publish a book full of Oliver’s lewd fantasies about you. He wanted to fuck you. Point blank period. It wasn’t up for debate. He would make you take him in the car if he could. Bent over the backseat, while he pounded into you out in the parking lot, or maybe in the woods if you preferred seclusion. And when he was done with you, he’d leave you there dripping, inhaling another smoke to work up another appetite, as if the image of his cum leaking out of you and down your legs hadn’t strung up his cock like a puppet with every passing second.

“It’s a lot, I know,” Zane’s voice broke you from the spell that was his friends’ fantasies. You blinked rapidly to ward off the explicit images festering. He was reading them with you, the illusions silently feeding you and him simultaneously. “Listen, if you want to call it quits, I understand. But I just—I love… seeing them talk about you like that. It makes me… so proud. Powerful—knowing that they can’t ever lay their hands on you, as long as I’m in the picture.”

“But… you said you were jealous? I don’t understand—” You fidgeted uncomfortably against him. Zane took no mind to it, especially since you seem to be taking the information better than he’d thought, but your constant squirming was beginning to be a cause of concern. He blindly opened his arm for you, allowing you to snuggle into his side.

“Yeah, well… I guess riling your friends up and feeding into their fantasies has some consequences. I like it when they talk about you to me, but… I don’t know, I guess I imagine what they would do to you if you were alone with them and it makes me worried, yet aroused? It’s… confusing, I know. I don’t get it either—Babe, are you okay? You keep moving.“

“No, continue—it’s just—“ you groaned, pressing closer to his side and crossing your legs. “Is that why you’ve been extra affectionate? I mean, you always have been, but I swear, I think we have sex almost every day—or is that normal? Not that I don’t love it. I don’t want you to get tired of me or something.”

“First off, never going to happen. I could never get tired of you. And… it might be normal depending on who you’re asking… Might be our new normal, if I’m being honest. I can’t help that you’re so irresistible—okay, what’s going on—” For a couple more seconds, Zane endured you fiddling with the blanket on your lap before suddenly tugging it off and freeing you of your agony, or whatever was the reason of your constant writhing.

He glanced down at your lap, and your reflex was quick to hide it—whatever was near your pelvis. It was hard seeing you in the dark with the TV and his phone switched off. The moonlight filtered through the blinds on his windows, but it was only enough to highlight parts of your face, not enough to illuminate the entire living room.

Without a warning, Zane reached in between your thighs and frisked whatever that had come into contact with his palm. He raised an eyebrow at the sudden hitch of your breath, feeling nothing but the leather of the couch in his palm—until he moved it higher, toward your lack of an attempt at shielding, and pushed your hand aside.

“Oh,” it didn’t take long to guess what was in the palm of his hand. He could trace the shape of it in his sleep if he was asked to. Write the exact measurements as he recalled numerous nights with you if he was quizzed on it, even if majority of his calculations relied on his grip.

Zane knew you very well, and he especially knew what he was squeezing—gently kneading until those familiar sounds poured out of you like freshly squeezed orange juice.

Ah, there it was.

It was his boy’s cock.

“Don’t get mad—“ you warned, pausing Zane’s kneads with a gentle grasp, but he persisted, only challenging the tightness in your shorts in the end.

“Why would I be mad? You’re not mad?” his voice traveled ticklishly to your ear. He’d pulled you closer, whispering while his hand was all synonyms of tantalizing.

“Is it wrong to say that I’m not? Is this was what you felt like…? I’m confused and horny, and it’s all a mess, Zane…” you groaned when his hand into the leg opening, eagerly reaching for your stiff arousal.

“God, sorry—let’s just… talk about this later. Fuck, come on.”

“Y-yeah, good idea.”

***

“They never heard yours.”

It was cool and lulling—the baby wipe Zane was cleaning you down with. Just when you thought Zane couldn’t have gotten more attractive, the concentrated look on his face while he wiped the sweat and sticky residue off your torso made your flaccid cock twitch, his biceps bulging like they were still strenuous from holding you against the wall a few minutes prior.

Zane raised a curious brow at your vagueness and your renewed arousal altogether before chucking the wipes in a bin and tucking himself to your side. “What do you mean?”

At the advance of his arms around your waist, you turned in your position to face him, pulling him close by the hips. “Your fantasy. They all told you about theirs, but you never did. Just makes me curious… on what yours is?”

Zane pondered, his thumb pondering with him as it chased after an internal beat, a rhythm over your lower back. In the meantime, you surveyed his face, like you always did post-sex. His moles were attractive, his eyebrows and lips deliciously full, and his eyes—beautiful windows to his beautiful soul.

You were the luckiest man on earth.

“You can’t judge me, all right?”

He jolted you back from your studying, an uncertain air emanating from his disposition.

You took his cheek in your hand and squeezed him with assertion. “I would never!”

Your constant kneading made him loosen up. He exhaled deep, looking dubious, but compiled trust into your eyes in the end—because it was just a fantasy, right?

One.

BIg.

Fucking.

Dream.

Finally, Zane confessed.

“Gangbang…”

“Oh…!”

***

Zane didn’t know what to expect. He had to admit that you looked uneasy when he brought up the topic of having a safe word. As basic as it was, the traffic light system was ideal as vanilla as it was, especially for something as daunting as someone’s first gangbang.

Plus, you were getting a little too creative with the safe words.

“What about… peanut butter cup..?” “Eh… think that’s a little too long, babe.” “Ghost!” “You might freak Tom out. He apparently had an ‘apparition’ back at his grandma’s house.” “Sheep?” “Sounds like ‘shit,’ which can be misconstrued as “shit, keep fucking me!"” “Hm… pickle?” “Gross! You know I hate pickles!” “You don’t eat words, Zane!”

As hopeful and convincing Zane could be, the last thing he would’ve thought was you agreeing to this—without much hesitation too, might he add.

“Can you move okay?” Zane stepped aside for you to walk from one end of his bedroom to the other. It wasn’t much distance, but it wasn’t like you needed an ample amount of space to begin with.

You took the open floor to demonstrate your ability to walk. It seemed simple enough. You did it every day. One foot after the other, step by step, leisurely and calmly and—

“Oh—“ you stiffened after the first step and froze in place. One leg methodically moved back and forth to gauge the restrictive mobility. “It feels a little… tight?”

“We can go a size smaller, but it should be a little uncomfortable. Plus, you’re not going to be walking much? Hopefully…” Zane calmly reasoned, maneuvering you like a mannequin. His hand was searching high and low for any physical indications that a butt plug was lodged inside of you—pressing when the flange toy protruded a centimeter more than he had liked.

Your breath hitched and then you shook your head, deciding the size was adequate adequate enough, and resumed walking normally. One couldn’t have noticed any oddities, as long as they ignored the rigidness of your posture.

The feeling came out of the blue—you wanted to impress them. After all, you were the star of the night. Zane’s confession had been simmering in your thoughts for a few days, especially one comment when he described how powerful he felt knowing his friends wanted you, but couldn’t have you.

You wanted to make Zane proud. If the humblest of all brags turned his friends into complete brutes, you couldn’t imagine how they would act when they all have had a turn to explore your body inside and out, and never again. Dogs. Monsters. Yet they’d worship every sovereign step that Zane would take like they were indebted to his graciousness, like they were his men of labor, all for one more night with you again.

You wanted more than to make Zane proud. You wanted to make him feel like a king.

Three knocks at the door, and the long-awaited fantasy was a door away from becoming a reality. You tailed stiffly after Zane, the kiss he quickly granted you before jogging to the entrance like a spell to your pursuit—like a hex to the tension Zane knew all-so-well.

Zane looked back once more, a nod of assurance padded by a bright smile, and you exhaled out the tightness in your chest.

Let the party begin.

***

“Let’s make it… easier for you, babe. Warm you up instead of abruptly starting?”

“Yeah—that sounds fine to me.”

“You’ll spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on can initiate the first step. No more than a minute. Then, you’ll spin the bottle again—second person goes, so-on and so-on. Sound good? More organized that way, right? And you can get a feel of everyone’s… vibes without it being overwhelming. Fellas? Any objections?”

“Sounds good to me, Zane.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeap.”

“Mm-hm.”

“No complaints here.”

The slower the bottle spun, the faster your heart beat. Your eyes moved from one man to the next, as if you were the empty beer bottle itself. The group formed a circle in the middle of the living room, small but enough to accommodate for seven men: You, Zane, Taylor, Oliver, Nico, Tom, and Drew; in that order of the circumference. Other than the guys catching up with you—small talk about your tutoring, their assignments, dinner, new dogs, and whatnot—conversations were kept to a minimum.

All seven of you knew why you were here altogether, and they weren’t keen on drawing it out for any longer.

“You guys just came back from the gym?” Zane asked after taking a sip of his beer. You reached for his bottle, feeling parched, and he passed it to you with a composing grin, lingering to watch your expression sour as the bubbles tickled your throat.

“Yeah—was going to hit the showers, but then we would’ve been late,” Taylor explained, and the rest of the guys nodded in between sips of their beers, comically attentive to the slowing bottle. You took a silent whiff of the heavy musk radiating off of the five men; your dick twitched.

“Oh shit, who’s it gonna be?! First stud of the night!” Tom bowed his body forward and began drumming the floor in faux suspense. You laughed and joined in on the increasing drum rolls, the others including yourself finding his anticipation infectious as laughter spread amongst the group like a virus—the seven pairs of hands drumming on the floor altogether being part of the symptom.

There was nothing to be worried about, was there?

This was going to be fun.

A blast.

A bang.

The bottle slowed, passing pairs of bare feet in its rotation. Multiple postures straightened as if they could compel gravity to direct the bottle towards them, but then Drew’s slumped when it passed him, then Taylor’s, and a domino effect of lost hope was rippled—all except for one.

A chorus of oohs broke out when it stopped on Nico—Zane’s right-hand man. It must’ve been an inside joke between all six of them because Oliver made a comment about how Nico was finally having his moment, and they all erupted into another fit of laughter, cutting the tension in the air one chuckle at a time.

“You’re up!” Zane beckoned with a nod. You took another glance at him, nothing of concern, but rather to alleviate his own worries by the way he suddenly gathered his hold on your hand, and then pecked him on the lips and cheek. He smiled, returning the peck onto your lips before whispering into your ear, “Show ‘em what a lucky man I am.”

“Whew, all right..!” Nico propped himself up with a hop.

Nico made his way towards you and pulled you to the middle of the circle. Even knowing that you read his messages, he still carried that dashing smile like it was a weapon. One that regularly caused destruction on many hearts, one that charged your own like it was a battery—you just now discovered how disruptive dimples could be.

He was a sly man. Two-faced even, and you anticipated to discover this other side of him that he’d been reluctant to show.

“Hi—again,” Nico whispered through a smile. You found it charming how he couldn’t contain his glee. Dimple to dimple, they were like two separate smiles of their own, bracketing the salient beam from widening any further.

You wanted to peek over at Zane when Nico pressed his nose to yours, taunting himself—taunting you with the suspense of his soft-looking lips. But Nico’s hand on your nape was absolute and refusing, holding you like you were a weakening star—his dying wish, and made you fix his eyes on him, as he had done for you all this time. “Sorry you had to find out this way, but… I have a crush on you.”

“No—it’s fine. It’s why we’re here, right?” You braced one hand over Nico’s lap and the other on his broad chest. Sturdy, well-defined muscles graced your palm with every caress.

“Yeah… what a way to reciprocate my feelings…”

Slowly, you felt Nico’s breath warm your lips before they were taken hostage by his pair of reds, mirroring the close of his eyes upon noticing. The room fell to a silence, watching like hawks, closing in between the two bodies for front seating of the kiss.

He started gentle; soft lips moving against softer lips, careful to avoid hitting your glasses, your gasps and his groans filling your mouth with fulfillment. One hand of Nico’s maintained on your nape while the other rested on the small of your back, to pull you closer, to feel the skin hidden beneath polycotton. His hand was warm as he roamed; big as he held at nothing but something all at once; inquisitive as his fingers would occasionally dip into the waistband of your shorts.

The longer it goes on, the harder the kiss was. Nico’s mouth was illusive, now hard and abrasive to train your mouth open, and then stay open as he licked into your mouth and explored with his curious tongue. Your ears perked at an envious comment from one of the guys, but it was quickly hushed following the sound of your moans. Nico wrapped his mouth around your tongue and sucked with ardency, mining any possible sounds out of you like they were Earth’s greatest treasure. Your tongue reeled back in growing desire to tick a kink off of Nico’s bucket list, smooching a few more times on the lips, holding his cheek, and then whispering into his warm mouth with a bated breath as his hand halted its lone venture up the opening of your shorts.

“You’re a great kisser, Nico…”

“Time!”

A timer sang from your side, and a web of spit tailed your lips as you pulled away, letting your gaze linger to catch Nico’s heightened arousal in his eyes before returning to your seat.

“Fuck..,” chuckles spread from man to man when Nico returned, exhaling and shaking all sorts of trembles out of his body. Oliver and Tom aided with hard smacks to Nico’s back, sharing the thrill of the kiss simultaneously.

“Was that okay?” You whispered to Zane, fixing your glasses while the rest of the guys debriefed on Nico’s fulfillment. A collection of comments such as, “I’m fucking jealous…”, “Did you see the way he looked at you? Fucking sexy…”, “God, I hope it’s me next,” made you squirm in your seat.

Your mission from all of this was to make Zane proud, but it wouldn’t hurt if you gifted yourself a slight ego-boost in the meantime, right?

“You did… fucking perfect. I think you’re riling them up—riling me up too, actually,” he muttered, briefly maneuvering your hand to demo the boner in his shorts before returning back to his duties as the host. “Okay, settle down! Babe? Next spin, please? Think the team’s getting a little antsy.”

You surveyed the room again. Nico was subtly pushing down on his crotch while Drew, Tom, and Oliver were casual about it, openly massaging themselves through their shorts, their eyes wandering towards you with repose. If you hadn’t had the decency to look away, you could’ve indulged in their thick prints for a little longer.

But duty called. You reached for the bottle and spun it, bating the men with the suspense of who was going to be next in line in warming you up.

The crown of the bottle stopped parallel to Taylor, who was slouched on his elbows like he’d been expecting it—rigged it with his mind if telekinesis was more than hypothetical. He greeted you with provocation, flashing his brows and a smug smile all at once, then a wink, before joining you in the middle. You always found him intimidating. It was probably those eyelashes of his. They were always fluttering, even when you would go over his notes—he would blink and stare once knowing it was effective enough to render you speechless. As naive as it sounded—it felt like Taylor was adept to anything and everything, including whatever he was about to do to you.

And you were absolutely correct in that hypothesis—because Taylor immediately began stripping you down. It was inevitable, but you didn’t expect all of you to be bared within the second spin.

“Seems like Taylor’s on a mission.” Oliver laughed, catching your briefs and taking a whiff at it before passing it to the group. One by one, you watched each person press their nose to the center of your briefs, and inhale. Comments on the smell of your arousal made your dick twitch again. Harder, when Drew and Oliver engrossed themselves in the fine stain of pre-cum and took multiple lingering whiffs in hounding the sweet musk again. You’d think you laced them with some kind of potion—an elixir that amplified their excitement through every vein in their body, from hands to cock.

From head to toe, your clothes came off and were tossed aside, and you let Taylor’s spirit of inquiry explored as he pleased. Sprawling your arms and legs out like he was frisking you, smacking the back of your thighs like he was a butcher examining the quality of fresh meat. You groaned when he loitered at your naked body, noticing the constellation of goosebumps on your chest to the dimples on your backside—all with a glaze of his hand. Taylor’s fingers followed every contour of your body—from spine to muscle—studying you and the smallest reactions you’d spare him with pleased eyes as he smacked, kissed, smoothed, and licked the canvas that was made of skin and bone. You were a sculpture carved by the Renaissance, and Taylor was a curator, assessing your value through the warmth of his mouth, the slick of his tongue, and the kneads of his hands.

“Oh, what do we have here?” His mouth was on your stomach, closely tending to the warm skin with kisses, while his hand was on your rump, prodding at the plug that had been confined in you for the entirety of the day. “Guys, jackpot. (M/N) came with a surprise.”

“I-it wasn’t my idea—“ Heat rose high to your neck when Taylor turned you around and showed your ass off to the ogling group of men. While he was at it, he mind as well brand you with a price tag—right on your ass cheeks, where Taylor smacked each side once, massaging them with a firm knead, and spread you open.

“Holy shit…” Tom muttered while he stood on his knees, taking in the sight of your plugged hole. You impulsively squeezed your thighs together, covering your growing erection at the marveling shared between the six men. There was a wonder in Zane’s expression, resembling the first time he undressed you before his very eyes.

“You like teasing us, don’t you?” Drew said when your glutes tensed, and the room hummed with the soft susurrus of agreement. “Pretty thick ass too, jesus—“

“Time,” Zane stopped the alarm after a ring, sighing in between kneads to his bulge.

Five of the guys collectively groaned from the cliff-hanger while Taylor gave your hard ass a smack in midst of returning to his seat. “See how considerate I can be? You’re welcome, fellas!”

You jolted, gulping at the budding sting. It was becoming a habit to seek for Zane’s approval after every turn, and fortunately you did—because unbeknownst to Taylor, Zane was staring him down, a furious and annoyed look on his face that quickly simmered when he caught your gaze.

“Spin, please.”

The next stop was Tom—Eager Tom. He’d been making comments on your body since he stepped foot inside the apartment, so it was expected that his turn would be based on personal whims. Although, you reckoned that the plug inside of you turned the tides.

Making you kneel on all fours, Tom slowly twisted the plug in and out of you while the group gathered from behind and intimately watched. You clenched at the base, stifling your groans into the back of your hand upon the group’s growing fascination with the sight of your swelling pucker.

“Fuck, look at that pretty rim…” Oliver mumbled, and Tom took it as a hint to trace the border of your hole with his finger, lone yet devious.

“If it looks that appetizing, imagine how it tastes,” Drew covertly suggested.

Tom hummed in thought while toying thoughtlessly with your hole—into your hole. “Not much of an ass-eater, maybe I should hand that task off to someone more capable… What do you think, (M/N)?”

“P-please… anyone is fine—”

As the tip neared its exit, you desperately held onto the last bit of latex that kept you from baring it all—thighs vibrating from the difficulty, toes curling as Tom screwed—but your muscles were as weak as Tom’s patience, and you naturally gave into his tortuous wrenching, clamming up him when he suddenly plunged the plug back into you, then completely bloomed—when Tom finished you off with a tyrannical yank.

“O-oh, god!” You yelped loud as you bared yourself for the group. Deep waves of heat trampled over your body and swam into every course of vein as one person after the other, from Tom to Drew to Nico to Oliver to Taylor to Zane, moaned in chorus at the sight of your budding insides.

Your chest laid flat on the floor, your glasses tossed and forgotten, your hips and ass raised high, your cock throbbed towards the floor—you suddenly buckled your hips when you felt a wad of spit launched directly at your blinking hole.

Then another, and another, and then three consecutive more, until your hole felt completely, and utterly drenched—one from every man you presumed as you laid there, writhing and dripping.

“Fuck, so pretty when it’s glistening like that,” Tom groaned. You could hear fabrics moving, see clothes coming off when you peeked from your position, and your cock throbbed at the smallest glimpse of Tom’s naked body, followed by Oliver’s, and then so on.

“Time,” Zane said again, then a second later rescinded his announcement, rubbing an affectionate hand over your back for you to look up. “Actually, fuck this—baby, you’re okay with us starting now? I don’t think we can handle it anymore… yeah?”

“Y-yeah, no—I can’t wait any longer—oh!” Suddenly, you felt something wet breach your hole. Unrelenting in its expedition as it flicked and wiggled the group’s load of spit inside of you, sliming you up from inside and out.

“Sorry, (M/N). Drew hasn’t had dinner yet—come on, up and at ‘em,” Oliver steered you back on all fours with a rough pull to your shoulders, and knelt himself before you. He pushed your hair back once, admiring the sweat beading over your hairline, the increasingly dismayed look on your face when someone—Taylor—spread and smacked your ass apart for Drew to lick and devour inside you completely. “And neither have you. Open.” You couldn’t even hesitate as Oliver worked at lighting pace. He hooked his thumb into your mouth, pulled it open, spat a thick load of spit where your tongue deftly caught it, and pushed his thick cock into your mouth—all in one neck-braking motion.

“Fuck…” Oliver moaned at the warmth of your mouth. His eyes rolled, but the sight of your lips wrapped around his veiny dick was holier than the overhead lights spotlighting you from above, so he did his best to maintain his composure, working your mouth open with the girth of his cock—slow and steady.

At least Oliver was generous enough to not shove himself down the back of your throat, but still—your throat spasmed nonetheless when he shoved himself deeper with a tug to your nape. Upon the hit to your throat, you abruptly pushed him out with your tongue and a gag, launching into a coughing fit.

“Loosen up on him, will you? He bruises easily,” Zane muttered, noticing Oliver’s fingers turning eggshell-white upon taking your name in his hand. Although, that didn’t stop Zane’s hand from fisting his cock. If anything, it pulsed merrily at the sound of your throat resisting.

“He’ll use his safe words, right? You’re fine? Tell me if you need a break,” As much as Oliver was large and imposing, his body a thick and study mass akin to Zane’s, his eyes were made of sugar. An uncanny color for those soluble carbohydrates, but it was fitting, considering your body melted from the way he looked fondly at you and petted at your cheek. “Pretty.”

“I-I’m fine…” You said with a bated breath and nodded to Oliver with assurance. Then again, when Zane’s hand pushed your hair back and remained on the crown of your head. “I’m fine. Promise.”

“I know. I trust you.” He bent down to soothe the swell of your lips with a lingering kiss before delivering a smack to your ass and pulling away with a renewed disposition. “Suck his cock like how you suck mine. Properly, this time.”

“Fuck—“ Your body propelled forward from the never-ending feast on your puckering hole. Out of curiosity, you peered over your shoulder and instantly found yourself regretting it. It was unavoidable. Your cock leaking in agony, watching Nico, Taylor, and Drew take turns at licking stripes over your hole. Hungry animals.

On Drew’s turn, he caught your gaze in midst of his licks and came to a sudden halt. He then widened his tongue over your crack and with a leaden pace, laved his tongue over your crease like he was cleaning the last bit of crumbs off his plate, smug and teasing in his scheme to make you break.

“No more distractions, yeah? That’s not the way you treat your boyfriend’s friends.” A grappling hook to your nape tore your eyes back to your front, and your mouth was instantly filled again with the heavy weight of Oliver’s musky cock. Your hands were braced on the floor, clutching at nothing but the installed security of wood panels, as Oliver rocked into your mouth. Your cheeks hallowed progressively, adapting to the stretch of your mouth when he tested the depth of your throat numerous times before finally committing and sinking his cock into the back of your mouth, into your throat, with one gratified push.

“Good boy. Hold it, hold it, don’t move. Just relax…” Zane heartened by your right side, reaching in between your legs and fondling with your cock as he’d been doing with his own. Upon the welling of tears, you clamped your eyes shut for comfort, and nearly choked back on your own spit, impulsively squeezing around Oliver’s cock.

“Oh, shit… holy fuck, guys.” Tom was marveling at your left. You peeked your eyes open and caught a glimpse of his hand spit-shining his long, veiny cock, twisting deliciously eager over his plump glans near your temple, the sticky sound of his spit loud and clear in your ear. “Jesus, Zane wasn’t lying when he said you could take dick like no other.”

Oliver’s balls were pressed flush to your chin, your mouth was stuffed into the unshaven hairs of his pubic area, your nostrils was flared from arousal at the salty scent of the dried sweat within vicinity, and your throat was plugged with a glorious amount of thick and heavy cock.

“There we go, that’s it. Good,” Oliver moaned, tenderly massaging your nape while cutting off the supply of oxygen at the same time. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Doing everything we want, huh?”

“Mmfgh!” Your moans muffled in the cramming of his swollen cock as Oliver began patting and squeezing your cheeks, tightening the suction of your mouth by curling his body overhead, and simply pushing deeper.

Swelling harder, throbbing, the longer you endured. You’d learned how to breathe through your nose when it came down to this, but you still had difficulties relaxing your tongue. It wasn’t surprising when ample amounts of saliva began leaking out of your mouth. More spilled out when Oliver pulled you back a centimeter, only for the course of action to halt with another plunge of his cock, somehow sinking deeper down your throat.

“Think he can fit another one?” Nico halfheartedly joked, the last one to crawl over and join the group in their sight-seeing. His cock was hard, veins bulging in a way that made you delirious because Oliver alone was enough to make you overwhelmed in the best way possible.

You couldn’t possibly imagine another cock lodged in.

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, right, babe?” Zane tugged on your cock harder. He pulled at your balls, thumbed the piss-slit, and stroked your shaft with the pre-cum that had been dripping in solitude. “So wet, you’re so fucking wet from being used like this.”

Finally, you were graced with the precious taste of air. Oliver slowly pulled his dick from the depth of your throat, and the group moaned at the sight of your throat simultaneously deflating from its bulge.

Your throat was sore, but it was worth it. Moving your eyes from one man to another, it was finally registering what a dream this was. All of them were exceptionally fit with sweat proudly highlighting their training. All of them sported deliciously thick erections with multiple sights of pre-cum dripping like molasses to taunt you. What was more important was that all of their eyes were on you—something as minuscular as a blink would set them off, and they’d restart the non-existent staring battle between you and the group again.

They were as breathless as you were, and your heart was pumping with the sickening volume of their cocks being cordially stroked, their pecs and biceps brawny and bouncing from the exhilaration you’d been supplying them.

It was fucking worth it.

Under Zane’s conducting, the team flipped you onto your back, cushioning your body with multiple throw pillows, and surrounded themselves around you again, where you could properly watch them pleasure their cocks with the lube Zane had distributed as they kneeled over you. Then, Taylor made the decision for himself to slot his body beneath you, embracing you from behind and using his arms around you to hold your legs and hips back, positioning his freshly lubed cock near your hole.

“You smell good,” Taylor commented at the scent of your cologne, kissing madly into your neck as he found the source. You gulped, feeling him staring again through those eyelashes of his. With one hand, he turned your cheek to face him, his lips nearing and over yours, but never meeting. Lingering, breathing, gazing, indulging—you both surveyed each other’s features. Watching your soft but swollen lips, watching his sharp but pleading eyes. He pushed himself in without as much of a warning—and then watched the enlightened expression on his face, the immense rapturing of yours. For a moment, you swore you could’ve seen something other than lust in Taylor’s eyes, but he punctuated the delusions straight out of you with an unbearable thrust, and you never looked back. You gasped at the girth of his cock stretching you out, and his breath hitched at the spontaneous clenching your tight hole was bestowing him. “Fuck…”

You breathed out a whimper, and your parted mouth was immediately seized with the taste of Tom’s thick cock as he kneeled over your body and thrusted himself selfishly down your throat. Deeper, when Tom found your gags to be indecently enticing and feeding into his cock veins.

To make everything all the more dizzying, your hands were taken and wrapped around a pair of throbbing cocks; Zane and Nico’s in your left, Drew and Oliver in your right. Every contact point on your body, from Taylor’s dick pressing deep inside of you, to Tom’s succulent cock bulging your cheek, to Zane, Nico, Oliver, and Drew rubbing against their respective partner and fucking into your closed fist, burned.

“You love being full of cock, don’t you? Look at you… pleasuring the six of us at once. Come on, use your mouth. Suck Tom off, you can do it,” Taylor mouthed at your shoulder, the warmth of his breath tickling you, and then a complimentary bite to your shoulder—making your pulse run high. His grasp on the back of your raised thighs was warring as he used his core to beat his thick cock inside of you and pummel you open.

You cried around Tom’s cock, Taylor’s balls slapping your taint with every exhilarating thrust and feeding into your indulgence. Tom was noble. You already had enough on your plate; stroking two thick cocks per hand and enduring Taylor’s aggressive fucks. The intricate position you were in made it more difficult for you to suck him off, so Tom took matters into his own hands, and used your mouth as he pleased. His hands were behind his head as if they could stabilize the swimming lewd thoughts. You peeked at the utter state of bliss he was in, and your cock throbbed at the sight of his body. His chest full, his pits trimmed, his built expertly trimmed with fine and intricate muscles, especially so whenever he sunk in his stomach and flexed from the heat of your throat. You were salivating not only because the taste of Tom’s cock was so delightfully salty, but also because you were surrounded by such gorgeous men—a heaven of greek gods.

You felt reborn.

The kiss is all-consuming when Tom pulled himself out to press his lips against yours, making you sit up on Taylor’s lap. When his tongue pried your mouth open effortlessly, electricity shot down your spine, only for it to sear back up with the vicious pounding Taylor was giving you. “You taste like my dick, you like that?” Tom inhaled every ounce of breath you dispelled into his mouth. Broken sounds of whimpers and moans, a confusing yet compatible elixir that Tom drank up, and poured it back down your throat when he licked deeper into your mouth. He licked and nipped at your lips, tangled your tongue with his, and stole your breath with the eagerness of his mouth on yours that hadn’t seem to be faltering.

Heat flushed through your veins when each person took a turn to your mouth. The straddling position allowed the group to enclose themselves around you, the air thickening and weighing heavier than the swing of their cocks. Five heavy dicks surrounded your face while Taylor’s continued to swell beneath you, turning you inside and out as his hands on your hips hardened. It was an insoluble dilemma of your sexual appetite. You were starving for something to fill your mouth, but who—was the dilemma you were faced with.

“So big, fuck—“ You caught yourself drooling at the sight of their cocks dripping for you.

You behaved like a wanton, catching Oliver’s pre-cum with your tongue before sucking hard on Zane’s cock, then simultaneously stroking Drew and Nico over your shoulders ardently. The smell of Tom’s and Oliver’s salty cocks rubbing over your face made you vigilant and heightened your arousal to a crescendo. Eagerly, you replaced Zane’s cock with the two men, and moaned when the uncomfortable stretch they had provided made you stiffen around Taylor’s shaft.

“Shit, I’m going to—“ Taylor warned, his large hand splayed on your sweaty lower back while he wallowed in the confines of your walls, squeezing and clamping around his bristling cock.

Your mouth was stretched, saliva dripping from either corners of your lips, the crown of their dicks thick enough to shut your trap without so much as touching your throat. The wonderful sounds of their moans made the strain on your jaw well-worth the ache you were surely going to feel the effects from tomorrow onwards.

“Taking two cocks at once—never seen that before, Christ…” There was a vacant space in the middle of your mouth. Tilting your chin up, Oliver pushed a wad of spit into the opening—smug as he watched it fall into the void, somewhere in the back of your throat.

“He’s a horny little thing, isn’t he?” Tom followed in Oliver’s steps, spitting inside of your mouth. Two people were enough to set off a chain reaction as the rest of the group quickly joined. Nico, Drew, and Zane added their own shipment to the pooling spit haul, and they all watched in awe when you relaxed your tongue and let it drain into the back of your throat as one load.

The dehumanizing exploitation of your body turned sweat into goosebumps, and you were eager to be covered in welts by the time you were done.

Your entire body lit up at the attention the men were giving you. Taylor fucked you harder, his hands bruising on your body. Nico and Drew occupied the sloppy void that was your mouth when Tom pulled out to join Zane in kissing your flushed neck, and Oliver tended to your abandoned cock with his hand, stroking and twisting your knob. You choked on the two cocks as they attempted to fuck your mouth. It was a constant collision on your tongue and cheeks, where loads of spit pooled and dripped for a messy bustle, and you wouldn’t let them out of your mouth until Taylor delivered one strong thrust, and emptied himself inside of you. The sudden launch of his cum erupting inside made you pull away with a bated breath and moan, your body writhing as he flooded your insides.

“Fuck!” He shouted from behind you, clawing into your inner thighs while your ass was pumped with the warmth of his thick cum. Warm spurts continued to paint you from the inside as Taylor resumed his hips for a few more seconds, dumping every seed that he could push out deep inside of your violated hole, until his sack was emptied.

“Don’t let it leak out,” Drew hoisted you off of Taylor’s limp and recovering body, and pushed you back onto all fours, your head in between Taylor’s legs. “—and clean him up. Not a drop wasted, got it?”

“M-mm, yeah—fuck!” When you began licking at the underside of Taylor’s softening cock, your hole was back to being occupied again with the hung curve that was Drew’s dick. He didn’t waste a single second in making you squirm. With both hands tucked into your pelvis, Drew used your body as leverage while fucking madly into you.

“Fuck—look at you, you’re creaming all over my dick,” the sounds were delectable. Soft and creamy with every thrust Drew delivered to your ass—you felt some cum splatter onto your back from how hard he was fucking into you. As much as your asscheeks stung from the way his thighs clapped against your flesh, you were relishing every second of it with Taylor’s cock in your mouth, languidly swiveling your tongue and lapping up remnants of his seed until he was pristine.

The rough spanking marked you as Drew’s in the moment. You felt guilty for thinking it, but it was placed in good faith. HIs palm seared your stinging ass, reminding you to tend to the others. You do, your vision blurry and hazy, but you took whatever cock wanted to enter your mouth. Tom’s, Oliver’s, Nico’s, then Zane’s—they all tasted incredible and if you were allowed to, you could see yourself coming right then and there—simply from sucking cock—cocks.

You thrived in rough hands. Drew’s, Zane’s—anyone’s. Your skin throbbed when Zane and Nico slapped your cheeks with their cocks, and your asshole spasmed when Drew sealed himself within you, pushing every drop of seed until he slumped over the curve of your back, toppling you onto the ground with his weight. Even then, he pushed into your squirms, his cock buried deep into your ass, refusing to pull himself away from the sickening pleasure.

“Up and at ‘em, (M/N). Not done yet,” Oliver smiled and pulled you onto your feet, positioning himself behind you.

“Fuck—Zane…” You called out to him, bracing yourself on the arm of his couch as your muscles were still stirring awake from their sleep.

He approached you, quick in his steps, immediately tending to your non-existent wounds. His fingers through your hair, his hand over your cheeks. “What—you’re okay? What do you need? Too much? Fuck—Drew, I told you to go easy on—”

“N-no, no! I’m okay—fuck, I—I love this… so much… So much cum inside of me, god—” You were in a dreamlike state, drunk on the lights overhead you were mistaking for stars. Reality blurred even more when you felt Oliver take your wrists with one strong hold, holding them over your back, and pushed himself inside of you with one strong thrust. “Fuck!”

“Loosen up, dude. Your boy’s enjoying it—see? Taking our cocks like it’s a fucking olympic sport,” Oliver cruelly laughed, ignoring the twisting of Zane’s face as he focused on the absolute bliss on your face, holding you parallel to his body, to the sharp thrusts he catapulted upwards into your sloppy hole. “All the cocks that’s been inside of you, but you’re still so fucking tight. You going to loosen anytime soon? Hm? Too much of a slut to let that happen, right? I know you feel me in your guts, (M/N). You look fucking beautiful taking my dick so effortlessly.”

Drips of cum were leaking out of you. You could feel it trailing from your creamy hole, then down to the back of your slick tensed thighs as Oliver fucked you while standing.

Unlike Drew, Oliver didn’t need to brand you with hard spanks to your body. His hammering cock was enough, hollowing you with ease, the crown assaulting your sweet spot with ease—everything Oliver did was with ease, and it was further aided as you let yourself go limp. He fucked you bent over the arm of the couch, then when he had enough, you were back to being fucked standing. His arms looped around your pits, then interlocked behind your neck in support of his thrusts. His cock was ruthless in your ass, spearing and ruining your hole for anyone else to come after him. Your tender hole was brutally stretched around his swelling cock, your body burning up from the hold he was restraining your body with. Oliver whispered praises for your endurance, kisses you on the neck, then the shell of your ear for providing him a pleasure that would be the blueprint for the rest of his hook-ups. He straightened his knees, pushing himself balls deep into you, and in one long groan from his gut, spilled deep inside of you.

“Bet you feel so full, don’t you? Fuck…” Oliver grabbed his dick at the base and squeezed the remaining spurts inside of you before pulling out, flicking any remnants of cum over your bruised ass cheeks.

You moaned for him. The third load in your ass, and your heart was aching because you were another man closer to concluding the night.

It was open, dripping in cum, and then immediately seized when Nico pulled you onto his lap to join him on the couch. You felt like a rag doll—pulled, tossed, and thrown however one was pleased to treat you. As long as your hole was still functioning and remained at their disposal, neither of the men had any complaints about marking your body with a few scuffs.

Nico faced you to the group, your back planted against him. You whimpered when your tired limbs were hoisted once again as he hooked his arms under your knees, and then raised your legs up to position your dripping hole over his cock. Your hole had become a luscious swell of gape. The group marveled at the sight of your puffy rim, beautifully creamed by the pleasure of Taylor, Drew, and Oliver respectively.

“Holy shit, he’s fucking hollowed out…” Tom muttered, stroking himself to the sight of your insides blooming for everyone to see.

“Shit’s getting me horny again,” Taylor laughed, tugging on his flaccid cock, his body still recovering from the high he had inflicted upon himself moments prior.

Supporting your body with his arms, Nico raised your legs higher, bending them back until your knees hovered near your temples, and then locked his hand around your neck to hold you in place. Your mouth fell agape at the stretch of your muscles, and heat spread throughout your body as the group watched Nico’s cock breach your opening with a slow shove, pushing the leak of cum back inside of your guts.

Your hands trembled as you guarded your position on the couch upon Nico folding you back and feasting on your insides with his length. You felt Nico’s thighs tense, pushing up into you with all his might while your gaze locked with Zane’s. He gulped at the unholy sight of your hole being raptured—hungrily being excavated with Nico’s throbbing tool. Nico’s cock was covered in the recent load stuffed inside of you, an increasing sheen the more he fell into a rhythm, and rutted into you aimlessly, chasing after his fill. He slid in and out of you easily, the ample amount of cum replacing any need for to renew his dick with lube.

You and Nico panted in union. His heavy cock stretched you open, and Nico apologized with a blistering kiss to your shoulder, as if fucking you couldn’t be the apology itself. When you alternated your gaze to Tom, he looked almost predatory. Eager like he had always been, but something internal was running thin—Tom’s patience. He scooted closer, watching you take Nico’s fat cock with scalding envy. While your hole took the screwing, Tom caressed the rim of your asshole. You were loose enough for what he wanted to do to you. Carefully, Tom pressed one finger against the underside of Nico’’s cock, and you choked back on your moans, throwing your head back at the sudden tightness as Tom slipped a finger inside of you. Nico continued rocking, occasionally slowing to accommodate Tom as he worked three fingers inside of you.

“T-Tom, that’s too much—“

“But it feels good though, right? You seem to like it when it’s too much.”

Spitting on his own cock, Tom massaged the layer of lube in before lining himself with your occupied opening. Your eyes widened in stupefied anticipation—in arousing fear—yet you brought your hands over to spread your ass cheeks for him, for Tom to force his cock into your body alongside Nico’s length, and you cried with the double breach.

“M-mmfgh! Fuck…!” You cried out, your eyes rolled in the sockets, leaving only the whites of your eyeballs visible as Nico and Peter began moving in opposite rhythms.

“Fuck, Tom—your dick feels so good against mine, holy crap—“

With an animalistic groan, you pushed your ass out, greedily taking the two cocks into your gut despite the uncomfortable stretch signaling for you to stop and rethink about this decision unfolding before your very eyes.

Not long after, Nico and Tom pumped their hips in harmony, filling you over and over. Cum would trickle out from Tom joining, but he was quick to pull himself back out and scoop it back inside of you with a deep plunge that made the three of you reduce yourselves to nothing but guttural moans. You felt Nico’s body tense beneath you, coercing your own to tighten at the core.

Holding your thighs, Tom pushed into you to the hilt while Nico followed suit. They shuddered with ecstasy, growling like wild beasts from the natural impulse to clamp your sloppy hole around them. Their cocks were rubbing against one another, harder, faster, as they fucked themselves inside of you, opening you more than you had thought was imaginable at a relentless pace. You mewled, collapsing back onto Nico’s hold as your body rocked from the powerful thrusts as if you were caught in a tide.

You felt your own cock throb at this, balls tightening and stroking your cock to the sound of Nico in your ear and Tom at your lips, panting into your mouth in between messy kisses. You were wrecked, completely and utterly ruined as they rocked their shafts into you in opposite strides now. One would hit your sweet spot while the other pulled himself out to renew that fresh stretch of your rim again as they pushed with conviction. Between labored breaths, you searched for Zane over Tom’s shoulder, your heart beating faster and faster as he seemed to be mesmerized by the display of your sheer dedication in following in on your promise to make him feel like the luckiest man on Earth.

Faster. Harder. Deeper. In a matter of seconds, you all came together. Your body spasmed and writhed between their own twitching, your hole clenched around the erupting cocks, your own dick throbbed and spurted out creamy ropes onto your body. Their hips were unrelenting, frothing the thick cum sent deep into your crevices with writhing and swollen flesh, and you slumped, Nico’s released hold relieving your muscles as your body shifted back and forth from the two cocks milking themselves until their shafts softened.

At the thought of Zane—the last man that you would be taking—your position came to you unbidden. Scrolled over the arm of the couch again, you felt comforted by the ample leg room, stretching your muscles for the final act while Zane prepared himself behind you, laving his cock over your crevice, submerging himself in the wetness that your raw hole was dripping out. You were depraved of touch—Zane’s touch—you barely spent a minute with him in between stationing yourself with every men. All except him.

“They did a real number on you…” Zane muttered in your ear. His left hand caressed the tense muscles in your back before joining his right in steering you by the shoulders, his grip clutching a bruising shade into your skin. “Suddenly I don’t matter anymore, hm? You only call me over to show yourself off—showing off that dripping hole of yours.” Unsolicited moans drew out of you with the push of Zane’s hips, fitting his cum-covered cock over your crevice, as a way to soothe the swelling of your puffy rim, but also to ridicule your newfound addiction. “Showing off what was mine—that has now been ruined by five other fucking men. Fuck, I saw the way you were looking at them. All of them. You reek of them too, fucking slut.” He deliberately pressed his swollen cockhead to your ring of muscle, swirling and tracing the circumference, only to move back a centimeter and slide himself right by, pressing his shaft against you instead.

You whimpered, circling your hips back for more of Zane, to apologize to him with the warmth of your hole, to make up for your lack of attention towards him by letting him milk himself inside of you—like you’d done for the others. “I-I’m sorry—Zane, please—“ Your breath hitched when Zane wrapped a hand around your throat and pulled you against his imposing chest, arching you forward.

“So, you want my cock now? Five dicks weren’t enough? You need mine to feel satisfied? Face the group. Tell them how much you love my cock,” squeezing your cheek, he forced your head to turn to his friends. They stirred in their seats, their hands back to fisting their erections again.

“I-I love Zane’s cock… I love the way he fucks me—no—the way he makes love to my hole, the way he fills me up to the brim with his thick cum, the way he milks himself and breeds me. I love that he takes his time with me, s-shows me that I’m more than just a doll for fucking,” With the way you were looking; panting from the amount of dick you had taken for the past hour, sweating from the thickened sex in the air, dripping from the loads that marked their battle claim on you; you evoked a fever that spread from one end of the circle to the other. One by one, they gathered closer, inhaling the scent of your arousal—their sex, their seed deeply embedded into your body like you had no other choice but to use them as cologne.

“I-I love that he fucks me—like he loves me,” you peeked over your shoulder to look back at him with groveling gratitude. Was it a mistake to admit this for the first time? In this moment? Where it was confessed to the public, rather than solely to Zane? Your heart raced, and Zane was well-aware as he pacified you with doting affection on your chest, roaming his free hand over the plane, tweezing your perky nipples while his other hand at your throat maintained. You brought a hand up to hold his nape, to hold you close to you because—you’d been separated from your boyfriend for far too long. You were malfunctioning, throwing yourself to every man who wanted to please you and that swollen hole of yours, and you needed Zane to ground you back to him.

And ground you he did—Zane humbled you in the process, evidently satisfied with your short monologue as the kiss he honored you with was deep and enthralling. He poured all sorts of emotion in your mouth, explored it with his tongue in midst of tucking his feelings inside of you, muttered incoherent words of affection while he was drunk on your breath feeding his lungs with life.

“I love you,” he tucked the confession into the shell of your ear and punctuated his returning feelings with one sharp charge of his thrust. The previous loads within you permeated—saturated deep into your flesh—as Zane congested your guts with his large cock, making you wail on his slow, but bellicose hips. “I. Love. You.” Zane repeated in your ear, following up with every one of his thrusts. His cock was methodical inside of you. Screwing what was loose, tightening your walls like his cock was a hammer to secure you around his girth. You felt yourself tip-toeing the floor, the thrusts catapulting your body from Zane’s strength, but there was not a second where you didn’t feel safe. His hold on you—driving into you with his cock, restricting your limbs while he showered you with the most heart-fluttering compliments—he was your sanctuary, the holiest of all places, and you felt revived.

He had his hand over your throat, vaulting your moans with a clamp, pushing you back onto your heel, but as soon as he came up again and delivered those rapturing thrusts, you returned to your natural stance on your tip-toes. You struggled to make sounds—loud mewls and whimpers that proved how absolutely fulfilling you felt in the moment. Your throat was sore and dry, and your body was exhausted and could only endure Zane for so long. You fell limp in Zane’s arms, tensing at the right moments where he penetrated your prostate. It was the unsolicited answer to your body malfunctioning.

The roll of your eyes, the spasming of your asshole, the gape of your mouth as silent moans thickened the air—you and Zane bonded as one. Your ass pushed back to meet his thrusts, creating an electrifying wave of thunderous sounds of sweaty and sticky skin clapping against each other. You felt your body ripple from Zane’s power, from his devotion to forge your hole to the shape of his cock, from his desperate need to tell you that he loved you with more than just his words. You felt every inch of him through your gut. Bent over the arm of the couch, your sweat dripped onto the leather while he fucked you against it, your skin chafing abrasively. Your knees constantly collided with the furniture, but you were too far gone, completely lost in a cycle of Zane’s affection that you didn’t realize your chin was being held up by Drew, jerking his cock over your face.

You blinked rapidly to ward off exhaustion and before you could comprehend the line forming behind him, your face was propelled with thick flying ropes of cum. Drew spilled all over you with a moan, aiming wherever, but mostly at the center. He shot at you hard, feeling himself splatter from your lips, then to your hair.

It happened rapidly, Zane’s hips seemingly quickening to sync with the group’s thunder-paced wrists. Taylor was the next person in line, pumping his hairy cock to the sight of Drew’s cum dripping off of your nose from the vigor force Zane was pummeling you from behind. With a deep grunt and a push of his hips, Taylor emptied his heavy sack, adding onto the layers of cum on your face.

You’ve seen it in the videos you’d watched. It was no good letting their hard-work go to waste. You tipped your head back and Tom helped, resting his hand at your hairline while he stroked his cock over the stains on your face. Again, he was another man to blow another thick load onto your face. Before he left, he made sure to wipe himself clean on your neck, embellishing you with his gratitude.

Then came Nico; the massive amount of loads on your face pooled as you patiently waited for his second high. Your vision was screwed, trying to peer through the cum dripping down your eyelids, but eventually you had to settle on shutting your eyes and anticipate blindly. Within seconds, you heard Nico grunt and moan, followed by another spillage onto your face. He aimed directly at your mouth, where you missed the first unforeseen shot, but quickly adapted and opened your mouth to hold his seed. The salty taste on your tongue bloomed, and whoever’s cum was trailing from the bridge of your nose, past your philtrum and into your open mouth was even saltier, making you writhe as the shudders were uncontrollable when you swallowed.

Finally, Oliver stepped up and amused himself to the heavy decoration weighing down on your face. Stroking his cock, he also played with the cum, dipping the crown of his cock into someone else’s load, scooping a white thread was dangling off your jaw and into your mouth, wiping your eyelids clean with his glans—because he wanted you to see this. He wanted you to watch him come on you with immense pride, to watch him pump the study veins in his thick cock as he indulged at the sight of your pretty eyes surrounded by the four prior men’s fulfillment. With gritted teeth, Oliver groaned from the depth of his gut and released his seed all over you. The group saved the largest load for last. Your eyes immediately clenched following one thick splatter to your lid, then the other, blurring your vision and stinging your eyes once again as Oliver targeted painting you from all corners of the face, including the ones he had helped wipe clean. He squeeze the last remaining seed, and flicked it onto your lips, groaning from the sudden sensitivity in his cock.

“Shit… you look so—” Zane groaned from behind you. He couldn’t stop marveling at it; the unholy sight of your face snowed under an ample amount of cum. The scent of the group’s sex drifted in the almost still air, and Zane ached inside of you.

You can feel the warmth emanating from his study body when he pushed his weight onto you, fucking into you harder and igniting the burn in your thighs. Peeking from one eye, your head was turned to where Zane claimed his rightful place on your lips again. His eyes flashed with hunger at the taste of someone’s cum dripping into your mouth, so he kissed harder, molding your hole to his cock and hammering into you at a breath-taking pace. There were multiple passageways the various pool of mixed semen were taking on your face. A web dangled off your cheek, a trail dripped in pursuit of the kiss, a wet clump was smushed between Zane’s nose and yours; you and Zane were a sloppy mess, and you both were baptized by the scent, the taste, and the feeling of it all.

You were gorgeous, your delicate state only adding to your appeal. One more look at you, and Zane grunted low. He reached between your thighs with his hands, so hard it hurt, and he was wild and strong, fucking into you madly while knocking your breath into a state of stasis. His hips smacked against your ass, faster and faster, and your body was up in flames. Every thrust felt punishing, like he wanted to condemn you for seducing him—for loving him—but if this was punishment, you needed to find more ways to anger him, to love him.

You whimpered into his growls, his firm hands pulled you impossibly closer by the thighs, clutching and fucking you back onto his cock, as he raptured himself into you. He stroked the inside of your mouth, his tongue feeling fat and warm, savoring the taste of salty seed on your tongue, and he groaned into you once more. He grunted and growled like an animal, powered by the group watching in awe, the ravenous noise reverberating through your guts, and you feel the eruption of cum dousing your flesh, deep in your guts, his large cock pulsating in you.

The pleasure hit you like a lightning bolt. Your thighs shook, your hole spasmed, and you rut against his swelling cock, pleasured and soothed by the warmth and thickness of his steaming cum. His release had him quivering against your back, his face tucked inside the crook of your neck while he rocked slowly, breeding you.

“So good, you’re so fucking good…” Zane muttered weakly, panting and mouthing against the back of your ear.

“So full—“ you groaned at the heavy weight of dick in you, then hissed when Zane bucked his hips once more, kissing the crown of his cock to the mouth of your prostate, as if it was a reminder for you that he owned you.

Obscene noises came from his cock plunging your ass with cum—more cum, as you struggled to contain another load, and felt it drip down to your ankles. You sighed, taking it all in—taking Zane in—and slumped over the arm of the couch, heaving a euphoric sigh of relief, relishing in the high-yielding pleasure that was Zane’s cock, dazzling by the lights above you—the stars.

“You guys okay?” laughing at the group’s sudden exhaustion, Zane refused to pull away from you. His hands curled around your hips, then carefully maneuvered himself to lie on the couch with him, still buried to the root of your hole.

“Better than a smoke,” Drew yawned, rubbing his large hand over your ankle by virtue of exceeding his expectations. Nico petted at your head, the spent look on your face charming when you turned towards him and weakly smiled. Tom and Oliver were quiet, still recovering from their orgasm. When you caught their gaze, they held up their thumb once before plummeting back onto the floor.

“Fuck, man—you were great,” Taylor slumped against the foot of the couch, limbs sprawled from the exhaust of muscles, but he joined in on the caressing of your leg, squeezing at your calf, nearly rendering you to sleep.

One by one, the group fell to a silence, a gentle slumber despite the hardwood floors forewarning a few of them of a back ache the next morning. You watched peacefully, the caressing of your body slowly coming to a halt, and then looked back at Zane, collapsed onto your back, drifting into sleep with the gentle snores near your ear.

Hopefully by morning—Zane would tell you that you fulfilled on your promise.

He was the luckiest man alive.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#zane phillips x male reader #tom holland x male reader #drew starkey x male reader #oliver stark x male reader #nico greetham x male reader #taylor zakhar perez x male reader #zane phillips x reader #tom holland x reader #drew starkey x reader #nico greetham x reader #oliver stark x reader #taylor zakhar perez x reader #nou.fics

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deadsetobsessions · 9 months ago

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Danny is desperately running away. Not from a robber, they’re not much of a threat to him anyways, but from a really intense Batman.

“Oh my ancients,” he muttered as he sprinted away from the dude swinging above him. “Can you please go away?! I already paid you back, dude!” Danny raised his voice at the swooping figure above him. He wished he could go ghost, but that would break his cover so fast as a “meta” or whatever.

“Stop running,” Batman landed in front of him, growl reverberating around them.

“Stop chasing me then! It’s bad manners!” And Danny’s from the midwest, so that’s an actual concern.

“How did you find Two-Face?” Batman loomed before stepping back when Danny’s shoulders curled inwards.

“Oh. Is that what this is all about?” Danny huffed. “It was self defense! And… the pun was too good to not, you know? Yeah, no, I had to. Prime opportunity.”

The cowl might hide it but Danny always knew when people are doing that nose pinch of exasperation. It’s a talent he carefully cultivated through shenanigans and puns.

Batman? Definitely inwardly pinching the bridge of his nose.

“How did you find him? Harvey Dent is a dangerous criminal.”

“In my defense,” Danny started, like a teenager caught guiltily shoving the entire cookie jar into his room instead of leaving some for the rest of the family. “He found me first. Well, no, he found the kids first. He started it!”

Batman somehow raised an eyebrow. How the hell does he do that?? The cowl covered the entire upper half of his face! Danny squinted at him. Is Batman a meta?

“Listen, I didn’t start it, but my sister sure as heck taught me how to end it. It’s not my fault Dent couldn’t handle a beat down. And I told you I was gonna pay you back for that one (1) Big Dent! If you wanted cash, you should have said so!”

“Hrm.”

Maybe it was the fancy gear. Maybe it was the pointy head thing. Batman reminded Danny way too much of Vlad and he got the ick.

“Okay, well, good talk, bye!” Danny ducked and ran, faster than he had before.

Batman grappled up and forward, trying to grab him. Danny, with years of dodge training under his belt and impeccable teenage instincts of gtfo, managed to dodge Batman’s reaching hands with a hollered “OPE!”

“Bye! See you never!” Danny ducked behind an alley and turned invisible as Batman swooped past.

When he was sure the vigilante was gone, he slowly faded into the visible spectrum.

“Jeez. Better warn Amy about this. Maybe I should hide in Crime Alley until this blows past.”

——

Gotham’s underbelly had a new tale to sling around their bars that week and a new demographic to be wary of.

The Terrors, the kiddie gang that ran perpendicular to Crime alley, was preyed on by Harvey Dent.

“What do you think you’re doing to them?!”

“Ahhhhhh!!!” Harvey screamed, flailing as a creature of shadows and claws- god damn those sharp ass claws- descended upon him, scarring it just one side but both sides of his very vulnerable face!

“Back the hell off of my kids, you fashion reject!”

As for Harvey… well, he’s developed an aversion to the smell of peanut butter and small children.

——

Batman, hunting down Danny because he’s worried about the endangered meta kid: you left me a Dent.

Danny, because he sees a vigilante bum rushing him: I have no cash! That’s the only way I can pay you back rn!

——

Batman, trying to lecture Danny about safety because he’s a worried batdad:

Danny: ew a rich stalker trying to be my dad!

@tricksterwitchkat can you tell I’ve been thinking about your pun for days? This is for you, thank you so much for that pun, it made my entire week.

#batman #danny phantom #bruce wayne #dc x dp #harvey dent #two face #two face is not having a good time #Danny and his little sister’s kiddie gang #bamf danny phantom #ope being a thing I’ve heard midwesterners say #I think

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god-syndicate-if · 3 months ago

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DEMO [TBD] You've always been angry.

Rage comes naturally to you. With how much life has messed with you it's only fair that you use your anger. That's why you became a boxer. The thrill of breaking an opponent. And hoping they might break you in turn. They never do though. Every fight is a disappointment, almost as much of a disappointment as they pay for each fight.

Enter Jackie Roth, club owner, mob boss, and former god. When she offers you a job you can't say no. Not that you would, not when she and everyone in her gang feel so familiar to you. At least with this job you'll be able to use that rage inside you more.

As you learn the ways of the criminal underground you reconnect with people you never met. Reforge bonds that you've never made. And recall memories you've never had. You were a god once upon a time, can you become one again?

God Syndicate is an interactive novel where you play the newest incarnation of Ares, The God of War. It's 18+ for violence, explicit sexual themes, drug use, morally questionable behavior, and more.

Customize your MC, play male, female, or nonbinary. With transgender options and pronoun selection. Customize your appearance and develop your personality.

Romance or befriend a cast of characters, including gods with more issues than you can count or even a mortal! Asexual and Aromantic options available.

Show the gods why you were feared all those years ago or prove that you're better than your past lives.

Uncover the mystery of disappearing gods as well as the mystery of your past.

Help out Elysium, the club where you'll practically live from now on. It seems to attract gods and that isn't always good.

Take out your anger on people who might even deserve it.

Zeus: Jackie Roth - She/Her. [Not an RO]

Jackie is The King of The Gods and she makes sure everyone knows it. Her word is law in Elysium and beyond. Fail her and you'll have a storm waiting for you. In the years since your disappearance Jackie's love for her family has seem to only grow. But she has a criminal empire to run and you're just the weapon she needs.

Hermes: Riley Liao Zhi - Gender Selectable. [RO]

The Messenger of The Gods. Or in Riley's case, the ever bored personal assistant to Jackie. Riley's an adrenaline junkie with a heart of gold. As the one who found you they feel almost responsible for you. But why do they also seem so afraid of you?

Apollo: Franco Valerio - He/Him. [RO]

As expected of The God of Music, Franco's your classic rich and famous rock star. Well he would be, if only he could get out of Elysium. His love of singing and love of his family are two chains he can't break that tie him here. Will your arrival help break those chains or tighten them?

Aphrodite: Damiana "Dame" Rivette - Gender Selectable. [RO]

Quiet and Serious, Dame is no longer The God of Love they once were. The passion of their life faded and now bitterness grows where love should. The only friend they have in Elysium seems to be their fiance, Johnny. To make their life even worse, you arrive.

The Mortal: Sigourney Hawthorn - She/Her. [RO]

Newly divorced from a god, Sigrouney struggles with juggling her (demigod) child, relentless job, and love life. As her daughter, Claudia, grows she wonders if she can keep up or if she'll be left behind. And now with your arrival Claudia's godly family gets bigger and her presence gets smaller.

Artemis: Rebel Reyes - Gender Selectable [RO]

How can The God of the Hunt thrive in the city? The prey here are either too weak or too annoying to hunt. The only thing Rebel craves is to feel that thrill again. With your arrival they have a perfect chance, who better to hunt than the God of War? They can't wait to meet you.

The Old Flame: Harper Ward - Gender Selectable [RO]

A friend from a better time. Harper and you were once inseparable. They saw you at your darkest and kept you calm. Years after an explosive break up they've reemerged into your life far different than you knew them. Can you find the dying embers of your old friend? Is it even worth the pain?

#Interactive Fiction #God Syndicate #IF WIP #Choice Script #dashingdon #choice of games #interactive novel #if game #choicescript #hosted games #greek mythology #greek myth aesthetic

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sfznyxio · 2 months ago

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-ˋˏ WITHIN THESE CASTLE WALLS ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. saving twins from getting killed who turn out to be rulers of the celestia kingdom isn’t part of the plan. neither is being instated as a member of the royal guard as their gratitude. with the alarming increase of assassinations, you’re wary of everyone in the castle. who is your ally or enemy, or who will be the one to capture your heart?

CHARACTERS. albedo, arataki itto, dainsleif, diluc, eula, jean, kaedehara kazuha, kaeya, kamisato ayato, sangonomiya kokomi, tartaglia, thoma, xiao, zhongli

CONTENT. gn!reader. royal au. fluff. 1.3k words. rewrite of within these castle walls [i] at my old main blog @/verxsyon. inspired by fire emblem: three houses. mentions of assassination attempts which many of them failed. assassination attempt (tartaglia). seduction (sangonomiya kokomi).

VERA. can't believe it's been two years since i wrote wtcw. time flies by really fast. i miss this series so much. will i rewrite for the other parts? no, because respectfully, they suck oof. initially, wtcw was supposed to be one part so here it is lol.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ALBEDO

a noble descended from a lineage of alchemists. albedo prefers to stay at home to tend to his research and to avoid social interactions. in spite of believing that relationships are bothersome, he’s only interested in you. as an attempt to create a friendship, he brings you flowers which one of his books suggested. he becomes self-conscious that his efforts may not be sufficient, you appear happy when thanking him and complimenting his thoughtfulness. for a split second, an awkward smile graces upon his lips.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ARATAKI ITTO

a mercenary of oni blood. infamous in his hometown for causing trouble with the authorities with his gang. itto is a popular figure because of his “dashing” looks and abrasiveness. his overconfidence is one reason why you can’t stand him. you never met someone this unbearable. he always disturbs your training by challenging you to a duel, lots of them. comes determined to win the match, but loses every single time. perhaps you’ll indulge him once more, just to see what happens when he finally will be victorious.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. DAINSLEIF

captain of the royal guard and royal advisor to the throne. assassination threats have been circulating throughout the kingdom, so he constantly puts his guard up even though you saved the twins. it’s the fact that they trust a complete stranger with battle experience who can kill them any time. nevertheless, he takes you under his wing in accordance with their wishes. his paranoia is understandable, but you believe he’s too harsh on you. he assigns you extra work to prove your worth as an asset. you hope you’ll survive the initiation process.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. DILUC

head of house ragnvindr, tycoons of the wine industry. everyone swoons over the flame-haired man. one of the girls at the flower shop can’t stop talking about diluc like a knight in shining armor. your opinion of him is that you don’t get the hype. politics are supposedly not that important to him, but it’s a whole different story when the royal guard is involved, opposing their operations. it’s suspicious that his comments align with a vigilante who wears a ridiculous costume at night. for sure, you think he deserves respect to protect the place called home.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. EULA

exiled daughter of house lawrence, the clan with a tarnished reputation. the twins are gracious enough to grant eula a position of a royal soldier, upsetting the majority of citizens. you admire her dissociation with her clan’s history, wishing everyone sees her past that. she doesn’t deserve hate for something that is beyond her control. you want to befriend her, but her sense of humor is unique in a way that it kind of gives you chills down your spine. if it makes you feel any better, she likes you for seeing her as herself.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. JEAN

head of house gunnhildr. jean dedicates her life to serve the kingdom, to the point where she tends to overwork. more worried about the state of the state more than her own health, she doesn’t know how to reconnect with her younger sister and what romance feels like out of the romance novels she reads. as someone who spends most of their life in one place, you sympathize with her, therefore offering to solve her dilemma. after all, both of you need breaks from interfering with assassinations. she is confused as to why she feels warm when you’re around.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

a former refugee from an insular empire. upon entering the kingdom a few years ago, kazuha was thought to be an assassin which he of course got arrested for, but was pardoned and given the option to live here and serve the crown. in the present, he patrols the seas to fend off intruders. at the end of the shift, he disappears from his crew just to find you. his captain knows that he is smitten with the soldier who was trained as a mercenary. the poems he recites at sea are essentially confession letters in hopes to make you his one day.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KAEYA

a fellow royal soldier adopted into house ragnvindr. the elderly consider kaeya like their own grandson, but he is so far from angelic. he misleads patrollers to another direction of the crimes and dodges your questions regarding his whereabouts. the citizens might be involved in his antics, avoiding eye contact with you whenever you mention him. apparently, you’re dense, failing to notice the signs of him trying to make a move on you. he’s been doing those things to make you pay attention to him and have you all to himself in private.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KAMISATO AYATO

head of house kamisato. responsible for managing external affairs, ayato is required to travel, always away for business. although it’s said he goes on trips most of the time, his appearance is a mystery. rumored to be tall with blue hair and a mole near his mouth, everyone joins in the hunt to find him at the royal party, sending his sister and retainer in a frenzy to protect his identity. your dance partner fits the description to a t. when the guests discover that you were dancing with the commissioner, your partner kisses your hand and whisks away into the night.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. SANGONOMIYA KOKOMI

head of house sangonomiya. kokomi is also its military strategist. having the ability to foresee the tactics and its outcomes of another army, she is a force to be reckoned with and a valuable ally to the crown. you had the pleasure of being invited to her guest room, where she was waiting for you in an extremely thin nightgown. not the type to show emotions, it’s rare to see her amused, and she beckons you to come inside. not only is she well-versed in the art of war, she’s surprisingly an expert in the art of seduction as well.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. TARTAGLIA

a diplomat from a neighboring kingdom, or so he claims to be. there is something about childe that sets him apart from the other diplomats who visited the kingdom. your first encounter with him is not pleasant. a mutual distrust forms between the two of you, yet the space you both share is tense. one night with crazed eyes and a knife at your neck, he reveals that he was assigned to assassinate the twins. you’re in the way, but oddly enough, he doesn’t want to hurt you. it seems like he’s doing this against his will, or it’s the tension talking.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. THOMA

retainer of house kamisato. thoma is a fan favorite among the royal staff by being the type of servant they needed. honestly, you don’t like him. but you don’t dislike him either. the epitome of perfection, but too perfect for your taste. he’s also too nice for his own good, hearing him apologize things he isn’t at fault for and saying yes to all requests from the staff. as he serves a clan full of swordsmen, he knows how to fight. so when you unleash a surprise attack on him, he doesn’t retaliate. it reminds him of a similar incident in the past that changed his life for the worse.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. XIAO

a deity sworn to protect the kingdom centuries ago as a promise to one draconic god. xiao finds humans strange, but you’re even stranger, as a child who fought against a beast by yourself in the forest, accidentally fulfilling a commission for a mercenary group who struggled to kill it for months. he despises crowds, but decides to pose as a royal soldier to meet you. when you encounter a dangerous creature during your patrol, he comes to your rescue. then he whispers into your ear to call his name in times of desperation before disappearing into thin air.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ZHONGLI

a knowledgeable historian. zhongli is friendly and enjoys having casual conversations over tea. there isn’t anyone within the castle who has not been invited to his corner of the library. you have been there as a regular you already lost count. from those meetings, you track his mesmerizing amber eyes. you swear that you’ve seen them in some history books of a draconic deity who once presided over this kingdom. it’s impossible, as higher beings perished during the cataclysm, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise.

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toast-on-dandelioms · 2 months ago

Note

completely fine if you can’t do this but I’m curious if you could do something with platonic yan batfam finding out teen reader smokes. Not hard core drugs or anything, just cigarettes (still bad I know), and maybe even drinks alcohol.

in their own words it “makes it so they can stop thinking”

Again completely fine if you can’t!! Also love your work ♥️

The ask is based before the events of part 4

beta reader: @duck-you

WC: 4.4k

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics @cafekitsune

Age of reader: 16-17 (the age of reader in the main serie is your choice, I don't think I ever made the age clear but for this ask reader is almost 18)

Tw: mentions of alcohol and cigarettes, underage drinking and reckless behaviour from intoxication, Joker, fighting under the influence, wrongful imprisonment, Black Mask and his uglyness

You first started smoking when you were at the end of middle school and started high school, your friends kept pressuring you into it since all the cool kids were smoking and you didn't want to lose them.

You did stop a few times but they kept gas lighting you into starting smoking once again and after you started to roam Gotham as Spider it became an habit that helped you do something whenever the night was dead or you were just bored.

You also made sure to not smoke before going back to the Manor since you knew Alfred would know and you didn't want to let him know and disappoint the older man, seeing him as a father figure instead of Bruce since he was the one who actually took time out of his day to pay attention to you whenever you told him in advance.

The drinking didn't start until you turned 17 and your friends managed to drag you to a party after a lot of begging and accusing you of not caring about them.

You still remember the night where you got drunk for the first time, the beat of the music making you unable to talk to anyone without yelling and how everyone kept pushing drinks in your hand and cheer whenever you drank it all.

The taste of whatever drink you just drank always made you make a disgusted face before smiling happily as you started to relax and have fun with your friends, even singing karaoke after someone pushed a microphone in your hands and told you to follow the words that were being displayed on a TV.

Honestly that night was one of the best you ever had because you weren't Spider, you weren't the forgotten child of Bruce Wayne and you weren't the straight A's student that people looked down upon because of how silent and antisocial you were. You were [Y/N], the one who beat 5 guys at arm wrestling, the friend who was dancing like crazy and how you just lost your virginity (the alcohol one, not the actual virginity).

You didn't really enjoy drinking, especially whenever you drank too much after a party and ended up with the worst hangover ever thanks to your powers, but it was a nice thing to do to de-stress after a long night or to just become free for a night with your friends.

One night you were still on patrol but had a long night because you had to stop many gang fights and even got shot on the leg, which you bandaged up but it was hurting and annoying you so you ended up drinking the entire bottle of vodka you had in your schoolbag, where you forgot to take out the bottle a friend put inside after you told them that you never drank it since you never had the opportunity to do so.

And you were a bit of a lightweight since you didn't start for too long and somehow you found yourself wandering around Gotham, drunk out of your mind and unaware of your surroundings. Yes people were taking videos of a drunk vigilante walking on the walls and street but didn't do much, especially when they saw a familiar clown approaching.

When Joker finally walked up to you with his usual smile, happy that he saw you since he could just use you after he noticed how Batman was attached to you, plus you looked incredibly drunk and you were stumbling around the empty street, still wearing your mask that was just rolled up enough that he could see your mouth, slightly open so he thought it would be easy to kidnap you by just using a crowbar.

Immediately, when you felt his hand touch your shoulder and his annoying laugh, you grabbed his hand and just slammed him into the ground with a judo flip, that you saw Damian do when you were watching him train alongside the others.

Your drunken mind didn't clock in that the person who touched you was the feared clown of Gotham, you just kept hitting his body with the crowbar that he had in hand after you took it off his hands after he tried to hit you with it when he had the chance to attack.

But you didn't let him, somehow your mind and body when under the influence were a better fighter than you actually thought, you weren't using your superstrenght most of the time and only if he actually posed as a threat when he tried to attack you once again.

During the fight your mask was taken by that clown, who probably got even angrier when he saw that you were just a kid and that looked like you were gonna fall asleep in any moment, which was why he even managed to hit you on the face. Unfortunately for him, his hit made you remember when Jason hit you and somehow awakened an anger and you just started to hit that man like there was no tomorrow.

Somehow, during the drunken fight between you and Joker that people were recording, you didn't notice three masked figures on a rooftop who were watching you fight that clown and were discussing when to butt in.

Dick was watching with glee as you hit the clown while also waiting for Oracle to tell him who Spider was once Joker took off your mask, amazed as he watched your fight.

He did feel anger whenever Joker managed to get a hit on you with his fists and had to be held back by Jason and Damian, since they both wanted to see you win and see you fight in real life instead of watching from the cameras, which didn't show all of the fights most of the time.

As he watched he did that you moved a bit weird, like you were under the influence and that made him panic because what if Joker actually tried to drug you? What if someone tried to kidnap you and he wasn't there to save you?!

Jason was also watching in glee when he saw you hit the Walmart clown with a crowbar, cheering whenever you hit him in the face with that crowbar. He would also yell out scores when you did that, not caring that people were filming him.

He did notice how sluggish you were when you moved and was also ready to jump down to help you, not wanting you to get badly hurt by that clown even though he knew that you could defend yourself.

Damian was watching and making small comments about your posture as you fought before noticing how many moves were incredibly similar to downright the same moves he did as he fought with random criminals, making his heart soar with respect and felt incredibly honoured that you were copying him. He knew that he was gonna show the footage to the others to show how much Spider was like him and how he's obviously the favourite since they're copying him.

He did found your face very familiar, like he met you once but he couldn't find any memory of you in his mind, making him frustrated and angry since he's supposed to be the heir of Wayne Enterprises, his memory shouldn't get worse so soon.

When you felt a hand on your shoulder and another grabbing the hand that was hitting the now dead Joker, you turned around and just kicked that person away with all your strength to a nearby dumpster and just prepared yourself for another fight.

You honestly couldn't really see who was close to you thanks to Joker punching you right in the face and making your eyesight a bit blurry that you honestly couldn't see who was approaching and just thought it was another guy or more trying to kidnap you, so you kept fighting by using your spider senses to find them.

It took Dick, a laughing Jason and an annoyed but amazed Damian to manage to stop you, leaving all of them with bruises and many injuries since you didn't hold your strength back. The indented dumpster after you kicked Damian when he tried to grab you and the hole in a wall after you missed punching Jason and got stuck in the wall was proof of it.

The last thing you remembered before falling asleep after getting a small injection in your neck was Jason's laugh even though he sounded like someone kicked him in the chest and Damian's exasperated voice as he talked with Dick and how they shouldn't let you near anything alcoholic anymore.

You woke up the next day in your room, the headache from the hangover making you groan in pain, especially after feeling how sore your body was even though you couldn't remember anything from last night, before managing to get up without feeling like puking or falling, cursing yourself and making a mental note to never drink during patrol.

You slowly walked to the door, cursing your hangover since it felt like your door was farther away from you since you though you were in your usual room and not in another that looked exactly the same but you didn't really pay much attention to it since your head was killing you as you tried to think of anything.

You finally reached the door and opened it, immediately facing a surprised Bruce, making you confused and annoyed since you already felt like shit and seeing your father that never stepped up as a father to you made your headache worse.

You and the man stared at each other for a few seconds that felt like hours before you pushed him away and walked to where you thought the bathroom was, knowing that you needed to have a shower and probably puke your mind out.

When you finally walked out of the bathroom with a less painful headache after drinking some water from the sink and while you were showering, knowing it was safe since the Manor filtered the water, but the short-time happiness from the long shower was immediately ruined by Dick's loud voice as he talked about something you weren't paying attention to and him dragging you to the dining room where everyone was waiting for you, your headache coming back strong to even making you try and get away from his arms.

You groaned when he basically dropped you on the carpeted floor of the dining room, to which everyone's eyes were on you as you slowly got up and made your way to a random chair far away from everyone else, a bit weirded out since you actually never sat on a chair on the actual table. Hell, you probably never even stepped foot in the room in all the years you lived there.

You mumbled a thanks to Alfred when he set a bowl of soup in front of you and a few pills on a tissue next to your glass of water, to which you assumed it was for your headache and hangover.

You started to eat the soup without saying anything to anyone else at the table before looking up when you heard Bruce's voice saying your nome, ignoring how hesitant his voice was when he actually said your name, like it was the first time he ever actually pronounced your name out loud.

You stared at the older man who was supposed to be your father, hissing a little when the lights from the chandelier hits your eyes, too used to your poorly lit room and of the gloomy weather of Gotham that never lets any sun in so bright lights hurt your eyes.

"[Y/N], hun, I know you drank last night. And I am sure you know that drinking is bad for you, especially when you are underage. You could've hurt yourself and the people around you, which you did last night!" he said, his voice raising at the end before pointing at Dick, Jason and Damian, who you just noticed all had some bruises and looked uncomfortable while sitting on the chair.

Honestly, you didn't even feel bad. The only thing you felt bad about was not being able to remember anything about it. You hoped that someone took a video of it, god you hoped so hard.

As you thought of finding that video you suddenly noticed that Bruce was still talking, probably going on about the dangers of alcohol and what it could do to someone's liver after prolonged drinking, making you annoyed since he cares now? After years of ignoring your existence?

So you did what he did once when you were little, you just got up and left without a word to your room, not caring about anything he was saying. You didn't even know where you were going in the Mansion,thanks to how big it is and how you stuck to your room instead of exploring and ended up inside a small bedroom that looked like no one entered it for years thanks to the all the dust inside of it.

You opened the windows to let some air inside and found a few diaries as you snooped around before finding the holy grail of things you could find in anyone's room: an unopened bottle of rum in a hidden drawer that you might have broken while trying to open it because you were curious.

You were now loving whoever lived here and put the rum away in a pocket before walking out the room by the window so you could reach a bag you left on the rooftop that held a copy of your costume. Why did you had a bag there on the first place?

That was simple. You once forgot it while you were drinking on the rooftop when you had a horrible day and just forgot it there when you stumbled in your room by walking on the walls. And yes, the conversation you had with Alfred to ask him about having some money to buy all the stuff you needed to re-make the suit and re-create the voice modulator was very uncomfortable, especially when you knew you couldn't afford all of the stuff you needed even though you had a job.

And yes, you didn't have an allowance because Bruce never thought of giving you money and you had to take a job to just survive and not always ask for Alfred for money when you needed something for school or for dance practice.

As you reached the bad tied to an unused chimney, a small frown formed on your face when you saw the old design of your vigilante suit but still changed before putting the web shooters on your wrists, your bag already on your shoulders and the rum safely stashed in it and wrapped around your clothes to make sure it won't accidentally break while you were swinging around Gotham.

Once you got on a random rooftop of an abandoned building, which you made sure wasn't a rogue or a gang hideout before settling on it so you could finally drink the bottle you stole. You were close to one of the mafia's territory in Crime Alley but you didn't care which one it was, you only wanted to drink.

As you finally started to drink, your tongue tasting a hint of nutmeg and weirdly cinnamon with each sip you took, you slowly started to relax as the alcohol did its job, each sip making your head feel less heavy, like it was getting pumped full of helium and slowly making your forget about the pain your body was in.

God, you never wanted to stop, just four sips in and you were already past the tipsy part and you felt so free that anything you saw in the starless, polluted night of Gotham made you laugh like crazy. You finally felt like you belonged when you drank and that all the hatred, anger and the deep resentment you felt towards the Bats was calm, like a warm heavy blanket was put on those emotions.

As the night progressed, the bottle now half empty and your mind completely fuzzy, you started to hear noises and grunts of pain from one of the alleys near your spot, making you curious to see who it was and especially what was happening that would ruin your drinking night.

You slowly got up, your limbs feeling like jelly as you moved to walk on the side of the building, slipping a little as you stumbled around. After a bit you finally managed to get to the right alley when you realised you were on the wrong side of the building, and as you walked over you luckily avoided a frantic Nightwing grappling to a building.

You watched in silence when you finally got to the right alley and saw Black Mask, one of the criminals you knew his own goons feared because he could kill them if they did anything wrong in his eyes. You couldn't count the times you saw bodies in alleys when you were patrolling, their bodies covered in bruises and most of the time they were beat up beyond recognition that always made you sick.

But, unfortunately for you, your drunken mind decided to say something since you found his mask boring and weird. Like, compared to Jason's mask, his just looked boring and not really original. And you knew he was dangerous but noo, let's anger the mafia boss who kills with no mercy.

"He-Hey! You look ri"- you took a few sips of the rum - "uhh, oh yea! Ridiculous! Why that? No red, thought of being compared to Red Skull?" you started before your drunken mind just decided to go on a whole rant about his choices of brand and what he does with his goons.

As you were ranting about his ugliness and name choice, your spider senses made you dodge an incoming bullet shot at you but unfortunately Black Mask managed to hit your sacred bottle that still had most of its contents in it and you just watched with tears in your eyes as the alcohol ran out of your bottle to the ground.

The anger that surged in you after your drunken mind realised that he wasted your precious rum made you so angry that you didn't care who Black Mask is and threw the broken glass bottle at him and used his small distraction to web his chest and launch yourself at him, using all your strenght to punch his ugly masked face.

Using the moment and how distracted the man was, thanks to your punch, you kept hitting the man with all your strenght. Sadly, this moment of you overpowering the insult for eyes as a man as the man manages to catch one of your punches that was aiming for his stomach and pulled you forward to knee you on the chest, making you gasp for air and cough and almost made you puke but you anaged to keep it down.

Sadly, the bastard with no imagination for names started to hit you on the back of the head, making your vision blurred for a few seconds before your vision went back to normal thanks to your fast healing. You managed to avoid another one of his hits and quickly jumped on the wall and webbed him on the chest, pulling him forward and jumping on him, kicking him on the jaw.

You stared at the sad excuse of a original rogue as it stayed on the ground and slowly raised your hands like you won before grabbing the broken bottle of rum and walked on a wall, waiting as you watched the thing who you refused to acknowledge as a man get up and wobble around while the two goons he was hitting before already ran away.

Once it got up, obviously confused when you watched him look around and you waited until he got closer and hit him on the head with the bottle as a revenge for the wasted precious alcohol and then you quickly kicked him on the back to keep him down since you knew he was good at hand and hand combat and you knew that you couldn't win if he was lucid so you were lucky that you gave him a concussion with a lucky move.

You kept hitting the man-thing with the bottle with no care in the world, the blood splattering on the walls and the dumpster near you two, your smile the only thing he could see as you just kept hitting him, the bottle getting thrown away when it was completely broken from hitting his mask so you went back to using your hands, smashing his mask onto his scarred face, the alcohol in your body making you ignore how the shards of the mask were also getting embedded in your hands as you kept punching his face.

You stopped when your spider senses alerted you of danger and got ready to fight whoever it was that before getting hit with something and falling asleep, the last thing you managed to say before falling asleep was "fuck yall".

You woke up once again with weird cuffs on your wrists, but fortunately you weren't chained to the bed. You slowly got up from the bed and noiced two things: your hands were bandaged, making you confused as to what happened last night after you drank and both windows in the room had bars on it.

You managed to get up from the bed and walked to the door, your vision being a bit blurred as you looked around the room. You first walked to the window to see the bars and noticed how the bars were so close together and had such a small space between that even your finger couldn't pass through.

You then walked to the door and went to grab the doorknob but almost fell to the ground as you noticed too late that the doorknob was missing from the door. You quickly recovered and looked angrily at the door, punching it with all your strenght before realising that the cuffs were blocking your super-strenght when you felt an immense pain in your hand after you punched it and the door didn't fall down like you planned to.

You slowly retracted your hand from the door and started to pound the door with the other hand, yelling for Bruce and whoever lived in the fucking Manor, too angry and scared to care about the pain as your hand kept touching the door.

As you pounded on the door, you hoped that Alfred would come to save you from this room and explain why the hell you were stuck in a room with no way out, feeling trapped as minutes went by and no one came to explain what was happening and why you were trapped in that room.

You let out a huge sigh of relief when you heard footsteps coming your way and finally stopped pounding on the door, only now noticing the prints of blood on the door from your hand that was now bleeding profusely, making you almost cry as even slightly moving a finger brought you immense pain.

You looked up when you heard the door open and stared at Bruce and Alfred, who was holding a first aid kit, and moved to the side to let them enter, not wanting to fight until you knew why you were here.

You sat on a chair, who you now noticed was plastic, and let Alfred change the bandages on your hands while you stared at Bruce, waiting for an explanation before getting frustrated when he didn't say anything and just stared at you.

"What happened to me? Why are my hands bandaged?" you asked, staring directly at Bruce to hear his explanation, not remembering anything after you drank.

The man who you were told to call father just stared at you with a grim expression on his face "two days ago, after you snuck ou-" to which you interrupted him "I didn't sneak out, using those words would mean that you cared that I actually lived here and what these last 17 years showed me was that you don't care. Don't act like you do now".

You watched as the man acted like it didn't affect him but you knew that it did. You knew Bruce Wayne and he loves kids, you saw how he acted with Damian when he got hurt during patrol and how Jason once came home bleeding. You saw the man who you thought was heartless and didn't care about anyone cradle Jason's body as he carried him to the batcave, his face showing so many emotions that you never saw before.

You stayed silent as you watched him, giving an ok to Alfred when he asked if the bandages were too tight, still waiting for him to explain before sighing loudly when he just stared back at you.

"I went out to drink so what? Did I fight a gang member and somehow got so hurt that my hands need help healing?" you joked, wiggling your fingers to show your bandaged hands like it was something to be proud of.

To which Bruce seemed to get extremely mad about it "no, you decided to fight Black Mask after insulting him and ended up killing him. Damian and Cass had to sedate you as they thought you were a danger to yourself and to the civilians.".

After that you just stared at him before looking down at your own hands and looked at your knuckles who were staining your bandages since they were still bleeding. "So what? I didn't hurt someone innocent so why am I in a room with bars and no way out?" you asked angrily, not caring that you killed someone since you never viewed Black Mask as a person after everything you've seen him and his men do.

The man stared back at you "and this is exactly why you won't be let out until I know that you aren't a danger to the public" he said coldly and walked out with Alfred while you just stood there in shock.

You quickly ran to the door and started banging on it "NO NO NO! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME HERE! I AM AN ADULT! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME" you yelled as you banged to it, ignoring how their footsteps started to sound so far away while you cried and yelled in the room.

#platonic yandere #yandere #tw.alcohol #spider!reader #yandere batfam #yandere dick grayson #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere stephanie brown #yandere duke thomas #yandere cassandra cain #yandere alfred pennyworth #drunk reader

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joonipertree · 11 months ago

Text

part 2!

Pro-racer Mikey that needs to do photoshoots and commercials every once in a while because he's famous and has a pretty face

He's put into his tracksuit or into lavish clothes to pose for the masses and a lot of people realise that Mikey has a presence on the camera that's unshakeable

And so....they decide to have him model for a photoshoot with one of the biggest models of the industry. Which works!! It's fine

They're just pictures.

But then the model posts a selfie of Mikey and her. and she says nothing but puts a heart in the caption.

And the speculations run WILD

Comments upon comments of shipping them together, calling them a power couple.

And you sit there, stuck in a doom scroll as you see one tweet after the other. You stare at your boyfriend, black hair neatly kept and smile wide like it always was, and you see the pretty girl.

And within seconds, you feel stupid for feeling insecure because Mikey had literally spent all morning peppering you in kisses, it was IMPOSSIBLE to pry him off even though he had a shoot and Draken had to come haul his ass up and out the door.

The man had texted you complaining how the food was blegh and how he missed your face.

There's no reason to be jealous.

So you turned off your phone and when Mikey came home, exhausted but very happy to see you....you let him smother you in kisses.

And it's forgotten

Until an unofficial bonus picture was released, on the magazine's Instagram page.

Him and the model, her leaning down as he sits on a chair...his hand wrapped around her wrist while their faces are inches close to each other.

It took three seconds to switch your phone off, throw it away and break down sobbing with whatever rational thought you had leaving your head.

You didn't need to read the comments to know what they were saying. You didn't need to wait until your friend's message you to ask if you're okay, out of pity. You didn't need his friends to call you in defense of him. You didn't need him to realise what had happened.

It was all a PR stunt so why would he even need to apologize. It was just a picture. Two people who were attractive being in close proximity to each other, being ogled by millions...being perceived as perfect for each other. As 'pleasing to the eye'

Now, Mikey was filming a commercial when this happened. He'd been chatting with the co-star while the cameras rolled when he noticed Ken-chin whisper into his phone.

The man looked annoyed, ready to argue but going rigid before sighing.

With a whisper to the director, everything paused as Ken waved his phone and said it was for Mikey. That it was Emma.

There was immediate panic because there's no way it wouldn't be an emergency. And he was right, his eyes widened and body grew stiff in seconds hearing his sister berate him.

For being a bastard, for breaking your heart like that.

She demanded he fixed it and when he was about to ask what was going on.....Draken shoved another phone into Mikeys hand...the instagram page of the magazine opened.

Oh. Fuck no

"I'm leaving." Mikey yelled out, startling everyone in the room, his years of being a gang leader coming out.

"What do you mean---"

Draken blocked the director's view, hands behind his back as he went back into the position of the second in command.

"You heard him."

"He has a contract--"

"He doesn't give a fuck."

#a lil drabble cuz im stressed and #this fic has been brewing #ill write it out properly soon tho!!!!#mikey x reader #tokyorev headcanons #tokyo rev fluff #mikey headcanon #mikey imagines #mikey x you #tokyo rev x you #mikey fluff #mikey sano headcanons #mikey sano x reader #manjiro sano x reader #sano manjiro x reader #manjirou x reader

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rlimagi · 4 months ago

Note

Can you do bridget with a villain GF. Like major Sunshine x Storm or whatever

Perfect Revenge

Pairings: Bridget x Villian! Reader

Genre: Fluff with a splash of reader being a menace <3

Warnings: evil activities?

Note: Hi!! Thank you for your request, this is a bit short but this is the first time I’m writing for Descendants so hopefully you’ll enjoy this! Also thank you everyone else for the requests, I’ll start writing as soon as I get more ideas<3

“Sweetheart, you need to stop being so nice to people who don’t deserve it!” You frowned, voice raising higher and higher the longer you thought of Uliana who recently dropped a bucket of green paint over Bridget’s head.

It was humiliating for Bridget but she still forgave her, the thought made you more angry by the seconds.

“Calm down, baby. The school’s going to flood soon if you don’t, just…it’s fine just stop thinking about this.” Bridget being the angel she was, intertwined your hands with hers to calm you down even when she was the victim of a petty prank.

You sighed, your emotions got the best of you to the point that you didn’t realize that you summoned heavy rain upon the school grounds.

You lifted your eyes off the ground to see other students running inside the school, trying their best not to get too wet.

“Okay, fine…sorry but really, if she touches even an inch of your body again, Ursala might need to come on land to find her precious baby sister’s remains.” You said, smirking as you eyed Uliana and her gangs who were strutting to god knows where but you know it’s not to etiquette class.

“That’s well…good enough! Thank you baby, now stop sulking and go back to class!” Bridget smiled gleefully, giving you a kiss on the cheek before running off to her class before giving you a chance to respond.

Your face reddened at the sudden kiss even if it was only on the cheek. Bridget had always had this effect on you, even in the darkest of days she’ll somehow make it all brighter.

But just to your dismay, Uliana appeared in your sight again but this time she was alone. A smirk rose up your lips. “Sorry, Bridget. You’ve let Uliana off way too many times. She wants to play with fire, but I’ll give her all the elements.”

You silently followed her into the forest, waiting until she was too far from another living being aside from yourself to strike.

You stood on one of the branches of a tree, luckily the trees in the magic forest was big or else you wouldn’t have been able to hide so easily. “Uliana~” you sang out, your voice echoed into the darkness, scaring the living soul out of the villian.

“Who’s there!” Uliana shouted, trying to seem threatening but you could read her like an open book. She was trying her hardest not to tremble

“Is that how you speak to a friend?” You pouted, faking an innocent look as you jumped right in front of her.

“You!” Uliana screamed, her body fuming in anger but before she could utter another word you snapped your fingers. Then her lips was moving but no words came out.

“I?” You asked, pointing to yourself as you tilted your head to the side. “I what, Uliana?” your smile grew wider as the speed of her lips moved faster and faster, yet no words seemed to be coming out.

But clearly, Uliana wasn’t about to let you off so easily. She glared at you and was about to sprint to your way when you ordered the vines on the ground to pull her onto the ground, tying her whole body to the sharp grass.

Let’s say what happened next wasn’t very pretty.

“Yn! Guess what! Uliana hasn’t been bothering me at all lately, I think she liked the cookies I gave her!” Bridget smiled joyfully, placing the plate of cookies aside before running up to you to give the warmest hug ever.

You melted into her touch, nodding to everything she said. “Of course, who wouldn’t like my princess’s famous choco chip cookies.”

Bridget blushed at what you called her, “Your princess?” she pulled away from the hug for a bit to look right into your eyes, it was filled with love and adoration.

“Only mine, got it?” You claimed in a joking manner, grinning when she playfully pinched your cheek.

“Of course, silly.” Bridget cupped your face before pulling you in for a sweet kiss, a kiss sweeter than all the sweets in the world combined.

After pulling away from the sweetest you wished to never be apart from, you saw Uliana from the corner of your eyes. She looked like a deer caught in headlights after noticing your eyes on her, immediately she ran out of your sight.

It was you who made Uliana stop her bullying towards your girlfriend but no one needs to know about that. Especially Bridget, your girlfriend should never know that you tortured someone for hours just for her.

#wlw #rise of red #descendants #Descendants: The Rise of Red #Bridget x reader #descendants 4 #Bridget #queen of hearts #fanfic #descendants x reader

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slasherscream · 23 days ago

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crazy ass boys gang + reader who threatens to leave (part two: CAPTIVITY)

warnings: extreme yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. part one can be found here.

BILLY LOOMIS:

The days move at a snail’s pace. There’s little distraction available to you.

Billy has always thought you were clever. A survivor. It’s one of the reasons he fell in love. That sharpness to you. But it makes you completely untrustworthy, given the circumstances. And the circumstances are this: your life for the last few weeks has consisted of being chained to the bed.

Not all the time. Not when Billy is home, and can watch you. But when he goes to work, or goes off to kill, Billy takes out the cuffs, and meticulously locks your ankles and feet to the bed. The dark look on his face as he does it makes you watch the process in silence.

He’s been killing more often. You hope, absently, that he’s still being careful to not get caught. In the years since you two had been together he’d slowed down.

Now, it feels like every other night, you were watching him get ready to go out as Ghostface.

You can tell when he’ll go out next by how he treats you the day before. You two don’t talk anymore. You eat together in silence. Sit together in silence. He watches the dark silhouette of your body through the shower curtain, in silence. (You’re never alone, anymore, when you do anything. When you’re allowed to do anything. You don’t have even a sliver of his trust left.)

But how he watches you is the tell.

His expression has been a mask of neutrality, since the moment you first woke up, cuffed to the bed.

On the days before he goes out to kill, though? Those are the days where the mask keeps cracking. Small glimpses at the anger sitting in his chest like a second heart, beating steadily. The silence only makes it worse. Makes the anger red hot and blinding.

It’s the icy silence of a lover scorned, on his part. And yours is the fearful silence of the last survivor of a horror movie trying to evade the killer at the end.

The two of you used to laugh together. Laugh, and smile, and love each other. But you, apparently, don’t love Billy anymore.

But Billy still loves you. So he stares at you until he gets too angry to think straight. And he goes out and kills as many people as it will take to keep himself from ever hurting you.

JOSH WASHINGTON:

You’re getting sick of hearing how sorry he is.

He says it endlessly. Like a prayer. Like a compulsion. The words fall out his mouth as easily as breaths do.

It feels like you wake up to his apologies and fall asleep to them each night.

Josh only tied you up that one time, at the start. He apologizes about it often. “I panicked. I’ll never do it again. Not ever. I’m sorry.” You believe him, maybe you shouldn’t, but you do. He’d untied you as soon as you’d begun to rub your wrists raw from trying to get out of the cuffs.

Once upon a time, you used to use those cuffs on him, at the start of everything. Back when Josh felt he was more monster than Human. Back when he didn’t trust himself not to hurt you. You’d obliged him and would cuff him to the bed before you went to sleep each night, even as you whispered: you couldn’t hurt a fly, Washington.

You feel like a fly now, in a nasty spider’s web. But you don’t even bother struggling.

When you’d rescued him from the mountains, his parents had set you both up somewhere remote. Not on another mountain, of course, but in a comfortable cabin out in a forest. No neighbors for miles and miles. Everything you need gets delivered to you twice a month. You used to make the lists of the necessities and send it off to the Washingtons, who were only too happy to give you anything you asked for.

You’re still getting the deliveries, so you guess Josh has taken over that chore of communicating with his parents.

You could run away. You could. But you remember how hard it was to out run the monsters on the mountain. You remember watching your friends die, one by one. By claws and by teeth, as they tried to run away. You watched almost all of them die. Or found their bodies.

Josh wouldn’t kill you. Despite everything, you know he isn’t capable of that.

Sometimes he still reaches out and touches your wrist, where you’d made yourself bleed with the cuffs, and looks sick to his stomach. They hadn’t even left a mark. But Josh stares at your wrists like a kicked dog, like any day, all these months later, they’ll show up by magic.

No, Josh wouldn’t kill you. He wouldn’t even hurt you. But you know you wouldn’t get very far. The forest isn’t a mountain, but it’s close enough. Sometimes you sit on the porch and just look out at all the trees that border the property line, and try to think about how long it would take him to catch you.

Ten minutes? Thirty? An hour? You always make yourself laugh, with that last one.

He’d never let you run for that long. He’d be terrified you’d get lost. Get hurt. He’d drag you back to the cabin, arms a tight-but-never-bruising cage around your waist, and you could claw him to shreds like a hellcat all the while, and you know the only thing he’d say would be: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

You don’t want to hear him say it anymore because it isn’t true. For every apology he gives you, every tearful glance, there’s something beneath it - utter relief, delight, that he’s even able to tell you he’s sorry. That he can reach out and put a hesitant hand on your arm. That he can look over and see you stewing in your anger.

If Josh let you leave he would have been alone. And Josh has been alone before. He can’t handle it. Not for one second longer. So all that’s left to say is sorry.

STU MACHER:

It’s terrifying how normal he acts.

Love had blinded you before. You’re not sure how, but now you can see Stu for exactly what he is. You don’t ever let yourself forget now. You’d made that mistake once, you can’t make it again.

You’re not sure how no one else sees it.

You watch him endlessly. It’s all you can do. Always on edge. Always waiting for him to snap. You watch him at parties while he effortlessly holds the attention of the room. You watch him during dates, while he talks to the waiter like they’re long lost pals. You watch him charm all your friends, all your family. You watch how everyone laughs off all the little creepy things he says. He slips up so often. But he smiles just as often, and his laugh is contagious. The whole world has written him off as an eternally playful man-child. Peter Pan, born again.

You flinch whenever he comes up behind you, draping himself onto your body in that playful way he always has.

You’d never focused on how much stronger he was before. Now, it’s all you ever think about. You close your eyes, and feel the strength in his arms, and plaster a smile on your face, thinking: Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.

He seems to have moved on so completely from it all. You wake up in the middle of the night in tears, remembering how much blood had covered your apartment on the worst night of your life. Stu marked the date on your calendar as your new anniversary.

The heart he made had been comically large, eclipsing the tiny box of the day in red marker. You’d forced yourself to laugh at the enthusiasm and give him a kiss on the cheek. His eyes had been glued to your face. For just a beat too long. You watching him. Him watching you. He’s always watching you now. You feel the burn of his gaze on the back of your neck like a second sun.

You’d felt your smile shaking at the edges. Your eyes starting to sting. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. You begged yourself as those sharp blue eyes scrutinized you. Waiting for you to slip. But you didn’t, so he grabbed you around the waist, dipped you low, and kissed you like you were a lead in a rom-com at the end of the movie.

“We’re almost at our happily ever after, you know.” He’d slyly said at a party with all your friends and family, his arm thrown casually over your shoulder.

He playfully tells your best friend they’re gonna have to help him pick out a ring soon. Everyone laughs and congratulates you. Tells you how lucky you are.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and make yourself laugh too, “Don’t I know it!”

JASON DEAN/JD:

You have to say I love you a lot more.

He doesn’t ask for the words. He never would, beyond saying them first and giving you an expectant look. Green eyes boring into yours, begging you to say it back. You could so easily interpret that expectant look as a demand. But you know it isn’t. It’s desperation.

You say it more because there’s a pit in your stomach. And it twists every time you see how much worse the tangled weeds of that desperation for your love has gotten within JD.

He’s your shadow, more often than not. Like if he takes his eyes off you for just a second too long you’ll disappear. It wouldn’t be an unfounded fear, with the life he’s lived. All that he’s lost.

You don’t know why you said something so cruel to him. So thoughtless. JD pushes because he likes the passion you two share. Because he needs to know you care. Not because he wants to push you away. And now he looks at you like a kicked dog every time he thinks you’re not paying attention. But you’re always paying attention.

You wish you could take the words back. Pluck them from the air and swallow them down, bury them somewhere deep inside you.

I didn’t mean them. I swear I didn’t mean them. I was just stressed. You just push me so much. But you keep those words inside too. It’s bad enough you said them once. You don’t want to remind JD of them. Bring them up again. It’s clear from how he’s acting they’ve been bouncing around his head already.

He’s been more quiet than usual. Trapped in his head. He doesn’t even look up when you walk into the room. The look on his face makes you ache.

You curl up into his side, wrapping your arms around him, and squeeze as tight as you can. So he can feel you by his side, solid and permanent. “I love you, JD.”

He turns to look at you. Those sharp eyes searching for any hint you don’t mean it. That these pretty words are the lie, and the wanting to leave him was the nasty truth.

You meet his gaze head on. You would tell him how sorry you are, but you don’t want to think about how cruel you can be, when you get mad. “I love you.” You repeat, instead.

Finally he smiles at you, “Yeah, I know you do, darlin’.”

KEVIN KHATCHADOURIAN:

You don’t have to pretend you’re happy. In fact, when you try, it makes Kevin very angry.

He never tells you to stop. But whenever you try to fake a little enthusiasm. Put on a little smile you don’t mean… the look on his face is enough to make you feel sick. His expression hardly moves. It’s the look in his eyes. Like he wants to hurt you. Badly.

So you stop pretending.

He demands your presence. Your attention. He doesn’t want your disingenuous attempts to placate him.

You sit in silence more often than not.

You used to try and fill the air between you. The more he would stare at you, the more you would talk. He’d hardly blink. Just watching as you’d wind yourself up under the force of your own anxiety. He rarely told you to be quiet. You think Kevin must’ve liked watching you squirm. Watching you uhm and ah, only pausing for breaths, because otherwise the silence would be deafening. And all that would be left would be the suffocating weight of his gaze.

You don’t bother talking now. What could you say?

Now you stare back. He’d almost looked surprised, the first time. When you turned to look at him, while he looked at you. You didn’t stop until it was time for you to head home.

That’s how you spend all your time with each other now. You arrive at his home. You take off your shoes. You make your way to his bedroom. Sit on his bed. You take a deep breath, and then you stare at him, and he stares back.

You hate him. A very big part of you hates him. An even bigger part of you is terrified of him.

You carry on like this for months. Passing the time. Feeling isolated. Like a trapped mouse, or bird in a cage, even as you live every aspect of your life completely identical to the way you did before you knew what Kevin was capable of. There’s no chain around your wrist or ankle. No guillotine blade on your neck. But the threat is still there, and life feels paper thin now. Like some veil has been pulled back. It all feels meaningless.

You hate him. But there’s no one you can talk to. No one to turn to. You don’t dare turn to anyone else.

So one day, while you’re staring each other down you reach into the space between you on the bed with your hand, and lay it down palm up. Kevin’s eyes flicker down, sizing up your hand, sizing up you. After a long moment he puts his hand in yours.

You go back to staring at each other.

NATHAN PRESCOTT:

Nathan hates the way you flinch when he gets too close.

He tries to be understanding. He doesn’t have a right to be hurt, after what he’s done. It hurts anyway. He just tries not to let it show. He’s sure that would make you angry. Him walking around like a little victim when he fucking kidnapped you. He makes himself angry. He makes himself sick.

But at least he has you. You hate his guts, but you’re with him.

Nathan tries to tell himself that’s all that matters. But he misses the way things used to be like he’d miss a leg that got cut off. Phantom aches all day long. Every time he looks at you, and finds you already looking at him, hatefully. You used to look at him like you’d never get tired of him.

He still wants to know what finally made you tired of him. But he doesn’t have the right to ask. So he doesn’t ask.

He reinforced the cabin so you can’t get out. If you try you’ll have to make so much noise there’s not a hope in hell he won’t hear. He can’t bear to tie you up, or chain you. You’re a fighter, and he’s not much of one, so he probably should. But he can’t. He’d tried and it made him sick. He’d actually thrown up over it.

He keeps you lightly drugged instead.

He’d thrown up over that too. But he had to do something.

He’s always careful about the dosage. Careful about every step of the process. He’ll never mess it up. Not ever. He loves you. He’d hurt you once, and he’ll never do it again. He doesn’t want to fight you. Doesn’t want you to fight each other.

You love each other. It might take a while, but one day you’ll remember that. Until you do, you’ll both stay here, far away from anyone else. Nathan hopes you’ll remember soon.

SEBASTIAN VALMONT:

He’s going to make you fall in love with him again.

If he was stronger he’d let you go. Hell, he wouldn’t have paid someone to kidnap you in the first place. But Sebastian has always gotten everything he wanted. And he’s never wanted anything as much as he wants you. He’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you. Maybe, before you, he never loved anyone at all.

You split his chest open and carved out a space inside him where only you can fit. You’re the single occupant of his heart. Forever. You can’t expect him to just turn it off. Can’t expect him to forget you. He tried, and he failed.

So now he’s going to try something else. He’s going to win you back. Obviously, this isn’t the best starting point. But there have been worse starting points for rekindling a romance.

He hires only one chef and one maid for your new penthouse. He pays them very well to never ask any questions. And to never, ever help you escape. The money is too good to turn down. Life-changing, really. So they never help.

It’s just you and him. The way it was always meant to be.

You do candlelit dinners every night. You wake up, every morning, to flowers outside your door. Sebastian fulfills your every desire. Hangs on to your every word. You can have anything you want. Do anything you want. You just can’t leave. Not yet. Not until you’re in love with him again. Then life can go back to normal.

He’d laughed when you asked him if he was going to keep you in the penthouse with him forever. He laughed until he had to wipe a tear from his eye. Then he leaned forward and kissed you softly. “No, sweetheart, I’m not crazy. Just crazy about you.”

There are a lot of locks on the front door. You’ve never even seen the keys for them. The windows don’t open. Even if they did… the penthouse is twenty stories up, you wouldn’t survive the fall.

Sebastian opens your bedroom door, giving you a smile that’s both cocky and charming. Hiding something behind his back. Another gift. “Good morning, gorgeous.”

You smile. Reflex, and don’t know if it’s because you’re too scared not to, or because looking at him makes you want to smile. Sebastian gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek, the way he does when he’s happy.

Nothing makes Sebastian more happy than getting what he wants.

A/N: we all know it took me forever to do this part two. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. and this fic took too damn long to write. xoxoxo

#billy loomis x reader #josh washington x reader #stu macher x reader #jd x reader #sebastian valmont x reader #nathan prescott x reader #kevin khatchadourian x reader #jason dean x reader #crazy ass boys gang #i cannot stress enough everyone clap for this or ill blow up the building adjkl

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