#ak 47 roll

[gutsby]

Pregnant Pause

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Babymaking is a bit trickier than anticipated, and months have passed with no sign of pregnancy. When your period finally doesn’t show up on time, you and Daryl act fast and head straight for the pharmacy—and get a little caught up along the way.

Warnings: NSFW. Unprotected p-in-v (duh). Daddy Daryl + daddy!kink Daryl. Difficulties trying to conceive.

Note: Part 2 to Grow a Uterus and We’ll Talk. I fully blame @murdadixon and the Blood Ties series for all the pregnancy-related one shots lately - veryyyy much in my Daddy Daryl era now 🫣💓💘

If trying to get knocked up was an Olympic sport, you would’ve won the gold.

On the merits of your efforts alone you and Daryl probably should’ve had several hundred babies under your belt by now. Thousands. The past six months had been nothing but babymaking, a steady stream of rawdog bedroom rodeos and two-person pushups being your primary form of sustenance. But, try as you might, there wasn’t so much as a whiff of a kid in sight after all this time. You were starting to lose hope.

When, one month, your period didn’t make its usual appearance two days after the time it was meant to, you were over the moon with excitement.

Swinging one leg over Daryl’s sleeping form to straddle him in bed, you leaned down and shook him hard.

“Daryl!” you hissed, pinching him under his shirt.

The man below you grunted, shuffled, and blinked uncertainly up at you before slowly raking his eyes over your body and starting to smirk.

“Climb on, cowgirl,” he purred, already starting to tug your panties down.

Your hands quickly covered his and stalled their movements, a giggle bubbling up in your throat.

“Not that, not that!” you whispered, “I’m late.”

“Fer what?” Glancing over at the clock on the nightstand.

“My period.”

Daryl’s gaze darted back to yours. A beat as he processed what you meant.

“No shit?”

“Shit.” You were nodding, beaming.

Daryl hauled himself to his feet in a second, taking you with him. Then he slipped you onto the floor and raced you to the door, practically fighting you through the threshold of the bathroom to get to the cupboards first.

Together, you flung cabinet doors open far and wide and went foraging for little blue boxes in somewhat of a frenzy. Daryl was chucking pads and tampons and rolls of toilet paper over his shoulder while you stuck yourself waist-deep in another stuffy wooden space, searching in earnest for that stupid Clearblue logo.

“Got it!” Daryl chirped. You almost smacked your head on the sink coming out so fast.

“Yeah?!”

Daryl thrust a blue-and-white stick in your direction, grinning with pride.

Your eyes narrowed just a little. Your stomach sank.

“Daryl, that’s a thermometer.”

Your boyfriend’s mouth hung slightly ajar in an ‘o’ shape, and you couldn’t even be mad at his attempt.

Trying to hide your dismay, you sighed and told him to keep looking. You crawled back over to the cupboard and felt a gentle coil just then start to take shape in your stomach—whether that might’ve been a real-life baby or another burst of anxious nerves, you couldn’t be sure. You and Daryl continued to comb over the boxes and bottles lined across your shelves.

That was how your day had started. It continued, at present, outside a largely dilapidated Target Superstore, with your hands on your hips and your eyes scanning a sea of the undead that occupied its front entrance. Shit was worse than any Black Friday crowd you’d ever seen.

“You sure you don’t wanna check the Walgreens?” you asked, tightening your grip on the rifle in your hands.

“Place was overrun last time I checked. Got a camp of military types stationed nearby too. Best ta leave ‘em be,” Daryl answered.

You suspected if anyone came across the two of you now they’d be put off just the same—with the AK-47 in your arms and the crossbow/M4 Carbine combo on Daryl’s person, you probably looked every bit as lethal as you’d ever been.

All for an itty bitty pee stick and some snacks.

You sat down on one of the red cement balls to your left and crossed your arms. You watched the herd. If there was just some way to slip in, sight unseen, and sneak past their rotting bodies to get to the Sexual Wellness section, maybe rappel from the ceiling and drop dead on the spot, go in guns blazing or else just—”

“Mask it,” Daryl said, suddenly.

You raised an eyebrow but quickly had your curiosity quelled when Daryl nodded toward a throng of walkers down the way.

There were four or five of them stacked together, crushed between shopping carts and pinned, interminably, in place as they stood, hissed, and clawed in your general direction.

Daryl had a hatchet in hand in a second. You watched, enthralled, as he made lightning quick work of the walkers, hacking off their arms, dismantling their jaws, and slinging rope around their bodies like they were little more than a miniature herd of cattle. He came back smiling, probably thinking to himself how proud Michonne would be if she could see him now.

“Here,” he hummed. He passed over the rope attached to two jawless walkers like they were pets on a leash.

You accepted it and joined him as he walked, eyeing your newly-tripled group with a curious look.

“Should we—” you started.

“Not naming them,” Daryl said before you could finish.

The six of you trudged along a path of broken glass and steered toward one of the semi-shattered doors. Your stomach started to twist when the sounds of the groaning walkers within reached your ears.

“’S’okay. Nothin’s gonna hurt us with these ugly fucks around,” Daryl murmured to you, glancing back at the doe-eyed, mutilated geeks at your rear.

You nodded silently and followed his lead. The pair of you were practically halfway through the entrance now, making your way past piles of debris and gradually drawing closer to the hissing mob inside. You eyed the looming horde, chewed the inside of your cheek, and yanked your brand new friends a little closer.

And, like magic, the herd hardly stirred when you approached the perimeter. A few parted ways enough to give you entry and, when you’d stepped inside, proceeded to close right back around as if you were one of their own. Not a single snarling mouth or clouded eye turned your way as you and Daryl shuffled ahead, mimicking their moans and hisses and occasionally trading looks as if to say, ‘No fucking way this is working.’

You carried on. Followed by sight where streams of light went pouring in through the caved-in ceiling. Even looked to a couple worn and faded aisle numbers and quickly learned you were much closer than you thought.

You slowed your pace.

“Condoms, 2:00,” you whispered, trying to direct Daryl’s attention to the right.

The pregnancy tests were always stationed somewhere near the condoms—like a warning, you thought. You never could’ve imagined you’d be so happy to see that silent admonition in your life, now, as you and Daryl sidled over to the scattered rows of sexual wellness products and took a closer look.

Daryl reached down, seized a box, and held it up to you.

“Nope. Ovulation test,” you shook your head.

Another.

“Pantyliners.”

“Goddamn, how many pussy products do y’all need?” Daryl groaned, stepping aside to let you check the shelves yourself.

You found a pregnancy test in four seconds flat. You chucked the box his way and grabbed half a dozen more.

Internally, you would’ve loved to celebrate this momentous occasion, but rationally, you knew there were several hundred flesh-eating horrors just waiting for you to fuck up and serve yourselves on a platter a stone’s throw away. Moreover, you were ill at ease—almost fearful—of the result you might get from the tests. After six months of setbacks and cyclic, habitual frustration, you almost didn’t want to know one way or another. You weren’t fit to face another disappointment.

When your gaze flitted to Daryl’s, you saw his expression had softened. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms and cradled your head to his chest.

“Don’t matter what the test says,” he murmured into your hair, stroking it softly, “’m gonna put a damn baby in ya if it’s the last thing I do.”

You surprised yourself by bursting into laughter, not tears, on his front, trying to stifle the sounds in his shirt as he hugged you tighter. You squeezed him back, held him close, and almost forgot your four drooling companions and the many more still prowling about the store. You turned your head up to Daryl.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you too.”

Daryl leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips.

He probably meant it to be a peck, nothing more than a second or two, but when you pulled him in and really kissed him back, he didn’t mind at all.

He walked you back into a shelf, pushed your body as careful as he could so as not to disturb any items behind you. You brought a hand to his hair and threaded it tight through your fingers, prompting the smallest of groans between you. Daryl stepped a little closer.

The second your tongue breached the seal of his lips, you felt a hand slide down to your backside and nudge you up a little, so you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist. Your tongues delved deeper, hands roamed further, and moans took on a volume that likely wasn’t safe at all for your current surroundings. Your four gummy-mouthed comrades stood as silent and still as ever.

“Wanna— have another go for good measure?” you muttered against Daryl’s lips. Hips grinding with his against all your better judgment.

“Couldn’t...hurt,” Daryl groaned in return.

Undoubtedly, it could do more than just hurt you—if those walkers sniffed you out, they’d kill you—but, as it was, neither of your hormone-charged bodies had the presence of mind to say any differently. You and Daryl shed clothes quicker than either of you could comprehend and, within a minute, were back on each other with another flurry of quick, frantic kisses.

Daryl gripped your bare hips, pinned them to the shelf, and almost cursed in your mouth when the whole damn thing threatened to give way.

In a blink, he’d grabbed the metal behind you and was slowly, desperately trying to yank it back while you cast a look around you.

Nothing roaming nearby. At least as far as you could see.

You shifted as though you were going to slide out of Daryl’s arms, but he just drew you closer. Once he’d righted the shelf, he secured his arm underneath you and grinned.

“Wanna take this someplace a little more private?”

You nodded and motioned toward the big ‘Rx’ sign at the end of the aisle. Daryl followed your gaze.

The pharmacy counter would have to do.

You were propped up against the cool surface in no time at all—right after Daryl had tied the walkers to a nearby pole—and suddenly you felt warmth all around. In spite of your nearly stark naked stature, you were enveloped by Daryl’s body, pressed flush against the counter and feeling his touch run every which way he pleased. He kissed, licked, and sucked every supple inch of your skin and acted like it was the first time he’d tasted you in ages. Like it wasn’t last night, and the morning before that, and every day preceding that he’d gotten his fill.

Daryl watched with eyes that drank you in like a novelty, and somewhere deep within you both, you knew you needed this now.

You hardly had a moment’s time to think before Daryl was thrusting inside you. Laying you flat on your back and fucking you hard against the counter with your legs draped over either one of his shoulders.

Daryl fought back a moan when your walls first welcomed him, slow at first, but maddening all the same. You felt a hand drift to your neck and seize it at the base, saw Daryl lean in a little and say, through gritted teeth,

“Tha’s my good girl— take daddy’s cock.”

You whimpered in response, feeling him rut his hips even harder. Daryl squeezed your throat as he did, and, seeing how much you loved it, held it there as long as you could take it before you came gasping for air.

He’d fill you to the hilt, pull out, and do it all again, quietly moaning your name as he pumped in and out.

“Fuck, Daryl, I— fuck,” you tried, and failed, to speak a coherent sentence as the archer picked up speed.

“Wha’s’at, honey? Ya say sumn’?” Daryl pried, pretending like he wasn’t already sending you straight to the brink of orgasm with the force of each stroke.

You hummed in an effort to conceal your moan but ended up letting loose an even louder sound, punctuated by something of a shriek when Daryl delivered a particularly hard blow. You clamped a hand over your mouth and watched Daryl shoot a look over his shoulder. Then he turned back, smirking.

“Didn’t quite catch tha’, honey,” he managed between ragged thrusts, “Wanna moan a little louder so the whole fuckin’ store can hear?”

You shot him a look as if to say, ‘Get fucked’—then pulled him even deeper with your fingers wrapped fast around his forearms. Daryl hardly seemed fazed, simply dropping a hand between your legs and offering another shit-eating grin when your body jolted under his touch.

“Feel good, baby?” he hummed.

You nodded and whimpered. Couldn’t help but clench when he leaned forward and angled your legs higher. Daryl let out a throaty moan.

“Gonna cum f’me?”

Before you could answer, he lowered himself even closer, ‘til your legs were all the way up by your ears and your body was chock-full of pleasure, all but brimming with tears. You tried to nod, found that you could scarcely move, and felt Daryl cup your face in his hand as he continued to fuck you, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip,

“Cum fer daddy, then. Cum all over this cock.”

Daryl knew he didn’t need to tell you twice. In a matter of seconds he felt you come undone beneath him, hands gripping him tight and walls clenching even harder. He caught your lips in a sloppy kiss, tried to quiet your moans, but found himself chasing that high not too long after. He spilled his seed inside you and watched your face contort with pleasure—not from your climax alone, but that pure, primal feel of his warmth spreading out deep within you.

The two of you parted, panted, and grinned in each other’s faces like that wasn’t the single dumbest, and most dangerous, fuck you’d had in your entire lives.

You didn’t need to exchange a word; you knew you shared identical thoughts. Daryl squeezed your thigh.

Twenty minutes later, with your walker quartet in tow, you paced a nervous path back and forth before your car in the parking lot. On the hood sat half a dozen, urine-soaked pregnancy tests with the screens facing down. You stopped and turned to Daryl, eyes locking on his.

“Ready?”

“Flip ‘em.”

[sherewrytes]

I'll always want you

Synopsis: Onyankopon found himself on the outs with you. He wants to find his way back to his one love. C.W: Angst, break up. Cheating Drug use (weed) Reader is black

Fanfic inspired by the following songs.

The weeknd: What you need. The weeknd Coming down

Onyankopon found himself sitting alone staring at the sky from his apartment balcony. He's wondering how things got so messed up. Thinkin' how could he mess a good thing up. He knew he had a good thing with you going but he let his insecurities get the better of him. Now he's sitting staring at the night sky, smoking a cigarette. "It's quiet....a little to quiet." He thinks to himself. He picks up his phone on the table in front of him, scrolling through texts from Eren, Hange, Sasha but not none from you. He sighed, opened Spotify and hit play on the Weeknds song " King of the Fall " He stumped out his cigarette in favor of rolling up a blunt with some AK-47 a strain you put him on. He connected his phone to speakers on the balcony and lit up, trying to clear his mental. He took another pull of his blunt, staring at the night sky thinking "The night has never been so beautiful. It's quiet and peaceful, the city lights make it even better." He found himself staring at the moon hoping the city noise and its serenity can give him the serenity he needs inside. He took another drag of his blunt, fighting back tears as memories flash and flood his mind. Moments shared on the balcony with Y/N staring at the same moon, the same city lights while enjoying nights in.

He heard a ding through the speakers indicating a text, he sees it's Eren. He sighed knowing if he doesn't respond Eren is gonna come over to his apartment and he isn't it in the mood for company

Eren: Bro come on man you sat up your apartment sulkin'

Eren: Sulking aint gonna bring Y/N back

Eren: Man I know you readin' my shit

Eren: Open the fuckin door. I'm outside with Connie and Sasha. Don't make me break down your shit.

Onyankopon sighed and strolled to his front door, blunt hanging from his mouth. He opened the door to Connie holding three pizzas, Eren with 2 six packs of Heineken and a half ounce of Sour Diesel and Sasha with a smile on her face already looking half faded. Ony sighed and opened the door further to let them in. Connie: *eyes Ony from head to toe* For a guy who fucked up his own relationship you sure look stressed.

Ony: The Fuck you said

Eren: Yo let's not start shit right Connie. We're here to chill not square up.

Ony scoffed and sat down on reaching for the half ounce. Sasha pulled the bag closer to her. Sasha: Before I let you smoke yourself insane. What really happened with you and Y/N I thought you said she was the one, so what's this I'm hearin about you fuckin around with Annie or sum shit.

Ony felt the tears welled up in his eyes again, thinking about what he did. He hanged his head contemplating on how to explain this mess. Ony: So... *sighes* I fucked up. I cheated. Y/N and I... We...well...It's not on her...It's on me.. Anyways Y/N and Annie are friends been that way since high school. Yah I know fucked up big time. At the time Y/N and I we were always arguing, she started seeing me less, doing her own thing. I did the same.

We didn't break up or take a break or nun, just arguing and shit. Annie came over to my crib to talk to me about Y/N supposedly being with another dude. Before you ask it's someone, she got paired up with for her fashion design uni course nun serious, but back to it. My dumb ass believed Annie without checkin with Y/N to find out what's going on. I just decided to get faded. Annie started feeling up on me. It was a hot minute since Y/N and I been together like that so I did what a dumb nigga would do, got more faded and fucked Annie. That's not even the worst bit.

Y/N chose that day to come over to my place. She didn't see me, but she heard the sounds. She saw Annie's car downstairs in the lot. She sat out on the balcony and waited. When I walked out my room to get a drink, I saw her... staring at me with such fuckin hate but when Annie walked out of my room, Y/N lost it. Shit got messy quick. At first, I didn't give a fuck cause I thought she was cheating. It's only when she showed me her messages and project shit, I realized i fucked up. that's all I'm willing to get into... I think about that day enough as it is. Sasha sighed handing Ony one of her rolled spliffs. Ony stared at the packed spliff then at Connie and Eren. "You guys don't have to stay here I'm good on my own man" Ony said barely above the music playing in the background.

"It's been what 5 months since then. You hardly come out other than to what go to class or to buy weed. When's the last time you got a haircut or you growing locs now" Connie said with annoyance. Ony just wanted to be left alone he knew they wouldn't leave until he was doing better, so he cracked open the beer and drank it all in one go. Eren and Connie looked at each other with slight concern but didn't say a word. Sasha lit up the spliff and passed it to Connie. The night moved on slowly. Ony was slowly coming out of his funk with his friends around. It was around 1 am when he heard a knock on his door. Connie, Eren and Sasha still at his place choppin' it up. He yelled at Connie to get the door while he went to take a leak. He came out of the toilet yellin "Who the fuck was at the door Conn....... Y/N..." He stood there in shock to see Y/N at his apartment Y/N: I just came to drop this stuff off. It's yours and well the gifts you bought me as well. I don't want them. This is the only time I worked up the courage to drop these off.Ony stared at Y/N....a loud ringing sound in his ears. He realized what her bringing back everything meant. He could see the lil stuffed bunny ears sticking out of the box. He won her that on their first date almost 2 years ago. Ony felt like he was gonna be sick. He stood there just staring at her, trying to figure out what to do or what to say. should he beg, should he just act cold, should he stay silent. Without realizing tears slid down his face. He hanged his head almost immediately. He opened his mouth and not a word came out. He shut his mouth again knowing he doesn't have the words. He continued looking down at his apartment floor and said "uhm...uhm..I..they are your stuff...Y/N I don't want them back." Y/N sighed with a bit of agitation "so you think I want them. Onyankopon just take the box so I can leave. I don't got time for this shit" Delle has never addressed him by his full name always Ony or babe or some nick name. He knew if he raised his head, he wouldn't be able to stop the tears from falling so he turned around and walked straight to the balcony and closed the sliding doors leaving Y/N with Connie, Sasha and Eren Sasha: Y/N really why now girl. You could've just dumped it or gave one of us to bring it for him and it's 2 am. You looking for closure dick. Y/N sighed ignoring Sasha and dumped the box on the floor. she stormed out the apartment only to bring up 2 more large boxes with more stuff. Ony didn't budge from the balcony. Y/N grew angrier. She stormed out the balcony and raised her voice at him. "So, you're gonna sit there and act high and fuckin mighty... you're the one who fucked all this up for what some pussy and my friend at that. Not even a random hoe. My fuckin friend Onyankopon really." Ony stayed silent, he knew he was wrong for what he did and how everything played out. He knows he should stay something, but the silence is the only thing holding his heart together. He wanted to apologize, to beg to say something but he knew Y/N and her kind heart and how much what he did hurt her. He sighed and looked up at Y/N staring her in her face knowing she can see every emotion written all over his face. Y/N stared at his face seeing his brown eyes red from heavy smoke and puffy from crying. Y/N heard the melodies of the weeknd's song Coming down through the balcony speakers. Ony did not say a single word for almost a minute then he said "Y/N I'll always want you. No matter what. *sniffles* I know I fucked up. I don't expect forgiveness or anything of the sort. I deserve what I'm getting. I'm not in the right head space for the conversation we should have. I'm high out my mind and a bit drunk. The only thing I'm good for right now is more weed maybe another drink so right now as much as I want to give you the closure you want, right now I'm not good, so just...I'll.... Y/N cuts Ony off and says "Doesn't matter you have a good fucking life."

Ony watches Delle storm off the balcony and out his apartment. He finally exhaled and let everything out. Eren was the first one outside to console him. He was truly glad that his friends choose to come over tonight.

Next

[thank you to everyone who read this, I appreciate it sm I may do a second part with less angst.. maybe a reunion🥹]

[angellurgy2]

Pull The Trigger

your favourite freak's writing agaain! you ever wanted to read a story about a homophobic gamer boy getting doxxed and raped? well here u go! ^-^ part two coming soon

cw: noncon, forced gay, slurs, shit like that

sandstone brick, towering ahead. trapped in a corner, waiting, ak-47 comfortable in hand. listening, watching, pixel-perfect gaze. the soft pitter patter of booted footsteps approaching on sand. spin, shoot before you see. three shots of triple-round burst to centre mass. dead. 

multiple pings hit the wall ahead of him, pelted at while his back was turned. losing health rapidly. he flicks and sends his barrel spinning 180 in the opposite direction, blind trading fire. 

he screams into his bulky turtle beach headphones as the body in front of him ragdolls, screen blurring with bloody low health warnings. “YEAAAH FAGGOT, YOU LIKE THAT?”

he’s swiftly popped into the win screen, all chat and winner microphones switched on to offer a chance to flaunt or whine. 

[ALL] TriggerFinger: get GUD fags i’ll wipe u in the next one 2 lmao

[ALL] XxxGr1mR3eaperxxX: dude you suck u just got lucky

[ALL] TriggerFinger: i bet u kno a lot about sucking huh?

[ALL] TriggerFinger: just like your MOM

trigger clicks on to queue for the next game, a satisfied gleam plastering his face as everyone else is gone to the aether.

in the top left of his screen as loading screens trawl pops a message from an unfamiliar user. not on his friends list, rather it looks like they’re in the ‘recently played with’ section. probably just another noob coming to rage.

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: that was pretty rude, you know.

‘ThAt WaS pReTtY rUde-’ what a beta.

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: why shld i care? get a life faggot. lmao

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: you really shouldn’t talk to people like that.

this guy’s clearly got some form of retardation keeping him from getting the hint. but trigger’s got better shit to do. the loading screen for this game always takes so long. he grabs a pack of shrimp tempura cup ramen off the nearby shelf and fills it with day-old water from his water bottle, shoving it in the microwave for a couple minutes. he numbly trawls through social media feeds, doomscrolling the beautiful faces on instagram before that gets boring, then the stale porn on twitter, then the ragebait on 4chan. nothing satisfying his appetite except this one clip of some guy eating shit on his first try skateboarding, which too is ethereal in the drips of serotonin it gives.

ding!

he grabs his soppy steaming meal and brings it back over to his computer, stirring it with a stray fork before moving back into the screen. the first thing he sees is another message from the same person as before. he rolls his eye and opens the notification.

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: this you? 78.222.0.13

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: TF?? 

he thinks he’s so cool. trigger quickly tabs over to chrome, typing into the address bar ‘whats my ip ad-’ before it autofills. he clicks in, praying for the release of the little ball of stress slowing spreading in his chest. only to have it implode. IPv4… 78.222.0.13

ok. well, he’s probably just trying to scare you. theres not much you can do with a few numbers. he remembers the streamers he’s watched being ddos’ed and how freaked out they’d always get. he can’t find that humour in the angered horror on their faces now, though.

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: thats not my fuckin IP asshole. ur not funny

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: i think it’s pretty funny.

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: see you soon :)

trigger looks around his surroundings. nothing around, just the same open bland studio basement. mattress on the floor, check. couch, check. tv, check. tiny window that shows literally nothing but a foot of grass? check. its hard for him to hide the scowl of hatred at this empty rotting enclosure. shit, did you lock the door? he runs up and flicks it locked like how a child runs up the stairs when they’re scared a monsters behind them. not because of this ‘specter’ though. just normal precaution. he wouldn’t let another man take up space in his mind like that.

trigger sits. unable to pull his focus enough to start another game, or to divest himself entirely. stuck in a limbotic resting space. he grabs the monster can sitting on his desk - one of many - and pours it down his throat with anxious franticity. after staring at the screen for long enough, with nothing else he can see to do, he types.

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: What r u talking about? fuckin weirdo

10 minutes pass.

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: hello?

nothing at all. empty threats and childish games. who puts in that much effort just to cause a little scare? freak, probably a faggot too.

he sighs and switches over to spotify, plugging his favourite XXXtentacion album into his grindy bluetooth speaker and grabbing a pre-roll from his weed drawer. a rusted old lighter folds between his fingers. flick, flick. hot choking mist fills his mouth and then suffuses his screen as he blows it back into the stale air. he lies idly spinning in his gaming chair, puffing until its gone and until the words leave his head. empty.

but not for long, apparently.

a resoundingly loud knocking thuds at his door. earthquaking enough to shake him out of his seatlock. but the tremors remain, rocking through his veins. he gingerly lowers his eye to the peephole. a short man looks up from a foot away, holding some sort of black bag. this is it trigger, time to man up. he paces back with soft steps, pulling a steak knife from the block and holding it behind his back. no more games, this is real life. no more being harassed by that bitch landlord, no more bad looks when mom and dad visit. when the police find him beaten and you on top you won’t have to feel bad anymore.

he opens the door.

“Hello. uber for trig?”

he doesn’t remember ordering any food, was he really that faded?

“it’s… trigger. but that’s me, yeah.”

the man passes trigger an unlabelled brown bag from the bigger unlabelled black bag. something liquid seeps out of the corner.

“have a great night, sir!” 

trigger tosses the bag onto the table already scattered with trash. throwing the knife onto the counter along with it. being paranoid is the sign of a weak mind, you need energy. he thinks about the shrooms his bro gave him a couple weeks back, saved for a special occasion in a box under his bed. the devil and angel on his shoulders scream.

he examines the food. taco bell crunchwrap and spilled soda, amazing. he begins to clean it up right as a CLFBKGBNJ clanging from the kitchenette behind his back rings out. he turns to see a tall, muscley imposing man already towering over him from there. backing up slowly, like hes a blind animal that’ll pounce at any moment. 

“hey there.”

“hi???” his words spit out with a spiteful acidity, tantrumic. 

“you must be trigger.” his monotone face twists upwards into a cruel mockery of a smile. he examines trigger up and down, who shivers at being ogled like meat.

he hears his dad in his head. puff up your chest, faggot. you can’t let people walk over you like a little bitch all the time. he straightens his back, stops retreating. his voice mimics a tough deepness.

“you need to g-get the fuck out of my house.” 

specter tilts his head with curiosity. trigger can feel the aftershocks of monster and adrenaline crumpling his heart as he looks into the intruders eyes. a dark jade gazes back, blank. empty. like null space inside his skull, giving off only the aesthetic of a watching being. beyond the entrancing holes, partially hidden behind curtains of frayed brown locks, a jagged scar cuts through his face, curved and serrated with the impression of its assailant. 

“it’s not really your house though, is it?” 

trigger stares back dumbly. specter lifts up a chiseled arm and knocks on the roof, indicating where the landlord resides. “it’s theirs, really.” he takes a step forward.

“what’s your fucking problem man?”

another step back. guarding facade broken as quickly as it was put up. you’re weak. pathetic. he can smell it on you, just like they all can.

“here to give you an attitude adjustment.” he says it so monotone, like reading a script. as if you should know what that means. specter gives a wide scan of the interior. sizing up your crime scene? this won’t be going the way you think it will, buddy. “this is a pretty shit place you got here”

“not any more shit than the goon cave you probably got, bitch” 

the molded smile on specter’s face drops in a second. in 3 sudden steps forward he closes most of the gap between them, the air between the two grows cold. trigger has no choice but to back up more to keep the feeling of safety. the distance between handler and beast, but there’s no leash here. and there’s no medic to save him.

“listen.. s-specter? right?” he looks into those dead eyes with a quiver hes kept hidden for so long.  “i'm sorry i insulted you or- or whatever i didn’t mean it okay? that’s just online shit, this isn’t real.”

specter takes another wordless step, and trigger hits the wall. this isn’t real.

“why so quiet all of a sudden?” his hand reaches out and cups triggers chin, his face too frozen with animalistic chemicals to react. forcing trigger’s weak inebriated gaze to meet his, dead yet malevolent. “are you scared of me?”

trigger spits in his face. “you- couldn’t. scare me.”

untrimmed nails dig sharply into the base of his skull. “i will.”

“my dads the chief of police. you don’t wanna do this.” he tries to put on monotone the best he can, head as swirly with emotions as it is.

specter chortles. “no he’s not”

the music emanating from trigger’s desk scratches hard as it changes into a fast-paced track. specter’s eyes and ears twitch in its direction like a bat.

“this is what you listen to?” his smile almost looks genuine this time. he gestures at the ground below them. “stay here.”

he turns and moves to walk past trigger, when he jumps into action, leaping at the man with a guttural yell.  “AA-”

immediately cut off by searing blunt force ripping through his gut, sending him crumpling to the floor with the force of extraneous gravity. so you’re a warlock, subclassed into gravitational magic, is that it? he gets up onto his hands and knees, a trail of saliva connecting his lips to the dirty linoleum floors. he chokes on each breath he tries to take in. the pain is unlike anything his soft and unexplored body has experienced before. 

specter walks away to the booming speaker, pulling out a black rectangle from the pocket of the black jeans sticking to his legs.. the speakers switch to a new track, unfamiliar to his ears. some kind of aggressive rapping, underscored by a metallic sharp noise groove. he tries to listen for words, analyzing the rhythm and slotting it with memories of other songs to try and figure out what it is. but before he can comprehend the first words to come out, a rigid boot crashes into the side of his ribs.

dazed on the ground, heaving for the little pieces of air that’ll fit through his trachea, cartoons birds twirling over his head as he stares up into the ceiling. 

a sharp sound cuts through his stupor. “you’re funny” says specter, “i really thought you’d have more fight in you.”

PHWACK. the sound of some elastic material slapping against skin, a black glove clinging to specter’s boney hand.

trigger’s shocked by the feeling of cold on his bare stomach, face twisting with rage but the rest of the body betrays him with frozen fear. specter begins to slowly lift triggers shirt, feeling up his concave flesh with rubber digits.

specter flinches back as a red handprint manifests on his cheek. i wasnt even thinking i didnt mean to i just-

a vice grip takes hold of his windpipe, holding it hostage. the hand begins to rise upwards, holding him against a wall that wasnt there two seconds ago, and then he has to fight with his noodlish body to stand up before it rips his throat right out. “you’re so weak. how did you make it so long, bullying people like that?” his other hand then puts itself to use. the cold rises up triggers body slow and nerve-wracking. he tries not to feel it and to just keep his eyes on him. the tangible, hurtable, beast. 

his mind lags from his body, not realizing he’s on the ground before he already is. terrifyingly strong knees spreading his legs apart ever so slightly, invading hand-shaped ghosts pinning him into the dirty floor face-first. months of uncaring habitation coming back to bite him in the ass all at once. his eyes jump from little pieces of dust and crumbs, filling his vision more than their existence is intended for. brought low with the trash. maybe you should’ve listened to mom.

a bottle squirts loudly out of his sight. he tries to spin his head around but he’s just met with increased pressure on his neck, pinning him down like meat on a butcher’s table. fuck this. thrashing out with all the strength in his limbs- it forces specter to change up his positioning, but even then you can’t make a single scratch, slapping at this very real intruder like a whiney little girl. 

“stop it.” he says it like he’s talking to a petulant child, dry and tired.

“fuck you! get off me!” 

a rubbery object shoves itself down his throat as he opens his mouth to yell more obscenities. fingers ripping open his jaw, dispelling his pleas into inhuman garbling.  

“reht rre throo!” 

he looks around, there has to be something he can do. everything is dark blobs because of his eyes wetting from the fingers assault of his uvula. heavy whispers assault the back of his neck, venom in his blurred ears. “i could take out a tooth. how about that?”

he shakes his head, as much as he can crushed between these manly hands. 

water trickles down from the corners of his eyes. fuck, don’t let him see you crying, that’s the ultimate defeat. man card revoked. the only benefit of this positioning is that only the tile can see your face’s treason.

the hand abruptly leaves and moves back to the rest of his body. not preferable, but at least now his eyes will stop coating themselves in water. there has to be something on this floor somewhere if he can look. 

blood coats his vision. bloody floor, bloody nose, face shoved into a pool of it. he can feel his nose contort under the hard material, head bouncing off it with a loud crack.

‘look’, you shouldve known better. thousands of hours of experience watching torture scenes in COD, and you think he’s gonna give you a break? you’re not the shooter like you thought you were, you’re just the dead russian snitch. 

slender hands dip under the waistband of his sweatpants, threatening with slow dragging downwards. fuck, he is a fag. so much screaming in his head, be a man be strong fight back faggot stop being a fucking BETA. but the weak trembling in every inch of his nervous system won’t let go. the part that knows what you are. weak little soyboy. shit, was it the burger king? he looks at the softness of his tiny arms splayed out in front of him, thinking back to all those impossible whoppers he had during that first (and last) year of college. sure there were the conspiracies but- he had to lose some weight and it was right next to his dorm and surely a little bit of hormonal meat couldn’t hurt anyone. well, apparently not. he shudders at the thought of all those tiny little girl particles running around in his bloodstream.

coldcoldcoldcoldcold fuck. something cold and wet drips down his ass, sending rippling twitches through his body. something small pokes and prods, forcing the wet inside, already he feels speared through, he has to purposefully hold his face together to not burst into open sobbing. 

“shhh sh sh. it’s okay. you’ll take it.” 

it pulls out, a hot emptiness filling all feeling. another squirt, and more wetness shoved so deep he cant handle in the choking cries. “please. please don’t. i don’t- i’m not-” cut off by the finger pulling out again, leaving his hole gaped. “Fuck stop im not gay pleasepleasepleasepl”

a sweaty palm wraps over his mouth.

something warm and hard and fleshy begins to rub circles around his hole. pressing up so close his breath hitches in fear it might go in and then pulling back and then repeating.

“be a good boy and stay quiet, trig.”

pushing pushing pushing pushing pushing pushing

“HEEEEELPP WAIT PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE HELP NONONONONONONO STOPP#&$*%9

&$#%^#^%)#!($#$^%

##&% %%#(% %$$*$#&

*#$&$THELP

* * *

specters hard chest presses up close and warm against trigger’s back. hot, heavy breathing forces its way into his ear. they stay there for a moment, frozen in time. a breaking point cut, getting a cinematic view of his own ruination. what a shitty fucking movie this is. 

“mmhng-” specter pulls back, breaking the trance, almost making trigger wish he would’ve just stayed inside. he grunts at the feeling of trembling boyflesh seizing on his cock, shaking with each inch moved in either direction, clenching for dear life. he grips a handful of trigger’s hair and pulls it back, forcing his limp and drooling expression into specter’s vision.

 “so, what was it?” the burning rod of pressure starts to move faster, thrusting with detached force, muscular hips bouncing off trigger’s ass. “dad beat you?” another assault forward, enunciating each bit of words with the slapping of their flesh. “mom molest you?” it hurts sososososososososo bad but he cant feel anything other than the pain nothing but searing waves of some long-forbidden feeling. “or- fuck- you just get bullied too much in those squishy formative years?”

boiling hot rain streams down his face, terror burning his eyes blind. choking sobs spit out little bits of snot and saliva pooling with his tears below him in a sad filth soup. 

“oh c’mon-” specter reaches in closer, thoughtlessly pushing his cock into a switch that turns triggers legs to jelly. a waterfall of tears overlaid with shameful noises, the kind he’d before only ever heard through the speakers of a computer. each one abrading his will even more. he was supposed to be on the other side, not this. anything but this. 

“please stop”

“it’s too late.” his hand brushes triggers cheek, mimicking a comforting motion with uncomfortable skin, “you can never take back what’s already happened… and what’s about to.”

[the-loss-of-my-life]

The Markut

HEY PEOPLE! THIS IS MY MARKUT!

$7 Candy - Reese's, Kit Kat, Starburst, Jolly Ranchers, M&Ms, Laffy Taffy, Hershey, PEZ, Tootsie Rolls, Dubble Bubble, Air Heads, Jelly Belly, Twix, Skittles, Blow Pop, Sour Patch Kids, Swedish Fish, Gum Drops, Dum Dums, Twizlers

$20 Weed - Cherry, Pineapple, Blackberry, Blueberry, Blue Dream, Gelato, Wedding Cake, Sour Diesel

$10,000 Pew Pew's - AK-47, Pistols, Rifles, Shotguns, Hand guns, BB gun, Sniper Rifles, etc

Other stuff:

$100 for Snowball:

Stolen Jewellery:

$20 Rings:

$100 Rolex's (Trying to steal some of Mr. Stark's):

Kinder Eggs - $6.00

OTHER STUFF JUST ASK AND I'LL GET IT!

Don't let my dad find out

[running-with-kn1ves]

Hi! This might be the weirdest prompt you'll ever recieve considering I was inspired by a nightmare I had. The nightmare was about a male stalker who posed as a delivery person that managed to trick me into letting him walk into my home with an ak-47 and for some reason I was attracted to him just because he had the nicest most comforting smile i had ever seen.

So yeah, idk if you would ever be comfortable with writing something inspired by this especially because this is supposed to be an nsfw prompt.

Sorry for potentially traumatizing you.

This was really incheresting anon so I took my own spin on it, wish I could have such entertaining dreams!

TW: Guns/gunplay, breaking and entering, threatening, nonconsensual touching,

"You can come in!"

You shout from the kitchen, seeing a dark figure outside your front door window, their body blurred and mildly shaped from what you can tell past the sweat and flour in your eyes. You had been slaving away in the kitchen for hours and finally, your masterpiece was nearly finished. You were too entranced in checking the top layer of crust on the baked good to dare leave your spot. The sound of your front door opening was just as you expected, its slam shut being a bit harder than you hoped for though.

"Just put it on the dining table, I'll be over with the money in a sec," You yelled, checking behind you to try and see the figure in the dining room. You could only see the back of a black coat and old ball cap, turning back to the pie in your hands as you opened the oven. Its grilling temperature made you wince, pot holds covering your hands as you lowered the beast back into its den.

You got out as quick as you could once the pan was down, shutting the oven door and stepping back. Phew, you sighed out of relief.

Nonchalantly walking to the dining room, you rolled up your sleeves and peered at the ground, trying to think of what else you'd need to be prepared tomorrow. But that was thrusted out of your head once you looked back up upon entering the room, seeing your cold pizza sitting on the dining table alone-- no pizza man to be seen.

"Hey?" You called out, looking down your bedroom hall in search for the man. He wasn't there. You looked in the bathroom; empty. Your room was left exactly how it should've been. Walking back to the kitchen, you remain naively unaware until a hand grips your shoulder from behind.

The hand yanks you back up against someone, something cold now resting below your chin. The arm that pulled you now holds you flush up against the person, whom you can tell is a man. The smell of his aromatic body wash, the flat and strong chest against your back-- and most notably, his voice.

"You're quite simple to fool."

You catch a glimpse of his beaming smile from behind, the cold and metallic piece digging deeper into your throat.

"H-hey now,"

You begin to panic, feeling the hand on your body beginning to feel your shirt in a different kind of way.

"Listen there's no... no need for violence, we can settle this can't we?" you plead.

The man looks toward you.

"I don't know, can we? Because I can't imagine a better way to see you than this. Tsk tsk, you should've known better."

You notice that his cap is still hanging low on his head, shielding his eyes from you, leaving you only to witness his piercing grin.

"C'mon just let me go, man. I don't have anything to give--"

"I'm afraid that's a no can do, sweetheart. See, you left yourself quite an open target here, just letting a complete stranger in your home, assuming you'll be safe because of your poor preconceived notions..."

He drew the gun to caress your jaw, putting a leg between yours. His warm breath ghosted over your neck, and you could practically feel the smile he held as he embraced you slowly.

"What... do you want, then?" You ask, feeling the gun dig into your stomach now.

"Hmmm..." You were dealing with an actual sociopath at this point, hearing his nonchalant hums with disdain and fury. He was just standing there, running his fingertips up your stomach and against your hip as he imagines what ever sick thing he had in store.

"I want you to stay still..." He mumbles in your ear, taking his free hand to the middle of your shirt as the other kept the gun pointing at you. You could feel his lips hit your ear as the first button was undone, fingers moving to the next.

You watched silently as each button was pried open, your heart racing faster at each unclip, and the urge to run growing stronger. Soon, your bare skin was seen through the shirt, a jagged breath escaping the man behind you. It sent shivers up your spine to hear his pants of curiosity and hunger.

"Please..." You whisper, turning to try and face him, but he was too close. His head was buried in your shoulder, eyes watching as his free hand ran up to the dip of your chest. His hand slowly made its way up to your neck, smoothing over your skin like a snake in water. You couldn't see his expression below his ball cap, but you knew it must've been one of sick intrigue. The softness of his touch was off-putting as he gently stroked your skin like it was foreign and unique.

"Can't say you look too bad like this, either." He comments, taking annoying wet nibbles at your ear just to tease.

You shakily try to cover yourself, only for the gun to be brought to your gut, stabbing you in the abdomen as he presses it deeper against you. You yelp in pain as he grabs your hip, forcing you back against the cold black steel. It was a silent warning, and the man had kept quiet as he watched you wince.

"I can be truly giving, and incredibly delightful." The man smiled, this time close-lipped as he looked to you. "But fuck with me, and I won't hesitate to put this gun where it belongs."

You shut your eyes as he whispers to you, creating a clicking noise with the gun to frighten you.

"Now, strip. you need to be taught the importance of not letting anyone just dilly-dally inside your home."

He pushes you forward, jutting the gun out to point it at you as your arms raised defensively.

"Who knows what could happen if I wasn't here to teach you."

[jiangwanyinsimp]

An Incomplete (and Very Long) list of thing Edwin Payne missed while he was stuck in Hell

This list emerged because I was talking about how he would have missed the end of World War One and then the list kept going. It is not complete or in order, and is provided simply for posterity

ww2

spanish flu

the hindenburg disaster

the rise of public radio

Irish independence

fast food as a concept

the hinterkaifeck murders

the extinction of the california grizzly

the discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb

television

jet aircraft

supersonic aircraft

the moon landing

THE OFFICIAL FOUNDING OF THE SOVIET UNION

the jazz age

surrealism

the first woman to swim the english channel

the BBC

Amelia Earhart

Tintin

the discovery of Pluto

the crash of airship R101

the founding of porsche

the geneva convention

UK abandonment of the gold standard

the discovery of 22 elements on the periodic table

technicolor

Australia starting and losing the Emu war

the creation of the Royal Christmas message

the Great Depression

FM radio

the first canned beer

pre-sliced bread

the recognition of stress as a biological condition

the extinction of the thylacine

the destruction of the Crystal Palace

the first full feature length animated film (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs)

the nylon bristle toothbrush

Batman

the last use of the guillotine for an official state execution

Gone With the Wind (the book AND the film)

the founding of Greggs

Looney Tunes

the discovery of the Lascaux cave paintings

Agatha Christie's works

Cheerios

the discovery of nuclear fission and all subsequent nuclear discoveries

the airplane ejection seat

The Little Prince

LSD

the lifting of the prohibition of married British women working as teachers

the disappearance of flight 19

the first formula one grand prix

Mensa

the invention of the magic 8 ball

the Doomsday Clock

the AK-47

the first commercial microwave

the Kinsey reports

the first time Idaho Fish and Game parachuted beavers into the wild

humanity's entry to space

the beginning of the broadcast of the Archers (the longest running present day drama by number of episodes)

the Korean War

the polio vaccine

the first nuclear powered submarine

The Lord of the Rings

Moomins

transistor radio

the TV dinner/ready meal

ICBMs

the entire life of Elvis Presley

Kermit the Frog

My Fair Lady (the film and musical adaptations)

Grace Kelly's wedding

the Entire Life Of Marilyn Monroe

the Beat Generation

Eurovision

Helvetica typeface

the peace symbol

the Cod Wars

computer games

Dyatlov Pass incident

Barbie

Missile Mail

the Declaration of the Rights of the Child

the MOSFET

particle accelerators

the Beatles

the recovery of the Vasa

the first Six Flags

Breakfast at Tiffany's

Catch-22

the Vietnam War

Silent Spring

The Rolling Stones

the night of the long knives

Vatican II

James Bond

the Cuban Missile Crisis

Thích Quảng Đức's self-immolation

the "I Have A Dream" speech

JFK Assassination

the smiley face

Mary Poppins (1964)

IntelSat

the last British execution

high speed rail

the first time "fuck" was said on british tv

the Moors Murders

the Grateful Dead

the British parliament decriminalizing homosexuality

most of the literary career of Pablo Neruda

Fleetwood Mac

the Parker Morris Standards

the end of steam passenger travel in the UK

Led Zeppelin

Earth Day

the first temporary artificial heart

the first person to row an ocean solo

Woodstock

the Zodiac Killer

the nationalization of Rolls-Royce

decimalisation of UK currency

the first e-book

the first microprocessor

DB Cooper

the first email

the Biological Weapons Convention

Watergate

the start of the Troubles

The Joy of Sex

all attempts to climb Mount Everest and the eventual first ascent

ABBA

the invention of the Rubik's Cube

the Moorgate tube crash

the first Cricket World Cup

the global eradication of Smallpox

Star Wars

the Tenerife airport disaster

the discovery of the rings of Uranus

Red Rum winning three Grand Nationals

the Concorde

the start of the broadcast of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Jonestown

Synthetic insulin

the Thorpe affair

the release of God Save the Queen by the Sex Pistols

Monty Python

the election of Margaret Thatcher

Star Trek

Iron Maiden

the incident where the dingo ate a baby in Australia

the end of iron and steel production in the UK's Black Country

the first London Marathon

Charles and Diana's wedding

the church of England votes to elect women to holy orders

the 1981 UK tornado outbreak

the first child born by IVF

the Falklands War

the raising of the Mary Rose

the invention of ciabatta bread

the discovery of the Titanic

the King's Cross Fire

Top Gun

Lockerbie bombing

[kindnessisweakness2]

3

Sitting on one of the bar stools in the clubhouse, a bag of ice resting on her hand, Emily was crimson red with embarrassment. "I'm Sorry, this is not how i expected things to go. I seriously just wanted to sign the paperwork and go." Jax smiled at her panicked expression. "Its fine Darlin'. Its his own fault for not getting the hint." Tig chose that moment to pipe up. "Did you mean it tho? About fucking every man that dont have an old lady. Cuz if you did, I'm first yeah?" Emily started to laugh and immediately Jax knew he loved the sound. "Sure, Why not!" She was glad no one was pissed at her for causing trouble. "Ignore him, he's a pervert." Jax rolled his eyes as Tig glared at him, but before anyone else could say anything the clubhouse door was slammed open. Emily watched as a young blonde woman with hardly any clothes came storming in. "Im guessing your Emily?" She questioned with all the attitude she could muster. Not even moving from the bar stool, Emily nodded at the girl. She was completely confused. She'd never laid eyes on this woman before and there was clearly an issue. "You've just broke my old mans nose! How fucking dare you!" The woman screeched. Emily's eyes widened in shock, but laughter came tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop it. "Oh my god. Your the whore with the lace panties!" Turning to Jax, Emily raised both hands up and giggled. "Mystery Solved!" Turning back to the very angry blonde. "Hate to break it to you sweetie, but if your expecting prince charming you are sorely sorely mistaken. Dont expect good sex, he's shit in bed. But im guessing since your already so uptight and moody you already know that. Also You'll have to have his dinner on the table when he's home, he wont eat it but he wants it there, even just to throw it away. Dont expect gifts on your birthday or even your anniversary. Oh and Dates? No youll never get them, unless you pay the bill. 6 years i was with thats asshole and hes never brought me so much as a drink!" Emily laughed again at the shock on the womans face. "And just so you know. That amazing bike he no doubt rode you around on? I paid for it sweetie!" Emily picked her drink up from the bar and took a sip. "So good luck, your welcome to the absolute waste of a man." The woman was clearly lost for words as she stomped back out of the clubhouse without another word or a backwards glance. "Was that mean?" She asked Jax and Tig. Jax shook his head. "No, i dont think so." He smirked at her. And even in her angry scorned state she couldnt help but think how fucking sexy he was.

"JAX!" The man she now knew was called Chibs, shouted. His voice echoed through the clubhouse. Worriedly all three of them made their way outside, just in time to see a police car drive in and David Hale exit. Jax groaned in frustration. Fuck. This was the last thing the club needed. Expecially since they have 6 oil barrells in the garage, each full of a dozen unassembled AK-47'S. Stepping in front of Jax, she pulled her hair out of her messy bun, took off her button up and shifted her breasts in her bra to extenuate her cleavage."Leave it with me." She hissed at him and made her way over to the deputy swaying her hips a little more than necessary, Gemma quickly following behind her. "Hey David, Hows it going?" She spoke softly leaning against the police car. "Hey Emily. Had a call about a fight. Just came to check it out." He eye'd the club who were stood watching the scene unfold. "Yeah sorry that was my fault." Raising her bruised knuckles and pouting. "Bit of a domestic, but everything's fine now. Noah's at St Thomas if you want to take a statement. I punched him, broke his nose i think. I accept all charges. This isnt anything to do with SAMCRO. Its me you need to talk to." David looked to Gemma, "That true?" He questioned. Gemma raised her eyebrows. "You heard her." The look of frustration on David's Face made Emily want to laugh but she held it back. "Do you need a ride home? I dont think you should stay here with them. There not good people Emily." A Scowl settled on her face at his comment. "I can look after myself, Thank you David. Think Jax might take me home, ill take a harley over a cop car anyday." David went bright red at the comment. Clearing his throat, he nodded and got in his car. She blew him a kiss and a wave as he drove out of Teller Morrow. Gemma eyed the young girl as she put her bright hair back up in a messy bun. She was trouble alright. "What the fuck was that?" Gemma questioned as the rest of the club made their way over. "What? i had to help since i caused the trouble. You want him looking for an excuse to search the clubhouse. Do you think im completely stupid to the shit you guys do? David Hale has had a thing for me since the day i moved to Charming. I was using what i know to get him to fuck off. It worked didnt it?" Emily Snapped. It had been a long day and so much shit has happened she didnt have the mental capacity for another argument. "Listen Mamma Bear can i just sign this fucking paperwork? I've been here almost all day." Gemma couldnt help the smirk that settled on her face.

She liked this girl.

[averagewriter777]

Ghost and Doc (Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader)

Masterlist

(Chapter Thirteen)

TW: Child trafficking

(141’s POV)

Ghost slammed his fist on the building, then hopped down from it, rolling to break his fall. When he stood up, Alejandro, Soap and Gaz were waiting with very stressed looks on their faces. Price had the tracking handled, so they were just waiting for him to get back to them about a possible location.

“That entire party was full of women who were being prepared for that trafficking business,” Soap muttered while rubbing his wrist. “The people seemed to be sponsors or some shit for it. The women attending as guests are victims.”

Alejandro nodded grimly. “They handed me a stack of pesos while talking to the sergeant.” He squared his shoulders while sighing. “I saw it happen a lot. The money was around 10,000 United States dollars for the sergeant, 194,667 pesos. Different people received different amounts based on the woman.”

Holy shit. Ghost shuffled his feet uncomfortably. Soap made a disgusted face and spit at the ground. Gaz let out a shaky sigh, despite having watched everything. “More of the reason to get her back. I think that was the highest amount paid for somebody,” Soap grumbled.

“If you girls are done talking, I have Sergeant (L/n)‘s final location.” Price’s voice through the static filled the area, and everyone shut up to listen intently. “An abandoned warehouse on the coast. Be prepared for anything. Remember that we need the target alive, everyone else you have permission to kill, copy?”

Everyone repeated ‘copy’ back and the mission was set to go. Ghost lifted a tablet that was given- in case this happened- and pointed at the location sent by Price. “I know where that is. I’d suggest we all change into gear, hermanos. I didn’t make our suits bulletproof.”

-

When you woke up in your position, your head was pounding and your mouth was dryer than the Sahara Desert. You’d been in a sitting position up against a cold, metal wall. Despite the amount of pain that was everywhere in your body, you did your best to stand up, holding onto the bars around you for support.

“It’s no use you know,” a petite, hoarse voice said from under you. You looked down, your breath hitching in your throat. “We’ve… We’ve tried everything.” She was young, probably around thirteen or fourteen, and she looked beaten.

Instead of continuing to stand, you dropped down to a crouch- very slowly and examined her. “I’m here to help, I promise.” You didn’t reach for her, or touch her, because only God knows what this kid has been through. “Do you have a name?”

“Kensie,” she mumbled, not meeting your eyes. The girl curled up into a ball and stared at the stone floor. You took it as she didn’t want to talk anymore, and went back to figuring out how the hell you were going to get out of this inhumane cage.

While you waited for the next round of guards to walk towards the cage, you formed a half-assed plan in your head. In this situation, and in a fucking mermaid dress no less, it would be the best you could do. When you saw one man carrying a very nice AK-47, you whistled to call him over. “Hey, guapo!” He turned his head and started his walk towards you, lowering his weapon just a little bit. When he got close enough to the cage, you reached out to grab the collar of his shirt and slammed his head against the metal bar. Instead of staggering back, you turned his body around and put him into a chokehold, snapping his neck when given the opportunity. 

You bent down and picked up the gun, making sure it had plenty of ammo in it. “Alright, assholes… c’mon…” The dead body was picked up again, sort of as a cover just in case- and it looked suspicious enough for someone to approach. What you had to watch out for, however, was the fucking man in the white suit who’d you’d talked to at the party. Can’t shoot him- as much as you want to.

“¿Has oído algo junto a las jaulas?” Several footsteps started to approach the side of the room. You made sure your finger hovered over the trigger and looked over the dead man’s shoulder. “Alex, ¿todo bien?”

Your finger pressed the trigger of the gun after aiming for their heads. The volume of the weapon was something you hated, but there was nothing else available around for you- and quite frankly, you were pissed off.  “Karma’s a bitch, pendejos.”

There were sounds of gunfire all throughout the building, but you were more worried about getting out of this cage. You reached into the pocket of the body you’d used as a shield and tried four keys before the fifth finally unlocked the cage. As the door opened and you were reloading the gun, and picking up a knife from a body, you turned to face Kensie, who was rocking back and forth. “C’mon, I told you I was here to help. We’re getting out of here.”

Kensie couldn’t move from her spot, so you took her hands, despite the poor girl flinching, and helped her up. “I want you to stay behind me, okay? If I tell you to stop, you stop. And if I tell you to hide, please hide, okay?” You squeezed her hands reassuringly and then started to walk forward, the girl trails behind.

(Part Fourteen)

[paisholotus]

Zintandathu

Present Day-2018

 

Narrative 

 

"My Prince, coming up on them now." Okoye told T'challa, sitting in her lotus position.

 

T'Challa stands and moves to a sand model of the convoy down below. Okoye gets up out of her chair and grabs her spear off the wall. She moves towards the back of the craft towards T'challa. "No need, Okoye. I can handle this alone." He tells her.

 

Okoye pauses, then returns her spear to the wall. T'Challa closes the model and steps to a marked circle on the floor. "I will get the women out as quickly as possible." Okoye places six kimoyo beads into T'Challa's gloved hands. "Just don't freeze when you see her." She said, smirking at him. T'challa was confused as to who she was talking about; he rolled his eyes and picked up his helmet. "What are you talking about? I never freeze."

 

T'Challa slips on his helmet, revealing himself to be the Black Panther, and folds his arms over his chest. Okoye opens her closed fist, dropping the Panther out of the aircraft. The Panther hurdles through the clouds and throws the spheres toward the cars below. The spheres change shape into edged discs that follow through the air as they zip forward.

 

The discs mount themselves to the hoods of all the vehicles, sending a sonic ripple through them, stopping the convoy in its tracks. The militant leader riding in the front watches as the driver looks around, confused.

 

He tries turning the key to start the truck up again, and nothing happens. The militant leader grabs his AK-47 and climbs to the front of the truck. He spots the disk mounted to it and tries pulling it off to no avail. He raises his fist.

 

"Defense position!" The militant leader slips down a night vision monocular as the other militants echo the call and begin to fall in line.

 

Inside the truck are several Nigerian women. The young soldier exited the vehicle as the goddess watched closely.

 

The pickup's driver climbs out, cocking a submachine gun, and looks into the forest in the wrong direction. Slowly approaching, the militant leader points to shifting foliage in the direction of the Panther. The militants nod, and the militant leader covers them while they go off into the grass.

 

The militants move slowly, following every sound. They point their guns at the base of a tree, but it's just a stray dog. The gunmen approach the tree, eyeing around, then look up to find the Panther stalking them like his prey from the treetops. The goddess climbs out of the truck, carefully leading the other captive women out of the truck.

 

"Come in! Come in!" The leader yells into the radio. We hear a faint struggle, then a militant body is hurled into the side of the pickup truck as the other militants look on in horror. The gunners and all of the other men in the convoy blindly opened fire into the trees.

 

Then the Panther emerges from behind them, flipping into the truck bed and slashing clean through the base of it, then taking the gunner out with a single blow. Slipping behind a militant, the goddess pulls water from the trees and encircles the man, knocking him against the tree and knocking him out cold. She leaps onto a second militant, easily taking him down and striking him in the throat.

 

The four men don't see the Panther coming and executing a barrage of punches and kicks; the Panther viciously dispatches them. He spots the young militant firing at him, then slashes through a car door and throws the door at a militant behind him, taking him out.

 

In a moment of desperation, the young militant rushes out, firing at the Panther to no effect. Then, as the Panther walks towards him, the Goddess dives out, kicking the young militant's gun from his hand and grabbing him in a necklock. Swinging around, the Goddess pushes the Panther in the chest, stopping his momentum. Caught off guard, the Panther freezes.

 

"Stop! Him just a boy. He got kidnapped too." The goddess pulls the wrap from the young militant's face, exposing his pre-teen expression. She walked towards him, smirking and crossing her arms. The Panther stares at her for too long.

 

"Lua, I... I... I wanted to." T'challa stuttered but was cut off by Lua smacking his arm. "Yuh, mess up my mission! Wah yuh doing here?" She asked him, playfully glaring at him. "My father is dead, Lua." He sadly told her.

 

The news devastates her. Tears welled in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered how sorry she was. T'challa held her tightly, nuzzling into her neck. "I will be crowned King tomorrow, and I wish for my other family to be there." Lua looks at T'Challa deeply and nods, kissing his cheek. She then turns, catching eyes with one of the Nigerian captives as Okoye brings them from around the truck.

 

Lua walks towards the women and tells them that her guards will take them home. Okoye also made sure to let them know not to speak of what they saw tonight.

 

-Time Skip-

 

The Royal Talon Fighter heads for the Royal Palace, a magnificent building at the center of the city, and touches down on the landing pad. And right behind them, landing beside them, was the Royal SC Nightfall.

 

Walking down the strip, T'challa and Okoye waited for the Adamu family to exit the aircraft. When the doors let down, Lua, Yarri, Aja, and Erik's mom, Tasha, began walking towards them. Waiting up front were Ramonda, Shuri, and Erik. On each side were Ayo and Aneka.

 

Lua sped towards Ramonda, opening her arms to hug her. "Hey, mama." Ramonda wrapped her arms around Lua and kissed the side of her head. They pulled away, and Ramonda gave her a teary smile. "Lua, it's so good to see you, my child." Lua placed Queen Mother's hands against her lips and gave her hushed condolences.

 

Lua let go of her hands and went to hug Shuri and Erik, but he playfully shoved her off, saying she was being "too mushy."

 

Erik threw his arms around his mama, asking how she was and kissing the side of her face. She smiled big at him, giving him a kiss back.

 

It was Aja's and Yarri's turn to hug Queen Mother, then on to Erik to his dismay, causing Yarri to smack her teeth and smirk, saying, "Oh, you don't want to hug me?" Yarri, being the same height as Erik, smacked him upside the head and hugged him anyway, causing him to chuckle and hug her back.

 

Shuri looked at Okoye, then back at T'challa. "Did he freeze?" She asked Okoye, causing T'challa to look at her, offended. Erik snorted, crossing his arms and looking at his cousin. "Hell, yeah, he froze." Erik said, cackling. "Like an antelope in headlights." Okoye added, causing everyone to laugh, except for Lua, who had a small smile on her face.

 

She thought T'challa looked extra scrumptious in his suit. "Are you three finished?" T'challa playfully asked them.

 

Okoye slams her spear into the ground, signaling the rest of the Dora to follow her off, along with the Adamu family. T'challa watched Lua leave with a small smile on his face and turned to Shuri, who was watching Aja with a shy smile on her face. He smirks at her but doesn't tease her like she did.

 

"I was so surprised that my little sister came to see me and her cousin off before our big day." Erik rolled his eyes and went to stand next to his older cousin. "Nigga, ain't nobody want to come see you." T'challa glared at him and shoved him, causing Erik to buck at him. "Bantwana! Behave, nceda," Ramonda told them sternly.

 

"Don't y'all start! Today's a good day." Tasha said, pointing her finger at them. Romanda nodded in agreement, smiling at both boys.

 

They both pouted, and Ramonda shook her at her son and nephew. There's nothing that's going to change about them; they were still little boys at heart. "You wish I was here to see you. I'm here for the EMP beads; I need to update them." Shuri told T'challa.

 

"Update? No, it worked perfectly." He said, shaking his head. Shuri rolled her eyes and scoffed. "How many times do I have to teach you? Just because something works doesn't mean that it cannot be improved." She said, smartly.

 

"You are teaching me; what do you know?" He asked her. "More than your noodle head ass." Erik said, under his breath. Causing T'challa to glare at Erik again. "N'Jadaka!" Ramonda warned him. Erik mumbled a sorry, looking at Shuri, who was trying not to laugh. Shuri holds out her hand, and T'Challa drops the beads into her hand, and he watches her turn around to leave.

 

"How are you feeling today, mama?" T'challa asked his mother. Ramonda smiled sweetly at her son and cupped his cheeks. "Proud. Your father and I would talk about this day all the time. He is with us, and it is your time to be king!" She then looked over to her nephew and cupped his cheeks, causing him to give her a big smile. "I am most proud of you, Umlilo Wam." She said, giving him a teary smile. "Your father would be extremely proud of the man you've become, and now it is also your time to be the Jaguar!" She said, smiling brightly.

 

"Ouu! I'M SO PROUD OF MY BABY!" Tasha said, walking over, squeezing Erik's cheeks with happy tears in her eye's.

 

Erik looked down, feeling his own eyes well up. T'challa looked at his younger cousin with pride and patted his back. "Kulungile! Let's go. We have family waiting for us." Ramonda said, hurrying both young men back into the palace.

 

 

Taraji P Henson as Tasha Stevens

[ghostboneswrites2]

Doe Eyes - CH12 - Far Away

Chapter List

Warnings: Terminus things

All banners credited on the masterlist!

        Blood spilled out of the man to your left. You were next. You heard their steps as they walked behind you. Just as the man raised his bat, Gareth spoke up.

        "Hey! What's your shot count?" He asked. The man with the blade sighed. 

        "Shit, man. I'm sorry. It was my first roundup."

        "After you're done here, go back to your point, and count the shells. Kaylee won't be gathering them until tomorrow." Gareth said, writing something down. You were frozen stiff, still bracing for impact. 

        "Hey! Hey, let me talk to you!" Bob let out a muffled cry from his gag.

        "Four from A, four from D?" Gareth asked, counting each of you and writing more in his little book and ignoring Bob completely, who was still begging for his attention.

        "Yeah." One of them men behind you said. 

        "Hey, let me talk to you for a minute!" He continued. Gareth finally sighed and rolled his eyes, stepping over and lowering the cloth out of Bob's mouth.

        "What?" He asked.

        "Don't do this. We can fix this." Bob pleaded.

        "No. You can't." Gareth denied, pulling the cloth back up into Bob's mouth. He pulled it back down when Bob continued his persuasions.

        "You don't have to do this! We told you, there's a way out of all this." Bob begged. "You just have to take a chance. We have a man who knows how to stop it. There's a cure. We just have tog et him to Washington. You don't have to do this man. We can put the world back to how it was."

        "Can't go back, Bob." Gareth said, gagging him once more.

        Then, Garth knelt down opposite to Rick and pulled the cloth out of his mouth.

        "Saw you go into the woods with a bag," he said. "And, come out without it. Had to pull my spotters back before we could go look for it. What was in it? You hid it, right? In case things went bad? Smart. Still, we'll find it. But, it's too dangerous to go out there right now." He pulled out a large knife and grabbed bib by the back of the neck, pulling him closer, over the metal trough. "What was in it? I'm curious."

        So, what, was this some sort of intimidation tactic to get Rick to talk? Threatening Bob when they were just going to drain you all dry anyways?

        "And," he continued. "It was a big bag." When Rick didn't respond, he asked, "You really gonna let me do this?" As he nodded his head to Bob.

        "Well, let me take ya out there." Rick offered. "I'll show you."

        "Not gonna happen, but this might." Gareth shrugged, pulling Bob's face closer, holding the tip of the blade not even an inch away from Bob's eye.

        "There's guns in it." Rick admitted. "AK-47, .44 Magnum, Automatic weapons, night scope. There's a compound bow, and a machete with a red handle. That's what I'm gonna use to kill you." He said, with a smirk. You admired his bravery, because personally, had you eaten anything recently, you'd be shitting your pants. 

        Gareth chuckled and put his knife away before he pulled Rick's gag back in his mouth and patted his shoulders. "Thanks." He said as he stood up. "You have to hours to get them on the driers. I'm gonna go back to public face. Now's the time we can get messy, but we need to dial it all in by sundown." He told the two men that were slaughtering you all.

        "Got it."

        "Yes sir."

        Gunshots fired outside, further procrastinating your imminent demise. Gareth looked concerned for a moment as he pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Hey Chuck?" He asked. The man behind you raised his bat again and you winced, but he stopped when another gunshot went off along with a scream. Everyone looked around with confusion. 

        Then, the whole building shook, with crumbling debris falling down from the ceiling. 

        Gareth was gone, and the two men behind you began to panic and pace around. "You there, Gareth?" One of them asked through the walkie. 

        "He's busy." The other one droned. 

        "You smell the smoke?! You hear the shots? He could be dead!" The first one said. "The hell we doin' here? The whole place could be goin' up."

        "You went on one roundup and you blew protocol." The second one said. "We don't deal with security. That ain't our job. This is. Hey! Look at me!" He called after the other one who had waved him off and started walking away.

        "What?" He asked, turning to face the man. That's when Rick snuck up behind the second one and stabbed his makeshift wooden stake into his neck, blood spraying out. 

        "No no no no no!" The first one cried out as Rick approached him and did the same. Then, Rick rushed over and started undoing everyone's restraints, starting with you. You stood up immediately and took the cloth out of your mouth, sucking in deep breaths of relief and adrenaline. Next, Glenn, then Daryl, then Bob.

        The gunfire and screams were raging outside. Daryl grabbed your shoulders and looked you in the eyes, silently  asking if you would be okay. You gave him a quick nod, but you were still trembling.

        "If they got problems, we got a chance." Rick said.

        "Sounded like a bomb!" Glenn exclaimed. 

        "Sounded like a damn war." Daryl added, releasing his grip on your shoulders and walking over to a metal table with all kinds of sharp instruments on it. He grabbed a big blade, and everyone else found themselves a weapon from the same table, including you. You grabbed a small hatchet. 

        "What the hell are these people?" Bob asked.

        "They ain't people." Daryl replied. 

        "Glenn went to stab the dead body on the table in the head.

        "Don't!" Rick stopped him. "Let him turn."

        With that, you all went to escape. When you made it into another connected room, you all stopped in your tracks. Torsos, legs, all kinds of body parts hung from chains, stripped of their flesh, meat exposed. You gagged and covered your mouth.

        "Cross any of these people, you kill 'em." Rick ordered as he took in the scene. "Don't hesitate. They won't."

        You all crowded a window. Walkers were clawing at a train car, but not the one you came from.

        "If we run by, we can avoid 'em. They're distracted." Rick said.

        "We gotta let those people out." Glenn protested. "That's still who we are. It's gotta be."

        So, you did. You each ran out, strategically taking down the walkers one by one. Whoever was inside the train cars was shouting for help as Glenn ran up and unlocked the door, pulling it open.

        "We're the same! We're the same!" The man from inside yelled as he ran up and grabbed Glenn's collar.

        "Back off!" Rick shouted as he pulled the man off him. A walker tackled the man as he began to laugh. Daryl yanked you to the other side of the train car as a large group of walkers went by. Some Terminus people walked past, gunning down the walkers. Rick ambushed one of them and gunned down the rest with their gun.

        "We're gonna have to double back." He said. 

        When you made it to the train car they locked you in, after a hellish, chaotic battle with walkers and the living alike, Rick threw the door open to free your people. Abraham called out random ordered to protect Eugene as you all fought you way through the growing horde of the undead. Rick gunned them down, you smashed them with your hatchet, Maggie stabbed, Michonne slashed, Daryl beat and stabbed, and everyone worked as a team as you slaughtered your way to freedom.

        When you all made it to the fence, Rosita stabbed one that was on the other side before she ushered everyone over the fence. Rick stayed back and gunned down the walkers that were following behind. Gareth was on top of a train car but he ducked away when Rick shot at him. It wasn't worth his life, so Rick followed behind you all, over the fence and into the woods. Daryl led you all back to where the guns were hidden.

        "The hell we still around here for?" Abraham asked.

        "Guns. Some supplies. Go along the fences. Use the rifles. Take out the rest of 'em." Rick said.

        "What?" Glenn asked.

        "They don't get to live." Rick said.

        "Sounds good to me." You added. "Fuckers almost got me, man. I was next."

        Daryl looked over at you for a moment with an unreadable expression. You thought he was probably thinking about how you were all lined up to be slaughtered, not just you, so you weren't special. You didn't care, though. Revenge sounded like a nice way to calm your nerves.

        "Rick, we got out. It's over." Glenn protested.

        "It's not over 'til they're all dead." Rick argued.

        "Fuckin'--A right it's not." You agreed.

        "The hell it isn't. That place is on fire. Full of walkers." Rosita said.

        "We just made it out." Abraham added.

        "The fences are down. They'll run or die." Maggie insisted.

        Footsteps broke your attention away, and you all turned to see Carol approaching with a gun over her shoulder and a crossbow in her hand. Daryl rushed over and embraced her in a big, tight hug. She grinned into his shoulder, hugging him back as he lifted her off the ground. Everyone who knew her smiled and crowded around. Her eyes were wattery, and so were Daryl's. 

        "Did you do that?" Rick asked her.

        She just nodded and laughed as he hugged her too.

        "You have to come with me." She said, as she led you all away. You followed her to a road that led to a small cabin. Tyreese walked out of the door just as you all came in to view, holding bags and... a baby? You gasped as Rick threw his bag of guns down and dashed over to him, taking Judith and holding her close. You tears were happy this time, not sad like when Brandy died, or filled with horror like back at Terminus. You were witnessing something that was truly beautiful. Carl ran over to his baby sister, and Sasha ran over and jumped in her brother's arms. You almost wished someone was there for you to hug, to tell them you missed them and you were glad they were alive, but all you had were the people right there with you.

        You looked over to Daryl who was already looking at you. Impulsively, you ran over and hugged him tight. He didn't hesitate, he hugged you back, and you felt something warm and safe grow around you. It was like he created this warm, glowy aura that nothing dark or harmful could penetrate. 

        Rosita and Abraham stayed on the alert, still focused on their mission. But everyone else just watched in awe. You all took a moment to collect your thoughts and make a plan. 

        "I don't know if the fire's still burning." Rick said, looking off over the trees to the stack of black smoke rising in the distance.

        "It is." Carol said.

        "Yeah, we need to go." He announced.

        "Yeah, but where?" Daryl asked. Judith cried in the background.

        "Somewhere far away from there." Rick responded, pointing in the direction of Terminus.

        "Sign me the fuck up." You sighed.

[ducksandknights]

Eyeshield 21: Winter 2023 Gift Exchange

This is my piece for @eyeshields! I was working with the prompts winter vacation + getting cozy, and to me there’s nothing more warm and close during winter break than baking together.

I really hope that you like it! 🎄🏈

The door to the kitchen bursts open with a force that rattles the walls, and Kurita drops the scoop of flour he’s been measuring. A cloud of white rises into the air before settling on his face and shirt like a layer of dust.

“Hiruma!” Kurita swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, which only pushes the flour further into his eyelashes, eyebrows, and even his hairline. “Are you here to help with the cookies?”

Hiruma stares at him, then glances at the mass of dough on the countertop that’s nearly twice the size of Kurita’s head. With a snort, he jabs the barrel of his machine gun into it. “They not feeding you enough over vacation, fucking fatty?”

Actually, Kurita could go for a light snack about now. It had been almost two hours since breakfast.

He shrugs and begins counting on his fingers. “I just want to say thank you to Sena-kun, and Monta-kun, and Yukimitsu-kun, and Mamori-chan, and everyone who joined the Devil Bats.”

Kurita pauses, weighing everything he’s feeling and everything he wishes he could tell Hiruma. That he’s so grateful. That he’s so happy. That he wants to win, and more than anything, he wants to win with this team and these friends.

But Hiruma likely won’t put up with all that mushy feelings talk, and so finally Kurita just says, “I want to say thank you to them for making our dream… possible.”

Hiruma narrows his eyes and plants a strong, solidly aimed kick into Kurita’s backside. “We haven’t achieved anything yet, idiot. And you can say thank you by winning our next game.”

But unasked, he slings his machine gun off his shoulder and begins rolling up his sleeves.

Kurita’s smile is so wide his cheeks hurt. Turning to the recipe, he double-checks it to make sure the oven is preheating at the right temperature, and then pulls out a second cookie sheet for Hiruma to use.

“So what are we making?” Hiruma rips off a hunk of dough and starts to shape it between his long fingers. “Fat fucking beardies in suits? Little toy-making slaves? AK-47s that say ‘Win, Devil Bats!’ on them?”

Kurita is not about to give out cookies with icing threats as a way to say thank-you to his friends, but it is a very Hiruma-like idea.

“We have to roll the dough out first,” Kurita reads. “After that we can cut it into shapes. I thought we could make everyone’s faces as a way to cheer them on?”

As Kurita reaches for a rolling pin, Hiruma pulls out another gun—from where, Kurita can’t begin to imagine—and rests the cylindrical barrel on top of the dough. They both roll out their respective halves back and forth, back and forth until two thin and more or less even sheets of dough have taken up the entire counter.

Kurita begins humming a cheery and festive tune that he can’t quite remember the name of, and the two get to work cutting and lining up dozens of raw cookies onto the baking sheets. While Kurita finds it easier for his large hands to work with cookie cutters, Hiruma has enough skill and dexterity to carve shapes out of the dough with a knife. Every so often a nasty-sounding kekeke cuts through Kurita’s song, and he smiles thinking his very best friend is having just as much fun as he is.

Though his progress is slower than Hiruma’s—about one in four raw cookies end up in Kurita’s mouth before they can make it onto the tray—eventually everything is ready to bake.

Kurita sits on the floor in front of the oven, silently cheering the cookies on as they cook. Maybe it’s because they’re shaped like his friends, but in a silly way he feels like if they turn out well then so will the team. So as he waits, he wills them not to burn, and Hiruma comes over to rest his gun-slash-rolling-pin atop his friend’s head and begin cleaning it.

“There’s a tradition in some countries,” Hiruma begins casually, which is enough of a red flag for Kurita to know that what’s coming out of his mouth isn’t about to be casual at all. “It’s called a king cake. They hide a coin or a plastic baby inside for good luck.”

He cackles and leans against Kurita’s back, popping a stick of gum into his mouth. “Fucking stupid tradition, if you ask me. Devil Bats don’t rely on luck. So I put something else in a few of the cookies instead.”

Kurita glances at the butt of the gun jutting out beside his head, then looks up. “Hiruma!”

“It’s a reminder from their captain—they better be ready to work their asses off!”

The laugh from his body is raucous, and Kurita can feel the vibrations of it. It’s enough to end his protests before they really start.

A bullet isn’t enough to crack anyone’s teeth, is it? It will probably be fine—after all, Hiruma wouldn’t do anything to seriously get in the way of their teammates’ playing.

Kurita makes one more wish for his friends’ safety and good health.

Once the cookies have come out of the oven and cooled, the icing can begin. Kurita looks at their blank forms, trying to imagine iced hair and eyes, but something is missing.

“We should draw Santa hats on everyone, too!” he exclaims suddenly. Why didn’t it occur to him before? “I want everyone to think of the Christmas Bowl when they see their cookies.”

Hiruma snaps a piece off one and pops it into his mouth. “Tastes disgustingly sweet,” he says, wrinkling his nose up in distaste. “Last thing they need is extra icing.”

Hiruma watches over Kurita’s shoulder as the lineman clumsily begins outlining faces and hats. His hand isn’t steady, and the icing tube is hard to control—it comes out in a thin line at first, and then all at once, and Kurita has to scrape some of it off into the sink. By the time he’s done with Eyeshield’s mask, it’s nothing but a green smear with a few wobbly white lines running across the bottom.

Mamori’s turns out particularly rough, one eye practically off the cookie entirely and a crooked, toothy smile that could rival Hiruma’s. Her hat looks more like a horn has sprouted from her head rather than any sort of Christmas accessory.

Hiruma snatches the cookie off the counter and howls with laughter, twisting and turning it under the light.

“This,” he says between breaths, “this is some real blackmail material. She pulls that fucking ogre face exactly when someone steals the last cream puff!”

Kurita scrambles to take the cookie back, knowing Hiruma is near impossible to steal from both on the field and off it—and knowing that somehow, magically, it’s already been immortalized in Hiruma’s book.

“Please put Mamori-chan down,” Kurita begs, making a dive as Hiruma dances nimbly out of the way. He looks up from the floor. “She’s supposed to feel like giving her all when she receives it!”

Hiruma squats down in front of him and dangles the cookie over his head. “You offering a deal?”

Kurita nods so vigorously that his head brushes against the floor. “Anything!”

Dropping Mamori’s face into Kurita’s outstretched hands, Hiruma stands and brushes his hands off on his pants. “Then you’re icing my cookie next, and when I see it, it has better make me feel like we made it to the Christmas Bowl.”

Kurita blinks, caught off-guard. For as long as he can remember, Hiruma had set his jaw over winter vacation and simply run their practices harder and longer. It made Kurita sad to see his friend like that, determined but a little bit ragged, pushing himself harder and harder while watching his goal stay just out of reach.

But this year—this year was different. Wasn’t this the first time Hiruma had participated in something really feeling like winter spirit?

And Kurita has been waiting for this joy, this spark, for a long time.

Trying not to feel too embarrassed, he shuffles around to the other side of the counter. “Actually… I made yours already. Though I know you don’t like sweets.”

Now it’s Hiruma’s turn to be surprised. Kurita is pulling out a celophane gift bag with a snowflake ribbon tied around it, inside which is a stack of messy cookies that have something resembling his own face iced on.

They’re all smiling, eyes drawn arching upward as little crescent moons, and it’s quite possibly the least malicious Hiruma has ever looked in his life.

He laughs again, realizing how easy it’s been to do tonight, and takes the bag from Kurita’s hand.

“I’ll eat them,” Hiruma declares, stomach turning a little at the thought. “No matter how fucking disgusting they are, I’ll eat them all. No fucking cookie is going to get in the way of giving my all for the Christmas Bowl.”

Kurita beams at him. True, he’s not 100% sure what that means, but it’s definitely good.

It’s definitely how Hiruma should feel over winter vacation.

“Actually…” Kurita starts, and when Hiruma looks up the fucking fatty’s arms are full to the brim with bags and bags of holiday cookies. “I made a few test batches of you, too…?”

Hiruma reaches for his machine gun.

[shytastemakerthing]

HIIIIII could I request a platonic matchup for TWST please??

I go by she/her and in general like presenting feminine. I'm also very short and I look younger than I actually am, my eyes are this "dirty" green color that isn't exactly your typical green, but you can't really call it a brown. When it comes to interests and preferences I'm usually very indecisive, I can jump between fandoms every day or get stuck on one for several months, I listen to almost all kinds of music and I find whatever alternative movement I come across very cool. I guess it's because I get swept away by the vibe very easily and there are very few things I actually dislike and don't see the charm in. But if I had to choose then my go-to style and "persona" is "a cute little girl that likes pink and owns an AK-47 and watched all Saw movies" or something

Not to self diagnose but SOMETHING IS WRONG and it often shows. My mood can dampen or brighten in a flash and I can't really do anything about it, on most days I don't have the energy to do anything and I can cancel plans I made in advance just because I made them on a good day and didn't think I might not have the energy for them later. I'm working on it I swear,,,, my love languages are aggression, threats and violent grabbing. If I'm comfortable with you I can just come up to you, grab your neck and go "I'LL EAT YOU" and the people that I love know that it's a good thing.

Idk what else to say about myself that would be substantial to the request, my sense of humor is really weird. I may not always laugh at normal jokes, but I will absolutely lose my shit at a low quality picture of a bug that says "carlos". Thank you in advance, I hope this was enough!

Hello! Thank you so much for your request! I'm finally able to get these rolling, so I hope you enjoy!

CW: None

I match you with........

Epel Felmier

🍎 Okay, I saw your persona saying cute girl who likes pink but also owns an AK-47 and has seen all the SAW movies and he was the first person that came to my mind.

🍎 People misjudge this cute looking little guy as someone sweet and adorable when in reality it is a feral gremlin who will occasionally have crackhead energy and the vibe i see you two having brings me great joy.

🍎 Epel is glad that he has someone he can greatly relate too, as in looking just adorable and having people misjudge your character, when in reality, you're just feral gremlins trying to get through school.

🍎 Now, does he show his own aggressive affection? I can see it. He is a feral country boy and he also wants to prove that he can handle your own aggressive affection. Vil may not like this but what does he like? Epel could care less. He does him and Vil does Vil. People think you two are fighting, but this is just how you are with one another. Gremlin buddies all the way.

🍎 Speaking of Vil, Epel avoids him like the plague. You know this. Vil knows this. That's why he comes to you as soon as Epel has vanished for their manners session. Do you know where he is? 9/10, yes. But do you tell him? Nah. Epel loves you because of this.

🍎 Knowing how you would loose it over auch posts like a bug labeled 'Carlos', he will plague your phone with them all day long. He sees one, and knows he has to send it to you. Whether you're both in class, at lunch, in the middle of the night. If he finds a pic, he sends it to you right away. Both of you have laughed so hard that you've cried.

🍎 When your mood dampens, sometimes he can be at a loss as to what to do, but he picks up on how to help rather quickly depending on the situation. The last thing he wants is for you to be upset. You're his best friend and he will defend his best friend any way he can.

🍎 Touching back on random bug pics with funny names, because of his excellent skills in carving apples, for your birthday, you can be he carved you a freaking apple of the same fuzzy bug picture names 'Carlos'.......... it is now your favorite thing.

🍎 Epel just really wants to be a good friend. He already has to deal with Adeuce and their antics. Jack is pretty good. He's on the fence about Sebek. So the fact he is able to relate to you so well, it's no wonder you two became best friends rather fast! In the first year group chat, you are both known as 'Gremlin 1' and 'Gremlin 2', order is up to you. The rest of the group underestimated you at first...... never again🤣.

🍎 Overall, he very much likes that he can be himself around you. He loves that you're able to hide him from Vil. And he absolutely loves your aggressive way of showing affection. This man is your absolute ride or die, you can bet on that.

[swxxtsxcchxrine]

☆ ♡ Hands up! ♡ ☆

+parings; ☆ blackfem!bimbo x mean!stoner Gojo☆

+synopsis; Gojo has had enough of his classmates - especially you - so when the two of you are paired up he realises he can’t suppress his anger. will the party you’ll be attending later give him enough time to finally air out? ♡

+warnings; rough sex, crude language, squirting, hate sex?, oral - fem and masc receiving -, fingering, sub space, overstimulation, teasing, creampie, cervix fucking, black reader but no explicit description degrading, praising, man - handling, impact play, drug and alcohol mentioned, reader is called pretty girl, crybaby, baby, heavy dacryphillia♡

Your heels clattered loudly on the glossy floor, the empty auditorium reverberating to the sound as your short skirt rode up. The glossiest gloss you could find in your purse was used as normal to accentuate and gloss up your lips. The chain around your neck had a blinged-out ak-47 charm dangling above your boobs. You brushed your pink highlights in your blonde hair away from your face as the raspberry-flavoured gum burst.

As the jingling of your jewellery echoed across the room, you took a seat at the rear and took the time to put out your belongings. You waited for your instructor to start the class while you sat quietly. The door swung open, and much to your dismay, stood an all too familiar face.

Satoru Gojo. You could just sense his smug grin plastered on his face as yours dropped. His affliction shirt hung loose as his baggy black trousers scraped across the floor. His shirt had a skull with wings coming off the side and matching trousers too. His bb-belt reflected the light of the auditorium.

You've never been able to determine why Satoru had an implicit animosity for you. His negative attitude caused you to become negative in kind, and you inevitably started to dislike one another. He scowled every time the two of you met, never missing an opportunity to make petty comments whether it's in regards to your looks, outfit or personality.

Satoru's bright blue eyes rolled back as he diverted to you. As neither of you broke your eye contact, the tension grew immediately. He huffed, his backpack slumped haphazardly over his shoulder. His hair was, as per-usual, messily brushed up in a poor attempt to get it out of his face.

You got sick from Satoru. He enraged you. He was essentially dead to you, if anything. Satoru didn't say anything as he approached you before turning right and heading away. You suddenly released a breath that you hadn't even realised you had been holding before turning to face your lecturer. You don't know what time he entered. But you already knew that Satoru's presence had wrecked your day. Students began typing as soon as the lesson started, with you among them, taking a moment now and then to check yourself in the mirror and touch up your lip gloss.

Your professor briefly mentioned the fact that you have a month to complete your course work plus an essay with feedback he'd give you throughout this month, and that he would expect you to work in pairs. While the others sat in eager expectation of hearing whose name would be called after theirs, some sighed in distress. And you weren't an exception.

As the name of the person whose name was called after yours was spoken, officially referring to you two as a pair, your heart began to rush. There was no way this could happen. Everything was going smoothly. This is just not possible.

Students dispersed and gathered when the bell that marked the end of the period, rang. You went down the stairs to the professor. "Sir, I don't think-" Your teacher cut you off mid-sentence and said, "If it's about the pairing, I don't want to hear it. Working with a co-worker you don't get along with won't be the worst of your troubles in the actual world of work.” You took a breath and were instantly silenced by his sharp tone.

To avoid making any more sly remarks, you bit your lip. You were aware that you should not fight with your teacher. Turning around on your heels, you walked toward your dorm room. Being partnered with someone you hated was less of a concern for you than other things.

Your room was painted a bright pink colour, giving it the appearance of a fever dream. You felt like a Barbie as every corner was hot pink. As your cushions were fluffed to perfection, your king-sized bed stood tall and proud. The velvety comforter had "doll face" sewn on it was covered in pink and black zebra design. Your bathroom was decorated similarly, with hot pink bath towels drying on the rack. Soon after, you started your self-care regimen, heating your bath to the perfect temperature to give you the deepest sense of fulfilment. You were dressed entirely in lacy pink undies and purple silk bratz robe, with pin up rollers in your hair and a purple bonnet covering it.

At 11 o'clock this evening, Suguru Getou hosted a party, so you had to turn heads as you entered. Your thoughts wandered to the idea of people swarming you and complimenting your clothes as usual. You sat on the sofa watching Incantation. You huffed, waiting for the time to go by and debated on whether you should spend this time starting on your course work.

Your daydream was broken by an abrupt knock at the door. You jerked and lowered your eyes to your phone. Only 4:34 had passed. You weren't planning on meeting anyone soon. Another round of impatient knocks rang out around your room before you could gather your thoughts. You stood to open the door; pissed. Your sour expression was replaced with a look of confusion.

Satoru Gojo was once again standing before you. His low eyes glared at you while a smug smirk spread across his face. The stench of marijuana crept into your nostrils and soon filled the entire room as you clenched your face in a grimace. "You ready to start the coursework, babe?" Your expression changed. Satoru could not possibly be here start the coursework while so inebriated. “What the fuck you doing here? Talking ‘bout coursework,” You reprimanded him for being here in the state he’s in: "Look at you, you can't even see straight, bitch,” He groaned as he kissed his teeth. Obviously, he didn't register a thing you said.

You sigh and clicked your teeth. There would be no dream work with this "team work." You huffed, ultimately deciding to kick him out of your dorm. Attempting to shut the door did nothing but make the boy whine and complain. "Come on man, I gotta get full marks on this course work or my dads gonna, like, kill me," he raised his hands. You tutted, thinking what to do.

Satoru gave a loud grunt as you ushered him inside and shoved him into the room. You slammed the door behind you before turning around and leaning against the door. You looked at the mess in front of you. Babysitting was not your idea of fun. The sneer on Satoru's face didn't waver while he stood there waiting to be told what to do. You crossed your arms and wondered what to do with the lost cause. He was waiting there patiently for you to say anything or perhaps even instruct him.

It was clear what Satoru felt about you. You didn't appeal to him. He hated you. He hated both your ditzy attitude and the sickening sweetness of your voice. How your doe eyes blinked at each word he uttered, which he found repulsive. And most of all, he hated how he couldn’t have you.

Before speaking, Gojo gave you a quick glance. “You gotta unwind, baby. Here…” He chuckled light-heartedly. As unusual as it was, your shoulders relaxed at his voice. His voice seemed soft? He wasn’t as harsh with his tone like he usually is. He gave you a direct glance before digging into his pocket for the weed and a lighter. "Ya' know how to roll? Or do you need me to teach you, pretty?” Your brows wrinkled in perplexity. There is no way he was trying to get you high when you had coursework to complete. You sat down next to him on the ground, crossing your legs.

Although a part of you wanted to object, the other part told you to just fuck it all. You removed the half-rolled blunt from his fingertips, added more cannabis to the tip, and then tightly wound it up. Your gaze stayed fixed on his as you took the lighter and brought it between your lips and lit the tip up. His eyes widened in sudden infatuation. You took one deep puff before bringing the spliff to his lips. He opened his mouth, just enough for the tip to go in, without objection.

You giggled and clasped your hands together. “Dumb bitch, what you giggling for now?” he mocked you while laughing. By now, the two of you were lying on the sofa whilst watching Scary Movie 2. Your legs were sprawled all across the surface of the sofa. Gojo had a pillow laid across his lap. That he squeezed every time a jumpscare came on the screen.

You had ought to smack him but self control was holding you back. Time was passing quick and the party wouldn’t wait for you. Fuck the course work. You’d come back to it tomorrow (if you weren’t hung over).

After the two of you nearly finished the blunt you’d been sharing, looked at the time. It had only been about 30 minutes. There was no way. It had felt as if 3 hours had passed and you could tell Gojo was starting to feel the same way.

You turned to Satoru to tell him to leave, but he must have already got the hint and walked towards the door without a word.

And then you were alone. Again.

★

Your dress hiked up, and the dazzling lights flashed in your eyes. Although the skin-tight outfit was unpleasant, it hugged your curves the finest and undoubtedly attracted attention. Your pretty head's lovely curls were moving up and down to the same beat as your boobs. The drug from earlier still had trace amounts in your system, however you still managed to function somewhat normally, despite being really buzzy.

By shoving your way past other partygoers and moving swiftly in his direction, you approached Getou. In addition to having girls swarming about him and squealing with excitement whenever he talked, his brilliant smile could be seen for miles. You embraced him with wide arms. Now that your childhood best friend was an adult, you felt like a proud mother. You told Getou it was his special day and gave him a playful peck on the cheek.

Meanwhile, Satoru was watching you embrace Suguru while he sipped on what appeared to be the last of the cheap booze he had in his cup. The sound of Coming Down by The Weeknd resounded in your ears as you went to get a drink. You still felt a bit buzzed from early however you couldn’t care less.

A few kids - including Suguru - were on the sofa doing balloons and smart whip. A familiar white haired boy caught your attention. His eyes hung low and were now a deep blue and had a glossy sheen over them. He seemed to be in some trance, his eyes fixated on one spot.

Satoru slouched down on the sofa, his lap practically inviting you to sit on it. Your pussy throbbed at the idea. All the hatred you felt for the man was slowly simmering down and simply dissipating into nothing. You set down your drink, before making your way. You stood in front of his hard gaze before his eyes trailed your body and made its way up to your face. “What is it, babe?” he asked. Whatever drugs he took before the party seemed to have a similar effect on you that it had on him. The two of you seemed somewhat civil.

“Nothing. Just wanted to see how you were doing,” you bent over with your hand on his cheek caressing it softly as you whispered into his ear while you wore a cheeky grin. You giggled as he became visibly flustered. You adjusted yourself so you were basically straddling him, his hand finding comfort on your waist.

The tension building between the two of you was high and increasing with every passing second. His hot breath made your ears burn as slick pooled in between your legs. His dick got harder with every motion as you gently rocked back and forth on it. His hands moved up and down your waist. Not a single word was exchanged between the two of you; there wasn’t any need, you could read each other's thoughts through your eyes. You placed a gentle kiss on his neck before getting up to leave. His hand tightened its grip on your wrist just as your hand was ready to elude his grasp. “Where d’you think you’re going, pretty? You’re gonna do all that, then leave me here begging?” he feigned his hurt. But you knew. You were aware of his intense desire for you. Despite the fact that he would call you all kinds of foul names.

He dragged you to the master bedroom as you squealed in protest. His grip only tightened even more. His impatience was increasing. It didn’t take an idiot to see. The door swung open and before you could blink he’d shove you onto the bed. You folded your arms and scoffed at the tall man, watching as his face turn into one if anger, “What the fuck is your problem?”

“You really need to know when to shut the fuck up,” he snorted before unbuckling his belt. He let his jeans fall before springing his hard cock free. Your pussy throbbed and clenched at the thought of being stuffed full by him.

His pretty pink tip leaked pre-cum. His cock was bent at a particular angle and two veins lay in tandem. He was well trimmed, little hairs on his pelvis. He smirked at your sudden change in facial expression before grabbing the back of your head and pushing you closer to his crotch. Your mouth watered, ready to take all of him - or most of him. He easily slid down your mouth, a deep groan rumbling from his throat. The grip on your hair tightened with every bob of your head. You gagged and gurgled on the tip, releasing it with a pop. Your mascara and eyeliner was pouring down your face as you cried from his tip constantly hitting the back of your throat. Your lip gloss and liner was now smudged all over your face as well as your spit

“Did that shut you up yet?” he chuckled as he slapped your face with the tip. “Dumb girl. You’re not deserving of my dick,” your big eyes batted at his cruel words as more tears threatened to fall. “You’re so fucking annoying. I hate you Satoru,” you spat, turning your head away from his cold and unwavering gaze.

“Don’t be like that pretty. Come here, I’ll make you love me beyond belief,” he whispered.

He caressed your face softly before leaning down to kiss you, swallowing your cries. His fingers tangled themselves in your hair as he pushed your head further into your mouth. Drool escaped from the side of your mouth as his other hand wandered down your waist, past your hips and stopping at your clothed pussy. He pulled his lips from yours before hiking your dress up.

He pushed your legs up and out of the way. He fingered your clit through the skimpy piece of panties you wore. “S’wet for me, baby,” he whispered into your core. You mewled as he continued to tease you. When he realised it was enough, he removed your underwear and discarded it across the room. Slick spilled from your clenching hole. “S’all for me, pretty?” he cooed. You hummed a brief response, urging him to go further. However he continued his teasing ministrations. You squirmed trying to get more stimulation towards your aching cunt.

“Oh my Gosh, this must be why you-,” before you could finish, he blew cold air onto your clit, the new sensation making you clench even tighter. He gripped your thighs and held them in place before going down to suck your throbbing bud. Your back arched and a moan was ripped from your throat as he sucked harder. You immediately covered your mouth in any attempt to suppress your moan further. He licked up and down, starting at your oozing hole and finishing at your clit. Your spare hand found itself buried deep in his hair, subconsciously pushing him further. You sobbed loud as he pushed his tongue into your hole. “Filthy bitch,” he whispered to himself.

Clenching on his tongue, you could feel yourself slowly falling off the edge. Your toes curled and fat tears rolled down your cheeks. You clenched and unclenched tightly, your hips buckling towards his mouth eagerly.

He could feel that you were close. Your squeals were getting more high pitched, your legs getting shakier and your arch becoming steeper. His tongue flicked and curled itself up inside of you while his thumb toyed with your puffy clit. “Satoru-…m’close!” you gasped and squirmed away from his overwhelming touch.

Juices flowed out and into his mouth as he tongue fucked you out of your high. “Such a pretty pussy hmm..” he groaned smacking your clit. You jolted at the sensitivity, instinctively closing your legs only for him to pry them open again.

Satoru held down your hips to keep them still. He had only just started and was no where near finished. He easily slid two fingers through your slick slit eliciting a sharp hiss from you. His precise and long fingers prodded experimentally at your gummy walls in an attempt to find your spongy spot. Your hips bucked up as you made an effort to run from his chasing fingers. “Keep still for me crybaby,” he groaned.

“It’s too much! Too much!” you begged.

“But your squeezing me so tight, slut,”

You found yourself crying as he thrusted in and out with his slender fingers, reaching places you couldn’t before. You creamed and gushes around his paced fingers as you spasmed against him. You tried pushing his hand away, begging and babbling about whatever came to your empty head, however he swat your weak one elsewhere. The pressure on your bladder was becoming too intense for you. You let out a sharp hiss before splashes of clear liquid splashed Satoru’s face, breaking his trance.

You laid on the bed sprawled out. Not a single thought through your pretty little head. Satoru hadn’t even given you his cock yet and you were already fucked out. If he knew you were this sensitive, he wouldn’t have waited this long.

Satoru lined himself up with your swollen cunt. You trembled under his touch, his cock touching all the right places inside of you. “m’too sensitive! please,” you pleaded however it all fell or deaf ears for Satoru didn’t halt his movements. “S’ok crybaby,” he cooed in your ear. He fully bottomed out and waited until your cries had simmered down before moving back slowly then slamming in. His length hit your cervix. He pushed down on the print of his dick inside of you on your stomach. “That’s me right there. All of me. Your so good takin’ all of me…” he whispered reassuringly.

The pleasure became unbearable as he continued his assault on your sore cunny. Your toes uncurled and curled over in bliss. Fat tears rolled down your hot cheeks as he bent further over you into a mating press. The familiar feeling of the same pressure that was on your bladder came back and he could feel it too. He rubbed and flicked at your clit until you rolled your hips away in an attempt to run. He chuckled at your dim light as he slowly fucked all the wit out of you.

Satoru was close. Very close. His balls twitched at the idea of filling you up as you creamed and slicked up the base of his cock. It wasn’t long before he emptied his cum in your sore cunt. You wailed at the warm slowly filling you up to the brim.

“You learn to shut up yet?” he remarked at your fucked out state. He watched as your eyes darted across the room, trying to make sense of what actually happened. Satoru had half the mind to leave you here for Getou to find but decided to stay with you.

You stared blankly as Satoru didn’t say a word before dressing back up and stuffing your panties into his pocket. His hoodie for your undies.

Seemed fair.

+a/n; the end is a bit rushed but i hope u enjoyed 😉🤞🏾

2022 © swxxtsxcchxrine— do not repost or translate my work. likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome <3

[cynicalone94]

"Help Them"

Read on AO3 here.

They’ve been chasing the same robbery crew for three weeks.

Five banks have been robbed in that time which was enough to track a pattern and they’d split to canvas possible next options for signs that the crew had already cased their next job.

But no sooner had Jay introduced himself to the bank manager the doors flew open and a man in a black mask carrying an AK-47 has walked into the bank, shooting into the ceiling.

Jay and Hailey had both drawn their weapons but the man had gotten hold of a woman walking through the door at the wrong moment and used her to force them to put their weapons down.

All of the doors to the bank had been locked and the hostages had been sat on the floor.

The robber had released his grip on the woman, shoving her over to sit with the others.

Hailey had tried to move to a young woman who’d been struck by a ricocheting bullet from the original shots fired at the ceiling but the man had waved her away, threatening to shoot the woman’s daughter if anyone moved from their spots.

And with that things had settled into a tense wait.

The negotiators had made contact, demands had been made but something is off.

Everything they know about this crew says that there’s two of them and Hailey really wishes that she could discuss with her partner what it might mean that only one of them is here.

Jay is watching the robber pace back and forth with a laser focus and she decides she’d better follow his lead.

But their guy is smart enough to stay out of range of an attack and they can’t risk giving him a chance to shoot another one of the hostages.

So they keep waiting while negotiations progress steadily.

It’s fortunate that the only demands seem to be money and a getaway vehicle because it makes it easy for the negotiators to be accommodating.

Hailey almost misses the quiet, calm words from her partner.

“Help them.”

And then he’s lunging at the robber who has drifted just close enough to them to be within range on his inhumanly long arms.

Everything inside of her screams for her to help her partner but Hailey scrambles over to the bleeding woman, pulling the tourniquet from the holder in her boot.

She’s just fastening it into place, reassuring the woman that she’s going to be just fine when she hears the shot ring out.

Hears an all too familiar grunt.

She turns to see her partner slumped over the robber, the gun a few feet away on the ground.

The woman the robber had grabbed coming in the door has a gun in hand, pointed at her partner.

Hailey tackles her, grabbing the gun and twisting it out of her hand. She hears shattering glass as the SWAT team makes their entry but just focuses on getting the job done.

She cuffs the woman and drags the woman to her feet, passing her off to a SWAT member before rushing over to her partner.

“Jay?”

She rolls her parter off the robber, not paying much attention as SWAT pulls the man away from them.

Blood is soaking into Jay’s shirt over his abdomen and she pushes up his shirt, searching out the source of the bleeding and pressing her hands into it.

His eyes flicker open, locking on hers.

“Hails?” he questions.

“I’m here.” she tells him. “And we’re getting you help so don’t you go blacking out on me again, huh?”

“H’rts.” he grunts.

“Yeah.” she says. “Had that one for a second, didn’t we?”

“Should have realized she was the partner, huh?” he asks.

“Not sure why you would have.” she says. “And that woman was in trouble. You did what you had to do.”

“Not… reckless?” he asks with a small grin.

“You’re always reckless.” she tells him. “It’s just occasionally justified.”

He huffs a laugh and groans.

“Jay?” she questions.

“Laughing… bad.” he wheezes.

“Noted.” she says, reaching up with one hand to rub his shoulder. “Just try to breathe easy partner.”

A paramedic slides in next to her and Hailey slides her hands aside to let the paramedic put a pressure bandage over the injury, cinching it down tight.

Jay groans, squirming under her hands.

Hailey rubs his shoulder with her thumb.

“Easy partner.”

Voight shows up as they’re loading him into the ambulance.

“I send you to talk to a bank manager and you manage to get yourself shot.” he says, shaking his head.

“We also managed to bag your bank robbers.” Jay retorts. “Besides, it’s been like a year. Aren’t you more surprised it took this long?”

Voight just claps his hand on Jay’s leg and then steps back.

“Get to the hospital and get patched up.” he tells him, looking over at Hailey. “Take care of your partner. We’ll get your statements later.”

She nods and sits next to her partner, reaching out to take his hand.

“Copy you, Sarge.”

Jay is dozing when they pull up at Med and Hailey gently nudges him awake just before the doors open and a worried older brother shows up in between them.

“I’m okay, Will.” Jay says tiredly as the paramedics start to move the stretcher out.

Will takes hold of the end, helping lower him down.

“The bloody bandages say otherwise.” he cautions, easily sliding aside as Ethan walks up.

“Hey Jay.” he greets. “What are we looking at?”

“Shot in the stomach.” Jay tells him.

“Nothing else I need to look at?” he asks, nodding when Jay just shakes his head.

“The placement is pretty centered.” Ethan says. “Could have hit your liver or your stomach. Maybe both. We need to get some scans.”

“Do we have time for scans?” Will asks.

“He’s stable.” Ethan says with only a glance at the monitors. “But we’re going to have to go in either way.”

“Following the bullet should give you a pretty direct path to the location of the damage.” Will says.

“What do you think, Jay?” Ethan asks. “I can grab a quick ultrasound down here, get a general idea and then take you up to the OR.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jay agrees.

Hailey leans down to kiss his forehead.

“I’ll see you when you get out.” she tells him.

She’s feeling pretty good about the situation until she’s shown into recovery and sees him still on the ventilator.

“What’s wrong?”

“He didn’t handle the attempted extubation very well.” Will says quietly. “It looks like the expanding pressure as the bullet ripped through him might have bruised his diaphragm.”

“So what’s the plan then?” she asks.

“Give him a little more time.” he says, shrugging. “We’ll try again in twelve hours.”

She nods, taking her husband’s hand.

“Always gotta do things the hard way.”

Will just laughs.

“That’s my brother.” he agrees.

They follow along with the bed when he’s moved upstairs to the ICU, settling in at his bedside.

It turns out Jay doesn’t like the twelve hour idea much either because at four hours he’s breathing over the vent.

Within thirty minutes he’s off the vent and half sitting up, looking between the two of them.

“Bruised diaphragm?” he asks. “Great.”

“It’s going to be miserable for a couple days at least.” Will says. “And you’ve got to let us help you out with pain meds. This is just as bad as broken ribs for pneumonia risk because of you not breathing deeply enough. If not worse.”

Jay nods.

“Okay. When do I get out of here?”

Will chuckles.

“You’ve been off the vent five minutes.” he says, shaking his head. “They’re going to want to get the pain managed and make sure we can keep it that way. Two days, maybe three.”

Jay sighs but relaxes back against the pillows.

“Get some rest.” Hailey says, stroking her fingers through his hair. “I’ll be here.”

[maryellencarter]

Welp, that does it. Now it actually doesn't matter if you vote. Biden was the last US president, under any recognizable definition of the term, and may I say I genuinely don't think anyone else under the same constraints could have done better.

Here's what to expect going forward.

* Election Day: A few scattered shootings of poll observers. Not a lot, not organized, maybe half a dozen nationwide. The Republican Party decries this interference to the democratic process. Many widely publicized instances where Democrats at the polls were harassed or physically attacked until they responded with something that can be framed as violence, presented as demonstrating that the Democrats are out of control, the real danger, etc.

* If the vote goes Trump's way, which I expect, peace until Inauguration Day. People with the resources to do so should flee the country at this point.

* If the vote starts going Biden's way, many shootings at vote-counting locations in purple and blue areas, destruction of many "fake/duplicate" votes.

- If Biden is elected (which I very much don't expect as the propaganda buy-in against him is so high), on vote count ratification day, Capitol Riots 2.0: No Democrat Left Standing.

* On Inauguration Day, if Biden is elected and refuses to vacate the White House, televised raid on the White House and publicly televised summary execution of President Biden. (Since, under the Supreme Court ruling, he *also* has infinite power above the law, he cannot be allowed to survive. Barack Obama, if he has not fled the country by them, will also be either executed or assassinated at some point in any timeline. Bill Clinton may be safe unless he makes trouble, but I wouldn't test it.)

* On Inauguration Day, if Trump is elected and Biden leaves the White House peacefully (my own expectation), Trump swearing-in followed immediately by the signing of approximately five million executive orders. My best guesses:

- Full legal immunity for any "citizen patriot" who shoots non-Republicans or POC

- dismissal and execution of the three liberal Supreme Court justices

- all reproductive rights gone

- all queer protections gone

- all social services such as food stamps and Medicaid gone

- all digital privacy rights gone

- the National Guard rolling out to truck everyone of Hispanic or Latino extraction to the Mexican border (without food or water) and dump their dehydrated corpses there, with the widely publicized "wall of bodies" touted as the final solution to those damn illegals (they will also continue building the actual wall)

- massive expansions of the prison industrial complex, newly built prisons and labor camps will eventually house all Black people who can be funnelled there

- erasing all women's rights is probably not day one but it'll happen

"oh but this is perfect! nobody will stand for this! the revolution will finally happen!" our military spending outstrips the rest of the world combined. and none of you know how to operate a resistance with disconnected cells for shit. someone so much as whispers about revolution and a MAGA with an AK-47 pops up and takes out the entire group that heard them. you think i'm exaggerating. the only exaggeration is that it might be at the second meeting.

will it matter to me personally? no. i have an X for nonbinary on my driver's license. i'll be shot on sight or in a conversion therapy concentration camp. leia will be dead because they'll jack the price of insulin back up.

do i still plan to vote for biden? sure. it'll be my last chance to assert my independence.