#peyton rack
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Peyton Rack, Burden, 2024
#surrealist collage#collage art#collage#artists on tumblr#contemporary#artistsontumblr#saic#digital#peyton rack#darksurrealism#dark aesthetic
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Gorgeous Peyton List, from Mad Men and Legends of Tomorrow
#peyton list#rocking body#great legs#great thighs#great rack#legs for days#legendary legs#great body#great hips#dancer body#power thighs#bikini#mad men#legends of tomorrow
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What's the occasion?
Masterlist
A/N: What this was supposed to be: A fluffy comfort fic about reader's husband taking care of her after a rough day/week/month. What this isn't: A fluffy comfort fic about read.... you get me.
What this somehow ended up being: A not-so-fluffy not-so-comfort (?) fic about reader's husband taking real good care of her after a rough day/week/month.
You're welcome, I think? (I honestly don't have a clue how this ended up being some of the smuttiest smut I've written to date... But it happened... I'm not even going to question it.)
Pairing: Syverson x reader (you)
Summary: You come home from a terrible day at work, thinking you have about a thousand things still on your to do list, only to find your husband has taken care of all of that, and has also made you the first thing on his to do list.
Word count: 3.8k
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, SMUT, MINORS DNI. oral (m and f receiving), p-in-v sex, Sy being all dominant and massive, some light (yes, really) throatfucking, hair pulling, manhandling. Some of this can probably be considered blasphemy.
Also, fair warning: this story contains a man doing household chores without having been (explicitly) asked to do so. Just... Bear with me. I know it's not realistic, but we're here to have fun, right?
@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss
Parking your husband’s truck in your driveway is an absolute nightmare. It takes you twenty minutes and a breakdown – during which you fight yourself over whether or not to just go inside and ask him to park his stupid car for you – but you eventually manage. Now, it’s time to go inside, after the longest day at the office in the history of long ass days at the office, and do the six million other things that come for free with having a house, husband, and kids. Dishes. Laundry. Dinner. That stuff.
You toss your bag down on the bench next to the front door and put your coat on the overflowing coat rack six times – it keeps coming down because for some reason, your teen daughter owns 12 jackets, yet she still always asks to borrow yours seconds before telling you that all of your clothes suck – before you finally give up and leave it where it falls.
It takes you a minute to realize that you smell food. With three kids and your mountain of a husband, that can only really mean one thing: someone got hungry, your plans for dinner are now in ruins and your kitchen looks like an episode of Hoarders. And even though those are your expectations, your family still manage to exceed them every time, so God knows what you’re going to find when you round that corner and step into your kitchen...
It’s Sy. And it’s not just Sy, but it’s just Sy. Come to think of it... The whole house is suspiciously void of music, screaming or shoes scattered around for you to break your neck over.
“Where are the kids?” you ask as you walk towards Sy.
“With my mother,” he replies without turning around, “to be returned to us on Sunday night at eight, and not a second before then. Are ya goin' to make a habit of not sayin’ hello to me when you get home? ‘Cause I don’t care for it.”
“Well, excuse me for not taking the time out of my busy schedule for pleasantries, but I have a week’s worth of laundry to get to,” you snap. He doesn’t deserve it, you know that, but it’s the kind of day you’ve had, and... And it’s all on you again.
“Laundry’s done,” Sy says calmly, still not looking up from the lasagna he’s putting together.
“Oh,” you stammer. “Well, then I’ll just grab the vacuum and...”
“I did that, too.”
“Alright, I’ll give the garage a quick call to see if they can...”
“I changed the oil in your car this morning.”
“Groceries?”
“Done.”
“The bathroom?”
“Yep.”
“And you’ve obviously got a handle on dinner...” You have to admit it: you’re a little stumped. “What about...”
“Woman, if you’re lookin’ for somethin’ I didn’t do so you can blow up at me for it, I’ll just hand it to ya: I didn’t get to cleanin’ out the gutters today, so I’ll have to do that tomorrow.”
But you’re not planning on blowing up at him over anything...
“Well, hello Mr. Syverson,” you say, still completely in awe that your entire schedule for the night – and probably the whole weekend – just opened up. “Remind me... We got married in October, right?”
“Yes, Mrs. Syverson, we did.” He’s even less subtle than usual, skipping your hips and putting his hands on our ass right off the bat.
“So, what’s the occasion?” you chuckle. Sy pulls you in for a kiss, just passionate enough to leave you wanting more, but not so bad you beg him to take you right here on the kitchen counter. It’s a fine line, really. A tightrope you’ve tried to walk before, only to fall off on the wrong side and be late for yet another dinner with someone who was never going to be more important than having sex with your husband, anyway.
“The occasion is... You’re beautiful. You deserve it. You do so much for our family and somewhere along the lines I seem to have started takin’ that for granted. Take your pick, I’m sure there’s plenty more reasons to come up with.” He squeezes your ass. Hard. “This sensational ass could be the occasion?”
“You’re saying you got rid of the kids for the weekend and checked off my whole to do list to celebrate the existence of my ass?”
“Sugar, I celebrate the existence of that fine ass every damn day. Now, I’ve fallen a little behind on celebrating the existence of the woman attached to it... I’d like to make up for that.” There is absolutely no way you aren’t blushing right now. Sy doesn’t let go of you, but his hands move to your waist. You’re trying your best to not drown in his eyes, but you’ve been hopelessly lost in there for nearly twenty years. For a brief – but lovely – moment, you stand there, just holding each other and making eyes like you used to when you were young and in love. And young...
“This needs about half an hour in the oven, still, so how about I give you forty-five and you can take a nice, long shower?” Sy winks at you – or rather: tries to. “There’s something on the bed I’d love to take off of you later tonight, but I also understand if you just want to wear something comfortable.”
“Did you pick it?” you tease him.
“You’ll be more than happy to know that I did, but under the very strict supervision of Dana.” It seems like your dear husband has finally learned how to use the fact his best friend’s wife works in a lingerie store to his advantage… Took him long enough.
“Right on time,” Sy says as you step into the kitchen. You take the glass of wine he’s holding out to you and take a sip.
“Mmm...” The sound you make is almost a moan. One look at the bottle on the table tells you this is a really nice wine – one from a price range you can’t afford to shop at...
“Gift from a client. Walker said I could take it. I guess his wine cellar doesn’t fit any more.” Sy pulls you in for a hug. It doesn’t last long, but it’s nice, very nice.
Dinner is amazing. Sy is a great cook – when given means, motive, and opportunity – and he has prepared three courses of absolute heaven. He only has to assure you twice that the price of the ingredients won’t put your family in financial ruin.
You’re halfway through dessert – a deliciously indulgent, rich chocolate mousse you’re fairly sure he made from scratch – when you realize something.
“You can’t have done all the laundry. We don’t have the space to hang all of that...”
“I fixed the dryer,” Sy interrupts, “I’m sorry I only did that after it became a problem to me, personally.”
“That’s alright...”
“No, it ain’t,” Sy grins. He knows you.
“Very well, then. I accept your apology. You’re forgiven.” You remember the moment you knew you were going to marry this man: right after your first fight – he had been wrong, although you can’t remember what he’d been wrong about. It had had something to do with your mother. Either way, right after that fight, he’d apologized, and for some reason the lack of excuses had made you want to jump him right where you were standing. You’d almost broken up with him when you realized you weren’t half as good at apologizing as he was.
“Alright, well,” Sy smirked, still. It was incredibly attractive, and at least as annoying. “I was planning on makin’ up for that, but now that I don’t have to…” His voice trailed off for a moment before you gently nudged his leg with your foot.
“How about we finish this bottle upstairs?” You don’t need to tell him twice: he’s on his feet before you even finish the sentence.
“You go ahead, Sugar,” he says before kissing you as gently as a giant like him can muster, “I’ll make sure this kitchen is spotless before I come up.”
“Oh, Mr. Syverson, you are killing me.”
“Oh,” Sy adds with a grin on his face, “and you were right. The vacuum cleaner sucks, we need a new one.”
“Say that again…”
“The vacuum cleaner sucks?” He knows damn well which part you’re referring to. That wasn’t it.
“Before that.”
“Ah. You were right.”
“You have ten minutes to get to bed, or I’m starting without you,” you tease, knowing very well he wouldn’t mind one bit if you did start before he got there.
Sy is impatient as ever when he finally steps into your bedroom, pulling his shirt over his head before the door even shuts behind… Alright, maybe the door doesn’t close because he just leaves it wide open.
“Sy! Close the door!” you shriek, but he just takes a few more steps until he’s right next to the bed.
“Why? Kids ain’t home. We’re alone, we don’t need to close the door,” he says as he pushes you back onto the mattress. “We don’t gotta be quiet, either.” With a devilish grin on his face, he kisses you. First your lips, then your neck. His beard doesn’t tickle – not after all these years. He shaved it off once, only to immediately get on growing it back, because you wouldn’t give him any. You move your hands through the hair on his chest while Sy roughly pulls your shirt over your head. He groans appreciatively when the bra he picked out for you appears.
“Do you like it?” he asks. He doesn’t have the greatest track record when it comes to picking stuff that’s actually to your tastes, but you’d be lying if those items didn’t have their own special little drawer – that you definitely haven’t opened in far too long…
“I do,” you purr into his ear, biting your lip when he grinds his hips into you. He’s hard, seeking friction, release. You love when he gets this worked up over you. “You did a good job.”
“Hm,” he growls, “I didn’t like it at first. Thought it was kinda boring.” That’s not what you want to hear… It’s a good thing he opens his mouth again to continue: “But now that it’s your tits in there… Can’t decide if I wanna keep it on ya or rip it off…” To your surprise, he opts for the former, making sure to kiss every inch of skin that’s newly available to him as he makes his way down your stomach, dragging you to the edge of the bed as he goes along.
He can do it within minutes. Making you come on his tongue, that is. He never does, because the smug fucking bastard likes teasing you too much to ever give you what you want – nay, need – that quickly. That patience, however, is nowhere to be found when it comes to taking your clothes off. He admires you and your new underwear for maybe five seconds, and then your panties are somewhere in the room. No, you don’t care where, exactly.
“Fuck, Sugar, you’re beautiful,” Sy growls from between your legs. “I’ve missed this sweet little cunt.” His words used to startle you so bad you asked him to stop talking multiple times when you’d first started going out. Now, they just make you blush, and they make you wet, and that’s all that you need from him right now. Sometimes, you’re still grateful for the moments he can’t speak – when his mouth is otherwise occupied, so to speak. It’s the moaning, and growling, and the grunts and obscene slurping – hideous word, but sadly the only applicable description – sounds that get you. It’s the pleasure, and the way he knows exactly how and when and where to move his tongue to make you squirm, moan, and scream in his strong arms. Unfortunately, he still isn’t exactly at that point. He’s still teasing, and you’re still whining, and no one is coming.
In no time, you’re going nuts. It’s not bad enough to speak up. And by that you mean: beg him to finally eat you in that way you both know makes you see stars and seek God and scream His name – or Sy’s, but what difference does that make, anyway? Instead, he keeps you right there, at the point where you’re just invested enough in the fantastic feeling that you want to be consumed by it, but it just isn’t enough to keep you from getting distracted. By the feeling of his beard against the inside of your thighs. By the fact that your panties somehow ended up on the lamp on his bedside table. By the gentle pulsing of the vein in his forearm your finger currently rests on. And he keeps you there, and keeps you there until you’ve almost convinced yourself you’ve gotten so used to this – to him – that he can’t do it anymore, forgetting that he really isn’t even trying. That twenty years of ‘this’, whatever the fuck that may mean, just means that he’s found so many different ways to take care of you that he couldn’t go through all of them in one night even if you could physically take it, simply because he’d run out of time before he made it halfway through the list.
And when you get there, to that point where you start thinking he might just not be as good as he used to, you’ve lost. Because from then on, it’s a minute. Thirty seconds. Maybe even twenty, or ten, or less – not that you’d know, because you couldn’t count to three anymore if you tried.
“Darlin’, you taste like fuckin’ heaven,” he mutters, never taking his lips off your skin completely. His fingers tease your entrance, pads coarse and calloused. It appears that, even after all these years, you still haven’t learned that if your mouth won’t beg, your body will. Unconsciously, you angle your hips, lean into his touch, use your legs to pull him closer – and he answers. As always. Sy knows what you want, and he doesn’t think twice to give it to you, even if – possibly especially when – what you really want isn’t what you think you want. He’ll know, just like he’ll know exactly when his name is on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be released along with everything he’s building up inside of you.
A loud moan escapes you when his fingers curl inside you, diligently working the perfect spot while his tongue laps at your clit, looking for the perfect move, speed, pressure, everything, until you shriek the words ‘oh God, Sy, don’t stop’, or you gasp, or moan – or one of the million other ways in which you tell him what needs done without saying a single word. And he doesn’t stop. Not until he unravels you completely. Not until you remember why you normally close and lock that door and keep quiet. Not until you know with every fiber of your being that he holds back, and he reminds you of everything he’s capable of.
When he comes back up, caging your body in between his strong arms and broad chest, pinning you down on the mattress, you hope he’s had enough time to catch his breath, because you immediately pull him into a long, deep kiss that says more than just ‘I missed you’. If it was at all possible to stress every syllable of a sentence, now would be the time. But who’s got time for talking when that impatient bulge grinds between your legs, the heavy, coarse fabric of Sy’s jeans harsh against your sensitive skin.
You push against his shoulders – it’s usually pointless, but he seems to have grown at least as impatient as you have, so he gets up. Four hands reach for his belt. You always make a great team, but this is madness, and neither of you are surprised you don’t get anything done this way.
“Move those hands if you wanna keep ‘em, Syverson,” you say with a sly smile on your face. He grits his teeth when you look up at him – it’s one of the things you know he loves to hate, because it drives him insane, and he doesn’t like that. Sy wants to be in control. Tough luck. Getting him naked is child’s play now that his hands aren’t in the way anymore, and you can’t stifle an appreciative moan when his cock appears in front of you.
“I’m not saying I married you for this big dick, but it didn’t hurt your chances.” You bite your lip and look up at him. The amusement at your words fades off his face within seconds, making room for something darker and more sinister than you usually get to see.
“If you can use that mouth to talk, you can use it to suck my cock,” he says. You’ve played this game a thousand times, yet you’re still stupid enough to open your mouth in protest, and he seizes the opportunity. “That’s a good girl.” There’s a hint more… savagery to his naturally dark and gravelly voice than you’re used to hearing under normal circumstances. It’s a possessive, almost animalistic sound. It’s something that used to scare you when you were first going out. Something he didn’t let you get too closely acquainted with until he knew for sure he could trust you with that side of him – the side of him that sometimes just loves to shove his cock down your throat in one smooth thrust until you’re gagging and fighting back tears. Tonight is exactly the night you want every inch of him in the exact way you haven’t had him in for the longest time.
Your eyes beg, and once again he listens. How one man can be made up of so many contradictions, is something you’ve accepted you might never find out. ‘He gently fucks your throat.’ It sounds completely insane, but it’s possible. And you know it’s possible, because it’s happening. To you. Right now. If that weren’t the case, you probably wouldn’t have believed it yourself. He’s kind and ruthless at the same time, moving in and out of your mouth with controlled movements while moans and profanities escape him with reckless abandon. His hand is tangled in your hair, gathering a good portion of it in his fist, gripping just tight enough to remind you he’s there, but not so tight you’re in pain.
“God, baby, I love fucking this pretty li’l mouth of yours,” he says, teeth gritted, eyes closed, and the expression on his face warped in such a way that tells you it’s taking everything he’s got to keep whatever composure he has left at this stage. “But I gotta tell ya,” he continues as his breathing grows more and more ragged, a low growl barely audible on the exhale, “this ain’t what I need right now.”
He effortlessly tosses you back onto the mattress, finding his way between your legs in no time.
“Baby, I want you,” he growls before he kisses you again. “I need you. Need your tight, wet, fucking pussy around my cock right now.” He doesn’t move away from you much as he lifts your legs onto his shoulders. He’ll be deep, too deep, maybe, and you know you’ll regret this in the morning – but what good has regret ever done anyone, anyway? As he pushes into you, you realize he’s on his last bit of restraint. You take one last good look at him, because after this, it’s going to hurt so good you won’t be able to keep your eyes open for so much as a split second.
“Careful,” you chuckle, already far more out of breath than you like to admit, “you’re too much for me.”
“What’re’ya talkin’bout, woman?” Sy grumbles. “I know you can take me.” He’s not wrong. Exhibit A would be the fact that he buried his cock in your tight pussy with that one, agonizingly slow thrust. The next one is neither slow, nor even remotely as gentle, making you moan as you pull his face down to yours and kiss him. Your legs are trembling on his shoulders within minutes, and you find yourself chanting his name religiously – making it just about the only thing in your life you’ve done in that particular manner.
“Good God, you’re amazing,” Sy growls in your ear as he bottoms out with every erratic thrust. You watch as his jaw clenches when you dig your nails into the flesh of his back, careful to avoid the scars – an unwelcome souvenir from his time in the army. Most of the memories of the times you accidentally caught one in the heat of the moment have faded away by now. It hasn’t happened in years. You could draw a map of his back: every muscle, every scar, every mark on his skin is etched into your brain, and will stay there until the day you die. He’s yours every bit as much as you’re his, although he likes to put a little more emphasis on the latter.
“Want me to fuck another baby into you?” Hearing him say that makes you realize how incredibly happy you are that he can’t make good on that threat anymore. Sy hadn’t been happy when you’d informed him that you were bestowing upon him the incredible responsibility of contraception after having baby number three, but appointments were made, surgeries were had and all was right with the world. He’d only pouted and moaned about shooting blanks for about six months until things went back to normal.
“Do your worst, big guy,” you tease. You heard his breathing when he asked his question, felt the sheen of sweat covering his whole, massive body as he continued pounding you into the mattress with the same relentless pace as before, only slightly wavering in rhythm… You pull him close, gritting your teeth to get through the cramp in your leg as the weight of Sy’s body forces your legs closer to yours. “Fill me up.”
“That was mean,” Sy mutters, out of breath.
“As if you would have lasted any longer!” you say as you slap him in the face with a pillow. “I was about to tap out, anyway.” Not one word of that is a lie. You wouldn’t have walked for a week if you’d let him keep going. It really was a good thing he was a little on edge already…
“Fine, woman, have your victory,” he growls as he pulls you into his arms and lifts you off the bed. “Ready for another shower?”
#captain syverson#syverson fanfiction#captain syverson fanfiction#syverson x reader#syverson#syverson smut#syverson fic#syverson x you#henry cavill#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill characters#henrycavill fanfic
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୨⎯ "𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓"
(Im new on here and I hope you guys enjoy this!! It's actually the first chapter of my new wp fanfic)
Tw: abusive relationship, toxic relationship, strangling, dark rafe, jealousy.
Rafe wasn't the sweetest guy, not even close. He loved thea a lot but he would never show it, he was too 'cool for that lovey-dovey shit' in his words.
So when he called her up and told the girl to be ready in 10, she was completely confused. Still, thea made sure her pretty long locks fell perfectly and she wore a pair of jeans that hugged all the right places and a tight brown top.
"Baby, what's this? I'm taking you out. Somewhere nice so put one of the pretty dresses I've brought you, k?" Rafe doesnt ask, he tells.
"but I like this" whines the blonde as she stands in front of the mirror looking at him behind her slim frame in the reflection, she was 5'9 so he didn't tower over her as much as he did his ex.
Rafe sighs loudly and stares at there reflection. He shakes his head and grabs the girls wrist, turning towards him.
"I like this outfit too babe, but this time, I want my girlfriend to look extra good. So either put on the pink dress or the black one I got you." rafe said as he stared at her pretty face. Thea Peyton was lucky she was blessed with her mother's nose and her father's golden strands, making her the most beautiful chick in the Obx.
"fine" she huffs, strutting upstairs to change and feeling Rafes eyes dig daggers into her as her heals land on the wood.
Rafe watchs as Thea made her way upstairs. He watchs the way her hips sway as she walks, how everything he got the girl hugged her body and he couldn't help but smile to himself.
This was the first relationship where he was genuinely attracted to the girl he was dating, instead of faking it, maybe this one would actually be good.
She comes back down after 10 minutes. Now in a tight pink dress, searching rafes face for any indication he doesnt like it.
"You look amazing in that babe, really shows off your curves." Rafe cant help but stare at her. The dress was tight in all the right places and Rafe couldn't take his eyes off of thea. Hes mesmerized by how gorgeous she looks. He glances back down, not wanting her to notice how much he was staring.
"so where you taking me Rafey?" Thea asks him softly, letting her hand sway with his as he leads them both to his black truck which is where lots of there most unspeakable acts were performed.
"It's a surprise babe." Rafe beams as he opens the truck door for her. He climbs in after and shuts it. He starts the car, the engine purring. The truck starts to slowly drive out, and as he drives his eyes go over to her and he immediately grins.
"why are you being so nice?" she questions as the girl trys to rack her brain to remember if maybe it was one of there anniversarys? nope, or was it a holiday? wrong again.
Rafe laughs a little bit as her brain went into overdrive. "Babe, don't overthink it. I'm just being a good boyfriend. I thought that maybe we could go to a nice restaurant tonight and just chill." Rafe shrugged and smiles again.
Both ride in silence as they drive out of the city into the country passing all the big white houses that fill the streets of the outer banks. When she sees a sign for a nearby restaurant, Thea can't help but notice it's very nice and fancy. He pulls up and gets out, opening the door again.
"wow, how kind of you" she thanks in a posh british accent, her heels slightly twisted on the gravel of the parking lot.
Rafe chuckles at the way she thanked him making a mental note to tease the blonde later.
"Just following etiquette." He holds her hand and leads Thea to the restaurant, pushing the glass and greeting the waiter before they are sat at a nice table for two. It was empty besides the pair.
The waiter brought out menus and after a bit, Rafe ordered for her and himself. The waiters left to give the two time to talk. Rafe takes this opportunity to stare lovingly at her from across the table "am i dying or something?" Thea giggles as his icy blues don't leave her tanned skin.
"No, just a simple date babe." Rafe rolls his eyes mockingly but he keeps that grin plastered on his face. He leans forward a little and places his forearm on the table and his other hand goes to brush her light hair back, caressing theas cheek with his thumb.
A tingle runs down her spine and she couldn't help but notice rafe was acting different. Almost a bit too sweet, but he's probably just feeling a little romantic, right?
Then it clicks that rafe was only trying to make his girlfriend forget about what he had done to her last week.
Last weekꜜ
It was a Wednesday, and thea and her boyfriend sat in her room arguing again. She had put a love heart on her friend's photo on instagram and he wasn't taking it so well.
The argument was the same thing as always—you're too social, you have too many male friends, there's always drama etc. It was getting old and she were so sick of it. He was leaning his whole body over her lean frame now, looming over Thea and he grabbed her by the neck, shaking her a little bit.
"rafe please you're hurting me" She winced as his cold gold rings and to the pain of the pressure.
"Oh am I hurting you babe?" Rafe looks down with his blue eyes, filled with anger. "You hurt me every time you look at other men, every time you text them back, every time you're nice to them. You don't understand the pain you cause me." He grits his teeth and shakes a little bit harder.
Thea claws at his skin, trying to get free and to finally catch a breath, her nails dig into his skin and leave little marks which he will feel later. He lets out a little grunt of pain, but his grip on her tightens, making it hard to breathe.
He leans closer and screams into the girl's scared face, the veins on his neck and forehead are bulging "What is so hard to understand about that? You are mine and mine alone! If you can't handle that then maybe you should just leave then, right!" He leans even closer to her, his nose pressing against theas at this point.
Thea started to cry and she can't help but feel a wave of fear as Rafe pushes his weight down on her. His hand tightens around your throat, the lack of air making her breath shallow and frantic.
He takes his large hand away from her, chuckling gently at her as she falls to the floor. Her breath heavy as she gets access to the air again, clutching her neck to try soothe the pain.
Rafe just laughs and stands over Thea, not helping her up. He shakes his head thinking he's done nothing wrong and laughs again.
"See this is why you need to stop being so social and nice to people. If you just did what you were supposed to, none of this would happen." Rafe shrugged and sat down on the bed, leaning back on her pillows.
Of course, it was her fault.
Present dayꜜ
Rafe kept caressing her cheek. His grin never faded as his eyes looked deep into theas. There was an edge to the sweetness that she didn't like. He seemed a little too happy given how aggressive and mean he could get in just seconds. There was a certain anger behind those icy blues now that she noticed.
Rafe pulled her blonde hair a little too hard when he brushed it back over her shoulder, and that same tingle she felt a few minutes ago now felt like a pinprick in her stomach. He noticed this small change in the girl and his eyes narrowed, but he kept that nice guy persona.
The real question is how long can he last before lashing out again? He would never really change and both knew that.
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Ohio Is For Lovers | J.B
CHAPTER 2
Joe Burrow x Reader Series.
Warnings: 18+ only. MDNI. Angst. Explicit Language, Alcohol.
Word Count: 2,219
Read Chapter One Here
A few weeks later:
"Please please pleeaase Y/N! It'll be fun. We'll have unlimited food and drinks!" Mariana begs you for the 50th time. "Mariana, you know how I feel about this after what happened. Some fans will probably get stupid and I don't feel like listening to people call me names, look at me weird or throw some shit at me. I see how football fans can get and I'm good on that." You shake your head as you wash the dirty dish and lay it on the rack to dry. "No! You can't think like that! Don't let these assholes get to you! Ja'Marr is expecting both of us to be there and support the team. C'mon Y/N! Please...we'll have fun!" Mariana pleads again in front of you giving you puppy dog eyes.
Mariana came over before a game today to ask again about going to a Bengals game tonight. You had already told her no multiple times but she kept on insisting because Peyton was out of town for work and Sasha was with her family celebrating her moms birthday, so that left you. So she says, as if she hasn't gone to games with other people or even alone.
"Fine, but this is the only game I'm attending, you can tell Ja'Marr that too." You sigh going to your room to change. "Yes!! Thank you! Thank you!" She squeals as she follows you to your closet. You pick out an oversized black hoodie and black leggings. "You don't have anything with the Bengals on it?" Mariana. "Why would I? I don't even like football." You say starting to change clothes not caring that she was there, this wouldn't be the first time you'd change in front of your friends. "We'll get you something at the game." She nods. "I'll be fine in this." You shake your head knowing you're not going to buy merch of a team a person you really dislike plays on. You put on your white and black Nikes after putting on some socks and throw on an orange beanie. "This good enough?" You ask. "Better than nothing!" Mariana nods. You already had make up on from earlier today so you just retouched it a bit. You grabbed your phone, wallet and keys and made your way out of the apartment with Mariana. "I'm assuming I'm driving?" She asks as you two head down in the elevator. "Duh..." You chuckle. After getting into her car you two drive to the stadium. It was already a mess going into the parking lot with all these screaming drunk fans that tailgated. You were completely dreading being here for who knows how fucking long, you'd pray that crazy mid-west weather would kick in and they cancelled the stupid game but it was a perfectly sunny evening with no clouds in sight. Just you're fucking luck, you thought to yourself.
You two park in valet and security notices Mariana and they kindly lead you two to your seats. People of course were starting to recognize you two more, you would hear whispers from people who looked at you two. "Already hating this." You mutter to Mariana. "It'll be fine! Just keep your head up and keep walking" She reassures you. You two get escorted to your seats after stopping to get some beer and snacks. "See, not so bad." Mariana says. "Mhm." You hum. This was only the start of the night, you can't even imagine what could go wrong. The game finally begins and you smile watching your best friend cheer her boyfriend on. She seemed really happy and you really loved that for her since her last relationship wasn't all that great. She deserved to be happy with her partner.
During the game you got a couple looks and glares from people, mostly young teen girls who were all wearing Joe's stupid jersey. You didn't expect any less but as the game was nearing the end, your phone gets bombarded with notifications from your other friends and siblings. You open the stuff they sent you and they were all links about how you were spotted at the game with Mariana and a spreading rumor around that you were actually here to see and support Joe play, which could only mean to these delusional lying people that you and Joe were most likely an item. You roll your eyes at your phone and let out a big sigh of frustration.
You show Mariana and her Jaw drops. "And you thought I was being dramatic with coming here." You shake your head. "I didn't think that would happen! I'm so sorry Y/N...I'm sure we can clear this up somehow! I'll post that picture of us we took earlier on instagram and caption it in a way that will let everyone know we're both here for Ja'Marr!" She says and you just sit there upset at what was happening all over again. You knew you shouldn't have risked coming here.
When the game finally ends security comes to you and Mariana again. "Which one of you is Y/N Y/L/N?" One of them asks. "Me? What's going on?" You ask confused. People around you were looking at what was happening but thankfully the other security guards told them to keep it moving since they were holding up the line to get out of the section we were in. "Can you follow us?" The man asks. "Not until you tell me what's going on." You shake your head. "Joe Burrow wants a word with you him and Ja'Marr Chase, asked me to escort you two back to them." The large man says lowly near your ear. "Absolutely not." You shake your head. "Y/N...Maybe he can help with all these rumors and speculation. Finally put an end to all this..." Mariana says looking at you with pleading eyes, you knew she felt like crap for begging you come here. You look back at the security guard taking a deep breath and nod. They escort you to these golf carts and you and Mariana hop on. People looked at you both and took more pictures and video's which you despised. They take you where the locker rooms were and lead you to this lounge/ recreational type of area.
"The guys will be out any moment, feel free to help yourself to any drinks or snacks." One of them say. You and Mariana thank them and they leave you two alone. "Have you been here before?" You ask Mariana. "Twice, usually there's more girlfriends and wives in here though, kind of weird it's empty." Mariana says looking around, we were the only two in the room. You sit down and lean back in the seat just thinking about how this was happening. "You okay?" Mariana asks. "Nope." You shake your head. "What's running through your head?" She asks sitting on the arm of the chair next to you. "How I'm probably going to have to move out of Ohio and how I'm probably going to lose my job." You sigh. "Why would any of those happen?" She asks. "Mariana, I love you but you really don't get it do you?" You ask and she shakes her head no. You take a deep breath and let her in the situation.
"My job already threatened termination due to the whole cheating scandal video and I told them that it was just a big misunderstanding which it was but now that I'm here and new rumors are starting...it's going to look like confirmation that I actually did home-wreck and how I am now dating Joe." You sigh. "That's dumb! This is your personal life, even if any of this was true they have no right!" She scoffs. "Yeah but I represent the company and they don't want to be affiliated with someone like that, I'm so done there, I knew I should of stayed home." You rub your temples trying to think about how one stupid drunken night lead to all this. "I can talk to Ja'Marr maybe he can help with finding some good lawyers for you if that happens." Mariana says. "Lawyers for what? What did you two do?" You hear a voice say and you two turn your head to see Ja'Marr.
Mariana explains the situation to him and he shakes his head. "This is fucked up, I love Joe...he's my brother and all but he really threw you under the bus here." Ja'Marr says. "Yeah, well he doesn't think so." You shake your head. Speaking of the fucking devil, Joe walks into the room in some weird colorful sweats that made him look like rejected skittle. "Hey guys." He says mostly to Ja'Marr and Mariana. "Um...we'll leave you two alone. Here are my keys, Ja'Marr can take me home. Take my car, I'll pick it up tomorrow morning" Mariana says handing you the car keys. You say goodbye to Mariana and Ja'Marr and they walk out of the room. Mariana giving you one last supportive look before leaving.
"What is it that you want?" You ask Joe once they leave the room. "Why did you come here?" He asks right off the bat. "What?" You ask confused at that weird question. "Why did you come here? Was it to get back at me or something?" He asks. "What the hell are you talking about? I came here because Mariana begged me for days to attend this stupid game." You roll your eyes. "You just caused a whole lot of shit right now Y/N." Joe says shaking his head visibly upset. "ME!? Oh I'm sorry... was I the one that used you to get back at some girlfriend like we're 17 years old? Was I the one that let this whole shit fall on you and made you look like the bad guy when in reality it you had no idea what the hell was going on and that you even had a girlfriend let alone a girlfriend that was at the same fucking party as us!? How is this MY wrong doing. Tell me...Quickly." You cross your arms.
"You knew this was still blowing over, why the hell would you come to one of my games? It's to coincidental, I know you did this to rile shit back up! Stop acting so innocent." He spat back. "Your game? Since when were you the only player on the field. Your ego is out of this fucking world, especially since you think I'd be here to sabotage you in some way like you'd matter that much to me to do so. Get a fucking grip." You scoff.
"You can't come back here, I mean it. My publicist is on my ass right now about this and I have enough shit to worry about than worrying about you and your bullshit that you're causing me." Joe says angrily and you laugh. "What was it that you said to me last time when I told you my issue with this? Oh! that's right...I can't control what others say and it's not that serious. Stop being ridiculous, Joe." You smirk at him before you walk out of the room leaving Joe fuming just like you were at that party. Pay back is a fucking bitch.
************************
Later that night as you were getting out of the shower, Mariana calls you up. "Hey!" You answer after putting her on speaker. "Girl... what the hell happened?" Mariana asks. "About what?" You ask drying your body with the towel. "Joe just called Ja'Marr fuming about you, that he needed to stop giving you tickets to the games or whatever the hell it was that he was saying." Mariana said which made you laugh. "What a fucking idiot, as if anyone could control me going to one of their games, even if I got tickets through you guys or not, I can still buy my own." You shake your head as you put on your Pajamas.
"I just don't get how he doesn't see that he's the one in the wrong? Even Ja'Marr told him that he was being immature & out of pocket. And let me say he didn't like that one bit! Joe expects him to be on his side." Mariana sighs. "Of course he didn't like it, the guy is a narcissistic asshole." You scoff. "Well, anyway...I'll let you get to bed and stop bothering you with this. I just wanted to see if you were alright. I'll be over early tomorrow to get my car, hope that's okay?" She asks. "Yeah, I'll be up, just text me when you're on your way. See you then." You tell her grabbing your toothbrush. "See you." She says before hanging up. You couldn't help but to laugh to yourself about how much of an immature asshole Joe was. He could of cleared things up and controlled the dumpster fire he created but instead he wanted to play victim, which resulted in it now biting his ass. It was about time he got some of his own medicine.
After you brushed your teeth and moisturized, you plugged your phone up to the charger on your nightstand and got into bed. "What a fucking day." You say to yourself as you turn off your bedside light and got into bed, letting today's drama fade away from your dreams.
#joe burrow fanfiction#joe burrow fic#joe burrow fluff#joe burrow imagine#joe burrow x reader#joe burrow smut#joe burrow fan fic#joe burrow series
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WIP Intro: Hurts, Doesn't It?
I figured it was about time I introduced the novel I'm working on for Camp Nano :)
Will's a florist, not an expert on politics, but he knows a few things: the Executive runs things from the Capitol, which was rebuilt after the Second Civil War, and eventually his son will be the Executive. He never thought about it much; he was focused on going to NYU for botany and horticulture and the Olympics for archery. But now? Now, he's in prison for smuggling forged art (which he didn't do) and all his cellmates want to talk about it how the government is horrible and the Resistance (terrorists) are actually the good guys.
Enter Kat Barrick--the girl who got Will put in prison in the first place. When she breaks him out and offers her help getting him home, he is reasonably skeptical. Despite her secrets, she is trying to help him. He'll give her a chance to get him home. But as he learns more about her world and the truth behind his history books, he begins to wonder if home is still within reach.
my baby my novel that i've been writing for years my beloved. here are the main characters (picrew used):
Will Moore: He's a florist from Jersey who did NOT sign up for any of this. that's okay, though. he's figuring it out. His favorite hobbies are archery and talking to people about flowers. He will find a way to mention the fact that he's a florist in any conversation. wants to go to the olympics but already won the himbolympics
Kat Barrick: she's an art forger who ran away from home at seventeen and supports her family by selling her paintings on the black market. yes she throws knives no you don't get to know where she learned to. not here to fuck around, just trying to get through the day. she WILL stab you if you get in her way though
Peyton Barrick: Kat's older brother and perpetually exhausted mother hen. Great public speaker but prefers to be cooking most of the time. Definitely going to trick you into being a vegetarian because he is and knows his way around a spice rack enough to convince you that you are eating pork, not eggplant. why is he a vegetarian? none of your fucking business.
Scarlett Carter: battle-worn leader of the Resistance and antique revolver enthusiast. yes it's very funny that she has a gigantic scar across her face and her name is Scarlett. mention it again and she'll show you one of those revolvers up close. these new kids are giving her grey hairs.
Hayden Stone: Scarlett's husband and the brains of the Resistance. NOT a morning person, will greet you with a shotgun if you wake him up. loves his daughter and is very sad that she decided to be a spy when he's just trying to keep her safe. thinks Will's puns are shitty and has a bet going on how long it'll take Kat to kill him.
My goal for Camp Nano has been to write 25,000 words and as of 4/11 I'm about halfway there :D
Posts tagged for this novel can be found here. A few highlights so far:
Kat and Will getting drunk and watching the news
15-question character interview of Kat and Will
Kat and Will having an Emotional Talk
Will taking a serious risk
The following excerpt is the opening scene, where Will meets Kat in his shop for the first time. let me know if you're interested in being added to the taglist for this wip! <3
I nudged the unconscious man with the bristles of the broom. “Are you dead?”
A small groan escaped. “She left me…”
“Jesus, you’re a sad drunk,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Dude, you have to make like a tree and leave.”
He mumbled something that sounded like an insult and turned over, face-down on the floor. I nudged him again with the broom, then smacked him when he didn’t move. He lurched up into a sitting position, swearing vaguely in my direction, and nearly knocked over a potted plant on a stand.
“I’m calling the cops if you don’t leave,” I said, moving towards the counter. “Whatever your deal is, it’s none of my business, but you gotta do it somewhere else.”
He grumbled and groaned but another smack with the broom had him up and stumbling out of the store. I rearranged the vases and potted plants that he’d disturbed and swept up the fallen leaves and petals.
The bell over the door rang and I turned to greet the customer. “Welcome to Lydia’s Fine Flowers, how can I help you?”
The young woman smiled, running her fingers over the head of one of the flowers near the door. “Just looking, thank you,” she said. “Who’s Lydia?”
“My mom,” I said, retreating behind the counter. “She grows all these flowers herself. Best florist in Jersey.”
“Not that you’d ever brag,” the young woman said with a smirk.
“That would be utterly unbe-leaf-able,” I replied, setting the broom back in its spot. “Bragging is very unbecoming.”
“Plant puns must be part of the job,” she said.
“The fun part.”
“Hmm.” She turned to look at the refrigerated arrangements. I went back to the shop computer, squinting at the inventory numbers. We would need to sell the summer arrangements soon, with fall coming up. I bit my lip. My mom would be on her own in a few months. I’d been helping out in the shop for as long as I could remember, and now I was off to college. How would she fare without me?
I turned around, shaking off the worry. My mom would be fine. I spotted the young woman frowning at a bouquet and walked over.
She jumped a little when I got close, her hand going to her waist. She relaxed when she saw it was me. I grinned at her. “Forget me not.”
She blinked. “What?”
I gestured at the display. “Forget-me-nots. I can check the pricing if you’d like.”
She sighed, her hand dropping away from her waist. “No, thanks. I was just thinking about a picture I saw once. I recognized the flowers from that.”
“I see. Let me know if you have any questions,” I said, returning to the counter. I picked up my book from behind the register and flipped through the pages until I found the spot I had left off at.
Olympic Committee Requirements
My fingers itched, imagining myself at the Olympic tryouts the next summer. I would win gold, I was sure of it. I'd already won state and regional archery competitions, gone to nationals, and beaten more experienced archers who were twice my age. I was more than cut out for it.
I was going to make it.
The crinkle of tissue paper jolted me out of the book. “Will?”
I glanced up at the young woman, startled. She smiled at me, her eyes flicking down to my nametag. I grinned back. “I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here. You don’t have a nametag.”
“How much for these?” she asked, gesturing at the bouquet of lilies she’d set on the counter.
“Fifteen.” I punched it into the register. “Cash or card?”
“Cash.” She set the money down on the counter and fiddled with the lilies as I made change.
“Are those a gift for someone or just for you?” I wrapped them up in paper and added a packet of plant food.
“They’re for my little sister.” Her lips twitched. “They’re her favorite.”
“That’s sweet.” I handed her the change. “I never did get your name.”
“Hmm.” She turned, curling brown hair swinging over her shoulder. I caught the faint whiff of mint before the bell chimed and she was gone. I stared after her for a second before returning to my book.
I had bigger things to worry about.
if you want to get into the mood, this wip does have a playlist
#wip intro#writeblr community#writers on tumblr#writeblr#original fiction#hdi?#angry knife child#token florist#prince of parsnips#country girls make trouble#no dad jokes allowed#rb original#Spotify#camp nano april 2023#camp nanowrimo
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Journeys with Balan - Chapter 4: Keep on Buggin’
I was in Balan's bedroom, sitting on the chaise longue and reading a book. I gradually took an interest in reading thanks to his remarkable collection of books on his bookshelf. I thought that I might do something to pass the time while Balan is busy doing paperwork, managing the theatre, and entertaining the guests before letting them proceed with their heart-healing quests. All of a sudden, I heard the door open which didn't bother me as I already knew who it was.
"Hi, Peyton! I'm back!", Balan greeted as he entered the room and walked towards me.
"Hello, Balan!", I greeted in return as I stood up and we kissed on the lips.
"How is my love doing?", he asked as we sat down.
"Great as always. I've been reading a lot lately", I answered.
"What are you reading now?", he enquired whilst cuddling me affectionately.
"A book about nature", I replied as I caressed his arms.
"Ah! That's a fine choice", he commented.
"By the way, I've been wondering about something", I said.
"What is it?", he asked.
"I've always wanted to learn about insects, but my fear has hindered me from doing so", I admitted.
"Is that so? Tell me, dear. When did this fear start?", he queried out of concern.
"For as long as I can remember. I've encountered roaches several times, especially flying ones. I had to immediately leave the room whenever I see them flying around. When they remain still on the wall or floor, I smacked them with a slipper and either threw them out of the window or flush them in the toilet. I also experienced those critters on my skin a few times and thankfully, they didn't crawl. If they do, I would be scared to the point of passing out", I recounted.
"Good heavens! That sounds quite terrible", he remarked.
"Yeah, no kidding. Roaches give me anxiety while maggots give me unbearable nightmares. They're stuck in my head either by thinking about them or looking at them", I furthered and shuddered out of disgust.
"I'm so sorry. I had no idea how intense your fear is", he empathized.
"I just don't know if I could conquer my entomophobia or not", I said and let out a frustrating sigh.
"Let me help you", he offered.
"Pardon?", I wondered.
"As the ruler of Wonderworld and your significant other, it is my duty to help you solve whatever problems you have", he sincerely expressed whilst holding my hand.
"That's thoughtful of you as always, Balan", I stated with a smile.
"There's a world that revolves around an inhabitant's passion for bugs. I'd be more than happy to take you there. I can assure you that the bugs there aren't as scary and harmful as you think", he explained.
"Oh, that sounds interesting. Can we go now?", I asked.
"Of course! But first, let's go to the isle to pick Tori up. We wouldn't want to forget our travel buddy", he suggested.
"Right!", I responded as we stood up from the chaise longue.
I put the book back on the shelf and headed to the shoe rack to put on my heels. Balan and I exited the bedroom and went downstairs to go to the main stage. After opening the curtains, we made our way to the Isle of Tims. I let out a blissful sigh to relish the gentle breeze as we strolled along. Suddenly, we heard a familiar sound coming from a mile away. We looked around until we saw Tori hopping towards us.
"Timu timu!", Tori excitingly chirped.
"Hi Tori!", I gleefully greeted with my arms stretched out.
They hopped on my arms as I gave them a hug, petting them on the head softly.
"We missed you so much, you lovable and adorable furball", I expressed.
"Timu!", Tori chirped and nuzzled my cheek, conveying they missed us too.
"Are you ready to learn about bugs, Peyton?", Balan asked.
"I sure am!", I replied.
"Alright then! Off we go!", he exclaimed as he snapped his finger, teleporting us to a bug-themed garden.
Once we arrived, I gasped at how gigantic the garden appeared. Looking at the surroundings, the area was full of greenery, the walls were made out of wood, and there were different shapes and sizes of mushrooms. Judging from the details of the wood, it looked like we were on the inner part of a tree. Either way, it was an enchanted garden that was pretty much straight out of a fairytale.
"Dazzling, isn't it?", Balan remarked whilst spreading his arm to exhibit its beauty.
"It certainly is", I answered as I got misty-eyed.
"Shall I show you around?", he offered as he laid his hand in front of me.
"Lead the way, my love", I accepted as he carried me and placed Tori on his back.
I held on to Balan securely as he started flying me and Tori around the area. I saw honeycombs, glowing and colourful illustrations of butterflies and dragonflies, vines, and spider webs on the walls. Surprisingly, there were objects that one would typically find in schools such as stacks of giant books, chalkboards, and lockers. My eyes widened and my mouth went agape, feeling astounded at the miscellaneous artifacts as our aerial exploration went on.
Afterwards, we landed on the grassy ground, sat down next to each other with our legs crossed, and I let Tori rest on my thigh. Out of nowhere, a trio of insects flew in front of us. A ladybug landed on my left thumb, a butterfly landed on the back of my left hand, and a dragonfly landed on the palm of my right hand.
"Woah! I can't believe I'm seeing them all at once", I intriguingly claimed.
"It looks like you're warming up to them, Peyton", Balan said with a comforting grin.
"They felt a bit ticklish on my skin", I frankly stated and let out a giggle.
"Any other insects that you want to see?", he enquired.
"Hmmm... How about a grasshopper, an inchworm, and a spider?", I suggested.
"Coming right up! I'll be back in a moment", he stood up and flew away to find the particular insects.
"Hello there, critters. So nice of you to drop by", I softly uttered whilst observing them carefully.
"Timu...", Tori chirped with focused eyes, looking at them astonishingly.
"I know right? They're quite cute and interesting", I remarked.
"I'm back! As per your request, Peyton", Balan knelt to show me the insects in his hands.
"Cool!", I exclaimed.
Balan gently put the grasshopper on my left arm, the inchworm on my right index finger, and the spider on my right arm.
"Pinch me, I must be dreaming", I delightfully expressed as I didn't expect to see five bugs and an arachnid in one day.
Balan couldn't help but chuckle at how much fun I was having. He then explained to me the purpose of each critter and its importance to the ecosystem. I immediately took an interest in the eye-opening information that he provided.
"Wow! I didn't realize they contributed so much to the environment. I'm learning a lot from you", I commented out of fascination.
"It's the least I could do to help you with your setback", Balan genuinely responded.
"By the way, I'm curious about that particular object over there. What does it do?", I queried as I looked up and pointed to something that had a yellow spherical top with four blue squares on the bottom.
"Ooh! I'm glad you asked. Allow me to demonstrate", he exhilaratingly said as he went towards the object.
Once Balan tapped one of the squares with the palm of his hand, the squares expanded to cubes, and the sphere split in half, emitting a couple of shockwaves that illuminated the entire garden with navy blue light. As I stood up to look around, it caught me completely off guard that everything was glowing.
"Say hello to the best part of this trip: bioluminescence", Balan asserted.
"Oh my gosh! It's even more beautiful!", I exclaimed as I got misty-eyed once more.
At that moment, the insects and the spider started to glow as well. Balan walked towards me and we both paid attention to their luminosity, leaving us in wondrous awe. The bug trio began to fly away, but not before making contact with my cheeks as a way of bidding farewell. I waved goodbye to them, hoping that I would see them again.
As Balan, Tori, and I relaxed under a tall mushroom, the grasshopper hopped away while I laid my arm on the ground for the inchworm and the spider to roam freely. Subsequently, we noticed a bunch of fireflies lighting up as they slowly flew around our resting spot, creating a pleasantly radiant ambiance.
"Hey, Balan?", I said.
"Yes, Peyton", Balan replied.
"Thank you for this breathtaking and educational experience. I wouldn't be able to overcome my entomophobia if it weren't for your help", I appreciatively expressed whilst giving him a warm hug.
"You're always welcome, sweetheart. I'd do anything for you", he acknowledged as he wrapped his arms around me.
Balan and I blushed as we enjoyed our romantic moment by locking lips for a prolonged time. He tenderly brushed my hair and I caressed his cheek while we went on tasting each other's breaths and tongues. Right after, I nuzzled my face on his chest as we continued with our cuddle session, feeling utterly satisfied that our adventure went well and concluded with a serene atmosphere.
#balan#balan wonderworld#bww#wonderworld#balan fanfiction#balan wonderworld fanfiction#fanfiction#journeys with balan#chapter 4#keep on buggin'
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i just think Peyton is a know-it-all bitch. She’s still young and has the same attitude as daddys_lil_raindrop when it comes to if you disagree with her about *anything* she will insist you’re uneducated, bitch you out and block you. She handles situations like a child, partakes in call out posts when it’s not needed and actively looks for drama to involve herself with cause she has too much time on her hands and thinks she’s a dungeon queen RACK master. She’s just a bitch imo. I don’t think she’s a bad person, but i hate her personality.
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WEEK 8
HELLO EVERYONE AND WELCOME BACK 👏👏👏 We are now HALFWAY through the FOURTH season of the NFL pick-em pool challenge! big money is on the line and some BIG moves have been made 🤑🤑🤑 let's see how everyone stacks up heading into the back half 🔙🔙🔙
VAL - 13 POINTS
It's a dark, dismal day. So overcast you can't tell the time, rain drizzling into streets lined by dilapidated row houses. Is this a scene from James Cameron's "The Terminator"? Nope, it's just a normal Tuesday in Pittsburgh 🤷♀️ BUT THIS TIME THERE IS A RAY OF SUNSHINE ☀☀☀ AND HER NAME IS VALERIE DAIGNEAULT ESQUIRE shining like a fiery, 13 point beacon 🚨 Can she bring this momentum in the second have of the year and take the crown this time?!?! 👑👑👑
ABBY - 12 POINTS
Another fantastic showing by Abby means she is currently IN THE MONEY 💲💲💲 at 3rd place. She's famous for doing flips, dressing in animal print and calling it a costume for Halloween, and SCORING POINTS. I don't know how she does it, considering her entire household consists of a girl who has never watched an NFL game in her entire life and a dog with about 4 brain cells. Incredible! 🧠
JANIE - 12 POINTS
THANKFULLY Janie has finally strung together a few good weeks 💹 keeping her in the hunt for the money 💰 I was worried if the losing streak continued she'd start racking up larger and larger wine bills at Postinos 🍷🍷🍷 Invite me next time!
PEYTON - 11 POINTS
SOLID week for our new rental management guru 🏘🏠 He knows houses and he knows football 🏈
You call them vaulted ceilings, he calls them ceilings
You call it a bar, he calls it a minibar
You call it a crawl space, he calls it a 'hell no I ain't gonna fit in there'
You call it football, he calls it FREE MONEY 💰💰💰
JJ - 11 POINTS
JJ "Bobby Knight" Daigneault is on a roll! Now that he's got his looper machine he really has left behind the Boyz in the Back and gone solo 🎤🎤🎤 Are you ready for his first hit? "The willingness to sing is only superseded by the willingness to prepare to sing" 🎶🎶 Inspo board material right there 😢
LISA - 10 POINTS
She's holding on to her lead by a THREAD here 📏 will she be able to sustain the lead into the back half of the season??? 🤔 We doubt she's concerned about that right now, she's preparing for the weekend, November is Lisa's superbowl 😤 Daylight savings time is the ultimate championship for a professional sleeper like her - will she get 14 hours? 15 hours?! TIME WILL TELL 🛏🛏🛏🛏
RUSTY - 10 POINTS
FINALLY 🏁 For the FIRST time in nearly 7 weeks, our perennial caboose 🚂 is OUT of last place 🚨🚨🚨 Is this the start of the greatest 16 points comeback the work has ever seen??? Mmmmmm probably not 😐 BUT WHO KNOWS???!!! Everyone loves a good underdog story and I can't wait to see where Rusty ends up!
GABBY - 10 POINTS
10 points for our girl Gabby, not amazing, but not bad 👍 I think she could have done a little better but she has a rather frenetic social calendar to keep up:
JULIETTE - 5 POINTS
In honor of Halloween Juliette decided to be Tarzan and Jane 🌳🌳🌳 UNFORTUNATELY for her she channeled the brain of Tarzan and the brawn of Jane 🏋️♀️ This FIVE point performance was less Tarzan and more George of the Jungle, OOF 🤮https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0119190/
Alrighty everyone CONGRATS on a great bounce back week (except Juliette) , glad to see everyone back at it (except JuJu). I'm looking forward to another GREAT week coming up (except Thomas the JuJu Train) 🚂🚂 see you all next time!
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congratulations, kay, your character(s) have been accepted! under the read more is a list of the accepted character(s)~
( charles melton. high school musical. 23. bisexual. ) everyone in cape magnolia knows TROY BOLTON. HE/HIM is a BASKETBALL COACH AT THE YOUTH CENTER, they live in ANCHOR APARTMENTS but you can always find them hanging out at MAGNOLIA PIER. they may live in a ghost town, but tea is what they’re really afraid of is NOT BEING ACCEPTED FOR WHO HE IS. Everyone in town has a theory about what happened the night Ashleigh disappeared, but he thinks SHE RAN AWAY FROM ALL OF THE PRESSURE PUT ON HER. ( kay. 23. she/her. )
( chase sui wonders. one tree hill. 21. bisexual. ) everyone in cape magnolia knows PEYTON SAWYER. SHE/HER is a STUDENT & PART-TIME RETRO RACK CASHIER, they live in GREEN LAGOON but you can always find them hanging out at BOARDWOK'S. they may live in a ghost town, but tea is what they’re really afraid of is DISAPPOINTING THE PEOPLE SHE LOVES. Everyone in town has a theory about what happened the night Ashleigh disappeared, but she thinks THAT SOMEONE KIDNAPPED HER. ( kay. 23. she/her. )
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burt reynolds saints row
This seems to be a simple matter but I have received emails containing prayer requests from many asking St. Joseph to find them to be a good husband, or sell their house, or send them money to lighten their financial burden, or restore their relationship with their husband or wife, etc. And then, saints row Registration Key will end with a 'thank you' to St. Joseph for granting their prayers.
The saints took the area believing they could defeat they. The game got off to a slow start, however, it quickly switched gears planet second one. Completing passes anywhere he wanted, the Saints starting Quarterback Drew Brees took inside the game. Has been nothing they could complete. The saints scored points every time they had the football.
Dallas' defense, meanwhile, means more than 21 points only twice all season -- both times in losses opposed to the Giants. saints row License Key has not scored far more 24 points in its last six games, despite solid play from quarterback Tony Romo, who has thrown for 950 yards and seven touchdowns with zero interceptions in deals with three Dallas games.
Speaking very good games, Drew Brees the whale in regards to a game. He tossed the ball around for 384 yards and racked up 5 TD passes. Appears like the new Orleans offense has amazing package added up. They are fun to this season.
Just as Saints help those who remain on earth build up the kingdom of heaven, Obi-Wan helps Luke destroy the Death Star, directs him to Yoda in Degobah, and helps him discern his ultimate battle in reference to his father.
On sleep issues of things, Drew Brees may be the best quarterback in the NFL. Only Peyton Manning has arguably been more prolific on offense.
Finally saints row Activation Key Free to be able to Jermon Bushrod, Jahri Evans, Carl Nicks, Jonathan Goodwin and Jon Stinchcomb, the offensive line who ensure all happen around her. The way they handled the Giants front 7 on Sunday goes display what a unit they are extremely. The pass protection has been flawless and these companies have helped establish the Saints as among the leagues best running clubs. Sadly these guys are never to be able to find the fame linked to the likes of Bush, Brees and Co. but if they continue playing mainly because they have they could help turn this into the most well-known New Orleans Saints team of all time. Here's hoping!
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Peyton Rack, Hidden Faces, 2024
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Beautiful leggy Peyton List, from Legends of Tomorrow and Mad Men
#peyton list#rocking body#great legs#great thighs#great rack#legs for days#legendary legs#great body#great hips#dancer body#power thighs#mad men#legends of tomorrow#sexy blue dress#mini dress
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from psawyer with love @literarist
she flips through stacks she’s already gone through a million times . anything to keep herself busy , to keep her from having to return to that big , empty house . freedom has felt an awful lot like loneliness lately . peyton ignores the conversations around her in the record shop and focuses on the album in her hands , she already has it but her copy skips during her favorite song on side b ... maybe she’ll get this one to replace it ... that’s when she notices that someone has joined her at the rack . with a supposedly subtle glance she realizes that it’s the new kid , the one she rarely sees on the school’s campus . “ uhm hi , ” she says around a nervous chuckle , “ i’m peyton , we haven’t met yet but i go to tree hill too . ” exceedingly out of character to introduce herself first , but she figures finding someone that actually wants to talk to her might ease the black ache in her chest .
#literarist#“ . interaction ‚ i drive down different roads but they all lead back to you .#let me know if you would like something different!
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Oh No!
Summary: You unexpectedly catch the eye of a psychopath when you stand up for yourself.
Pairing: Jerome Valeska x reader
Word count: 6.7k
Warnings: Non-con fingering, blood, reader is in high school but is 18, kidnapping, possessive behavior, language
A/N: happy halloween! this is a fic i had written a while back that i edited A LOT. hope you enjoy :)
"Score, Gotham, score! We want more!" you chanted along with your fellow cheerleaders at the top of your lungs, rustling your maroon and white pom poms to the rhythm. "Hit 'em where it hurts and knock 'em to the floor!"
The bus erupted in a series of whoops and hollers, the excitement for the upcoming game palpable in the air. The bus driver glared at the cheerleaders in the rearview mirror. "Sit down!" he shouted.
You did as you were told and returned to your seat, the other cheerleaders mimicking you. You sat closest to the aisle next to a girl named Isabella Green. She was relatively quiet and kept to herself, but your time on the squad together had opened her up to you, and you ended up becoming close friends over the years.
“Ready for the game to be over?” she asked with a roll of her eyes.
You playfully bumped your shoulder into hers. “Stop! It’s the last game of senior year. Try to enjoy it while it lasts?”
She forced out a wry laugh. “That’ll be hard to do with Peyton breathing down my neck.” She glared in the direction of the ruthless cheer captain loudly chatting with her friends at the front of the bus.
You opened your mouth to come to Peyton’s defense when the blare of a car horn cut you off. The bus lurched to a stop, nearly throwing you and Isabella out of your seat. You gripped the back of the seat in front of you to steady yourself. You whipped your head forward to look out the windshield and saw a red truck with the words “HEST OIL” on the side blocking the bus’s path. You rose slightly out of your seat and peered above the other confused cheerleaders’ heads to get a better look at what was going on.
Three figures piled out of the truck wearing white straitjackets. One of them scrambled to get the door on the driver’s side of the truck and yanked on the handle. It swung open, and he stood at attention as the final member of the group emerged from the truck.
A tall boy of about nineteen with fiery, red hair hopped out of the truck. Judging by the confidence he exuded and the way the others regarded him, it was clear he was the leader of their little group. You couldn’t help but notice that he was attractive. He had a boyish charm to him, but any appreciation you had for his appearance dissipated when his lips stretched into a menacing smile that sent shivers down your spine like ice had been poured down the back of your uniform.
As the four men made their way over to the bus, you seemed to realize at the same time the rest of your squad did who they were: the Maniax, the recently escaped inmates of Arkham Asylum who were wreaking havoc all over Gotham City. The footage of them mercilessly murdering people by throwing them off of a building had played nonstop on the news, so it was impossible not to recognize them.
The cheerleaders exchanged weary glances, and the unnerving silence that had fallen over the bus was pierced by hushed, frantic whispers. The redhead skipped over to the bus gleefully, spinning and sliding as he came to a stop in front of the glass door like a dancing child. He stared the bus driver dead in the eye as he tapped the gun in his hand against the glass in a signal for him to open the door.
Screams arose from the group once they realized exactly what kind of trouble they were in for, piercing your ears. You, on the other hand, had the complete opposite reaction: you became paralyzed, every muscle in your body freezing up as the gravity of the situation hit you like a freight train. You felt impossibly cold, and your mind could only comprehend five words: I am going to die.
Reluctantly, the bus driver gave in, his finger hovering over the button before eventually pressing it. You knew there wasn’t much else he could do, but you still couldn’t help but feel betrayed. The door opened with a rush of air, and a pleased grin spread across the redhead’s face.
He skipped up the steps and paused at the top of the stairs. He leaned down and swiftly seized the driver by his collar. He yanked him out of his seat and sent him hurtling down the stairs. He tumbled out of your view, but a second later, a gunshot rang outside, earning several yelps from the group. You flinched and squeezed your eyes shut tightly.
Panic spread throughout the bus like wildfire as cheerleaders leapt out of their seats. They rushed towards the different exits, shoving and pushing each other like animals. The redhead immediately put a stop to this behavior, however, by raising his gun in the air and firing one shot at the ceiling. The blast echoed throughout the interior of the bus, and everyone froze where they were. The attempted escapees slowly returned to their seats, watching him with fearful, anxious eyes like a deer caught in headlights.
The redhead grinned. "Ladies," he glanced at the few male cheerleaders, furrowing his brow, "and gentlemen," his momentary confusion subsided, and his eerie smile returned to his face, "stay where you are, or else that won't be the only time I shoot."
You swallowed the urge to scream and reached for Isabella’s shaky hand. She intertwined her fingers with yours, gripping tightly. You glanced at her face. Her eyes were red, and tears streamed down her cheeks, taking bits of mascara with them. Her glossy lips were pursed into a thin, quivering line, and you could tell she was choking back sobs. You gave her clammy hand a reassuring squeeze, although you were freaking out internally just as much she was.
The three other psychos boarded the bus and joined the redhead’s side. "Boys," he commanded, grinning out at the cheerleaders sinisterly, "cuff 'em."
The men smiled and stared at the group like predators stalking their prey. They went row by row, handcuffing cheerleaders to their seats while their hostages resisted the urge to protest, stifling sobs and weeping silently.
A man with untamed curly hair was the one to approach where you were sitting. He leaned over you to handcuff Isabella first before turning to you. When you didn’t offer him your hands, he roughly tugged on your wrists and chained them to the seat. You narrowed your eyes at him until they were slits. If looks could kill, he certainly would’ve been six feet under.
He pulled away from you and met your deadly gaze. His lips pulled back to form an evil grin, and you noticed with disgust that his teeth were yellow, sharpened points like a shark’s. It only lasted a second before he moved onto the next row in a flash, and you watched him go, your gut churning with revulsion.
You didn’t know what had changed within you, but suddenly you were no longer racked with anxiety. All you could feel now was disdain and hatred for these men, these murderers who were torturing you and your friends for their perverse enjoyment.
After everyone was handcuffed, two of the men exited the bus while the curly-haired one stayed alongside the redhead. He guarded the door to make sure no one else tried anything while the redhead stood at the front of the bus.
"I want you all to know," the redhead paced down the middle of the aisle, his footsteps loud like claps of thunder in the otherwise quiet bus, "this was a very difficult decision for us." He approached the seat where Peyton was cowering in the corner. "It was between you and a senior citizen bingo party."
He aimed his gun at her head, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her teeth sank into her lower lip so aggressively you thought she would split the skin, and you could tell she was trying her best to remain quiet. He pulled his gun away, chuckling at her reaction.
"In the end, we decided to skew a little younger.” He moved away from her and continued down the aisle like a shark circling the water. “Youth won the day. Sorry.” He faked an apologetic pout, although it didn’t seem sincere in the slightest. He returned to his place at the front of the bus and shouted, "Give me an O!"
Your brow furrowed in confusion. The cheerleaders jerked in their restraints, trying uselessly to break free. You thought you heard a few people plead, "Please, let us go!"
The amused expression dropped from the redhead's face, and he raised his gun to the ceiling again. He fired, the booming gunshot piercing the air and catching you off guard. Those around you shrieked before growing quiet.
"I said,” he gritted his teeth, “'give me an O!'"
"O!” you and the others repeated after him.
"Give me an N!”
"N!”
"Give me another O!" he cheered with imbued enthusiasm.
"O!” you stuttered out, your voice wavering and unreliable.
"What does that spell?" he asked, smiling wildly.
You all chanted together in unison, "Oh, no!”
The curly-haired man handed him a hose, which the redhead gladly took. A mysterious liquid spouted from the nozzle, and he aimed the stream at the cheerleaders in the seats closest to him. It took a second for the putrid odor to reach your nose, but when it did, you identified it as gasoline. Your eyes went wide as you realized his intentions.
He’s going to light the bus on fire.
The redhead walked up and down the aisle, dousing the entire bus in gasoline. He made sure to spray it directly in some people’s faces, delighting as they panicked and sputtered from being hit with the harsh blast head on. He sprayed the hose above your seat and those around you in a large arc, and drops splattered off the windows and falling down upon you like acid rain.
You found that the gasoline lubricated your hands just enough that when you contorted them (probably injuring them in the process), you were able to slip them out of the handcuffs. It took quite a bit of effort, but once you were freed, you hid your hands between your knees out of the redhead’s view. The skin around your wrists was red and raw from the metal cuffs digging into them.
You started to hastily throw together a plan in your mind. There had to be something you could do to save your friends. Escaping obviously wasn't an option; the curly-haired man was still standing guard at the door. Getting help wasn't a viable choice either, in case you alerted the redhead that you were free. The only thing there was left to do was to face the redhead straight on. Although you could be killed in the process, you would take your chances. It wasn’t like sitting there obediently would change that outcome anyway.
The redhead passed by your seat, and when his back was to you, you sprang up and launched yourself at him. You landed on his back, a cry falling from your parted lips. Your surprise attack threw him off balance, and he grasped at the backs of the seats around him to steady himself. The cheerleaders around you stared at you with wide eyes and slack jaws. You instinctively grabbed onto his hair, attempting to tear out tufts of red orange as you sunk your teeth into his neck without thinking. You felt the bared skin break and something wet seep out from around your teeth.
He yelled out in anguish as you marred his alabaster flesh. In one swift movement, he leaned forward, sliding you off of his back, and you hit the floor with a solid thud. Every bone in your body ached, and it felt like the wind had been knocked out of your lungs, leaving you gasping for air.
You groaned in pain, squeezing your eyes shut, and when you opened them, you were staring down the barrel of a gun. You raised your gaze a little higher and locked eyes with the redhead staring down at you.
It was like all the air had been sucked out of the bus. You studied his angered expression, his tense brow and lips pulled back over his teeth in a sneer. But as quickly as it had appeared, his countenance softened into one of shock. You imagined what you must look like. The copper taste of his blood was still on your tongue and surely smeared across your lips like rouge, the same blood dribbling out of the bite on his neck and staining his otherwise pristine straitjacket.
You stared at each other for what felt like hours, like you were the only two people on the bus. Those around you held their breath, anxiously fidgeting and waiting in anticipation for what would happen next. Then, his lips slowly curled into a smile.
"You," he began slowly, "got out of your handcuffs, then had the audacity to attack me?"
You blinked at him. You didn’t get a chance to respond as manic, crazy laughter bubbled from his lips. You winced while the redhead doubled over, slapping his knee. The sound made your skin crawl, and from the looks on the faces of the cheerleaders around you, it had the same effect on them as well. He wiped away a stray tear rolling down his cheek as his cackling ceased. He shook his head at you, the gun still trained between your eyes.
"You, you are crazy. I like you already." He took a step closer and towered over you until his face was mere inches from yours. "You're coming with me, princess."
Before you had time to register the weight of his words, he wrapped his arms around your waist and threw you over his shoulder. He spun around and started marching towards the exit. You heard cries of your name, and you looked up to see Isabella staring after you with glassy eyes and trying to rise out of her seat.
Gasoline dripped down the stairs as the redhead hopped down them, forming a puddle on the pavement. You shrieked, beating your fists against his back and kicking wildly, although your assault didn’t seem to affect him in the slightest. Once he was off the bus, he tossed the hose aside carelessly and set you down.
The second your feet touched the ground, you tried to run, but you barely got a step away from him before his arm snaked around your waist. He pulled your back flush against his chest and buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. You squirmed in his grip and clawed at his hold on you, but he remained strong and stoic like a sentinel. Your efforts were to no avail.
The other three men rejoined the redhead outside of the bus. Their brows wrinkled in confusion when they noticed that you were with him, but as he pulled out a lighter with his free hand, they quickly disregarded your presence. It was clear that he was the one in charge here.
"Ready? Okay!" The redhead held the lighter close to the gas on the steps. You twisted around in his arms and hid your face in his chest, not wanting to see the moment the gas caught fire.
"Don't worry, princess," his voice cooed right in your ear. "You get a front row seat to the light show!"
You whimpered in response. "Please, don't do this!"
He ignored you and continued to flick the lighter. When it still didn’t light, he huffed in frustration and looked at his friends. "This is so embarrassing," he muttered under his breath. He looked over at the bus. "Does anyone got a light?" He was met with screams in reply.
"I do!" a voice behind you said eagerly.
You spun around as the redhead did, and you saw that the voice had come from one of the members of the group, a man shorter than all the rest with a small stature and close-cropped hair that curled around his ears. He dug the lighter out of his pocket and held it out to him. There was a light in his eyes, like he was eager to please.
Just as the redhead was about to take the lighter from him, the wail of sirens caught their attention.
You turned your head to see three cars swerve into the parking lot and skid to a stop. Two of them were police cars, and you couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope ignite inside of you. The sound of car doors slamming shut resounded in the lot as policemen got out of their vehicles, guns drawn.
"Stand your ground, boys.” The redhead’s lips curled into a smile as he and his friends got out guns of their own. “They can't shoot at the bus."
With that, all hell broke loose.
It was like open season as they shot at the cops, bullets ricocheting off of the cars’ metal exteriors and shattering the glass in the windows. The opposition could do nothing but watch, dodging bullets where they could.
“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" you heard a voice amongst the policemen shout.
You watched in horror as one man got hit in the chest and crumpled to the ground. You yelped and receded further into the redhead’s grip for protection.
"Aaron, Greenwood, go get the truck started,” the redhead instructed the curly-haired man and the last member of the group you had neglected to notice. He was tall, bald, and well-built, the features of his face set into a grim expression. “We're gonna blow this barbecue!"
The two men nodded firmly and hurried off. The redhead turned to address the smaller man from before but noticed a detective sneaking closer to the bus. He whipped around and aimed his gun at him. The detective ducked behind the car just in time to avoid the shot.
The redhead fired again and again until he pulled the trigger and nothing happened but a dull, hollow click. He clenched his jaw and dropped the empty gun to the ground. Twirling a finger in the air, he commanded, "Light 'em up!"
He retreated to the truck, dragging you with him. You kicked your legs in the air and released an ear-splitting scream from your throat. He picked up the hose and sprayed more gasoline at the bus, laughing that same eerie, hysterical laugh. It was rough and low, like it was stuck in his throat and resonating from his chest.
He grabbed onto the side of the truck as it drove away, leaving the smaller man behind to set the bus on fire. He banged the hose against the truck, his face contorted in an expression of perverse glee.
Once they were far enough away from the bus, the redhead yanked open the door to the truck and slid inside. You latched onto the frame of the open door and pulled against his arm around your waist. "Let go of me, you monster!"
He ripped you away from the frame and closed the door behind you. He easily maneuvered you like a doll so you were in between his body and the curly-haired man’s. You found yourself awkwardly squished between them in the cramped cab, along with the bald man who was driving the truck.
"This one's feisty," the redhead chuckled. "Greenwood, hand me some rope."
The curly-haired man did as he was told, and the redhead wrapped rope around your wrists and ankles, tying them in strong knots. "Let's hope you don't get out of these like you did with those handcuffs."
The curly-haired man leered at you, looking you up and down like you were something to eat. "Who's this?" His mouth twisted into a demented smile, and he placed his hand on your knee. You writhed, trying to get away from him, although you knew it was of no use with your hands and feet bound together.
The redhead slapped his hand off of your leg. The look on his face was oddly serious. "Touch her again, and I'll cut off your hand.” An animalistic growl rumbled deep in his chest.
Fear was evident in the curly-haired man’s eyes, but he played it off, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat.
You stared straight out the windshield, silently praying that you didn’t see a column of thick, black smoke rising into the sky. Your chin wobbled as you thought about your friends roasting alive, flames licking and devouring their skin as they screamed in agony. You imagined the stench of burning flesh permeating the air. A small tear escaped from the corner of your eye and rolled down your cheek. You hoped the policemen had found a way to stop the smaller man from lighting the bus in flames in time.
Suddenly, the redhead gasped, drawing your attention to him, and he brought his hand up to the fresh bite mark on his neck. He pulled his hand away and stared at the ruby red blood sticky like syrup coating his skin.
"I hope I'll get to bite you too, princess.” He smirked. "I'm Jerome. What's your name?"
You didn’t answer; instead, you spat at him.
Your saliva landed directly on his cheek. He flinched and wiped at it with his bloodied hand. He stared at the combination of his blood and your spit on his fingers almost as if he were mesmerized before sticking them in his mouth. He stared straight into your eye as he sucked on his fingers, moaning sensually.
You grimaced, recoiling in disgust. He removed his fingers from his mouth and laughed at your reaction. “You want a taste?” He held his hand out to you as if he was offering you a lick of his ice cream cone.
"You're disgusting," you hissed.
He cackled again, and the sound rattled your bones. "What's your name, princess?"
You narrowed your eyes at him. He stared at you until you eventually gave in and gave him your name.
He repeated it as if he was tasting it on his tongue. Then, he hummed thoughtfully. "I think I like princess better."
-
What felt like a very long car ride later, you found yourself in the middle of the Maniax’s secret lair. It was not what you had expected at all, not in the slightest. Instead of a dark, dingy cave or abandoned warehouse, the domestic terrorists resided in an upscale penthouse that was lavishly furnished and overlooked a beautiful view of the Gotham City skyline. Who knew insane asylum patients had such good taste in home decor?
You were greeted by two people when you got there: the first, a man dressed in an expensive, tailored suit with slicked-back, raven hair; and the second, a woman wielding a scary-looking whip wearing a black leather jumpsuit, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Neither of them looked happy to see you.
"We're back!" Jerome singsonged, skipping into the room and dragging you along behind him. He had undid the rope around your wrists and ankles, but his hand on your arm was heavy like a ball and chain.
"And unsuccessful.” A scowl settled over the mysterious man’s features. "After you fled the scene, Detective James Gordon knocked out Dobkins and moved the bus before any flames could catch. We had to assassinate Dobkins before he could expose us."
You released a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding at hearing that your friends were alright, your eyes fluttering closed. Even though you were at the mercy of these maniacs, the knowledge that your friends were safe gave you the smallest sense of relief.
Beside you, Jerome’s jaw clenched, and his free hand curled into a fist, nails digging into his palm. “I should’ve killed that idiot myself," he seethed.
"Who's this?" You opened your eyes to find the mysterious man’s on you. The weight of his gaze was heavy, as if he could see straight through you. If Jerome was a demon, this man was surely the devil.
"This," Jerome slung an arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his side, "is my girl, princess." He beamed like he was bringing a girl home to meet his parents for the first time.
The mysterious man’s frown deepened. "Jerome, you can't just go kidnapping innocent girls whenever you feel like it.”
"Oh, she's not innocent.” He chuckled and pointed to the bite mark on his neck. It was starting to scab over but still stood out like a brand on his ivory skin.
The mysterious man looked at the woman next to him brandishing the whip like they were communicating telepathically. The woman turned to you, and with a flick of her wrist, the leather of her whip was coiled around your throat.
Your eyes went wide, and your lips fell open, but no air passed between them. Your hands automatically shot up to grip onto the whip, but it slipped between your fingers like the scales of a snake. She tugged on the other end of the whip, and you were yanked out of Jerome’s arms. The whip constricted around your throat, and a squeak escaped your lips as you fought to breathe.
A look of pure, unadulterated panic came over Jerome’s face. "Stop!" He froze for a second, unsure of what to do, until in a split second decision he reached for the bald man’s gun. He snatched it from him and pressed the barrel against his head. "If she goes, I go. And you need me.”
You watched the mysterious man’s countenance slowly crumble as his gaze flickered back and forth between you and Jerome, questioning just how valuable he was to this little team.
"I swear to God, I'll do it," Jerome threatened and cocked the gun for extra emphasis. His tone was even, and his hand was steady.
Your hearing grew muffled, and your lungs burned from a lack of air, collapsing in on themselves like a house of cards. The mysterious man gave the woman another meaningful look. She hesitated, but just as gray spots started to dance across your vision, she retracted the whip. Without the whip to hold you up, you fell forward, but before you could hit the ground, Jerome caught you in his arms.
You heard the gun clatter on the ground next to you; Jerome must’ve dropped it in order to catch you. Your throat felt impossibly dry and sore as you gasped for air. You coughed and wheezed, tears springing in the corners of your eyes.
You felt Jerome raking his hands through your hair. You wanted to push him away, but you were too weak. “It’s okay, princess. I’ve got you,” he assured you.
The woman with the whip glared at the mysterious man. He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Let the boy have his fun. Maybe he’ll be more focused when he’s gotten it out of his system.” He shifted his gaze to Jerome. “If she gets in the way, I won’t tell her to stop next time.”
He walked away, the soles of his dress shoes slapping against the tile. The woman with the whip shot you and Jerome on the floor one last scalding glance before she followed after him.
Jerome watched them go with something akin to madness tainting his gaze, but it all melted away when he looked at you. He kneeled at your side and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Are you alright, princess?”
When you managed to recover somewhat and regain your breath, you swatted at his hand in your hair. “Don’t touch me.” Your voice was too hoarse, and what you meant to be a firm protest came out more like a whimper from a kicked dog.
The look of concern on his face disappeared at your words, and a grin took its place. “Sounds like you’re just fine.”
He jumped to his feet and grabbed your hands, roughly pulling you off the floor. In one fluid motion, he threw you over his shoulder again. “Princess and I are going to be spending some much needed bonding time together.” He started in the direction of the stairs. “Don’t disturb us!”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” you heard a voice laced with sarcasm say. You looked up to meet eyes with a woman who had curly, blonde hair. She wrinkled her nose at you as Jerome passed by her.
You didn’t bother retaliating this time around as he carried you up the stairs. All the energy had been sucked out of you from your earlier escape attempts and near death experience. He walked down a hallway and kicked one of the doors open. He stepped inside, and only when you heard the lock turn on the closed door behind you did he finally put you down.
You righted yourself and stepped out of his grasp, choosing to observe the room instead. It was rather plain, the only pieces of furniture a queen-sized bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. The walls were bare, and there were no decorations to bring life into the dull room, nothing to make it seem like a place someone actually resided in, like whoever slept here was only doing so temporarily.
"Welcome to my humble abode!" Jerome spread his arms out wide and gestured to the room. "It's no Palace of Versailles, but it's a lot better than the trailer at the circus or a cell in Arkham."
So this was where you were to be held captive during your stay here, however long that may be. It suddenly became apparent to you that there was no guarantee that you would live long. It was only a matter of time before Jerome grew bored of playing with you and disposed of you like an old toy or those two people downstairs thought you too much a liability. Your thoughts quickly drifted to your friends and your family. You wondered if they had started searching for you, although you knew whether or not they did, there was no way they’d be able to find you. At least, not alive.
You wrapped your arms around yourself as Jerome circled you like a shark who smelled blood in the water, the look in his eyes scarily intense. “I want you to tell me what you’re thinking, princess.”
It was hard to look him in the eye. “Who were those people downstairs?”
He quirked a brow. “You mean Tabitha and Theo?” Figuring that's who they were, you nodded. “Our benefactors and generous hosts. They’re the ones who broke us out of Arkham.”
So that explains the fancy penthouse. Although, you wondered what two clearly wealthy and established yet inarguably unhinged people like them had in store for the inmates and, most of all, where you fit into it all.
“But I know that’s not what you really wanted to ask me.” His pace was relentless, circling around and around like a never ending spiral. “What’s been on your mind since you first got here.”
You did have a burning question on your mind, a question that had been nagging at you for a while, but you hadn’t been able to voice it out loud. Mostly because you were scared of the answer.
“Why me?” Your voice sounded so small. “Why take me in the first place?” He could’ve killed you a long time ago for disobeying his orders, and yet he chose time and time again to keep you around.
He laughed as if you had said something funny. He stopped in front of you. “Because, princess,” he reached out to caress your cheek, and you flinched as his hand made contact with your skin, “there’s a spark inside of you. You’re brave and fearless.” He swiped his thumb across your cheekbone almost tenderly. “I admire that about you.”
Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. In a momentary burst of rage, you pressed your hands against his chest and shoved him back as far as you could (which wasn’t very far). “Fuck you!” Your voice resonated off of the empty walls.
He barely stumbled back a step, unfazed by your anger. “Only if you’ll do the honors.” He winked smoothly.
You raised your arms to strike at him again, but before you could even get one blow in, his hands wrapped around your wrists like handcuffs. He guided you backwards until the backs of your knees met the bed. But he didn’t stop there. Your eyes went wide as your back met the mattress and he landed on top of you. Any strength you had left was gone, and his weight on top of you knocked the wind out of you.
He pinned your hands above your head, his face inches from yours. “None of that.” The tip of his nose brushed against yours. “Or do I have to remind you that your life is in my hands now?”
You blinked back tears. “Please,” you whispered, your voice shaky.
He shushed you, his eyes fluttering closed before closing the gap between your lips. The kiss was surprisingly soft and gentle. He moved his lips against yours, although you remained immobile like stone. You briefly contemplated kneeing him in the groin, but you didn’t want to push him past the point of inflicting pain on you.
As if he knew what you were thinking, he kneed your legs open and pinned your thighs down with his knees. He adjusted so he was holding your wrists in one hand, his other hand going to rest on your jaw. It moved down your neck, over your collarbone, to grope your breast through your uniform. You gasped, and he seized the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. His thumb brushed over your nipple, massaging it into a stiffened peak.
He rolled his hips against yours, groaning into your mouth. You felt his hard length straining against the confines of his pants press against you, and it was like alarm bells went off in your head. His hand on your breast moved down to flip up the skirt of your uniform, baring your lacy panties to him.
He disconnected your lips to admire them. “A little scandalous for a cheerleader, don’t you think?” His fingers ghosted over your clothed core, and your hips involuntarily bucked against his hand. “Unless you were wearing them for someone?”
There was a jealous glint in his eye as he stared down at you, rubbing your folds through your underwear. All you could respond with, however, was “Stop.”
He sighed. “It’s always the same: ‘get away from me, let go, don’t touch me.’ But I know what you really want.”
He slipped his fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear and pressed them between your folds. You took a sharp intake of breath; his fingers were cold against your hot flesh. He spread your lips, and you heard the telltale sound of your arousal as he spread your wetness around your slit.
He bummed in contentment. “Just as I thought: you’re soaking wet.” He kissed your neck, and you could feel his cocky smile against your skin. He looked up at you. “Is all this for me?”
You didn’t dignify him with an answer. You tried to close your legs, but it was impossible with his knees holding you down. He gathered the wetness leaking out of your entrance before pressing his fingers into you. You hissed at the intrusion as he stretched you open.
“Although, maybe it would be fun to watch you fight back.” He smirked. “I can tell you want to.” He moved so his face took up your entire field of vision. “Go on. Give it your best shot.”
Your muscles seized up, unsure if this was a trap or not. Meanwhile, his fingers continued to move inside of you, in and out, in and out until you grew accustomed to the size of his thick fingers.
“Or maybe you’re enjoying it too much to try and stop me,” he teased you.
You knew he was pressing your buttons on purpose, trying to get a rise out of you, but it didn’t stop you from reacting. With both your hands and legs secured, it left you with a limited amount of options. But you took your chances anyway and, as fast as you could, smashed your forehead into his nose.
He grunted and reeled back. You felt something wet hit your face, and when he looked back down at you, you saw blood dripping from his nose. You wondered if you had broken it or not. Despite the injury you had caused him, the grin on his face was wider than ever.
“That was a good try.” He cackled. “Now, it’s my turn.”
He leaned down and sank his teeth into your neck.
A scream was ripped from your throat as a white hot, burning pain spread from your neck to your nerve endings. You felt the skin snap under the pressure of his teeth. He held you there, like you were a dead bird caught in the jaws of a lion. It felt like he was trying to tear your throat out.
He retracted from you, licking your blood from his teeth. “Now we’re even.”
His thumb flicked at your clit, and you yelped. He started tracing gentle circles over the sensitive nub while his fingers still thrust into you. You lifted your head (ignoring the shooting pain in your neck) just enough to watch his pale fingers disappear in and out of you again and again. He twisted his wrist slightly as he pulled them out almost all the way only to plunge them back in. You clamped down on the appendages violating you.
“You must not hate it that much with the way you’re strangling my fingers,” he gloated.
You thought back to the living room when you had the whip wrapped around your throat, slowly but surely squeezing the life out of you. Surely that tightness had been more bearable and less mortifying. Part of you wished the mysterious man hadn’t told her to stop just to spare you from this torture.
You wanted to shoot him a glare, but he curled his fingers so they brushed against your inner walls, and a pathetic mewl fell from your lips instead. You collapsed back against the bed, failing to bite back your moans as you let the pleasure consume you. You felt that familiar tightening in your gut and cursed yourself for reacting to him this way. Warmth spread from your core to your fingertips, and your toes curled as your orgasm hit you.
Your pussy fluttered around his fingers, and Jerome leaned down to kiss you. You could taste your blood on his tongue mingling with the blood still oozing from his nose. He didn’t stop fingering you through your high. He didn’t even stop fingering you after your head came down from the clouds, still mercilessly stroking your clit. It wasn’t until you whined from the oversensitivity did he laugh and have the decency to remove his hand from you.
He let go of your hands and moved off of your thighs, but you were too worn out from your orgasm to move. He kneeled on the bed next to you and stared at his fingers glistening with your juices. He stuck them in his mouth and slurped it off, moaning as he did so.
You had enough strength to turn your head away from him. A cold hand on your jaw forced you to look back at him. His face was startlingly close to yours.
“You’re mine, my princess.” He traced the bite on your neck with the pad of his finger, and you cried out at the twinge of pain that shot through you as a result. “And now everyone will know it.”
You stared up at him, eyes glassy, the only thought in your mind that you were in deep, deep trouble.
-
Masterlist | Ko-fi
Tags: @ckatattack @bamposworld @verysleepy1
#Gotham#gotham fanfic#gotham imagine#gotham fanfiction#jerome valeska#jerome valeska imagine#jerome valeska x reader#jerome valeska x you#dark!fic#fanfiction#fanfic#self insert
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@mobscene-starters
Shopping was one of Peyton’s favorite things, but shopping for Halloween costumes only made it even more fun. She was still debating what she was going to go as, if she was going to buy an actual costume or if she would create a closet cosplay. Part of Peyton was leaning towards Disney but as she was going through the sale rack (because any time she was in a high end store she almost immediately went to the sales rack - she didn’t want to spend all her money on only one outfit) she bumped into someone. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she immediately apologized, taking a few steps back, “Sometimes I get so into shopping I forget to check if people are around me.”
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