#okay maybe it is a little bit too close to the entrance of las nevadas

[kiridarling]

𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐎.

thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate in her vice city collab! i had a blast writing this piece, and i’m terribly sorry this is so long that was a mistake (and congrats on 2k!!) also, the phattest of thank you’s to @eijishimas for brainstorming/beta-ing :) you saved me ☺🤲🏼

katsuki bakugou and eijirou kirishima | f!reader, time travel sex, guns, prostitute/stripper idrk!reader, tw!blood (non-descriptive), dacryphilia, squirting, spit roasting, d-penn, shower sex, multiple rounds. minors dni!

— 5k words (yikes)

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

Las Vegas, Nevada. April 15th, Year 3036.

"You ready?"

Mina shoots you a look through the golden-lit mirror, wiggling her eyebrows. You roll your eyes and finish dusting the powder off your cheeks before rising to your feet and tugging at the belt of your silk robe. "My answer's the same every night."

Vice City. A strip club and casino in Las Vegas, Nevada, where opposites collide—the poor and the rich, the beautiful and the ugly, the smart and the stupid. There's no judgment because here, they're all degenerates looking for a good time, and you're just a pretty face with a good body.

As your silk robe hits the floor, it's kicked to the side with a heel, and you saunter through the beaded entrance to your private room and into the vibrating club. Giving your bodyguard a solid pat on the shoulder as you watch the sea of bodies shake, you complete the ritual.

"No creeps?" You demand more than request. He nods curtly.

"No creeps."

You give him a cute little smile and let your hand linger for a little longer than necessary before stepping into the neon red chaos of the strip club. Because what do the rich and the poor have in common?

They're all addicts.

Surprisingly, humanity doesn’t kill the planet.

Mother Nature's still standing strong—though the sun is a bit swollen—and space exploration solved that overpopulation issue. Bill Gates taught us all how to avoid a climate disaster and Tesla put Ford out of business. Humanity is much bigger than earth now; we're no longer people of the planet, but an intergalactic species that still eat Costco pizza rolls for dinner but killed Cable along with cars with wheels. Costco still exists—Starbucks doesn't.

Still no aliens, though.

"See something you like, Cutie?"

In your defense, he's been standing over here with his friends for ages—almost like they're casing the damn place—but those ruby red eyes kept floating your way regardless, and you'd rather bag it with someone your age before you're requested by another seventy-year-old. The redhead blinks like he's shocked you came over here in the first place—like he didn't watch you sashay yourself to the other side of the club just for him. You suppose the name fits. Cutie.

He looks at you with a strangely giddy look on his face before he's licking his lips and swallowing, eyes flickering to the blondie to his right.

"I'll be back in like, twenty minutes, man."

The blond gives him an exasperated look and groans—his other two friends don't notice. "Eiji—"

"Twenty minutes!" The redhead yells over the music as you not-so-subtly pull him away. Your regular GILF looks your way, and you suppress the queasy feeling in knowing that at least you'll be able to fuck someone from your decade.

"You got a wallet, Cutie?" You purr as you two approach the back room. The redhead winks, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the fattest black leather wallet you've seen in a long time.

"Don't go anywhere without it," he says, but falters when your bodyguard holds his hand out with a request for fifty bucks. "I—whoa dude, why am I paying you?"

"Because that's how it goes. The young lady gets her share," your bodyguard clarifies. The redhead looks at you for what seems to be for confirmation. You nod.

"Alright," he resigns with a shrug, stuffing a fifty into your bodyguard's sweaty hand. The man grunts but clears some of the beads guarding the entrance to your private room anyways, giving you two enough space to go inside.

"No door? That seems a little...exposing," the redhead snorts to himself before he's holding his hand out, despite the fact that you’re already nestling comfortably in his lap. "Eijirou, by the way."

You take his hand apprehensively, and he snorts at your confused frown. Eijirou's big—painfully so, and you feel small sat upon his thick thighs because you are in comparison—and he has to curve his back a bit so you're at eye-level. "What? No one's introduced themselves to you before?"

You shake your head, "Usually they just throw me onto the bed and get right to it."

Eijirou rolls his eyes at that, and you don't realize he's guiding your hips into a smooth roll until the harsh fabric of his jeans brushes against you in the best way. He moves you in time with the music vibrating the walls, "I guess that makes me more of a gentleman, then."

His lips hover over yours and yet he never advances, doesn't move to kiss you on the lips, nothing—it nearly has you buzzing. So does the hand he pins you to his lap with. "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

"What's your name, Sweetheart," he asks lowly. You give it to him, and he grins.

"Y/N,” Eijirou tries on his lips before he confirms it with a nod. "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Aren't you the flatterer," you purr, coiling your arms around your neck. His hand finds your ass and you're almost positive he's going to close the gap between you two until he says:

"Who were you runnin' from, Y/N?”

Years in the business help build a mask and you wear yours well, with that cute little smile as you cock your head to the side and ask, "I'm afraid I'm not following."

"Oh, I think you are," he says, looking you dead in the eyes. The gravity in his face doesn't falter. "Who was it."

As he stares into your soul, your own eyes avert to the sheets. "What's it to you?"

"It's nothing to me, really," he shrugs off his jacket and places it on the bed next to him before returning to his initial position—or perhaps, closer. "But I happen to find you real cute, and cute things deserve to feel safe, no?"

"In case you haven't checked, this isn't a very safe place," you scoff, removing your arms from his neck to cross them over your chest. "And I don't appreciate idiots like you trying to save someone like me just 'cause you wanna get your dick wet more than once."

Eijirou raises an eyebrow but he never stalls, "Oh? This happens often then?"

"I—" you falter, "...No."

"C'mon, Sweetheart," Eijirou tugs you by the waist and you have to press your hands to his chest to keep him from falling forwards. "You don't wanna stay in this place, do you?"

"It's my job," you defend with a huff. The redhead shrugs.

"Sure, but don't you want a little adventure? A little excitement in your life?"

"Like there isn't enough excitement right here?" You snort. Eijirou teeters his head back and forth, though the daring look never fades.

"But something tells me you're bored," he says with a near sarcastic face, clicking his tongue. "Something tells me you find the idea of something new exciting."

You open your mouth to respond but he keeps you from doing so, finally pressing his lips to yours. You nearly squeal in surprise but somehow, you find yourself kissing back with a passion you've never kissed another client with before—and maybe, just maybe, the idea of something new doesn't sound too bad.

Eijirou pulls away with a cocky grin like he knew you'd like it. Like he knew that'd be the catalyst for your response to what he says next, and maybe, he's not as much of an idiot as you thought.

And maybe you’re more of an idiot than you thought.

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

"Yes," you breathe, like an idiot, because you were wholly and utterly unprepared for what happens next.

Eijirou gives you the cutest smile, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun.

He sees your expression change and lifts both hands, pointing the black pistol towards the ceiling, "I—hey wait, you're gonna be fine, okay? I won't shoot you."

You cower and he pouts. Apparently, this wasn't the reaction he was expecting at all.

"I swear! I'm mentally stable, see?" He flips it sideways with a grin, "the safety's on."

You hate it that his comment makes you trust him. Slightly.

"C'mon," Eijirou smiles, reaching his gunless hand out for you to take. You do, albeit reluctantly. "I won't do anything too stupid. Just...shake things up a bit."

Shake things up a bit, Eijirou says, and yet the first thing he does is when you two exit the room is press the pistol to your bodyguard’s head.

"Eijirou," you hiss. Luckily no one in the club has noticed, yet, but you doubt their ignorance will last for long.

"I'm gonna need my fifty back, buddy," Eijirou pats the man on the back, and it's strange—you've always thought your bodyguard to be a big guy, but he looks rather petite next to the redhead. Your bodyguard reaches for his walkie-talkie, but Eijirou tuts, tapping his hand away with the tip of his gun.

"Hey dude, I'm not gonna shoot you. See? The safety's on," He repeats, flashing the barrel. Your bodyguard's eyes widen, and so do yours.

The safety isn't on.

"So, that fifty," Eijirou purrs, and your bodyguard stuffs the bill into his chest with a grumble. Eijirou hums, satisfied, and gives the crumpled bill to you without a second glance, too busy nodding to his friend on the other side of the strip club. A noirette from across the way nods back.

Pop-pop!

It's fucking chaos, as anyone would expect when blindly firing into a crowded club. Eijirou keeps a tight hold on your hand as he and his other three boys storm towards the pit bosses working the casinos with guns a-blazing, demanding they fill their pillowcases like a bunch of C-class thugs.

What the fuck did you get yourself into.

"This is not what I meant by excitement," you hiss through grit teeth as a terrified pit boss fills Eijirou's bag like he's a greedy kid with an attitude on Halloween, while your co-workers cower under the bar and pool tables. Eijirou sticks his tongue your way.

"This isn't the exciting part, Little Miss Excitement."

It's the steady sound of sirens that has your eyes widening, and the fact that you're positive they're getting louder. You catch sight of your bodyguard on his walkie-talkie, big body cowering behind the smallest trashcan, and turn back just in time to see Eijirou squint as he aims and shoots bullseye.

"That is."

The police have lost sight of two vehicles carrying the four armed men who robbed Vice City Casino and Club tonight at roughly 2:53 am. Witnesses say they came in a group of four but left with an exotic dancer named—

The moment the blondie from the club sees you walk through the door, he’s tossing the stack of bills in his hand with a sigh.

"Katsuki, Y/N. Y/N, Katsuki."

Katsuki looks nothing but happy, and refuses to acknowledge your presence as he crosses his arms.

"Ei. What the hell did we say about witnesses."

"Um," the redhead rubs his lips together before wearily looking at you, and you hike his jacket further up your shoulder. At least he was decent enough to give you that. She's an exception?"

"Not a fuckin' thing," the blond grunts, turning to you to flash a tight smile. "Goodbye."

"I—wait," Eijirou skates until he's stood over the ash-blond, with a hand on his shoulder and the other braced against the table. Speaking in a quieter voice, he says, "C'mon man. The poor thing was practically begging to get outta there."

The ash-blond does nothing but sigh before shoving a palm into a pile of money to push himself into the kitchen—and subsequently further away from you.

"She's gonna call the cops," Katsuki grunts wearily from the island, eyes narrowed. Eijirou follows.

"She's not gonna call the cops, dude," the redhead scoffs at the outlandish idea. "You heard the radio! At this point, she's as deep in it as we are."

As they continue to go back and forth over the island, you let your eyes wander. It’s a penthouse, and rather homely, with near egg yolk lighting, high walls, and big windows. You can't help but think about how you're in a strangely expensive part of the city before remembering this evening's events. No wonder they can afford such a nice place.

You find yourself smiling at a particular corner with a frustrating amount of photos stuffed on a little glass table, one that contains a selfie of the two housemates in high school uniforms. There's a ring sat in front of it, one that glints gold when you hold it up to your face, and if you squint you can see little flecks of green in the red of the ruby. It looks scarily close to an engagement ring.

"Hey, what's this?"

Both of their eyes rocket from the conversation to see you slip the delicate thing onto your ring finger.

"Don't touch it!" Eijirou tenses before realizing it's much too late for that. "Er—at least don't twist the top."

"The...top?" You ask, lifting your hand until it's at eye level.

"Yeah like, the jewel thingy," the redhead gestures to the ruby—and you can't stop thinking about how it's almost the same color as his hair. Waddling into the kitchen with your eye still trained on the thing, you ask:

"What is it?"

"A time-travel device," the ash-blond grunts. Eyes still full of suspicion, he watches you and the redhead interact over the island with arms crossed over his chest and reclining against the sink. You frown.

"Aren't those usually...bigger?" Because even though it's 3036, time-travel is still fairly new (space exploration took a long time, okay) and all the machines you've seen are at least the size of a shower. And yet, this one can sit on your pinky.

"Kats has been working on some stuff," Eijirou beams and it edges on proud; you notice the ash-blond near blushes with a huff as you hop to sit on the marble counter.

"'S nothin'."

You stare at the thing in faint amazement, and Katsuki kicks off the sink to near the island. Lifting an eyebrow, you say, "You know you could get rich off something like this? Instead of robbing strip clubs for a living.”

The ash-blond scoffs, and you wonder if someone else has told him that before. "If I gave that to the public, I have no fuckin' clue what they'd do with that shit."

And you shrug, supposing he's right—time-travel devices are hard to get your hands on, and that's for a reason. If everyone starts jumping around in the time-space continuum, fucking with shit, the world will promptly and utterly collapse. Sounds fun, doesn't it?

"It doesn't work with a big time range," Katsuki defends with a shrug, sliding his forearms on the counter. "The most it can do is a few hours"

"Not that it makes this any less cool," Eijirou says with a slight bounce. "I personally think it's really fun to play with."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "That's 'cause you use it to fuck."

You nearly choke.

"I—what?"

"W-Well, okay," Eijirou chuckles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "But also other stuff! Like when I'm really hungry, I might go to the future and take some of my fries. Future me's fries, that is."

"Or you'll try to take future-me’s goddamn burger," Katsuki growls. You flip the ring over like there's anything left to see.

"How often do you use it?"

"Nightly," Katsuki answers for him. Your eyebrows lift. Oh wow.

"It—it's not nightly," Eijirou defends weakly, huffing and puffing. "Weekly maybe, but—"

"Almost every night," Katsuki sums for him, giving you a little grin. You snort back before your eyes drop to the ring again.

"Uh oh," the redhead almost gasps, fingers thrumming on the island on either side of your being, "She's thinkin' about it."

"I'm not thinking about it," you huff, though your eyes never leave the ring. It's an...interesting prospect.

"Oh, you're totally thinking about it," Katsuki grunts, and you struggle to find where his enthusiasm came from. What happened to goodbye?

"C'mon," Eijirou tempts with a casual toss of the head. He touches your shoulder—Katsuki touches the other. "See what happens."

"What if—" you stare at the ring with pursed lips, fingers grabbing the ruby. "What if it's random? Or if we're not where we expect to be in a few hours or something."

Eijirou shrugs. "It's always a gamble, but that's where the fun is, no?"

You look down at the thing with a sigh. You suppose.

In one quick move, you twist the gem and screw your eyes shut. At first, you feel nothing, but then there's a sudden head rush, and you can easily see how someone can get addicted to this.

You hear a faint sound, one that could be excused as a rush of wind past your ears, before you feel your knees against a hard surface and your body in a different position.

"Oh, I like this much better."

You open to your eyes to a much different sight than you closed them to.

Katsuki and Eijirou look gargantuan when you’re on your knees, your back flush against the refrigerator and eyes watering due to the cock nestled halfway down your throat. You choke in surprise from the sensation, hands rushing to keep Katsuki from cutting your oxygen supply off for good as Eijirou stands impatient, cock hard in his hand and drooling for attention.

"F-Fuck," the ash-blond wheezes, seemingly just as taken aback from the position as you are. "Your mouth is fuckin' heaven."

"C'mon Sweetheart, don't ignore me now," EIjirou purrs, chuckling as the head of his cock hits your cheek with a wet slap. "At least give me a little something."

You grab his cock harder than you would've out of slight indignance, grinning around the other when it makes him hiss; Eijirou joins Katsuki in resting a hand on the fridge door for purchase.

You weren't the best at Vice City for nothing, after all.

"Shit, loosen that grip a little, will ya?" Eijirou wheezes—you don't listen, and his chest shudders when you seem to only move faster.

"'M too fuckin' close, where's that ring," Katsuki blabbers more than he grunts, and you lift your hand just in time for him to twist the jewel again, sending you three rocketing into the past.

You cough and splutter atop the kitchen island, chest heaving as you finally get the air Katsuki's cock allows. The head rush definitely doesn't help, and you find yourself getting dizzy enough to grab for someone's hand.

"Breathe, Princess," Katsuki says, and Eijirou lifts your hand to his chest so yours can rise and fall with his.

"So that's," you wheeze once you're able to get some semblance of a breath back. "That's time travel sex, huh?"

"Yeah," Eijirou says, a little breathless himself. "Addictive, right?"

"A little," you giggle, and find yourself looking for the ring again. Katsuki snorts.

"What, you wanna go back or somethin'?"

You flush red, eyes darting to the walls guilty, "A little bi—wah!"

There's a rush and the room morphs again. You would’ve fallen headfirst into a set of white sheets if it weren’t for the fact that you’re sat on Eijirou’s face.

"Hello beautiful~" the redhead singsongs from below, and you can't help but notice your bra is MIA as Katsuki takes a seat behind

you to run his hands up your sides to put the underside of your breasts.

"Pervert," you snort, though you figure you’re just as bad as he is with two of Eijirou's fingers deep in your pussy and Katsuki's hand on your clit. The redhead's leaving hickey after hickey on your inner thighs and you just try your damnest to not fall.

"Only for you," Eijirou winks cheekily, scissoring his fingers, and your hips stutter against his face when he slides his tongue in between.

"Fuckin' love the sounds you make," Katsuki grunts, before his other hand finds your neck and tightens. "And fuck you're so goddamn wet—you love this, don't you?"

You keen with a nod (and suppress the urge to say no shit, Sherlock), and Katsuki's pinching your clit between his two fingers, licking a fat stripe up your neck and chuckling when you shiver.

"What, your clients don't make you feel this good, Sweetheart?" Eijirou practically moans into your cunt, eyebrows folding when you thread your fingers through his hair and yank. "Bet that fifty was worth it, wasn't it?"

"Y-Yeah I—" you whimper, unable to get a sentence past your shuddering chest. "Guys, I'm gonna—"

The bedroom melts back into the kitchen, you're back in Eijirou’s jacket and not sat on his face. Your thighs and neck are hickey-less and yet, you're still so fucking horny.

"I hate you," you seethe, almost immediately, and Eijirou's grin is so wide it bends his eyes.

"Awe, you love me," he giggles and your frown only deepens as you reach for the ring—Katsuki snatches it out of arms way with a tut.

"Ah ah Princess, don't be greedy now," he purrs, but you couldn't give a shit about being greedy, and it shows in the way you quickly grab for it again. Katsuki passes the ring to Eijirou and it easily becomes a game of monkey in the middle.

"Give it—"

"I don't think so, Sweetheart," Eijirou says, pressing a big hand to your face to keep you from going any further. With a smirk, the redhead twists the ring, and suddenly you're full of him on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight," he curses behind grit teeth, sweat practically dripping off his shoulders in rivulets as he pushes your face into the kitchen island so hard it's numb. So are your knees. "You're so pretty like this—shit—"

You barely have the room to whimper, let alone answer, and you find Katsuki perched on the opposite counter, weeping cock in hand. The redhead chuckles as you struggle to take all of him, hips squirming as he aims for places you've never been able to hit on your own. "I'd stick your tongue back in your mouth if I were you, Sweetheart. The money’s a little dirty, don't you think?"

And that's when you realize your knees are elevated upon two stacks of green, possibly some of what Katsuki had been counting earlier, and a twenty swims in a pool of drool under your cheek.

"Oh, but I don't think you care," Eijirou grunts, shoving your face deeper into the marble countertop as his hips speed up. "Dirty fuckin' girl. Bet you'd do anything for a fifty."

"I wanna fuck her," Katsuki rushes as if his mouth moves before he can speak. Eijirou wheezes a laugh.

"What, I can't enjoy this?"

"No,” the ash-blond grunts.

"Hmm..." Eijirou debates, though his hips never stop as he gives Katsuki a look and goes, "How about no?"

Katsuki growls at that, and you find your fingers clumsily twisting the ruby on the ring that sits on Eijirou's finger, sending the three of you flinging further into the future.

"Fuck!"

"This isn't the future I was referring to, but I'm not complainin'," Katsuki grunts with a feral grin. You nearly slip due to all the water in the shower and you're positive that you see the sunrise through the window paint Eijirou's skin gold.

"I gotcha, Sweetheart," Eijirou soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your arms while your nails dig into his shoulders, the red lines jagged from how roughly Katsuki fucks you from behind. "Fuck—you're doing so good for us, taking him so well."

You whimper and Katsuki lands a heavy slap on your ass—heavy to the point where you nearly knocks both you and the redhead into the tile behind him. Eijirou's calloused hands find your clit fairly easily, and that's enough to almost send you over the edge, pussy fluttering around Katsuki's cock.

"She's gonna cum," Katsuki grunts. "Can fuckin' feel it."

"Uh oh," the redhead singsongs, turning to you with a grin. "Were you trying to be slick, Sweetheart?”

Though it's difficult, you lift your head, eyes swimming in unshed tears as you choke, "I—n-no, it's jus—"

You're in the bedroom again—this time your back comes in contact with a dresser, metal rattling from the weight Eijirou slams you into it with. The redhead supports you both with two feet planted into the floor and a hand around your waist, grunting into your ear with an exhaustion that implies you've got to be at this for hours.

"Ei-Eiji—"

"I know, Sweetheart," the redhead coos breathlessly, licking up the sweat that runs down your neck. "Just a few more times, okay? Hold on for just a little longer."

You sob, head thunking against the wall as you realize you have no idea where Katsuki is. Though it's only a fleeting thought because before you know it, Eijirou's dropping you to your feet, bending you in half, and railing you into the wall.

"Goddamn," he grunts, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip, "this is—this is the best lay I've had in a fat second."

You pant a laugh, hands pressing into the wall to steady yourself, "Good—good to know the fifty bucks was worth it."

"Oh baby, it was more than worth it," Eijirou hikes your leg up as high as it'll go for a deeper angle and he gets it, his growl melting into a semi-chuckle as you squeal, thighs jumping.

"Fuck Ei!" You scream, and he's tugging your hair to straighten your back out.

"You like it rough, Sweetheart?" He pants into your ear, grabbing your neck for a better grip. You nod as much as you can.

"Y-Yeah—I—" Eijirou drops you until you're stood at a perfect 90-degree angle, "I need—need'ta cum, p-please—"

"Twist the ring, Sweetheart," He pants, resting his hand on the wall next to yours. It still glints gold on his fourth finger in the moonlight, "Get us there together, yeah?"

You don't have to be told twice.

"Mph!"

"Fuck!”

Your knees dig into a mattress again as Katsuki fills your mouth. With his cock down your throat and Eijirou's buried deep in your cunt, there isn't much you can do but take both of them at the same time—though you're positive that's what they intended.

"Shit, me too." Eijirou wheezes a chuckle as his hips piston into you, his sweaty chest sticking to your back while he reaches between your thighs to rub your clit. That’s enough to send you flailing over the edge, moan muffled by Katsuki’s slowly softening cock. Then, with a devilish grin (and before the redhead can cum) Katsuki reaches for the ring on Eijirou’s finger and twists it.

“You asshole,” Eijirou groans, and suddenly you three are back in the shower, with Katsuki’s hips battering into yours as the redhead supports your weight from below. Katsuki chuckles before his grip tightens and he’s filling you with another load.

“C’mon Princess,” Katsuki grunts, reaching for your clit. “Come for us again.”

You choke again before you’re digging your head into Eijirou’s muscled chest with a moan, shaking from the aftershocks Katsuki continues to fuck you through them.

Until the room morphs, and you’re face down on the kitchen counter.

“Fucking finally,” Eijirou wheezes with a bitter chuckle, casually flipping Katsuki the middle finger as he's sat on the opposing counter. “Fuck, you're shaking baby, you gonna cum with me? Yeah?“

Eijirou batters into your cervix and that's the catalyst for your third orgasm. You squeeze so tight you think you may have knocked the wind out of the redhead when his chest crashes into your back, and you open your eyes just in time to see the kitchen melt into the bedroom again—in a time you all have yet to visit.

Your legs are thrown over Katsuki’s shoulders as he pushes your back deeper into Eijirou’s chest, both of their cocks filling you so much and so well it brings tears to your eyes. As your thighs quiver with an impending orgasm, Katsuki’s the first to fall off the edge, eyebrows furrowing as his nails dig into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, voice fucked hoarse and lips bit pink. Eijirou nibbles into your shoulder with a gasp as his sweaty hand finds your clit again, neither of their hips ever stopping.

“Cum for us one more time, Sweetheart,” he pants into your neck before adding another hickey to the collection. Your chest shudders.

“I—I can’t—“

“Oh yes you fuckin’ can,” Katsuki growls, and you squeal as he tweaks a nipple. “I know you got one more in there. Give it.”

Your legs kick against his chest with a curse as you orgasm for the final time—this one much wetter than the last.

“Holy shit,” Eijirou nearly laughs, looking at where the three of you are connected. “Did you just squirt?”

“I—“ your face blends red when you see the absolute and utter mess that sits in Katsuki’s lap, before looking away with a determination to never see it again. “...Maybe.”

“Clean up?” Eijirou asks, eyes flickering to the ash-blond. Katsuki shrugs.

“Nah.”

A rush of wind and you’re sat on the kitchen counter. Eijirou’s jacket protects you from getting goosebumps due to a drop in temperature and though you do shiver, you find your body much more unscathed than it was.

“Hi,” Eijirou chuckles a little breathlessly.

“Hi,” you giggle back, a little nervous but in the best way. “So um...we do all of that tonight?”

“I guess so,” the redhead says a bit cheekily, raising an eyebrow. And then, with a wink, “Probably more.”

You stare at the ring on his hand in awe. Whoa.

"I fuck—fine, we can keep her, Shitty Hair," Katsuki grumbles from his spot near the kitchen sink, and despite the sour look on his face, you can't find a hint of it in his voice. Figures.

"Told you he'd say yes," Eijirou beams with a thumbs up.

"Can we...go do that stuff now?" You ask, albeit a bit hesitantly because...well, usually people are asking to have sex with you. Is this how they feel?

"Of course we can, Sweetheart," the redhead beams, before taking the ring off to place it onto the counter. "It was all a part of the future, after all."

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #— 𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou smut #kirishima smut #tw.blood #tw.guns

[darkeninganon]

(Quackity, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo finally interact in the Ender Family AU! Dream’s design is based on @winifreyd and their White Enderman Dream design! Warning for referenced torture, extreme injuries, forced feeding, mouth trauma, tortured, choking, and cursing. If you spot something else, message me and I will add it and apologize profusely.)

Ranboo fidgeted, dreading this plan. Tommy and Tubbo- okay, no, just Tubbo- had made up this plan the same day Quackity had left the prison with a beautiful... fur coat. A white fur coat. Everyone knew Dream was covered in white fur, and took such great pride in it, he was likely to kill you just for talking about touching it. Well… Technically he had that right because to touch his fur you had to touch him, and he did not like to be touched.

A hand rubbed against his own, drawing Ranboo from his mind. He looked to where the hand came from, finding Tubbo running his finger through Ranboo’s fur. Right, Tubbo liked to feel Ranboo’s fur when he got too nervous. The half enderman looked to Tommy, who was biting his nails. Ranboo pulled up his sleeve, holding his arm out in front of Tommy. The other boy looked at him, incredulous and confused. “Apparently petting me helps people calm down.” The half enderman laughed, dry and nervous.

Tommy hummed, looking back towards the entrance to the entrance of the prison. They were in the portal area, right outside the prison. They all had seen what Dream had become, now they needed to confront one of the people who may have contributed or even allowed it to happen. The trio sat there, waiting as the day passed by, slowly but surely, Tommy and Tubbo getting more and more antsy as Quackity’s arrival was delayed longer and longer.

Finally, the guest of honor had arrived. Quackity turned the corner, freezing as the three teens perked up and locked eyes with him.

“Oh… What… what’re you guys doing here?” Quackity questioned, stepping into the open room. He couldn’t look suspicious to these three. Not now, not when he was so close.

“We were waiting for you.” Tommy huffed, crossing his arms as he struggled to stand up, legs having cramped and fallen asleep hours ago. “We have some questions for you Big Q.”

“Oh, well, what do you want to know?”

“Why the hell are you visiting the prison everyday?”

Quackity stared at Tommy, as if he had never expected anyone to ask that question, ever. “Uh, I’m training to be the next warden. Why else would I be going to the prison?” He laughed, a nervous flicker of his eyes.

“Great, where do you live?” Ranboo stepped in now, rolling Tubbo’s sleeve between his fingers as his platonic husband continued to pet his fur. “We kind of haven’t seen you in like… Forever.”

Quackity nodded. “Yeah, I uh, made a country. Las Nevada. It’s pretty cool.” He fidgeted. He needed to pay Dream his daily visit… Or ask Sam to fill in for him. “Do you guys want to see it?” The three teens nodded, believing the story so far. “Great! Follow me. It’s pretty far.” Quackity smiled, walking off with the three boys in tow. Sam looked out from the cameras, breathing a sigh as the group left. He could only hope Quackity wouldn't want to show off his trophies.

Sam jumped as his communicator went off. A message from Quackity: I'm trusting you to convince Dream today. Sorry to put this on you so suddenly. Sam sighed, his grip growing tighter. He... He had to. For Tommy. For Tubbo. For the whole SMP. Sam sent back a quick response: Roger.

Sam sighed, standing up and heading for the cell. He had to at least try. Yet another sigh. He was sighing too much these days. Sam walked to the cell, drinking a fire resistance potion and swimming through. His eyes landed on Dream, curled up and bandaged, fur grimy and dirty. He hadn't moved in days, potatoes rotting in the pool of water that was used as a reset point for the prisoners. Not that Dream would ever use it, what with his one cannon life left. Sam stormed over to Dream, tangling his hands in the creatures hair to retch his head up. Dream opened his eye, cloudy and unfocused.

A mumble fell from the creatures lips. One word, probably Sam's name. It didn't matter. "I have to do this Dream. Quackity needs that information." Sam pulled Dream up by his hair, slamming his head into the wall. Dream stayed there, limp, staring at Sam. The warden shook his head, letting Dream drop to the ground without a care. He walked to the puddle, pulling out one of the rotting potatoes. It was like sludge with a rock-hard core.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. It was gross but Sam wasn't about tear Dream limb-from-limb. That was not his style. Sam stood, walking over to where Dream lay, still limp and pliant. Sam grabbed his chin, digging the points of his gauntlets into Dream's jaw. "You need to eat, or else you'll never heal." With that, Sam shoved the rotten food into Dream's mouth, holding his hand over Dream's mouth, staring down as the prisoner's eyes widened and he started coughing, thrashing and lightly hitting Sam in and effort to get free. "Swallow, Dream. I'm done with you wasting the food you are given."

Dream suddenly grabbed Sam's mask, tearing it off the warden's face in such a way that Sam yelled and fell back, kicking Dream in the face. "What the fuck Dream?! You know that's- ARGH!" Sam screamed in rage. Dream knew not to fight back against Sam, even more than he knew not to fight back against Quackity. Sam had netherite with thorns whereas Quackity did not. Sam grabbed another potato, grabbing Dream's ankle and dragging the gagging prisoner closer. Sam wrapped a hand around Dream's neck, using his greater size to choke and pry Dream's jaw open.

Sam froze.

Dream's sharper canine teeth were gone, while his slightly sharp front teeth were broken beyond repair; jagged and cracked. Dream was gargling some nonsense, pawing at Sam's arm. Sam let go, dropping the rotten food as he did so. He suddenly began to tear at the bandages, staring in horror as the realization slowly hit him: Quackity took Dream's teeth, and Dream... Dream wasn't acting out by not eating.

Sam ran from the cell, running down the corridors and out of the prison. Sam slumped to the ground, covering his mouth. He had left his mask in the cell. He took out his communicator, hands shaking as he typed a message to Quackity: What the fuck is wrong with you?

Quackity cast a glance at his communicator, frowning at the message. He ignored it, putting it back into his packet. "It's right up here." He stated, climbing over the last hill, the lights of the city bathing him in a multicolored glow. "Boys, Welcome... To Las Nevadas!"

The three teens stood on the crest of the hill, mouth agape at the city. It wasn't a city in the normal sense, but there were obviously multiple buildings, each one flashy and bright in its own right, they just blended together in a way that was indescribable.

"Holy shit Big Q!"

"Woah! Nice!"

Ranboo remained silent, staring in awe. He was oblivious to the way Quackity was glaring at him, the way Quackity was sizing him up and seemingly inspecting his eyes and teeth from a distance.

"Come on guys, why don't we get a closer look?"

Quackity's remark finally snapped Ranboo from his trance, finding the other three already a small distance ahead, the half-enderman jogging to catch up to them. Quackity was ranting about the city, talking about how it was mostly just hotels and casinos so far. One or two places for food and drinks, but no actual restaurants. Ranboo spun around as they walked, wanting to take in every detail. Things like this were... They brought something out in him, something that he hadn't felt in... forever? Forever.

The group stopped in front of a massive building, right in the center of the city. "And this is my place! Come on in, make yourselves at home~!" Quackity stated, loudly, opening the door with a flourish. The trio of teens stare in awe; gold, silver, white, and red decorated the whole immediate room, with a huge glowing bar at one end and plenty of tables for poker, slot machines, and other games scattered throughout the room.

The teens separated throughout the room, staring at the whole area. Tommy ran to the bar, making high-pitched noises of awe at all the fancy bottles lining the wall. Tubbo ran to the slot machines, running up and down the rows and rows of them bouncing around and probably imagining how much gold, diamonds, and maybe even netherite he could get. Ranboo ignored all the other tables, walking to a game he had never seen before. It had a wheel at one end, and red-and-black number on a grid going from 1 to 36. Looking back at the wheel, Ranboo found that one spot on the wheel was green, a red ball resting in the spot.

Ranboo picked up the ball. It was... such a weird weight. His back fur stood on end as he continued to look at and play with the ball. What even was it made out of? It looked like it was glazed or covered in glass. And why was his fur raising so much? Why did it make him... uncomfortable? No, not uncomfortable... scared, sick, angry.

Ranboo rolled it around a bit more, putting it back as Quackity called the trio over to a curtain. "This is my VIP room. You guys will be the first to see it!" He seemed so excited, pulling on a beautifully white tassel to draw the curtain open.

The VIP room was much darker, deep blues and blacks covering the small room from floor to ceiling, with dulled redstone lamps over the few sitting areas scatter throughout. Quackity ran off, mentioning that he needed something to make the room complete. Ranboo ignored the room, inspecting the pull used to open the curtain. It looked... Ranboo looked to one of his tails, the white one... The pull looked so much like it. Ranboo began to play with the pull. It was much softer than his tail could ever be, either of them; and it lacked the sleek fur at the end, instead ending in soft, cloud-like fur... or something. Ranboo had no idea what it was made out of, but much like the little ball from the game table, it caused the fur on his neck to stand on end.

"Alright guys! Check this out!" Quackity cheered, finally having come back. He strode into the room, draped in a lovely fur coat, standing out in the dull room as he flopped down on the sofa. Tommy and Tubbo stared in awe. Tubbo was immediately fascinated by how soft it was, while Tommy was inspecting the sleeves and hem.

"Damn Big Q, why the fuck didn't we have you make the uniforms? You would have made them even better than me!"

Quackity gave Tommy a look. "What?"

Tommy held up the bottom hem of the coat. "The seams! God, leather and fur and hide are so fucking hard to work with, but you... Jesus how fucking long did it take you to sew this? The seams are invisible. You have to teach me." Tommy continued to inspect the coat where the seams should be, clearly fascinated.

Ranboo came over as well, cautiously reaching out to feel the fur coat. His fur was raising again, telling him to do something... to take the fur coat and then beat Quackity senseless. Then his finger touched the fur.

All fight left Ranboo.

The ball came to mind.

The curtain pull came to mind.

And now the fur coat.

Ranboo ran from the building, clawing his way over the hills. He could hear Tommy and Tubbo yelling for him, asking him what was wrong. He didn't answer... Tubbo should know, Tubbo should be able to tell.

The fur of an Enderman is very distinct, after all.

#Trigger waring #content warning #angst #Ranboo #Quackity #Tubbo_ #Tommyinnit #Awesamdude #Dreamwastaken #White Enderman! Dream #My writing #Ender Family AU #tw torture #cw gore #Tommy can sew in this AU #and he's not used to the feel of Enderman fur #Hence why he's shocked at Quackity's coat #Tubbo is just too excited #And also Ranboo's fur is a little different #Not much but just enough

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

Transfer - Wave Pt. 3

*Peter Parker x Reader

*Summary: Reader has become too much of a danger and hassle for the hospital to deal with ever since finding Steve, and now she’s being sent to an undisclosed location to further her imprisonment. 

*Warnings: Swearing (Is anyone surprised at this point?) Written by Admin R

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine

And so went the days. You’d be hooked up to the IV drip for no more than ten minutes before removing the IV and causing trouble. You ran through halls, trying to find anyone else that might’ve still had the energy to fight, resist, but you found no one. They all felt abandoned by the very people that they fought to protect, and saw no reason to even bother trying to escape. Your meetings with Steve were few and far between, you always disconnecting him from his IV, trying to help him get his strength back. They had tried moving him to a different room to stop these meetings, even posting guards at the door, but you were clever. You always managed to distract them, whether it was calling different codes over the intercom or even using your powers to make diversions for you to sneak into your mentor’s room. It was one of those meetings when Steve had seemed perkier than usual. “I think it’s working,” Steve told you, a renewed hope in his eyes, something you hadn’t seen in awhile. He’d been getting better since you’d gotten here, but there were still the off days.

“What?” you asked, not quite sure what he meant. You were no closer to escaping than you’d been when you first woke up in this hospital, all you were doing was causing trouble. But if he was getting his strength and energy back, then the two of you could work to do something.

“I’ve heard talk, they’re saying that you’re too much trouble to keep here. I think they’re moving you,” Steve replied. “If you escape on the transport, you’ll be able to find somewhere else to hide out and then tell everyone what’s going on.”

“How is it that you know I’m being moved before I know?” You asked, tilting your head slightly in confusion.

“Again, I heard people talking about it. Do you know where you’re going when you get out?” Steve asked, pressing for the information.

“I don’t know, I have family in Mexico so I might head out there. But I’m not all that good at geography so I might end up in the wrong place. Maybe I could go back to LA, we have a high enough population of homeless teens that I wouldn’t be noticed,” I told him, running through my top options. “But I don’t know how far we are from LA, so again with the whole geography thing.”

“Both of those seem like good ideas, but once you escape they’ll be looking all over for you, are you sure going back to your hometown is exactly safe?” Steve asked.

“If you were on the run, wouldn’t you want to be home in Brooklyn?” you replied with a knowing look. But maybe he was right, maybe it wasn’t safe for you to be back home, no matter how much you wanted to be. But with the talk of Brooklyn, it gave you an idea. “Maybe I can head out to New York. It might take me awhile to get there, but maybe Peter could hide me for a little before I start over.”

“That could work, have you been able to talk to him at all?”

“No, the computers only let me access the patient records, and they started putting more protection on that since they realized what I was doing,” you replied. “I haven’t exactly had a chance to warn him about everything. Do you think?”

“No, I don’t think Stark would let him get caught,” Steve told you, easing a bit of your nerves. Peter was a close friend, after all, and you didn’t want to even imagine him being in a place like this, no one knowing what happened to him.

“Knowing Pete, he wouldn’t’ve gone for the registry. Do you ever wonder what they told the world about us? Like, did they say we went missing or did they tell everyone that we were arrested? Maybe the world thinks we’re dead, and we can’t do anything about it,” you said, mood turning somber. “How long do you think we’ve been missing for?”

“I’m not sure, maybe a couple months at the most,” Steve replied, slightly taken aback by your sudden change of mood. “Maybe we-” he was cut off by the door opening.

“Okay, Steve, we’re going to- really? You’re in here again?” the doctor asked with a roll of her eyes as she noticed you. “Guys, she’s back,” she called back into the corridor.

“Well, see you later, Steve,” you said, jumping off the bed and taking off. The last time you’d been running around the hospital, you found some service corridors that you could possibly use. You took off in the direction of one of the entrances to them, hoping that you’d be able to explore them for a bit before you got caught. You rounded the corner, nearing the door as you heard the footsteps getting closer. You threw the door open the second that you touched the handle, slamming it behind you and essentially welding the door shut with your powers. “That should give me a bit of time,” you muttered, already looking around. You found a small roll of twine, taking it in hand and tying the end to a shelf near the door.

You walked along the corridors, taking turns and going up staircases. It wasn’t until you had reached a staircase with a single door at the end when you realized what you had found. You dropped the twine, setting fire to it to hide your traces. You opened the door, seeing the night sky for the first time in ages. You stepped onto the roof, looking around at what you’d found. You looked out around the hospital, trying to figure out where you were, but you could see nothing but miles of desert around you. “Okay, so this ranges from anywhere in Southern California to anywhere along the border, maybe Nevada,” you muttered as you racked your brain, trying to figure out where you could possibly be. “But that means that they took Steve from wherever he was and transported him to the other side of the country. Mexico wouldn’t go for letting America do this, so I’m probably not in Mexico. Steve, he can figure this out. No, I should try to find the nearest city or whatever. Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Just as you were about to take off, using your powers to take you from the hospital, you were tackled, dropped to the concrete of the roof and injected with something that made you lose consciousness almost instantly.

When you woke again, you were unsurprised to find yourself back in your room, restraints around your wrists and the stupid spray on your hands again. You suppressed the roll of your eyes as the doctor from before walked in, false cheerfulness exuding from her as she looked at the clipboard in her hands. “Well, (y/n), it looks like you’re being moved from our facility!” Oh, so maybe it wasn’t false.

“That’s fun,” you replied in a monotone voice, looking up at the ceiling. “Can I know where, or is that classified like everything else in this shithole?”

“Well, we can’t reveal the exact location, but you’re getting moved to house arrest of sorts. You’re still in custody, but you’re just too much trouble to keep here in our facility,” she told you. You fought a bit to sit up, finally looking at the doctor. You knew that you were getting moved, but house arrest? That was really risky, especially for someone with powers. “You’re being transferred tomorrow morning, so be sure to say your goodbyes. Or, well, just stay here,” she laughed humorlessly, looking at your restraints.

“Oh, Doc, your humor is always without fail,” you replied in the monotone voice once again, not letting her know the excitement that was coursing through your veins. You had found a way for Steve to get out of this place, you were probably going to be able to escape, everything was just going your way. Which instantly made you suspicious. She left the room, briefly adjusting your meds before leaving, trying to give enough to knock you out. You sought the corner of the bedsheet, feeling around with your fingertips until you finally found it. You had hidden a scalpel under the edge of the bedsheet ever since the first time they put you in restraints left you powerless. You cut yourself free, taking out the IV before going to the door. You pressed your ear against the door, listening for movement on the other side. When you heard none, you left, making your way to Steve’s room.

“You were right,” you said the second you entered the room. “I’m being moved tomorrow, but it’s under house arrest at some place they’re not telling me.”

“I told you,” he said with a faint smirk. He had been hooked up to an IV again and held his hand out to you, motioning slightly. “A little help with this?” You nodded, going to take it out the same way you had yours.

“I hope you know how to do this on your own, because I’ve got a couple things to tell you before I go. I think I found a way for you to get out of here after I’m gone,” you told him, dropping the IV to dangle on its stand. Steve nodded, and you explained everything, the service corridors and how you found the exit. The desert surrounding the hospital, how that could place you anywhere in the southwest if you were lucky. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but before long the doctor came in with some security guards, ready to take you for the transport. The two guards had their hands on their tasers, ready to attack if you made any sudden move. “You guys can chill, I’m going willingly,” you said, holding out your hands.

“See you later, (L/n),” Steve spoke, nodding at you as you were cuffed and sprayed once again. You only smiled before they placed what you could only describe as a muzzle over your mouth, reminding you slightly of Bucky’s in those pictures of him as the Winter Soldier. The guards then dragged you out of the room, not that it was entirely necessary since you weren’t fighting. They put you back in your room, making you give them a confused head tilt since you couldn’t speak. A few seconds later, you felt the prick of a needle in your neck, knocking you out again.

The first thing you registered as you slowly woke up was the jostling of an uneven road. The next was the restraints around your wrists and the hard back of a chair. Your eyes flew open, taking in the sight of a prison transport vehicle, or what you assumed one looked like from the movies. “So you’re finally up,” someone across from you said. It was a guy that looked to be around your age, restrained similar to you, but minus the muzzle. “Well, I’m Sam, and for some reason they think I’m still enough of a danger to put under restraints, even though all my powers come from my helmet. My whole other thing is Nova, and I’m guessing you’re Wave since they have that whole muzzle thing on you.” You nodded, having heard of this guy from Peter, apparently they’d been friendly rivals while training with SHIELD.

“Yeah, great. So I’m guessing you were causing trouble over there too?” You nodded again. “Great, same story here. Maybe they’ll put us in the same place, that’ll definitely give them a run for their money,” he laughed with a small smile. “It’ll be great! Can’t wait until you can actually talk, I bet you have some crazy stories.” Sam kept chattering throughout the ride, keeping you entertained while the two of you were taken to wherever it was the driver was going. Before long, the truck came to a hard stop, cutting Sam off mid-sentence.

“Well, looks like we’re here,” Sam told you, smiling. “Once you get that muzzle off, you’re going to have to tell me all about Captain America and his team.” You nodded, your laugh muffled by the muzzle as the doors opened. A bigger guy came in, taking off the restraints and replacing them with handcuffs. You raised a brow at Sam who just shrugged, letting the guard do the same to him. The guard then led the two of you up to the house, a woman and an armed man standing at the door, waiting for the two of you. Sam gave a large grin the second that he realized the two of you were going to be staying in the same place. The guard dragged you and Sam into the house, leaving the keys with the two people. As soon as he left and closed the door behind you, the woman set on unlocking your cuffs and taking off the muzzle.

“Alright, let me tell you how things are going to work here. You are allowed to have minimal freedom, but if either of you guys try anything at all, my partner and I will not hesitate to shoot you. Now, welcome to your new prison,” she said, looking between you and Sam.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #marvel imagine #wave series #Mexican Reader

[count-demonlord-of-decadence]

T’is A Safe Space (There’s No Such Thing)

What was once the Gamma Alpha Phi frat house, has become the The Alison Bechdel Center; a safe space for cis female sexual assault survivors of color. The frat was forced to abandon the place after several members of Sigma Alpha Phi were indicted on multiple counts of sexual assault. And in the two years since it opened, the center welcomed over 200 guests. There was 24 women present that evening, when eight armed assailants stormed in. Those that made for the emergency exits found them barred from the outside. Those who tried to call for help found no internet or cellular signal. Despite being clad in urban grey fatigues, body armor and masks the assailants were clearly women who spoke English. Each was armed with a Heckler & Koch MP7 as well as a full urban combat load. They gathered the women in the lounge and held them at gunpoint until the eccentrics made their entrance. I shall introduce them now so you’re familiar with them.

Entering first was a woman who obviously dyes her short hair blonde. She’s 183 cm tall, weighs 53 kg, has brown eyes and goes by the name Andromache Prentiss. The current U.S. Air Force "Equestrian Competition Service Dress Configuration" with the rank of captain. She carried a sjambok. Following her, was a chubby 15 year old mixed race girl named Star Ash. She wore No. 4WD dress.of the royal navy with the rank of midshipman. She was clearly excited.

Mistress Dokkaebi, hailing from Sejong, entered next wearing an imperial Japanese army officer’s uniform with colonel insignia. She is advertised as the most sadistic dominatrix on the Korean peninsula. She carried a riding crop.

Next was a short, portly black man wearing a U.S. Navy admiral’s Full Dress uniform with rear admiral stripes, but instead of a cutlass he had a katana. An ornate skull was painted on his face, he calls himself Demon Lord. With him was a black woman named Bull Van Dyke. She’s the exact same age, height and weight as Demon Lord, giving them the appearance of siblings. They even have the same haircut. Given how they carried on with each other, one hoped they weren’t. She wore the U.S.M.C. evening dress with the rank of general.

Teah Hawke entered next, cosplaying as Gung-Ho from the G.I. Joe animated series. He is immensely tall (230 cm) and and bulky man (162 kg). He has long, powerful arms and legs, massive hands and feet. He has shoulder-length slick black hair and imposing facial features. Last is Viktor (no surname), hailing from South Sudan. He is very tall at 224 cm. He possesses a hulking, muscular build at 130 kg. His hands are massive enough to close around the entire head of many of his opponents. His bald head is covered by a red beret, he wore desert warfare fatigue pants, a sweat stained tank top and his hands are taped like a boxer’s. Six more women entered dressed in the NWU Type I. They were carrying a storage containers. They are the engineers.

Many of the women were recording with their cell phones when Demon Lord began to speak with an Eastern European accent,

“Permit me to introduce myself, my name is Demon Lord and you are ours. No need to waste your battery and storage space. As you can see my troops are setting up multiple cameras to ensure not one second of what transpires next is lost. Resistance is useless, but encouraged as it adds spice to the situation. Some of you maybe wondering ‘Why me? Why us, here and now?’ Rest assured your enemies did not send us. Nor is this an elaborate revenge plot against you. We stumbled upon your website and scoffed at the notion of this as a safe space. Nowhere is safe; nowhere. Not from us. Prentiss, prep them.”

“Okay ladies,” Prentiss spoke with a heavy Greek accent, “get your clothes off. You can either do it yourselves,” her tone pure malice, “or we can do it for you.”

Star Ash stepped towards the women with one arm full of cheap California Proposition 67 compliant grocery bags and a bag of Sharpie brush pens in every color they offer.

“Feel free to put your belongings in one of these bags,” She spoke like a native New Yorker badly faking a British accent, “and make sure you use one of these markers to put your name on the bag. We don’t want an mix ups now do we…”

Star was grabbed by a black woman in a staff shirt. She huddled behind Star, whispered, “Don’t worry, they can’t hurt you now.” in her ear before calling out, “Okay, you can’t shoot without hitting the girl. If you want to keep the girl safe, you let us go and you let us go now.”

Three of the 24 women noticed that the armed guards were either guarding the exits or setting up the equipment, and not paying attention to them at all.

“You’re making a big mistake Moesha. A big mistake.” Star hissed without the phoney accent.

“How do you know my name?” She asked, and Star answered by hitting her directly on the clitoris with a concealed slungshot then performed a flawless Ippon seoinage on Moesha. From there she transitioned into an armbar. Before any of the others could help Moesha, Teah stepped up to block their path.

“Moesha Bernard,” Star recited with the phony British accent, “27 years old, from San Marino California. She was raped by two of her fellow Marines while on active duty in Afghanistan. Her superiors convinced her not to press charges, as an investigation would compromise active classified operations.” All of the eccentrics and some of the guards laughed at this.

Star released Moesha, only for Teah heft her to her feet by her just strained arm. He pulled out a Timber Rattler Bowie knife, taking time to ensure she recognized the instrument before grabbing the front of her shirt and slicing it open revealing a cheap, generic, white bra. She screamed and flailed wildly in self defense. Teah responded by swiftly shoving his free index and middle fingers into her mouth. If she bit him, he didn’t flinch. He kept manipulating his fingers into her throat until he triggered her vomit reflex. Because he still had his fingers in her mouth, she ended up choking on most of the vomit. When finally removed his fingers, she fell choking and gagging. She could hardly resist as Teah sliced off her stretch pants revealing panties as equally boring as the bra that matched. Those too were sliced off. Teah then revealed his member, seven and fifteen-sixteenths around by eleven inches long and circumcised. He sets to raping Moesha with loud powerful thrusts.

“Any more of you cunts want to do this the hard way?” Star smirked. A different black woman stepped forward and assumed a fighting stance. “Ah, Melissa Reed, 24, of Las Vegas Nevada. The only white guy she ever dated attempted to rape her on their eighth date. She fought him off and successfully had him prosecuted. Ironically, when she learned he himself had been hospitalized with HPV after being brutally gang raped in prison, she tweeted, ‘Good’.”

“C’mon little girl. Why don’t you show me some of that karate you used earlier. Afraid I’ll break my foot off in that fat ass of yours?”

“No.” Star retorted, “But Viktor here, might want to put his foot up, your fat ass.”

Viktor stepped towards the woman and with a speed that defied his size had the woman in a Muay Thai plum. A knee strike, which surely would’ve broken bones, landed just to the right of her navel. This was followed by a fierce uppercut to her jaw that clearly broke it. The way she hit the ground made most observers assume she was dead. He tore her clothes off with his bare hands and raped her with his ten and fifteen-sixteenths inches long by seven and five-eighths around,  uncircumsized penis. Only then did she show signs of life.

“Anymore stupid questions?” Star asked with a wide grin. The collective shook their heads. Star handed each a grocery bag and a marker before  Prentiss loudly struk the wall with the sjambok and shouted the command, “STRIP!” 21 of the women fearfully did so, but one woman swiftly undressed and approached Demon Lord speaking with a Welsh accent.

“If this has gotta happen then lets get it over and be done with. What do ya say big boy? Or perhaps one of the ladies prefer a shag? Not that it matters to me”

“And who the fuck are you?” Demon Lord asked of the short, half white, half black chubby girl.

“That’s Lisa Forester, 22, of Swansea, Wales. She was raped by a former boyfriend two years ago and currently studying abroad.” Star answered on her behalf.

Demon Lord shoved Lisa face first to the tile, pulled out his average sized cock and set to tenderly raping her.

Once all the women were naked, Mistress Dokkaebi stepped forward to inspect them like slaves at an auction. After 349 seconds she selected a small quivering Asian girl doing her best to hide in the back.

“That’s Cindy Liu of San Bernardino California. Her father raped her for the first 11 of her 18 years of her life.” Star quipped, “He was apprehended because he was quite open and honest about it when drunk. He’s currently sentenced to Patton State Hospital.”

Mistress Dokkaebi pulled the girl by her shoulder length hair, cuffed her wrists behind her back, strapped a ball gag in her mouth & shoved her to the tile. She then strapped on a glow in the dark blue Centaur Dildo that measured 6.5 inches long and 4,7 inches in girth, rolled Cindy onto her back forced her knees to her ears and set to raping her. Mistress Dokkaebi called her every misogynistic slur in both English and Korean the entire time.

Bull Van Dyke’s inspection was just as long, but far more flamboyant than Mistress Dokkaebi’s. In the end she selected 30 year old Erva Sunay, sex trafficked out of Izmit Turkey at age nine.

“She was eventually sold to Diego Vargas of the Mexican mob operating in Bakersfield. Erva found and was granted asylum after the DEA raided Diego’s home. Diego is currently serving a life sentence in Kern Valley State Prison.” Star commentated.

Bull Van Dyke secures the girl in a bondage frame set up by the engineers. She attaches weighted nipple clamps to Erva’s rather large nipples. She then finger bangs Erva in a way she can’t help but get physical pleasure from. Her technique was astonishing.

Teah had finished with Moesha, giving Prentiss the chance to select 31 year old Kristen Skerritt who was trying to hide in the back of the group. Star explained, ”Kristen is a product of the Canadian foster care system. She was molested in four of the five homes they placed her in. Her efforts to combat rape culture brought here. She was instrumental in the seizing and conversion of this building.”

Prentiss had the girl secured to a different bondage frame and attacks her with the sjambok. Sixty percent of her blows land on Kirsten’s anus and vagina, 20% to her rather large breasts and the remainder her back and buttocks. Kirsten begs for someone to help her. Two of the girls dash towards two guards who are chatting and smoking, and beg for escape. The guards do nothing but halt their conversation and prevent the girls escape until Teah dragged them back by their hair. The guards then returned to their conversation as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Teah shoved the Arab one into the group toppling four of them. The Mexican one he shoved face first to the floor and raped her more violently than he did Moesha. There was lots of biting and choking from Teah this time. Viktor had finished with Melissa and was intimidating the remaining girls as Star proceeded to shove her foot up the Melissa’s ass, using only her own tears as lubricant, as she commentated.

“That’s 29 year old Eliza Jimenez of Moreno Valley, Teah. When she was 16, she ran away from home because her parents wouldn’t let her date. She was abducted Anthony Mayweather who held her prisoner for five years. He beat and raped her daily for those years before falling victim to a drunk driver. Eliza was found 16 days after Mayweather’s death in an emaciated state.”

“That explains her lack of resistance.” Teah  quipped. All the eccentrics laughed.

Demon Lord had left Lisa weeping in the fetal position, allowing Viktor to grab an obese Mexican girl. “This one is 31 year old Maria Galavez. She was sex trafficked out of Tijuana Mexico 19 years ago. She uses food to cope with her history of abuse.” Star said, finally getting her entire foot up Melissa’s ass with some help from Demon Lord.

Viktor provides her with a box of Nilla Wafers to eat as her rapes her. Viktor hammers her pussy until she eats every single last one. She quietly cried the entire time. Mistress Dokkaebi had just finished with Cindy, leaving Demon Lord free to grab the near catatonic black woman by her dreadlocks. Star explains, “41 year old Cassandra Manigat hails from Jacmel, Haiti and lost everything in the Earthquake of 2010. She had to turn to prostitution to survive. She emigrated to the US in 2016 and in fact was the third patron of The Alison Bechdel Center.”

Demon Lord rapes her vaginally and anally, providing color commentary as we went. No one listened to a word of it either.

Bull was finished with Erva, allowing Mistress Dokkaebi to ask Star which one was the youngest remaining. “That would be 22 year old Reshma Darvish of Yucaipa California.” Star replied after abandoning her shoe in Melisa’s ass. “Three years ago, her date attempted to rape her. Her resistance was sufficient to keep her chastity intact, but allowed her attacker to plead out and only serve 30 days in jail. Interestingly, this was very first date she ever went on.”

Like Cindy, Mistress Dokkaebi pulled the girl by her waist long hair, cuffed her wrists behind her back, strapped a ball gag in her mouth & shoved her to the tile. She then strapped on a Glow in the Dark Green and Blue Marble Xenuphora Alien Tentacle Dildo that measured 6.75 inches long and has circumference of 4.5 inches at the base. She then rolled Reshma onto her back forced her knees to her ears and set to raping her. Mistress Dokkaebi called her every misogynistic slur in both English and Korean the entire time too.

Prentiss took over watch, and Bull Van Dyke asked Star which one remaining was the oldest. “45 year old Selena Lopez of San Juan, Puerto Rico. She was gang raped while active duty in the USAF 22 years ago. Though the evidence confirms multiple attackers, only one was charged and convicted. T Sgt Arnold Hood confessed to the crime and claimed no other individuals were involved. He died in prison. Though ruled a suicide, to describe the circumstances as suspicious would be an understatement.” Star replied while tying a new shoe provided by the engineers. It didn’t match her original though.

Bull secured the woman in a vacated bondage frame, and ridiculed the woman for dying the grey out of her hair before setting a cheap and loud vibrator on it’s highest setting and shoving it up Selena’s ass with no lube. Her scream brought a cheer from the eccentrics. Prentiss ordered the engineers to take pictures of Selena’s face with everyone’s confiscated cell phones. Bull then set to fingering the woman’s hairy vagina, and sucking her clit with a skill and technique that assured physical pleasure.

Teah took over for Prentiss who targeted 31 year old Candy Velez. Star would explain, “Originally from San Bernardino California, Candy here was abducted by remnants of Shining Path back in 2003, while visiting her maternal grandparents. They had their way with her for 227 days before she was rescued by government forces. She claims to be a lesbian because of it.” The eccentrics laughed at this. Prentiss secures the woman in a vacant bondage frame and has at her with a cat o nine tails. She doesn’t stop beating her until it’s her turn to be guard again.

After spitting in Maria’s face, Viktor takes over for Teah. Teah targets the only woman remaining who shows defiance. She attempts to defend herself with the amateur boxing skill she had.

“That’s Shirley Whitehorse of Pawnee descent. She’s 28 and was raped on the reservation when she was 16. Her mother moved her and her siblings to Southern California when the crime wasn’t investigated.” In the time it took Star to say this, Teah had defeated Shirley. He held her down and anally raped her, pulling her hair and biting her ears until they bled.

Demon Lord relieved Viktor, who then selected the largest girl remaining as Star explained, “That’s Desire Kolone of Yucaipa California. She’s 25 years old and of Samoan descent. She was raised a tomboy and fell in love with skateboarding. She was gonna go pro until she was raped by some of her fellow skaters. She pressed charges against her attackers. They were prosecuted, convicted and given the harshest sentence possible. So harsh that on appeal their sentence was reduced to time served plus the mandatory minimum sentence. All three are free at this time.” Viktor choked Desire until she lost consciousness then anally raped her. Every time she came to, he repeated the process.

As soon as Mistress Dokkaebi had finished with Reshma, Demon Lord leapt at the Filipino woman attempting to hide behind the others. “That’s 33 year old Samantha Affleck of Loma Linda California. On two separate occasions she successfully fought off a man who attempted to rape her. She too claims the experience made her a lesbian.” Star quipped. The eccentrics laughed again. Demon Lord raped her like it’s depicted in Hollywood movies, lots of harsh thrusting, guttural noises and face licking.

Bull Van Dyke was eating some supermarket sushi and dried mango slices when she relieved Mistress Dokkaebi. Star introduced Mistress Dokkaebi’s next victim, “This is 39 year old Sadia Ali. Born in Dera Ghazi Khan, Pakistan, she was sold into marriage at age 14. In order to escape her fate she fled, but had to prostitute herself to survive. She a rising voice against sex trafficking and child marriages and is here to bring recognition to the The Alison Bechdel Center.  But still remains a devout Muslim woman.”

“Is that right?” Mistress Dokkaebi spoke nigh perfect English, “Bring me her hijab.”

Sadia tried to resist, but a raised hand from Mistress Dokkaebi was enough to quell it. Sadia was secured in a bondage frame and gagged. Star put Sadia’s hijab on her as Mistress Dokkaebi strapped on a crimson Mr Ed anatomically correct horse dildo that measured 17 inches long, with five and a half inches of girth. She then vaginally raped the girl, once again uttering every imaginable misogynistic slur in both English and Korean.

“Tell me about the one with the henna art on her.” Bull commanded, giving Prentiss the hint that her time was up. Star replied, “That’s 37 year old Nadia Kulthum of Perris California. She enlisted in the U.S. Army at age 18, but was severely beaten and raped on 14 September 2001 by a group of her fellow soldiers. No one was prosecuted because her assailants covered for each other and the anti Arab sentiment of the time. Ironically she’s an atheist who has a youtube channel that highlights the evils of Islam.”

Bull unleashed a series of punches, kicks, elbows and knee strikes on Nadia, ensuring she’s docile. She the performs cunnilingus on Nadia while penetrating her anus with a pink, silicone Dylan The Dolphin dildo.

Teah helped himself to some supermarket sushi, a Hostess Sno Ball and a Modelo Chelada Especial before giving Prentiss her turn. Prentiss inspected the remaining women for 445 seconds before selecting the most hirsute one remaining. “This is Carmen Ramirez of San Bernardino California. She and her brother were in a gang, and their fellow gang members gang raped her because she was declared off limits by her brother. No one was ever prosecuted because of the no snitching rule.” Star’s last line generated laughter from the eccentrics. Carmen is secured in a bondage frame, and given 44 strokes with the sjambok; most of which land on her breasts. Prentiss then forced her fist into Carmen’s mouth, vagina and anus while pricking her with a hat pin.

Viktor has some supermarket fried chicken legs and a Smirnoff Ice Peach Bellini, while Teah takes a curly haired Hispanic girl. Star was drinking a glass of Tannat wine from Uruguay as she spoke, “ This is 23 year old Margarita Salazar, born in Mejicanos El Salvador. She worked hard, honestly and legally to earn enough money to illegally enter the United States. The human traffickers she bargained with wanted more from her than just cash though. The fate of those traffickers is unknown, but no one was ever prosecuted in her case, specifically. She was granted refugee asylum last year.”

Margarita is hysterically flailing, which only serves to arouse Teah. He pins her to the tile and vaginally rapes her, encouraging her to scream, bellow and cry.

Demon Lord urinated on Cassandra and helped himself to some supermarket fried chicken wings and a twix bar before Viktor could proceed. He selected the penultimate black woman in the group of the untouched. Star refilled her wine glass, purposely making a mess as she spoke, “25 year old Mirembe Mbabazi’s earliest memory is the day Interahamwe raided her Ugandan village. They killed her parents and her brother. She and her two sisters were taken by the terrorists. She was 11 at the time. They held and abused her for 812 days. One night, they held a gun in her hands and made her shoot her two sisters. She escaped into the wilderness the next night. She was rescued by U.N. peacekeepers. Eventually she applied for refugee status and the U.S. granted her asylum in 2011. She currently resides in Thousand Palms, California with a boyfriend ignorant of her past trauma.” Viktor rapes her vaginally and anally, like he’s trying to break her pelvis. The guards and engineers discussed if he would succeed or not. Star took bets to see if he would.

Mistress Dokkaebi had cheap champagne and supermarket potato salad, freeing up Demon Lord to select the most petite woman of all the women present. Star introduced her.

“This is 23 year old Mya Simpson, born Mya Sein. She was sex trafficked out of Magway, Myanmar at age six. At 13 she was caught in a prostitution sting and arrested. The courts sympathized with her plight and allowed a lesbian Los Angeles couple to adopt her. She’s studying to get a degree in gender studies.” This last line was booed by the eccentrics, Mistress Dokkaebi hurled a spoonful of supermarket potato salad at Mya, hitting her right between her modest bosom.

“Nice shot.” Star quipped with a wink, to which Mistress Dokkaebi replied, “Not really. I was aiming for her left eye.”

Mya submitted to Demon Lord’s touch like it was old hat, because it was. This took the fun out of it for Demon Lord. He punched her, kicked her, bit her, choked her, whiped her with a leather thong and raped her vaginally, anally and orally. And she just went along with it with vacant eyes. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t experienced before. But it didn’t stop him.

Bull Van Dyke was eating a slice of 7 Eleven cheese pizza when she gave Mistress Dokkaebi the go ahead. She selected a Hindu woman with the largest nipples of any person present.

“That’s Sara Nagaratnamma, age 33. She was sex trafficked out of Handwara, Kashmir at age 12. She escaped forced prostitution, married, gained U.S. citizenship and then divorced. She’s a self professed man hater and…” Star couldn't stop herself from laughing at this point, “Adversary of the patriarchy.” All the eccentrics laughed at this as well. Mistress Dokkaebi secured Sara in a bondage frame and anally raped her with a Lex Steele realistic dildo strapped on. While raping her, Mistress Dokkaebi strangled Sara with a turquoise Vera Wang scarf, and again, shouted every imaginable misogynistic slur in both English and Korean at her.

Prentiss had to wash her hands before taking a slice of 7 Eleven cheese pizza, adding ranch dressing to it, before Bull Van Dyke could take the last black woman. Star described her while eating Boston Baked Beans, “Monique Kelly is 25 years old. Two years ago, she was gang raped by the rival gang of her brother, in retaliation for him raping a male member of their gang while in prison. Unlike Carmen Ramirez, Monique has never been a member of any gang.”

Bull has the woman secured in a bondage frame and used pussy pumps on Monique’s vagina and nipples, vacuuming them in place before anally raping her with a rather large cucumber.

Teah took over to let Prentiss have the last woman remaining.

“This is 30 year old Janice Torre of San Diego California.” Star explained between bites of a slice of 7 Eleven cheese pizza, “She was raped while on active duty in the United States Navy. Though she pressed charges, arrests were made and a trial was convinced; the charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence. The subsequent investigation into evidence tampering in the Navy also yielded no results.”

Prentiss secured Janice in a bondage frame, and forced a mannequins hand up her ass. Then she penetrated the woman’s cunt with the sjambok, lubricating it with her juices before striking her about the breasts and inner thighs with it.

At Teah’s command, the guards cuffed and hoodwinked all the used women and had disturbingly casual conversations with the engineers about sports and politics while waiting for the eccentrics to finish. As each did, they joined in the food, drink and conversation. Prentiss was the last to finish. After all the women were cuffed and hoodwinked, Star confirmed that Mirembe Mbabazi’s pelvis was not broken, collecting and giving money as needed. Demon Lord then retrieved a Mossberg 500 shotgun, loudly pumping it near the hooded heads of the women. The eccentrics reveled in their terror. After going quiet for about nine minutes to let them calm down a bit, he shot Moesha Bernard. There was screaming and panic. After 90 seconds he shot Kristen Skerritt. After another 90 second interval, he shot Selena Lopez. 90 seconds later he shot Candy Velez, waited 90 seconds then shot Nadia Kulthum. Finally, after another 90 seconds, he shot Janice Torre.

The eccentrics, guards and engineers then cleaned up all traces of their presence and departed. It was hours later when the women were rescued and learned that Demon Lord had shot those six with non lethal rounds.

The Alison Bechdel Center closed that next day, never to reopen.

#Evilcorey's pointless fiction #pointless fiction #my fiction #fiction