#and doesn't even bother to call me by my name anymore

[bigification]

Handlebars

Day 1:

My first day of college was a lot more stressful than I thought it would be. I finally made it to residence last night, which only gave me one night to get settled before classes started. I was nervous to meet my roommate because of all of the horror stories I had heard about them in the past, but it ended up being so much worse than I expected. In my mind, the worst outcome was some lazy douche who never cleaned up after himself. So you can imagine my shock when I knock on the door and a full grown 30 something year old man answers the door.

"Hey, buddy. The names Mike, come on in."

He looked and sounded like a jock in a college movie, but when the actor is actually 30. His voice was deep and buttery, it almost gave me butterflies. I just smiled awkwardly and walked past him through the door.

"I'm Oscar by the way." I introduced myself.

"Cool, I'll just call you Handlebars." He said, without a care in the world.

He sat down on his bed, and that was the extent of our interactions for the day.

Day 7:

It's been a week and all my other worries about roommates came true. Not only is he 15 years older than me, he's a slob. He gets home from the gym drenched in sweat and throws his gym clothes wherever without cleaning them. He doesn't do his dishes, or any chore for that matter. In fact it seems like he intentionally keeps the place dirty after I try to clean it. And whatever musky cologne he wears attacks my nose every time I open the door, it feels like the smell seeps into everything, including my clothes.

The few times that he actually wants a chore to be done, he just asks me to do it, or rather he just tells me to do it. Normally I would be happy to tell him to go fuck himself, but I always find myself doing whatever he asks. I hate it.

"Yo Handlebars, be a doll and clean the dishes for me."

"Yo Handlebars, I ran out of clean gym clothes, mind running em down to the laundry for me."

It's like he's casting a spell whenever he talks.

Day 15:

I've started to settle into routine. The things that used to bother me about Mike seem a bit more trivial now. We've even started to become pretty close. I get enthralled by his conversations about business. He goes on and on about his father's enterprises, and how they'll be his soon.

I even started going to the gym with him lately. He lent me some of his gym clothes, even if they're way too big. It just made me appreciate him more. I never really clocked how jacked he was, sometimes he goes to the gym shirtless and it shows off his massive pecs and thick biceps.

Since joining him, I've noticed my body has improved quite significantly. I used to be skinny and lanky, but there is definition starting to show throughout my body.

Day 30:

Just a month into school and I was already on my way to failing out. I just don't care about it anymore, but Mike gave me a solution. He said I could just switch programs and do business with him, and his dad would even pay for it. How could I pass that up.

Now that I've switched, it's like all stress in my life has disappeared. Business is so easy, and now I have more time with Mike. We usually have a routine of going to the gym after our last class of the day.

"Yo Handlebars, you're lookin strong man. I'd kill to grow as fast as you."

He shouted at me from across the gym, when he caught me staring at myself in the mirror. Butterflies flew through my stomach when he said that. And he wasn't wrong, I've been noticing a lot of changes in my body. My face has matured, my eyebrows are thicker, my nose is bigger, and my jawline is more square. I even have to shave now, when I never had to before college. A five o'clock shadow engulfs my face by the end of the day, especially above my lip. The rest of my body has gotten hairier too, especially around my pecs, arms, and legs. And that's not even mentioning my progress at the gym. I actually look like I belong there, my biceps have a nice roundness to them and my chest actually sticks out from my body. Those gym clothes that Mike gave me look smaller and smaller every day.

Life in the dorms has also been a dream. I've been wearing that cologne that Mike loves, and it's like I unlocked a whole new level of confidence. People seem to love listening to me talk, and people seem to respect me more.

Day 60:

This past month has been the best month of my life. Now that I'm in my mid twenties, I can drink whenever I want. Mike and I go out raves and frat parties basically every night, my body is basically used to every drug at this point. And with Mike's dad paying for college, I literally don't need to show up to lectures and I get straight A's.

"Fuck, bro. I think you're bigger than me Handlebars."

Mike said with a shocked face when we were snapping pics at the gym. We flexed beside each other, and it was obvious. My biceps dwarfed his, and his gym clothes had become really tight on me lately. The shirt was skin tight against my upper body, showing off my juicy pecs and my growing six pack. And the shorts looked like they were about to burst under the pressure of my ass cheeks and thighs, to the point that the outline of my dick was constantly visible.

"Here bro, take this."

Mike handed me a package. It was filled with gym clothes and jocks.

"Just for you Handlebars."

I yanked him in for a bro hug, I could feel myself blushing.

"You got this all for me bro?"

"Fuck yeah, man. You've been grinding it out in the gym, don't think I haven't noticed my clothes straining against those muscles. And you need something to contain that snake in your pants before we get campus security called on us."

Mike chuckled, his laugh was infectious.

Day 100:

I started in the mirror. Sometimes I barely recognize myself. The confident and cocky mask goes away when I'm alone, just leaving the caring gym bro that's on the true inside.

Damn, I think to myself, Mike is making me too sappy. I give myself a cocky smile after shaving my face, leaving me with a thick moustache. I flex, admiring my guns and bouncing my pecs. Man I look good for a man pushing his thirties.

"Fuck, handlebars. Since when were you so hairy?" Mike asked me when I left the bathroom.

"What? Are you jealous I'm manlier than you bro?" I taunted him by opening my button up wider, revealing the thick pelt of hair that covered my body.

"Nah, it's got me feelin something tho." He smirked at me.

"Hah, I fuckin knew it. You want a piece of this." I bounced my pecs.

"Don't make it gay bro, it's not like that. Just a dude admiring another dude." He blushed.

The tension between us had been building for weeks. He would stand too close when spotting me at the gym, and I'd catch him staring at me in the mirror. Not like I haven't been doin it too. We also wear less clothes around the dorm. I still got that jock strap Mike gave me a while back, I'd be lying to myself if I said it fit but I don't care, and it seems like Mike doesn't mind either. And sometimes I wear an open button up just cuz it makes my pecs pop.

Day 120:

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this." Mike whispered in my ear. His breath was heavy as he threw me against the wall. His dick was bouncing with excitement against my ass.

For context, a few hours ago we were at the gym like normal. At this point, we didn't even go to class, it was just gym and parties now. The tension had been growing at the gym forever, sometimes we'd release by foolin around in the showers, but it never went further a quick handjob when no one was lookin. It was different this time, he couldn't keep his hands off me. Broad daylight in a busy gym, his hands would be far down my shorts, teasing.

At first I was dismissive. We already got caught multiple times by campus security, so close to getting kicked out of school. If it wasn't for Mike's dad being a rich alumni, I think both of us would be long gone by now. But he knew how to push my buttons, he always has. I gave in, but had the decency to drag him by the collar to the showers. At least there we could be naked.

Ok, back to the point. I grunted as his thick arms held me in place. Mike had been working extra hard to catch up to me, and it was showin. It turned me on, feelin his muscled forearms against my shoulders. But I wasn't gonna let him win that easily. What Mike seemed to forget was the near decade I spent in the Navy before comin to college.

I whipped around, using the hot water against our skin to slip out from his pin. I pushed his shoulder, sending him tripping over my foot, which I had conveniently placed behind his. I caught him like a damsel in distress, so there was no doubt in his mind who was on top.

Within seconds, it's like my training kicked in and I had him pinned down on his stomach. The bristles of my thick mustache rubbed against the back of his ear as I whispered, "You really thought you could top me?" I asked with a chuckle.

He moaned like a twink when I stuck my cock up his ass. It took a moment for his ass to adjust to takin a beatin rather than dishin one out, but he'll get used to it. The wet fur on my forearm slid across his back as I rode him like a bull. I could almost feel his organs rearrangin to fit my 10 inch rod.

I groaned as I felt months of sexual tension release in seconds, shooting my seed all through Mike's body. He was mine. And by the looks of it, he enjoyed the ride too. A trail of his cum ran from under his pinned body, to the drain in the middle of the showers.

"You're mine."

I whispered in his ear with a shit eatin grin.

"Now clean this mess up before you dare come back to my dorm."

I pushed off his back to get to my feet. I continued rubbing my cock as I walked away, making ropes of cum cover the showers. I walked right out of the showers and into the locker room, making sure to wink at campus security on the way out. Someone always calls them, and we always get away with it Scott free, so I think they gave up. It just feels good to make people know they're beneath you, and to do it while rubbin one out.

I cleaned up and walked alone to my dorm, sat on my couch, and waited for Mike to come back. After a few minutes, he walked in without a word. He walked over to me and laid in my lap as I turned on football. I smelled his hair, making sure he actually cleaned up like I ordered.

"Good boy." I reassured him while massaging his pecs.

Day 150:

I finally moved our stuff out of my shitty dorm. Mikey's father just decided to pay for our diplomas outright, instead of trying to turn all of our F's into A's.

We moved to L.A. and I fuckin love it here. I just walk around in nothin but a jock, and people love me for it. And there are so many entrepreneurs like me, so much money to be made.

Everyone just calls me handlebars, I can't remember the last time anyone called me my name. Now that I think about it, I don't even remember what it was, but who the fuck cares. I'm handlebars, the life of the party and the best fuck in this city.

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: xu minghao

enemies to lovers

'you're not mine but wouldn't you want to be?'

minghao tries is hardest to stay calm but all these higher ups are making it really hard. he turns to look at you and the sight of your hunched back and bitten raw lips makes him boil. are you two friends? no, far from it. minghao is very aware of the whole 'enemies' agenda that is happening between you both, but does he want to see you like this? nervous, agitated, scared? no. fucking hell, no. he wants to see you burning with passion, wants to see that fire in your eyes whenever you two argue - minghao feels like he's been punched in the chest when he realizes that he's ready to kill just for you to not look this scared.

'can we wrap this up?' he voices out loud, not bothering to hide his annoyance. 'i don't see any point in this.'

'it'd be wise for you to be more polite and remember who you are talking to, xu minghao.'

he sees how you cringe at this, how your hands ball up into fists at the way that man spoke to him. understanding that you are angered on his behalf warms minghao up; it feels incredibly nice to know that you care. he keeps his mouth shut, lets managers drag on about the issue and takes two step in your direction, stopping when your shoulders brush. you tense up at first, sending him a questioning glance but he only stays put to which you reply with a rejected sigh. they lecture him and then start lecturing you and minghao can't just stand still when you're obviously fuming. they are being rude to you and the words are out of his mouth before he can think them through: 'don't talk to her like that.' your sharp intake of breath kind of wakes him up and he stares ahead at all the managers, who all look shell shocked.

'you have no right to talk to her like that.' minghao pushes in a clipped tone. 'she did her best and so did i, our timing got fucked up but it's not our fault. don't speak to her in that tone.'

shortly after you get pulled away by other people and minghao is in for another 30 minutes of lecturing. by the time he finally gets out of that stuffy room, he feels like he wasted ten years of his life on nothing. he sighs, stretches and is about to turn when soft steps stop him. he knows it's you even before you call out his name.

'why did you do that?' you ask, squinting at him. 'why the sudden hero act?'

'it wasn't an act,' he says, rolling his eyes. god, he's so tired. 'but you're welcome.'

'i haven't asked for it,' you spit out, obviously angered. 'i don't need your pity.'

minghao turns around, raising his eyebrow. 'i have never pitied you,' he says strongly, feeling himself getting worked up again as some stupid side effect on you being close. 'can't you just say 'thank you' and move on?'

'i don't need your help!' you hiss. 'i haven't asked for it!'

and - only you can make minghao want to both bang his head on the wall from frustration and laugh like a maniac. he sometimes wants to step closer, pull you into his arms and... he doesn't know. part of him wants to strangle you for being so damn difficult all the fucking time, but another part wants to smash your mouths together so you can finally shut up. minghao is aware of how unhealthy it is just as he is aware of how often your gaze falls on his lips or his biceps. it's good to know he's not the only one who's gone mad. they say it's a fine line between hatred and love and for minghao right now this line is so thin that he barely see it anymore. is it the same for you? he wants to ask, but instead he says: 'why you didn't stop me then? you always could just interrupt me over there but you didn't say a thing. if you don't need my help why i was the one who you turned to when authorities came? you didn't say anything but you searched for me with your eyes, don't even try to deny it.'

five steps. that's the distance that separates you two and minghao thinks it's fitting. he can take two and then you can take two and then maybe you'll play game of chicken on that last step. but you surprise him with taking all those five steps yourself, storming onto him with fire in your eyes that he loves so much. 'you're not the one to talk, minghao. you think i don't know that it was you who asked everyone to wait up for me? who brought medicine to my team when i fell sick?' you try to push him on his chest but minghao easily catches you wrist in his, not letting you move. 'let me go.'

'that's not what you want.' he says in a calm tone that doesn't show all the hurricane which's happening inside of him.

reality of how close you two are standing dawns on you. jerkily, you try to step back but his hold on you is too strong. 'let me go,' you whisper, voice wavering. 'hao, let me go.'

hao. 'that's not what you want,' minghao whispers and lets his other hand wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to his chest. 'tell me what you really want, angel.' he sees how you shudder at the petname and smiles, leaning in. he lets go of your wrist, locking his arms around you instead. 'you can go if you want.' he leans in, brushing your noses together. 'or you can stay. and i can never, ever let you go. which i think is what you actually want.'

it's brave. it's bold, it's brazen and - it works. your body sags in his arms and you hide your face in his neck, hugging him back. 'prick,' you mutter into his neck, raising goosebumps where your lips touch his skin. 'self absorbed asshole.'

'yeah,' minghao easily agrees, hugging you tighter. 'prick, self absorbed asshole that i will never, ever let you go.'

a/n: this one is a bit vague but i couldn't figure out how to write this for the live of me. i hope this was okay? let me know! - nini

my seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

[saintsgrrl]

bro istg I'm getting way too stressed

[homunculus-argument]

Sometimes in therapy I feel like I don't have trauma in some correct sort of way. Like I'll be explaining that my childhood wasn't even really traumatic, just kind of bleak and boring. The worst my parents ever made me feel was disappointed, but not surprised. it was all so very mundane. And whenever some therapist asks me what I mean, I'll tell some random story that I happen to remember off the top of my head of what my childhood was like, or one that I think illustrated what kind of people my parents were and what their relationship was like.

Like this one time I remember when I was like 10 or so, I can't remember where we were going but the whole family was getting into the car, and dad started bitching at mom about how come when their first car was in his name, it was their car, and then when they had their own cars they had his car and her car, but now that they only have one car again, it's still just her car.

And then mom bitterly pointed out that the reason why he doesn't have a company benefit car anymore is because he lost his lisence for driving drunk with the kids on board while she was on a business trip. (And while mom didn't bring it up at the time, he had also tried to cover this up and act like nothing had happened. And she wouldn't have found out if my (11/12-year-old at the time?) sister hadn't thought of calling one of mom's friends like "hey cops showed up and took dad so we're home alone now idk what we're supposed to do now" and she came to watch us and told mom.)

...And I was like 10 and sitting quietly on the back seat listening to them bickering about this because they still both bothered to be mad about it. Not mad enough to get divorced or anything, but still bitter enough to bitch at each other about each other. And a therapist will be like wow how did that make you feel, and ???

Bored of it? Disappointed, but not surprised? That was just what life was like. Quietly waiting for bitter adults to be done bickering with each other because you can't do anything to fix this and while they could, they won't do anything to improve their lives. Life was just like that.

[yuujispinkhair]

Bad Boy - Good Toy

Sukuna is used to girls throwing themselves at him, begging him to dominate them. He never met any resistance. He never met any challenge. Until he meets you, and suddenly, the bad boy becomes nothing but a willing fucktoy.

There is now a Part 02

Pairing: Sub!Sukuna x Dom!Reader (female) Genre: smut, College AU Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, degradation, humiliation, edging, exhibitionism, voyeurism, smoking, mentions of drugs, sharing chewing gum, facesitting, squirting, abs-riding, overstimulation, Sukuna cums untouched, piss (Reader pees on Sukuna to humiliate him, and he likes it). Reader calls Sukuna slut, fucktoy and fuckdoll. Unhealthy relationship dynamics. Reader and Sukuna don't talk about limits or safe words. Sukuna is ok with everything Reader does to him, but please be aware that this isn't the way a sub/dom relationship is supposed to be in real life. I just wanted things to be a bit fucked up in this story ;) Divider @/benkeibear

Sukuna is bored. So fucking bored. Bored with college in general, bored of the parties that are always the same, bored of the drugs that don't give him the kick he craves anymore. Even sex is boring nowadays. He sighs as his gaze brushes over the girl kneeling between his spread legs. He didn't bother asking for her name. He thinks she might be in his history course. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

He doesn't even bother to hide from view, letting her suck him off in the back of the dimly lit living room on some ratty couch, while a few meters away, people are dancing and drinking and singing along to songs that Sukuna hates. She is eager, bopping her mouth on his dick enthusiastically, humming around him, and hollowing her cheeks like a champ. But he feels nothing at all. He isn't even sure he can cum tonight. It's like he is numb to everything. The nameless girl moans around his dick, and Sukuna grabs his phone to send his brother a message.

Where are you, brat? I want to leave.

He doesn't get a reply and instead checks his group chats and e-mails while the girl between his legs slurps loudly on his tip. Sukuna huffs in annoyance and lets his bored gaze travel through the room. It lands on a girl in a red t-shirt who is looking in his direction. You are sipping your drink casually while you unashamedly watch him getting his dick sucked.

It makes him grin broadly. Finally, a little bit of entertainment. Maybe he will manage to cum just to give that little voyeur a good show. And afterward, he can take you to one of the bedrooms and fuck you. Or maybe do it right here on that couch, too.

He winks at you. A smile spreads over your face, but it's not the smile Sukuna usually sees on the faces of the girls he plans to fuck. It's the kind of smile he sees in the mirror. A smile that means trouble. His cock twitches, and he groans softly.

He doesn't break eye contact, and neither do you. Sukuna raises an eyebrow challengingly, smirking at you, daring you to come over while he gets his dick sucked. His stomach flips when you really start walking towards him.

Sukuna's pulse accelerates when you stop right next to him. You let your gaze travel from his face down to his cock, watching it bop in and out of that other girl's mouth. You chuckle. It's not a nice sound.

"Aww, do you have problems cumming, Sukuna? Is your dick not working?"

For a stunned second, Sukuna just blinks at you, mouth hanging open. The resident bad boy rendered speechless for the first time in his life. And then he throws his head back and laughs, and simultaneously, he feels his balls tighten.

"If you get on all fours, I will show you just how good my dick works, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms in front of your breasts, looking at him with a bored and unimpressed expression.

"What makes you think I would let you get anywhere near me with that dick of yours. I don't want dirty, good-for-nothing sluts like you."

"What did you just call me?"

But his response lacks the bite. Instead, he sounds breathless, and his hand tightens on the couch as his cock twitches in the other girl's mouth. Fuck, it feels so good all of a sudden.

You smile that dangerous smile again and lean closer, your flowery perfume filling Sukuna's nose, and you repeat your words to him, slowly, overly accentuated as if he is stupid,

"Dirty. Good-for-nothing. Slut."

A raw groan spills from Sukuna's throat, and his hips buck off the couch, making the girl between his legs choke on his cock, as he nuts so hard into her mouth that she's spluttering his cum everywhere.

He stares wide-eyed at your smug face as the gears in his mind shift at lightspeed. What the fuck just happened?

The girl between his legs climbs onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, and tries to kiss him, but Sukuna turns his face to the side, looking at you instead,

"Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?"

"Why? Enjoyed it too much, and now you are scared of how your body betrayed you, little slut?"

You laugh and turn around, walking away while you lift a hand in a mocking little wave, and Sukuna stares after you with his mind whirling and his cock still throbbing.

He wakes up the next morning with a strange feeling in his gut. Something is different.

And after a moment, he realizes what it is when the memories from last night come back, and his eyes widen, and a whispered curse falls from his lips. The encounter with you replays in his mind just like it did countless times before he managed to fall asleep last night. Your cruel smile and the sadistic glint in your eyes. The way his body reacted to it.

He is so used to everyone cowering before him. So used to everyone submitting to him so willingly. All those countless girls throwing themselves at him, begging him to please let them suck his dick, obeying his every command, asking him if they can please call him daddy during fucking.

He never met any resistance. He never met any challenge. One look from him and the girls were practically on their backs with their legs spread like some animal in heat.

No one ever talked to him the way you did. Or looked at him that way. As if he is worthless trash in your eyes. Your words resonate in his brain. "You dirty, good-for-nothing slut."

Fuck! It turns him on. It makes him achingly hard even now. He turns onto his back and shoves a hand into his pants. He jerks off so furiously that his wrist hurts, making a huge mess all over himself when he cums to the thought of you calling him a useless brat.

Sukuna isn't the same man he was 24 hours ago.

He totally doesn't look for you on campus on Monday morning. It is totally a coincidence that he slides up to you when you pull out a package of strawberry bubble gum from the vending machine. It's definitely not like he followed you around like a puppy for a whole hour until he finally got his shit together and decided to approach you.

"Strawberry flavor, huh? Wouldn't have thought that a foul person like you would pick such a sweet flavor."

You eye him lazily, eyes never leaving his as you tear open the packaging and put one of the pastel pink bubble gums into your mouth before you grace him with a reply.

"Oh, shut up. An attitude like that doesn't fit a pretty boy like you. Learn to behave, and then we can talk again."

Sukuna feels his lips lift in his trademark smirk as that weird, exhilarating sensation fills his veins again. He is enjoying himself far too much. He braces himself against the vending machine, his large hands on both sides of your face, caging you in, towering over you, while he smirks down at you.

But you don't seem intimidated at all by his height and muscular figure and the tattoos on his face. Instead, you smile at him and cock your head to the side, eyeing him expectantly as if you are waiting for him to do something.

He leans down, bringing his face closer to yours.

"Can I have a gum too? Please? See, I can behave very well."

His voice has dropped to his usual flirty, seductive tone, which he always uses on girls. The tone that always drives them crazy and makes them drop their panties faster than they can say his name.

You flutter your lashes exaggeratedly at him, smiling a sickeningly fake angelic smile as you open your mouth and pull out your gum.

"Ok, you can have one since you asked so politely. Open up, slut."

He laughs when you push the used gum to his lips, but Sukuna isn't one to back down, so he grabs your small hand, wraps his tattooed hand around your wrist, and opens his mouth. He licks your fingers, lets his tongue-piercing glide over your fingertips, and sucks the used bubble gum into his mouth.

You gaze deeply into his eyes, looking amused.

"You didn't even say thank you, Sukuna. You are still such a useless and rude brat."

You turn on your heel and leave him standing there like some rejected loser, and he chews the gum that tastes like strawberry and your spit and feels his cock twitch against his sweatpants.

Sukuna sees you again on Saturday at another party. Two girls danced with him and asked him if he wanted to fuck them both upstairs in one of the bedrooms, but he turned them down, not even able to grasp why.

Until he walks into the kitchen and sees you. And suddenly, things fall into place.

Why bother with those random girls when the one he really wants is you? You are the only one who poses a challenge. The only one who makes his skin tingle with excitement. The only one who makes him feel like he is still alive and not some fucking ghost.

He leans against the fridge and watches you while he lights a cigarette. He smokes it in silence, just smirking at you and hoping you will come over and call him a slut again. Or any other degrading name you can think of. Sukuna isn't picky.

You walk over to him, a few drags into his cigarette, and stop in front of him, so close that he can smell your sweet perfume again. And you smile that smile that isn't sweet at all as you reach up and take the cigarette from Sukuna's lips. Your eyes never leave his as you bring his half-smoked cigarette to your mouth, wrapping your lips with the red lipstick around the filter right where Sukuna's lips were a moment ago, and the sight is so sexy to him that Sukuna has to bite his lip not to moan.

You take a deep drag, and your eyes close for a moment as the nicotine fills your senses before they open again to gaze up at Sukuna through your long lashes, grinning as you slowly blow the smoke right into Sukuna's face.

He laughs, pushing himself off the fridge, stepping closer to you, so close that his hips brush against you,

"You know what that means, right princess? Blowing smoke in someone's face?"

"Who doesn't know that?"

You roll your eyes and look at him as if he is stupid, and he can't help but place his large hands on your waist and drawl in his best bedroom voice,

"So, you admit you want to fuck me?"

You smirk back at him as you push his hands off your waist, sounding dismissive when you shrug and say,

"You have a pretty face and a good body. And I am horny right now. So why not? And you are probably a good fuck, with all that practice you had."

"What makes you so sure I want to fuck you?"

"Oh, don't be silly. You won't say no. A slut like you never does. Everyone knows you are easy."

Sukuna doesn't bother telling you that he just turned down two hot chicks half an hour ago. He lets you grab his hand and pull him along, and he follows you with a broad smirk on his tattooed face.

His cock is already pressing against his jeans when his crotch brushes over your ass when you pull him up the stairs. His mind is hazy, thoughts clouded over by lust, finally feeling that sweet, exciting buzzing again that he missed so much.

You pull him into one of the bedrooms, yank off his t-shirt, and push him onto the bed. Or you try to. You push against his broad chest, not able to move him an inch, but he plays along and lets himself fall onto the bed, looking up at you with heavy-lidded maroon eyes and his throbbing erection leaking pre-cum into his pants like some pathetic little virgin before his first fuck.

Sukuna licks his lips when he watches you reach under your skirt and take off your panties. That's the only thing you take off before you join him on the bed, straddling his thighs, making him smirk at you like the devil that he is,

"So eager to get my cock inside you that you can't even be bothered to get naked, princess?"

"Shut up, slut. Good boys don't talk unless I allow it."

Your little hands are on his belt, opening it, unbuttoning his jeans, and pulling down the zipper, making Sukuna's hips twitch when your hand rubs over his boxer-clad erection. He knows he is acting pathetic right now, cock so eager, already staining the fabric of his boxer briefs with a ridiculously huge amount of pre-cum. But fuck it, he is finally turned on again, finally excited to fuck again after all those months of feeling bored.

He pushes his hard cock against your hand, but you pull away again, smiling that devilish smile at him as you crawl on top of him.

Sukuna laughs breathlessly when you hover above his face, letting him know what you want from him. His large hands reach out to run slowly up the back of your thighs before they cup your ass cheeks, and he pulls you down onto his face.

He groans when your hot wet pussy settles on his tattooed face. Fuck, he always heard his brother go on and on about how hot he finds it when a girl sits on his face with a skirt and no panties. Sukuna had never found it so fascinating until now. Until it is you, and you tell him in that emotionless voice,

"Get to work, my little slut. If you make me squirt, you will get a reward."

He turns his face and moans against your inner thigh, leaving a kiss there,

"And what will my reward be?"

"I'll allow you to cum."

Allow him to cum?

Fuck. The words alone make Sukuna throb in his boxer briefs, another pearl of pre-cum leaking out of him.

"Then stop acting like a squeamish virgin and sit on my face for real."

"I told you to shut up, brat."

"Then shut me up with your pussy."

Sukuna grabs your ass cheeks tightly and pulls you down further, making you sit on his face for real. He isn't just a good fuck. He is the best fuck, and he will prove it to you!

He sucks your little swollen clit into his mouth and laughs when you gasp loudly. You grab his hair, tugging on it, making him groan as the slightly painful sensation goes directly to his throbbing cock. And he spoils your pussy like the slut that he is. Teases your clit with the stiff tip of his tongue and pushes the metal ball of his tongue piercing under the hood of your clit until you tremble and moan loudly.

He gets really into it, fucks you with his tongue and sucks savagely on your clit, eats you so good that it only takes a few minutes until you let out a high-pitched squeal and buck wildly against his face.

Hot, sticky liquid gushes over his lips, and you rock against him, voice breathless but still so stern,

"Open your eyes. Watch me cum all over your pretty face. Yeah, take it all, you little slut. Drink it all up."

Sukuna's eyes meet yours, and he moans, and his hips buck involuntarily, cock so desperate that he is rutting against thin air while pulsing pre into his boxer briefs.

He drinks you up, pushes his pierced tongue deeply into your twitching pussy, and licks it all up, basking in the way you mewl his name for a split second before you regain control and run a hand through his tousled pink hair, smoothing it down again,

"You are a good little fucktoy, Sukuna. Well done."

Sukuna's cock throbs at your words, and he blinks in surprise. Ok, so it's not just degradation that gets him excited, but also praise? Well, he is so fucked. So thoroughly fucked, and he loves every second of it!

You climb off his face, kneeling on the bed beside him, and let your small hands trail down Sukuna's defined pecs and his taut abs, following his tattoos down to the hem of his boxer briefs.

"You have such a nice body, Sukuna. The perfect little fucktoy. And what about that pretty cock? Is he perfect too, hm?"

A breathy gasp falls from his lips when you run a single finger over the thick bulge in his boxer briefs, slowly running up and down his whole throbbing length. Just a light, teasing touch, but it makes his vision blurry and pulls a desperate-sounding whine from his mouth.

It's so fucking humiliating. He's making such pathetic noises. But he simply can't bring himself to care. Not when he finally feels alive again when he is with you. His low voice is thick with need when he whispers,

"You said you would make me cum."

"Uh uh, I didn't say I would make you cum, sweetheart. I said I will allow you to cum. Let's see how things will go. Let's see how excited my little fucktoy will get. Don't forget what you are here for, Sukuna, baby. You are in this bed to serve me."

"Fuck..."

It takes all of Sukuna's willpower to not shove a hand into his boxer briefs and relieve that fucking pressure.

You straddle him again, sit on his abs this time, rubbing yourself on them, making him gasp when he feels how wet and hot your pussy is and how you spread your cream all over him. It's sexy. Nasty, just as he likes it.

Sukuna can see your face now, and it makes his chest fill with elation when he sees the fucked out expression on your face as you slide over his firm abs, rubbing your little clit against his hard muscles, your eyes closing and lips hanging open dumbly when you moan so sweetly and twitch on his stomach, reaching another orgasm on him.

He could sneak a hand behind you, could jack off behind your back, but he doesn't do it. He wants to be your good little toy.

You don't stop but keep rutting against him, your fingernails digging into the swell of Sukuna's pecs, leaving their crescent-moon-shaped marks there as you abuse your puffy clit further on his abs.

And Sukuna grabs your hips and helps you ride his abs, grinning as he hears your harsh breathing and feels you starting to tense up again. Another loud squeal tumbles out of your mouth, and Sukuna is about to taunt you for being so horny for him that you cum on him three times in a row when he feels something hot and wet on his abs, much more than during your other two orgasms.

You hum and grind against him as more wetness flows out of you and onto Sukuna's stomach, warm and sweet-smelling, and Sukuna's gaze snaps to yours in understanding.

You laugh and rub yourself against him, smiling that devilish smile as you pee on him. And he can't hold back the loud moan falling from his lips, can't stop his cock from twitching, almost cumming in his boxer briefs.

"You like that, you fucking pervert? Yeah, Sukuna? You like getting peed on? Well, I have more for you, my nasty boy."

You slide off him, hands grabbing his boxer briefs and pulling them down, finally freeing his aching cock. Sukuna groans when it springs up, bouncing lightly, rock-hard, pre-cum dripping down from it onto his abs.

You throw one leg over his thighs, kneeling over his stiff cock, and then more piss rains down from your hot cunt and onto Sukuna's cock.

And Sukuna moans and curses loudly as his back arches off the bed, and he cums all over himself, untouched, shooting hot ropes of cum out of his tip, all over his abs, and over your cunt that's hovering above him.

His vision goes black for a moment, and his breath comes out in loud, harsh huffs, his whole body shaking from the intensity of his orgasm. He thinks he never came so hard in his life.

You laugh and finally sit down on Sukuna's twitching cock, letting it glide between your wet folds, making him buck against you. But you don't let him push inside you. You just rub your wet cunt slowly over his spent length, watching with an amused smile as you milk every last spurt of cum out of Sukuna while you let more pee trickle over his cock, mixing his cum with your piss.

Sukuna's heart is beating so fast that he feels lightheaded. And the overstimulation makes him sob, makes his oversensitive cock ache and twitch, but oh, how he craves this sweet pain. He lets his head fall back on the pillow, letting more low moans spill from his lips, eyes closing as he pushes his slowly softening cock between your pussy lips, whimpering softly anytime that delicious pain pulses in his length.

He doesn't know how long it takes before you stop moving on him and slip off his lap. But he sighs when the sticky heat of your cunt leaves his cock.

The bed creaks as you crawl up to him to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, whispering in his ear,

"You are such a mess, Sukuna. Such a cute mess for me. I'm excited to see what else you can give me, my little fuckdoll."

You leave him lying there on top of the blanket, his cock pulsing hotly from the overstimulation, mind hazy with post-coital bliss, chest heaving with heavy breaths, skin sticky from his cum, and your squirt and pee.

It's disgusting, and he should feel embarrassed, but he can't help but moan softly as a small smile creeps over his face. Sukuna feels satisfied like he hasn't felt in months. He hopes you will use him again as your personal fucktoy very soon.

FUCKTOY SUKUNA, I WANT YOU 💗💗 I wrote the first draft of this story a while ago and then thought I wouldn't dare publish it because it's too nasty, but I changed my mind, lol. I hope it was ok and that my fellow sub!Sukuna enjoyers accept this treat ;)

There will be a second part!! The story got too long, and there would have been too many sex scenes, so I decided to split it.

Thank you so much for reading 💗 Reblogs and comments would be very sweet!

HERE IS PART 02

[sqtorux]

saying somethin' stupid like 'i love you'

fwb!gojo saying the forbidden L word during the deed ????

slightly nsfw, minors please don't interact. also fluff bc i miss gojo :(

not proof read !

thankyou so much for all the support on my recent ♡

satoru thinks you're so cruel. one minute you're holding onto him, nails digging into his back as if you needed him to live.

chanting his name so so beautifully as he trapped you between his bare body and the bed, relentlessly thrusting into you.

and then the next you were back to acting like even his mere existence irritated you. in a way it does but not in the way he thinks.

not once had you been there the morning after. only the crumpled sheets and your nail marks served as reminders that you were here, with him.

“gojo can you not-”

“that wasn't what you called me last night. what happened to toru?”

you glare daggers at him as one of his hand held your notebook high up. he was ridiculously tall and he liked abusing that privilege. especially against you.

“shut up” you walk past him without bothering to take your book.

“hey you mad baby?” he chuckled, getting in front of you, stopping you again.

“come on, answer me. why'd you leave? i thought we agreed to go to class together hmm?”

you roll your eyes at him and crossed your arms.

“that's what you said. i didn't agree.”

“aw you're too mean” he pouted as you scowl and try passing him again only to be stopped by his hand on your arm.

“i wanted you to stay.” his words were heavy, his face not showing even the slightest bit of his shit eating grin he always has on.

he turns to you, his round sunglasses were low on his nose and you could see his oh so beautiful eyes.

you look away because if you don't, you were pretty sure you'd be hypnotised and you'd do whatever he wanted.

“if you keep doing this i won't stay over anymore.” your words shot a painful jab at your own abdomen. his grip around you loosened slowly until he lets go completely.

“alright then.” he hands you your notebook, more like placed them into your arms as he walked away, eyes never meeting yours.

the next ‘sleepover’ took place three days after the banter with satoru. he hadn't called or texted the whole time but when you asked if he was up for it, he replied almost immediately.

so here you were again, him ramming into you as you cling onto his bare body for dear life. you could feel your climax coming as your grip grew tighter and tighter.

satoru was the same, chasing his high. he had missed you a lot the past three days but tried distancing himself just so his feelings for you would simmer down.

it only resulted him thinking about you all day and even more during the night. he finds himself wishing you were here with him, either giving you the pleasure you both agreed upon or just you laying down next to him. he didn't care.

he just wanted you to be there. with him.

and now that you are, his heart clenches the way you clench around him as the both of you cummed simultaneously.

he holds your body tight as you both work your way through the orgasm, euphoria rushing through both your veins.

“fuck y/n…” he groaned as he felt your grip loosen. he can't let you go just yet.

“i love you”

he hadn't meant to say it really. not like this at least.

“satoru we've been through this-” you push him weakly but he stays grounded, eyes boring into yours.

“i mean it.” he says, one of his hands found themselves caressing your cheeks as the other supported him while he hovered above you.

“you don't have to say it back or… feel it back…” satoru's voice was full of emotion.

“but just give me a chance to show you how much i love you. then we can work things out from there.”

you find yourself falling into the charms of gojo satoru. it's not everyday he offers his heart to someone. he doesn't offer it at all but now here he is, handing it to you on a silver platter.

“alright”

you could see satoru's face visibly light up and his blue eyes gleammed. he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“thankyou” he traced his fingers on your jaw, his touch so soft, so addicting.

“you better treat me like a princess” you chuckle as he physically melted at the sound.

“oh i plan to do exactly that, and more, lovely.” he leaned down to place another kiss on your lips.

[dreameralive]

i think one of the most noteworthy things about Blaise that i haven't really seen anyone discuss is his tendency to liken others to children, his weaponization of it, its relation to him being a child abuser, and its relation to his defeat.

one of his first lines of dialogue, before he even introduces himself, is him humiliating Franziska by calling her 'little von Karma', and then bringing up something retroactively embarrassing she did as a little girl.

he frames this as genuine nostalgia, but to me, it's pretty clear this was a purposeful, and almost sadistic, powerplay.

there's also these lines. these aren't too strange, out of context - "let's all play nice" is a relatively common phrase, and in the second screenshot where he's discussing Kay and Edgeworth's friendship, they are literally youths (well, compared to him). but in context, it's clear that this is part of him attempting to assert his dominance over everyone else.

he wants to let everyone know that he is the adult here, and all they are is children - and thereby, they are completely powerless to his end-all authority, so they shouldn't even bother attempting to resist. this is further emphasized during his logic chess segment.

he calls Edgeworth 'my boy', he reminds him that he is his 'senior in life', he tells him he's being naïve. he threatens to never give back his prosecutors badge if he doesn't stop trying to question his authority. he asks him, mockingly, if he's scared. then, while grinning, he tells him that there is nothing he can do, and he should give up already.

he once again, more blatantly this time, is attempting to force someone else into accepting that they are the weaker party and that he could do anything he pleased to them, and once again, he is weaponizing the societal power imbalance between a child and an adult to do so.

i could go on and on for a while with more examples of this, but then that would make this post really long and rambly. so, instead, i'm going to discuss what his behavior ultimately results in.

this is probably one of the most disturbing interactions in Ace Attorney.

he does this purely so Sebastian will feel humiliated and ashamed in front of his colleagues, people he respects and who in turn are supposed to respect him. he does this to remind Sebastian that he is his father, and Sebastian is his child. to Blaise, that means he has complete control over him. and until this point? he actually does.

he has controlled every aspect of Sebastian's life to be exactly how he wants it. his path in life, his school, his tests - even Sebastian's constant usage of his surname serves as a reminder that Sebastian's only purpose to his father is to be an extension of him, a tool to feed into his ego. an object. something he owns.

note how, in their sprites, Sebastian is typically tilting his head slightly downwards, and in his crying sprites, he's leaning down. meanwhile Blaise stands high, and in his grinning sprites, his head is tilted up, as to literally look down on the person he's talking to.

but in the end, right before Blaise is convicted, right as Blaise tells him he should just remain his idiot son, Sebastian is looking up as he tells him goodbye. a way of saying that he's not beneath him, and he won't let him act like it anymore.

Blaise is immediately infuriated by this, and says all you've ever been able to do is depend on me. he screams Sebastian's name in anger - but it's cut off.

in fact, there is no more dialogue from Blaise after this. because he has no more authority, no more ability to scare Sebastian or anyone else into submission. in the end, Sebastian has finally taken back his autonomy that Blaise has robbed him of. so has Kay. so has Simon. all of them are children he has mistreated, threatened, and jerked around for his own selfish gain, but ultimately, they all still have more power over their own lives than he ever will again.

there's a lot more i could say on this, but these are all my thoughts i could organize. thanks for reading.

[shhuuga]

I love how we as a society established that nanami would give the most slobbery, toe curling, eye rolling,hair straightening head ever.

Bless us with a nanami fic perchance?

u had me a nanami girl.. that's my baby dad fr

BE HOME @ SIX.

🍬 ?? [ nanami x black!fem!wife!reader ]

🍬 .. [ you send nanami a dirty text at work and face the reprocussions, head until u cry <3 ]

🍬 !! [ crying kynk, pleasure dom! nanami (we been knew) ]

nanami's cock strained against his pants. what were you doing? you knew he was at work, you knew that! so why in the world was he staring at a picture of your naked tits in the illuminated mirror of your bathroom?? and why on earth would you have to put that little pout on your face like he was in the wrong?

nanami had too many questions and not enough answers, but he knew one thing for sure. he was not gonna be late.

♡ nami : Be home @ six.

the door clicks shut and nanami doesn't bother calling out to you because you're probably somewhere hiding from him and he knows that. he checks the bedroom, nope. bathroom? not there either. finally, he decides to stop beating around the bush and step into his home office, where you're sitting on his desk with nothing but a pair of snow white stockings on.

"you look.." kento starts removing his tie and jacket, sauntering across the room before dropping to his knees in from of you. "fucking beautiful."

he takes one leg over his shoulder, caressing your thigh all the way to your ankle with his mouth before giving you love bites the rest of the way up your leg. he stops just short of your glistening cunt, his cool breath blowing onto your warm clit.

the hand on your thigh moves to your boob, squeezing and massaging as the other joins. he takes both his hands and pulls your nipples, rolling them in his fingers. with both thighs on his shoulders, nanami connects his mouth to your clit, immediately rolling it in his tongue.

nanami is an expert with head. roll, suck, c-o-c-o-n-u-t and etcetera. he spits with pinpoint precision on your pussy just to rub his nose and mouth all over you too collect it back into his mouth. he looks up at you through his blond lashes, curling your clit in his tongue with a smile on his face like he isn't damn near killing you right now.

your chest heaves as you nudge his head away from your pussy, broken cries of his name fall from your mouth upon deaf ears. instead of listening to your pleas, nanami lies you on your back, holding your neck with one hand while massaging your body with the other, his mouth bringing pain and pleasure to your brain like little fireworks.

even when you exclaim that you can't take it anymore, even when you squirt all over his work shirt, even when his glasses are well wet and steamed and his hair is messy from being pulled every which way by you, he doesn't stop. your little scandalous picture got you 2 hours and nearly 10 orgasms worth of punishment and yet, nanami has a feeling this will happen again.

written by @shhuuga [08/25/24] all rights reserved. do not copy, steal or translate my writing.

[lufyuu]

Protagonist's wants

Tws: fucking in someone else's house, semi public.

Description: a drabble showing why River is one of 2 freaky ocs of mine

River quite literally doesn't give a fuck where the two of you are. If he's horny, he'll fuck you. This is almost common knowledge for you at this point even if it's only been a couple months since the two of you got together. He takes 'anytime, anywhere' seriously. The only drawback from this is that he's quite the childish fellow. If he wants it, he better get it! This became quite obvious one starry night.

Almost everyone's been invited to Kevin's party. The popular jock everyone knew and loved. Well, maybe not the second part but still! His parties are known to be lively and fun, who would want to miss it? Apparently River does.

"I'm not going", he states while paying little attention to what you just said. Just like any other normal person, you shrug it off. If he isn't going, then you'll just have to go with your friends. "Alright", was all you answered as you made yourself toast as a light snack. With the party starting in just an hour or two, you figured it'd be best to eat a bit now, get ready, and then call up your friends to pick you up. The toaster clicks, indicating your toast is ready. While being careful, you grab it out of the toaster and take a bite. It crunches as you do. River who has been focused on his phone while sitting on the couch, turns around to look at you. Or rather, the piece of toast. "Let me have a bite", you take a few more bites before giving him what's left of it. More like you shove it into his open mouth. Either way, he chews and swallows it. As he's still on his phone, he doesnt notice you going to his bedroom to "borrow" an outfit. He's a pretty stylish guy so nothing can go wrong. You open his closet and immediately spot one that catches your eye. Of course, you take it out and change into it. He wouldn't mind his boyfriend borrowing his clothes, would he?

You admire yourself in the mirror. His outfit fits and suits you like a glove! Practically made just for you. You can't help but take a picture! You finish getting ready and exit the room looking as good as ever. Probably even better. This time, River notices you and puts his phone to the side. "Are those my clothes?", he recognizes it to which you just nod, paying no mind. River, still confused, asks "are you going to the party??", as if it's the most confusing thing he's ever heard. "Well yeah, my friends will pick me up", you grab whatever you need and are about to head out when River stops you in your tracks. "Tell them you don't need them to pick you up, I'm going", he gets up from the couch and strolls over to his room.

Moments later, he comes out looking fresh. His hair isnt a mess anymore, his outfit makes him look expensive. He strides over to the counter and grabs his keys. "Get in the car", he walks towards the car and grabs your wrist, dragging you with him. You don't even have a say in the whole arrangement. Before you even knew it, the two of you arrive at the party.

The partying crowd notices River's car and Kevin immediately goes up to the window. River doesn't bother to roll it down, he's not a big fan of his Jock personality. Even though it's muffled, you can hear Kevin's voice from outside the vehicle, "hey Riverrr, I'm glad you finally showed up! It's the first time you've ever came", he's all giddy about the fact River Sterling came to his party. He'd always invited the latter but River had always declined or just a no show. It's quite rare to see him at a party. Kevin has you to thank. If it werent for you coming, River would have stayed home doing God knows what.

When the two of you step into the large house, it was clear nobody's going to leave the place sober. "[Name]? There you are!", one of your friends comes up to you, followed by the others, "y'know, we were really confused when you suddenly told us to not pick you up", he sighs, "we thought you'd abandoned us! But turns out you're here with your boyfriend", your other friend, Erie, looks at River up and down, jokingly rolling her eyes at him. "Well, we'll be stealing your boyfriend away now!", she says before grabbing your wrist and running deeper into the house with the whole friendgroup following not too far behind, leaving River dumbfounded. Though, it's not long that he's snapped out of his trance as a group of people gather around him seeing as his boyfriend's gone to have some fun. "River, let's have a few drinks", someone says, holding a shot a bit too close to his lips. Gosh, it reminds River why he hates parties.

You, on the other hand, are having lots of fun. It's the first time in a while since you've last felt so free. It really doesnt hurt to let loose a little sometimes. Gossiping like there's no tomorrow while munching on some fries. There's no crowd gathering around you, only a handful of your close friends. "Literally I saw our Chemistry professor being lovey dovey with Ms Miller", "the Biology teacher!?", "isn't he with the dance teacher??", everyone takes their turn in sharing their knowledge of the situation. You only sit back and enjoy hearing the things being said.

After an hour or two, Evie heads to get to know a few underclassmen and upperclassmen while the others head to get some more snacks. You're the only one on the couch, enjoying some fruit punch. Despite the loud music, you find yourself relaxing a bit, to the point you close your eyes. Through the loud music, you can hear an even noiser sound coming from behind. When you turn around, you see a crowd. They're almost tripping one another just to get the attention of someone. 'He can deal with it', you think to yourself, already knowing who's in the middle of all this. He must be used to all this attention. "Agh! Please let me through!", it's not very often you see River struggling in the middle of a crowd. The last time you saw him in one, he looked relaxed and was frankly enjoying the attention. Look at him now, struggling to get through. You can't help but let out a small laugh before turning back around to enjoy the rest of your beverage.

[Love Quest!]

Even though you've seen this window a lot, it still baffles you whenever you see it. Especially when you're out no less! There's no way to complete the quest, this is crazy! "River you jerk!", you turn to curse at him but he's no longer there, instead, you feel a hand grabbing your wrist. "Hey, let's get out of here", you hear a whisper as you get pulled roughly. Obviously it's River but it really is a wonder how fast it took him to get to you. You almost trip while trying to keep up with River's pace, it's as if he's in a rush to find something. Fortunately for the two of you, nobody follows behind.

The two of you arrive in an empty, dark and somewhat quiet room where he pins you to the wall, "River! What are you even thinking!", you yell at him, looking up to face him eye to eye, "fucking hell, I thought I was going to go crazy", he continues, "this is why I hate parties", he's most likely referring to the fact he was being surrounded and chased down almost the whole time he's been at the party. In hindsight it was definitely not something to laugh about. "Then let's leave okay? I'm sorry for making you come here", you suggest, trying to get out of his grip but he doesnt let go, "an apology wont do it, didn't you see that window?", he points at the window that is on your right, gosh you almost forgot about if it werent for him pointing that out, "we can complete it at home–", "no, since we're in an empty room now, I say we finish it right now", his tone leaves no room for retaliation. The protagonist will always get what he wants, even if it's a good fucking in someone else's hallway.

With your hands being pinned to the wall and your ass left completely exposed to River, he has an easy time thrusting into you. You face the wall, trying to hold in your moans in order not to be discovered by the people partying away downstairs by biting your lip. Rivers thrusts are relentless in their attack. He groans and even lets out a few quiet moans, completely shameless. Usually you wouldnt be this worried about being discovered as River puts an invisible barrier between the two of you and the rest but this time he decided to not do that and risk the chance of the two of you being caught fucking while there's a party going on. "R-River please.. I cant keep holding in my— aH!", you involuntarily let out quite a loud moan, prompting a few people to look around for the source of the noise. Your eyes widen at the noise you just made, turning around to try and glare at River. He doesnt even stop thrusting into you, infact, he does it even harder and faster now that he's heard you moan.

You can feel yourself getting close to your climax, some tears well up. River shows no sign of stopping. The sound of skin against skin is not too loud but loud enough that if someone went up the stairs, they'd be able to hear everything. "Isn't this exciting..", he stops to whisper in your ear. You turn to look at him with pleading eyes, "p-please...I want to cuM...!", your begging words drove something in him. "Whatever you want, angel", he teases and starts to pump into you again. This time, chasing his own climax too. It's almost as if all the self control you had just dissappeared, "gosh, you're tighter now", you can barely hear him say while you're a moaning mess, not caring if they heard you anymore. "A-ahh River ngh", you close your eyes, the pleasure getting to you. The two of you are in yout own little world, River fucking you roughly as you take it like you always do. "That's it, let out your pretty little voice", he seems very satisfied in making you almost yell out his name in pleasure. Eventually, you couldn't hold it anymore, "c-cUmMinG...gH", you splurt all over Kevin's wall. His hallway wall. Though in this very moment, you don't even think about it. Why should you anyways, you're too busy being pounded. With you cumming, your hole becomes tighter which brings even more pleasure to the man abusing your hole. It doesn't take long for him to thrust deep inside of you and unload his cum inside. Your legs give out and you almost fall but River catches you before that happens.

You're barely conscious when the two of you descend the stairs, face to face with the party goers. "What were you guys doing up there?", Kevin goes up to River with a curious look. River only smiles eerily, "curiosity killed the cat", and exits the party with you in hand. You're too tired to even comprehend anything. When you get into the passenger seat, it's almost as if an off button was pressed as you fall into a deep sleep until the two of you arrive to River's place.

The next day, you're laying on the couch with your boyfriend sitting next to you. You're mindlessly scrolling on your phone. Not thinking much about what happened last night. It's quite common for River to fuck you anywhere and everywhere, you were a bit shocked at first but got over it after the whole thing blew over. You don't pay much attention on River until you hear him chuckle a bit. A half smirk emerges on his face as he looks at his phone, "what are you smirking about?", you question which he dismisses, "nothing, just a very cute picture", he puts his phone into his pocket. Maybe he should go to parties more often, he'll get to see more of that adorable nervous face of yours!

══════════════════════════════

I'm back! As promised, here is a freaky drabble of River, but I went a bit overboard, and it turned into a short fic instead😅

[webslingingslasher]

what if peter calls her annoying for doing soemthing so she geniunely stops

peter remembers the conversation vividly.

'do you mind if i play a game?'

'no.'

'are you sure? cause if you wanna do something now's the time to say it.'

'no, you can play.'

you told him he could play, and you didn't even sound the slightest upset. he must've read that wrong, because while he's trying to focus on killing and not dying, you're chatting up a storm.

peter figured after the third barely there half acknowledgement you'd figure it out, but no. not even when he cut you off to shout something to a teammate. it was the third missed shot and he just really wanted you to stop talking.

it's nonstop and about nothing important. shit about people he doesn't know, or people he has a faint recolection from. his team was about to pull through, but you had to call his name to make sure he was listening to some bullshit about whoever and whatever and he fucking died.

'jesus fucking ch- what?! you do this every fucking time, i asked if i could play, you said yes. i asked if you minded, you said no. yet, every time you sit here and try to have a fucking conversation with me.'

as if he didn't dig in far enough:

'you're fucking annoying.'

ouch. ouch, ouch, ouch.

'i'm sorry.'

ouch, 'you're fucking annoying.' ouch, ouch, ouch.

a heavy sigh, peter rubs his eyebrow. 'yeah, i'm sure you are.' you want to shink into nothing, he made you feel so small in three words.

'you're fucking annoying.' ouch, ouch, ouch.

'i am.' it's timid, peter sighs again, this time at himself. 'i know you are. i'm sorry, i shouldn't have yelled at you. i was doing good and got distracted, i'm sorry and it's just a game.'

peter was sorry he yelled, not sorry he called you fucking annoying. no, that part he meant. it was obvious. 'it's okay.' you feel robotic, but it was your fault he lost his game. you're the one that told him he could play.

peter looks at you, his face scrunched. 'it's okay? i raised my voice at you and it's okay?' you nod, 'yeah. i distracted you.'

sure, that's what he said, but it's not what he meant. 'hey, don't sweat it. if i was a better player that wouldn't have happened, if anything you might just make me better by talking my ear off.'

'you're fucking annoying.' it still stings. you plaster on a smile, it's missing from your eyes. 'yeah, maybe.' peter winks, he bought it. or he just doesn't want to deal with it, you're fucking annoying anyways.

'you can play another round, i won't bother you this time. i promise.' and you don’t. not a single word, you just endlessly scroll on your phone and let peter celebrate his team win.

a cluster of kisses. ‘i had total focus and i set a new record. be proud of me, please.’ you smile, it hurts to know that your silence made him win. that’s how fucking annoying you are.

‘super proud, handsome. feel free to keep playing.’

it doesn’t feel right to peter, normally you’d be begging for attention or coercing him into cuddles. instead, you’re shrugging him off.

‘are you-‘

‘yes. i’m sure.’ twitter and instagram are boring. but you don’t want to be fucking annoying.

peter gives another kiss. ‘you’re the best, trouble. don’t forget it.’

you’re the best… and you’re fucking annoying.

you won’t be anymore.

———

peter’s won every single match this week and it stopped feeling good. and as he’s aimlessly wondering, half hoping to be killed, he realizes he hasn’t heard you in a little bit.

‘hey, trouble. what’s up? talk to me.’ he misses the soft chatters and gentle pokes when he loses focus on you. he misses you bidding for his attention.

‘nothing.’ you glance up to the screen, ‘don’t get yourself killed.’ peter shrugs, he doesn’t care how this match ends. instead, he moves from his chair to the bed with you.

‘c’mon, talk to me. tell me about your day or um, what’s that girl? the one with choppy highlights?’ you flip a page in your book, ‘harmony.’

‘yeah, her. what’s new with harmony?’ he moves into your touch, you slowly nudge away. ‘nothing.’ a multitude of things, actually. harmony is someone who has the life only a writer could make up.

‘i find that hard to believe, you’re always talking about her.’

you’re bitter with your words, but how dare he make it seem like he cares. ‘i did, but not anymore since im fucking annoying.’

peter looks at you, you’re choosing to avoid eye contact even if he knows you’re re-reading the same paragraph over and over. ‘you’re not annoying. who told you that?’

oh, you stare at him. you burn the glare of a thousand suns into his eyes, a moment of rage when you picture his head exploding.

‘you did.’

peter throws his controller down, he’s shot instantly. there’s not even a peek at the screen. ‘i did?’ his mind is counting back, when and the most important, why would he say that?

‘you said and i quote, ‘you’re fucking annoying.’ so don’t sit here and pretend you want to hear my stories or whatever. you’re a fucking liar and you think i’m annoying.’

in the time it takes to blink, peter’s grabbing your book away and forcing you to look at him. ‘i didn’t mean it. you’re not annoying, not now, not ever.’

you push his hands away. ‘you do. you apologized for yelling at me but not for calling me annoying. you said it and you meant it.’

‘i’m a sore loser with a big mouth. i don’t think you’re annoying, i’ve never thought you were annoying, and i never will think you’re annoying.’

you don’t buy it. he sure seemed to enjoy your silence for the past week and you tell him that. ‘no i didn’t. you think because i don’t say something, i don’t know it’s happening. i knew you were more quiet and less touchy, but i figured you were really into your new book- not that i hurt your feelings.’

it’s nice to know your efforts weren’t for nothing, but you still feel a sting in your heart. ‘you said i always bother you, and that i do that every time you play.’

peter shakes his head, he’s doing everything in his power to make you toss this idea you think he has about you. ‘i worded it wrong, that’s on me.’

‘what i meant-‘ peter tugs on your knee, you can’t escape his eyes if you tried. ‘what i meant was that it feels like you want my attention most when i’m in the zone and super concentrated. i love that you want to talk to me or sit with me, i just want to win a game too, that’s all.’

you sniff, a threat of a cry if he tries something like this again. ‘so, you don’t hate me or find me fucking annoying?’ peter frowns, he hates that he caused a mental breakdown of sorts behind the scenes over something he didn’t even realize he said.

‘never ever. you’re my girl, trouble. i’m an idiot who doesn’t deserve your passive aggressiveness. next time i act like that, feel free to throw the controller at my head.’

it comes way too quick, you’ve been waiting for this. ‘deal.’

[aerithmybbgmypookiemywife]

Yandere! Imposter! Husband x GN! reader

warning: yandere behavior, unknown shapeshifter, touches you all over your body, mention of impregnation, and kisses. not proofread.

Yandere! Husband? Who comes home at night from work, he was an hour late but you just assumed he was working overtime. He was the breadwinner afterall... "Oh, welcome home Luke." you greeted him, not bothering to look at him since you were focused on washing the dishes.

"There's food inside the fridge, I'll go heat it up after washing the dishes." You added, you didn't hear a response nor anything... You just assumed he headed to bed or something... Your marriage with Luke afterall is... well... In shambles. You know he's cheating and that he doesn't really love you anymore.

Why didn't you divorce him? Well... You were just in it for the money now, and it seemed like Luke was okay with it too so you both just minded your own business. Besides, it was peaceful, you were both probably like roommates.

Yandere! Husband? who wraps his arms around your waist, leaning his chin on your shoulder. This sudden touch made you flinch and suprised. "Luke...?" you called out his name, confused. "Hm?" he hummed. "...Why are you hugging me?" you asked. "Am I not allowed to hug my partner? You look so amazing today..." he whispered in your ear which... Kind of felt weird with how affectionnate he was being...

"I mean... N-nevermind..." you mumbled, brushing it off.

Ever since that night, he kept being all... Touchy with you. Even snuggling you at night. It was weird... but what was even weirder was that you didn't hate it. It didn't end on just that night... Ever since that night, he was all lovey dovey towards you. Always touching you, kissing your cheek, lips, and neck. You could also feel him... staring at you when your not looking. You don't know why but you have this gut feeling that he was always looking at you... staring... admiring. He hasn't done anything bad or anything to physically hurt you so you always brushed it off, just like how you brushed off all the red flags at the start of your relationship with Luke.

Tonight was just like any other night, you could feel his hands around your waist as he pulled you close to him. "You smell so good..." he mumbled as he left a kiss on your back. This time, his hands weren't just on your waist. You could feel it go down to your hip but you don't pay it any mind.

Yandere! Husband? who wonders how he can impregnate you, is it even possible to impregnate you? Well whatever, he'll find a way. He doesn't care if he's a ›æɲϐı˘´ and you're a human. He'll find a way to make you bear his offspring.

Yandere! Husband? who always caresses your body at night, doesn't matter if you need to sleep or don't want to be touch, he will have his hands all around your body.

Yandere! Husband? who has a sinister smile plastered on his face, you can't even see it because you're trying to sleep. He's just glad he ate your pathetic husband who doesn't even care about you.

[eightstarr]

baby — abby anderson.

summary: you're on patrol with abby and you make her squirt for the first time. you don't mean to make a habit out of distracting her, but in your defense, it's hard to focus on anything else when she looks so pretty all serious and focused on keeping you safe! and you are only so strong!

notes: i don't ever really write smut and it for sure shows but anyway here it is! what no one asked for! yet again! also excuse the surprising amount of feelings that are in this considering it's technically supposed to be porn? it wouldn't be me if someone didn't say i love you at least once tho

୨・┈﹕✦﹕﹕✦﹕┈・୧

"Do you have a danger kink or something?" Abby asks, trying to sound cool, but her breathing's a little too staggered for that. You've got her backed up against a counter in a random kitchen of a lonesome, old house.

You smooth your tongue over her pulse and feel her shudder, your hands sneaking under her loose shirt to cup her waist, fingers squeezing adoringly. "Can't I have some fun with my girl?"

"Yeah, but—" Abby cuts herself off with a moan that's almost embarrassing considering how little you're touching her. "You did this last time, too. It's like you want to get caught."

"Caught by who?" You scoff, lifting your head to look at her, nodding once as a silent way to say up. She abides without thinking, her palms against the counter as she pushes herself up to sit on top of it. You're needy enough that you don't bother teasing, no 'good girl', no 'what would your soldiers think if they saw you be so obedient?'. You slot yourself between her thighs and continue your assault on her neck, fingers brushing over chest. "There's no one here, baby."

Baby is perhaps your biggest tell. You call her baby when she's been away for too long, when you've had a long day and show up at her door unannounced, in the morning when you've woken up from a dream that left you aching that you refuse to share the details of no matter how much she asks. 'Baby' means you're desperate. And 'baby' makes Abby pull you closer, because nothing makes her need you more than you being desperate for her.

She lifts herself up enough to let you pull her cargo pants and boxers off in one motion, and her heart skips a beat as you sink to your knees, guiding her legs over your shoulders. She used to fret about that, fret about a lot of things— but the admittedly ridiculous thought of accidentally squeezing you to death was up there. You'd made the stupid joke, as anyone would, at least I'd die happy. But when that didn't quite work besides earning a roll of her eyes and a slight smirk to her lips, you'd simply gotten back to work on making her cum on your mouth until she had no choice but to close her legs around you. And when she did, the movement mindless and needy, you groaned and left loving fingerprints on her thighs enough to reassure her that you liked it. Loved it. You loved a lot of things that Abby used to be insecure about.

The point is, she shouldn't be shocked to see you get down on your knees. It's not an entirely unfamiliar sight anymore, you've made sure of that. But even on the first time you fucked, with all the eagerness and want and sense of overdue of your affections, Abby doesn't think she saw you quite this ravenous.

It's like you're drunk on it, like you didn't have her in a way not too different from this just a mere two days ago. You eat her like you're fucking starving. Not pulling away to breathe, your nose brushing against her clit just right, moaning every time she bucks her hips or pulls your hair.

When Abby cums, she feels it in her chest. It sinks on top of her, a lovely heaviness, and then drops off of her all together and leaves her weightless. When you don't stop, she breathes out a chuckle that turns into a broken moan and buries her fingers back in your hair, half expecting you to pull away still. But time passes, drags on and speeds away much too fast all at once, and you don't.

She's saying your name, she thinks, or a sound as close to it as her mind will allow her to formulate. Abby knows she's loud by the way her noises are echoing through the empty room, mocking her. Before she can feel embarrassed by it, as if you can read her mind as easily as anything else, you drag your mouth down and fuck into her with your tongue in a way that she didn't know could feel so good before she met you. As quickly as it came, the shame is gone. Her lips part and her sounds grow louder still, spilling out of her carelessly. You want to reward her, you think somewhere in the back of your mind, want her to know how much you love it. It's a privilege to make Abby Anderson a mess, and it always makes you lightheaded with need.

You wrap your mouth around her clit and suck, and Abby lets go of your head for once to grab onto the counter and make a lame attempt to keep herself still, her knuckles white.

The pressure building in her low abdomen is familiar, but then your hand comes to lay flat against the exact spot and something about the weight of it makes the feeling twist into something different.

Abby gasps quick breaths, her eyebrows furrowed in vague confusion and enough pleasure to drown it out and soothe the meaningless pain of bumping her head back against the wall.

"I'm gonna cum," she warns, barely legible. And it's fine, she thinks, it's just like every other time. But then she feels it start to unravel, finally, and it's the same but also not at all. "Fuck, wait, I think— fuck!" she's panting, shaking and forcing her gaze to refocus just to watch the way your eyes fall closed, the way your eyebrows furrow. You moan against her and the sound is loud even while suffocated, even though you've somehow managed to push your face closer to her, press your tongue deeper. Abby feels it gush out of her and it's nothing like anything she's felt before, so good and so much and she doesn't want it to ever end, even as she blabbers, "Oh my God. Oh my fucking God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

You don't seem to hear her, hungrier than she's ever seen you— you look fucking possessed. You pull back and the sight of you is dizzying, embarrassing, and it's the only thing Abby wants to look at for the rest of her life. Your lips are glistening, yes, but so is your chin, your cheeks, her cum dripping down your neck. Your eyes are dark, more pupils than anything else, and they swallow her whole. You haven't pulled back too far, your breath still hot against her, but it's enough that you can replace your mouth with your fingers and rub on her clit. What's left in her comes out in soft spurtz, dripping onto the floor, and you couldn't tear your eyes away if you tried.

But Abby doesn't know that, doesn't know what you're thinking at all. You're surprised, but is it in a bad way? It must be. Are you disgusted? You're so covered in her that it feels like you'll never be able to wash it off, and Abby can't read your mind like you do hers, so she doesn't know that the thought thrills you, that your heart is fucking pounding in your chest, that your underwear is utterly and completely fucking ruined. You lick your lips and swipe your chin with the back of your hand, absentminded. Abby's thinking, begging, say something.

"Holy fuck," is all you can manage, a quiet mutter, breathless. Your fingers haven't stopped rubbing, but a whine and an especially forceful quiver of her legs makes you blink and you stop like you've just come out of a trance, your hand moving instantly to soothe up and down her thigh.

"I'm sorry," Abby repeats, and then you look at her face like you've just remembered it's there.

Look up at her like she's fucking crazy, like she's grown a second head, mumbling, "What?"

"I didn't— I tried to warn you," she says, even though she doesn't know that she could've. It felt so foreign, she wouldn't have known how to explain it, really.

You lower her trembling thighs from your shoulders carefully, not before pressing a kiss against each one, and then you stand up. Abby wonders if this is where you'll tell her you didn't like that, where you'll help her put her clothes back on and then you'll promise each other to never speak of it again. Instead, your eyes grow impossibly gentle, impossibly loving, and you tuck yourself closer between her legs. The hem of your jeans brushes against her core and she gasps, but doesn't move away. "Baby," you call softly, pecking her lips. "Has this never happened to you before?"

Abby feels a little like she's suffocating, the breeze coming in through the window you'd opened when you first came in not enough to soothe her anymore. But you brush your knuckles over the faint scar on her cheekbone and her shoulders grow limp, her body relaxing except for where she's shaking— fuck, she is still fucking shaking. She remembers your question and shakes her head.

You don't show her how embarrassingly proud that makes you, that you made that happen before anyone else did, because it's not the time. You tuck the feeling in your pocket for later and hum, barely resisting the urge to kiss her, to get back on your knees until they're bruised and make her cum in whatever form she'll give you all over again. "Did it feel good?" You ask, not mocking, but curious.

If she wasn't so embarrassed, Abby would've laughed. It is very possible, and the thought does nothing to ease her shame, that nothing has ever felt so good. But admitting that feels like too much, so instead she whispers, "Yeah."

You smile, happy, genuinely relieved. "Then what are you saying sorry for?" You ask, kissing her again before you can help it. "That's my fucking job. I want you to feel good."

The words alleviate like water to a small fire, and Abby feels silly for having forgotten that it's you who she's with. She's had the thought before, but it suddenly becomes more present than ever, practically breathing down her neck— that she wants to keep you forever. Keep is maybe a bad word for it. She wants to be around you forever, for as long as you'll let her, wants to move into your shitty apartment and make you breakfast and sleep every night in your cropped shirts that fit slightly too tight and make her look ridiculous. She ought to say she loves you more often, she thinks. You say it nearly every time you see her now, like the words have been bubbling inside you for too long and now they can't be kept away. It's a fairly fresh relationship, but the feelings are ancient for both of you, and it shows.

"I love you," Abby sighs, and presses her lips against yours before you can say it back. It's sloppy, she's barely starting to come down from her high, but you don't complain. You kiss her with vigor, like you're trying to spell it out with your tongue, I love you. When you pull apart, her eyes fall from your eyes to your chest and she winces, eyes squeezing shut as her forehead falls on your shoulder.

"What?" You ask, a hand coming to cradle the back of her head immediately, without thought.

"Your shirt," she mumbles against you. You glance down and let out a soft oh. The white fabric of your tank top is soaked, mostly near the neckline, sticking to your skin. You hadn't noticed. Abby lifts her head to look at you, freckled face flushed red, so pretty that you forget about the mess she made of you all over again. "You have to change. We can't go back with you looking like that," she says— or begs, more like.

"I didn't bring anything else with me," you tell her, humming appreciatively as you look back down at your chest, grinning. "Besides, this is my favorite shirt now."

Abby groans, the kind of whiney, timid sound that you could've never imagined her making before you become her girlfriend. The kind of sound that makes you weak in the fucking knees, needy and cotton-mouthed. "It's not funny," she hides her face in her hands and huffs, "'S embarrassing."

You're chuckling, but biting into your lip to stifle it when she lowers her head further down, chin against her chest. With careful touch, you wrap your fingers around her wrists and guide her hands away from her face, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Her skin is hot beneath your lips, and you hum at the feeling of it. She's usually so cold, your Abby, freezing fingers sneaking under your shirt at night and making you shudder. It's a pleasure to make her warm, an honor to see her shy. You love her so much it tugs at you, a constant reminder.

"You're a dream, Abby. Fucking perfect," you say, as clearly as you can while dragging your lips down her neck. She's the hottest thing you've ever laid eyes on, so beautiful that sometimes you can't sleep, too excited that she's there next to you to ever close your eyes. And you need her to know, but you're not really one with words, so all that comes out is, "Nearly made me cum in my fucking pants, you know that?"

Abby moans. Her breath gets caught in her throat as you suck marks into her neck and she finds that she couldn't care less right now, about the evidence that'll be left on her skin or your stupid wet shirt. She guides your face up with a hand on the back of your neck, and kisses her flavor off your lips until she can't anymore, until her lungs burn and her lips tingle. Your voice echoes in her head. Nearly made me cum in my fucking pants. Nearly, she thinks. That doesn't sound very fair.

Thick fingers make quick work of your zipper, trailing over your lower tummy and sneaking under your underwear. She's a little fast, but you've never minded. Sometimes she'll notice and force herself to slow down, to savor, but most of the time her mind doesn't let her catch up to it. Like now. She can't worry about looking clumsy or overly-enthusiastic, because she just needs to feel you. Because she wants to check that you weren't lying, that she could've made you cum without ever touching you— and it's there, the overwhelming fucking truth of it soaking her hand. You gasp at the contact, and Abby's thighs squeeze you in place, as if you'd ever leave. "Jesus Christ," she pants. She finds herself saying it a lot lately. Jesus Christ. Oh my fucking God. Calling upon figures she doesn't believe in, delusional enough to think for a second that they'll bring some kind of comfort, release her of her sins.

You're so wet that it doesn't take more than a minute for her confidence to slowly grow back, so wet that it doesn't take more than two to make you cum. It's the fastest she's ever seen you fall apart, and it wouldn't be Abby if her immediate thought (right after that was so fucking hot) wasn't bet I can make it quicker. Her ego fizzles in her chest, warm and euphoric. Abby thinks she doesn't remember the last time she felt as proud about something as she does every time she makes you feel good. Isaac's occasional pat on her shoulder and mutter of 'good job' is laughable in comparison, as is the high of working herself till she's covered head to toe in sweat at the gym, as is everything else.

It might be the honeymoon phase the movies talk about. You slowly catch your breath and raise your head from her shoulder to look at her with the same adoration as you did when she kissed you for the first time, and Abby has a hard time believing that the feeling will ever go away. Movies get a lot of things wrong, anyway.

She's walking slower than usual on your way back home, her steps sluggish, and you're sweet enough to only make fun of her for it a little bit. One comment here and there, earning a scoff when you lean closer and offer to carry her bride style, a badly stifled laugh when you hum thoughtfully and wonder out loud about what Owen must be doing right now.

Her fingers are interlaced with yours and normally she would've let go by now, a little sheepish to show that much vulnerability in front of the people who are supposed to respect her, but the thought doesn't even cross her mind. You crack another stupid joke and she giggles like she did when she was a kid, silly and sweet, tugging your hand to her lips to kiss the back of it.

Manny looks you up and down as soon as you cross the gates, dark eyebrows raised. "The fuck happened to you?" He asks. You look at him with a confused frown and wait for him to clarify, "You're wet."

Abby's stiff as a board where she stands next to you, her quick blinking the only evidence that she hasn't actually been frozen in place by some kind of magic spell.

You're much more casual. "It's fucking hot. I poured some water on myself to cool off."

Manny hums. He's seen you do it before, maybe that's why he doesn't question it. He does note, though, the suspicious way in which Abby walks silently and swiftly past him with her eyes pointedly on the floor. Her hand is tight around yours still, and you follow because— well, of course you do.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Day #7 - Prompt: Free Space | Word Count: 1500 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Alcohol | POV: Steve | Tags: AU, Wrong Number, Right Person Trope, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Meet-Cute

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days. 

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore. 

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy. 

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him. 

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club. 

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough. 

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring. 

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club. 

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away. 

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

[pedrospatch]

jealous

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You aren't together, but Joel doesn't want to see you with anyone else.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. asshole Joel, jealous Joel, he softens up a bit though. established dynamic, Joel and reader have known each other for a decade.

word count: 2k

a/n: highkey i recycled this idea from myself b/c jealous Joel is like...so hot to me. i love this trope, my favorite variant is when he gets aggressively possessive however i don't think i can top some of the amazing fics out there that have gone that direction so i took a softer, fluffier approach to it. also, happy tlou finale day everyone, we'll get through it all together 💗

Jackson, Wyoming

Winter 2024

“Before you head out for patrol, I just wanted to say that I had a great time with you last night.”

Joel’s blood boiled hot in each and every single vein in his entire body as he watched the scene that was unfolding before him just outside of the horse stables. It was late in the evening, and Tommy’s group was gearing up to head out for tonight’s patrol.

You had just finished saddling up your borrowed horse, Daisy, when Owen had sauntered up to you. Joel didn’t know the man, aside from his name. He had been placed in Owen’s patrol group once or twice in the past several months since returning to Jackson, but for the most part, he’d never spoken more than two words to him, and even when he had, it was only when he really didn’t have a choice. Though he didn’t know Owen, one thing was for damn fucking sure—he didn’t like the way that he was looking at you.

And he definitely didn’t like the way that you were looking at him, either.

In the decade that he’d known you, Joel had never seen you lay your eyes on another man before, not until this very moment.

And it was bothering the fucking shit out of him.

“Yeah, I had a really nice time too,” You replied, flashing him a warm and friendly smile. It was in your nature to be sweet and kind to just about anyone you felt you could trust, that was nothing out of the ordinary, but seeing you interact so effortlessly with him only made Joel’s anger bubble even hotter.

Owen reached out to take your hand in his and Joel angrily clenched his fists the moment he touched you. “We should do it again sometime. Maybe on a night when you’re not stuck with patrol duty?” he suggested.

You nodded, smiling once again. “Sure, I’d really like that.”

Joel couldn’t fucking take it anymore.

He was mere seconds away from losing his goddamn mind. Though he had every desire to go up to Owen, snatched his hand away from yours and give him a piece of his mind, Joel had to remind himself that the last thing he needed to do was cause any kind of trouble in the settlement—Maria wouldn’t have any of that in her community, even if he was her husband’s brother.

After taking a minute to somewhat calm himself enough to a point where he knew he wouldn’t throw a punch, he stiffly walked towards the two of you, calling your name. “Hate to interrupt,” he practically sneered, “But we’re startin’ to lose our time. Tommy’s waitin’ for us at the gate.”

Owen grinned sheepishly, squeezing your hand. “Sorry about that, Miller. I didn’t mean to keep your patrol partner, here.”

Ignoring him, Joel narrowed his dark brown eyes at you. “Get on the horse and let’s fuckin’ go. Now.”

Your smile faded, your mouth falling open slightly in shock at his tone.

Though you knew Joel had always been rough around the edges with other people, he’d never spoken to you like that before. For a brief moment, it almost felt like he’d just slapped you across the face.

Without waiting for your response, he whirled around on the heel of his leather boot in the snow and stalked off towards his waiting stallion, his rifle hanging over his shoulder.

Owen frowned, letting go of your hand. “Jeez. What’s his deal?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice wavered slightly. “But I’m certainly going to find out.”

After bidding a quick goodbye to Owen, you quickly walked over to Joel just before he could climb up into the saddle of his horse.

“Excuse me, but what the fucking hell was that?” You asked fiercely as you approached him. 

With his back still to you, he rigidly replied, “What was what?”

“Get on the horse and let’s fucking go. Now,” You mimicked him, crossing your arms over your chest. “How dare you fucking talk to me like that! What’s your fucking problem?”

He remained silent.

“Joel?” You waited for a moment, but still, he said nothing. “Hello? Joel, I’m talking to you! Answer me!”

Slowly, he turned around to face you. His eyes had gone stone cold.

You’d seen him give those eyes to others before, but he had never given them to you.

“In case you’ve forgotten, we have a lot of work to do around here. Tommy and Maria expect both of us to pull our fuckin’ weight if we want to stay here. You understand that?”

“But Joel—”

“We don’t have time for you to stand around flirtin’ with your little boyfriend over there and wastin’ time.”

Despite being angry, you could have laughed—you almost did.

Not wanting to add fuel to the fire, you managed to hold it back.

“First of all, we’re not fucking teenagers, Joel, so cut that shit out,” You said, letting your arms drop back down to your sides. “I hardly know Owen. We met at the Tipsy Bison last night, we had a few drinks and we were just telling each other that we had a good time, that’s all.”

Joel snorted, rolling his eyes. “Well, ain’t that fuckin’ sweet.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, taken aback by his behavior.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, Joel Miller, I would say that you were jealous or something,” You accused him. You felt a shiver go up and down the length of your spine. It was hard to tell if it was because of the frigid, negative degree temperatures outside—or was it due to the fact that there was actually a possibility that the man you had been helplessly in love with for almost ten years now was bothered by the idea of you being with someone else?

He scoffed in response. “Don’t fuckin’ flatter yourself, sweetheart. I ain’t jealous.”

“Then why the hell are you so upset?”

“I ain’t upset, either.”

“Okay, then why else would you be acting like such a damn asshole towards me?” You challenged him, causing his jaw to clench tightly. “If you’re not jealous, then why do you look like you’re fucking ready to murder Owen with your bare hands?”

Joel groaned out of frustration. “Jesus, can you just fuckin’ drop it? We have to leave before Tommy—”

You reached out and grabbed his arm. “We’re not going anywhere until we talk this out, Joel. I need to know what’s going on with you. Please. Just fucking talk to me.”

He snatched his arm out of your grasp and took a step back. “What the fuck do you want me to say? That you’re absolutely right? That I’m fuckin’ jealous? That the second I saw that prick take your hand, it took every single ounce of strength I had inside me not to walk over and knock his fuckin’ head off his shoulders?”

You exhaled the shaky breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding back. “Joel, you have no fucking right to be jealous. You know how I feel about you, you have always known how I fucking feel about you. But you were the one who told me that we couldn’t be together, that we could never be together.” Your voice began to tremble, and you paused for a brief moment, trying to collect yourself. “You’re the one who said that we’d never be anything more than smuggling partners. Even after everything that’s happened with us, what we’ve been through with Ellie—you still keep me at arm’s length, now more than ever before.”

“So you finally found somebody else,” he stated, bitterly. “That it? You tryin’ to move on from me?”

“Yes. No.” You let out a small groan, knowing that if there was one thing you could not do, it was lie to Joel. “Yes, okay? I’ve been trying to fucking move on from you.”

Joel’s stomach sank at your admission. “And he’s the guy, huh?”

“Owen is a nice guy. And I really liked spending time with him—” You looked up at him, seeing the hurt flash in his eyes. “I’ve been so fucking lonely, alright?” You continued quickly before he could say anything. “You’ve been avoiding me for months now, Joel. Ever since we came back to Jackson, things have changed. Do you think I haven’t noticed that we only ever talk when we’re sent out on patrol together? That we don’t eat our meals together anymore like we used to? That whenever I even try and approach you, you make up some excuse to leave, even when we’re in our own fucking house?” Hot, frustrated tears blurred your vision. Not wanting to cry, you furiously blinked them back. “Ellie asked me the other day if something was wrong with us. Even she notices the way you’ve been treating me these last few months, Joel. How you avoid me like I’m the fucking plague.”

Joel opened his mouth to speak, but then clamped it shut, not knowing what to say.

“You can’t be upset with me for trying to move on, not when you’re the one who’s been pushing me away—and I don’t just mean here in Jackson. For ten fucking years you’ve been pushing me away, Joel.” Your voice cracked, and a tear finally gave way and slipped down the side of your face.

His expression suddenly softened. “I had to push you away, darlin’.”

You subconsciously stepped closer to him. “But why?”

“Because, what I felt—what I’ve been feelin’ for you, it’s somethin’ that I didn’t think I could feel for someone ever again. It’s so strong and runs so fuckin’ deep that it scares the shit out of me,” Joel confessed, a trembling edge to his tone. “Before Wyoming, it was so fuckin’ easy not to think about it. We were too busy fightin’ to survive, to protect Ellie—now that we’re here and every goddamn day isn’t a fight for survival, things changed, alright? What I feel for you runs through my mind all fuckin’ day. There ain’t no avoidin’ it.”

“Joel—”

He cut you off. “I never meant to hurt you. When we got here, I thought it’d be best to put some distance between us. I thought that maybe if I spent less time with you, what I feel would just go away somehow. But I was wrong. Wrong and stupid to think that what I’ve been feelin’ for ten fuckin’ years would just disappear.”

“What do you feel for me, Joel?” You whispered, looking up at him.

Your eyes widened in a slight surprise as Joel reached up and gently cupped your cheek in the palm of his gloved hand. He put his other hand on your hip and pulled you as close as he possibly could to him. He looked deeply into your eyes as your arms wrapped themselves tightly around his neck. Joel leaned down into you, and the both of you stood absolutely still, each waiting for the other to make the final move. 

Finally, it was Joel who closed the remaining distance between you and him.

He softly pressed his lips to yours. Any and all hesitation that he might have had before vanished completely as you parted your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. 

“That,” he said breathlessly once he’d pulled away, “Is what I feel for you.”

“Never thought I’d see the fucking day,” You murmured against his lips, a tiny, joking smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Joel leaned his forehead against yours and sighed, his warm breath tickling your nose. “Look darlin’, m’real sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. It’s just that seein’ you with that prick, the thought of you with him, or with any other man that ain’t me, I just couldn’t fuckin’ handle it.” He paused briefly, taking a look around. Part of him hoped Owen was still around and watching his every move. “I’m gonna have to find a way to make sure every man in Jackson knows you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” You assured him, gently. “Believe me. You are the only man that I could ever want. I’m all yours, Joel.”

[sanyu-thewitch05]

I keep thinking about Yandere husband fucking his cute,sexy wife while calling her his little slut/whore

A/N: So I didn't know if you were talking about an old oc or not, so I just made up a name for the husband. Also, happy holidays, and sorry this came out so late. I got caught up in holiday celebrations and sleep.

TW: Dubcon, general smut, breeding/impregnation kink, teasing

Your husband, Leroy Angelou, had kidnapped you almost a year ago. He kept you in his mansion, left hickeys to mark you, and forcibly spoiled you beyond comprehension. Of course said spoiling came with the price of having a tracker implanted into your wrist so you can't escape. But that didn't bother you much since Leroy made sure you never left the mansion's grounds. Not even to pick up mail. Now it's your wedding day and you've already arrived at your honeymoon spot in Colombia.

"Surprise, babe! I know you've always wanted to visit Colombia, so I picked out Playa Blanca so you can enjoy the beach and visit Cartagena!" Leroy exclaims, removing his hands from your eyes.

"Oh, thank you," You softly say, looking at the beef empanadas, pink alcoholic drinks, and chocolates.

"What? What is it? Do you not like the color of the rose petals on the bed?" Leroy asks frantically, holding your shoulders. "Do you not like the meat choice for the empanadas? I can get some chicken ones if you want."

"No, it's not that. It's..." You murmur looking at your wedding ring.

"Don't tell me you're mad that I married you? We said I do on the altar, and that's all. Aside from a couple of tax changes, it'll be no different than dating me," Leroy reassures, picking you up princess style. "We'll have a great honeymoon and marriage. I promise."

"Since we're married, I want changes. I want the tracker out of my arm, the ability to leave the mansion, and access my bank account again," You say, sitting on the bed.

Leroy chuckles and kisses your forehead. The feeling of absolute creepiness travels throughout your body.

"Of course, my love. I'll do everything you ask and more, on one condition. We consummate the marriage today," Leroy replies, pulling out pink lingerie with frills.

Your freedom for a few minutes of possible pain and more pleasure. You couldn't resist the deal he made. It was so easy to fulfill. But you never wanted this to be your first choice of gaining freedom again.

"Ok, but we'll do it at night. Eleven 'o'clock sharp," You recommend, caressing Leroy's face.

His face moves to your shoulders and he begins to kiss your neck. You push him away, making him sigh.

"I'll be ordering food for us in the lobby," Leroy says, getting off the bed and leaving the room.

When the door shuts, you wait fifteen minutes then make your escape. You run out of the room and go to the elevator. You press the second-floor button so you can run to the beach. When the elevator opens, you rush in not noticing your husband holding a bag of food.

"Sweetie, what are you doing out of the room?" Leroy asks, a hand snaking around your waist.

"I wanted to visit the beach," You reply, hoping Leroy doesn't notice your lie.

"Bullshit. I know when you lie," Leroy growls, spanking your ass.

"Sorry, sir," You squeak, surprising your husband.

"Sir, huh? You're so cute when you try to deny how you feel. Tell you what, I'll give you all the freedom if you take a good fucking from me."

Leroy's hand goes underneath your wedding dress and into your panties to tease your pussy. You can't bare his touch anymore and give in.

"Fine! I'll be your slutty little whore for tonight, just please make me cum!" You moan, holding Leroy's hand in place.

"Good girl," Leroy whispers, taking his hand out your panties as your floor comes up.

The two of you hurry into the hotel room, making sure to flip the little sign to do not disturb. Leroy unzips your dress and you take your panties off.

"Back on the bed, I wanna see all of you," Leroy commands, kissing your neck.

You whimper as his hands play with your clit as he positions you on the bed. He sticks his fingers in you, and you're practically riding them.

"Aw, I know my little slut was ready for me," Leroy coos, adding in more digits. "You want something bigger?"

"Please," You beg, your legs spread open.

"Aw, too bad. You'll have to wait until I'm done to get it," Leroy teases, slowing down the speed of his fingers.

"Please, please, please!" You beg, grabbing his hand.

"There you go," Leroy coos, speeding up his pace and finishing your foreplay. "Now you get your reward."

Leroy unbuckles his pants and pulls his member out of his underwear.

"Come and get it," Leroy says, letting you straddle him.

You slowly slide down on his dick as Leroy rubs your back to comfort you.

"Sh, you've almost got it. Just a slide down a bit-ah! more," Leroy encourages, kissing your neck. "There you go. You've got it."

You slowly start to ride Leroy, and your husband can't help but moan.

"I'm so glad you let yourself be a little slut for me. I can't wait to fuck you so good and have a family with you," Leroy rambles, thrusting his hips into you.

Leroy pushes you onto your back and taps your thigh for you to wrap your legs around his waist harder. He thrusts into your pussy like an animal in heat and doesn't care that his pants and underwear are down to his ankles. The sound of skin slapping together makes your mind go wild, and you beg for more.

"Leroy, fuck, I-" You moan, letting him make a hickey on your neck. "I love you!"

At those three simple words, Leroy cums inside you and collapses onto your chest. He pants as he kisses your collarbone. Shortly after that, you cum too and your body relaxes. You and your husband enjoy the feeling of each other's sweaty bodies.

"Come on, let's eat our dinner. I got us your favorite dessert too," Leroy says, pulling out of you and grabbing the bag of food. "Say ah, darling!"

"Ah!" You exclaim, gladly being fed by your husband.

"Good girl!" Leroy replies, kissing your cheek and gently rubbing your stomach.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Construction Dog Co.

Each one of these dumb brutes belongs to me! They once had their own lives and careers, but I replaced all that with the blind obedience of a dog. My words dictate their reality, so they'll believe anything I say. That's why it seems perfectly normal for them to wait like this every morning. They'd kneel there all day if I let them, but they need to work eventually!

"Get off your knees, dogs! Hop to work! It's the only thing you're good for!" I yell it with venom, but I relish seeing my words soaking in into their minds. With just a simple command, I've convinced them all that they are animals, good only for hard work and manual labor.

The men rush to their feet, scrambling to pick up where they'd left off yesterday. I don't bother understanding the minor details of their day to day responsibilities. I have different boys programmed to manage all that crap for me. I really only bother watching them sweat their days away.

Being the supervisor can get a bit boring, especially after hearing, "Thank you, boss. I love you, boss," for like the seventh time in a day. It kind of loses it's meaning after awhile.

That's why I often use them for entertainment. Watch this!

"Hey, you two!" I call, pointing at two sweaty workers nearby, "You're in love with each other. Make out!"

Despite being hot and exhausted, the two men drop their tools and perk up. When they meet each other's eyes it's like they're seeing one another for the first time. They practically slam their bodies together in a race to each other's throat, and within seconds the two guys are lost in a world of dirt, saliva, and lust.

I do this with my men often, but who could blame me! I handpicked each one of them because they were strong and hot. If they're going to be hypnotized work slaves, then I need to enjoy how they look.

"You too aren't doing anything else but each other for the rest of the day," I command with a laugh, "Got it?"

"Yes, sir," their replies are moaned out between breaths.

A lot of my laborers were straight before they met me, but these two were creeps about it. I think I found them at the gym, hitting on girls between every set. I obviously enjoyed erasing their raunchy personalities. I find it even more enjoyable watching them grope and slobber over each other, knowing that those bodies would've never done that before I came along.

Those jagoffs are just the beginning of my day! I leave them after they've tumbled to the ground, humping each other like the dumb animals they are.

"You there!" I point to a different guy, quietly stacking blocks nearby, "Get over here and clean the floor as I walk. These Timberlands are brand new and I don't want mud on them."

"Yes, sir," the worker answers and rushes over, throwing himself to the ground before me.

I chuckle and study the poor loser in front of me. With just a few short words, I have him scrubbing a place for me to walk like I'm his king. I scoff in disbelief when I finally recognize who the guy was.

"Wait, are you that jerk from the bank?"

"Yes, sir," he admits quietly, keeping his head lowered towards his work.

"Well shit, you've come a long way! Can you believe that a week ago you were some fancy banker who tried to deny me a loan?" I give his head a little nudge with the toe of my shoe, "This is a much better place for you...uh... Robert...or was it Roger?"

"Reggie, sir," he quickly corrects me.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore," I scowl at him, "Forget your name. You're just a construction dog, now. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who are you?"

"I'm...I'm just a construction dog." I can tell he believes it now, too. I'm probably the only one here that knows his real name, and I'll definitely forget it within a few days.

"Good boy," I pat him on the head, "Now, you're going to stay ahead of me and keep clearing the floor for me to walk."

Reggie mumbles "Yes, sir," and crawls forward to scrub away the dirt in my immediate vicinity. Continuing on my tour, the poor guy struggles to keep up on all-fours, but a good work animal must get used to that position.

By the end of the day, my entire pack of men is sweaty and exhausted. I usually make them all work the maximum shift with no breaks, so it makes sense for them to be tired. Still, they are programmed to come and kneel before me, waiting to be dismissed. They're all a bit antsy for a rest, but I like to test their patience.

"Alright, boys. You're dismissed for the night."

With a collective groan, they climb back to their feet, marching off to the bunk house.

The bunk house is where I keep them when they aren't working. It might seem tight but each guy has enough room to sleep; although, I make them share because I don't want to purchase anymore bunk spaces. I don't really like to spend any money on them. They have access to the porta-john out back, but otherwise they aren't allowed to go anywhere else. I also only gave them the clothes they work in, so they sleep in them too.

Needless to say, it stinks in there. Between the heat, body odor, unwashed clothes, and lack of showers, they've created quite the stench. I avoid their home as much as I can, but sometimes my curiosity gets the best of me. This is the first time I've seen it in weeks.

"Come on boys, don't look so glum!" I chastise them, "Smile! Act like you're happy to see me!"

I watch as a switch goes in each of their minds. Slowly, they snap out of their foggy eyed depression, and light up. The energy of the room transforms as reassuring smiles spread across each of their manly faces.

"That's better! You boys are a tight-knit team! You love each other!" I add, "You don't mind the back-breaking work, or the smell, or anything as long as you're together."

The men become even more at ease, relaxing into the arms of their coworkers. My heart is warmed a little, seeing them getting along with each other so well. They're acting like energetic little puppies now.

I'm ready to leave them for the night. It's time for me to return to my luxury condo down the street, but before I do, I catch sight of one of my workers. An idea springs into my head.

"You, there. Come with me."

"Yes, sir," he answers, though he seems genuinely disappointed to be leaving his buddies.

I lead him outside and hose him off to remove at least some of the mud and sweat. We walk all the way to my apartment. Luckily, he's mostly dry by then so I take him inside.

"Is this going to take awhile, sir?" he asks nervously, "I'm pretty tired and my bedmate is going to sleep soon."

"Shut up and get on the bed," I command.

His mouth snaps shut and he obediently approaches my soft king bed, crawling onto it like I told him to. I sigh when I notice that the stupid oaf still tracked a lot of mud in. I'll have to make him clean it all up later.

"Now, you aren't going to speak or move unless I tell you too," I instruct, "But you will realize that anything I do will be exactly what you want: no matter what I do..."

He gazes back at me numbly.

"Tell me you understand."

"I understand, sir," he instantly repeats.

Tonight is going to be a long night for him. Too bad he still has to wake up early and report to work. I'm already planning on sleeping in. I don't mind keeping my workers waiting for a few hours while I rest. It's my company after all, and they're just dogs for labor...