#google won’t tell me shit

[corvidat]

wtf why is it only thursday. thats fucked up :[

anyway fun lil quizlet streak that idk why I’m even keeping at this point

[bulldog-butch]

I gotta say, it’s so fucking good to see you pop up on my dash again omg 😳💕 hope you have the most wonderful night

thank you 🥺 eh i’m working until 11 but contemplating getting taco bell afterward…. should i do it?

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter II: Go Your Own Way 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Aemond's written another song about your separation, and it becomes clear to you that he'll do anything to make you suffer.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, depictions of anxiety, smut, oral (f receiving), facesitting, phone sex, description of naughty videos

Word count: 3600 A/N: Thank you so much lovely Justine for looking this over for me @theoneeyedprince ♡

‘DRAGONSTONE: VIBRANT START OF TOUR FOR DRAGON DREAMERS’

Eyes glued to the screen of your phone, you absentmindedly sip your cup of tea, newly awake and curled up on a puffy armchair in your hotel room. 

Life on the road proves to be draining. You still feel exhausted from having to fly from Dragonstone to your current location, Gulltown, right after the show, currently operating on merely 4 hours of sleep. 

You had told yourself that you wouldn’t check reviews from your opening night before you felt ready to deal with all possible speculations of your and Aemond’s divorce. 

You know that the concert had been fantastic, the audience demanded two encores and you left the venue with a sore throat and an unquenchable thirst for more. There’s nothing as exhilarating as the high you feel after a live show. 

Still, you couldn’t fight the urge to google reviews, curiosity getting the best of you. 

‘Tensions were high as Dragon Dreamers entered the nearly full venue on Dragonstone last night. Kicking off with a song from their new album, The Chain, devoted fans are quick to speculate whether guitarist Aemond Targaryen wrote it to-’

You can’t bring yourself to continue, knowing that whatever they’d written would only leave you feeling melancholic. You need all the energy you can muster, which means torturing yourself reading about your divorce isn’t a good idea.

As you’re about to put your phone down, it lights up with Helaena’s name. 

“Are you okay, love? We’ve been waiting for 10 minutes”, she asks, voice sounding a bit strained. 

A meek “What?” is all you manage to get out. You were supposed to meet up in an hour, not now.

“The press? We’ve got 5 interviews lined up and need to leave now. Didn’t Tyland tell you about the change in schedule?”

No. 

And you have a feeling that it isn’t Tyland who’ll be delighted when you show up smelling of sweat from yesterday's gig, with your hair in tangles and face fatigued. 

“Sorry, Hel. I’ll be there as soon as I can, give me five minutes”

No shower. 

No hair. 

No makeup. 

Great. 

In haste, you throw on a pair of jeans, a burgundy top and messily apply some blush and mascara, hoping it’ll distract from the bags under your eyes. You throw one last glance at your reflection before heading down. 

You look exactly like you feel,

Shit. 

You try your best to not let your cheery facade crack, smiling brightly at the journalists as they ask you about yesterday’s show and the ongoing tour. 

No one dares to ask about your personal lives, something you find yourself feeling immensely grateful for. 

Three interviews down, two to go.  

You throw a quick glance at Aemond. You’d been careful to sit on his blind side so you wouldn’t have to feel the searing sensation of him staring you down. Observing him in secret still burns though.  

You know he won’t move quickly enough for you to get caught. After the accident that left him blind in one eye, he always moved slowly. His blind eye has a tendency to lag slightly, not always looking in the same direction as his seeing eye. Self-conscious and afraid of being awarded the epithet ‘lazy eye’ on top of ‘one eye’, he’s trained his body to always move slowly, giving his blind eye a chance to keep up.

The next interviewer enters the small room you’ve been assigned, donning a wide smile as she makes her way to the chair in front of the two sofas where you and your bandmates are seated. 

After quickly introducing herself and the magazine she works for, Harrentown Underground, she jumps straight to the questions, asking you how yesterday’s gig felt and what fans should expect from the upcoming tour.

As she talks, her gaze is trained on Aemond, nodding and smiling brightly when he answers. 

Her eyes narrow slightly as she purses her lips together, visibly tensing up as she asks,

“Has the recent, um, changes in your personal life aided your creative process?”

The tension in the room grows as Aemond stays silent despite the journalist looking solely at him. You’d asked management to let the journalists know that you wouldn’t be taking any questions about your personal lives. She either doesn’t know or doesn’t care; you can’t make out which it is. 

Aemond finally breaks the silence,

“Yes. I guess so” 

“Many fans online suspect the new song you performed yesterday is about your failed marriage, is that correct?”, she continues, completely ignoring you and the other band members as she looks up from her notepad, meeting Aemond’s eye.

He’s completely still as he regards her, taking time to answer so that the awkward atmosphere of the room lingers.

“It is”, he finally admits, catching you by surprise. He’d always been so reserved; never wanting to let the public in on his private life. 

The journalist gives Aemond a sympathetic look, nodding as she replies,

“Heartache really fuels the creative process, is that it?”

Aemond lets out a detached hum, 

“I’m not one to go back on my promises. I value loyalty. The song is about when promises are broken”

Helaena has started to pick at her nail beds next to you. On your other side you feel Jace straighten up, eyes cast down to inspect the floor with newfound interest. 

Nobody wants to say anything; nobody wants to continue this conversation. Except for the journalist, who nods in understanding as she scribbles on her notepad.

“It must be hard, being left by your partner”, she says, throwing a brief, disapproving look your way, “Have you had time to process it all?”

She is clearly not interested in speaking to anyone else in the band. She regards Aemond as if they are the only two in the room. It feels so belittling, being talked about like you’re not even present. 

“Hmm. Betrayal takes time to recover from”, he replies curtly, sounding cold and harsh. 

You feel your throat close up, eyesight going blurry as you take in his words. 

Betrayal? 

You try to the best of your ability to not let any tears escape down your cheeks, tilting your head slightly backwards as you take a deep, quiet breath. 

You will not cause a scene. 

You will not give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words got to you. 

You will not give him what he wants. 

As soon as the journalist from Harrentown Underground leaves and Tyland tells you to take a break, you make your way to the bathroom in quick steps. 

You rush inside a booth, quickly locking the door before you fall down on the toilet seat, hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your wailing as you begin to cry heavily, sobs ripping through your body in angry waves, and tears pouring down your cheeks.

He’s such a fucking prick. 

He’s such a fucking prick.

He knows exactly what buttons to push to upset you. He also knows exactly how to do it in front of others, without them knowing of the quiet war being fought between the two of you. If that journalist knew the full story of what led to your divorce, would she still pity poor Aemond? 

You cry hard, trying to release some of the frustration built up inside. After a couple of minutes, the tears start to lessen and you roll out some toilet paper, patting it over your soaked face before throwing it in the toilet. 

You exit the booth and move to stand in front of the mirror. 

Seeing your reflection makes you feel worse. Your hair is frizzy from the way you tossed in bed, your mascara has run down your cheeks in black streaks, and your eyes are puffy and red. 

You sigh in surrender, pulling out a concealer from your purse and patting some under your eye to hide the smudged blackness and swollen skin.

If strength was measured by resilience, you’d be a warrior. You wouldn’t let Aemond’s attempts at hurting you hinder you. He’d already controlled your life when you were married. He wasn’t going to continue to restrict you now.

The last interview is with a journalist from King’s Landing Weekly, and you remember meeting him last year when you’d just released your first album. 

He’s a true music nerd, always asking insightful questions about your inspirations, what you want to convey, how you went about the recording process. 

“How has recording been this time around?”, the journalist asks, oblivious to the fact that you’d spent most time alone in the studio, recording your parts separately. 

“It’s been interesting. Production has taken longer than we anticipated, but we’ve got some real bangers we’re eager to share with our fans”, Jace answers with a smile, going on to reveal that you’ll perform some of the new songs during your tour. 

You think back to when you recorded your first album, spending almost every waking hour in the studio with your bandmates. 

Well, mostly with Aemond. 

The nostalgic past when you were madly in love. It seems so distant now. 

On your knees, you hover over Aemond’s face. His nose repeatedly brushes against your clit as his tongue moves in and out of you. He’s lying on his back on the dirty floor of the studio, his arms locked around your thighs, and his hands grip your hips tightly.

You’re so close to breaking. So close. 

Hands resting on your thighs to keep yourself upright, you let your hips rock in tandem with Aemond’s tongue as it fucks you. And when your orgasm crashes over you, one hand moves to his hair, grabbing it harshly as you moan his name. 

Unabashedly, you cry out in pleasure before stilling. Breathing heavily, your mind feels delightfully empty in the bliss-filled aftermath of your peak. 

As you move to get up, Aemond’s grip on your hips tighten, focing you to stay put as he continues his assault on your cunt. You moan, half in pleasure, half in pain, from how his nose brushes against your over sensitive clit, sending jolts of stinging delight through your body. 

“Aem, I can’t-”, you weakly protest as he brings his tongue up to your clit, gently swiping over it. 

His voice is muffled underneath you as he replies, “Yes you can” 

His hands push your hips to forcefully rock your body against his face once more, and you feel the stinging between your legs morph into fierce pleasure, consuming your senses. 

You had tried to keep yourself up slightly to not place all your weight on Aemond’s face, but you slowly lose control over your body and slump down against his face as a second orgasm approaches. 

Satisfied at your defeat, Aemond moves one hand down to your entrance and pushes two fingers inside at once, stretching your slippery hole. You gasp, and when his fingers find your g-spot, you moan without inhibition. 

“Fu-, k-”, you sigh, voice strained. 

Your hands hold on to the edge of the desk in front of you, head thrown back. Aemond’s fingers continue to move in and out of you in calculated strokes as his tongue determinedly massages your clit, and when he closes his lips around your bundle of nerves and suck, you come for the second time; the edge of your vision going black from the intensity.

Your body jerks uncontrollably as you gasp and sigh and moan. 

After your body’s stopped twitching, Aemond’s face pokes out from beneath you, covered in your slick. You’re still breathing heavily, trying to regain your posture and stand, but he tugs you down to the ground and places you in his arms.

“Go on, pretty girl. Clean me up”, he whispers into your ear. You oblige with a smile, kissing away all the remnants of your arousal on his face, revelling in the taste of you on his skin. 

You wish your mind wouldn’t go there whenever you think about the last time you were in the studio together. You wish it wouldn’t drift to the happy memories. 

They hurt the most. 

Leaving someone you still love is so much harder than leaving someone you don’t. You have to continually remind yourself of what a toxic husband he could be. Of how unfair, and controlling, and dangerous he could be. 

In fact, you didn’t really need to remind yourself; Aemond was fully capable of acting horrible on his own. 

As the journalist from King’s Landing Weekly wraps up the last interview of the day, he stands and thanks you all for your time. 

He stretches out his hand and offers each member a handshake. When he reaches you, he holds onto your hand as he gleefully states, “I truly hope we get to hear one of your new songs soon. The emotions you put into song-making is truly something else”

You smile back at him and squeeze his hand, assuring him that you’ll perform a new song soon.

Behind you, Aemond clears his throat a bit too loudly for it to seem unintentional. He stands up, prompting the reporter to move to shake Jace’s hand next to you before leaving. 

All you can think about is getting back to your hotel room, take a long-overdue shower, and a much-needed nap. 

You make your way out of the conference room, but before you can leave, a large hand gently tugs at your shoulder, stopping you. 

You turn around to face Aemond, who gives your form a once-over, 

“Are you doing okay? You look a bit, hm, disoriented” 

If he is trying to sound caring he’s failing miserably. His tone is condescending, nearly mocking. 

“I’m fine”, you reply, jaw shut tight and annoyance tinting your voice “No one told me about the sudden change in schedule”

You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?

He nods curtly, “Alright. I’d like to perform a new song tonight, you did back-ups on it in recording; ‘Go your own way’. Would that be okay with you?”

The forced, nice pretence he’s trying to uphold doesn’t fool you for a second, you can hear how he’s holding himself back as he speaks. 

“Of course”, you reply shortly. 

Why is he asking for permission? 

You turn and move towards the door, eager to retreat to your room. Aemond stays put behind you, voice a little more urgent than before as he adds, 

“My girlfriend will come to tonight's gig, if you don’t mind?”

You sigh as you turn the handle of the door, 

“Why would I mind?”

You do mind. 

It feels so wrong to see Alys sit on Aemond’s lap backstage as he whispers something in her ear. It almost feels perverse, seeing your husband with someone else. Like they’re committing a sin. 

Still, you say nothing. Instead, you stubbornly refuse to look their way, focusing on helping Helaena with her eyeshadow at the other end of the room. 

You can’t help but ponder their dynamic. 

Is he as possessive of her as he had been over you? 

Is he as insatiable?

Like the time he demanded you record when you touch yourself, instructing you to place your phone on your stomach so he could hear just how wet you were as your fingers slip inside and you moan his name. 

That was back when he was still working for his grandfather’s company, and he’d occasionally go away on business trips. He’d call you around midnight every night. 

“What would you do if I were there?” 

You hear him breathe heavily. His voice is strained and the distant sounds of him stroking his cock echo in the background. 

“I’d climb on your lap and beg you to fuck me. Beg you to let me ride you”. 

Aemond groans. 

“And then?”

“I’d beg you to suck on my tits as I bounce up, ah-, and down”

You’re so close, forcefully letting your fingers push at your g-spot while the palm of your hand presses at your clit. You know he’s close too by the sounds of his breath hitching and the way he’s swearing under his breath, mumbling “I can’t wait to sink my cock into you”

Or the videos he had on his phone of you. God, did he keep those? You know his favourite had been the one where you’re seen kneeling in front of him, tongue sticking out of your mouth as he coats your face with his cum, asking you who you belong to, who’s little slut you are. 

“Only yours, Aemond. Always yours”

You shiver at the memory. Hopefully Alys had gone through his phone and deleted any and all trace of you. 

You do some vocal warm-ups with Helaena, restless nerves bubbling inside you as you wait backstage to soon enter the stage. 

Wiping some sweat from your palms onto the jeans you’re wearing, you internally remind yourself of the fact that you’d done an incredible show yesterday, and today would be just as good. 

You know that your band will deliver. You always do. Even Erryk, being a new addition, has proven to be a great drummer and teamplayer, possessing both the stamina and skills needed to thrive in Dragon Dreamers. 

You hear the crowd chanting, mood just as elevated as it had been the day before on Dragonstone. As you go over the set list for the night, Aemond suggests you start with ‘The Chain’, like you did yesterday, and end with his new song, ‘Go your own way’. 

Although you’d recorded backups for the song, you hadn’t listened to the entirety of it in the studio. 

Somewhere inside, you know that the song is about you. About the divorce. You remember singing, 

‘You can go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’ 

Anxiety grows within you as you think of having to listen to the entire song. You’d put it off in the studio, never feeling mentally prepared to hear Aemond’s thoughts on how you’ve ‘wronged’ him. 

And now you’ll have to hear it for the first time in public. In front of an audience. 

You can do this.

Just breathe. In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds. 

Your breathing is laboured, body vibrating from the excitement of performing. This truly is where you thrive; where you feel your best. 

Where you can contribute something to the world. 

Make people happy. 

You look down at the fans beaming up at you, howling in excitement as they demand another song. 

“Here’s a new song from our upcoming album”, Aemond starts, the crowd cheering louder. 

This is it. The anxiety you’d felt about hearing Aemond’s new song still buzzes within you, but you won’t let that hinder you from giving this song your all as well. You won’t let him intimidate you. 

The song is fast-paced, and Aemond’s fingers quickly pluck the strings of his guitar as he starts to sing, 

‘Loving you isn’t the right thing to do’

‘How can I ever change things that I feel?’

‘If I could, baby, I’d give you my world’

‘How can I when you won’t take it from me?’

He was so intent on playing the victim it was almost laughable. Ignoring his own wrong-doings; his part in your separation. He was suffering; left to bleed out from the knife you’d stabbed in his back. 

Fuck that. 

He’d driven you away with his obsessive behaviour and anger issues. But that was not the story he wanted to tell. 

‘You can go your own way’

‘Go your own way’

‘You can call it another lonely day’

‘Another lonely day’ 

As he sings his solo lines, Aemond stares you down. 

His seeing eye bores into you with a fire you’d hardly seen before. It’s a stark contrast from his damaged eye; the white mist covering it making it appear calm, almost gentle.

He’s found a way to yell at you in public, berating you for leaving him in front of the entire world, without causing a scene. That’s why he’d been so set on appearing civil with you around others. He wants to break you. 

‘Open up, everything’s waiting for you’

Just like yesterday, he sounds uncharacteristically passionate as he sings, much angrier than usual. He basically spits the words at you; ‘go your own way’, ‘everything’s waiting for you’

You can’t keep eye contact with him for long, his gaze too scorching. 

Why is he suddenly so intimidating? 

You try to remind yourself of the fact that you were married mere months ago. 

You know him. He’s still Aemond. Your Aemond.

Or is he? The man staring at you on stage feels far removed from the person you married two years ago. 

As Aemond starts to play his guitar solo, he leaves his microphone, furious eye never leaving you as he approaches you; more akin to a predator than a man. 

You hear the crowd cheer. 

He doesn’t have to look at his guitar as his skillful fingers effortlessly play the climatic guitar solo. He’s treating his instrument like he’s angry at it, harshly plucking at the strings in the most violent manner. He comes up to stand right by you, between you and the audience. You’re forced to face him. To meet his eye. 

The crowd cheers louder and louder. 

His expression is stoic, eye unblinking as he assaults the strings of his guitar. 

Never looking down. 

Only at you.

Thank you for reading!

[wonysugar]

fuck you stupid | ning yizhuo

synopsis : you thought you’d seen it all with her, but no, she somehow managed to surprise you even further.

pairing : bimbo!ningning x fem!reader

genre : bffs to... fwb?? idk they just fuck,, so obviously smut too! xx

tags : yall got lost help, fingering, degradation, belittling, dumbification, car sex, she's so stupid but she fucks you good so it's okay, very slight cunnilingus, she slaps you like once so impact play!

warnings : none!

word count : 1.6k

you, y/n l/n, weren’t exactly smart, but you also weren’t exactly stupid. like yeah, you weren’t a genius per se, but it’s not like you were brain dead either. average was the term you always used to describe your intelligence.

you unfortunately couldn’t say the same about ning yizhuo, your best friend. 

you loved her, like that’s your bitch, of course you love her! however, you’d be lying if you said that she was intellectually capable, because she just wasn’t. god, she was just so, so painfully stupid?? clumsy??? careless???? all of the above applied when it came to this woman. not even to be mean or anything of the sorts, just, yknow… natural selection at its finest.

she was aware of that, though, and even thrived in being the self proclaimed bimbo everyone knew and loved. (to which you wholeheartedly agree with, by the way) and honestly? you just couldn’t stop teasing her about it whenever you two hung out. things similar to “stupid hoe” and “dumbass” always escaping your mouth as you two laughed, probably moments after she bumped onto something on the sidewalk whilst spilling all the tea to you. 

in summary, she’s done stupid shit before, but nothing, nothing could ever top what she had done that day.

the day she got the both of you lost in some random parking lot at like, 2 am.

“ning, we’re fucking lost.” you told her, eyebrows furrowed in frustration as you watched her giggle nervously.

she grabbed her cellphone and hovered her finger over the power button, “oh come on y/n don’t be like that, i can just go on google maps and we’ll be out of here in no ti-“

a black screen.

she cleared her throat hesitantly, sighed, then pressed the button again.

nothing.

she kept doing that, giving longer presses to the side of her phone in hopes of a miracle . your patience was running thin and you were quite frankly not far from panicking.

after the 27th-ish try, you finally snapped at her.

“fucking hell ning do you not charge your damn phone??” 

“sorry that i forgot to?” 

oh she had to be joking. 

“girl oh my god what the fuck?? we’ll stay stuck here for only god knows how long and it’s all gonna be because ‘ning yizhuo forgot to charge her phone beforehand’ for fuck’s sake.” you closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation. trying to calm down, you ignored ning’s gaze.

her stupid annoying yapping wasn’t helping at all. like, at all.

“oh so we’re once again blaming me, got it. y/n you didn’t even bring your own phone, how do you have the audacity to put the blame on me.” she said back, her eyebrow raised up as she threw her phone down on her skirt, sighing exasperatedly. 

“because someone told me it was her turn to get the aux.”

“where in that sentence did i ever tell you not to bring your phone??”

“god, ning just- just stay quiet. okay? just- please shut up, i’m trying to think. we can’t rely on you for anything.” you told her, exasperated.

in response, she scoffed, “no?? no i won’t, actually. you’re always putting the blame on me and it’s seriously starting to piss me the fuck off. yeah i’m a bimbo, whatever, but does that mean that you have to talk to me like i only have two barely functioning brain cells??” 

“oh please, saying you have two functioning brain cells would be wayy too generous. you’re always doing the stupidest shit out of the two of us. i mean fuck, you literally drove us here, in the middle of nowhere. you’re not a bimbo, you’re just fucking dumb, ning.”

when you looked back at her, she seemed hurt. like, 

a wave of guilt quickly washed over you upon seeing her pained, pained expression. she looked into your eyes, frustration and sadness clearly showing into her own. yeah, she looked pissed. you wanted to apologize almost immediately, and you were going to, 

if she didn’t suddenly press her lips onto yours before you could even get a word out. 

-

how do best friends make up after a fight?

usually, they talk it out, they go out, hug it out then get milkshakes or whatever, hell, sometimes they just go a day or two without talking then eventually forget about it.

this? this was none of that.

since she planted a kiss on your lips, you, instead of doing anything stated above, were fucking.

like, yeahh you were still lost, but at least you were getting your pussy ravaged. the situation could be handled later; when you weren’t drenched.

throwing your head back as you moaned out ning’s name, you were straddling her in the backseat of her car, feeling her two fingers deep inside you and stretching you out. she looked up at you with lustfully hooded eyes as she kissed and left very visible marks all over your neck, all the way down to your collarbone, her free hand fondling your tits, lazily playing with the nipple. 

“f-fuck ning keep going i’m sososo close- fuckfuckfuck..” feeling yourself getting pushed closer to the edge by the friction you felt, you bucked your hips faster onto her digits. the knot tying in your stomach felt like it would’ve snapped any second now, that is,

until she stopped moving her fingers altogether.

frustrated, you whined loudly, “ninggg please let me cum pleaseplease-” 

“oh yeah? so now you wanna rely on me for something, and it’s to make you cum?” she laughed. “fucking slut. i’ll make you cum whenever i want to, got it, bitch?” she added, pressing her thumb on your swollen throbbing clit, smirking condescendingly and watching how pretty you looked when pleasure contorted your face.

you unintentionally clenched at her words, nodding shamefully. it was embarrassing enough having your best friend knuckles deep inside of you, having her call you names and whatnot, but the real embarrassing part? 

enjoying it thoroughly.

she knew this, she knew she had you wrapped around her finger at that moment and oh was it such a power trip for her. seeing you be so needy for her touch, you almost started riding her fingers yourself, too. she was always the one being treated like a dumb bitch, it was nice being on the other side of things, for a change. 

she kept twisting and pulling on your nipple with her free hand as she slowly started to slide her fingers up and down your walls again, giggling and paying close attention to how your body shook and twitched at each and every one of her slow movements. what a sight to see. 

“you like being fucked stupid hm?”

and that’s what she did,

seconds,

minutes,

what felt likes hours,

you were sloppily bouncing and grinding on her fingers, speed ranging from a painful slowness to an overwhelming rapidity. 

you gripped her arms tightly, as if you would fall into some sort of void if you didn’t hold onto her for dear life. resting your head on her shoulder, you whined, losing yourself onto her. her fingers were still pumping in and out of you at that moment, faster than they were before, by the way, so it took you all of your body strength to not just cum right then and there, but you managed to hold back. for her, you held back and took all of it. every minute passing, every single motion feeling like it was threatening to make you go insane. 

“ning pleaseplease let me cum i wanna cum so badly fuck- pleasepleasepleasepleaseee-” you begged, looking down at her with pleading teary eyes.

“fuck, look at you. calling me a dumb bitch all the time, yet here you are, acting oh so stupid for my fingers. such a brainless needy little whore for me, hm? does my idiotic, pretty girl wanna cum?” 

you nodded eagerly as you whined, tears actively running down both of your cheeks, so desperate for release that you quite honestly didn’t care for how ridiculous you looked to her at that moment. you just wanted to cum, so, so, so badly, and you were ready to give up your dignity for it.

the sound of her hand slapping your cheek resonated in the car.

“say it. you know damn well i don’t accept pathetic sounds for an answer.”

“fuck— your idiotic pretty girl wants to cum pleaseee let her–”

she hummed, smirking at your response. incredibly amused by your behavior, she took her fingers out of you, picked you up by placing her hands on your thighs, then gently put you on the empty seat that was next to the one she occupied. upon seeing you sat comfortably, she proceeded to kneel down on the empty space between the front seats and the backseats. y’know,

the ones a grown woman couldn’t possibly fit in?

it’s okay though, like, yeah she would most definitely complain about back pain later, but right now?

she needed to feel you cum all over her tongue.

and that’s exactly what she worked towards, her tongue driven by the scent of your arousal to roam all over your folds and clit, kissing and sucking on every inch of your core as she attentively listened to all the sweet noises that came out of you. it really did not take long before your moans reached octaves you didn’t even know you could achieve before, an overwhelming wave of relief hitting you like a truck. you were 100% sure you would pass out afterwards.

at the end of the day, yeah, you both were still stranded in the middle of some unknown parking lot, but at least, the stress of it all evaporated in the air.

while you were trying to catch your breath, you made a mental note;

never underestimate ning’s intelligence when she was in a bad mood! or, do. depending on if you wanna get fucked stupid that day or not.

[wilwheaton]

When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

[lasting-lover]

gf ellie hc’s

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🐰

- ellie definitely texts you whenever she is shitting and says her far wells like she is going off to war like “goodbye darling don’t forget me” or “kiss the kids goodbye for me”.

-ellie for sure after saying the most traumatic shit puts 🙏 at the end of text.

-ellie does stupid shit to impress you like she took up mixology cause she thought it would be cool to wear a suit and mix different juices and shit and pour into like a fancy cup and be like “this one is one the house beautiful” and wink. you are not impress and laugh in her face but not in mean way obvi

- girl can’t type for the life of her like she will type shit like this into google. ( that may or may not be a google search last night..it is 🤓)

- she will also get upset like get a whole attitude when you hit her with a “babe huh?” when you can’t understand what she typed.

-ellie is a cold hands girl can’t tell me other wise like girl has cold doctor hands.

-she loves to give you kisses girl will kiss ur cheeks,lips(both🤨), hands,neck you name if she will kiss it.

-made a playlist of songs that remind her of you and this before y’all are dating and she will be like “bro these are fire ass songs you should listen” mind you they are songs that like expose her gay ass and ur listening like “..wait”.

-the girl will watch the same show over and over and then talk to you for hours about it and you're on ur like 3 “really” and 26 “babe that's so cool” girl won’t get the hint.

part 2

uhh that’s all i got so far tell me if you want a part two i might do one even if no one ask but still i wanna feel special soo yeah 🙈 i hope you liked it

[powermakar]

This is me Trying - LS2

A/N: I feel so bad for Logan after what has happened. Please don't send any type of hate to Alex.

Summary: James tells Logan that he won't be racing on Sunday and everything goes down hill.

Logan Sergeant x female!reader

Warnings: panic attacks and some swearing

I just wanted you to know that this is me trying, at least I'm trying. 

“-so you won’t be able to drive this weekend” 

“What?” 

“Alex is going to be driving your car this weekend since his car is severely damaged.”

“Oh, okay,” Logan felt numb. He couldn’t feel his hands shaking, but he could see them physically shaking. 

“I know it’s a lot but the team really needs this Logan. Thank you for doing this,” James said before walking off. 

Logan began to feel himself lose touch with reality. It was a feeling he was beginning to feel comfortable with. I mean at this point it was happening every race weekend now, so he just HAD to get comfortable with it. At first, he didn’t know what it was, maybe he was just getting sick; but after a few times and some Google searches, he figured out what it was. 

Panic attacks. 

No one knew that he experienced them. Not James, not his trainer, not Oscar; hell, his own girlfriend did not know that he got them. He had to get out of there fast so no one found out. God, he couldn't even imagine what the media would do if it became public knowledge. 

Tears and ragged breaths while hidden in the corners of his driver’s room became his go-to when he didn’t know what else to do. This time it felt different though. The sobs were louder and his vision was blurrier, he felt weak. He felt stupid. How could someone fuck up so badly and he still would get punished. He knew life wasn’t fair and he knew that Formula 1 wasn’t fair either. 

But fuck, it wasn’t fair. At all. 

The knock on the door did not register the first time, nor the second or third. He only realized someone entered the room when he felt someone’s hand on his shoulder. 

You, the love of his life, was seeing him at the lowest he had ever been. Gasps in between sobs were loud and short, and Logan felt embarrassed. He felt shameful and afraid. He couldn’t breathe and he was scared for his future. 

“It’s not fair, it's not fair, it’s just not fucking fair. I'm trying. I’m trying so fucking hard. Can’t you see that? Can’t anyone see that,” he babbled out. 

“Logan I- I know that this is hard, you worked so hard. You deserve to be driving, you shouldn’t be placed on the back burner because someone made a mistake. You’ve worked so hard for so long and it kills me to see you like this. Have you thought about how Alex may-,” Logan cut you off before you could say anything else. 

“No, no. Do not even start with Alex. I know he’s better, I know I am a liability, but I know I can try to be better,” he got up suddenly. He felt lightheaded, he felt dizzy. Stumbling around his room trying to get away from you. “I finally out-performed him and it just gets ripped out from underneath me. Literally,” Logan laughs bitterly. He didn’t care what he looked like now, he probably looked like a madman, but who the hell cares anymore?

“Logan- please just listen to me. Alex probably feels like shit. Yes he crashed his car but it's not his fault the team gave him your car. It's the team,” she pauses “It’s- it’s James’ fault.” 

“I don’t care whose fault it is. I just care about the fact that this is probably going to be one of the last times I'm going to be in F1. My time is going to get cut short, no one has any faith in me anymore. I don’t blame them though, I’m failing and I'm terrified,” Logan says. He could finally breathe normally but he could still feel his heart pounding in his ears. 

He didn’t understand any of it. How could he be failing so badly at something he used to be so good at? He glanced back at you, ready to face the disappointment he knew you secretly hid. 

“Just tell me you can’t stand me anymore. Tell me that I embarrass you. Tell me that you hate me. Tell me that you are disappointed in me. Please just tell me, please.”

“Logan-,” you were in shock. You never knew that he felt like this, about himself. He hid it so well, almost to the point where it was impressive. “You know I could never say any of those things to you. I love you so, so much and I'm so proud of you,”

Both of you heard a knock on the door and one of William’s PR managers called out, “Media in 10, Logan!”

How they expected him to go out into the media pen and act like everything was fine was beyond you. Reaching up to cup his face in your hands, you quickly wipe away a stray tear that fell at your confession. Logan gently squeezed your wrist and smiled sadly. A silent, but meaningful conversation.

[absurdthirst]

Greased Lightning {Frankie Morales x F!Reader x Santiago Garcia}

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 13.1k

Warnings: Financial difficulties, technical prostitution, sex for services, propositioning, threesomes, fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), dirty talk, degradation, anal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, double penetration, cum play, explicit photos

Comments: Broken down and in need of a mechanic, you call Triple Frontier Repair. Finding out that the repairs are more expensive than you can afford, the men have an idea on how you can compensate them.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Frankie Morales MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Shit.” You hiss when you hear the engine of your piece of shit car start knocking and the dashboard lights up like a Christmas tree. “No, no, don’t do this, please don’t do this.” You whine when the acceleration of the car suddenly depletes and you are obviously going to be moving off the road to the shoulder. Bucking slightly as you try to coax it a little farther so you can safely get off and you feel like crying. You’re in a bind financially and you can’t afford pricey car repairs. If you don’t have a car, you can’t go to work and if you can’t go to work, you won’t have a job. You slap the steering wheel and sigh, knowing that you will need to get the car towed. After cursing your bad luck, you open your phone and google the closest mechanics shop that has a towing service. Hopefully they will be able to fix it for cheap. 

“Frontier Repair Shop.” Santi answers the phone, about to leave early but your voice sounds distressed. 

“I need a tow and my car - it just stopped and I don’t know what happened.” You try not to cry down the phone and Santi sighs, knowing his mama would kick his ass if she knew he’d left a woman on the side of the road. He asks you for the mile marker you’re near and knows where you are. 

“Fish, I’ll be back in a bit.” He promises to his partner, heading out to the tow truck to go and get your vehicle. 

When the truck arrives, you almost cry with relief but compose yourself, knowing that this won’t be an easy or cheap fix. When the mechanic gets out of the truck, your mouth falls slightly. “You need a tow?” He asks and you nod, dumbstruck by the handsome man and you almost forget about the issue at hand.

His brows furrow when he slips behind the wheel and sees the array of lights when he turns the key. “It’s good that you turned it off.” He compliments and jams the brake to shift the car into neutral. He’s already put the chains on the frame and just needs to hoist it up onto the flatbed. 

“I just….was driving along and it went haywire.” You worry, biting your lip. “It’s gonna be expensive, isn’t it?” You can’t afford this, you are already destined to spend the rest of your rare day off in a mechanic’s shop. 

“Won’t know until we get it back to the shop.” Santi tells you, noting how pretty you are, even though you’re obviously distressed. “Don’t worry though, me and Fish are the best mechanics around. We’ll get you back on the road.” He promises before shutting the door. “You need a ride to the shop with me, or do you have someone coming?’ 

“I need a ride. I don’t have anyone coming to pick me up and I need to get this fixed today. I have to work tomorrow and I don’t have any other way to get there.” You tell him and he nods, opening the passenger door for you to get in. It’s a little messy, coffee cups and wrappers litter the floor but you don’t care, too distracted by your bad luck. 

“You from around here?” Santi asks as he starts the truck and makes his way back to the shop. 

“No. Moved here years ago for college and didn’t go home.” You sigh.

Santi nods and concentrates on the road. “I get that.” He tells you. “Fish and I opened this shop when we got out of the Army. Just far enough away from the base we didn’t have to deal with that bullshit, but close enough we could go raise hell if we wanted.” He throws you a grin, thinking about the nights they would go bar hopping and get into some good, old fashioned trouble. Plus it was always fun to pick up the women there. “College, huh? What did you major in? I’ve been thinking about taking a few classes, using my G.I. bill.” 

“It’s nothing exciting. I work in HR. Majored in Psych but didn’t get to put that degree to the test. But my student loans have been killing me since my rent was increased and I- sorry, you don’t wanna hear about my drama. How long were you in the army?” You ask, curious and trying to not notice the way his forearm muscles clench as he drives the truck.

Santiago snorts, glancing over at you and then back at the road. “Twenty years.” He admits, grinning ruefully. “Joined up when I was eighteen. Got out last year.” He shrugs. “Not too bad, but the retirement pay doesn’t go as far as it used to. And Fish and I were going stir crazy. Running ops wasn’t feasible, so we decided to start turning wrenches.” 

“Fish?” You ask and he nods, “my partner. His name is Frankie but we had nicknames in our team in the army. His was Catfish and mine was Pope- is Pope.” He says and you frown, “where did Pope come from?” You ask and Santi smirks a little as he adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. “Back in the day, the fellas would say that women knelt before me like Catholics kneel before the Pope.” 

You fluster at the thought, unable to deny his claim. Women would still kneel before him now. “I appreciate you coming out to help me so fast.” You say as he turns into the lot for the shop.

“Never leave a pretty lady on the side of the road.” Pope hums, watching as he turns the big wrecker around and he throws it park before looking over at you. “If you go into the waiting area, we have mediocre coffee and bottled water.” He shrugs and winks. “Down the hall to the right is a little break room. Fish has some Cokes stashed in the fridge for people we like.” He winks at you and juts his chin towards the building. “Go relax, we’ll take care of you.” 

You nod, grateful to him for being so kind, and you get out of the truck, adjusting your skirt as you make your way into the shop, walking past the open garage doors. Frankie is just wheeling out from under a Kia Soul when his eyes find your legs and trail up your form as you walk past. The bell rings as you open the door to the waiting area and Frankie whistles as Santi strides over. “Jesus, Pope. Where’d you find her?” He asks, smirking at his friend.

Pope grins and shrugs. “What can I say, women just flock to me.” He jokes, before pointing to the car that James is rolling off the flatbed. “She broke down on the side of the road. Needs it ASAP, but I can already tell it’s gonna be expensive.” He snorts. “I might have promised her that she would be driving home tonight.” 

Frankie rolls his eyes and sighs, aware that his friend often makes outrageous promises to pretty women, mostly at the expense of Frankie’s time. “Fuck, Pope.” He grumbles. “Kia’s done, go write it up and I’ll get started on the car.” 

Pope grins victoriously at his friend giving in to his whims when it comes to gorgeous women and he makes his way inside, calling out the owner of the Kia to give him the invoice and take his payment while Frankie backs the car out of the bay. “Thanks man. Always appreciate you guys fixing her up.” The guy says to Pope and shakes his hand. You watch as he exits the waiting room and figure he must be an army friend. You are anxious to find out how much this is gonna cost. You might have to ask him to fix it up enough to drive around without clunking out but you know you’d be back in the shop at a moment in the near future.

Under the hood of the car, Frankie is hissing a curse as he shoves his busted knuckle into his mouth. Not really minding the grease as he sucks at the broken skin. He was used to having greasy hands from the work he did, but he fucking hated whoever designed the engine compartment on this car. “Goddamn piece of shit.” He scowls when he pulls his hand away from his mouth and looks back down at the fuel injector. It’s shot to shit and he’s pretty sure that your head gasket is leaking. It won't be cheap, just like Pope predicted, but it can be fixed today. He sighs, wondering how you are going to react to the price tag that’s gonna be slapped on this repair. 

You sip the mediocre coffee, staring at the tv that has Judge Judy reruns on and you fidget, wondering what the cost of your car repair is going to run you. You’re there a while, other customers leaving. The young college kid who is helping out has gone home and you sigh, looking down at your now cold coffee.

Coming into the office, Frankie wipes his hands on a rag and looks over at you before shuffling towards the break room. “Car’s fixed.” He tells you. “Let me wash the grease off my hands and I’ll get you ready to go. Pope’s just closing her up now.”

You look up and nod, standing up from the plastic chair that’s stuck to the back of your thighs and you toss the coffee cup, wondering if the criteria to work here is to be a ridiculously hot guy. You bite your lip and lean against the counter when he comes back with clean hands. “You, uh, you didn’t even give me a quote.” You frown and Frankie sighs, “honestly, the car is on its last legs. I’m stretching its life as much as possible but you gotta look at getting a new car, sweetheart.” He explains, “I did what I could.” 

You sigh, nodding and knowing he’s right. “What’s the damage?” You ask, bracing yourself.

Frankie winces apologetically. “I’m only charging you for parts.” He promises. There had been more wrong with it than he had first realized and Pope had told him to fix it enough to make it safe. “$1600” he tells you, hating the way your eyes seem to bug out of your head. “I can show you the printout. I didn’t charge you for labor. Pope told me about your situation.”

“I- shit. I- I can’t - I don’t have that.” Your eyes start to water, “I didn’t know and you didn’t tell me so I - shit. I don’t have that kind of money.” You choke, unsure of what the hell you’re going to do. 

The bell rings above the door and Pope walks in, “we got her fixed up for you.” 

You shake your head, “yeah and I can’t afford to pay you because you guys didn’t consult me so it’s - I don’t know what to do.” You choke again.

Pope frowns and Frankie hisses. He had thought he had talked to you. “Pendejo.” He groans, throwing the towel in his hand at Pope. 

“Sweetheart, that’s what we had to do to get her running.” He tells you. “You could easily sink another two or three grand in that car. She’s honestly barely road worthy.” Pope explains and Frankie shakes his head. 

“Cabrón.” He huffs. “You should  have talked to her.”

You shake your head, “I don’t - I’m barely making my rent. I don’t have $1600 to pay you. Shit. I- I’m so sorry. I don't know what to do or say. Oh God, this is - this is a nightmare.” You close your eyes, almost willing yourself to wake up.

“Don’t cry.” Frankie hates when a woman cries and you are too pretty to cry over something like this. You shouldn’t have to worry about things like this at all. “We can work something out.” He promises. “A payment plan. I’m not going to unfix your car. It’ll be alright.”

Your eyes open, “really? You’d do that- I - thank you.” You offer him a grateful look and Pope clicks his tongue. 

“There’s another option too.” He says, his voice lowering as his eyes trail along your form. “I can give you a discount if you…if you let me fuck you.” He says, dragging his thumb along his lower lip as his eyes return to yours. You inhale sharply, knowing you should be slapping him for that but shit, you were attracted to him from the get go. 

“Santiago.” Frankie warns him and Santi shakes his head, “or for free…if you let both of us fuck you.” He says and your eyes widen, flicking to Frankie whose eyes are wide but not shocked. It’s not a secret that both men are handsome, something from a woman produced porno and you should say no, arrange a payment plan, and leave, but getting your car fixed for free is tempting. 

“Both of you? And the car is free?” You ask and Pope nods. You inhale deeply, taking another second before you nod, “where do you wanna do this?”

“Holy shit.” Frankie whispers, surprised that you are actually considering this. He won’t even deny that he’s hopeful that you will decide to fuck them both. He can write off the car parts and it’s been a long time since he’s fucked anyone, let alone someone as gorgeous as you. 

“Right here, in the break room.” Santiago tells you. “We lock the doors, everyone’s gone home and Frankie and I both fuck you silly.” He chuckles. “We’ll even go wash up before you suck our cocks.” Frankie nods, not wanting you to think you’re gonna be subjected to unwashed dick.

You should leave. Say no and tell them to fuck off but it’s been a while since you had sex. You’ve never had a threesome. You wonder if they have done this before. They seem to be comfortable with each other. “Uh, sure. I wouldn’t mind cleaning up myself.” You say, “do you have protection?” You don’t know them and you want to be safe, even if this is the least safe thing you’ve ever done.

“Condoms.” Frankie nods, knowing that Pope keeps a stash of them in the desk drawer for dates after work. “We’re both clean too.” He promises. “VA tests us and Pope’s had sex since but I haven’t.” He admits, feeling a little embarrassed about that.

You exhale shakily, “I’m clean too. Tested at my last gyno appointment. Uh, can I use the bathroom?” You ask and the boys nod, gesturing to the bathroom down the hall. You walk down to it, feeling their eyes on you and you shut the door behind you. Leaning over the sink, you inhale deeply and hate that you feel the churn of arousal in your stomach. It’s hard to deny that the idea of sex with two sexy men doesn’t have you wet already and you know you should be ashamed, you should say no but you can’t.

When you disappear into the bathroom, Frankie whirls on Pope. “Did you fucking set this up?” He hisses, impressed and slightly disgusted by what they are about to do. It’s almost taking advantage of you, even though you’re agreeing. Pope smirks and winks at his friend. “You won’t be upset when her pretty little mouth is sucking your soul out through your cock.” He predicts, arching a brow as if to challenge him. “Not like we haven’t double teamed a girl before. Although now I know she’s clean, I wish you hadn’t told her about the condoms. We could have filled her tank too.” Frankie rolls his eyes at the bad joke but his cock twitches under the mechanics suit at the thought of to high you. His friend has known him for far too long because he grins and slaps his back. “There’s the Fish I know. Go wash your cock and balls.” He orders and Frankie shuffles off to the employee shower room.

You wash your face and freshen up elsewhere before heading back into the hall and your name is called from the break room that Pope told you about earlier. You follow his voice and enter the room, taking note of the ratty sofa and chair in the space, the fridge in the corner and the ancient tv in the corner to match the one in the waiting room. Frankie isn’t back yet so you set your purse down and Santi sits on the sofa. “Come take a seat, relax.” He says, “you can say no at any point. Say the word and we stop.” He promises and you believe him. You sit down next to him, knee bouncing and his large hand stops it with a slight chuckle. “Nervous?” He asks and you nod, eying the condoms on the small coffee table. 

“Yeah. I haven’t done this before.” You confess, “threesome. Or sex in exchange for car parts.” You joke breathily and Santi chuckles. It dies down after a moment and he clears his throat, reaching up to cup your cheek. Your eyes burn into his and he leans closer, slowly pressing his lips against yours. The contact is soft and you don’t pull back, shyly kissing him back until the fire in your belly ignites and you grip his overalls, deepening the kiss until his tongue is sliding against yours.

Frankie comes back with just a towel wrapped around his waist. Deciding a full shower would be appropriate. It was a good thing to have in the shop and made it easy to get ready for a date after work. Or fucking a girl in exchange for getting her car fixed, like now. “Go bathe your ass, pendejo.” He huffs, watching as you pull away from Pope and fluster. “I’ll keep our girl entertained.” You’ve agreed to this, so he’s interested, imagining you while he was washing. His cock is already half hard under the towel and he smirks.

Your eyes take in the sight of the mechanic. It’s clear he’s middle aged, a slight stomach, but fuck if you don’t find that sexier than a six pack. The water droplets down his chest have you itching to lick his skin. Deciding to do just that, you stand up and walk over to him, leaning forward to run your tongue along his collarbone to gather the lingering droplets of water from his skin.

“Fuck.” Frankie groans, grabbing your waist and hissing at how good the first touch of you feels. He can hear Pope laugh as he walks out of the room but he’s too busy ducking his head down to press his lips to yours in a kiss that is more impatient and slightly rougher than his brother in arms.

His fingers dig into your waist and his lips press harshly against yours. You moan into his mouth, taken off guard by the fact that you’re enjoying this so far, and his tongue slides against yours. His hands slide down to your ass and he pulls you up against him, his hard cock pressing against your hip. You let him kiss you for another moment until you push him back and he frowns, worried that you’re upset and wanting to leave. He’d let you go but he’d be disappointed. You bite your lip and reach for the tuck of his towel, pulling on it until it falls and reveals his cock. “Shit.” You murmur and admire his thick length, twitching under your gaze and you seem to fall under a spell when you kneel down and wrap your fingers around him. Your tongue is peaking out to press against the leaking slit while your eyes focus on his.

“Shit.” Frankie hisses, taking off guard by the fact that you are almost eagerly getting on your knees for him. “Fuck- strip down.” He growls out. “I want to see your tits and I want your pussy to leak all over my floor.” His cock twitches in your hand, but he pulls his hips back and offers you a hand.

His words make you clench around nothing and you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head to expose your bra. You push your shirt down and leave you in your underwear. “All of it, baby.” Frankie orders and you nod, undoing the clasp of your bra and you let the straps fall down your arms and expose your tits to the mechanic you barely know.

“Fuck, those are nice.” He groans, reaching out and cupping your tits while you hook your fingers into your panties. He squeezes them and then pinches your nipples and tugs on them. “You’re gonna suck my cock, right pretty girl?” He groans. “Get it all nice and wet to fuck you?”

Usually, dirty talk like that would make you cringe but coming from his mouth? Shit, it has you dripping. “Ye-yes. Gonna make sure you’re gonna be just right to fuck my little pussy.” You talk back just as dirty, thrilled by it when his cock jumps. You step out of your panties and Frankie groans, admiring you until you kneel down on the linoleum floor to wrap your fingers around his cock again.

“Fuck.” Frankie hisses, biting his lip as he looks down at you. “Do a good job and I’ll eat your pussy too.” Despite this being an arrangement so you don’t have to pay for your car being fixed, Frankie likes eating pussy and it’s been awhile since he’s had his head framed by a woman’s thighs. You moan quietly and nod before you lean forward and take the head of his cock into your mouth. “Fuuuck.” He hisses, chin dropping down to his chest as he watches you engulf his cock.

You close your eyes for a moment, wanting to compose yourself as the head of his cock presses against your throat and you inhale deeply through your nose just as Frankie says “eyes on me.” You open your eyes and look at him as you take him deeper, unaware that Pope is back and watching you and Frankie.

He sees Pope, but he doesn’t take his eyes off you. He knows the other man locked the building down and they were the only ones with the keys. Groaning when you swallow around him, his calloused and work rough hand caresses your cheek. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he coos. “Spread your thighs, sweetheart. Is your little clit throbbing?” Pope smirks, aware that Frankie’s raspy voice manages to make women dripping wet when he talks dirty. Dropping his own towel and wrapping his hand around his hard cock to squeeze it as he walks closer. Keeping quiet until he is kneeling behind you and sliding his other hand between your thighs to touch your cunt while his cock presses against your ass. “Already soaked, Fish.” He moans in your year, kissing just below it. “I think she likes sucking your cock.”

You moan around Frankie’s cock, knowing you shouldn’t feel like this. You shouldn’t like it this much, but you do. You work his cock deeper until you choke and saliva drips down your chin. You whimper when Pope rubs your clit and it’s been so long since someone else touched you, you grind down onto his hand while your fingers dig into Frankie’s ass to encourage him to rock his hips.

“Yeah she does.” Frankie grunts, moving his hand down so he can feel your throat work around him. It’s so sexy to see you on your knees, Pope behind you as he makes sure you’re ready to take both of them. “I say she swallows my load and I’ll eat her cunt like a good little girl while she sucks you off.”

Pope hums in agreement, kissing along your neck while his fingers work your clit. You whimper around Frankie's cock, nodding in pleasure and agreement. You can't believe how these two men have turned you into a wanton whore within moments but you desperately want to make them cum, to feel and see it.

Pope’s lips travel over your shoulders, up your neck. Kissing and licking, occasionally biting your skin as his fingers rub your clit. Eventually moving down and pressing two of his thick digits inside while twisting his wrist around to press his thumb back to your sensitive bundle of nerves. “She’s so tight, Fish.” He groans, loving how you clench around his fingers. “She’s gonna feel so good.”  

You clench around his fingers, lost in the sensations of his mouth and his hand caressing you. You choke on Frankie's cock as he pushes deep again and your jaw is starting to ache a little but you push through, wanting him to cum down your throat.

Frankie hisses, and rocks his hips forward again. Spit and pre-cum slide down your jaw and he loves how your eyes fill with tears and yet you don’t try to wipe them away. “So fuckin’ pretty.” He groans, “mouth like a fucking Hoover.” He can hear Pope’s fingers working in and out of your cunt over his grunts and the thick swallowing sounds and moaning around his cock. “Keep going, baby, want you to swallow my cum.” 

You want it too. Your throat swallows around him and your teary eyes flick up to meet his as he pushes deep enough to slide down your throat, the hairs at the base of his cock tickling your nose and that's when he falls apart. You close your eyes when he starts to cum, walls fluttering around Pope's fingers as you struggle to swallow the spurts of cum from Fish and his groan echoes in the break room.

“Shit….shiiiiiiiit.” He hisses, eyes nearly crossing in pleasure, handing tightening around your jaw as you swallow him down. Spurts of his cum push out of the corners of your mouth and he rubs his thumb in it to massage it into your skin. “That’s it, good girl.” 

You let him work himself dry and you swear you're dripping down Pope's wrist as you let Frankie use you until he is pulling his cock free of your mouth. He surges to lean down, pressing his lips against yours. Tongue pushing deep to taste himself on your tongue without care, and you whimper into his mouth.

Pope chuckles, biting down on your shoulder. “Frankie tastes good, sweetheart?” He asks as he curls his fingers deep inside you. “Let me have a taste.” He hums, not caring about tasting the other man’s spend. He’s done this before with him. Turning your head, he breaks the kiss with Frankie and captures your lips with his own as he pumps his finger inside you. 

You clench around Pope’s fingers as kisses you without care about the taste in your mouth. That makes you realize they’ve done this before and it makes you moan into his mouth as his fingers curl inside of you. You need more. You break the kiss and murmur against his chin, “wanna taste you next.”

Frankie chuckles, his cock shrinking back down and hanging flaccidly, but Pope is rock hard against your ass. “We should move this to the sofa.” He suggests, reaching for your arm. “Santi can lean back and I’ll bury my face in your cunt.” He’s eager to taste you, to see how you respond to his tongue. 

You nod and whine slightly as Santi removes his fingers from inside of you, and you let Frankie guide you to the sofa. “Kneel down, baby.” He demands and Santi sits on the end of the sofa, his cock hard and aching. You kiss his stomach that clenches before taking his cock in your hand and wrapping your fingers around him to guide him to your mouth.

Frankie groans, watching you take his friend’s cock into your mouth and he smirks. “She’s so fucking good, isn’t she?” He comments and Pope’s head bobbles in agreement. His own hands start to roam over your body, squeezing your ass and hips as he settles behind you and pulls your cheeks apart to get an up close look at your pulsing cunt. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.” He coos before leans in and buries his tongue inside your wet heat. 

You gasp around Santi’s cock. You didn’t expect them to go down on you, thought it was all just dirty talk. You expected a couple of blowjobs, both of them fucking you until they came but you never anticipated them making you cum once. You moan around Pope’s cock as Frankie ducks down so he can lick at your clit.

Frankie groans into your flesh, huffing when he can’t reach you like he wants to and he pulls away to flip onto his back. Sliding his head between your thighs and attacking your cunt from before, he lunges up latches onto your clit, wanting to hear you squeal. You’re sexy and you’re letting them fuck you so you should have just as much fun and pleasure as they do. 

You cry out, letting Pope’s cock drop from your mouth as you feel the pleasure tingle up your spine and you moan Frankie’s name. “That’s it baby. Let Frankie eat that tight pussy.” Santi coos, caressing your cheek and you shift to take him back into your mouth.

He squeezes your ass and encourages you to drop your hips, wanting your weight on his face. Pope chuckles and caresses your spine. “You’re so fucking pretty, can’t wait to see what you look like riding his cock, my cock. Maybe we’ll stuff you full at the same time.” He doubts that, considering he would have just cum, but it’s a nice thought. “Didn’t we tell you that we would take care of you?”

You lower your hips, a little self conscious but he makes you grind down onto him and you whine around Pope’s cock, eager to please him now that you realize they are going to look after you. You moan when Frankie’s tongue slides through your folds and you sloppily suck on Pope’s cock.

The breakroom sounds obscene. The sounds of sucking and swallowing, moans and grunts filthily filling the air. Frankie moans as your cunt gushes, coating his tongue in a fresh wave arousal and he slurps it down greedily. Rocking your hips to make you ride his face as he licks up into you. “Fuck, sweetheart, Fish is in heaven. His tongue buried in your sweet pussy. I bet he’s already getting hard thinking about fucking you.” Pope coos. “And after he gets done making you scream, I’ll fuck you so good you’ll see stars.” 

You swear you can hardly breathe as his filthy words make your pussy clench and you can’t handle it. You want these men. That’s become clear. You rock back onto Fish’s face, back arching as you try to take Pope’s cock deeper but he’s longer than Frankie, not as thick. You choke and saliva drips from your mouth as you try your best to make this blowjob one of the best he’s gotten.

“That’s it sweetheart.” Pope groans, “take it all. Fish, I swear I’m in fuckin’ love with her mouth.” He hisses, talking to Frankie underneath you. Fish grunts his agreement into your folds and is thankful that he had washed his hands, scrubbing them in the shower as he pushes two fingers inside you for you to clench around when you cum. “Cum for Frankie, sweetheart, soak his face.” 

You groan, rocking back onto Frankie’s face and you’re so close. So fucking close. His lips suck on your clit as his fingers curl inside of you. You moan around his cock as you cum, clamping down on Frankie’s fingers as he makes you orgasm.

Frankie’s spent cock twitches and he starts to harden again. Loving how you are soaking his face as he sucks on your clit. Your hips grinding down on his face and he moans happily. Working you through the orgasm with singular determination. 

You moan around Pope’s cock as Frankie works you through it and you want Pope to cum too. You wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, squeezing him, and you hollow your cheeks, wanting him to spill down your throat.

It takes a long moment before Frankie is willing to pull away. Listening to Pope’s groans getting breathier and lighter as he gets closer to coming. Finally pulling his head away and twisting his body so he can watch you swallow his friend down. “That’s it baby,” He grunts. “Make Santi cum. Swallow him down too so I can fuck you.” 

It takes a couple more bobs of your head for Santi to cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing as Frankie withdraws his fingers and Pope starts to spill down your throat. His groan is low and loud, echoing in the room as he twitches while he spills down your throat, making you moan around him.

“Fuck….” Santi hisses, head dropping back against the sofa and moaning out as he throbs in your mouth. 

“Fuck, girl, you are so gorgeous like this.” Frankie groans, chuckling as he wraps his wet hand around his cock and starts to slowly pump himself completely hard. “Swallow him down like a good girl.” He orders. 

You obey, eagerly swallowing every drop of cum. Santi cums less than Frankie, none of it dripping down your chin as you let the salty seed spurt down your throat until he’s softening in your mouth. You pull off of him and open your mouth, displaying your tongue to him to show you’ve swallowed every drop.

“Good girl.” Pope pants, grinning as he leans in to press his lips to yours. 

“Don’t be greedy, cabrón.” Frankie huffs, pulling you back and scowling at his grinning friend. Taking over kissing you greedily and tasting him out of your mouth with no issue. 

You’ve never known two men so comfortable with each other and it’s intoxicating. You cup his cheek as his tongue slides against yours. “Baby, I need - I need you to fuck me.” You whine into Frankie’s mouth.

He hums happily, pleased that you are begging him although he knows if he had just cum, you would be begging Pope. “I’m going to fuck you.” He promises. Leaning over and grabbing a condom off the table. “How do you want to be fucked, pretty girl?” He demands. “Back, hands and knees?” He rips the packet open and starts to roll it down his length. Wanting you to decide how he fills you. 

“On my back.” You answer breathlessly and Frankie nods, shifting back so you can lay down on the sofa. Pope frames your shoulders, looking down at you, and his hands instantly grab your tits. You moan and Frankie kneels on the sofa, pushing your legs apart so he can settle between them.

Shuffling closer and pumping his cock, Frankie looks down at you. Watching you squirm and moan under Pope’s touch. “Gonna fuck you, baby.” He promises, notching himself at your entrance and pulling one leg up to drag across the back of the sofa for more access. “Right now.” He grunts as he starts pushing in.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he stretches you out. He’s thick and you haven’t had sex in a while. Not since your ex. You reach up to grip Pope’s forearms as he squeezes your tits and you close your eyes. “Oh I think she likes that already, Cat.” Santi chuckles and you nod, mouth falling open as he pushes deeper until he’s fully inside of you.

“She’s fucking tight.” Frankie growls, gritting his teeth together and trying to control himself. Your hot walls around him make him just want to destroy you, but he needs to let you adjust. “Tightest little cunt I’ve ever fucked.” He hisses when you squeeze him in response to his twitching deep inside you.

You know he’s just lost in the moment but his words make you whine with need and Pope chuckles as he pinches your nipples. “God, she’s a cock hungry little whore, ain’t she?” He asks his best friend who nods and gives you another moment before he starts to move, pulling out of you almost all the way until he decides to push back in in a thrust that takes your breath away.

Frankie chuckles, loving the little squeak that gets cut off. “Let me hear you, baby.” He grunts, pulling back for another thrust. “No one here, you can scream my name as loud as you need to.” Snapping his hips forward, he drills into you again to start a harsh pace.

You can’t deny him. You cry out as he punches deep, feeling like he’s splitting you in two but you fucking love it. Your nails dig into Santi’s forearms as you take what Frankie gives you, moaning his name and you’re soaking him with wave after wave of arousal until your pussy starts to squelch with each thrust.

Luckily the sofa is leather and can be wiped off, otherwise you would be soaking it. Every time you gush around him. Making him groan as he rocks into you. “Is it worth it?” He grunts. “Letting us fuck you? Being our little slut for the night?”

You nod, “so- so worth it. Oh God. I- keep talking.” You beg, loving to hear his deep voice saying such filthy things. Pope chuckles, “keep going, Fish. She loves hearing you talk dirty. Had her soaking my fingers earlier.”

He chuckles and twitches inside you again. “She’s such a dirty slut.” He tells Pope. “I should just take off the condom and fill her cunt up with my cum, make a mess of her.” He hums. “Or I’ll pull out and cum all over her. Covering her like the little cum whore she is.” 

“Oh fuck yessss.” You moan out, lost in the haze of lust, “want you to fill me up. Please, baby. Please. I need - I want - oh God.” You pant as he rocks into you, his jaw clenched and you whine out as he pushes you up the sofa and into Pope’s lap.

He smirks, enjoying how much you are begging for it but he would never make that change while everyone is caught up in the moment. “Good girl.” He groans, “Maybe I’ll wait until Pope is hard again and we’ll both take a hole. Really fill you up. Would you like that, baby?” 

Your responding nod nearly makes your neck cramp. “Yes. Fuck. I- I want both of you. Want to feel both of you. I want - oh God. It’s so good, baby.” You pant, reaching up when you see Santi’s cock starting to get hard and you wrap your fingers around him while Frankie fucks you even harder. “Frank- I - oh shit.” You pant, getting closer and closer.

“That’s it, that’s it, pretty girl.” He pants out, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs as he fills you again and again. “Want you to cum for me. Want you to soak my cock. Scream my name.” He is practically begging but his hand snakes down between your bodies so he can rub your clit. “Cum for me.” 

His thumb on your clit is exactly what you need. You practically squeal as you break, clamping down on his cock and soaking him as you cry out his name. Your eyes are squeezed shut and your grip on Santi’s cock tightens as you experience your second orgasm.

Pope hisses, and his cock throbs in your hand. “Beautiful.” He groans, watching you with heavy lidded eyes as Frankie works you through your orgasm and pushes for his own. “Cum, hermano.” He urges. “I want to be inside her the next time she squeals.

Frankie grunts, grabbing your leg to push it back further and you moan, opening your eyes to watch him. “That’s it baby. Cum for me.” You demand, “wanna see you cum again.” You let go of Santi’s cock to grab the back of Frankie’s neck, dragging him down to press your lips to his.

Moaning in surprise at your ferocity, Frankie feels the tingling in the base of his spine. The rush of pleasure that happens right before his body starts to tighten. Thrusting haphazardly, he growls out your name, “gonna- fuck- gonna cum.” He warns you against your lips as he gives a short, half thrust before he is pushing deep and grinding his hips, cock pulsing deep inside your cunt as he feels the condom up with his release. Sliding his tongue into your mouth as he rides out the waves of bliss. 

You tangle your fingers in his hair and you kiss him back as he fills the condom up and slowly rocks into you, riding his orgasm. “Well goddamn.” Pope coos, enjoying the show and his cock throbs.

Frankie kisses you slowly until he is good and damn ready to pull out of you. Holding the base of the condom and rocking back to pull out gently. Caressing your thigh as he looks down at you. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He murmurs, smirking at your exhausted expression. “You got one more in you for us, don’t you?”

You nod, feeling boneless but you want Santi to cum too. Not because he’s footing the bill for your car but because you want him to fuck you.

You look up at Frankie and you offer him a lazy smile, “I do. Want Santi to fuck me.” You say and look up at Santi.

Frankie smirks proudly. “Good girl.” He shuffles back and lets Santiago take his place between your thighs. Standing up with a groan and walking over to the trash can to throw away the condom. “How do you want to be fucked this time?” The other man hums as he strokes a finger through your sensitive folds.

You whimper at the sensation and shift to kneel. “I want to ride you.” You tell Pope and he chuckles, reaching to smack your ass before he grabs the condom. “Let me -” He works fast to follow the rubber onto his cock and he hisses when you move fast to straddle his thighs. “Wanna feel you in my stomach.” You coo at him as you grip his cock and shuffle forward until you are sinking down onto him.

Even though he’s already cum, Frankie watches as you take Santi’s cock with eagerness. Knowing the man is enjoying himself from the way his thighs clench and he moans, hands gripping your ass and squeezing it. Unable to stop himself, Frankie cups your tits and pinches your nipples, biting down on your shoulder sharply before soothing it with his tongue. “So, ride him, sweetheart.” He orders. “Bounce on his cock like a little slut and show us what you've got.” 

You clench around Santi’s cock at the filthy words and decide to follow orders. You grip Santi’s shoulders and start to move, lifting up until his cock nearly falls out of you before you sink back down. A moan escapes your lips and you squeeze his shoulders. “Fuck. You - it’s like you’re in my guts.” You confess, unable to to believe how long he is.

Pope chuckles and Frankie continues to tease and torment your nipples. “Want to be deep. So fucking deep you feel me for days.” He tells you, snapping his hips up.

You let out a noise that's half gasp, half moan, and your nails dig into his shoulders as Frankie kisses along your neck. It's overwhelming and incredible. "Shit. I will. I won't be able to - to walk tomorrow." You declare, loving the thought even if you need to work. "Fuck. I - oh God." You tilt your hips as you rock down and the change in angle has your head tilting back and a moan of Santi's name escaping your lips.

“Good.” Frankie growls, kissing along your neck. “Don’t walk. Or if you do, feel us every time you move.” He slaps your ass while still fondling your tits with his other hand. Sliding it lower to rub the puckered hole that is so close to where you are taking Pope.

You gasp at the slight invasion until you moan, "God. Want you - want you both inside of me. Wanna feel you both cum inside of me at the same time." Your inhibitions are gone as they tear you apart with their words and their actions, making you desperate to please and desperate to feel more.

Frankie smirks and pulls his fingers away to spit on them. “My fingers are going to have to do, Princess.” He teases. “You’ve drained me dry. Milked me for every drop of cum with that perfect mouth and cunt.” He rubs your hole again and starts to slowly press his fingers into you.

The added pressure has you shaking above Pope who has to thrust up into you, his hands grabbing your ass to spread your cheeks for Frankie to push his fingers deeper. The stretch has you closing your eyes, feeling fuller than ever before with Santi's cock still inside of you. "Oh fuck. That's - you're gonna make me cum." You rush out, body shaking even harder as Frankie pushes his fingers deeper and starts to move them inside of you.

“That’s it, baby, cum for us.” Pope coos. “Come apart, want to see you, hear you scream.” He chuckles and leans in to bite at your bottom lip. “Cum.”

You practically scream into his chin as the two men work your body until you’re clamping down on Pope’s cock, soaking him and clenching around Frankie’s fingers as your orgasm hits you like a steam train.

You’re a stranger to them, they don’t know you, they don’t know your life - but they know what you look like when you cum. Watching you while they are holding their breaths, thinking that you are gorgeous as you shake and gasp for them.

You collapse forward onto Santi’s chest as he rocks up into your pussy, getting closer and closer until he freezes beneath you and lets out a groan as he spills into the condom. “Shit.” You pant into his skin while Frankie kisses along your spine.

Panting, Santiago grins as he tries to catch his breath. Squeezing your ass and rocking you languidly on his still stiff cock. “You’ve blown my mind, baby.” He hums, very pleased with the way this situation has turned out. “Definitely.”

You smile, “glad we could help each other out.” You thought you were fucked when you were told the cost of the repair or your car but you now acknowledge that it’s one of the best things to happen to you. “Might have to come back when she dies on me again.” You murmur as Frankie removes his fingers from inside of you and you shift off of Pope’s cock after he holds the condom.

Frankie smirks as he helps you off the sofa. “You can come back anytime, baby.” He promises with a wink. “You can use the bathroom in the breakroom, or go two doors down and use the shower.” He likes you, but you had done this so you could have your car, not for any other reason. He looks over at Pope and chuckles at the very satisfied look on his friend’s face.

You decide to use the shower, knowing that even if they hadn’t cum inside of you, you are sweaty and you want to wash off. “I’ll go shower.” You shift off of the sofa and stumble as you try to get your balance and the boys chuckle at their handiwork.

Completely at easy with his own nudity, Frankie walks over to the sink to wash his hands. Then going over to the fridge to pull out two beers, striding back over to the sofa to hand Pope one and then opening it as he flops down onto the couch beside him. “You actually had a good idea, asshole.” He huffs, smirking as he takes a sip of the beer.

Santiago smirks, “reckon she’ll be back?” He asks, “I hope she is. Does that sound bad? I don’t want her to get into an accident but Jesus, that pussy? Worth doing some free work and writing off parts for, huh?”

Frankie snorts and shrugs. “Not too bad. Not like you fucked with the timing belt so she has to come back.” He smirks to himself, thinking that it wasn’t too bad of an idea, but he hadn’t done that. He had fixed it the best he was able. “But that car’s a piece of shit, so who knows? She might become a regular.”

You wash off with their cheap 3-in-1 men’s body wash and kinda like how you smell like them after all the sex is washed from your body. You realized you need to get your clothes from the break room and walk in with the towel wrapped around you. “Decent water pressure you have in here.” You say as you reach for your panties and drop the towel, uncaring now they have seen every part of your body.

Pope chuckles and nods. “After showering in the shittiest places all over the world and having no water pressure, Fish demanded that we have a good shower.” His answer makes you tilt your head curiously and he shrugs. “Army, special forces.” He reminds you, “plenty of times we get ready to go out here, saves us a trip home.” 

You nod, understanding and hating that you feel a little jealous about them going on dates. You have zero reason to feel possessive. You don’t know them, yet you want them to yourself. You fasten your bra and redress fast, sliding your feet into your shoes. “So, uh, I guess if I have any issues I’ll come see you again?” You ask, biting your lip as you stand while they sit on the sofa.

Frankie smirks and nods. “Anytime, baby, but I guarantee you won’t have problems on the shit I worked on.” He promises. “I don’t do sloppy work.” He’s not boasting, even though it might sound that way. He’s reassuring you that your car is as fixed as he could get it with what he worked on. “We were serious though, you need to start looking for another car.” 

You nod, “I know. I, uh, I gotta save up some cash. I’ll see what I can do.” You sigh and Frankie stands up, still naked. “Thank you. For everything.” You say and hug him, breathing him in before you kiss him. Santi stands up a moment later, his hand on your waist and you switch to hug him, his lips eagerly finding yours.

While you kiss Pope, Frankie finds a pair of shorts to throw on so he can escort you to the door. He palms the keys to your car and when you pull away from Santi, he holds them up. “Let’s go get you back on the road so you can go to work tomorrow.” He hums. 

You step back from Santi and take your keys. "Thank you so much guys." You thank them, "seriously, thank you. You saved me." You look them both in the eyes, and Santi winks at you, "our pleasure...literally."

Frankie walks you to your car, waiting for you to slide into the driver’s seat before handing you the keys and closing the door to lean in the window. “Thank you for tonight.” He murmurs quietly and leans in to kiss your cheek. “Best pussy I’ve had.” He winks at you when he pulls back and taps the door. 

You fluster, fumbling with your keys to turn the ignition, and Frankie stands there until you put the car in drive and make your way down the gravel driveway to the road. When you are driving home, you process what just happened and you think you should be disgusted with yourself for essentially whoring your body out to get your car fixed for free but you loved every second of it. Your car cruises along and you smirk as you stop at a light. It would be a shame if something else happened to you and you had to go back to the shop.

****

A week has passed and even though Frankie has thought about that night, especially when he’s in the break room, neither man has heard from you. It’s a good thing, really. It means that your car is working properly and you’ve been living your life. Leaning on the engine of a Ford Taurus that needs new spark plugs, Frankie’s back is to the lot when he hears the crunch of tires on the gravel. Another customer. He hears them pull the car to a stop and the door opens. “Go inside.” he calls out over his shoulder as he carefully replaces the first plug. “Santiago can help you.”

“I was kinda hoping you’d get your hands on my engine and make her purr.” You declare and Frankie hisses as he hits his head on the hood. “You’re back.” He says, rubbing his head and you nod, “she’s having issues again.” You bite your lip, “was wondering if you and Santi could help me out.” You’ve spent all week thinking about the two men, almost wishing your car would crap out so you could call Santi again to pick you up and help you out.

“Yeah?” The engine sounded fine to him when you had pulled up but he smirks slightly as he holds out a hand for the keys. “Leave her with me.” He promises. “I’ll find out what's wrong just as soon as I’m done with this one.” He cocks his head. “Might take awhile though. ‘Til closing.” He teases, cock twitching and he wonders if there is something actually wrong or if his instinct is right and your back to get get fucked again. 

You hand him the keys and offer him a small smile, not wanting to give away what your intentions are. You bite your lip and walk into the waiting room to find Santi sitting behind the desk. “You’re back?” His eyes widen and you nod, feigning a sigh, “she’s making strange noises again.” You tell him and shift from one foot to the other, “Frankie said he’d be checking it out after the one he’s working on now.”

Santiago nods and motions towards the waiting area. “You can wait out here or you know where the break room is.” He smirks slightly and licks his lips as he remembers the last time you were in that room. “You know that we will take care of it, of you.” He drops his voice down and watches as your eyes swim with lust. 

You decide to make your intentions known and walk down to the break room. Exhaling shakily, you wait for someone to follow you and it doesn’t take long for Santi’s hands to find your waist as you look up at the tv in the corner. “You come in for another issue?” He asks, voice low in your ear. “She’s not purring like she should be. Figured I should get it checked out.”

“Hmmmm.” Santiago smirks, seeing through your weak story and he presses close, flattening his front against your back. “Frankie will fix her.” He promises, whispering the words into your ear and grinning when you shudder. “Question is, how expensive will it be? And how will you pay for it?” 

“I - I was thinking…maybe you could honor the last deal we had? Since it’s only been a week and it’s gone wrong already.” You say softly, feeling a little ashamed until his nose nudges your neck and his warm breath washes over your skin, making you shiver.

Since the customer wasn’t waiting for the car he had been working on, Frankie abandoned it as soon as you walked inside and started looking at yours. Quickly finding out that nothing is wrong with the car beyond what he knew about a week ago. He chuckles to himself as he wipes his hands as he walks over to the door. No one else is at the shop and once again, you are alone with the two men. He walks in to find you and Santiago looking very intimate and he hums. “Well, sweetheart, looks like you’re in another bind.” He lies, feigning concern. “Transmissions gone and it’s gonna be at least a thousand bucks.” 

You make sure you look a little distraught as you turn to face the other man. “I- you know I don’t have the money. Can we - can we honor the last deal we had?” You ask, sticking your lower lip out.

His eyes slide behind you to Pope and it’s obvious that he’s seen through your charade. Pretending to consider it, he bites his lip. “Depends on what you’ll let us do, baby.” he finally decides. “We’ve both fucked you, gotten our dicks sucked. What can you give us this time?” Your eyes widen and he smirks. “I’m thinking that you let us fuck you bare this time.” He growls. “No condom. Both holes.” 

You close your eyes, trying to refrain from your shiver of anticipation, and you pretend to consider it. “And you’ll do what it takes to fix my car?” You ask, “for free?” Frankie nods and you bite your lip, “deal.” You hold your hand out and he takes it, dragging you to him so he can press his lips to yours. You moan into the kiss, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair as Santi comes up behind you to kiss your neck and work on the button of your jeans. It’s as overwhelming as it was before but you’re already drunk on them both.

They should stop and clean up. Shower, but somehow Frankie doesn’t think that you care how clean they are. Maybe you even prefer the idea of sweaty, hardworking men using you. His tongue slides into your mouth as he snakes a hand up your shirt to squeeze your tit over the lacy bra you are wearing. Something you obviously put on in anticipation of getting fucked. Frankie drags his lips away from yours to groan. “Do you want her ass?” He asks Pope, knowing the man loves anal.

The way he discusses you like you’re an object shouldn’t make you clench around nothing but it does and Santi’s fingers slide into your lace panties to find your clit and you moan, arching your chest into Frankie’s hand. “Of course, hermano. Her ass is mine. You take her pussy. She’s already wet for us.” He chuckles darkly as he twists his hand to slide his finger through your folds as Frankie pulls your shirt over your head.

“Of course she is.” Frankie scoffs. “We’re going to make her cum. Multiple times. How often does that happen?” He quickly unhooks your bra and ducks his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple and bites down on it. 

You pant, “not too often until - until I came here.” You confess, “ex didn’t make me - not like you do.” You admit breathlessly as Santi works on pulling down your jeans, helping you kick off your sneakers and he groans at the sight of the lacy thong. “Someone had high hopes.” He teases and you chuckle breathlessly, “don’t hear you complaining.”

Frankie pulls off your tit with a pop and chuckles. “Oh we aren’t complaining, baby” he promises. “I’m just trying to decide if Pope’s gonna lick your pussy while I’m balls deep or we’re gonna double team making you cum on our tongues before you get our cocks.”

“Shit.” You hiss, your body almost vibrating with need for them. You’ve spent every night since you came here to get your car fixed thinking about them with your hand between your thighs. “What - whatever you want. I’m yours. You can do whatever you want to me.”

“Oh we’re going to.” His chuckle is bordering on mean and Pope smacks your ass. “Gotta get a thousand dollars worth of pussy.” Pope teases, sliding his hand back between your thighs and pushing two fingers inside you. Frankie hums and decides he can’t wait. “You’re going to sit on my cock while Pope eats you out.”

You nod, unable to deny the man a thing. He quickly strips out of his overalls and there’s something so sexy and raw about him as he strips down and Santi notices, chuckling as you clench around his fingers. When Fish sits down naked on the sofa, Pope withdraws his fingers and you shift to straddle Frankie but he shakes his head and turns you around. You nod and shuffle back, gripping his cock so you can sink down onto him, bare and thick. “Holy shit.” You moan, leaning back into his chest and Frankie spreads your legs a little wider.

Frankie groans and slides his hands up your thighs to cup both of your breasts. Pope is staring at your cunt, his cock pushing deep as he strips out of his own clothes. “Fuck, she’s even better without the condom.” Frankie pants as he rolls your nipples with his fingers and twists them slightly to hear you gasp.

You moan in agreement, “can feel all of you.” You reach back to run your fingers through his hair as Pope strips down. His cock bounces as he comes over to the sofa, kneeling down in front of you and you watch him as you start to work yourself on Frankie’s cock. On your tiptoes as you try to lift yourself enough to ride him.

Grunting, Frankie rocks his hips up to fill you again. Enjoying the squeal and he squeezes your breasts roughly again. “Couldn’t get enough of us, could you?” He grunts. “Too bad we aren’t your landlords. You could just pay rent in pussy.” He teases. “Be our personal cocksleeve.”

“Fuck.” You pant, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “I fucking wish.” You declare and Santi runs his hands along your thighs, bringing your attention to him. You look down and his dark eyes meet yours as he leans forward to slide his tongue against your clit, just above where Frankie’s cock is disappearing inside of you. “Oh my God.” You whine at the added sensation.

“Eat her pussy good, Pope.” Frankie orders as he starts to nibble and lick on your neck. “She deserves to cum before we’re filling these little holes with our loads.” He groans when you clench down on him. “You like that, baby? You want to drip our cum? We can jerk off on you too.”

“Yes. Shit. I want - I want you to ruin me. Use me. Cum on me. In me. Do- do whatever you want.” You ramble, knowing that you’re completely drunk on them. You’ve never been treated like this and it has you begging for more. Pope’s tongue slides along your folds and you moan when he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Slapping your breast, Frankie bites down on your shoulder, hoping to leave teeth impressions. Leaving a mark on your skin. He rocks his hips up and hums. “We will. You’re such a willing little slut for us.” He hisses, loving how much you enjoy the dirty talk.

“I am. Only for you. Only ever like this for you two. Fuck, Frankie. I- shit.” You reach down to tangle your fingers in Santi’s hair, rocking your hips again to try and find the spot to make you cream. “Oh God.” You gasp when you find it, rocking frantically as you work yourself up to your orgasm.

“That’s it. Fuck you get so tight.” Frankie coos as you bounce on his dick. “Cum for us. Cum and Pope will slide into your ass and you can cum again. And again until we finally fill up your little holes and let you feel us for another week.”

His words combined with his cock and Pope’s mouth around your clit has you falling apart. You squeal, closing your legs around Pope’s head as you collapse back against Frankie while you convulse with your climax. “Oh oh ohhh.” You cry out, eyes clenched shut.

Frankie groans, twitching inside you and trying to bite his lip to control himself. Wanting to make sure that he doesn’t cum too early. He wants to fill you up when Pope is also inside you.

You relax, panting as you work through your orgasm, and Pope caresses your thighs while you recover. "Frank, lay down and let her sit on your cock while I get her ready." Pope says, slapping your thigh. The other man nods and you shift off of him so he can lay down on the sofa.

Frankie watches as you straddle him, smirking as he leans up and bites the top of your tit and smacks your thigh. “You ready to take both of us, baby?” He asks roughly, eager to stretch you out and hear you scream again. You’re addicting and so fucking eager for their touch.

You nod, a little apprehensive but eager. You have done anal before with your ex so you know what to expect but you've never had two men at the same time. You shiver as Pope straddles the sofa behind you, a bottle of lube in his hand. "You had that hanging around?" You tease breathlessly.

Pope chuckles and he shrugs. “Spit sucks when you’re jerking off.” He tells you easily, before he opens the bottle to squirt it onto his fingers. “Gonna work you open for a few minutes, baby. Want you to enjoy it.”

You gasp softly when his fingers prod at your puckered hole and you whimper when he pushes a finger into you. "Fuck baby." You murmur, clenching around Frankie's cock while his hands caress your waist and up to your tits.

“It’s okay, baby.” Frankie coos softly. “We aren’t going to wreck you until you’re ready.” He promises. He knows that Pope is eager to slide inside you, but the man is a trained operator, he has the patience to wait until it will be nothing but the sweetest pinch of pain for you. “Open up for him. Let us make you fly.”

You nod, eyes fluttering closed when Pope adds another finger, scissoring to try and open you up a little more. You gasp again, "God, it feels good." You confess, rocking slightly on Frankie's cock as Santi opens you up for him.

“Kiss me, pretty girl.” Frankie orders, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and dragging you down to his lips. You’re intoxicating and he wants to gorge himself on you while Pope works you open and slides inside your tight little hole.

You slide your tongue against his and you moan into his mouth as Pope adds a third finger, pumping them deep and you pant into Frankie’s mouth. “Oh God. I need - please. Need you both inside of me now.” You beg, needing to feel fuller than ever before.

Frankie and Pope both chuckle because of how desperate that you sound. Frankie kisses you again as Pope slowly withdraws his fingers and reaches for the luge again to generously coat his cock in the clear jelly. “Relax for me, sweetheart.” His hand caresses your spine as he shuffles closer and presses the head of his cock to your puckered hole as Frankie holds your hips steady.

You inhale deeply, preparing yourself to take his cock. You bite your lip as he pushes into you and you wince at the slight pinch but it disappears as soon as it comes, and you are moaning when Pope pushes into you and you feel fuller than you've ever felt in your life. "Holy shit." You hiss, body almost shaking from the sensation.

“That’s it, baby.” Frankie caresses your sides. “You’re doing so good. You look so fucking pretty split open by our cocks. Doesn’t she, Pope?”

"Fucking incredible, hermano." Pope says as he watches his cock disappear into your ass and you're so fucking tight. He thought your pussy was tight but this is - it's mind numbing. "I need you to move." You tell them, thighs shaking slightly.

“We’re gonna move.” Frankie promises, lifting his hips and slowly starting to scrub his cock along your walls. “You just hold still and let us do all the work, baby.”

You can’t move, sandwiched between the two men as their cocks push deep until they start to move. Frankie moves first then Pope, alternating so you’re always full of one cock and it’s overwhelming, more than you’ve ever felt before. Inhumane whines and cries escape your lips as you let them use your body.

Frankie can tell you love it, even if you can’t speak right now. Your tight little cunt is made even tighter by Pope and he can feel the other man through the thin wall. Sliding his hand around your hip as he rocks his own up, his thumb finds your clit and he presses against it to start rubbing tight circles over the bundle of nerves.

You squeal at the added stimulation. It’s too much and yet not enough at the same time. You shake as you let them use your body for their pleasure and the pleasure you receive back is making your eyes water. It’s so good. “Oh fuck.” You finally gasp out and Santi kisses along your neck, biting down your shoulder the opposite side of Frankie’s bite.

Frankie groans and slaps your thigh. “Fuck you’re so pretty like this.” He hisses. “Gonna be even prettier filled with our cum. Wanna take a picture of those cum filled holes.”

"Yesss. Do it. I wanna - I wanna see." You confess and try to rock your hips but they have you trapped between them as they rock into you. 

Pope groans when you grip his cock unconsciously, "so fucking tight. Thought your pussy was tight but mierda, this is- shit." He hisses and rocks into you, over and over while Frankie rubs your clit, his thick cock pushing deep until you burst. "Oh I'm gonna - I'm gonna - oh fu-!" Your cry becomes a choke as you clamp down on Frankie's cock.

Both men have to stop moving because you are shaking so hard, your walls gripping them like a vice and they each moan. Frankie groans your name when you collapse forward and Pope grips your hips and immediately starts rocking into you frantically.

You are sweaty and overstimulated but you want them to fill you up. “Come on baby. Fill me up. Want to be dripping both of you. Want you to take - take a photo to keep. Want - shit - I need your cum.” You pant out, turning your head to press your lips to Santi’s jaw.

Pope chuckles and nods. “We will.” He promises before he kisses your mouth. Frankie grunts, watching the kiss as he starts to move again, falling into that alternating rhythm with Pope. “Fuck, you’re such a little slut. I fuckin’ love it.”

You pant, “yesss. For you. Only for you. Yours. This body belongs to you both.” You promise as Pope kisses your chin, his grunts get louder and more ragged. “Cum for me, fill me up.”

Santiago is the first one to tip over the edge. Gritting his teeth and hissing out your name as his hips slap against your ass once, twice more before he is letting out a strangle grown and grinding deep, cock pulsing as he fills your ass.

You love the way his fingers dig into your hips as he holds you close while he cums. "Cum for me, Frankie." You demand, wanting to feel the other man spill inside of you too.

Frankie pants out an acknowledgment of what you had moaned and rockets up the pace of his thrusts. Bracing his feet on the sofa and fucking up into you as hard as he can.

All you can do is hang on as Frankie fucks up into you a half dozen more times before he’s cumming, filling you up and making you shudder as the sensation of both men cumming inside of you gives you a small aftermath orgasm that makes your pussy milk Frankie for every drop.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” Frankie groans, pulling you close to kiss you again. His tongue is surprisingly gentle, intimate instead of demanding while he rides out his orgasm inside your perfect cunt.

You kiss him back just as eagerly, moaning into his mouth and Pope kisses along your shoulder, “so good.” He murmurs into your skin and you hum your agreement. 

“God, I definitely don’t think I can walk for a while.” You giggle and rest your weight on Frankie as he twitches inside of you.

Frankie chuckles. “It’s a good thing you don’t have to.” He tells you and smirks at Santiago. “Go get your phone.” He orders. “So we can take a picture of those cum filled holes.” He had meant it when he said he wanted a photo. His eyes slide over to you. “If you will let us take one.” He adds. “Not your face though. And it’s only for us.”

You nod, “no face. Only for you.” You tell them and Pope nods, slowly pulls out of you. “Clench baby. Keep it in.” He orders and you giggle, trying to stop his cum from pushing out of you. You frown slightly at knowing it’s gonna be a bitch to clean up but it was worth it.

Frankie smirks at the face you make as you clench down, twitching inside you even as he softens. Santiago goes to grab his phone out of his pocket and comes back over. “Pull off Fish’s cock, baby, and stick your ass out.” He orders as he opens the camera app and zooms in.

You follow his orders, lifting off of Frankie and you lean forward to display your ass and pussy to the camera. You reach behind you to spread your cheeks, giving him more of an eyeful as their cum starts to drip from inside of you.

"Fuck, you are so perfect." Pope groans, snapping several photos of the creamy mess they have made of you. "So fucking perfect." He repeats, smirking down at the screen when he gets done. Frankie hums his agreement as he watches you.

“I need to shower but I don’t think I can stand up.” You declare as you let go of your ass and shift to sit on the leather sofa, wincing at the aches already happening to your body.

Frowning slightly at your discomfort, Frankie swings his feet off the sofa and stands up, before he leans down and pulls you up into his arms with a soft grunt. He's carried grown men when he was in the Army, 300 pound packs of gear; and since getting out - hauled around heavy engine parts. Carrying you to the shower is not a big deal. "Then I'll just carry you." He tells you with a smirk.

Your eyes widen and you wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you to the shower. It’s incredibly sexy and you almost want him to fuck you again but you can’t take anymore sex right now. He sets you against the wall as he turns on the water and you bite your lip, watching him and Santi enters the shower a few seconds later. “How the hell are you two single? Holy shit. You are single?” Your eyes widen as you realize you never had that conversation with them.

Frankie snorts and Santi chuckles. "Baby, if we weren't single, we wouldn't be fucking you." He assures you quietly as Frankie reaches for the 3-in-1 body wash and the loofa that is hanging from the shower knob. 

"We aren't that sleazy." Frankie adds, lathering up the loofa and kneeling down to start washing you. "Although I'm wondering when you're going to admit there was nothing wrong with your car."

You fluster, watching Frankie as he washes you, his hand tenderly sliding through your folds to wash you. “I, uh, I was going to…eventually.” You confess bashfully. “I thought - well, I didn’t want you to think I was easy or- or desperate by coming back to say I needed you to fuck me.” You admit, biting your lip.

"Don't think either one." He makes sure he cleans you gently, knowing you have to be sore and he doesn't miss the way that your hands are holding onto Pope as he leans you against him. "The sex is amazing and I'd be lying if I wasn't thrilled when you came back."

You smile, “I’m glad you think so. I- fuck. Do you think I could get regular tune ups at home? Would be nice to get a service in a bed.” You smirk, “saves me having to drive to the shop.”

Pope looks over your shoulder and down at Frankie. The other man smirks as he pushes to his feet, the loofa abandoned and his soapy hands cup your tits. "We are mechanics." Frankie teases, "we can make anything purr." He loves the way you gasp when he pinches your nipples. "Especially you."

You moan and Pope kisses your cheek, “we can make house calls.” You kiss his lips and grin, “perfect. I can’t wait to see what else you can do.” You giggle and Santi caresses your sides, “oh baby, we are just getting started.” You smirk and enjoy the way the men sandwich you between them. 

“We can set you up for regular maintenance.” Frankie promises and kisses you softly. You all wash up and dry off, redressing and soon the boys are walking you to your car. “She’s good to go but we will need to check on her this weekend. Saturday?” They ask and you nod, “you have my number and address from my file. I’ll see you then boys.” You wink and gingerly get into your car. You pull out of the garage parking lot and the men watch you go. 

“Best fucking tow pick up ever.” Santi slaps Frankie on the back and Catfish nods, “and we are only getting started.” The men smirk as your car makes its way down the road, several problems that need fixing soon orchestrated by the mechanics to guarantee they see you again. Even if it wasn’t necessary after all.

[albatmobile]

parent teacher conferences and other places to meet a pornstar

next: [2] [3] coming soon: [4] || ao3

𓅪 Rated: E | 4.5k includes: cam girl AU, teacher AU, masturbation, public sex, caught, fingering, voyeurism, come swallowing, facial, deep throating misunderstandings, confessions

𓅪 cam girl fem!reader x jason todd, eventual cam girl fem!reader x roy harper, eventual cam girl fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

You hate people your age. Always quick to judge and even quicker to shun. 

Kids, on the other hand? You could deal with them.

Kids couldn’t turn their noses up at you, they couldn’t gossip about you and they definitely couldn’t use Google. If they could, they’d find your not so clean history. You’ve never been fucking arrested- none of that shit. No, you needed to make up extra money to compensate for the low paycheck you take as a teacher during the day by becoming a camgirl at night.

It hasn’t been a problem at this school yet, but it always seems to pop up at the most inconvenient times. Eventually, a dad catches whiff of it, their wife gets jealous and you’re quietly let go. This is your third school in four years and you really don't want there to be a fourth. 

That’s why you dread running into parents who come to pick up their kids.

You catch this all-telling gaze of a redheaded man from across your classroom. He’s helping Lian with the cupcakes she’d brought in for her birthday today and you quickly adjust your glasses, hoping he won’t recognize you.

The hope is in vain.

Your smile is strained as he makes his way over to you with his little girl and leftover cupcakes in tow. His gate is too assured, his eyes too jovial. So, you do what you do best: ignore the parents. 

You bend down to Lian’s level to help her remove the cupcake wrapper from the red cupcake her dad’s given her. “Did you have a good birthday in class today, Lian?” you ask. The little girl nods excitedly, chomping into the dessert with gusto. “Do you have any fun plans for tonight?”

Your question is obviously for Lian, but it’s her dad who responds, “Do you?” 

You clear your throat, standing from your squat as you face the redheaded man. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hit on, but it always throws you off guard when it happens.

You shut him down easily, “Grading Lian’s test from today. Isn’t that right?”

Her pigtails bounce up and down. “It was about the different types of clouds in the ‘mosphere.”

“Atmosphere,” you correct her with an amused smile.

Much to your chagrin, he continues on like you haven’t rejected him. “You look like someone I know,” he trails off as if trying to place your face.

Mr. Harper- Roy, you correct yourself, looks to be in his mid-30’s. He has a decent amount of stubble, crows feet grace the corners of his verdant eyes and his hair looks like it used to be a brighter orange than the faded strawberry color it is now. He’s exactly the type of audience you cater to on your porn channel.

“A person you know of,” you repeat his words with a disinterested drawl. You wish the conversation would resolve itself or just fucking end. This beating around the bush shit isn’t for you. “Odd phrasing, but alright.” You need to change the subject and quick. “I’ll be seeing you at the open house next week, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, babe.” 

You barely contain your eyeroll as you correct him on your name. “It’s Miss,” you tell him your last name again sternly.

“You’re killing me, Miss,” he says your last name, obeying your correction. 

“Tragic, I’m sure. Anyway,” you continue on unphased as you focus on saying goodbye to Lian.

He finally moves out of your classroom but lingers in the doorway. “Have you… Were you ever a librarian?” he asks suddenly.

Don’t reveal anything. Don’t reveal anything.

You calm your breathing. It’s too pointed of a question for him to not know the video that made you famous: a librarian who gets bent over any and every surface in the library.

“I’ll see you next week, Mr. Harper,” is all you respond.

You’re fucked.

➸💋➸

The Sunday before the parent teacher conference, you’re scheduled to stream. 

All your content except one video, the one of you as a librarian, is solo streams and uploads, which makes it easy for you to make content and stick to a schedule. The one production video you did required a lot of coordinating and planning in advance. It ended up being a total hassle and, in the end, the money was about the same. That’s why you like your streams. You’re able to wear what you want, use whatever toys you want and you get to pick the location. 

The library closest to you is always deserted, especially so on the second floor where the old Fax Machines are stored. The second floor holds records, old newspapers and magazines as well as a smaller collection of nonfiction. Total snoozefest for some, but the perfect public filming spot for you. 

The nonfiction section is a separate room from the rest of the second floor and is hidden behind the shelf of vintage magazines. You’ve filmed in here a few times before, but never streamed. This is why you’ve chosen to come in around two hours before they close to eliminate as many opportunities as possible for someone to catch a peak.

You’re giddy as you wave to the librarian who always seems to be behind the counter as you make your way up to your favorite spot. You’re wearing a cotton, white wrap dress, no bra, red thong and heels. The light material shows off everything. Coupled with your signature glasses, you look irresistible.

There’s one desk inside the room, right in the middle that you quickly shove out of the doorway view. The heavy desk is the bane of your existence, especially in your fucking heels, but this way no one can see you unless they literally walk into the room. It’s not fool-proof, but it’s what you’re working with.

Always punctual, you start your stream right on time. 

avid_reader began stream 

Slowly, viewers trickle in as butterflies stir in your stomach. No matter how many times you stream, you always feel a rush of anxiety as soon as you click ‘Start.’ 

Private streams are a whole different ballgame. 

Though you do offer it, you charge a steep price for private cams. So far, only your top fan has been able to meet that price more than once. The dude isn’t a creep, nor did he have any kinks you weren’t comfortable with and hell, the dude was pretty funny, too. Out of all the fans to get you in private, you’re glad he’s the only reoccurring one. 

From his requests, you can definitely tell he’s an ass man. You also know that he likes when you wear clothes like you are today: inconspicuous yet revealing. Though he’d never say no to your lingerie, he always preferred tight fitting, see-through tops and short skirts more so than babydolls and matching sets.

Before you get too into everything, you tease the camera you’ve set up on the desk with your nipples that poke through the fabric. You adjust your glasses that fall down the bridge of your nose as you do so, earning you your first tip of the night. 

You like to wait for your top fan to join, or at least give him a chance to, but you don’t have to wait too long before his name pops up.

inmyarsenal: this is gona b gud 

Though his typing is horrendous, it easily brings a smile to your face, something he notices and tips generously for. 

It’s going to be a good night.

You reach your first goal and slowly draw your tits out of your dress out into the open. Your nipples are already perky as you grasp your hands around them and squeeze. Your nipples poke through your fingers as you jiggle your grip around your breasts 

inmyarsenal: someone’s gonna walk in on you babe

You bite your lip, looking toward the empty doorway. “I’ve been lucky thus far.”

inmyarsenal: i want t walk in on u baby. sO good for me

He sends another tip, completing your next goal all on his own. 

“Eager today, aren’t we?”

Your stomach flips, knowing what comes next. You shoot another worrying gaze toward the doorway before scooting the chair back a bit from the desk so the camera can see down to your knees as you spread them. Your red thong is on full display for your thousands of viewers.

You pull up on the fabric, leaving the thong to disappear into your pussy lips as you do. You tease a bit longer like this before finally pulling the fabric away and exposing yourself fully. 

You spend a few minutes slowly rubbing your cunt until you feel wet enough for what comes next. You tease the egg vibrator against your entrance, noting how the tips come in what seems like every second now. Within a minute, you reach your next chat goal- this one allows the tippers in the chat to set the speed of your vibrator. The more they tip, the longer they get control over it.

You slip the egg inside of you with a breathy moan. You use the silicone string that hangs out to continue to make the vibrator bob in and out of your hole, moving the camera to offer an up-close view of it.

No one in the chat gets a chance to call dibs before your top fan swoops in with a tip big enough to control the remote for over 15 minutes. You both know that you won’t last that long with him on the controls.

He starts off strong tonight, easing you into it for only so long before he ups the ante. Your settings on the app allow your viewers to control the tempo with their own vibration patterns that they create, meaning every single sinful vibration is caused personally by him. It makes it that much better. 

Today, however, it’s like he has a personal vendetta against you or something. The way he’s controlling your vibrator, he clearly wants you to leave the library with a squirt stain on your dress. Hell, he’d probably tip extra just for you to film your walk of shame, too, the fucking sadist. 

“Fuck,” you hiss. You can’t hold back your moans any longer, not caring how loud you’re being when it feels this good. 

One hand teases your nipples and squeezes your tits while the other rubs desperately at your clit. Your legs are spread over each side of your chair at this point, though they’re not much support when they’re shaking this hard. 

You’re about to come when you notice him out of the corner of your eyes.

“Shit!” 

He’s not the ugliest person to orgasm to, that’s for sure. The man, however, is someone you fucking know.

ABORT! ABORT!

If anything, your top fan seems to pick up that someone’s walked in on you and uses the last few seconds of his control to push the vibrator to its limit. Your hips fly from the chair, arching as you orgasm with a pathetic whine.

You end your stream, shaking and panting, while your come-hazed mind struggles to address the Wayne ward in front of you.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you rush, trying to regulate your breathing.

You’ve already covered yourself up with your dress, but your thong is around your ankles and there’s no nonchalant way to fix it. That, and the large wet stain that now adorns the lower half of your dress from the front and the back.

Luckily, as soon as you ended the stream, your vibrator ceased, though it still remains inside of you.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” the man asks casually, like you haven’t just squirted in the public library’s nonfiction section.

You’re at a loss of what to say, what to do, let alone where to put your come-dripping hands as you stare wide-eyed at the gorgeous man in front of you.

Normally, you’d think it was a pick up line, but no, you have met before. Many times. 

Your mother had been Bruce Wayne's elementary school teacher. Each year, you were invited with her to the annual Wayne Gala. Even after her passing years ago, the invitation still came, now addressed to you. Throughout the years of attending, you’ve met him a couple of times, but never much past the standard ‘how are you’ and never memorable enough to even remember his name.

This is a lot more than a “how are you.”

“I don’t really know how to answer that right now,” you admit slightly breathlessly.

Surprisingly, he snorts, “I can grab some towels from the bathroom for you.”

You just nod dumbly, half planning to escape the second he turns his back, half wanting to stick around and see how this all plays out.

While he’s gone, you pull off your thong and shove it in your bag along with the vibrator you pluck out.

Moments later, he returns with what seems like the entire roll of paper towels. He hands them to you, eyes never leaving your face before moving out to roam about in the room over.

You try to hurry up, wiping yourself down and packing up your shit at record speed. You walk into the other room sheepishly, paper towels still scrunched up in your hands as you meet his quirked brow and blank face.

"Thanks," you say, hoping he won't bring it up.

Luckily, he doesn’t.

“So,” he draws out the word. You’re honestly surprised he hasn’t left at this point. “You like nonfiction?” 

You burst out laughing, something he appreciates with a small smirk as he turns over a title in his calloused hands. “I just like that it’s private up here,” you tell him your actual favorite genre before asking what’s been on your mind. “You’re Dick, right?” Out of all the Wayne ward’s names, this is the only one that springs to mind.

He huffs, putting the book back on the shelf, “Fuck no.”

“Sorry,” you hesitate. Should you just leave him alone and flee with whatever little dignity you have remaining? 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he sounds apologetic. “It’s Jason.”

That name does sound familiar.

“Jason,” you repeat out loud without meaning to, something he notes with a small smile.

“That’s the one,” he drawls with a deep, gravelly voice. Most normal people would respond with their own name, however you just sit there in your squirt covered dress as he flits into the nonfiction room you’d just been in. Oddly enough, he asks, “Can’t really recall your name either, if I'm being honest, kid.”

“‘M not a kid,” you mumble in embarrassment, holding your laptop case against your wet spot. You’re 25, for fuck’s sake. 

“Probably a good thing considering what I just saw,” he jokes lightly, though his attention appears to be on the books in front of him. You can tell his gaze is slightly unfocused, though.

You tell him your name as you make to leave. “Maybe I’ll catch you around,” you say.

His emerald eyes finally lock onto yours again. “Maybe you will.”

➸💋➸

At the open house the next day, all the dads stare at you, while the moms resort to glaring at you.

It’s what you’re used to.

You’re hot as fuck, it’s why you do porn. It’s why men like Mr. Harper think you have a familiar face.

Speaking of, the man’s been well-behaved for the most part. Aside from his lingering verdant gaze, he remains in the back of the room with crossed arms as he leans back in Lian’s chair. 

The button-up you’re wearing shows off your lofty cleavage and tucks nicely into your skintight pencil skirt. To someone like Roy, you assume you look like a walking wet dream. Your hair’s up in a bun and your signature glasses as your red heels clack along the laminate floors.

You go over your plans for the remaining half of the year as well as the project and letter the kids had created for the open house. It’s an hour-long event with time left for questions after, meaning you’re fucking drained by the time you’re ushering the last of the parents out the door. Surprisingly, Mr. Harper doesn’t linger, nor does he actually say anything to you. It’s entirely odd, but you’re not complaining.

You need a fucking drink.

You didn’t plan to go to a club. It’s totally not your scene. Somehow, tonight, it feels right. 

It’s a seedy place, but the drinks are strong and cheap and it’s exactly what you need after a long day like this one. You’re still in your teaching attire as you settle into the practically empty bar. Monday nights and clubs don’t exactly mesh well, meaning it’s close to dead, but that’s fine with you. You’re just here for a few drinks, then maybe treating yourself to some Chinese food.

You let your hair down, shaking it out as the lanky bartender comes over to take your order.

There’s a man across the bar from you. His face is obstructed by a red hoodie as he asks the bartender for something. If you tilt your head just right, you're able to get a better look at the white tuft of hair hanging prominently in front of his eyes. It kind of reminds you of Jason…

It’s as if he feels your curious gaze on him because his sharp one flickers your way. 

Dark green eyes meet your wide ones.

It is Jason.

Do you make the first move, or does-

Before you can finish your mental question, he raises a questioning brow your way as if asking for an invitation to come closer. You grant it, moving your purse over so he can sit.

“Hey,” you say as his hulking form sits down beside you.

“Not feeling nonfiction tonight?” He gestures down to the book you’d been reading before he approached.

"I-" You blush, hating how easily he has a hold over you.

Though you’d only planned to stay for a drink, you order another just to keep the conversation going. The two of you talk about everything and anything. The one topic the two of you keep coming back to is books and he doesn’t exactly let you off the hook for the library.

“Don’t think I’ll ever view that section the same way again,” he admits, taking a coy sip of his whiskey.

“I really am sorry,” you apologize genuinely. “I didn’t know anyone even used that section and I-" you start to ramble, but he gently cuts you off.

“Trust me, I didn’t mind.” You watch as he downs the last of his drink and signs his tab. “You want to get out of here?” he asks suddenly.

You blush even harder. The liquor settling into your system warmly surely doesn’t help any, nor the heat behind his half-lidded eyes.

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” you breathe, biting lightly at your lower lip. 

“You do like public places, don’t you?”

You snort, covering your face in embarrassment, but he won’t allow it. He removes your hands from gentle, placing gentle kisses to each.

“I do,” you agree with a light smile.

“There’s an alley out that door,” he offers in a gravelly voice.

It’s all he has to say to get you up and out of your seat, following behind his muscular form.

His thumb draws light circles against your hand as he holds open the door for you to leave through first. “Shit,” he says suddenly. “You left your purse.”

You look behind you and notice that, yes, your dumbass left it on the seat next to you. Without another word, he leaves you to grab it.

You still have your phone on you and use the camera app to check over your makeup and hair as you wait in the alley for him. You hear a random noise from the rooftops but think little of it as the hooded man sneaks up behind you. His large hands caress you from behind as he pulls you backward against his strong chest.

“Can I touch you?” he asks darkly.

Your breath sputters, wanting nothing more, “Jason.”

His hands slip even lower on your torso, applying gentle pressure as he reaches your lower stomach. “What kind of panties are you wearing?” You can’t help but snort. He must’ve liked the red thong because you feel his dick stir to life when you mention much of the same. “Shit,” he groans when he shifts up your dress.

He runs his fingers along the fold of where your thighs meet your pussy as if to check if you’re telling him the truth.

You hear more clattering from above but can hardly focus on it when Jason turns you around to face him. It happens so fast that your mind’s still reeling from the action as he backs you against the brick wall of the club to finally slip a finger inside your thong.

“Fuck!” you exclaim. You can’t help but buck against his calloused index finger as his body molds against yours.

His lips capture yours in an instant with an intensity that leaves you crying out with want. It’s muffled against his lips as he holds your hands above your head with only one hand while the other focuses on working through your already slick folds. He refuses to touch your clit, which leaves you mewling and struggling against his hold.

It feels so fucking good.

All of a sudden, there’s a loud thump that forces Jason to startle slightly away from your gasping form.

“Ma’am,” out of nowhere, a gruff voice startles the two of you, “are you alright?”

Before you can respond, words are already out of Jason’s mouth. “Arsenal?” Jason asks, sounding entirely confused. 

Your head untucks from Jason’s sweaty neck to see a random-ass dude in a costume staring at the two of you. Your mouth is wide as you take in the new form in front of you. Your eyes trickle lower on his red uniform to where it protrudes out around his crotch.

Apparently, Jason’s seen enough. His hand shifts slightly as he moves and you can’t stop the light breath it draws from you. 

The costumed man visibly takes in the man’s face as if it’s familiar.

“I thought she was in trouble,” he trails off as he realizes that everything going on here is completely consensual.

They stare each other down for a few more seconds before Jason lulls you back in.

Instead of stopping, Jason’s fingers soon begin again and you resort to hiding your face against his neck as you allow it. He notices the man’s continued presence and smirks down at you. “Are you good with this?” he asks.

You nod, moaning loudly when he rewards you with another curl of his thick finger. You definitely aren’t used to doing this shit for free, let alone for a live audience, so you feel a bit shy. The shyness only lasts for so long before you suddenly grow bolder, throwing your head back erotically as Jason brushes against your g-spot.

Jason nips at your neck, leaving bites and bruises in his wake, but your half-lidded eyes are focused on the masked man in front of you. He’s yet to move, let alone breathe, it seems.

You can't deny that he’s ripped, nor that his muscular arms are doing things to you.

He’s hot.

“I don’t care if you touch yourself.” The words are out of your mouth before you even realize it. 

It’s as if the floodgates have opened as the vigilante begins palming himself through his suit. His movements are erratic and sloppy, as if he’s never touched himself before, though you suppose he’s never run into a camgirl in an alley before, not that he even knows.

You don’t even have to try to put on a show, Jason’s really that fucking good. Every moan, every writhe of your body and every shaky word you beg are all real reactions to his skillful hand. 

Jason’s hand picks up speed as you draw nearer. His lips catch deliciously against your own as he coaxes your tongue lewdly with his. “There we go,” he encourages you, leaving you to whimper, then cry out as his fingers squelch in and out of your slick cunt. “Just like that,” he says. With Jason and the other man’s eyes attached to your pathetic form, you come, nearly crumbling to the ground as you do. Luckily, Jason’s strong arms catch you with a small laugh, “You alright?”

It’s your turn to laugh, “Fucking amazing.” You bite at the corner of your bottom lip, eyeing the obvious strain in his jeans. “Would you want me to-?”

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes out, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You tantalizingly pull your hair up, something you did in your infamous scene.

Both men watch with slackened jaws as you squat down and unzip his jeans. His clothed cock tents out from the opening of the zipper and you waste no time in sucking at the head through his boxers. Once the fabric is thoroughly soaked through, you pull him out to fully admire his member.

You bite playfully at your lip, staring Jason in the eyes as you spit on his bobbing cock before slowly taking his length down your throat. When you reach the hilt, you moan, feeling the vibrations of it settle across his skin, “Mm.”

“Shit,” he groans and his arms shoot out on the brick wall behind you as if to control himself from fucking into your mouth. “Done this before, babe?” he teases you, though his eyes are completely dark with lust. 

“A time or two,” you jest back with an impish smile. Your glasses have completely ridden down to the tip of your nose at this point, something he notices and pushes back up with his thumb. 

The action causes a loud groan from the vigilante beside Jason, “Fuck, man.” He’s eagerly fisting his cock at this point, eyes never once leaving you.

“Want to taste her come?” Jason offers him

The moan the other man produces sounds pained, desperate, as he latches onto Jason’s calloused fingers coated with your slick.

You suck more eagerly, watching the whole interaction with fascination. You’ve never done something like this before, but you don’t think you’d mind doing it again.

“You taste so good,” the other man mumbles. You have no choice but to blush around Jason’s thick length, deepthroating him until tears spill from your eyes. “So good,” he mumbles again, completely lost in you.

You swap between teasing and deepthroating until you can tell he can’t take it any longer and attempt to finish him off with one of your signature moves.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-" Jason caresses the back of your head as he empties out into your mouth. He pulls out and splatters the remnants of his come across your lashes. 

You blink heavily, turning to the other man as an invitation. “Not sucking your dick, but you can come on my tits,” you say to him.

“Fair enough,” he mumbles, completely distracted as you pull your tits out of your bra.

Your tongue pokes out to taste Jason’s come on your face while your hands squeeze at your tits like you had on stream. Poor dude doesn’t last another 20 seconds before his hot come splatters across your chest with the rest of his load drizzling down into your bra like a claim.

Definitely have to wash that when you get home.

Both men help you stand, though the vigilante takes off soon after zipping his pants. Jason, however, sticks around to walk you to your car, sending you off with his phone number.

When you get home, you barely have time to reflect on what the fuck had gone down in the alley when your laptop chirps oddly. You set down your purse on your kitchen island as you traverse over to your desk. Upon opening it, you find your channel pulled up and see inmyarsenal has left you a $200 tip. 

You shake your head quizzically, eyebrows furrowing as you search to see if it’s been a mistake, considering you haven’t streamed since the library. You go to refund it to him only to see the note he’s left with it:

inmyarsenal: have to stop coming by your streams. tAke this as compensation- no refunds :)

A/N: I've been waiiiiting to finishing this fic since last april!!! not super edited if i'm being honest

if you'd like to send me nice things in my ask box, it would make my day :,)

[next] || ao3 || pinned || my ko-fi / tip jar

[nimmie-nugget]

~Hantengu Clones x Disgust Clone Reader~

Reminder: drink water and eat a full meal! Turn on dark mode if it’s currently night where you live~ wouldn’t want ya eyes to hurt right?~ —go to your profile and press the icon that’s on the VERY right, then click “General Settings” and scroll down a bit till you see “Color Palette” and there should be a few options for ya there!—

Warnings: ooc, not proofread, your not gonna like Karaku’s part, you might shit your pants

Note: I’ve had this in my mind for quite a long time!!! Google better be right for the kanji’s I have next to the clone’s names or Istg- This doesn’t mean I won’t stop doing Tokito twins content tho! I’ve been posting some other things instead of Tokito content so i just wanted to reassure~ don’t worry Tokito enthusiastic’s! Your emotion is disgust and your color is a mix of Yellow and Green~ Platonic ofc or else self love has a new meaning💀 Enjoy <3

Masterlist+Introduction

Masterlist

Sekido 怒

You CANNOT come to me and tell me this is not toxic. 💀🖕

Both of you argue the most out of the clones

There was a time your argument got WAY out of hand ‘n both of you started using your BDA like crazy!

Your always pointing out his lil flaws

Tho Sekido’s clothes are more tolerable.

You tease him but not as much as Karaku

Long story short both of you want each other to die 😣

“Why not you fix your hair before you start talking?”

“WE HAVE THE SAME HAIRSTYLE YOU BRAT!”

These two lines kinda giving sibling energy- 👆

Karaku 愉

Your grossed out by the fact he doesn’t wear proper clothing.

Just one touch and you go

“AHHHH!!! THIS IS UTTERLY DISGUSTING!”

Teases you A LOT. You and Sekido most likely teamed up once just to get him to shut up 😬

I think he just considers you a whore at this point-

Considering you always look at his abs ‘n shit but your just trynna tell him to wear some clothes in the most judging way possible 😭

How did he even miss that gaze full of disgust!? HECK it’s your emotion-

“I know you like this Y/n~” he says as he licks his hand. Bro’s a cat fr💀

You gave him the most disgusted look ever that day.

Urogi 幸

He’s too much for you to handle-

Your losing your sanity yeah tots like you didn’t lose it years ago😃

Let’s just say your BDA is to be able to mind control-

The moment he uses his BDA you instantly use your BDA on him if your near.

Tho despite you literally being disgusted of him in every single way, you still hold some respect for him.

“A,IS)EJWAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” *Activated BDA*

You groan as you activate your BDA “I don’t have time for this! And keep ya mouth shut would ya?! Your voice is disgusting.”

Aizetsu 愁

You must admit he is quite tolerable then the other clones but that’s what makes it more disgusting.

You two have a pretty decent relationship.

Tho his outfit…it’s disgusting.

You don’t really hold…much disgust towards him???

Tho it’s just probably because he doesn’t annoy you much as the other clones.

OH YOU WERE VERY WRONG 😨

Your the only clone who doesn’t tease him or act serious.

That’s the explanation to him latching to your arm 24/7 👆💀

“UGHHH!!! GET OFF ME! YOUR FUCKING HEAVY!” You yelled.

“…Y/n don’t yell…that makes me sad…” he said clutching onto his staff

“This disgusts me. You disgust me.”

Yep, ya had to use your BDA to get him off.

But why ya gotta be so mean!!? >:(

But hey! Aizetsu’s confirmed to be a cat 😼

Zohakuten 憎

Let’s just say ALL of the clones are in a black void when Hantengu is in control 😶

Never though I’d say this but this relationship is WAY more toxic then yours with Sekido 😰

Your always commenting on how disgusting he is.

Roast him like a Roblox kid 😎

Tho you won’t be getting away just easily.

Considering he’s the STRONGEST of the clones you’ll def be beat to pieces 😭

“Ngh!…is that all you got? Your unreliable dragons can’t do shit to me! Utterly disgusting.” You say with a grin.

Hell you faced so many tortures that day- tho what scared ya the most was the fact that your regeneration slowed down 😰

Like- HOW!?!?

You swore to never go overboard with HIM ever again 🫡

[kamotecue]

meet by chance ・❥・ g. reiten

pairing: guro reiten x reader

summary: you never expected to run into guro, well knowing the chances of meeting you did, however off the pitch, you didn’t think it would be this quick.

part two of here

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

you finished training a while ago, now here you are in the locker room with your damp hair. you were just wearing a sports bra, and a black high waist trousers.

“you haven’t finished getting changed, mate.” katie said, throwing you the black turtle neck you had put on your kit bag.

“thanks, cap.” you said, throwing on the turtle neck ignoring the way you had gotten a notification from instagram.

“will you join us for lunch?” caitlin asked, taking a glance at you, the young irish defender. katie hummed, giving you a nod agreeing with the aussie.

“sure, why not—it’s not like i have anything better to do.” you said, quickly wearing the black button up coat as it was a bit cold

“lets go, then.” caitlin said, grabbing her kit bag. you grabbed yours as well, as you all headed to the car, a small conversation was engaged.

“still won’t tell me who gave you those?” katie said, as you groaned at her behavior. caitlin just laughed at your misery.

“i won’t, no matter how many times you ask.” you said, opening the trunk placing your kit bag first. the other two gently placed theirs, as you closed the door when they were done.

“oh, come on l/n. how bad can it be, it’s not like it’s a chelsea player.” katie said, as you ignored her. oh, how spot on your captain was.

you entered the driver’s seat, igniting the car as katie took the back seat. caitlin had the aux cord, plugging her phone in as she played strawberry kisses by nikki webster. what can you say, it’s a very good song.

“i’ve been missing your strawberry kisses.” caitlin sang, as you focused on the road. you already had the coordinates, as you simply followed what google map had led you to.

“cuz nothing’s as sweet.” katie continued, as you tapped your fingers against the driving wheel.

the drive to the cafe wasn’t that far, you were the last one to exit out of the car. the other two were the first ones to go inside, claiming a table.

you entered the building, not noticing a certain norwegian take a glance at you. why hadn’t she noticed that you were a footballer as well—not to mention an arsenal player as well.

you took the seat in front of caitlin, katie who was beside her handed you the menu.

“i’ll have a grilled panini.” you told them, returning the menu before taking out your phone. you had accidentally clicked on a notification, it lead to an instagram notification.

greiten has followed you.

“holy shit-“ you said, katie furrowing her eyebrows as her conversation with caitlin had came to a stop. the aussie looked at you confused but held concern.

“i said that out loud, didn’t i?” you asked, as katie chuckled. caitlin just gave you a nod, as you winced.

“i’ll just use the restroom.” you stood up heading to the restroom, not noticing a certain person following you. someone you hoped to avoid, but it was practically inevitable.

“so, y/n.” you paused before turning around to see guro, you took note of the clothes she was wearing. it was yours, she gave you a soft look as you avoided her gaze looking at the wall.

“guro.” you simply said, looking at your watch not noticing how she approached you. her hands were holding your hips, pulling you closer to her as you used your hands to steady yourself.

“you forgot to mention that you weren’t just an arsenal supporter.” the thick norweigan accent was noticeable, as you simply flushed at the close proximity.

“well, it didn’t really come up.” you hummed, knowing how she only thought of you as an arsenal supporter but never a fan.

“touché, what do we do now?” she asked, her eyes glanced at your lips.

“what do you want?” you asked, making sure you weren’t overstepping her boundaries.

“i’d like to take you out on a date.” your eyes widened, as she gave you a lopsided grin. you chuckled at her words, before giving her a nod.

“you know y/n, you’re so cute when you’re all flustered.” you shoved her as she laughed at your reaction. you gave her a soft look, as she gazed at your lips again.

“well, now that i’ve seen you. i have to go or else i’ll be late for my training.” you nodded, but she still had her eyes on you.

“no, goodbye kiss?” you joked, as she gave you a small smirk.

she tugged at your hands, guiding you closer to her as she pressed her forehead against yours.

“should i?” she hummed in amusement, as she watched you blushed under her attention.

“i don’t know, reiten. usually this is the part where you’re supposed to kiss me.” you said, giving her a look as she gave you a tender, yet sweet kiss on the lips.

you wrapped your arms around her neck, as she held your waist. it was like you felt your blood rushing through your veins.

guro pulled away as she looked back at you, you were breathless.

“i’ll see you later, y/n.” guro gave you a gummy smile, to which you softly nodded to.

let’s just say, the date went well. you both proceeded to go on dates, and kept it a secret from your teammates.

the day she asked you to be her girlfriend, she made you paper flowers, as well as a handwritten letter. you always wanted to experience the cliche parts in love, so she wrote on a sticky note, will you be my girlfriend?

there was two boxes below, one with yes and one with a no. you obviously checked the one that said yes, and that marked you both official a couple.

pt 3 coming soon

[its-time-to-write]

perhaps some angst?? reader and jamie break up but fluff at the end because he wins her back 🥹

I’m sorry this took me so long 😭 Not always the best at writing angst. Thanks for requesting!

can’t really say i’m enjoying it now

“What the fuck, Jamie,” you say. “What the actual fuck.”

You’re in Richmond’s boot room after training. You’d been upstairs with Rebecca which is a bit of why you’re even in this mess. 

After all, she’s the one who told you he’d changed.

She’s the one who told him to just go for it.

She’s the one who showed you the interview clip.

You might be on the offensive, but Jamie’s on the defensive.

“I don’t get why you’re so fuckin upset, babe,” he shrugs, attempting nonchalance. His eyes, however, are just as fiery as yours. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Not that big-not that big a deal? Then what is a big deal, Jamie? And don’t ‘babe’ me, you are in absolutely no place to pull that shit after that shit you pulled.”

In another circumstance, that turn of phrase would have made Jamie laugh. Would have made him comment on your command of the English language.

Would have made him kiss you.

Now however, he just throws his hands in the air and says, “It was just an interview. Those are things you say in an interview. ‘Case you forgot, I’m a fucking famous footballer.”

“How can I forget?” you shoot back, arms crossed, “it’s all you ever fucking talk about.”

“At least I’m not a self-absorbed grad student who thinks she’s all that because she ‘makes her own money,’ and ‘has a real job.’” Here Jamie mocks your voice, high pitched and whiny.

All you can see is red. “Damnit Jamie, that is a far cry from telling the entire world about how grateful I am that you decided to date me, and then bragging about how fucking out-of-my-league you are. I’m not some goddamn charity case! And then you had the audacity to make jokes about our private life on live television. Live television, Jamie. Do you know how many people saw that? And are going to see that? It’s not just a joke about yourself anymore. It involves me too.” 

Jamie looks at you, eyes narrowed. He knows he should back down, but he won’t. It’s not in his nature to surrender a fight. “It’s not like anyone’s going to fuckin care, anyway. You’re not even famous, so who gives a shit?”

That catches you off guard. You weren’t famous, that was true, but there were a few more results in a google search of your name these days. Because of Jamie. Some were kind, some were not. 

You knew you had been prickly about it, because you wanted people to know you for you, not as some footballer’s girlfriend. You wanted to be known for your graduate research, for helping people, for something that mattered. 

You had been lashing out as a result, flexing your presumed intelligence in a less-than-graceful manner.

You had seen Jamie bottle up every retort, but now it was all coming out.

He was wrong, but so were you. You know you should back down, but you won’t. It’s not in your nature.

You whisper, “I give a shit, Jamie Tartt. I do. It’s my name but it doesn’t even belong to me anymore. It’s always tied to yours and I can’t get it back.”

You glare at each other in silent anger. The air feels so thick that you could reach out and put a piece in your pocket. There are hot, angry tears in your eyes, and Jamie’s face is red, eyebrows knit together. Your arms are in fists at your sides, and Jamie’s are tightly crossed. Each of you sending the message, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

Finally Jamie speaks up. “You want your fucking name back?” he asks, far too calmly. “You can have it. We’re done.”

For a moment, all you can hear is roaring in your ears. Then- “Fuck you. Fine. You think I’m a self-righteous bitch? At least I know who I am, and I’m working on it instead of pretending to be something I’m not. Have a nice life, Jamie,” you reply, icy voice cooling the fire in your veins. You turn sharply on your heel and walk out of the boot room. You don’t slam the door. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

Jamie kicks a bench and lets out a single, “Fuck!”

—

That was three months ago. You booked the first flight you could find back to your parents’ house before you even told them you were coming home for a visit. They were overjoyed to have you, despite the circumstances of your return. 

You managed to keep it together right until the moment you saw your dad’s face at baggage claim, and then you felt everything fall apart. He hugged you as though it was the only thing keeping you from shattering into a million pieces, and you just sobbed.

You spend a month on their couch, slogging through schoolwork and binge-watching tv. Your mom walks with you every morning, claiming she needs someone to keep her from cutting corners. In reality, the fresh air is good for you. She lets you walk in silence, and squeezes your hand the exact moment before a tear falls from your eye.

“He’s just a young man,” she says, “They do dumb things. He’ll learn. I’m sorry he had to learn through you, but you won’t feel this way forever.” 

You tell her once this feels like taking his side. She laughs and says, “Having grace for someone is not the same as taking their side. And anyway, which one of you have I let live in my house for the past three weeks?”

Your dad is less forgiving. You hear your mom talking him out of buying a plane ticket to London. “Violence is not the answer for this,” she says.

You can’t hear your dad’s reply, but it’s something along the lines of “Just wanted to talk to him.”

Your mom laughs. Your dad is downright frightening when he wants to be, violence or no. You catch a snip of “Poor boy, his father- can’t be expected- not excusing-” before you put in some earbuds and slip off to sleep.

Your mom is on your side. She just has the unnerving tendency to understand both sides of an argument. You’re grateful that she doesn’t make any snide comments about Jamie like your sister does, because there’s a part of you that just hurts because that part still loves him, and it feels like slander on his name is slander on yours. 

You try not to note that your name is still inextricably intertwined with his.

— 

Back in Richmond, Jamie is throwing himself fully into football. He doesn’t talk or joke so much anymore, just silently goes through training. He plays better, if anything. He kicks the ball with such precision during matches that the game is won if he’s even remotely near the goal. He is vicious, unforgiving, vengeful toward himself. The team leaves him alone, except Roy and Ted.

Roy still takes him for training every morning and Ted comes over to Jamie’s house with lunch every weekend.

Jamie is still silent.

—

You spend the next two months in Richmond, trying to make new memories in the places that only remind you of Jamie. It’s almost impossible, because all you can think about is his smile, and how his sharp canines glinted in the light. How his hands would catch your waist and thumbs would draw circles on your hipbones. How he could bring you to tears of laughter in a single sentence or well-timed look.

You’re almost at a point of forgiveness when you see a tabloid. You don’t even register the picture because all you can focus on is the bolded name in the headline. It’s Jamie’s name.

You’re sure it’s about some girl he’s with, because what else would be in a tabloid? You roll your eyes and scoff. Typical. Leave it to him to bounce back. You suppose long-term relationships mean nothing to him.

After that, you stay in your flat. You only leave during times you know are impossible to bump into him. 

Things start to get better. If Jamie’s moved on, so can you. You begin going on runs again. You stop by Mae’s now and again to chat with the regulars. She slips you free chips with a wink and a pat on the hand.

You still think about Jamie. He’s on your mind and you wonder if you’re on his. You remember the tabloid and shake your head.

You’re one semester away from graduating, and your research has started to mean something. You google your name once and see your name in a singular footnote in a research paper you helped write. It’s the first result. You smile. 

—

You are so close to having your first Jamie-free day. He hasn’t been the first thing on your mind for two days. You don’t have that feeling of falling, or of guilt. It is a beautiful Thursday morning, so you get up, put on your jogging clothes, then head out the door for a run. It’s a little cloudy but you swear that’s the best weather to exercise in. Less sweaty. You are three months out from your breakup and you are beginning to feel joy again. You turn a corner, thinking about a nice coffee, when you ram straight into something warm and solid. You lose your balance, but strong arms reach out to catch you.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” you cry. “I should have looked where I was-”

Words escape you as you look up into the blue eyes of your rescuer. 

“Hi,” he breathes. “I’ve missed you.”

You’re trapped in his gaze for a minute before-

“Ow!”

You’ve stomped on Jamie’s foot. 

“What was that for?” he asks indignantly. 

“Oh I don’t know,” you reply, “maybe for being a complete asshole? It also could be for snogging whatever model you were with in that tabloid? Real stellar move, showing that much remorse. I’m glad it didn’t take long to get over me. Guess the phrase ‘long-term relationship’ means something different to footballers than it does to us little people.”

Jamie opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again. 

“Look, you’re right, I’m a fuckin’ arsehole, but what are you talking about? What model?”

You’re a little thrown off by his admission to being an asshole. “What do you mean, ‘what am I talking about?’ I saw your name show up in some headline and you’re only ever in there for some girl, and I get it, it’s fine that you’ve moved on, it just feels really fucking quick.”

Jamie has the audacity to chuckle. “It weren’t about some model. It was about you.”

You go cold. This can’t be happening again. Jamie Tartt, spilling his guts in some sleazy interview, painting you in the worst light.

He sees the look of absolute horror on your face so he hurries on, “Look. You were right. I shouldn’t’ve said what I did. But I did, and I can’t take it back. So I’m doing me best to make it right. It were about a tv interview where they asked about you, and I said we’d broken up. Told them I was a complete prick about everything and I let you slip through my fingers.” For the first time, you take a good look at Jamie’s face. He looks truly awful. Hair floppy (and not in a good way), bloodshot eyes, dark circles. 

He continues, “I know I shouldn’t have been a prick about being famous. It’s just, I get in me fuckin’ head about shit like this. Did the same thing with Keeley. Got scared of something real and knew I’d fuck it up eventually, so I thought I might as well get it over with. And anyway, you’re way out of my league. Figured I might as well let you go before you figured it out. I’ve been- I’ve been getting better. Less dick-like. You can ask anyone, Roy, Coach, whoever. I’m really trying, here. And I know I fucked things between us, and you don’t have to forgive me, but I’m just trying to be better for me and whoever fucking has to put up with me next.” 

You have no words. All you can do is stare at him. You hear your mom’s voice saying, “He’s just a young man. He’ll figure himself out.”

You hear Keeley saying, “he’s grown so much, really, he almost isn’t even the same person anymore.”

You hear Rebecca, as you sat in her office right before Jamie asked you out, telling you, “He’s a shockingly fast learner. Only has to be told something once, and it’s in his head forever. Give him a chance.”

You open your mouth and what comes out is: “I’m sorry too.”

Jamie looks just as shocked that you said that as you are, but you keep going. “My mom talked to me a lot about- about deciding what you can forgive. And I guess, I know I wasn’t blameless. I pushed you away on purpose, and I was aware of every single word that I said that hurt you. She also talked about ‘age-appropriate mistakes.’ She said both you and I made them, and that doesn’t mean I should take you back but that I should at least consider forgiveness. It’s easy to forget that we’re really young, you know? We both have a lot of responsibility, and I forget that it’s ok if we make mistakes. And you being you, your mistakes are more public. I- I needed to figure out if I could deal with it or not. I’m still not sure if I can. I don’t want my life to be on display.”

Jamie nods, expression intent. You take a breath and then continue. “But I guess that I need to figure out which I want more. Privacy, or you. I mean, if that’s even something you want.”

Jamie’s eyes have never left your face. He says, “Always knew I liked your mum,” and then he’s pushing a strand of hair our of your eyes, hesitantly, giving you time to pull away.  

You don’t.

You let him run his fingers through your hair.

You let him kiss you, softly.

You let him back into your life.

I missed you, he had said.

You pull back, smiling. “By the way, I missed you too.”

[delulu4dean]

No Doctors (Sam and Dean Winchester x sibling!reader)

Warnings: needles I guess

Parings: sam Winchester X sibling!reader, Dean Winchester x sibling!reader

Prompt: you’re a hunter scared of needles idk I went to urgent care the other day and I hate needles.

Word Count: 1,044

Sam, Dean, and you, their younger, nineteen year old half sibling have seen a lot, obviously. Hunters? You see vampires, werewolves, ghosts. But as a Winchester you see so much more. The three of you have saved the world quite a few times. It is safe to say not much phases the Winchesters.

But you, Y/N Winchester has one big fear, needles. When Sam injected Demon Dean with human blood, you could not watch. It wasn’t because of your big brother’s yells of pain, but because you cannot even look at a needle. So when Sam and Dean told you that you HAD to see a doctor, you put it off until it was too late. Now your legs were covered in red spots. The spots were not inflamed or itching. They looked like bleeding under the skin, which means its less like a rash. Google did not help ease Sam and Dean’s worries about you.

“Y/N damn it, we have to rule out anything serious,” Dean told you.

“I am fine,” you insisted.

“Google says you have one week to live,” your older brother furrowed his eyebrows, showing you his google search on his smart phone.

“Google is not a doctor,” you rolled your eyes.

“That is why we have to take you to a doctor. Right Sam?”

Sam nods in agreement.

“Look, if Cas was here, he could figure it out, but he isn’t. We are going to urgent care,” Dean demanded. “Now get your ass to my car.”

You looked over to Sam and back to Dean, fear in your eyes. You knew what this meant, bloodwork. You could not do bloodwork. Just seeing a needle makes you sick to your stomach. The last time you had bloodwork done, you threw up. When you had to get your Covid vaccines, you took your brothers with you. It worked because they ended up getting theirs as well, but when it came to your turn, your brothers had to distract you so you didnt see the needle. You held Dean’s hands and almost broke his fingers as the needle went into your flesh.

“Dean, doctors are scary. All they do is poke at you with needles,” you frowned at your older brother.

“Sam and I will both be there by your side,” Dean insisted.

And so here you are now. The walking to the lab with your brothers at your side. You look for all possible exists to run out of here, but you know its no use. Dean would drag you back if he has to. The lab nurse sits you down in the chair and looks for a good vein. Shit. It’s going to happen. Your eyes follow her hands as she pulls out all the tubes that will be soon filled with your blood. The things is you’re not grossed out by the idea of seeing your own blood, its kind of cool actually. But knowing how it gets in there is too much.

You see her take out the needle and your instincts kick in. You jump out of your seat before your brothers push you back. Dean holds you down on the chair and you look at him with tears in your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that kid,” Dean sighs, a guilty expression coming across his face. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am fine! And when we find out that nothing is wrong you’re going to be sorry,” you spit.

Sam holds the hand of the arm that the nurse will draw blood from, not just to keep it steady, but to calm you down.

“You are a fighter, you are strong, you got this,” Sam tells you. “Just don’t look, and then you won’t feel it, okay?” You nod at Sam. “Attagirl. Now don’t look at me, or else you’ll see the needle too. Look at Dean.”

“Yeah, look at me,” Dean cuts in. You look up at your eldest brother. “Good job.”

“I’m not a child,” you remind Dean.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a kid compared to Sam and I,” Dean chuckles.

“Well yeah, Sam is old and you’re ancient,” you tease.

“Ancient?” Dean fakes an offended expression.

“Yeah. So ancient that when the Egyptians built the pyramids, they looked at you and said ‘Wow that man is ancient.’”

Sam laughs but plays it off as a cough when Dean shoots a look at him. You feel a cotton ball on your arm as the nurse wraps the bandage on your arm.

“All done,” she smiles. “You can go to the waiting room and as soon as we get your results, you’ll be notified.”

You’re surprised and relieved to find out its done and over with. And you didn’t feel a thing.

“You did it kid,” Dean smiles at you.

“We are proud of you,” Sam ruffles your hair.

“I’m almost twenty don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” you get up and push past your brothers.

They follow you into the waiting room and sit by your side. Sam wraps an arm around you while you’re all pouty and embarrassed.

“We aren’t babying you or anything,” Sam sighs. “You have a genuine fear, and you faced it. We know you’re an adult. You are capable of doing a lot, you are a badass hunter. A Winchester.”

You nod, not so confidently. You and your brothers watch the TV in the waiting room where some old cowboy movie is playing. Dean is loving it, but you just want to get your results and go back home. After twenty minutes, a doctor comes out with a clipboard.

“You are fine, your blood came back clean. And over the counter rash cream should be able to help. You are free to go home,” she tells you.

Dean scoffs, and Sam looks confused. To be fair, you don’t understand either, you know its not a rash, it doesn’t look like a rash. But it can’t be what Dean looked up either if the bloodwork came back clean so its clearly nothing serious. As the doctor walks away, you glare at your older brothers.

“See, I knew bloodwork was a waste of time.”

Dean shrugs as Sam says, “Better safe than sorry.”

[wambsgansshoelaces]

omg a headcanon like the one you did for tom but for roman snd stewy? the period one i mean !! also gender neutral pls :>

thank you for requesting anon, i love u!!! enjoy xx

really craving pizza bianca rn

on your period (roman + stewy)

Roman

ᝰ has no idea what he’s doing

ᝰ he calls your period a full stop because ‘they’re synonyms lol’ (as his text said)

ᝰ just wants you happy

ᝰ so whenever you’re on your period he just

ᝰ does things for you??

ᝰ makes you breakfast in bed, attempts to pack you a lunch, botches dinner

ᝰ he’s trying at least

ᝰ he usually just settles for buying you whatever you’re craving and letting you lay your head in his lap

ᝰ he strokes your hair, your face, your neck, your back

ᝰ he makes sure you’re feeling good

ᝰ lots of chocolate all the time

ᝰ just so that he can eat it with you

ᝰ if you ever ruin any pants or clothing or even furniture, he replaces it without you knowing

ᝰ “didn’t i throw this pair of pants out last week?” you ask him one time

ᝰ “i got you a new one, don’t worry about it.”

ᝰ if you suffer with cramps or any sort of chronic illness regarding your reproductive health, he’s always quietly concerned

ᝰ “you sure it doesn’t hurt? you should tell me if it hurts.”

ᝰ keeps track of how long in between painkillers your pain returns

ᝰ makes you try a bunch of homemade remedies he googled

ᝰ the first time you go on your period while you’re living together, he goes out and buys you a heating pad, a weighted blanket, and a heated blanking thing all at once

ᝰ if you use pads or tampons, he gets really confused when out trying to buy some for you

ᝰ but he’s too embarrassed to ask

ᝰ so when you’re taking a nap he scuttles into the bathroom and takes a picture that he keeps on his phone

ᝰ and then gets the exact ones when he notices you’re running out or you ask him

ᝰ this man bullies the doctors that don’t listen to you

ᝰ like he is well known with the endocrinologists and gynecologists in the are as a nusiance

ᝰ and lowkey an asshole

ᝰ but it’s all ‘in your honor’ as he says

ᝰ “if they say they’re cramping, they’re cramping. aren’t you supposed to be helpful? how the fuck do you have a medical license?”

ᝰ has gotten kicked out of the appointment many a time

ᝰ but he always waits patiently for you outside

ᝰ and calls corporate like the diva he is

ᝰ has the means to get you the best care

ᝰ and he does get you it

ᝰ “you literally deserve so much more than i can give you. you’re my everything, remember?”

ᝰ “i love you, ro.”

ᝰ “fuck off with that sappy shit…. i love you more.”

Stewy

ᝰ knows enough about periods to be able to help you

ᝰ like he’s knowledgeable enough to cook things he knows your body is in need of during your period of ovulation

ᝰ urges you to work out specifically on your period

ᝰ “it helps clear your head,” he says

ᝰ but if you’re not up to it, he won’t make you

ᝰ maybe just a small walk around outside and he’ll let you just nap

ᝰ but if you even don’t even want to walk, he thinks you’re dying

ᝰ and showers you in affection

ᝰ which he does anyway even if he thinks you’re fine??

ᝰ he’s just dramatic

ᝰ he’s an awfully good cook

ᝰ he loves cooking

ᝰ especially for you

ᝰ he specifically makes you pho for dinner every first day of your period

ᝰ “it clears your sinuses, babe,” he says every single time

ᝰ it does, really

ᝰ he’s really big about the two of you sitting down at the table for meals

ᝰ but if you’re unable because of your period, it’s fine with him

ᝰ he bought one of those breakfast in bed trays just for those moments

ᝰ if you struggle with bad cramps or reproductive illness, he’s with you at every single appointment

ᝰ sometimes he even sits next to you on the patient bed

ᝰ he just likes swinging his legs over the side

ᝰ he scrambles off whenever the doctor comes in

ᝰ he’s so subtly evil with bad doctors

ᝰ “oh, i understand it’s your professional opinion, but i also understand this clinic operates solely on donations? huh, and i think those guys whose names are on plaques all over the place are my buddies! you know jeff? i know jeff!”

ᝰ holds your hand through everything

ᝰ pain, ultrasounds, examinations

ᝰ you’re both walking back to the car from a normal check up and he’s swinging your hands back and forth with his

ᝰ “you know, i’ll help you with anything you ask me to.”

ᝰ “thank you, stew. you’re sweet.”

ᝰ “i love you.”

[ruby-winchester24]

Kyle Broflovski headcanons!

[sfw+nsfw] (fem reader)

loves cuddling and i mean he LOVES it

will not let you go unless you ask to go to the bathroom or to the kitchen for a drink

he taught himself how to braid hair because he knows how you hate it in your face when you’re working

band nerds together 💋

he plays Trumpet or Tuba whichever he wants to play

extremely talented in school, he is the top in his class

he thinks it’s cute when you ask for help on your homework

is taking 3 college classes just this year, will graduate college when he graduates from high school

your his #1 fan at his basketball and baseball games

his heart melts when you wear his jersey

he loves taking photos of you out of nowhere. it doesn’t matter what is happening if he thinks you look good in that lighting he is taking out his phone

he always facetimes you before bed, and sometimes ask to sleep on call

he snores but not too loud you can definitely hear it when your next to him

hates when Cartman talks too you or any guy in fact

he hates Clyde because he knows you guys were taking before you and him got together

only except is Stan

you, Kyle, Stan and Wendy go in double dates sometimes, only if they are together in the moment

doesn’t hate pda but won’t make out with you in public

he will hold your hand, kiss your four head and whisper reassuring words to you if your feeling stressed

he will walk you to your classes then sprint to his class

loves when you wear his hoodies or shirts

his shirts are like dresses on you

he is 6’4

finds it so cute when you get on your top toes too grab something or look over someone

always puts his hands on your shoulders or waist when standing behind you

is extremely protective of you

he will fight anyone that shits on your name

if a guy makes a move on you then it’s over

he will verbally abuse that guy or if he really feels bitchy he will swing

loves too show you off to everyone

“who is that girl? she is really pretty”

“excuse me that’s my girlfriend please don’t look at her”

his dad automatically loved you when he first met you

his mom took a little bit to really except you but when he did she would do anything for you

you guys celebrate Hanukkah together

Ike teaches you the Dreidel song

Shelia loves too show you the photo albums

Kyle doesn’t mind the baby photos but he will go crazy if she shows off the pictures of him in middle school

Gerald always asks if Kyle is being nice to you just in case 

Ike loves you also, he also has a crush on you but don’t tell Kyle!

Kyle has kinda picked up that Ike likes you

they will stare each other down

“dude you need to leave she doesn’t want to hang out with you!”

“shut up Kyle we all know i’m the better looking brother!”

“oh really?, hey Ike KICK THE BABY!”

he loves when you play with him or just hang out watching Terrence and Phillip

Kyle sees you as his future wife

he wants too give you the world

he calls you Mrs. Broflovski

he is your personal uber driver

absolutely LOVES taking you out on fancy dates because he loves to see you all dressed up

“aww baby you look so good!”

he finds your perfume heavenly

will always find a reason too be next too you

he was so scared when you told him you had your period for the first time

went on a google deep dive on how to take care of periods and how they really happen

was a little grossed out at first but realized you were in pain

always has a heating pack around for you

will give you all the snuggles and kisses in the world

will do anything for you if you needed it

“are you feeling any better baby?”

“not really can you rub my back?”

“of course, i love you”

“i love you too”

NSFW!!

loves the feeling of your skin on his, will ask to cuddle naked all the time

low key asked Kenny for advice

love’s praising you

“god baby your so beautiful”

“you’re such a good girl”

“you’re all mine”

was horrified of hurting you when you first had s*x

took a lot of convincing for him too smack your ass or go harder

loves the noises you make, goes crazy for you’re whimpers

will look into your eyes

he loves bondage not crazy but he likes your hands bonded

orgasm control!!!

he loves when you beg

loves when you melt into his touch

he loves to pleasure you, he finds pleasure in it for himself

love love LOVES your boobs

he will always make you cûm before he does he wants you to be satisfied

he loves to overstimulate you, he finds it so attractive when your a mumbling mess

7 1/2 inches

his body is slim but has definition, he has great biceps and quads

his ass is great also

his hands are HUGE

he surprisingly lasts a long time, 16 minutes on average

always a second round or if not then he will go down on you after

has crazy stamina

you were his first time

loves to kiss your face in missionary and pinch your nipples

AFTERCARE GOD!

will cuddle you for hours to make sure you are ok

will clean up later, only you matter in the moment

will get you water and tell you how amazing you were

will rub your back and kiss you so so much

he likes to say making love instead of s*x because he sees it as more then that. it’s so important too him

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 6

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulatin, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You realise you don’t know where you’re going. That you don’t have anywhere to go. You pull into an empty lot and lean forward, resting your forehead against the steering wheel. Your face is raw with the streaks of your tears, your clothes still damp from the wasted lemonade.

You take out your phone and scroll through your contacts. Coworkers you only call in emergencies; your mother who you only call on holidays; and friends you haven’t talked to in years. The twins won’t be much help, not by the looks of their Insta stories. They never offered much more than alcohol and dancing and you’re not in the mood.

You just want to curl up and sob until you fall asleep. You wince and glance in the mirror as your face aches. You see your reflection and gasp. Your cheek is swollen and the left side of your mouth. Oh, god. It really happened. He really hit you.

You start the car. You don’t want to waste gas driving around in circles. After a quick Google search, you think you have a solution. Temporarily. Just one night to be alone. To just detach before you have to figure out what comes next.

You stop at a grocery store you pass along the way. You grab a single bag of food to last you the night and then some. You follow the automated voice guiding you to your destination. You pull into the motel parking lot and heave again. 

You never imagined yourself being in this position. This isn’t Gone Girl. This is pathetic. You grab the paper bag and your purse and get out. You check in, the price making you question the integrity of the accommodation. 

You get to your room and lock the door. You go over everything with the cleaning wipes you tossed in your basket at the store. Then a cursory look over the bed. Nothing terrible, you suppose.

You undress and wrap yourself in the robe. There’s a laundry room just down the hall. It’ll have to do. You take your wallet and room key, along with your former outfit, and go to find the machine. When you're back in your room, you set a timer and flip through the channels on the small flatscreen.

You settle on a 90s sitcom you never really got into and dig through your bag of goodies for what little comfort you can find. You eat a few too many cookies and go through a small carton of chocolate milk before the alarm goes off. You go to switch your load and come back to search for whatever entertainment is left on cable TV.

When the load is finally dry, you retrieve it and leave the clothes folded by the door. You set out one of the paper cups beside the kettle with a tea bag in expectation of the morning before you turn out the lights. You keep the television on, volume at low, not wanting to feel as alone as you really are. You drift off the to buzzing commentary of an overplayed romcom.

Exhausted by the week behind you and the emotion of the day, you sink down into the turmoil of vivid dreams. Your day plays over and over, each time more demented and twisted to the last, until it ends with Johnny’s hand crashing into you endlessly. A pounding draws you from your subconscious horror.

Shit. Morning already. You grab your phone. It isn’t checkout time yet. You get up, still in nothing more than the robe, and go to the door. You crack is open just a little, expecting to tell the room service that you don’t need anything. 

Instead, you gape through the tiny space between the door and the frame at your unexpected caller. You try to close it but Lloyd slaps his hand against the wood, keeping it ajar. In his other hand, he holds a paper bag with handles. You can smell maple wafting from it. You see the stamp of an upscale breakfast place you pass every day but never go to.

“What do you want?” You croak through your dry throat, “how did you even know I’m here?”

“Can’t tell all my tricks,” Lloyd winks, “trust me, the complimentary breakfast isn’t much of a compliment. So…” He raises the paper bag.

“Are you crazy? I’m not letting you in,” you sneer, “you ruined my life. You–”

“I sent you a nice gift. Expensive, actually. Not my fault Officer Cuck can’t do the same.”

“Please–” 

“I’m offering you a free meal. You’re shacked up in this rathole, I’m sure you could use it. French toast or waffles?”

You glare at him with one eye. You suck in your cheeks as you consider the offer.

“Sure, leave it in front of the door and I’ll grab it when I’m gone.”

He laughs, “I get it, you’re not used to being taken care of but let’s try a little roleplay. You want the goods, you gotta take me with it.”

“I’m good. I got tea–”

You try to push the door shut again and he forces his foot into the gap. You huff and let out an exasperated growl.

“Really, I can’t handle this right now. Please just leave me alone.”

“Should I tell you how this turns out or do you want to solve that riddle all on your own? If you can find a place, you won’t be able to move in for another two weeks. And in that time, you’ll spend at least twice that in this hole. So, if you can afford first and last right now, I’m not sure you will then. 

“But I digress. You gotta go through and turn off those automatic payments for that box you shared with the douche nozzle. And you can’t get back the bills that already came out, huh?

“Maybe you’re the stubborn type. Maybe you sleep in your car for a few weeks, maybe you crash with a friend, that won’t last forever. And in the end, you go crawling back to the pig. 

“Or you go with Plan B.”

You stare at him, trying not to show your defeat.

“Me,” he smirks.

You don’t say anything. Your stomach growls so loud he can hear it. You close your eyes. You just want to be left alone.

“You don’t have to decide today, but you do need to eat something. So, you can go hope there’s some instant oatmeal left at the front desk or… you can put up with me for an hour.”

You brace the door and drop your chin. You put your hand on your hip and slowly retract your other. You back up and sit on the end of the bed. You fold in half, holding your head.

You don’t have the energy to argue with him. One hour. Fine. Whatever. He’ll figure out you’re not that special.