#who CARES if someone else is fucking nasty in their own house!!!!!!!!!!

[j-esbian]

HOAs are fucking wild. you're telling me that even if i legally own this home, i still have landlord rules. who the fuck cares if i have pets in the house that i own. it's my problem to clean up after them.

and who the fuck cares!!! about the color of my curtains!!!!!!!

[tautozhone]

idk how to start this so this post is ab individual action, trying to motivate positive change in the world, etc etc

a lot of growing up in the US for me makes things feel more scary than they are. like it’s actually not that difficult to go out of your way to get a bottle of water or iced cup of water from some random drive through if you think you should do it. either fast food conglomerate or local actually, it’ll usually be cheaper than 5 dollars to get drinkable water. i try to have 5-10 dollars i can justify spending on water, and asking for change, because sometimes when i’m out driving i need to go grab water.

i do not do this for me as much as i try to do it specifically when i see someone who’s most likely homeless on a street corner. i’m sure one day i might do this and they might not be there when i come back, but what have i lost really? a bit of time and a bit of money that would’ve meant more to them, that i can hold onto until i see them next.

the pressure that a lot of people feel when they think “what can i do” comes from this grand narrative that the average citizen can singlehandedly fix the housing crisis. rich people? maybe. nonprofits? not in a day, not all one person still. what can i do is a question i ask a lot. what can i do, not just because it feels bad to move along like nothings wrong with the world, but what can i do that will do anything. what can i do that makes even the smallest change.

i feel like it took me too long to figure out a personal method to what i consider individual action. it’s taking time to get to my own financial stability to be able to do more. but for now it’s as simple as water and cash. not water and food, but water and cash.

individual action means a lot in small steps, go get a bottle of water bare minimum and the price of a meal if you can and then just give it to them. if it wasn’t such a miserably hot place where i live i would keep a pack of water in my car, which i still want to do for the sake of having immediate access to water to give someone who might need it- hot or cold sometimes won’t matter. but when it’s hot out, get cold water, if it’s cold out, a warm tea will hydrate more than coffee will as long as it’s not super caffeinated.

[chrollohearttags]

fuck me like you hate me • eren jaeger x black fem reader

I know I said I hate seeing my babies fight but I’m tweaking over the idea of some nasty ass, filthy hate sex between eren and (y/n). Like imagine they’ve just moved in together, adjusting to living with another person and they have been walking around mad as hell at each other over dumb shit around the house and from work (him ignoring her for recording sessions and her on Instagram showing a lil too much for his liking). The tension is CRAZY. It explodes into a huge argument..they think about breaking up but instead, fuck their frustrations out, I—😫😫

content warning: very ROUGH sex, name calling, use of N-word (by reader obv) degradation, hitting, spit play, oral sex, fingering, backshots, slapping, choking, hair pulling, overstimulation, implied dacryphilia,breeding, marking and spanking, riding, .2 seconds of switch eren, bunch of other shit omg just proceed with caution, does have a really happy ending and lots of aftercare 🥹

word count: 8.3K

📝: and forewarning before anybody can come leave a dumbass comment, this isn’t in support or condoning of toxic relationships, fighting, domestic altercations/violence, etc. and this will be my very first and last time writing something of this degree. Also, this is purely fiction and all of these aforementioned topics will only be slightly touched on without graphic detail, as they can be extremely triggering and sensitive. Again, read this at your own discretion! (And keep it very cute)

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰──── ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡

“Shit! Oh my God—fuck! Moveeee..gimme my phone.”

“Shut the fuck up..you want to post everything, let’s post this.”

the words spewed like venom from between your boyfriend’s lips. Much like the many times that he called you baby, princess..or said ‘I love you’. But lately, things had been a little less affectionate around the Jaeger household. It had only been six months since the two of you had moved in together. Taking your newly public relationship to the next level and committing to one another. It was supposed to be a joyous time yet it was the exact opposite! As of late, particularly in the past few weeks, the two of you had been at odds and each other’s throats to say the least. The anger constantly building and only becoming worse by the minute. So much so, the both of you had questioned if living under the same roof was a wise option and even more so, contemplated splitting up..but alas, it seems you found a better solution:

“Show all your little followers how you take this dick. Let ‘em see you getting fucked like a slut. Since you wanna act like one.”

“Maybe I’ll show them how weak this lil’ stroke game is. Ain’t shut me up yet, baby.”

“But you can’t stop fucking up my sheets. Stop lying.”

the whole situation arose not too long ago, stemming from the fact that he had been working nonstop on new projects. As happy as you were that he was back into his groove, you were sick of being ignored and neglected for a damn album. Shelved and discarded like nothing more than a toy. It was infuriating, especially when you went out of your way after your own gigs and busy schedule to cook him dinner and make him snacks; even trying to surprise the man with a few little..outtakes and teasers from your photo shoots. Preferably the ones where you were nude or playing with yourself. Did he pay them any attention? Hell no. In retaliation, you decided you’d give him a taste of his own medicine..by blocking him on Instagram and purposely posting some rather wild shit. Such as you practically tongue kissing your homegirl as you guys took shots at the pool. Or twerking in a new fit normally worn by dancers and sex workers…it didn’t help matters any when he had to see the sultry posts by proxy from one of his friends, who shared it with him while at the studio one night and when he confronted you about it, you could care less. Saying that maybe someone else would appreciate it if he didn’t. Which had him completely irate and the situation escalated further than it ever should have. But this festering fire of resentment didn’t just boil over today. This had been due to weeks worth of rising frustrations. Eren felt as if he had worked to curate his sanctuary and you were destroying that and you were pissed that he agreed to you living together when he obviously didn’t even want you there. But it all came to a head only a couple hours ago..

flashback

the two of you standing in the bedroom, arguing and going at each other’s throats. Shouting and screaming..it was a situation you promised you’d never find yourself in after your ex and today, you’d had enough. You were ready to leave..call it quits on this entire thing because you refused to be in another toxic relationship. Especially when you cared so deeply for this man. But no amount of love could make you stay in this.

“You won’t even tell me why the fuck you’re so mad! Walking around with a fucking attitude and I’m supposed to read your goddamn mind?! Be serious!”

“Nigga, I shouldn’t have to tell you shit! I waited on you for three hours, Eren! Three motherfucking hours..got dressed, done my hair and everything and you fucking stand me up like my time ain’t worth shit. You don’t give a damn about anybody or anything except that stupid ass music.”

needless to say, tensions were high…you were both angry and it was probably best if you guys stepped away and gave yourselves time to reevaluate the situation but instead, you were running on fumes and pure fire. Only making matters worse. Thank goodness no housekeeping staff was around to hear this altercation because you guys would probably be on the front page of TMZ. Either way, neither of you cared. Right now, you just wanted to vent and get your peace out before the other could. “You mean the same music that’s paying your bills? That’s buying you those fucking purses and hair? Surely, you’re not complaining about that. You damn sure don’t when you wanna spend the money.”

making your blood boil with rage and your eyes well with tears. “You know what? Fuck you, I don’t need your money or nobody else’s. The fuck you think this is? I got my own shit. While you were laid up in the motherfucking suburbs, I was getting to this shit long before I got famous and damn sure before I met you..if you don’t want me here then say that.” But he wasn’t done. Not by a long shot and neither were you…no one wanted to admit they were in the wrong. “No (y/n). I want you to understand that I got business to handle. That I have obligations and if my boys gotta come tell me you’re out here kissing on bitches and entertaining other guys while I’m working then you go wherever you want. I’ve never chased anybody in my life and I damn sure won’t start now. Especially somebody who runs to the internet when they’re mad. Childish as fuck and no woman of mine is gonna have me out here looking stupid. Go be with whoever’s making you happy because it’s obviously not me. Hell, maybe you can work things out with your fuck ass ex since he won’t stop talking about you in his songs. I told you it was a bad idea for us to move in together right now but you just had to. Now look.” The words cutting like a knife clean through butter. Stabbing you in the heart with his hurtful words…you thought this was what he wanted as well and to find out that yet again, you were just another chore like everything else in his life, you were gutted. Not only that, he’d bring up your ex as if that relationship didn’t come along with emotional damage and physical scars. He knew how much of a sensitive topic that was for you and yet, when Eren got angry, he had a tendency to hit below the belt and do so without the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice. With tears in your eyes, unable to hold them back, you’d begin screaming all over again, hitting his chest and trying to take out all your anger on him. Even as you slammed your fists against him, screaming that you hated him and slapping his cheek, he stood there unfazed. He knew your words were from a place of hurt and your actions were not the real you. You’d never raise your hand at him because you knew what that felt like. But feeling as if he didn’t care, you were distraught! So much so, you’d become blind with rage and act out of a place you promised to never go to.

“I fucking hate you, Eren! Swear to fucking God, bro!—all you do is make me feel like shit. If you didn’t want me, all you had to do was leave me alone!” Shouting as you swing your closed fists at his chest, banging on him and wailing as you cry. Screaming and shouting to the top of your lungs.

it was by that point, he’d had enough of being your punching bag. Looking away from you, he’d grasp your wrists, stopping you in your tracks and that only enraged you more. “Let me go, Eren! I’m not playing with you!” Alas, he didn’t say a word though. He didn’t even so much as look at you..staring through you like glass; just holding your hands in place to avoid your hits. Instead, he’d push you to the mattress and pin you back by your wrists. “Don’t put your fucking hands on me, I’m not repeating myself..I don’t play that shit, (y/n). Do it again and we’re done.” grimacing his teeth and leaning down against your face. He was a firm believer that if a relationship ever got physical, it was time to end it. He could never bring himself to put his hands on you, even entertain the thought of it so he wasn’t about to let you disrespect him and do the same. But your rage could not be quelled and instead, you’d start to kick around until he’d bolt your legs down as well. Staring at him like this…hair down, beard and mustache forming on his face, you could tell he hadn’t been himself either and right now, there was a far more primal energy about him. Energy that seemed like it could devour your ass alive if you pushed one more button. “Or what? The fuck you gon’ do? Pussy.” And in that moment, you’d find out just what he had in mind when you decided to spit at his face and in retaliation, he’d only laugh..much more than he should've..right before putting his hand around your throat, clutching it so tight that it causes you to gasp. Restricting your breathing in the process. Which forced your mouth open and allowed him to return it with his own saliva, seeping onto your tongue. With his knee placed between your thigh, brushing against that thinly clothed cunt, he knew you were wet..getting turned on for him even now. “You liked that, didn’t you?” Feeding you a couple slaps to your cheek as you begin to realize the gravity of the situation. “Answer me, bitch. You like spitting so much, I got something for you to use it on.” Suddenly, he’d begin to lean up, tugging at the top of your head next to adjust to eye level with his erection. With one fell swoop from his thumb, he’d tug his sweats down and right before you was his thick cock, standing at full attention. He didn’t want to feel your hands..nothing but straight mouth and throat and right now, he’d guide you as he saw fit. You were his toy right now…shoving that dick between your lips, he’d start to fuck that pretty, tear stained face like it was nothing more than a sleeve. He could hear the gurgling in the back of your throat and feel how hard you were trying but since you had so much to say, he was going to make sure you ate those words.

“What’s that, baby? Can’t hear you..” mocking you as he used your mouth to his heart's content. Balls slapping your chin and jaws suctioned around his shaft. You’d attempt to put your hands up to his hips but he’d slap you and make certain you’d never do so again. Sucking his teeth, Eren laughed as he watched you struggle to engulf all eight and a half inches of that thick girth. “Can’t pop all that shit with my dick in your throat, can you?” Asking rhetorically but he wasn’t done rubbing salt in the wound..you had truly and utterly pissed him off and for the last time. In haste timing, he’d retract from your mouth only momentarily to the sound of you taking sharp gasps and drooling all over yourself. He’d force your head to the edge of the bed, where he’d crawl over and continue his brutal face fucking. But not before he spat in that oral cavity once more, looking at you as if you were nothing more than an object. Bucking his hips and thrusting as if it were an inanimate toy lying in front of him. Your insides were matching the sensation of that of a flesh light, maybe even better. By the time he got into it, a bulge began to form in the center of your esophagus. And try as you might to swat at him, he’d tell you to place your arms by your side and not move them until he stated otherwise.

“I think you’ve forgotten who you’re messing with, princess. I don’t know which bum you’re used to fucking but don’t you ever try that shit with me again. There’s a reason I said I don’t chase anyone. Why would I when I know I’ll have you crawling right back?” and he was right! This man had done things to you that would have any woman stalking him and sitting in his bushes. Even so, you were still pissed off and not much in the way of taking his shit lying down. So as he twitched slightly in your throat, you’d begin to gurgle and gag on his dick, doing tricks to inevitably make him tap out. Grasping the top of your head, he’d tug his shaft from between your lips and spin you around until you were flat on your stomach, and glaring up at his face as he gripped your chin. “You can fuck half the guys in the game and not one of them would ever make you feel the way I would. That pussy will always belong to me. Stop pretending you don’t know that.” His words were so condescending, it made you want to scream but you couldn’t disagree either. Eren always had a nasty habit of playing on people’s psyche and getting under their skin with his words. He was the type to read someone down and not miss a beat. When he was angry, nothing or no one was off limits. Tears were already streaming from your eyes and throat already sore from his brutal handling but he didn’t care. “So I’ve got a great idea…” looking straight past you, he’d extend an arm and lay a heavy handed slap across your backside, still tugging at your hair without any sort of regard for it. “We’re not leaving this room until you and I fix this.” He’d take a moment to clutch his other fist around his cock; tapping it against your tongue, which was hanging out. “Until I fuck you so stupid, you forget what you were so mad about. How’s that sound?” Patting your cheek and inflicting sharp slaps to your ass, causing stinging pain. Along with sensations to your pussy. Proving his words to be true.

Trails of saliva pooled..dribbling from your mouth. Gagging noises constantly arising and filling the room as he relentlessly and disrespectfully fucked that pretty face. At the same time, he’d reach forward so that he could slide two digits inside of inviting heat. Pushing those fingers in and out at an intermediate pace. He’d rub on the sensitive bud with his thumb and pump the other two profusely. You’d slowly start to rut yourself on them, unable to resist him for much longer. “There you go…good girl. I swear, you’re so much prettier like this. Sucking my dick instead of bitching…” he couldn’t help but to fling one more insult in there but trust, he preferred this to arguing any day. Any frustrations the two of you had could be left right here! Continuing to relentlessly fuck your face, Eren teased your little cunt for two reasons: one, because you couldn’t help but to whimper and the sensations caused your throat to spasm and two, he was preparing you for how bad he was going to beat that pussy up. When he finished, you wouldn’t have the energy to move, less known scream at him. He was tired of being at odds with the woman he loved. All too well did he know the pain of practically living with a stranger he felt nothing for and he refused for you guys to turn out the same way. Too many laughs, so much love had been shared between you two for it to end now..

amid disassociating, EJ withdrew his fingers and fat cock from between your lips before telling you to lie on your back. “Spread those legs..” Earning him a side eye from you as those thighs parted to reveal that dripping center. “Bet you’re wet as fuck, aren’t you? Admit it.” Plump lips that were freshly waxed and soaking wet, just for him. There was no one else in this world that could get you so undeniably aroused and you both knew it. Raking his fingers through those long, thick locks, he’d crawl on to the bed; knees pushing through the mattress as he grasped your ankle and tugged you towards him. In that same, swift motion..you’d find your legs pinned back to the covers and feet practically behind your head. “She missed me, didn’t she?” That smug look on his features as he so casually stroked the hood of your clit. He wanted nothing else from you than to wet that beard up. He could tell by the look in your eyes that you weren’t as infuriated as you once were and that fiery spark had dwindled to a twinkle of adoration. But if he knew one thing about you..it was that you’d play coy until you couldn’t any longer. You’d fake an orgasm, pretend to not be turned on. Anything to make him feel inferior. Because you’d try everything to deny him that satisfaction of pleasuring you. You were stubborn, yes but far more aroused..too much to hide it, in fact.

“No, and I didn’t eith—ahh fuck!” Your mouth left agape as he shoved a digit inside and let one rest dormantly on the clit. “Exactly as I thought. Shut the fuck up.” Sitting down entirely, he’d keep your legs pinned back in one hand, as it was nothing with his strength. With all his pent up energy and frustration he’d normally use to fuck you dumb, he had been putting towards intense workouts the past few weeks. Trying to find a way to channel that anger in a healthy way to avoid doing something dumb. Working those two fingers in and out, pumping slowly..Eren made certain you were looking him in the eyes as he maneuvered that little cunt with the delicacy of his hand. Pumping and rubbing in a fluid motion as if it were second nature. Taking you gently by the back of the head, he’d hold you up and let you watch him work. “Shit—I’m not gonna come. If that’s what you want.” “You’re so cute, thinking you have a choice in the matter. Like I said, we’re not leaving until we fix this. So you can drop the fucking act.” Amid his declaration, he’d look you dead in the eye, peering right about your stomach and spit onto your pussy. Disrespectful and raunchy about it as well. He had no regard for you as his girl or even a person right now. You were an object..his little slut he was going to break and mold as he saw fit. “Take your eyes off of me again and I swear to God, you won’t get to come at all. You really don’t want to test me right now.” And something told you, every word seeping from his mouth was a pure fact. This man’s forms of punishment were hellish. One time, you made him so mad, that he fucked you for an hour straight, using a combination of various toys and his cock until you were in tears and refused to let you climax once. No matter how many times he stuffed you or nutted himself. By the time he granted you permission, it was like releasing the pressure on a tightly coiled spring and you nearly collapsed from the intense pressure.

so reluctantly, you’d bat those big brown eyes and fluttery lashes as you watched your man devour that tasty little center. Those jade eyes fixated on you; akin to a shark lying in wait just above sea level..stalking its prey. All you could hear were smacking, slurping and faint moans but what you felt were sensations of pure bliss. Slick had begun to coat the tip of his nose as he nuzzled it between your slit. His tongue lapped up every remnant of those syrup like fluids..sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted. This man ate pussy like his life was on the line and it’d only be a matter of time before he had you as putty in his hands once more. Eventually, Eren would snake his palms up to your own and clasp them together, intertwining those fingers once he removed them, so that you two were holding hands. A level of intimacy that he only showed to someone he cared about. It was blatantly obvious that he still loved you..regardless of how angry you were. Especially when you heard him moaning and sucking on your clit, which inevitably made you melt in his grasp. “Mmmmph..fuck.” Whimpering so softly and slowly rutting yourself against his tongue. “That’s it..fuck my face, baby. Real slow.” The deep rumble in his voice makes you melt even now. Even when you were just screaming at him. Suddenly, your breath would hitch and he’d cause another pang of pleasure to rip through your body. His tongue flickered all throughout your folds and he’d leave gentle kisses on those lower lips. That’s when you felt more saliva on your quivering cunt, combining with your own sweet juices. Those eyes were beginning to cross, toes curling as they rested on his shoulders and that little hole, leaking like a faucet. “You taste so good…and I know it feels even better. Look at the way that shit’s leaking f’r me. Can’t even deny it..” As enjoyable as it was eating you out and normally, he’d stay down there forever, taking in your essence and flavor but for right now..he had to fuck the shit out of you!

suddenly, you’d feel that incredible oral come to an abrupt halt and Eren rising to his feet. Keeping that grasp on your thighs, he’d land a heavy handed smack to your ass and tell you to take hold of your legs now..as he had plans. “Keep that shit open. Hold them.” Demanding as he hovered above you..hand wrapped around his shaft; slowly pumping up from the base. Between using your throat earlier and eating you out, that dick was throbbing and thumping. He needed to be inside of you immediately or he was going to burst. Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. You were a puddle of dripping sex and arousal for him. With your panties dangling around your ankles and tank top pulled down, he tugged them off and stuffed the thin material into your mouth. He couldn’t lie..it looked so hot seeing you in such a vulnerable state. But you were going to need it for how hard he was about to pound your pussy. Glaring at you with a smug smirk, he’d place a hand into the center of your belly before easing his cock inside of you..which elicited a heavy grunt arising from his throat.

staring into your eyes, he’d start out with sharp, deep strokes. Ones that didn’t even allow you to adjust to before that cock began to curve up and kiss the inner corner of your cervix. His pace was already rough and somewhat sped up. He didn’t care about your feelings or how it felt. The only thing he wanted to see was a mess made of him. Whimpering through muffled lips, your head would slightly tilt back, along with those watering eyes as your skin collided; sounds of clapping flesh filling the room. It was then that you’d feel his hand creep up to the center of your scalp, tugging you down so that you were forced to see him bulging through your skin so early on.

“Take this dick. C’mon..” never breaking eye contact as he continued thrusting. His hips bucking and moving in a rhythmic motion. He had no regard for any part of you right now..you were merely a hole, a vessel for his pleasure and that was it. That smug grin on his face gave it away.. “fuck!..so deep—g’ahh..why are you fucking me like this? Shit!“ belting out in a shaky whimper through the gag of those panties as you clawed through your own skin with your fingers and palms planted to the backs of your thighs. You’d bite down on them in an attempt to quell that sensation. Feeding you yet another slap, Eren proceeded to take that comfort away by pulling it out and shoving those same fingers into your mouth. “Fucking shame it had to be like this, baby. But you asked for it. Shouldn’t have pissed me off.” Even with sweat trickling down his forehead and very obvious moans escaping his lips, he was still cocky and arrogant to a fault. Even if the grip of that fat cunt swallowing him as he slid in and out had him faltering, he’d never be so weak as to show it..not at a time like this at least. Slamming that cock balls deep; your pelvises clashing with a sheath of creamy fluid molding them together, Eren leaned all the way forward and pressed his entire body weight against you..as some sort of makeshift mating press. Your eyes locked and his lips pressing to yours.

“But imma make sure you don’t have shit else to say when I’m done.” Laughing with all faith and confidence that he could magically make this all go away. However, you were still in a bit of a confrontational mood and decided to challenge him.

“Is that right? Well shut me the fuck up then. Make me be quiet.” With that all too familiar glare in those gorgeous brown eyes of yours. The one that you gave him when you needed some act right..the one that screamed for him to do his worst. “You think your dick’s that good? Please, you don’t know what to do wi—“ Luckily, he was up for the task and you had a rude awakening coming. Snickering, Eren pulled himself up by only an inch, still letting you pop your shit and all; just enough to allow him the room to place his hand around your throat and squeeze until your tongue was hanging out. Meanwhile, his stroke had slowed to a more sporadic pace; thrusts becoming far more uneven and short, yet everyone hit your spot with precision. All the while, his jade eyes never left your own. Suddenly, he’d make good on your declaration and before you knew it…

“Well that was easy enough..what’s the matter, princess? Cat got that tongue? You were so loud earlier..cussing and yelling at me like you’ve lost your fucking mind. Where’s all that energy now? Hmm?”

suddenly, the bed would begin to jolt around..headboard slamming against the wall and the entire frame shifting under the weight of his hard thrusting. Taunting and fucking as if he were attempting to put you through the mattress! Couldn’t support your own legs anymore? No problem because all one hundred ninety five pounds of him kept you in place whilst that third leg of his drilled into your tightness, facing zero regard for the way you were shaking underneath him. The way you pawed at his six pack only to be slapped away so viciously and your jaws to be squeezed in his clutch. “Move your hand!” You couldn’t get so much as a gasp out as he continued pounding your little sex with all of his might. Cream was profusely leaking..practically dripping down that dick and sack as he kept going. Your titties were swaying around outside of that tank top, bouncing everywhere and looking so good, all for his viewing pleasure. In addition to that expression on your face as you were obviously nearing your climatic peak. He found it so funny how quickly that shift came once he got up in it.

“That’s fine. I don’t need you to do shit else but nut on this fucking dick. You can handle that, can’t you?”

you didn’t want to cave..give him the sheer satisfaction of seeing you submit but you’d be a bold face liar if you said that shit didn’t feel amazing. Especially with that hand around your neck and that thumb on your clit..stroking so gently that the minute bundle of sensitive nerves were already overstimulated. That swollen little bud twitching underneath the touch. It didn’t help matters any when he allowed a slow string of saliva to trickle down onto it either. It was blatantly obvious that you were trying to deny him that orgasm and in turn, prompt him to come instead by clamping down on his shaft but in that same breath, it was clear that his resolve was a little stronger than yours. You always had a habit of nutting quickly which would be your downfall right now.

“You can try to hold back all you want, baby but you will come f’r me. I don’t give a damn how long it takes…stubborn ass always wants to make things difficult, I swear.”

so casually pointing out one of your character flaws as he resides in your guts..something only he would do.

“Ah!—haaaaaa..fuck! Fuck you..still a pussy.”

blurting out with all the strength you could muster, along with still attempting to push him away which was, again, of no use! Instead, it only fueled him further and lengthened your punishment. Reaching down for those panties you had spat out previously, he’d rope them around your wrists and bind your hands together. It was obvious he wasn’t fond of your disrespectful outbursts or foul mouth. It was going to make it all the more fun to wreck you however!

“Yeah and you're still a dumb slut. ‘Fuck did you think this was?”

still impaling you on that cock and feeding you more slaps in the process. You were folding and fast but you’d try to maintain the little semblance of control you had but sadly, it was dwindling and before long, you’d be unable to hold back. And that moment came a tad bit too soon for your liking because only a minute later, you were gasping for breath, wrinkling around in the sheets..a stream of sticky fluids squirting all over those abs as if you had sprang a leak. It went everywhere; wetting up his six pack and pelvis, absolutely flooding the bed but he didn’t care. That’s exactly what he wanted. To see you shaking and convulsing, so needy and dependent on his cock that you couldn’t function without him. And he was well on his way to achieving that with the way he just fucked the shit out of you. It was such a powerful orgasm that you’d begin to shed tears; overstimulated from attempting to edge yourself and failing miserably. You lacked the restraint for that sort of thing but it presented the perfect teaching opportunity as he was in the mood to train you anyways on what being disobedient got you. Pulling out for a split second, he’d allow that swollen shaft and seeping mushroom tip to flap against your folds and drum out more. You were inconsolable but the worst was yet to come. Grabbing you by your hair, he’d grasp it tightly whilst hissing and chuckling in your ear.

“I break brats like you for fun, baby. Remember that.”

before kissing your temple in the most condescending way; it was true, he was the literal definition of a brat tamer and done so with pride. In another sudden movement, he’d tug you by that freshly done hair that wasn’t so fresh anymore and pull you down until he had flipped you over onto your stomach. Keeping you reigned in with that fistful of 613 wavy; dyed and toned to a deeper blonde, Eren planted a heavy hand smack to your ass as he flayed you across his lap. Demanding that you arch your back and put your ass up in the air. It was in your best interest to follow instructions but you were dead set on being defiant. If for nothing else, get the treatment you had been so desperately craving. For him to fuck that attitude out of you!

“Lemme ask you something, baby. What did you really think was going to happen when you decided to pull that little stunt? Trying to embarrass me?…”

ensuring that you had no other choice but to look him in the eye with those fingers still intertwined between your locks as he tugged your head back. You were practically panting, drooling like the fucked out little whore you were. Mouth agape and eyes glazed over whilst he stared at you.

“What? You thought I was going to ignore that shit? Or maybe you thought I’d get jealous enough to hop online and clear it up. You thought I was the rest of these lame ass dudes. You’re as stupid as you are pretty.”

Uttering the last line with vitriol before landing the hardest slap to your backside he could muster. Spanking you a couple times with the same force until you were flailing around and more tears had fallen. You were gritting your teeth, trying to maintain that mean glare you were trying so desperately to portray to make it seem as if you were not enjoying yourself. But he knew that was a lie. His heavy hands colliding with your flesh eventually began to form a burgundy blip and quite the sting. In addition to being choked, you were starting to feel it. That pleasurable pain that came with rough sex. It was the only way he could get his frustrations out on you at this point because actual harm would never be an option for him. He just wanted to teach you a lesson..

“And you’re still acting like a bitch. Mad about a lil’ instagram story—“

blurting out before he began to spank you again and clutch your throat as well. This time with enough force to make you squirm and cry some more. Making sure you didn’t talk out of turn again. “Shut the fuck up.”

he could tell you were still angry with him, still wanting to get your point across but that was all of no concern to him. He didn’t care about your bratty ass attitude. It barely even phased him. That was until he saw those pretty little streaks coming down your face and those eyes all puffy. That jaw clenched so tight, it’d probably shatter your teeth. “Ooh..don’t look at me like that. Makes my dick hard when you cry for me.” Like a true goddamn sadist…of course, those tears weren’t enough and he had plans to drum out more. Continuing to paddle you with his hand; releasing primal grunts as he spread your ass apart, kneading his fingers into your flesh and even shove his fingers back into your pussy. Meanwhile, he was still filling your mouth with sloppy kisses and more saliva. Spitting into your oral cavity with no regard. “Get up..arch that back and spread that ass open. Now.” And this time, too sore and weak to do anything else, you’d follow suit and place both hands on that round bottom, letting your acrylic nails display across that dark skin as you opened up for him. He damn near lost his composure when he saw that asshole flexing and puckering on instinct. But he had to regroup, get back into his zone and keep going.

mounting behind you, Eren hooked his fingers together, kept them around your throat and pulled you back on him once again..impaling you.

“Haaa! Fuck!—“ yelping in a high pitched cry as he fed you heavy backshots. The fat of that round, plump ass bouncing against him. Ricocheting in a haze of thunderous claps. Your legs trembled profusely, gripping on the pillows in front of you and biting down in an attempt to quell the brunt of those brutal strokes but it was no use. The curvature of your spine fluctuated as he kept going until you eventually collapsed underneath the weight and he’d bog down, planking over your entire frame as he drilled deeper. Those balls colliding with your ass and smacking against the sticky folds between your thighs. He’d place a hand to the small of your back just to keep you planted firmly whilst the other rested palm down in the memory foam material in front of you. “Oh my gosh, right there!” You’d grasp for Eren’s wrist as some sort of leverage and a sign of comfort. But he wasn’t much in the business of coddling you right now. Instead, you’d watch that opposite hand snake around for a split second to retrieve your phone that was lying next to you..set ablaze with thousands of notifications from this app and that contact. None of which were important at the moment. But he had other plans and ways to use that cellular device right now.

“You love taking pictures so much, right baby? Always showing off..”

just then, you’d see the flash of your rear camera beaming down above you and hear the sound of your video starting. He’d record each movement of your clashing skin..tugging you back, spanking your cheeks with each thrust and even when he decided to slide his thumb into your puckering hole. You’d release a shrill cry, whimpering and moaning. It didn’t take long to realize what he was doing and you immediately tried to stop him.

“Shit! Oh my God—fuck! Moveeee..gimme my phone.”

“Shut up..you want to post everything, post this.”

taunting you with that lens pointed at your face as he began fiercely fucking up into you. So much so, that your face meshed into the pillows. Trying to look away from the camera. Drool spilling from your mouth and your eyes completely dazed..not the most aesthetically pleasing position you’ve found yourself in nor did you want the rest of the world seeing..

“Show all your little followers how you take this dick. Let ‘em see you getting fucked like a slut. Since you wanna act like one.”

“Maybe I’ll show them how weak this lil’ stroke game is. Ain’t shut me up yet.”

“But you can’t stop fucking up my sheets. Stop lying.”

causing the two of you to begin laughing at the obvious truth. Which was far better than what was transpiring before.. “…shit..you got me.” eventually though, he’d save you from further embarrassment and let this sight be all for his own pleasure by tossing the phone aside. With your nails clawing into the sheets, (y/n) felt some semblance of control..somewhat able to gain leverage but soon, he’d take that away as well. Pulling your arms behind your back, he’d tug you up and continue drilling you from behind. Those sharp strokes were consistently hitting your core and soon enough, you were in the midst of another orgasm. Fluids puddling underneath you yet he gave you no leeway and just kept going. “Fuck..ion wanna fight with you anymore, princess. Your shit feels way too good for me to leave you alone.” Laughing as he reached underneath and massaged your clit to further increase that pressure. “Mmmph! Erennnn…I—“

it would seem that your pathetic moans had softened him just a bit because next thing you knew, he was leaning down to place kisses onto your shoulder blades and spine. “I know, baby..I know.” By now, he had you hooked into somewhat of a headlock position..almost as if he couldn’t make up his mind as to what he wanted to do with you. Perhaps that had something to do with him nearing his own climatic peak. You could feel that hard cock pulsating inside of you and soon, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Sweat began to trickle down his forehead, his tongue out and his chest heaving..he was close. So close that he couldn’t even pretend that he was angry with you any longer. There was no more of keeping up this silly charade that you were mad. You couldn’t give up so easily..not when there was no man on this earth you wanted more. But he did have one thing to say to you, something that he was determined to drill into your head. Grasping your hair, he’d grunt into your ear..

“You’re mine, baby..you can’t leave me, alright? Promise me you’re not going anywhere..”

“I—ahh! I’m not…I’m sorry—“

“I’m sorry too, mama. Fuck!”

gasping with all that you could muster. And only seconds later, you felt him halt in his tracks and that warm fluid flowing into your womb. Letting out an ear shattering grunt, Eren pumped that nut into you and didn’t miss a beat. That hot, white load dripping from your battered cunt for the brief moment that he pulled out to switch positions..the mood had obviously shifted and the two of you were no longer at each other's throats and were instead shoving your tongues in each other’s mouths. “C’mere..give me a kiss.” Moaning and practically yearning for the other’s touch. Those hard pulls and smacks had slowed to tender grasps and Eren so lovingly brushed your face before pulling your hand along to climb on top of him. You didn’t even have time to exchange words, just tangled limb in limb as you made out in a passionate haze…feeling up your skin with his hands roaming your back and yours caressing his face. Leaving tender, warm kisses that made him melt for you all over again. With his lip quivering and eyes all glossed over, he’d glare up at you..begging for you to slide it back in as he was becoming far more spent than he hoped to admit. Even so, you’d do exactly that and place your hands on his chest in the process. “Oh my God…” “Oooh, baby..yes.” the cries leaving your mouths simultaneously as you impaled yourself on that throbbing erection. That mushroom tip splitting open your puffy folds yet again and emitting droplets of cum as it slid in. You were already full but he was hoping to stuff you to the brim. Hell, maybe he would get you pregnant tonight because that was the type of mood he was in. “This dick feels so good..I need all of it..” so desperately admitting as your ass slowly collided with his pelvis. “Take it then, baby. It’s yours.” Rocking back and forth, slowly grinding..going up and down on that cock. It took a moment to center yourself; to gain your balance but once you did, you were riding him to kingdom come. Fucking every bit of those frustrations out of him. Leaving a puddle of creamy, pearlescent fluid all over the base of his pelvis. And needless to say, he was loving every second!

“Ride that shit..oh fuck..” grunting with his arms folded behind his head as he casually enjoyed your ‘talents’. Including making circular motions..bouncing up and down as you propel yourself on his cock. His thick girth stretches you out with each one. Eventually, your head would fall backwards and you’d find yourself practically howling his name whilst still clawing at his chest. You were making an absolute mess of him and Eren was losing his mind! It was as if you were a completely different woman right now. One determined to drain him dry and milk him for every last remnant of his nut. He couldn’t slow you down, stop or even halt you right now. All he could do was toss his own head back and knead his fingers into the flesh of your ass. He’d leave a few light smacks to serve as encouragement but you needed no help whatsoever. You were in control now…

“Fuck me! Fuck me! Baby..yes.” crying out with his legs trembling and toes curling underneath you. The grip that tight little cunt had on him was about to drive this man insane and into another nut. Panting and wailing with his hands clutching your waist. Just then, he’d prompt you to sit still and let him fuck up into you..each sharp thrust hitting that sensitive core and causing yet another stream of sweet juices to come trickling down your thighs and onto his lap. But before you even had a chance to recover, he’d pull you back down and continue drilling until..

“Eren! Fuck!..”

“I’m coming, baby! Let me come in it—“

and before the sentence was completed, you were all but stuffed yet again. Letting him throb and pulsate inside of you as he emptied his seed in your womb. The two of you were clearly spent and quite honestly possessed no more energy to be angry. It was blatantly obvious that you had obviously forgiven one another as well. He ever so gently touched the side of your face yet again and glared into those gorgeous eyes. You’d lay flat against his chest and let him massage your back as well. And it’s then that he noticed a warm, dampened spot on his pecs and he’d tilt your chin up to see you sobbing. The intensity of the orgasms and the moment itself had seemed to overwhelm you quite a bit..

“Hey, princess..c’mere.” Coddling you in his grasp and hugging you tightly. He’d even cradle a palmful of your hair in his fingers and kiss your temple once more. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

and the response to his question nearly broke his heart in half. “I’m sorry..I just realized I don’t want to lose you. Do you really hate me? I know I did some stupid shit but I didn’t mean it.” And Eren nearly burst into tears himself but instead cradled you close and murmured into your ear. “..(y/n)..baby no. I could never hate you, even if I tried my hardest. I love you so much. That’s why I get so crazy behind you. Because I know there’s no one I want more.” Suddenly, he’d cup your face between his palms and plant a loving kiss on your forehead. No matter how mad you may have been at one another before or even if you screamed your lungs out, there wasn’t anything in this world that could break you apart. He had spent his entire life searching for a woman like you and there was no way that he could give it up so easily. Taking your fingers into his own, he’d clasp your fingers together..

“Do you mean that?”

“Never meant anything more in my entire life. Listen, if you ever feel neglected by me..like I’m not doing right, tell me. Please..I just wanna be the best man I can for you. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel less than your worth, princess.”

which is all it took for you to fall apart. Sniffling into his chest, you’d let Eren rub your back until he was able to console you. The two of you would just lie there; soaking in the moment and reveling in each other’s essence. Darkness had set over the room, as nighttime har set and you realized just how long you had been at it. Breaking into a soft giggle, you’d turn your face back towards him and for a few minutes, you’d just slowly let your tongues clash..exchanging sloppy kisses and practically wanting to live in one another’s skin.

“Hey, why don’t we get up from here, go take a bath and order some food? How’s that sound for you?” All of it sounded absolutely perfect to you and without question, you’d accept. He just wanted to spend all the time getting close, holding and keeping you by his side. He’d take however long you two needed to get back to the way it was. No amount of albums, Instagram posts or anything else mattered more in this world.

than the love you two shared.

[deaddovedecadence]

hello ! I hope you’re well I wanted to ask you if are planning to do something about the platonic batfamily ? Thank you for your work, you’re literally my favorite blog 🥰. (sorry if there are spelling mistakes)

Ah thank you for the question i love it so much! What we’re doing today is breaking down each yandere and how they treat you in order

Alfred: very gentle, very caring. He makes you think that he’s on your side only to betray you if you ever try to run away. His loyalty is to the health and well being of the family and if you left it would nasty for all parties involved. He isn’t overly possessive, and is the most likely to let you out and about (so long as you’re with him or another trusted member of the family)

Bruce: At least you were a tool for making up with his son, but he grew to see you as his own child. You’re younger then Dick so he treats you as such, and is very unlikely to let you out of his grip,/let you out of the house because he’s paranoid. He’s the ultimate possessive yandere, wanting to keep you safe in the house at all times. He’s like this with his children too but because they’re fighters/have proven themselves it’s a lot different

Dick: Good luck with this. Dick sees you as someone who deserves childhood, who deserves to be young, so he treats you younger then you actually are. He’s very possessive, and almost doesn’t realize that you’re capable of taking care of yourself and he’s ver y smothering because of that. He’s the type of yandere to be in his own world and not really see. things as they actually are..

Jason: Caretaker to the fucking MAX. He likes. taking care of people and things that he considers his and you are absolutely one of those things to him. He needs to tak3 of things because it makes him feel real, feel. focused again especially when he’s tired of angry. The least likely to ever hurt you but will break you mentally if he has to.

Cass: does not get it, at first. She doesn’t understand why her family wants something that she perceives as helpless as one of them. Cass is all about getting her shit done and you interfere with that. It isn’t until she sees Jason visibly relax around you and stay in the same room as bruce that she understands. You keep things stable which means that you need to stay. She‘ s obsessively, can be cruel and uses physical punishment like forced dancing or sparring to keep you in check if you leave or deny your place in the family.

Tim: Oh good fuck. Tim is pretty close to yandere in canon, he’s terrifying, possessive of what he thinks is his and cruel as hell. with you he’s cruel cold, only to turn gentle when he deems it the right moment. Tim wants to break you because that means that you won’t run away and try to go and be somewhere else (with someone else). Tim is sadiastic and if he and damian are working together it’s best to go and beg jason for sanctuary from them.

Duke: Honeslty you aren’t sure whether he’s like you or like them at first because Duke is so easy doing, listens to your problems so well and makes. you feel like you’r valid for being angry. It’s all true what he says, it’s just that he also is on his family’s side about you and is slowly working his way into your heart in a way that the others can’t because they’ve never been where you (and he) has. Duke is the gentle yandere unless you really manage to make him angry by getting hurt in any way.

Damian: I wish you the best of luck. Damian is the son of thalia and bruce. His ver y nature is to be possessive over anything that he considers his and you are his. You’re his older sibling in a way that Dick is, someone to be trusted, someone to ask questions too, but that does not mean he’ll let you escape. If anything the thought makes him infuriated and he’s likely to blow up. Damian is obsessive, and sadistic, willing to do anything if it means that you’re safe at home with him.

[chronically-ghosted]

i'm swingin' blind and you're stunning me without any gloves

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 9K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: the night continues while the two of you dance around the inevitable. dieter's restraint is foiled by dreams of a water bed.

warnings/tags: depictions of drugs, age gap, cum eating, piv sex, not actually incest but close, concerns about getting old, reader is at least 18 (by how much is up to you), no use of y/n, oral (f receiving), hand jobs (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, squirting, the barest hint of overstimulation, oh and SMUT.

🤍AO3 Link

🤍Series Masterlist | Prev | THE END

🤍Masterlist

“Do all movie stars have six empty bedrooms they don’t use?” 

“They’re not always empty . . . I mean, it’s good for parties. Gives people space to get out of the chaos if they want, or if they need a place to crash. Keeps the energy, uh, flowing. Keeps the vibes good.” 

He uses the joint to take the place of having to explain that the room you just passed was in fact used as a revolving door for anyone who wanted a bump only two weeks ago. The second floor stretches out into the darkness, the nasty weather outside beating against the windows. He keeps a slow steady pace, the high making his insides comfortably warm as you wander in and out of rooms, like a less frantic, totally-fuckable version of that Scooby Doo gag. He’s quite sure he’ll never be able to watch Saturday morning cartoons the same way.

So far, you’ve been content with asking rather inane questions, filler questions that he suspects you’re hoping reveal more than he’s giving. The response to the question being more important than the answer itself. 

So no one lives in these rooms? No.

Do you ever use these as anything else other than bedrooms? No.

What’s outside by the pool? A gym.

A gym with full length mirrors that he used to adore snapping selfies in, in his younger cop show days, and without much prompting, would admit to masterbating to on occasion. 

You’ll always be your own greatest critic so fuck ‘em.

You come out of the last bedroom, smirking faintly as though someone had told you a particularly naughty secret, humming faintly to yourself. He never much cared for giving tours but given that you walked ahead of him and gave him adequate time to ogle the backs of your thighs, he could think of worse ways to spend time with you. 

“Mhm hmm,” you mutter to no one in particular. The carpet is plush, but that is the only thing you could say you really enjoyed about the style of the house. Everything else, especially the almost clinically clean air to it, makes it feel like a hotel, as if Dieter is mold growing in someone else’s house. Again, these are filed as things that helped fill out the picture of the man your uncle had become, if not the man he wanted to portray.

“So where do you sleep?” 

He had been lulled into such a stupor of quiet fantasy fueled by his warm high that he didn’t even think twice when he pointed down the hall. 

“God, it just keeps going, doesn’t it?” 

Turns out the path to moral degradation isn’t a straight line, but a curved slope. One he finds himself on, going down round and round and round, the longer he watches your legs, the curve of your ass, the bright smile as you quite obviously tried to get a glimpse of the old Dee. But that's the thing about drugs that he finds he so actively craved – of course there is the euphoria, the chemical sensations, the wires of your brain plugged into different outlets and restarting the whole system. But he's found that’s when people tended to be their most honest, most unpolished and they weren’t afraid to be like that. 

There was a lot of talk around the ego and the ID in his early acting classes. Who was your character when their ego had been pulled back like strips of skin? 

But as he got older, the question he became more obsessed with was, who were the people around him when they weren’t being paid to like him?

You, of course, are different from all that. You hadn’t built up an ego quite yet. You hadn’t built up the mechanisms required to survive the world because you hadn’t needed to. Sure, you could deflect and get what you wanted by batting your eyelashes, but there are times he felt ugly in the skin he had built. Like somewhere along the way, he had tried on all these hats and now they had all attached themselves to his head and he couldn’t tear them off if he tried. His costume didn’t fit– his face wasn’t even visible any more. 

And who exactly had spent the last fifteen minutes trailing after his beautiful, carefree niece, a single breath away from getting so hard it hurt, in this massively empty mansion? What version of himself wants to snake a hand into those shorts and effectively ruin you for anyone else – wanted to grip you so hard there’d be bruises and tears in your eyes when you came? 

Which one of them is he willing to show you?

All of them. None of him. The ID.

You glance over your shoulder, curious that he hadn’t answered you. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, smoking between his two fingers again. “Could get lost in a place like this.”

You pause in your inspection, eyes soft because of the drugs or the low lighting or something else, and take his hand. “Lucky I’ve got you then.” 

His mouth is instantly dry in a way that has nothing to do with the weed. He offers you the joint and you smoke too, eyelids drooping, allowing him another second of looking. 

And then another smile breaks across your face.

“Fuck,” your laugh turns into a cough. “Did you ever get that stupid fucking waterbed you wouldn’t shut up about? I remember you swearing the first thing you’d buy when you were rich and famous was a waterbed – which I thought was so fucking cool because I’d never heard of a waterbed before because I was seven and it sounded like something totally made up — so of course, someone rich and famous could have one.”

You’re still holding hands, your palm dry and warm, when he laughs too. He takes the joint back from you, eyes narrowing as he looks at you out of the corner of his eyes.

Turns out moral degradation is a fucking cannon ball. 

“Why don’t you go see for yourself?” 

You squeeze his hand, eyes bright, before almost sprinting down the hall to the room on the right. He follows you, struck by the notion this is the first and last time you’ll ever enter his bedroom. This has to be the end of something.

He hears a grunt and a groan and he can’t help but smile. He saunters into the room, leaning up against the door frame with his hands in the pockets of his robe. You are face down on the mattress, hands under your chest. 

“This is not a water bed,” you grumble, the sound muffled. 

Once again, Maria deserved a raise just for making his bed. 

“No, it’s not,” he says slowly, as he edges a teasing tone into his next words. “Look, I did get a fucking water bed, alright? Just about a century ago when they were still a thing.”

You ease up onto your elbows and glare at him. “Can’t believe you got rid of it. What a waste.” 

And then you’re sliding back onto your knees, hands planted on the covers, and for just a second, he swears he can see the outline of your cunt through the material that could hardly be called shorts. 

His knees actually buckle for a second before he stands up right and physically has to close his eyes. Looking away wouldn’t have been enough. 

But you don’t see all of this. You’re frowning down, as if glaring hard enough will bypass physics and liquidate the mattress. 

“What happened to it? The water bed, I mean.” 

Just as he’s gotten his heart rate back under control, your question throws everything into a spiral again. 

Do not fucking tell her about the hookers and the brass pasties. Or the cock ring. Definitely do not mention the cock ring. 

“It, uh, popped.” 

You smirk over your shoulder. “It was a sex thing, wasn’t it?” 

The question lingers, Dieter unable to make a coherent word that didn’t sound like take your pants off right fucking now, so he swallows and shakes his head. By some minor miracle, you shrug and don’t push it, sliding off the bed and completing your assessment of his life by regarding the book collection against the opposite wall. 

It’s bigger than you expect someone like Dieter to have, but its placement in the house – almost hidden in his private bedroom – suggests that its volume is not there to impress. It’s his personal collection and, judging by the bent spines, books he’s actually read, perhaps several times. There’s a small desk next to it, crouching in the corner and littered with sheets of paper that look like they were torn from a sketchbook. 

He couldn’t decide which version of himself he wanted you to see less: Dieter, full of vices, or Dieter, bratty actor who only acted in the first place because he couldn’t cut it as a real artist. 

Your hands run over the sketches, eyes annoyingly unreadable, and just as he’s about to leap forward and scoop all of the sketches into the trash, you move on. Your interest is caught by some of the books. You make noises that are both outside of the realm of approval or disgust and he finds himself nervous. Book reading is about the last thing on anyone’s mind once they’ve reached the final destination of The Bedroom, so he’s never worried about what someone might think. But this isn’t just someone, it’s you. 

His mouth opens to make some quippy remark, when you gasp and lunge forward, grabbing something at the back of the shelf.

“Holy shit, that’s you!” 

You hold up a picture of his high school’s production of Othello and there he is fifteen and smack dab in the middle of the cast. 

“Oh fuck, I forgot that was there,” he groans, dropping the nearly gone joint into an ashtray by the side of the bed. You’re practically glowing with excitement and he rolls his eyes as he takes it from you.

“Jesus Christ, look at that kid. Has no idea what kind of dumbass he’s going to grow up to be.” 

Three years after that photo was taken, he had left in the middle of the night for Hollywood. Of course, just as he had finished packing up his piece-of-shit Chevy, Enrico caught him. Exploded in his face and scolded him in his old man ways for leaving without saying nothing. 

He kept this photo because it was the last thing that reminded him of home and yet so distant it didn’t hurt as bad any more. 

“I think he did spectacular for himself,” you grin at him. “Who knew The Dieter Bravo was such a softie for the old days?” 

He smirks at you, finally sick of you kicking his ass all night. There is a line between fucking you and out sassing you, one he could live with. You aren't fucking ready for that Dieter. 

“No way,” he rubs the bottom of his lip with his thumb, artfully contemplative, and purposefully distractingly hot. “Just keep it around for the spank bank. Ms. Lemons was a babe.”

You narrow your eyes at him as he leans across you to put the photo back.  “Oh yeah? I gave my first blow job in that blackbox.”

“No, you fucking didn’t.”

“Yes I did!” 

“What was his name?”

“Jeremy.”

“Jeremy what?” 

“Jeremy . . . Barnes.”

“Pssh, fake name, fake boyfriend, fake story.” 

“He was real! I just . . . can’t remember his last name right now.” 

“Blurs together with all the other guys you’ve blown, right?” 

You bite the corner of your mouth, your smirk so tight he can almost picture your toes curling. Not that he’d dare break eye contact with you now. Now that he’s got you practically pinned to the bookshelf, photo forgotten and something that’s been slinking around for the past three hours finally rolling on its back and exposing its belly. 

He knows The Look, he practically invented it, and he can’t quite remember why it’s not okay to get that from your niece and someone twenty years younger than him. Right now, the portion of his brain that can sort that’s fucked up and it’s not that hard to refrain from being a fucking creep is filled with smoke, a sort of hissing sound there that is not unlike a shaken soda begging for release. 

And dear God does he want release. But he’s willing to edge it just a bit longer, scrape that muscle as gingerly as he can before touching it where it needs to be touched.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you say softly, meekly being cowed for the first time all night. Fuck, do you have to make it so easy?

“That’s right. You don’t. Because if it were any good, you’d remember it.” 

He puts a hand above your shoulder to stop himself from sinking into you. Weed made the world feel plushy, moldable – and he just wants to lounge in the dip of your bottom lip. You look so different from the girl who showed up soaking wet at his front door. 

Your breathing hitches the closer he comes, your eyes fluttering as you watch his fingers dig into the spines of the books. 

“What’s his first name again, darling? Do you still remember that?” 

You gasp, loudly, as if his itching fingers had finally sunk in between your legs, but you’re sliding away from him and pulling out something from the shelf. Something white and something he should have fucking hidden better. 

“Oh my God, is this my senior yearbook?” 

You’re wandering over to his bed, leaving Dieter reeling, his own spell so alarmingly effective he is caught beneath it too. It takes him a moment to blink as he realizes maybe this is where you reneg and decide you don’t want to fuck him after all. 

“It’s not as weird as it sounds –,” he begins, heart in his throat, and hands safely in his pockets as he joins you near the bed. You still haven’t looked up as you flip through the glossy pages.

“Sure, sure.” 

“Look, your dad sent it to me and I didn’t even open it,” he says honestly. The package was delivered on the Tuesday afternoon when he woke up so hungover he actually thought he might die, and couldn’t bear the thought of not recognizing you in the class photo. 

Funny how that all fucking worked out. 

You hadn’t leapt off the bed, called him a dirty old man, and ran away to call the police. Which are probably good signs. So, slowly, he sits down next to you, halfway on the bed and halfway off. 

“He sent it just a few weeks ago. I didn’t really think much of it at the time,” he says quietly. So you had been on the high school��s newspaper staff, as well as being the captain of the journalism club and ran the book club. You were on the volleyball team and co-Secretary of the student body government. Here, he spent all night trying to find out what kind of person you are when half your life is waiting for him upstairs. “But maybe he sent it as, like, some sort of . . . fond reminder.”

You snort, your thumb tucked under your chin as your hand touches the memories on the page.

“No, it fucking wasn’t. He was guilt-tripping you.” 

So your dad definitely still remembered the fight all those years ago. Dieter grimaces. His gaze slides from the stock pages, to your knee, down the crease of your thigh. 

“You know, he would have made me your godfather if–,” 

“If you weren’t such a fuck up. Yeah, he told me that too.” 

You finally look at him and find him nearly out of breath, eyes wide as though he had been struck by a sledgehammer right to the chest. 

“Actually, he told me if I came around more.” 

Your face crumples, the flippancy gone.

“Fuck, Dee, I’m sorry.” You cup the back of his neck with your palm in a soothing gesture and it stirs something within him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It is what it is.” Deflection, distraction, escape.

You smile gently, thumbing his curls as your eyes roam his face, seeing right through his bullshit.

“You know, you kinda became the cautionary tale around us growing up,” you murmur, gaze searching his face. “Not sure why, though. Since you’re, like, a gazillionaire.”

Not worth it. None of it’s worth it.

“I get that. I get why he didn’t want me around. Probably best that I fucked off and never looked back.” 

The corners of your eyes crinkle, as though he had said something that didn’t make sense. You stop combing his hair and run your thumb over his ear. 

“But I don’t think you are,” you say slowly, as though you didn’t need to explain. “A cautionary tale, I mean. I think you’re . . . an inspiration. No one in our town ever fucking leaves, but you did. You got the fuck out and lived your dreams. And that’s pretty cool.” 

There’s not any hope for me, not if you knew all the fucked up shit I want to do to you. 

Don’t look at me like that. 

When he looks around for some self control, something to pull himself out of the pit he’s dragging you both in, there’s nothing. All eroded. 

Moral degradation is a smooth fucking shot. 

The yearbook drops from your lap, clatters to the ground as he takes your face with both his hands, his rings pressing into your cheeks, and kisses you so hard his lips knock against your teeth. The force of it rocks you flat against the mattress, your fingers wrapping around his wrists, grounding you to him – don’t take this back, don’t let go – and his tongue runs against your bottom lip once before your mouth opens without hesitation. He can feel that, that desperation, that eagerness to let him in, and he groans into the hollow of your mouth and you take it, you match it, just like everything else he'd given you this night. 

Your tongue rises to catch him, to guide him, to show him the places you need to be touched. He’ll get there, you little thing, so he nips your upper lip and you gasp, your body tightening beneath him. He grins – there’s so much you have to learn. 

His palm drifts away from your jaw, thumb gentle as it coaxes your cheek to the side, before he latches his lips to your neck, sucking and then a quick bite– all eased by his tongue. Your fingers dig up into his hair, clutching him to your chest as there is anything, anywhere else he’d rather be in the world. As if anyone could pry him off you. 

He dives back into your mouth, air rushing out of your nose in a silent moan, and your knee hooks out around his hips, pulling him into the cradle of your lap. You jerk back –

“Dee, you’re – holy shit –,” 

Your hips brush up as if you had somehow gotten it all wrong the first time. As if he isn’t rock hard above you. Your eyes widen as he smirks down at you.

“Yeah, baby, that’s all you. All you do to me.” 

He chuckles, dropping his head to your chest, breathing deeply, head spinning from kissing you so thoroughly. He inhales, nose rubbing against the soft material of your shirt, ideas of peeling it off you with his teeth. Your scent, it’s all at once intoxicating, mesmerizing, and . . . familiar. 

He groans, almost nuzzling your chest.

“Fuck, this smells like that nasty deodorant from 711 I used to buy ‘cause I couldn’t afford anything else.” 

You slowly open your eyes up at him, a distantly embarrassed smile curling up the corners of your mouth. You look hazy, blurred, lips flushed and pink from getting them sucked and bitten. Had he not just licked your entire mouth clean from spit, you might have blushed.

Your fingers curl gingerly around the back of his neck. “Well, you never forget your first.”

His mouth falls open. You had successfully knocked him back on his ass for a second time that night. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he husks, a grin breaking across his lips as the hand at your shoulder pulls gently at the sleeve. “This is my shirt? This has got to be older than you are.”

A small part of his brain, the part that definitely would object to fucking his pseudo-niece, goes warm at the thought that some part of him still lived in that neighborhood, was still there for all the important moments of your life. 

That is until the very active part of his brain lumbers in, quashes all gentle feelings and promptly wrestles for control of his mouth to ask you flat out if you ever touched yourself while wearing it. Not that he didn’t want to know, but if you said yes, he would have come right there on the spot, perhaps so hard his dick popped off. So he did not ask you that, but he did satisfy that part of his brain by molding his hand around your hip, so he could feel the cool fabric on the back of his hand, and your warm, plush skin against his palm. 

You like her being drenched in you, don’t you? 

You swat at his chest, rolling your eyes, oblivious to his rapidly darkening thoughts. “It is not older than me, but if it was . . . would that be a problem?”

You pick at imaginary lint on his shoulder, hips rolling just enough to indicate it better not be a fucking problem, and a smirk on your face that reads innocent and filthy all at once. 

Dieter shakes his head, grinning as he inches his wide palm up your hip, across the thin flesh of your ribs and – 

Does not find a bra. 

You had not been wearing a bra the entire night.

Your smirk deepens, your back arching into his palm, as his thumb brushes the underside of your breast, then over your tightening nipple. You moan softly, eyes fluttering, when he pinches it deftly. His jaw ticks, teeth grinding from the pleasure of watching your mouth arch open. 

It’s like you had been given a list of all the things that turned him on and you are crossing them off one by one. Like you had skinned him and read all his little nasty thoughts written on his ribs and made them your own.

Like you were made for him. 

He leans forward, the bristles of his beard and mustache rough like matches against the shell of your ear, his voice so weighty it could have been another physical thing he intended to drive into you, intended to rub against you to make you keen with pleasure. 

“It’s not a fucking problem, you little brat. Only problem is gonna be if it keeps me from watching those pretty tits bounce while I fuck you.”   

There it is. Out in the open. As if all his flirting and touching and tongue between his teeth hinted at something else besides you spread out under him. Half delirious from being so hard, he grins as he bites the bottom of the shirt – his shirt, Jesus Christ – and pulls it up and he ducks his head under the material and presses a sucking kiss into the valley of your tits. 

He likes giving head from underneath the sheets because, yes, it was hard to breathe. It was hot and stifling and everything smelled of sweat and sex and eventually his brain was forced to make a decision about what motor functions to hold onto and he made it focus on sensations until he was sure he’d be swallowed up by the cunt under his mouth or impaled by the cock in the back of his throat and if that’s how they found him dead, he’d be absolutely fine with all of it. 

Dieter Bravo – died doing what he loved. Giving immaculate, delicious head. 

The heat under the shirt is nowhere near as intense but it’s enough to make him flush with want. He licks the sweat gathering underneath your right tit, holds it on his tongue before he lathers both his spit and your sweat over your clearly-painfully tight nipple. Every touch of his makes you stutter and he can feel you unconsciously rubbing your hips up against him. 

“This isn’t going to end up on Youtube or some shit, right?” You ask above him, your voice rough as though your throat is dry. “You don’t have cameras filming this, right, Dee?” 

He chuckles with his nose rimming your left nipple. Do you have a voyeur kink? He muses vaguely. 

Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have gotten rid of that mirror. 

“No, baby, it’s not going on Youtube.” He runs his warm palms up the curves of your side as he tugs his head out from underneath the shirt. “All the videos go directly to a password-protected server in the Cloud.”

“Dee–,” you groan as he lunges forward and kisses you hopefully so hard it knocks those silly thoughts from your brain before pulling back to grin helplessly at you. 

You cannot physically describe how impishly adorable he looks with his hair mussed, his lips pink and twisted in a smirk – you cannot really do anything at all, really – but your hand slides up from his shoulder, across his warm neck and settles into his cheek. The last bit of brown is swallowed by a swelling blackness as you rub your thumb across the bottom of his lip. This thing that has been eating at you the longer you’re around him edges you on, daring you to push him just a bit further because it knows you’d just love what he’ll do. It knows more than you, but it’s not exactly smarter than you. It’s just simply fascinated by Dieter Bravo. 

Your own mouth parts, your eyelids growing heavy, as you swipe across his lips one more time before sliding your thumb into the warmth of his mouth. Eyes never leaving yours, his tongue greets your thumb, massaging the pad before licking around it like he’d swirl off the top of an ice cream cone. He sucks gently and you can’t fight the noise that comes out of you. Almost shocked, surprised that you can feel this aroused with all your clothes on and just his tongue. He drags his tongue across the back of your knuckle and the groan is louder now – you want to bite into him – and he pushes his hips into the mattress. 

“C’mere, baby girl–,” 

Dropping your thumb, he dives in again for your mouth, this time the back of his hand grasping your neck. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you as if forgetting there was another way to relieve the tension in his gut, the spark that's fanning smoke like a brushfire into every place your skin, your spit, touches his. 

“Take– this– off–,” He pants between the hot presses of his mouth to your jaw, your neck, the spot beneath your ear that makes you keen in a new way. His hands are scrambling over yours to get the shirt up and over your head, desire almost making him panic that everything is going too fast but not fast enough – he wants to be inside of you in every way that matter – he wants you to smell like him – to breath his same air – 

He’s not so much kissing as opening his mouth over your skin, his teeth and tongue and lips fighting over themselves to get to you first. He wants to linger, wants to take his time but the pressure – he deliriously thinks he can smell you – and only when his fingers clamp down on the waistband of your shorts – he has half a mind to punish you for walking around in these things, making his sanity unwind in the hallways of this fucking place, until the only truly sane thing to do is fuck you and fuck you good – the thought is so strong, almost violent he pauses. 

He looks up to the devastation he’s left in his wake – bright, purple spots on the inside of your breasts, under your ribs, the small swell of your stomach, your chest heaving – and he watches your face. You realize he’s stopped moving, slowed in his volcanic thunderous roll down to the clutch of your cunt, and you meet his gaze. You swallow, mouth too dry to form words, so you splat a hand on his shoulder. 

"No robe. I’m not – not going to let you f-fuck me in a bathrobe.” 

He grins. Of course, you would sass him after a make out session so intense he doesn’t even care if he comes in his pants. But he obliges, pretty much willing to cut off a finger if you continue to purr at him like you are. 

“Excuse you, this is lounge wear.” He leans back onto his knees and shrugs himself out of the green robe. Your eyes flash to the triangle on his forearm and he’d be fucked to admit he didn’t get it entirely for the look in your eyes right now. Chicks always dug the tattoos. Your tits bounce as your breathing hitches. 

Not Daddy’s girl, his smoke-heavy, lust-soaked brain chants at him, not Daddy’s girl. 

God, he’s so hard it hurts. 

He goes back down, dropping himself between your legs, arms tucked up under the backs of your thighs. He mouths the inside of your thigh – a distraction as his hand, like some sort of fucked up, horny magician performs a slight-of-hand, “iiiis this your clit?” – rubs you over your shorts. You are soaking wet and he’s fighting the urge to just dig in there, suckle you through the wet spot. He hadn’t actually made someone come that way before, but now seemed like an excellent opportunity to try. 

“You know, for someone who has to couch-surf, you talk a lot.” 

He noses the rim of the bottom of your shorts, allowing a full gaze down to your ass. 

“Sorry if I’m sick of fucking boys who look like their mom dressed them.” You are breathless, shaky, unwinding at the seams and you know exactly what to say to dig right into him. 

He bites the soft place at the back of your thigh and you groan. 

“I thought you couldn’t remember any of them before me,” he purrs, watching that damp spot grow darker the longer he talks, the longer he holds off on touching you where you and him and the entire fucking world knows you need to be touched. 

Maybe you ran your mouth too, when you were nervous, overwhelmed. Maybe you laughed too loud when you didn’t know what else to do, and maybe you gave him shit because the second words stopped coming out of your mouth, you’d have to sink into whatever he was giving you. You’d have to kneel to the white lighting between your legs. Maybe you were afraid there wouldn’t be white lightning at all. 

Families share similar insecurities, after all. 

He waits until you open your mouth again before hooking his fingers under the band of your shorts. 

“Hmm, there’s actually a fairly long list of guys before you. Guys who–,” 

He sucks the skin just an inch to the right of your hip bone, just before the patch of curly hair, he sucks it into his mouth and bites so gently he knows that your brain nearly splits in half from the hairline fracture between pleasure and pain. 

You gasp and you’re already arching off the bed. He breathes across those coarse, damp curls and inhales. 

Girlsex. 

Girlsweat. 

It’s like there’s acid corroding his brain, eating away at the clamps holding his sanity together and he’s gonna go fucking ballistic if the acid doesn’t get to him first. But he wants the burn. He wants the chemical smell. 

He wants . . . to put his dick into something. 

But first – 

You’re pliable. Easy to move as he scoops your shorts off your ass – Oh, fucking Christ, there’s her entire backside, isn’t there? – over your thighs and he hurls the shorts over his shoulder. He inhales–

God, this pussy is going to kill me, he thinks or maybe says out loud before he tips forward into that black, fluttering hole. When he licks you, you both moan. 

He remembers specifically doing planks for as long as he could to build up the upper body strength to languish here for hours.

Well, at the time, here wasn’t here here, but if everything before this was practice, then he was ready for the Olympics, dick as hard as a goddamn gold medal. 

He swipes up with his tongue, licking and sucking and swirling like frosting was going out of style. Frosting, that’s it. That’s what you reminded him of. Fat, sweating, sweet frosting. And there was the cherry on top. 

He guides your clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into the tops of your thighs as if to pull himself deeper into the wettest goddamn pool at the fucking YMCA. He sucks once and your hands fly into his hair. You’re making sounds that somewhat resemble his name, but they’re too high, too pitchy, too airless to be anything coherent. 

He wants to tease you about all the boys you mentioned. Wants you to go back on your word, beg for him to believe that there was no one else before him. If there was, it didn’t matter because this is it. This is the best you’d ever have. 

Even when you left him, you’d never forget – 

Disgustingly, he slurps up one lip of yours into his mouth and you cry out, fingernails digging into his scalp so hard that it hurts and sends another rush of blood into his weeping cock. He mouths up before teasing your clit again – around it but never on it – before diving back down and lapping up your other lip. 

“Dieter–,” you garble as if you know it’s filthy. He can hear your breathing tighten in your chest, feel your thighs clench around his ears, and he swears if he gets out of this with hair in tact, that’s the most he’s going to ask for –

And he french-kisses your clit.

You come, gasping, writhing, back arching off the mattress and he bares his forearm across your stomach, reaching up to pinch your nipple. 

Settle down. We’re only just getting started. 

He’s got to control himself but staring up at you, your face flushed with pleasure, he can’t quite remember what he’s supposed to do next. 

You are naked underneath him. Naked and heaving and he licks the dampness staining his mattress just to have your taste in his mouth again. This is going to be a problem, if he can’t think straight without his mouth on you. 

Oh my God, duh, fingers. 

He pulls himself up the length of your body, and his hands sink into your hair. His fingers curl around your ear as he makes you look at him.

“How are you feeling?” It’s an echo of what he asked earlier. You’re still warm but your breathing has slowed. Your eyes are open, even if they’re fighting to stay open as if you are concussed. 

“Good. Great.” You mutter, hand falling to his chest and tangling with his shirt. 

“You wanna keep going?”

Your eyes open wider as if someone rang a dinner bell and you’d been walking on hands and knees, starving for weeks. You swallow thickly, nodding frantically, and the hand leaves his chest, winding down between you and, before he can stop you, slides under the material of his sweats and strokes him. 

Your hands are like velvet.

Fuck, then what’s your cunt gonna feel like– 

Do not fucking come right now. 

“Oh, I see,” you huff, a smirk curling your mouth up, as if you had won some unnamed battle. You roll your shoulder to go aaall the way down his cock and stroke him. You think about licking your hand, but the precum leaking out of the tip of his head at a truly flattering rate is enough lubricant to keep your hand from sticking. “I can’t walk around without a bra on, but you can walk around in these thin fucking sweatpants and no underwear.”

He grits his teeth, dropping his head to his chest, trying to breath through the freightcar rattling down his spine.

“It’s my house, you little cocktease,” he pants, gasping as you run your thumb against the vein underneath his shaft. You pump him again and again and he groans low, with his eyes shut to keep them from rolling back in his head. “I can– yeah, right there – do whatever I want. Move your hand. I want to stick my fingers in you.” 

His words aren’t so crass they make your ears red, but it’s the unrestrained need in his voice. You slowly withdraw your hands and you go wipe the threads of him on the mattress as he sits up to take his shirt off. 

“Don’t. Just– gimme a second.” 

He yanks the tank shirt over his head, setting down in between your legs again and blinking like he’d forgotten where he was. He takes your hand, licks your palm as clean as something as dirty as this could ever get, and then penetrates your hole with his middle finger. His tongue slides in the crevice between your ring finger and your pinkie and when he adds a second finger below, you both can feel the moment your brain is wiped blank and your body twitches along with it. 

“Mhmm, good.” He pulls you down closer to him, fingers plucking your strings like the finest guitar. Your knees are spread wider than when he had half his body down there. He’s watching you practically drown his hand in the wetness seeping out, his other hand holding or balancing your knee. 

He hovers above you, watching you roll and writhe and beg. His forearm is strained, his hand must be soaking, and he thinks your face contorted in pleasure might be permanently burned into his brain. There is still some part of him that knows that’s wrong. He shouldn’t have the faintest idea of what you looked like, high and blissed out of your mind, while his fingers stroke and dig and pluck and rub to drag you higher and higher – 

The pad of his middle finger brushes something spongy and you nearly slam your legs shut over his arm, if it weren’t for his free hand pinning you open. 

“Dee,” you croak, head shaking, “that was – you can’t–,”

His eyes flutter at the sound of your voice so wrecked. He needs to memorize that exact spot, save it for when you don’t have enough sanity left to push back. It’s scary, he knows, but you must be out of your goddamn mind if you thought he was going to let anything bad happen to you. 

“Look at my thumb. Baby, look down.” 

You wrench your eyes open, past your quivering chest, down his long forearm, down to where the black bullseye on the meat of the space between his thumb and palm is winking at you. 

He’s stroking you with his thumb on your clit and the bullseye winking up at you. It’s eye-fucking you and that’s enough to break you. He wants to drink whatever drips out of you as your body locks up, head thrown back, and you come. You break through and his hand curls around your knee, gently, as he watches your body crescendo for the second time that night. He sucks his fingers, almost pensively, as if he is going to carve something out of you. Remake you. Split apart your atoms and rebuild you whole. Sex as an act of re-creation. 

He kneels his way out of his pants, cock pounding red, leaking, the hot center of where his want for you is infecting him like a sickness. 

Slowly, he drags one of your knees over his shoulder, half of your body hovering just above the mattress. 

He wants to ask if you need it rough or slow. He can’t be gentle right now but he does have enough awareness to keep from hurting you. But maybe you, like him, like a little bit of pain. 

He wants you on top, wants to see you sing for him, but he knows your legs are jelly. He knows there’s a white static hum in your brain and he’s so grateful for the pleasure of it. 

He rubs the top of your thigh and noses the back of your ankle up by his ear. 

“Do you want me to put a condom on?” he asks quietly, before kissing that spot below your ankle.

“Are you clean?” He’s so fucking broad and his rings pinch your skin when he pushes too hard and he’s asking for your comfort. You also want to feel every inch of his cock and you beg him to say yes. 

He nods, suddenly irrationally thankful of Paul’s monthly mandated screenings. You get the clap once, and your fucking manager never lets you forget it. 

You huff, realizing you’re so close your cunt can almost taste it. “I-I’m on the pill. A-a-and I’m clean too.” 

As if he had ever denied you anything, as if his willpower hadn’t barely lasted four hours, you tense at the anticipation of his cock. 

He’s just as warm, just as ready, so he grabs your other ankle and draws it next to your other one against the back of his neck. He sinks back just a bit on his ankles, fingers spreading you and grabbing himself and then–

It’s like getting the wind knocked out of you and getting sprayed with a hose of fire all at once. 

“JesusfuckingChrist, you’re tight.” 

He edges deeper as he sits up right, going slow not because he hadn’t unwound you properly but because if he went any faster, he’d obsess over the idea of getting rug burns on his dick. 

“Dieter, oh God–,”

Hands leaving your ankles to wrap around your thighs, he rocks his hips back and drags out his cock just as much as the both of you can handle before thrusting forward. Again.

Again. He can’t seem to fill you enough. He wants to be bigger, thicker, girthier, if only to plug you up more. 

But, fuck, your cunt is better than your hands but only because it’s so warm and wet and throbbing and he swears his heartbeat is in his ears. 

He thrusts almost lazily, dipping his head to kiss your shin before dropping it back, your toes brushing his hair. His hands greedily squeeze your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles. 

It’s like he has to recover from the shock and sensation of fucking you. It’s too good. It’s too much. 

He’s inside of you.

If there’s a relief fund for grilled cheese, he’s going to have to donate every red cent he’s ever owned. 

Your hands clench the sheets, mouth open and, yes, beautiful tits bouncing with every thrust. It’s not them hovering above him, begging to be bitten, but it’s close and he smooths his hand down from your thigh over his chest, down your hip and he kneads your breast. 

“Oh, fuck, Dee, fuck . . . you feel so fucking good.” 

I want to die in this cunt. 

“So good, baby.” 

It’s back, that pressure that connects the backs of his eyes, to the back of his gut, all the way to his pussy-soaked cock. This time he lets it build, lets it dangle out of reach, and his thrusts become faster, hurried. You jerk beneath him and let out a full whine as if he had spanked you. 

He fucks you some more this way, just to feel that tightening in his gut, before he pulls your legs off his shoulders and you whine again, this time out of annoyance. 

He has the where-with-all to smirk.

“What, baby doesn’t like it when I take away her toys?” He pants, almost feeling light-headed. You scowl at him but don’t push back in the least as he turns you onto your hands and knees. 

“It was just starting to feel good, you a-ahh–ss–,”

He jerks his hips into you without warning, fully seating you on his cock and your head drops between your shoulders. 

“If you weren’t such a brat, you’d be kind of cute,” he murmurs as he rubs his thumb over the knots in your spine, the sensation of your cunt sucking him in almost detaching him from this plane of existence. He knows you like to be teased, with his words, with his fingers, his mouth. He wants to give you everything – anything – he’s so pussy-obsessed he can feel it like ozone in his mouth.

He never wants to stop fucking you. He’s being unstable about it. 

“You like that I’m a brat,” you say and push back with your hips. The sensation does make him stutter and you take it as a win. His rings sting as they squeeze your hips. 

He’s sliding down that pressure, winding himself up so tightly in it he wants to stop breathing – 

He starts pumping faster. The sounds that echo in that room are like music to his ears.

The sheets ruffling as your hands clench around them. The jolt of the bed as it lurches back and forth.

Your moans as he fucks every thought out of your head. “Fuck, you’re so big. It’s not fair.” 

The wet slap of his thighs meeting yours. 

And it all narrows down, the universe closing to a single focal point–  all of it runs right to his cock rubbing up inside your cunt like it owns the place.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groan, head down. “Please – please fuck me harder, Uncle Dieter.” 

With a growl that surprised even him, he drops forward, one hand anchoring himself to your hip and the other coming up around your throat. You gasp as his fingers dig painfully into your skin. He pulls you both up right, nose in your ear and teeth tight in his jaw. 

He punctuates every word with a particularly brutal thrust that gnaws at something truly devastating inside you. 

“Don’t – fucking – call me that – while – I’m inside – you–,”

You turn your head, flush with his and the hand that’s on your throat slides up to your cheek and he holds you there, pins you there as his cock pounds the daylights out of you. 

“Say my name.” He husks. There’s something cataclysmic happening inside your cunt and he has the launch codes. 

You can’t remember feeling so full before. So up your eyes and your mouth and your ears and your heart – God, maybe there really hadn’t been anyone before him. 

“Oh, fuck, Dieter,”

“No, honey, my real name.” 

Your eyes flicker open and something in his chest roars. He’ll kiss you after this. He’ll kiss you so hard you end up on another fucking planet. 

“David.” 

The sweat on his temples mixes with yours and he wants to smear himself in your fluids. This close, his beard and mustache rub roughly against your skin and you wonder how long the burn will last after all this. You’re clenching his arm, clenching his lower back to you, you think you’ll make him bleed in half-moon cuts of blood. 

“All of it. All of it, baby girl,” he whispers to your cheek, your jaw. “Say it. I need to hear it. I need to hear it from you.” 

Your fucked-out mind spins, clutching at the memories of the past, to a name you hadn’t heard in a decade, while the man you’ve known all your life threatens to undo your sanity. You lock eyes with him, the precipice of something so large and looming, you can’t wait to be crushed by it.

“Davíd Moralés.” 

And that bastard’s cock intentionally pushes against that spongy spot and you shriek. Honest to God, yell, as you come, with Dieter wrapped up against your back, sweat streaking both of you.

“Get down,” he hisses suddenly and almost throws you off him. You land on your back, your entire body pulsing as one single organism, and he grabs his cock in time to aim it at your chest. 

He comes, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, as he sprays you with white ropes. It’s warm on your tits and you shudder through your aftershocks. You feel like you’re sinking into warmth as he keeps coming, your inner thighs drenched and dripping, and finally, he leans away and collapses on the bed next to you.

There’s ringing in your ears. 

You feel swollen all over, your nerve centers humming and firing and crackling as though someone whapped you over the head with a 500 volt electric baton. You want to keep sinking, keep drifting, keep existing in this warm, non-corporeal form. Everything feels so good here.

You had no idea you, or anyone else for that matter, could come that hard. 

“Holy shit.” 

You can’t help but grin through the short huffs of breath you swallow down in gasps. 

You want to sass him but it feels a bit like spitting in the face of God. “Yeah. Holy shit.” 

He sits up on his elbows, glancing over his side at you, the begrudgingly fantastic cock between his legs as deflated as you are. 

“Are you okay? Fuck, sorry, I got a little crazy there at the end.” 

You shake your fist loosely, with your thumb and pinky finger extended. “I don’t hear customer service calling. In fact, I think the line has been permanently disconnected.” 

You both laugh softly and his eyes roam over your face. This is why he only saw vampy women. It was easier to wake up to something almost over-the-top hot, than this. Than you, with your beautifully flushed cheeks, plump lips, and eyes that searched only for him. 

His gut twisted painfully. Okay, you nutted so hard you’re pretty sure your dick isn’t going to work for a week, now wake up. Wake up and smell the fucking arrest warrant. 

Uncle Dieter. You're his niece. 

What the fuck were you thinking? Where could this possibly go?

Instead of inspecting the small-starting-to-grow painful throbbing in his chest, he sits up and pleasantly inspects the mess you both made all over you. You follow his gaze, smirking as he intentionally smears his cum over your skin with his thumb.

“Oh, and that thing you did at the end, where you made me–,”

“Yeah?” He grinned wickedly, almost begging you to use your words, but you had been so good for him. He’d save that for later. “You liked that?”

“At the risk of sounding desperate, yes. A thousand times yes. But totally unfair and totally cheating.”

He snickers and leans down to your thighs. “Yeah, okay, Ms. I’m Not Wearing a Bra.” 

The smell of you is intoxicating and it’s drenching your thighs, the sheets below you. Maybe he could strip the bed before Maria came – oh, fuck, what if it’s in the mattress?

He hauls those thoughts out of his mind, his dick twitching uncomfortably, as he bends forward and licks the inside of your thigh.

“Oh my God, Dee, you can’t possibly be –,”

“Relax. I’m not. Just wanted to clean you up.”

He licks the drying liquid from your skin – you hiss, so very overstimulated – dragging his tongue up, never breaking eye contact with you as he slinks up your body, shoulders rolling – “Dee, wait, you’re gonna–,” and licks the cum off your chest. His own cum. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s nasty,” you murmur, eyes transfixed on his mouth as he swallows. He chuckles, finally deciding you’ve had enough for one night, and he leans forward and presses his lips on your temple. 

“I’m not ready, but it sounds like you might be.” 

He reaches back to the floor where his shirt was so casually discarded. He gingerly wipes your thighs, your hips, your stomach and chest. There’d be time for a proper wash later, but right now he thinks he’s going to pitch forward into unconsciousness in less than thirty seconds. His limbs are heavy, his eyelids are heavy but he can’t stop smiling.

You grin at him as he tosses the very used shirt back onto the ground and gets up from the bed to disappear into the bathroom. You roll onto your side, after unpeeling the bedsheets like you had done it a thousand times. When he comes back, you rub your face against his pillows and he realizes if he’s going to hoard the sheets, then he’s going to have to do the same to the pillowcase. 

“I’m not gonna wake up and find you mouthing that shirt, am I?” You ask, a smirk already cradling your lips. He huffs at you as he hands you a glass of water. You take it, gratefully, only vaguely aware that he probably did that kind of thing all the time with his other conquests. 

That thought threatens to sour your good mood so you put the glass back onto the bedside table and curl deeper into the sheets. 

He climbs in behind you, and rubs his nose over your shoulder and up into your ear, his hand spread across your hip. 

“Only if I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t mouth your tits.” 

He’s purposefully being sexy, being teasing, but there’s a question there. A request. A quiet ask that for all his thick dick swinging, doesn’t have the cojones to verbalize. 

 You smirk at him and roll back slightly to catch his mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair and squeeze once. 

“Baby, I couldn’t stand up right if I fucking tried.”

He grins, eyes warm. “Wow. Even if you fucking tried?”

God, this is such a bad idea.

“Even if I fuck-in’ tried.” 

But despite all his not-at-all begging, he wakes up alone. 

He wakes up in broad daylight – the storm had passed. Too bright light streams in from between the gray curtains, illuminating the one thing he never wanted to see: your side of the bed empty. 

His heart clenches so fast he thinks he might be sick. There’s real nausea as he stumbles to his feet and pulls his pants on from last night. He’s about to rush down the stairs, frantically flipping over everything in hopes of finding a note, even if it told him to fuck off. 

You’re twenty years older than me, you fucking creep.

Just wait until my dad hears about this. 

I never want to see you again. 

Just as his mouth dries up till his lips crack, he sees something on the other side of the bed that makes him freeze in his tracks. It’s your phone, plugged into the wall. He goes over and taps the screen. The battery has only 15%. 

And then a post-storm breeze rattles the patio door handle and it opens slightly. He sees your barefoot through the cut in the door frame. 

Holy fuck, you’re still here, just outside. 

Heart now jettisoning into his throat, he opens the door to a truly spectacular morning. His patio looks down to the freshly-washed Los Angeles, the sky a cobalt blue, the air cool and faintly smelling of rain. People run and lead their dogs through the streets and for a minute he thinks he can hear the ocean. 

But what makes it truly spectacular is you. Curled up at the small table in one of his white shirts and those sanctimonious shorts. You’ve got a cup of coffee in your hand and you’ve got his favorite book, Eco’s The Name of the Rose, lying flat beneath your fingertips. But you aren’t reading. You’re looking at him.

“Well, hi there. Did you dream you missed a flight?”

He blinks. “What?” 

“You just, sort of, rushed out here, looking like you forgot something.” You frown. “Is everything okay?”

He swallows and it’s all he can do to keep from dropping to his knees and pressing his face into your lap. 

“Yeah, fine, fine. All good. Fine.” 

You turn back to the book, staring at it as if it was giving you a pep talk. Then you shut it and turn back to him.

“So, um, last night . . .” 

Here it comes. I regret it, all of it. You drugged me and took advantage of me. I can’t believe that you would–

“Was great.” 

He swears he hears his blood rushing in his ears. You smile at him, but clearly uneasy. As if you are the one second-guessing it all. 

Fuck, Bravo, put on your big boy pants.

He pulls out the other patio chair and sits down next to you. He clasps his hands, leaning forward on his elbows. His rings clink together. He nods, trying to catch your eyes.

“Yeah. It was fucking fantastic. I mean it. One for the books.”

He waits for you to say but. 

You wait for him to say but.

Neither of you do. You grin and put your coffee on the table. 

“So, in the events of last night . . . surprisingly, I forgot to charge my phone.”

He doesn’t want to touch you because he thinks it might spook you so he runs his gaze over your lovely knuckles, your wrist. 

“Sounds like, then, you might need to stay awhile.” 

You swallow, unable to contain the growing smile on your face. You duck your head and he follows you and your breath fans his face. 

“Guess so.” 

If he tells it, he says he kissed you.

If you tell it, you say you kissed him. 

Doesn’t matter though. Doesn’t matter that the coffee grows cold and he ignites something in you that you didn’t know existed.

When he finally pulls away, he’s still smiling. 

“This might be a bit weird, but . . . wanna see my other kitchen?”

The End

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,066

A/N: Shoutout to my hubby for helping my break through my writer's block on this chapter 🥰

“Who was that?” Benny asks despite likely knowing the answer. When you’re born and raised somewhere, it’s pretty easy to spot someone out of place. And for Dean to approach an apparent stranger pointed to one person.

“That’s the woman staying in my guest house for the next month.” Dean confirms as he retakes his seat, starting to pick up a fry but throwing back onto his plate as he thinks about your smug smile as you ate your fries in his face. 

Benny looks over Dean to where you’re seated at the counter, now enjoying a sandwich as your legs swing underneath you, too short for the stool you’re sitting on. Benny had watched the whole interaction, and when you had turned to Dean a few times, Benny got a good look at your profile.

“She’s cute” Benny notes as he takes a bite of his own meal, washing it down with a gulp of coffee and a grin. 

“Don’t even start, Ben.” Dean shoots him a pointed look. Dean had eyes, it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed that himself, but he was too annoyed to care. “If you think she’s so cute, why don’t you have a go at her?” Dean jabs as he picks up his burger and takes a wide bite, sauce splashing on his cheek. 

Benny just chuckles and shakes his head.

“I got enough women in my life.” Between his ex and his daughter, his hands were full. “And I’m not looking to get washed up in your mess.” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Fucking Lisa,” he grumbles before taking another bite. Couldn’t even enjoy his lunch break. It’s like Lisa knew exactly what to do to get under his skin. Which isn’t a surprise.

Back when they were happy, Dean and Lisa knew everything about each other; what they each liked, what they loved, what drove them crazy. It’s why Dean would bring home white chocolate and flowers after Lisa had a rough day at work, or why Lisa would bake a variety of pies in the early days after Dean’s father, John, had passed away, knowing Dean didn’t want to talk about it but it was a way to offer him comfort without being too touchy feely, because Dean hated that when he was younger.  

But now, Lisa was weaponizing the information she had, knowing Dean liked his routines and his personal space. She had thoroughly invaded them without even stepping foot in town. Instead she sent this woman, Y/N, to do her dirty work for her. 

He drops his burger with a sigh and glances over his shoulder; you’re scrolling through your phone as you take another bite of your sandwich. 

He briefly wonders if you’re texting Lisa, the two of you laughing about how now that you’ve taken over his guest house, you’ve also wormed your way into his lunch spot. But Dean knows better. He knows he’s been the aggressor in his run-ins with you. You’re either a great actress or truly were just an innocent pawn in Lisa’s slimy scheme, and Dean’s pretty sure it’s the latter. 

It makes him think back to this morning, how you mentioned you were out of work and couldn’t afford to go anywhere else, even if Dean refunded your stay. You’re likely going through some sort of shit if you’re willing to use whatever money you have to get away for a full month. 

He sighs through his nose. You had offered a fresh start, and he had brushed past you like an absolute asshole. 

He likes to think he wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time he would have happily shook your hand, giving you a big grin in the process hoping to maybe get to know you better, find out what you like to drink and buy you one and then see what would happen next. 

But that was youthful innocence then, back when Dean didn’t realize that when you gave your full self to someone, it gave them the power to use it against you one day.

He’s about to consider going back over to you and apologizing, taking you up on your offer, but Billie steps in his path, dropping off a check and a box for his unfinished burger. 

Dean blinks hard out of his thoughts and gives Billie a big smile before reaching into his wallet and dropping enough money to cover his meal and tip, adding it on top of Benny’s own pile. 

“See you boys again soon.” She gives them a wink before they gather their coats, Benny affixing his cap before zipping up his jacket. 

Benny lets Dean lead the way, Dean’s eyes glued to your back as he passes by before he steps back out into the wintery overcast and heads back towards the garage.

After you finished lunch, you continued your stroll down Main Street, restraining yourself to just window shopping during your inaugural visit. You would have four weeks to shop, and you didn’t wait to explore everything the town had to offer on the first day. But now you had a good idea of all the places you would be spending your days for the next month; BILLIES was the only restaurant on main, but there was also a coffee shop, and bar that opened at 2pm. There was a vinyl shop, a bookstore, a few thrift and antique shops, as well as a modern apothecary and a fifties-looking pharmacy. Overall, the town was charming. It’s one of those places that if you were to leave the city, you could envision yourself living here. There was just enough to do to keep you busy and it felt nice to be away from the constant noise and hustle that typically filled your days. You were looking forward to decompressing and maybe even getting to know some of the non-Dean locals while you were here. 

Once your in-town exploration was complete, you headed to the nearest grocery store, only five minutes off Main Street. You loaded up on food for the week, toiletries, some basic cleaning supplies to use during your stay, and a few magazines to keep you busy. You also stopped off at the liquor store to grab another bottle of wine as well as a bottle of whiskey for nights you wanted something a little stronger. 

You were settled in the living room, dusk overshadowing the forest around you, when you hear the rumble of an engine. You peek through the floor to ceiling window, catching headlights flick off as you hear a door slam. 

Honey, I’m home. You smirk to yourself, thinking about a grumpy Dean stomping up the stairs of the front porch. 

You meant what you said about a fresh start, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him to yourself. Afterall, he was an asshole, and you didn’t owe him anything at the end of the day. You had gone out of your way to be nice to him and offer an olive branch, and he shoved it back in your face. 

Your phone vibrates next to you, and you smile as you see your best friend’s face pop up on the screen. 

“Helllooooo.” You answer, your smile growing when you hear her voice.

“Hi!” Sydney chirps. “How’s the getaway?” You snort through your nose. 

“Not exactly what I was picturing.” You glance over your shoulder, back to the now-dark driveway. 

“Let me guess, the pictures of the cabin are super outdated and it actually sucks.” Sydney speculates.

“I wish.” You roll your eyes and turn back to the muted tv. “Turns out the woman who rented me this place doesn’t even live here anymore.”

“Soooo, you got scammed?” 

“Not entirely.” You sigh. “Her husband still lives here – ex husband.” You correct yourself, Dean’s voice ringing in your ears.

“I’m still confused?” You chuckle, picturing Syd’s scrunched face. 

“So was I. Turns out the renters are going through quite the bitter divorce. The husband still lives in the main house but sounds like she left. I guess she rented this place out as a way to piss him off or something. That’s why it was so cheap.”

“Shit,” Sydney hisses and you raise your brows, even though she can’t see you.

“Yeah, shit. The guy almost gave me a heart attack my first night. Came storming in with a gun while I was in the hot tub, thought I was trespassing.” 

“HE PULLED A GUN ON YOU?” Sydney screeches and you have to move the phone away from your ear.

“He didn’t point it at me or anything, he just had it.” You clarify, knowing that Sydney is about to spiral into worst-case what-ifs. 

“Still.” 

“Regardless, he hasn’t pulled it out since. But he has been a massive dick.” You recount your run-ins with Dean so far. 

“No wonder she left him, sounds like an asshole.” Sydney chimes in after you finish telling her about lunch.

“Yeah, but I don’t think she’s much better. I reached out to get a refund for my stay so I could get out of here and she’s refusing. And also, who does something like this?”

“A bitch and a dick, sound like a perfect match.” Syd quips and you laugh. This is why you loved Sydney. The two of you always kept each other laughing, no matter the situation. 

After another twenty minutes, you and Syd say goodbye and you settle in for the night.

Before you know it, your first week is coming to an end. You’ve thoroughly enjoyed sleeping in every day, grabbing coffee in town before deciding which shop to hit. So far you’ve spent most of your time in the bookstore, getting to know the owners, Carrie and Richard Owens. The two have been married over forty years, and this bookshop was their post-retirement dream after working in the city most of their lives. They had been here for almost ten years now and loved every single moment of it, though they missed their children who still lived in the city. Seeing them happy and living their dreams, even in their sixties, gave you hope. There were definitely nights you couldn’t sleep, wondering what you had done and thinking about what you were going to do. Your doubts outweighed your hope at times, but chatting with the Owens left you with a sense of calm and a new book recommendation with each visit. 

Now it was Sunday evening. You had cooked dinner and were trying to focus on the local evening news, but you felt antsy. You hadn’t accounted for just how lonely you would be. You would talk to your mom and Syd most days, either calling them or texting during the times they were busy with their lives, but when you found yourself “home,” there was only so much tv and books to keep you company. 

You pop yourself off the couch and head to the bedroom, trading your sweats for jeans and throwing on your cutest top. You hadn’t yet visited the local bar, Max’s on Main, and figured it could be the perfect cure to your boredom. You could enjoy a drink or two while being around actual people. And hey, you were single, maybe someone would catch your eye and you could live out a whirlwind vacation romance. 

When you get downtown, the street parking is completely full, so you take a few spins down the side streets until you finally find a spot, about three blocks down from the bar. Apparently Sunday evening was popping. 

As you step into the bar, you’re surprised at just how busy it is, but then you notice a hockey game on a few of the screens and patrons wearing matching white and blue jerseys. 

As your eyes roam the room, you notice a few spots at the bar, which was exactly what you wanted. This wasn’t the first time you were going to a bar when you were lonely. If nothing else, usually the bartenders were friendly enough to chat with you here and there and take an edge off the isolation. 

You settle on your stool, unfurling your scarf and zipping off your jacket, letting it rest against the chairback. 

A man about your age throws a coaster down in front of you and places his hands on the bar.

“What can I getcha?” He asks as the crowd roars. You peek at one of the screens behind the bar, seeing a team celebrating. 

“Any chance you have hot toddies?” The weekend had been freezing, and it was too cold for your usual cocktail. You needed something that would warm you, ideally with a splash of bourbon. 

“Sure thing.” He nods and steps away to turn on an eclectic kettle. 

You rest against the bartop, a dark wood that runs down the length of the bar. As you look around, you notice the layout is very similar to BILLIES, but flipped. There’s more high top tables, but the booths back along the opposite side of the room. But whereas BILLIES was more updated, this bar looked like it hadn’t been decorated or remodeled in a good fifteen-plus years. 

Most of the patrons are men of various ages, almost all of whom are watching the game. There is one table full of women, but they too don the same hockey jerseys and are just as invested as their peers. 

“Start a tab?” The bartender returns with your drink, placing it carefully atop your coaster. You reach into your wallet, pull out your card, and hand it to the bartender. You’re not expecting to have more than two drinks since you’re driving, but it was just easier to start a tab versus get a bill for each order.  

After the bartender walks away, you wrap your hands around the crystal, humming at the warmth as your shoulders drop. You take in a deep breath, closing your eyes as the sweet aroma of honey and bourbon steams your senses. 

“Good drink?” You open your eyes to find a man smiling down at you, and you feel the warmth of your drink spread to your cheeks. He takes the seat next to you, his smile never fading underneath his five-o-clock shadow and a swoosh of blonde hair.

“If it tastes as good as it smells, then I hope so.” You return his grin. 

“I’m Nick,” he puts his beer on the counter and raises his hand towards you. You take it, his skin a cool contrast to yours.

“Y/N.” You offer.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” His eyes almost have a twinkle under the bar lights, and his never-fading smile highlights his sharp jawline. 

“It’s my first time here.” You relax into your seat. “I’m visiting for the month.” 

“Family?” He takes a sip of his beer, and you match his movements with your drink, feeling the bourbon settle soundly in your stomach. 

“Renting. I’m from the city, taking a sabbatical.” You keep it vague. No need to spill your life story to a complete stranger in the first minute of meeting him. 

“How’s your visit so far?”

Dean pours the last of the beer into his cup, emptying the group’s pitcher. He takes a big gulp, putting back about half the pint before he stands. 

“Gonna grab another round. Anyone need anything?” Dean offers the enthralled group as he stands from the table. It wasn’t that he didn’t like hockey, but despite growing up here, the Rangers weren’t his team of choice. He grew up watching the Blues with his dad, and continues to cheer for them to this day, so he doesn’t mind stepping out during a power play to grab another drink. It likely meant there would be no wait at the bar. 

He grabs the empty pitcher and carries it with him, resting along the curve of the bar as he flags down Jacob. 

“Another pitcher?” Jacob assumes, and Dean hands over the empty container.

As he waits, he taps his fingers against the wood, taking in the crowd when he notices someone at the end of the bar and his shoulders tense. 

Nick Olszewski.

Dean went to high school with Nick. Grade A douchebag then and grade A douchebag now. He may have even broken Nick’s nose once senior year.  

He’s chatting with someone, definitely a woman.

Poor girl. Dean thinks as Jacob returns with the pitcher, and Dean thanks him. 

Dean heads back to the table, dropping the pitcher right in the middle before, for some reason, he takes a glance back towards Nick. And from this angle, he can see exactly the poor girl he’s talking to. 

Shit. 

It’s Y/N. 

Dean turns away, shaking his head. 

He should stay out of it. He and Y/N hadn’t crossed paths since their lunch run-in a few days ago, and he had planned to keep it that way. 

You’re an adult, and free to chat with whomever you want. Even if he’s a complete dickbag. 

But then he thinks back to a few days ago. How he was a total asshole to you, and he had regretted it. He was better than that. This wasn’t the guy he always was. 

Maybe this was his chance at redemption. 

“You good, brother?” Benny looks up, realizing Dean hasn’t sat back down. 

Dean licks his lips and runs a hand down his face.

“I’ll be right back.”

Nick’s hand relaxes easily on your thigh, and you’re leaning into him, your elbow resting on the bar top. 

He was telling you a work story; he’s a real estate agent in the area, and how a couple decided to get a divorce in the middle of a showing. 

“Wait, so did they actually get divorced, or was it just a heat of the moment thing?” You ask, genuinely curious. 

“Oh big time. I reached out a few weeks later to see if they were still interested in the house and the guy told me.”

“Wow,” you take a big sip of your second drink, courtesy of Nick. 

You’re about to ask him a follow up question but you’re interrupted. 

“Thanks for keeping my seat warm, Nick.” A large hand pats Nick’s shoulder, and you both turn towards your uninvited guest, your eyes widening. “But think it’s time for you to go.” 

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Keep reading

NEXT TIME:

“You’re welcome for saving you.” Dean’s voice has you turning back in your seat. He’s now next to you, literally and figuratively having taken Nick’s spot. 

“Saving me?” You sneer. “More like ruining my night.” You grab your drink and take your own big gulp, needing the bourbon to do more than just warm you now. 

“Tell me, Dean.” You narrow your eyes at him. “What have I done to you that you just think it’s okay to bother me whenever you want?” Your voice quickens as you feel the liquor settle. 

“Because I’ve stayed out of your way, like I promised. I tried to be nice to you. It’s not my fault your ex-wife dragged me into scheme of hers. So if you have a problem, take it up with her!” Your voice raises but is drowned out as the Rangers score another goal, the bar erupting in whoops and cheers as patrons high-five one another. 

Dean runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, nodding his head at your words as you stare him down. 

“I was saving you from the biggest asshole in town.” He responds once the bar settles back down, his voice calm and even. You raise your eyebrows.

“Are you sure about that?” You challenge. From where you were sitting, he seemed to be winning that award himself.

Forever Tags

@iprobablyshipit91  @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28 @krazykelly @roseblue373 @k-slla @stephv213 @kaydallas21

[kis3memore]

Wicked Games

introduction, chapter 1

Summary: Chris is suffering from a nasty addiction and is desperate to find the right person to help him get out of it.

Warnings: slight smut, male receiving, cursing, drug use, alcohol use

WELCOME!! I was scared to post this, but then I was like, you know what? fuck it let’s do it. Anyway, this is my first EVER series on here I’m excited and nervous at the same time!

I hope you all enjoy this introduction!.. ig I’ll call it that.

...

"Watch your teeth," Chris tells the girl who is currently on her knees in front of him, she looks up at him as he grabs a fist full of her hair guiding her head up and down. He throws his head back, "Fuck, there we go, much better,"

He looked back down at the girl as she swirled her tongue around the tip of his penis, making him groan. "Come on, don't tease me," He huffed, turning his head towards the door as he heard shuffling and laughter. He looked back at the girl who was still going to town on him and let his eyes roll to the back of his head, leaning his head back and looked up at the ceiling, feeling dizzy as his vision started to spin and all the laughter from the other side of the door seem far away.

Of course, it was edibles, a joint, and only who knows how many shots he was gone. But to him, he felt amazing, like nothing would feel better than how he felt right now. He loved every minute of his high and wished it would never go away, but it did, and that's when he turned miserable again.

He does take knowledge of his bad addiction, every time he thinks about it he feels about cleaning up and staying sober, but he always ends up not taking his own advice. What's terrible is that he blames people for his addiction, "nobody cares to even help me sober up or even care to encourage me to stop," He felt alone in this world and is in desperate need of someone to save him, he doesn't care who he just wants that somebody to care about him.

His high was ruined when the girl on her knees in front of him decided to scrape her teeth on him once again, he winced looking down at her, "Yeah, you're done here," He pushed her off of him earning a confused look from her. He picked up his pants, buttoning them back up, "Go bite someone else's dick," He hated when his high was ruined, it put him in a bad mood, but that didn't stop him from getting high again.

He walked out of the room, leaving the girl shocked, probably still on her knees. He didn't care.

"Smoke some, drink some pop one"

The song blasts through the house, which holds a party every year school starts. The house belongs to one of the popular hockey players, who invites Chris to every party he hosts. This is the time and place where Chris can easily let loose. He makes his way back to the corner where he always goes with his best buddy, Nate.

"Oh wow, that was quick," Chris laughed, eyeing the joint that was held in between Nate's fingers, "Give me that," He pointed to it. Nate shook his head, moving it away from him, "Nah, you stole my first one. You ain't taking this one," Chris's face dropped, "I almost got my dick eaten off, and you're seriously doing this to me?" Nate's eyes widened as he heard what Chris told him, but then he laughed, shaking his head.

"This is legit the second time you almost went dickless," Nate said to him. Chris looked away from him, watching people walk in and out of the house, "Just give me that damn blunt," He heard Nate scoff, taking another hit before passing it to Chris, who gladly took it from his hand, "Thats what I thought," Taking a hit immediately, Nate shakes his head eyeing him as he does so. The look he gives Chris is mixed with concern and disgust, He's worried about his best friend's health and his addiction, but also disgusted with himself, the guilt he feels washes through him constantly as he is always the one to supply him with stuff and never has the guts to say no.

Chris looked back at the crowd behind him, his eyes landed on someone he couldn't stand, and his face turned sour from even looking at him. Taking one last hit, he passed the blunt back to Nate.

"Life of the party arrived," Chris said, turning his head again towards where "the life of the party" was. Mateo Hansley, on the football team, everyone knows him, but Chris despises him ever since he found out his ex was cheating on him with him. To this day, his ex still tries her all to get him back, and he sometimes finds himself considering it, but Nate pushes him back from it, telling him it's not a good idea, "Oh how cute, I'm surprised his stuck up girlfriend is not with him," Chris looked back at Nate, "Who's that?" He asked him.

"You don't know? Y/n Laurier, snobby little bitch, cheer team," He still didn't have a clue, squinting at Nate, who sighed, looking over at Mateo, "Best friends with the girl you took to the room over there," Chris now had his eyebrows raised, "Damn well, I hope she knows her bestie loves to bite off dicks," Nate laughs at him shaking his head, finishing off the blunt before he gets up from his seat, patting Chris's shoulder, "Lucky you still have yours,"

"Come on mister I'm always feining, I think we need some air and maybe touch some grass while we're at it," Nate said to him as he began to walk through the crowd and towards the door that led to the back yard, Chris rolled his eyes. "I think I'm okay," He muttered, taking the seat where Nate was sitting before he got up. He observed the crowd in front of him, looking at the people dancing, taking shots, smoking, and seeing people making out with one another.

"You look lonely," He sat up straight and looked around, trying to figure out if he actually heard that or if it was just his high messing with him, but no, he found someone actually sitting next to him, A girl he had never seen before, she looked at him with raised eyebrows, he looked back at her with the same expression, he opens his mouth to say something back but she beats him to it, "I'm real, and I'm really sitting next to you" She laughs at him, he does the same rubbing his forehead while shaking his head.

"Um, are you okay?" He snaps back to reality for a bit, looking behind her at the group of girls taking shots together, the girl next to him stays staring at him, waiting for him to speak, Wow this guy is high in the clouds, her mind said. "Oh yeah, I'm perfect! Also, I’m not alone I'm with my friend," He smiled at her answering her question, watching her nod awkwardly, You can just get up and walk away you know.

He wondered why she was still sitting here, getting annoyed a bit. "So, like, the real question is, what are you doing here alone?" he asked her this time. Her eyes traveled all the way down to his shoes, examining him like he were some object. He looked away from her quickly, biting his lip so that he wouldn't curse her out.

"I'm not alone I'm actually with my boyfriend, but who knows where he is right now," She shrugged letting out a breath, he looked at her suspiciously now, "And who's that?" The question came out of his mouth slowly. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "Mateo Hansley," She answered, and he widened his eyes. Speak of the devil, holy shit.

"I need to touch some grass," he mutters before getting up quickly and walking away. She sits there confused, watching him walk out the door leading to the backyard. "Stoner," she shook her head but then shrugged. Standing on her feet now, she continues to search for her boyfriend.

…

oh wow, yall read the whole thing???? was it good at least???

thank you so much for reading the introduction to my first series!! it’s short i know, but the chapters will be long, let me know what you guys think of it so far!

[corruptedcaps]

Bad Blonde: Dora

This is a follow up to Bad Blonde

Lucy had hoped that a good night sleep would have cleared her mind of any further urge to put on the wig but her dreams had made sure to stoke the fire of her desire. Her dreams were filled with images of herself as Lucia. She was feared and loved in equal measure and took what she wanted without care for anyone else. It felt liberating. She was filled with such confidence and power in her dream world that when she woke the next morning she felt incredibly deflated.

At breakfast she stared intensely at the fridge freezer knowing what was hidden behind the door. She could almost hear the voice of the wig call out to her, tempting her to open it, rip open the garbage bag and shove the wig on her head. She found herself wet at the mere thought of it as she sat eating her breakfast. She felt on edge and wasn’t sure she could last. She hadn’t even noticed Dora walk in.

“Hey babe, you look like a wreck.” Dora said bluntly. Lucy knew her girlfriend meant it out of worry but the comment made her snap.

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?” Lucy hissed at Dora who seemed taken aback by sudden vitriol.

“I-I just mean you look like you had a bad night sleep is all.” Dora said sheepishly backing away slightly.

“Well I did if you must know but keep your comments to yourself.” Lucy said filling with rage by the second.

“Lucy what’s gotten into you? First it was that nasty comment yesterday then I get home and you didn’t get the food you said you would and now you’re acting like a b-i-t-c-h.” Dora said finding some courage but almost instantly regretting it when she saw the fire in Lucy’s eyes.

Lucy was livid staring at Dora. How dare she be so insolent! Who did she think she was speaking to? Lucy was a goddess compared to Dora.

That’s when it hit Lucy. She wanted the power over Dora, she wanted to be her bully more than she wanted to be her girlfriend. The wig had given her a taste of being a bad bitch and now she was addicted. She needed to get out of the house and away from the wig before she became the monster she was desperate to be.

“Just stay the fuck away from me.” Lucy said pushing past Dora and heading outside away from the temptation. Of course Lucy meant what she said to Dora as a way of protecting her but Dora stood in the kitchen, eyes filling with water, not knowing what she has done to so upset her girlfriend.

Unfortunately at times like this Dora turned to something sweet to make herself feel better. Opening the freezer to take out her favourite container of ice cream she was instead faced with a black garbage bag. Pulling it out she was surprised at how light it was. Out of curiosity she ripped open the bag to find out what was inside.

“What the heck?” Dora said finding the bright blonde wig inside. She recognized it immediately as the wig from the store and thought Lucy must have bought it but why was it in the fridge. All her questions seemed to fade away though as soon as she touched the wig. She was instantly enamoured by it and a great desire to wear it arose inside her.

Lifting the wig over her own dull brown hair she gently moved it into place. Within seconds the blonde hair was tightly on her head and for a second she thought about what Lucy had said yesterday about the wig not fitting her head. Maybe she had been right.

“Or maybe she was jealous of how good you would look with me on your head?” The wig cooed inside Dora’s head. Dora was understandably shocked to hear someone else’s voice in her head but still didn’t take off the wig.

“Holy cow, are you real? Am I going mad?” Dora asked into the air.

“Of course I’m real honey and you should be mad. Mad for what Lucy puts you through. For the way she treats you. You deserve more respect, not just from her but from everyone.” The wig said.

Dora had a sudden realization while wearing the wig. This was why Lucy acted so mean yesterday, while she was so on edge today. Even now Dora could feel the wigs tendrils trying to corrupt her. It felt good but Dora knew the wig was bad news. It was trying to turn her against the love of her life and imagined it had tried to do the same to Lucy. A plan formulated in her mind to get the wig out of their lives, she just had to play along…

“Respect? Me? Look at me I’m a flabby nobody.” Dora said rejected.

“That’s true but let’s see if we can’t make you a hot somebody!” The wig said moments before Dora felt her body begin to shift and transform. Her weight instantly rearranged itself around her body giving her a sleek but still curvaceous form with any excess fat going straight to her tits.

“Holy shit! What have you done? I look so…so… so fucking sexy.” Dora said letting the profanity fly. Her mind was still on the plan at hand but she was loving the way her new body looked with the combo of the blonde hair. She didn’t have the same hang up with being blonde as Lucy and in fact admired the gorgeous blonde women who lifted their noses at them on a daily basis. Sure they were mean bitches but they were popular, loved and feared in equal measure.

“Don’t you think you deserve respect now?” The wig asked. To the wigs surprise Dora took a moment to answer.

At her core Dora wanted to be accepted but also wanted to stand out from the crowd. That’s why she loved thrift shopping, she wanted to be noticed even if she was mocked for it. Now however she could be noticed in a more pleasing way. She’d never be mocked like this. Her mind swam with the possibilities but her conscious pushed her forward with her plan.

“I guess but respect comes with some amount of power right? I feel like I would strain to lift a handbag right now.” Dora said stroking her soft but weak arms.

“You’re totally right! What is respect without strength to back it up?” The wig said happy that Dora was suggesting ways to corrupt her further. The next moment Dora felt her whole body tingle as here muscles toned and strengthened. The look of her body remained unchanged but she knew she could now lift a man twice her size with ease. The thought alone made her wet. She lifted up a stone paperweight on her desk and squeezed it. Easily she turned it into dust. She knew if she was to defeat the wig she had only one shot before she gave in to its corruption.

“Mmmm yessss no one will mess with me now! However raw strength can only take me so far. You have real power. You can change my very body with a thought. Power like that would make me unstoppable don’t you think?” Dora said admiring her improved form in the mirror nonchalantly while hoping her plan would work and thankfully for her the wig took the bait.

“Absolutely! Dora you are a joy to work with, you have such naughty ideas. Take my power and become a goddess!” The wig purred and Dora felt her body suddenly levitate off the ground as it became infused with dark magic. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as black electricity came from her head and enveloped her body. Electricity which unexpectedly burned away any remnants of her soul.

She moaned with delight as her mind filled up with dark schemes and the desire to enact them. She had full knowledge now of the wigs capabilities and couldn’t wait to use them. She felt unleashed for the first time, well mostly.

“Doesn’t my power feel delicious running through your veins. You should be honoured, I’ve never let anyone share them before.” The wig said as Dora slowly returned to the floor with a cold look on her face and a more confident stance in her posture.

”Don’t worry you’ll never have to share them with anyone again.” Dora said with a smirk as she ripped the wig off her head. Her body remained the same however except her hair was back to its normal brown colour. Walking over to some candles on her table she picked up the lighter that was beside it and without hesitation lit the wig on fire.

“Now that I have your powers I don’t need you anymore. My plan was to strip you of your abilities so no one could be corrupted by you again and it worked flawlessly but I didn’t expect for the magic to wipe away that pesky soul of mine. What a delightful side effect. As a result it awoke the bitch inside me. It opened Pandora’s box if you will. Mmmm what a hot name, I think I’ll take it.” She spoke to the wig as she slowly watched it disintegrate with pleasure.

As the last hair went up in flames, Pandora smirked knowing she was in charge now. No wig, no Lucy, no anybody, she would never play second fiddle to anyone again.

Walking back to the mirror she looked at her new body with glee but also with plans. What the wig had done was a good start but with its unlimited power she would become every bit the goddess she now felt.

Most were simple improvements on what she already had. She increased her cup size, tanned her skin, grew her nails etc so the most obvious change she made was to turn her hair to the blonde colour of the wig. It might have been residual influence of the wig in her mind but couldn’t see herself as anything other than a blonde now.

“There we go. Perfection. Now to make sure I’m completely unstoppable.” She said taking out her phone and texting Lucy asking her what the strange bag was in the freezer. She knew that would have Lucy scurrying home. In the meantime it would give Pandora some time to test out her ability to shapeshift clothes into something more fitting her demeanour.

Less than 30 minutes later Lucy burst into the apartment calling out for Dora and hearing only a soft ‘here’ come from their bedroom. Pushing the door open Lucy expected the worse and found her fear realized to see a completely transformed Dora sitting before her clad in red velvet, holding a glass of wine, looking every inch the villain.

“Oh god Dora, it got to you too?! You have to take it off before it permanently corrupts you.” Lucy pleaded but Pandora just smiled an eerie smile at her.

“Why? So you can have it to yourself? So you can become Lucia?” Pandora said.

“No of course not I-you, eh it’s just evil is all and it’s no good for you or for me.” Lucy said flustered for being called out.

“Oh dear it had you bad didn’t it? You’re stammering and lying to the love of your life. You would do anything to have that power again wouldn’t you? To become that bitch Lucia again wouldn’t you?” Pandora said getting to her feet and standing imposingly over Lucy.

“No how could you… I mean it was nice but… oh fuck you’re right! I loved being hot and mean and evil! I came rushing back not to protect you but to have the power to myself but I’m too late.” Lucy said dropping her head in failure. Pandora however reached out and lifted her girlfriend’s head so they were staring eye to eye.

“Lucky for you the power the hair had no longer exists in the wig. Mainly because the wig no longer exists so it doesn’t make the rules anymore. I do.” Pandora smirked as she reached behind her head and pulled at her long golden hair producing a large ponytail like clump that didn’t diminish her own hair. In fact it was like she pulled the hair from thin air.

“I’ll give you a choice. Become my second in command and receive a fraction of the power you would have had or remain your unremarkable self. Lucy or Lucia, the choice is yours.” Pandora said holding the hair out for Lucy who waited no time at all the grab the hair and put it on her head.

The hair eagerly latched onto her own hair creating a tight high ponytail and spread outward like a virus turning the brown into blonde. Lucy threw her head back as the corruption rushed from down her body giving her the body she so craved.

Within seconds she had completely transformed into a new woman, she was once again Lucia. This time however the creeping ill will towards Dora that the wig had poisoned her mind with was gone. In fact she positively adored her. She knew that she would do anything for her now. Anything for her Queen.

“Welcome back Lucia. How do you feel?” Pandora said practically proud of her first creation.

“Perfect my mistress. Thank you for deeming me worthy of you power. I am forever in your debt.” Lucia said looking at Pandora with undying loyalty.

“Good. You will help me recruit more girls who desire a status change in their life. I will provide them with ponytails to give them everything they desire turning them into my army of slutails. With them at my disposal, I’ll enough to take control.” Pandora said gathering her bag and preparing to leave.

“Control what mistress?” Lucia said following obediently. Pandora turned around and smiled at her ignorant thrall.

“Why everything of course.” Pandora said followed by a sinister chuckle. The two changed women left their dingy apartment with conquest on their mind.

THE END

[mlmxreader]

Tell Me One Thing | Holland March x gn!reader

anonymous asked: hello hello i hope you’re doing as well as you can :) i was wondering if i could request some holland march x gn!reader with the prompts: “hey, hey, look at me c’mon” and “for what it’s worth, i’m proud of you”. where basically holland’s on a case and someone recognises him as the reader’s boyfriend but they have some very strong opinions about them being together and say kinda nasty things. he gets home before the reader and the latter finds him curled in upon himself like overthinking and stuff and comforts him. thank you! :)

summary: March has a habit of letting certain things get under his skin a bit too much, but thankfully, his partner comforts him when he needs it.

tws: swearing, alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of injury, mentions of alcoholism

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

It seemed like a normal enough day.

Healy was chatting to people in the busy street while Holland waited by the car and smoked; they were just looking for some old lady's lost dog, but money was money, and private investigators like Healy and March couldn't afford to turn down a job.

Holland did think, though, that he might be able to escape to the nearest payphone and call you; Holly was at school - hopefully - by now, which meant that the chances were, you were at home for a little while before your shift started.

He debated it, and when he saw that Healy was still chatting, he made his mind up; his bandaged fingers thumbled with the numbers, but he got there in the end and lit another cigarette.

But as it was ringing, someone knocked on the booth. Figuring that they probably just wanted to use it, he opened the door, and clenched his jaw.

"Can't you fucking see it's in use?"

The stranger looked him up and down for a moment. "Aren't you dating the person that used to live on Foxtrot Street?"

Holland quirked a brow. "Y/N?"

"Yeah," they nodded. "You're the new boyfriend, right?"

Holland shrugged as he scoffed. "The fuck do you wanna know for? Go on, get lost, pal."

The stranger didn't budge, folding their arms across their chest. "Y'know, I think it's absolutely sickening. A nice person like that, with scum like you - it's a surprise they haven't crawled into the bottom of a bottle, as well."

He rolled his eyes, attempting to close the door on them, but they put their hand on the frame. "Just fucking let me make a call."

"Please," they huffed. "Leave them alone. They deserve better than some P.I who drinks too much to even care about his own kid. You're gonna fuck them over, just like you fuck everybody else over. Leave them alone."

They only backed off once Healy approached, and although he wanted to talk about it, Holland couldn't find the energy to do so; he got in the car, hardly spoke but swigged from his flask like there was no tomorrow.

When Healy dropped him off, Holland had only one thing in mind: bed.

He flopped down onto the soft mattress, face buried against the pillows as he closed his eyes; maybe they were right. They did have a point, but he had been working on his drinking. But he was also useless - he fell off of several balconies that day, all on the ground floor at least unlike last time.

Maybe he would fuck you over. He didn't want to, but maybe he would. He spent what felt like eternity laid there, but eventually moved onto his side, cuddling into a pillow as he brought his knees to his chest, staring out at nothing.

He hoped Holly wouldn't be home any time soon, she didn't need to see her father worrying so badly about something that a stranger had said.

But Holly didn't come home first.

Holland knew it wasn't her when he heard the door lock from the inside, a muttering voice listing out all the chores to do throughout the house; familiar footprints slowly approaching along with the scent of his cologne, like the wearer had stolen one of his shirts.

He usually smiled, but not today. He just sighed and cuddled into the pillow even more.

"Hey, baby," you hummed, not thinking much at first as you shrugged your jacket off and hung it up on the corner of the wardrobe. Sweat trickling down your back and clinging to your forehead. "How was your day?"

Holland grumbled. "Why are you still here?"

You furrowed your brows as you turned around, shoving your hands into your pockets. "What do you mean?"

"I'm just gonna fuck you up," he sighed. "I fuck everything up and you… deserve better."

"Oh, Holland," you sighed, squatting down so that your eyes were on the same level as his. "Holland, Holland, Holland… you're not gonna fuck me up. I mean, you do give me really bad fright every time you go out, but that's because I know you - I know you're not exactly great with balconies."

Holland sighed.

But you wouldn't relent. "Hey, hey, look at me, c'mon… atta boy. Listen to me, baby - do you really think I'd leave?"

He shrugged. "You should."

"I'm not going to," you said softly. "No one, and I mean no one, has made me laugh as much as you can. You think I'd give all that up?"

"I make you laugh?"

"Yes," you leaned forward, gently kissing his forehead. "And that means everything to me, you know that… you wanna tell me what happened?"

"Someone approached me while we were working," he said quietly. "Said some pretty shitty things."

"And you let them get under your skin," you hummed, nodding. "Y'know, this is only like the window incident."

Usually, he smiled at the reminder.

When he had been playfully bickering with you at a party and he had thought that a window was shut, only to lean back and fall right through it, landing on a buffet table crowded by people.You laughed the entire way to the hospital, and he had never heard something so wonderful.

But he had allowed one of the doctors comments about you to get under his skin, just as he had now.

"Y'know, for what it's worth, I'm proud of you," you told him. "I really am."

Slowly, Holland dared to sit upright, spreading his legs so that you were between them, looking up at him with your head leaning on his thigh, a small smile on your lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you confirmed, gently pushing him back until his back hit the mattress, straddling his waist. "You gonna let go of the pillow?"

He threw it, and ignored whatever went crashing down with it as he eagerly gripped at your sides. "Better?"

"Much," you nodded. laughing loudly when he moved to pin you onto your back beneath him, your wrists in his hands as he pinned them above your head. "Don't start something that you can't finish, mind, March."

"I can finish it," he murmured. "Just… tell me one thing."

"Anything."

"Tell me you love me."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the AH for refusing to be friends with someone who flat out hated me?

From ages 22-26 I was friends with R 29-33. R had only worked once in her life which was mcdonalds for 3 months to buy anime merchandise her grandma didn't want to buy her. R's grandma is in her late 80's now just for reference. R's granny had married a rich military dude who was on his 3rd marriage or so then died, so she got all his assets which included like 5 houses, 3 were being rented out which is how she'd get her income. So R never worked and just sat at home getting into internet fights. My friend had invited her into our discord and I'd be civil with her despite knowing how shes been with others. I was working full time for shit pay and going to school full time too. R was very, idk how else to say it, but she always demanded our attention. The other people in the server were 5 from ages from 16-22, we never used how much older she was against her, but she really didn't acknowledge or respect alot of us were in school. Many times we'd had to tell her to step back and set boundaries with us. It did result in people leaving the server. So, in summer of 2019 R decided to go to college. She got alot of financial aid and said her goal was to become a therapist cause she was everyone's "mom". That stuff wasn't even remotely true, she was always a total bitch to everyone. R unfortunately didn't understand that going to school means having to put the work in. She was more interested in spending the financial aid on gacha, anime merch, and other stuff. She lost her financial aid after the spring semester of 2020, and refused to talk to her school about the pandemic stress and other shit. During this time, she tried making me do her assignments and I kept saying no or only helped a little. I had my own assignments, school, and I was stressed. Well, when she lost her financial aid due to academic probation, she blamed me. When the pandemic hit my school did this thing where you'd get partially refunded your semester depending on how you did. I was so thankful for that since I barely scraped by to pay for school. R was so fucking nasty about it. I didn't tell my friends that to gloat, I actually said that before she lost her financial aid. She said I didn't deserve it, cause people like her struggled more. Which is fucking weird since I'm a first gen POC and made a few bucks above minimum wage where I live. I didn't even enjoy my time at school cause of the stress and never having money. So she kept harassing me for getting government aid. I wasn't eligible for financial aid! My parents weren't even eligible for food stamps and we always fucking struggled. But I didn't deserve help, who cares if R is a cis white woman in her 30's that only worked once for a few months, she has it harder. Then R left our server when the pandemic started getting nastier, alot of us struggled but we stayed close in the discord. Then one day I reached out to R in late 2021 to say happy birthday and she said "whose this? New phone." I was hurt she didn't keep my number, but whatever. In 2022 she reached out to me for gossip cause I broke up with someone. Then now in 2023 she reached out cause she wants resources to be a vtuber. I'm sorry, she was shitty to me, I've been struggling, and she reaches out for that? Idk even know how I'd be able to help her with that. I told a friend from our old server and she told me how she had been doing R's assignments for school, but stopped cause she was getting stressed cause she had her capstone class that semester. So wow. R basically didn't do shit for school and gets pissy i get some financial relief. I then had another mutual friend tell me how R had told them she sent me a gift and I didn't send her one, one year. Uh? I tried. I ordered something online for her, and the company sold out, but kept my shit on back order. So R got it like a month late, it was a Christmas gift and I explained it to her, sent her screenshot of when i placed the order and sent her an Amazon gift card as an apology. So she bad mouths me for something out of my control?

I've been getting "hey" messages from R lately, and idk. I'm so done with her.

What are these acronyms?

[ziminy]

Nightshift pt. 1

Having them as roommates was a problem

Tags: mdni, college au, f!reader , explicit language, inexperienced reader, size difference, Gojo being the rich fuck that he is, they toy with you the way they want, evil Geto, fingering, thigh fucking, both Geto and Gojo are playboys (cuz I want so) , idk I'll add it later if I missed something

Author's note: bro, I started writing this thinking it would be a small ff. I was giggling and kicking my feet and then I woke up 10k words in and I was like, nahh, gotta make this into a series. So enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it😘

6120 words(I thought there were more)

Masterlist part 2

Gojo Satoru had all kind of connections. He basically knew everyone in the campus at this point, the campus you shared and many others. And who could blame him? People liked him. It wouldn't be surprising if someone goes at him for anything. That's how he wakes up in someone else business most of the time, it all starts with a small favor, and then he finds out its not that small as he thought it would be. And yet he still does it again and again. He's an idiot, isn't he?

Who could blame him. No one was in their right minds anymore these days. But an idiot will always remain an idiot. And so, he woke up helping someone again. A friend you happen to have in common came to him, asking if he knows any place available to stay at. And the idiot went around asking about it, only to find up things about you. Like what kind of person you are, how people viewed you, how you got in the situation of moving out. You were a quiet person, or that's what some people said. Other said how it was so fun to have you around. You were non problematic, or hat's how he liked to see it. You were a peaceful person who just happened to be in an unfortunate situation.

He would usually say no, but he met you in person. You looked tired, and small compared to him, you looked like you bearly got any sleep these days. He lives in a big house, doesn't he? It's not like he needs new people in there, the quietness was enough for him. He also clearly don't need any money from you especially. If you can't afford sleep, would you be able to afford a place to stay in?

And somehow you woke up moving into his house. After a lot of talking about it with him, just making sure you heard what you heard right you finally made a decision. Sure, he doesn't seems bad, so why not accepting.

Everything was so peaceful at first. He said he won't be there most of the times. Him and the unexpected housemate you found there were out almost all day. And when they were back everyone seems to be so careful around each other. No one makes fast moves and it seems that you adapted to that life there rather quick. Everything was like a dream, or that what it seemed like. Until you heard a rather nasty rumor about your so called housemates. Animals in heat, that's how you can call them without saying a bad word.

You can't see it. You just can't see it. Your roommates were two regular guys. Sure, one was ridiculously rich, but he was fine. Maybe a little childish. And the other guy was just so down on earth. That guy was softer than your damn pillow. The way he talks was definitely telling you that the rumors are fake. Defamation. This got to be defamation. I mean, no matter how much you think about it you can't see these guys as some fuckers who are.. Well.. Doing what the name says. Fucks.

But you couldn't help but listen to those false allegations. The nights they weren't home they were supposed to be partying somewhere until they leave with a girl. You never saw anyone bringing anything home. So where were they? Do they like spending times in hotels instead of their own house? And that's when you find out they almost never brings girls home because they go to ladies houses.

Everything you heard was true. It's an unwritten rule that they don't like to see strangers on their beds. So that means they spend the night there? No, they always come back no matter what. Fooling in someone else bed was alright, but staying the night was a no no. All those rumors made you think. What was so special about them? And so, you started to observe them whenever you could. It was like an small experiment in your head, it meant literally nothing more. It made you think about the situation. Were they really not as you see it?

Without even realizing you got out the room at the same time they were at home. When they were in the kitchen, you happen to be there, nothing happened that just a few words exchanged , small talk. However, it was bothering them.

They really don't understand why you're looking like that at them. No, they're actually full aware of the look in your eyes. It's was something they saw so many times, yet it was more. It wasn't just horniness, it wasn't that lust they're so familiar with. It was curiosity. You don't even have to say a word because it was clearly written on your face. Yet they don't want to admit that it was just something innocent. Both of them agreed mentally that you want them. It wasn't sure which one but it was clearly you wanted something from one of them. They were the horny ones. Your eyes studying them so openly, no thoughts behind it, no shame. They were indeed animals in heat, because they just couldn't keep it to themselves. And just like always, they were willing to give you whatever you want. That if you finally say something, do a move yourself. Not just looking and that's it.

"Y/N." you moved your eyes on who ever was calling your name, none other than your landlord. "Did something happened?" to him it seemed like you had something to say but you were to shy to say it. He was more than happy to give you a little push, help you to finally say something.

"Mno..?" he gulped, you looked right into his eyes. The looks you kept giving earlier wasn't helping either. He only heard stuff about how you were shy and you didn't go much out. Your friends don't even remember the last time you went on a date, that if you ever went on a date. "Ohh." you're reaction made both of them move their eyes straight on you. You finally was going to say it? "I apologize." you laughed. "I heard something and I wanted to see it myself." you had a sweet smile on you face, it really didn't look like you were undressing them in your mind. You were curious. And if you have the answers right in front of you, wouldn't you want to know what is actually happening?

"Rumors?" the dark haired guy sat down at the table you were sitting with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Mhhmm." you nodded.

"Are you that interested in what other people say?" you shook your head.

"Not at all." you got up from your chair. "Sorry for making you concerned." and so, you went to your room. You can't figure out what's in their head, and they can't figure what's in yours. There were a lot of rumors about them, most of them being true, but you could never know. You haven't heard anything about your name yet, so maybe people don't even know you live there to begin with. Which is good. The last thing you want is someone disturbing your peace.

What you should have put in calculation was the two demons outside your door. Gojo only let you stay because he was interested in you, the other guy just started to feel a little curious. When they tried to show that they know you're watching, you did nothing more than continue to watch them further. You would look them right in the eyes like you did nothing shameless. And the answer you gave them was so vague that they're now asking for more. It's not like they disliked you there next to them, just looking at them and doing nothing more. It's that it made their imagination go wild.

You bearly went out if it wasn't for school. And up until not so long ago you wouldn't even get out the room when they were home. It was so quiet in there that they forgot about you. That until you got in that kitchen, you're steps were so carefully placed on the floor, the way you would walk around the table and sit at a spot they would have never guessed it was yours in the first place. It became like a routine to see you there in the morning, since that was the time of the day where they would be at home. Oh, but now you stopped. When they're awake you're sleeping safe and sound. Maybe they should have let you do your thing. Of course they would have answered whatever question you might had, but what they don't know is the thoughts you were thinking of. The way you would just smile like you didn't thought about what the hell they were doing when they were out.

You were just curious. And you're happy they finally said something, so that way you could stop looking for whatever you were looking. They're not happy tho. It's been a week since they didn't seen you even breathing around them. Everyone was tired. That's why they started coming home earlier. Which turned into an unfortunate event.

Stressed, everyone was stressed. And you became even stressed when you woke up in the middle of the night hearing noises. Was someone in pain? Did someone needed help? Then you woke up and realizing what is actually happening. The sounds you heard weren't from pain, they were moans, and bed moving. They weren't your moans, they didn't sounded like male moans. It was definitely a woman. You sighed as you went back to sleep, ready to complain about it tomorrow to your housemates.

You were so eager to complain about what happened. The moment you got in the kitchen you sat down next to the dark haired guy. "Suguru, have you heard that last night?" you sighed, yet you were thrilled to continue complaining. "Honestly, can't the neighbors chill?" you wanted to hear him agreeing with you, yet he didn't.

"It wasn't the neighbors." huh? Now you were confused.

"What do you mean?" you both looked at the person who just entered the kitchen. You looked at the guy next to you with big eyes when you realized what actually happened, you stood there bamboozled. He only nodded, like he could read you mind. He knew exactly what you were thinking of. "No way.." a hand was placed over your mouth to show how shocked you were. "I'm sorry! I didn't know!" you exclaimed as you ran from there to your room. So those rumors were true? But you could have never guessed. I mean, weren't they in some kind of mafia or something? Why else would they be out all the times if they weren't working? But didn't people said they don't get girls home? Then was that his girlfriend? What about all those shameful things you thought of? You have to apologize to his girl.

The next morning you got out your room and shyly went into the kitchen. Moving carefully and biting your lower lip, you sat down next to your landlord at the big table that was placed in the kitchen. You looked at him, then at your hands while you kept playing with your fingers. The other guy looked amused. He could only guess why you're acting like that, but he probably knows exactly what you wanted to say. The white haired guy keep moving his eyes from his phone to you. Was this a deja vu? Or perhaps not. This feels like it happened before yet so different at the same time. You looked only at him, you sat next to him, and the other guy seems to find it funny. Clearly, something happened that he's not aware of. He's a little angry now. How can he be left out? Especially when you don't even do much besides coming into the kitchen for a few minutes then run away from there. "Something happened?" this was definitely a deja vu. The same thing, same words, yet it felt so different.

"I'm sorry.." so something did happened? What could be so bad that you got to act like this? You weren't in this situation when you got caught for staring at them shamefully.

"Huh?"

"I know it wasn't my business.. I should have probably shut up.. But please listen to me first." the guy that was sitting not so far from you was laughing his ass off. This was pure gold, comedy in its purest form. He couldn't stop you even if he wanted to. After all, you had to find things out yourself, and he didn't plan to give you any information. "I really didn't know. I wouldn't had said anything if I knew she was your girlfriend." now that was a twist that made even the hyena stop laughing. Now everyone was interested in what happened.

"What do you mean by my girlfriend?" your landlord was mad that someone is out there pretending to be his girlfriend. He might change girlfriends frequently, but at the moment he was single. So who would dare to present themselves as his girl?

"I heard that you don't get girls home unless it's someone important." never in their life have they bought someone home since you moved in there.

"I didn't bring anyone in here?" everyone was confused. No one didn't know what to say.

"The other day you came back with someone, right? I just wanted to apologize because I didn't know it was you. I thought it was the neighbors." the dark haired guy started to laugh again, this time not even trying to hide it. You got up from you seat and went to the door as fast as you could. "Anyway, I'm sorry. I just want it to say it in case of anything." and so, you disappeared from their eyes once again. Whatever you heard about them it was clearly bullshit in their eyes. You need to stop listening to whatever people had to say, they could answer to whatever question you had. Yet you never ask for anything.

A game of cats and mouse started. It was clearly who were the evil minds that came with the plan and who was the clueless victim. One day when you were at school, they happen to be there to switch everything in the house. Whatever you thought you knew was, now was in a complete another place. It was pitiful to watch them work so eagerly on this. It was hard to watch them being idiots, yet not even a second they stopped to think about it. All they had to do now was for you to come back.

It took you two days to finally see that something is wrong. In these two days they almost died of impatience because of how slow you were. Yet look at you, refusing to give up. You searched everywhere in the kitchen cabinets for whatever you were looking, only to see with the corner of your eye that it was placed somewhere were you clearly couldn't reach at. You took a chair and tried to get it yourself. You don't need help from those fuckers after all. Why would you need it when they made your life so complicated.

"Need help?" the knight in shining armor was too late unfortunately, yet that didn't stopped Gojo from being a fucker.

"Not at all." he came next to you, took whatever was in your hands and put it back up, just to take it and handle it to you.

"Here you go." you sighed. But your misfortune continue to grow when the other idiot came in.

"You're stuck there? Is it too high for you?" the dark haired guy tone was like it was making fun of you. He picked you up and put you down. "There there, no need to thank me." all you did was to sigh.

"I don't need this anymore. Can you put it back?" you handed whatever you had in your hands back to them.

"You got the wrong thing? This happens if you try to reach high places alone." the moment they turned their heads away from you was the way you disappeared from there. Oh, but it was hell the next few days. Nothing was in their right places and it turned you crazy. You gave up. If that's what they wanted to hear then they win. Just like always, you finally showed up in that kitchen. You sat at another chair, choosing a different one from your usual one. Head and hands on the table as you waited for them to appear there. You were about to call it defeat when you felt asleep. It was morning after all, at this time you would usually sleep. Heck, even the bed under you was sleeping. If you were pulling out the white flag, now they were the ones doing it. Seeing you there once again made them realize their mistake.

They apologized ,not to you physically but mentally. You did nothing more than just being curious. Who wouldn't be? Some rich guy let you stay in his house when you needed a place to stay. He didn't ask for anything, the rent was even lowered to half the price it was to the previous place you lived at. And even after all those rumors you heard, you didn't had to see any of their dates inside the house. It was nice living there, they tried to make an effort somehow to not disturb you. And so you did to them. But maybe they didn't thought about it in the end. Sure, it was childish, but wouldn't you do the same if you were in their shoes? Just like you, they have questions. They also want answers. Sure, their methods might be a little out of pocket, but try to think the way they do. They're too proud, you'll never see them asking for anything. They'll make you ask for it and then act nonchalant about it. Can't you see they're some big fucks? They're fuckers and they're proud. They're literally dickheads.

The strategy changed. They'll get you out that room in other ways. That's when you started to wake up with all kind of food and sweets. They'll get home and the first thing to do is to go to your room to announce what they got. It made you instantly get out the bed and follow them. They played dirty all the time. They did it in such a way that when you hear the front door you instantly get out the bed and sprint to who ever came back. Big smile on your face and knowing absolutely nothing about whatever scheme they might plan next.

"I didn't got anything today." Suguru's words made you lose your smile instantly. "Satoru might come with something tho." and that made your smile to come back.

"Can I stay with you until he comes back?" his smile seems so innocent. It made him look innocent. That old fox isn't playing according to the books. No, in fact he'll get off the right path just to get to what he wants faster. He knew exactly that your so called landlord wouldn't come back home tonight. Yet he's not going to say shit.

"Of course." and so, you ended up with him on the big couch that was in the living room, watching some movie that was playing on some random channel on tv. It would be such a big lie if he says whatever he was after was just friendship. Is he trying hard? Maybe. But he wants to look like you're the one worked up about it. He wants to look like he just happened to be there and that's it. And oh man he got what he want. By the end of that movie you two ended up in your room. His hands moved so fast to get your clothes off the moment that door was closed. The big windows gave so much light that he could see very clearly where your bed was at.

"Suguru.." you whined his name so sweet and softly. It took all the control he haves to not jump on you in that exact moment, not like he wasn't all over you. If he knew that he could have got to this point sooner from a movie and some takeaways he would have got through this a long time ago. You sat at the edge of the bed, looking at him taking his clothes off and just jumping back on you.

"Have you done this before?" he was placed in between your legs ,one of his hands placed on your thigh as the other was on the bed right next to you keeping him from not putting all his weight on you. You nodded your head slowly.

"But it's been a while so be gentle with me." animal in heat describes him the best. It looked like a big bad wolf was on top of its prey. If you still can walk tomorrow then that means he did a bad job. But your sweet words made him realize that's too soon. How can he get in your bed again if he scares you now?

"Alright." the hand he had on your thigh moved in between your legs. You were so wet after that little make out session you had on the couch. It should be a crime to leave you alone when you clearly need his help. He's only playing the bigger person so he won't fuck everything right now, so let him believe in his delusions.

Two of his fingers were inside you, moving them in and out of you for a few moments just to see how far he can go. And then he started to curl them, making you instantly squirm. Did the other guy you fucked not do a good job? Maybe that's why you had almost non existent experience in this. Maybe you were left disappointed. Aren't you lucky? He likes to hear only good reviews about himself. Oh, but he hopes you heard about his services. If you're so interested in what other people says then you should definitely listen to the people that ended in the same bed as him. "I know you like it, but stop moving so much." he stopped his hand movement for a moment to let you breathe. He's lying. He likes the way you're squirming and trembling at everything he does.

"You're so mean." you whined. If that was mean then he doesn't know how to call whatever he's usually doing. He likes it rough. He likes to see tears in the eyes of who ever he's fucking. He likes to relieve his stress in questionable ways.

"Am I?" he had this diabolical smirk on his face. Evil was too little to say. He looked like he let his demons out of leash. His face got closer to yours, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he started to move his hand again. He'd go as deep as he can, discovering all kind of places, touching you here and there just to see you melt. "Come on, look at me, don't close your eyes." he'll rub your clit for time to time, just to remind you about it. It was mostly to see your expressions, and to remind you how mean he can be. If you said he is then he is, no? This was him just being the fucker he is. Toying with you just to show you how he can make you feel. And to remind you that if he gives, then he also can take away all these new overwhelming feelings. Beg for him. That's what he wants to hear from you after all. Cries and begs.

And you were falling all for it. The way you would cry his name was like good news to his ears, a melody that's he's so happy to hear. His fingers are always making sure to touch all the good places. But at some point it was too much, you felt like you were going over the edge, your vision completely disappearing when you came all over his hand. And he still kept toying with you. "Please-" you gasped. "No more.." you were so dumb for him that he couldn't help but want to over stimulate you, play with you until you're begging for more.

"You can take it, can't you?" it was an obvious no from you. It was the first time you felt this overwhelming, you clearly needed a break to calm down.

"Kiss me." you wanted to feel more than just his evil scheme. A kiss would go so good after that torture. But he stopped the moment you said those words. He just wanted to show you whos in charge of this, because he clearly didn't liked how comfortable you got with him. You didn't seemed to look mad at him for not fulfill your request, no, in fact you only sighed relived. Finally you were free from his cursed hands. He pressed your legs together and put them on his shoulder. You weren't ready for the big thing. You bearly can take his thick fingers, just looking at his cock made you almost pass out. "I don't think I'm ready for that.." you gulped, you only hoped to hear something about how you could do it if you wanted to or any words of encouragement.

"I know you can't." he said as his hand traveled to your pussy, collecting some of your juices to rub it on his cock along with his precum. "The moment I'll get inside that pussy of yours I'll make sure you won't be able to walk for days." he said as he slips his cock in between your thighs. He expected to get more than this in return, because in his head he deserves more than he gives, at least in that situation. But he's not that horny yet to forget about his morals. So this is enough for the moment, because he knows that in the future you'll be able to give him so much more than now.

He hated those eyes of yours. The way you would look so innocent, curious. Ughh. It just made him want to ruin you. Just look at the way you look at him right now. Big eyes, just as curious as always, yet he can see it more playful. It made him think that you're not taking him seriously. "Does it feel good?" he kept moving his hips back and forth, rubbing his cock on your skin. It felt so soft and warm. Your whole body was warm no matter where he puts his hands on you. He couldn't give you an answer, not because he couldn't, it was more because he didn't want to. Why don't you figure it out yourself? All he can do was to grunt, hopping you'll get the message.

His grip on your thighs was so tight that it might leave a bruise. He felt like your going to run away the moment you get a chance to. So all he can do was to grab you as close as he can. Keeping your legs in place as he moves his hips. What was first a slow pace now turned into fast and desperate thrusts. He couldn't keep his head straight, he couldn't think anymore the moment he felt like hes getting closer and closer to that sweet release he kept chasing after. He wanted to hear something from you, it was too quiet. Yet he can't ask for it, because his ego is just not letting him.

He'll eat you up. The moment he would get inside that pussy of yours he'll make sure the whole neighborhood would hear his name. "I'd fuck that mouth of yours right now if I could." he let his thoughts out. He couldn't think of a single peaceful or good word to say to you. And you didn't said anything about it and took whatever he had to say. You watched him the whole time. You can clearly see that something is wrong with him. His face, his actions are showing so. "Fuuuck." he was so so so close. He had so many things to say yet he didn't said shit because it just didn't felt like it was the right time. You weren't in the same situation as him, you weren't going through the same rollercoaster of emotions. He really wanted to flip you over, fuck you from behind as he'd just call you a slut, or any names to degradate you. You could take it, can't you? You could take this load right here right now and thanks him for it at the end, won't you? Lost in his thoughts, he finally came all over your belly. Still moving his hips just to get everything all out.

What a night, huh. He felt into the bed right next to you, tired, and just wanting to get some sleep. Wasn't it surprising tho? He just changed one time the way he's going at it and now he feels like he ran a marathon. And you had the audacity to look at him with those big eyes again. Looking so sweetly and ready to take him for real this time. "You'll sleep here tonight?"

"Who knows." he would do like always, he knew the answer yet he couldn't say that he was ready to leave in this instance your room to go back to his. He waited for you to fall asleep before he finally retreated to his bedroom.

He could only imagine how you'll react tomorrow when you can't see him. He thought you'll stay in your room just like always. But no, the next day you were in that kitchen, sitting next to him so shyly. It was like you were back to the beginning. You didn't want anything more from him than just ask if everything is alright between you too. Just to make sure everything stays the way it was before. But you can't really say anything since your landlord is also there. And this makes you feel so guilty.

"Ehh. You really done it, didn't you." the white haired guy said something. That scared you, your heart almost left your body. Does he knows? Were you in trouble? "Don't worry, Y/N. Whatever happened he probably doesn't even remembers about it." the dark haired guy only smiled like he didn't know why you were acting like that. Since his friend was so clueless maybe he could tease you about it a little.

"Hmm? What have I done?" you could see your soul leaving your body. All you wanted to do is to make sure that nothing will change after last night. But this was too much. You were on the verge of crying.

"L- let's talk about it later!" you ran from there like always. How long would it last until you'll say something? He won't say a word until you do the first step. Why? Because he liked to see you cry. He didn't thought that he would bully you, but you clearly deserve it for playing with his head.

Imagine his surprise to see you the next day in the kitchen again. If he would be the first to come out his room, now he would make sure to come as late as possible. You could go to his room and say whatever you had to say, yet you didn't. You would go in that damn kitchen all the time to have any interactions in there. Was that small talk enough for you? Didn't you wanted more? Because if you would come to his room he promise to reward you for your courage and give you a little bit of himself. You could even choose what you wanted from him. He would be glad to hear what you had to say. That if you stop going into that kitchen and just be straight forward. In his eyes you were a coward. Yet he loved toying you the way he wants.

You sat next to him again. This time more determined than before. You took out your phone and typed a simple question in your notepad.

'Can I ask you something?' you showed him your phone screen.

He acted like he didn't see it.

'I really want to ask you something.'

Still he acted like he didn't see anything.

This was pure madness. This was getting on your nerves. You stepped on his foot to get his attention. He gasped as he looked in shock at you. The nerves. The audacity. You point to your phone again yet he keeps acting like he doesn't see anything. He even turned his face away.

"Just talk already." Gojo only rolled his eyes. "What happened anyway?"

Geto looked at you. He didn't planned on saying anything unless you said it. He just wanted to fuck with you after all. Nothing more besides getting on your nevers. You wanted to say it so bad. The words wouldn't come out your mouth when so many eyes were on you. It didn't matter if it were only them. You can't say it. So you did the only thing you had left. Retreat. At least for the moment. You got out of there and stormed in your room. Next time it's either a win or nothing at all. You swear to get an end to this and then you can live peacefully and go on with your life.

The next day you waited on the hallway for that stubborn man to come out his room. It was a long wait, yet you stayed by his door until he finally came out. "Are we good. Yes or no?" you went straight to the point. All these days of playing around made you sick of this.

"Why don't you come in so we could talk about it?" he wanted you in his room, he would have you there.

"I just want to know that nothing changed."

"What do you mean by that?" this damn wolf.

"Like. We're the same as before, right? I just want to make sure nothing changed." he had that dumb smile on his face and he kept acting like he doesn't know shit.

"Come in and lets talk." this was making you so mad. He didn't wanted to talk when you tried before but now hes willing to talk about it? He grabbed your hand and dragged you in his room, pushing you against the door as soon as he closed it. Hands in your shirt going up as his lips touched yours. Here was your reward for taking such a big step.

"You said talk." you gasped for air.

"This is also a form of talking." his cold hands made you squirm. The way he's moving his hands up and down against your skin. He wanted to go all the way up to your breasts until you heard a someone knocking on the door.

"It's me. Just wanted to make sure you two are alright." this was clearly a way to get out of there before this situation gets worse.

"Ah yes. We're fine." a hand grabbed your arm, stopping you from going further away. That damn fox just can't let you go yet.

"Can I know what happened?" you tried to not panic, but you just couldn't. Your mind was still on whatever happened earlier.

"We watched a movie and we argued about it." it was far from the truth. But you'll just go with what Geto said. You can't think of a better excuse.

"Huh?" your landlord raised and eyebrow.

"It was a good movie. Right, Y/N?" the way this man haves to drag you through mud and hell before you could have a break. He knew he couldn't do anything, yet he still kept trying only to make you anxious.

You gulped. "Indeed." you can't even find your words.

"So we can go like how it was before then." this evil man said it like you weren't the one that kept trying to make sure everything is alright.

"I should put a parental lock on that tv." your landlord only sighed and turned around going back to the kitchen. You ran from there in your room. Only wanting a break from this madness.

I wanted to post this sooner, but I also wanted to finish a few more parts first. Well, I'm just glad I got to finish this at least.

[moralesmilesanhour]

Or an AU drabble where Miles and Margo go to the same HBCU and they have crushes on each other. Someone’s pet trarantula is loose and Miles who has arachnophobia grabs the first person who he can find (Margo) to help him get rid of it.

(obvious spider trigger warning to anyone else reading) Thank you for requesting!! :) Idk the specifics of how HBCU dorms work so I just went by my own experience cuz I couldn't find anything just looking it up lmao I hope that's okay (I also don't know how you're actually meant to handle tarantulas so maybe don't try this at home)

"Miles, don't look now, but - man, I said don't look!"

Miles' head immediately snapped to the wall opposite him where he was typing out a response to one of his discussion posts. Jude sighed and plugged his ears in preparation for the blood-curdling, slasher film-worthy scream that followed.

Miles had seen spiders in his house before; ones no larger than an ant that could easily be mistaken for a different kind of bug until it began to crawl and convulse in that way that only spiders do. He had made it a point to bring in boxes upon boxes of EcoVenger on move-in day to make sure he never had to see any sign of the creatures in his vicinity.

The spider currently ambling up the wall across the room from him after he leapt backwards was the stuff of his worst nightmares.

"Who the fuck brought a tarantula to school?!?"

Miles and Jude were both in the hallway now in their PJs after the former refused to go back inside until it was gone.

"That's Alex's pet. We all saw it at his party last weekend, you didn't-?"

Miles crossed his arms and gave him a look.

"...Right. Of course you didn't."

The door to their right creaked open, half a face peeking out from behind it. Both men recognized the young woman's sharp eyeliner before she even began to speak.

"Aye, Margo!"

"Hey," she smiled as she fully emerged from her room in her usual green sweatshirt and shorts. "Whatchy'all yelling about? I don't think I've ever heard your voice reach that octave."

"Oh that wasn't-"

"Yeah, Alex's tarantula snuck into our room, right next to his head!" Miles interrupted, leaning casually on the wall with an easy grin as if he wasn't just cussing out his roommate and about to do the same to Alex.

Jude gave him a nasty glare, but didn't say anything.

"Oh my god, it got out?" Margo gasped, sounding more like a kid at the zoo than a concerned neighbor.

"Yeah, it's really been botherin' Jude," Miles continued with great affect. "Care to lend a hand?"

"Lemme see - I mean, I can help!"

She clapped her hands together and strolled right past Jude towards their room.

"I'll make sure it's safe and put it in a jar to bring back to Alex, and you," Miles yelped when she grabbed his wrist and tugged him behind her, "are gonna help me catch it."

He hesitated and looked to Jude for help, but the other man shrugged with a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his face.

"Miles?"

"S-sure," he smiled painfully, "I'm right behind you!"

By the time they made it to the shared bedroom, the spider was nowhere to be seen. Miles swore he felt his stomach drop. He swept the room with anxious eyes while Margo ventured into the kitchen in search of a proper container. It wasn't on either of the desks or desk lamps, and after counting to three and pulling away their bed sheets, it did not seem to be hiding there, either.

He found her again while she rummaged through the cupboards to report his findings. She pulled out a mug with the faces of several 'Bleach' characters printed on the front and examined it.

Miles winked, "Don't use that one, that's my good mug."

Margo snickered and handed it back to him.

"Y'all got any mason jars I can use, then? I didn't see any around."

"Sure, they're just behind the...the... "

Miles had made the grave mistake of looking up, and stopped dead in his tracks. There, just inches away from his forehead, was the tarantula. The dark mass was slowly climbing its way up the cupboard where the mason jars were supposed to be.

"Oh, sweet, it's right there!"

He looked like someone had gotten out a remote and pressed 'pause', his eyes the size of saucers.

Margo's brows furrowed in concern.

"Miles? Aren't you gonna get it?"

"I...um..."

His chest began to rise and fall more rapidly as the spider continued its ascent, and she quickly realized that he was a little more than just startled. She took back the mug, set it on the counter, and gently pushed him aside.

"Actually, I got it."

Margo reached up to where the spider was and let it crawl onto her hand. Her other hand, she used to open the cupboard and grab a jar, which she turned to hand over to Miles.

"Open this for me?"

"Now that I can do," he said, taking the jar carefully as if the tarantula would leap off of Margo's hand at any moment. "There."

She deposited the creature into the jar with such ease that Miles half-expected to be made fun of, but she didn't say anything. Just observed with a little smile as it crawled aimlessly around the container and pushed its legs against the glass.

"Y'know, Alex actually let me hold this little guy once."

Miles leaned back against the opposite counter.

"Do you, like, regularly pet bugs?"

She hummed before answering, "I like some bugs, but I'm not exactly diggin' in the grass looking for 'em. Tarantulas are cool, though. They can shoot their hairs out at people to defend themselves. Wish I could do that."

"It'd be a hell of a superpower," he laughed. "You wanna take this guy across the hall?"

"I do, but are you gonna be able to handle it?"

"He's trapped and he cannot hurt me," Miles got off the counter and gestured for Margo to go ahead of him. "I'll be fine."

[thegreencanary]

Karen Wheeler Hate Club

Based on this request!

Paring: Billy Hargrove and Female Reader (established relationship)

TW: Cursing, Smoking, ADULTS BEING FUCKING GROSS. Minors this is a DNI cuz the adults are nasty. So go find Joyce and Hopper and get a story from them. A good safe bedtime story that doesn’t involve bored suburban moms who need to be in jail.

A/N: This is my work and I give no one the permission to post it on other sites or claim it as their own or do both of those things. Also Karen is gross for hitting on Billy and I will not take any questions at this time.

Also please take the Trigger Warnings seriously!Mental health first babes.

It’s a short one, just a little one shot!

Fuming wasn't a word that would describe you often, but today it fit perfectly. The sun was out but the fact that Karen Wheeler was trying to pick up your boyfriend was making you burn. Billy didn't mind, and at first he really liked it but once the two of you started dating he had backed off the flirting. Sure he was older and hotter than the high school boys at Hawkins, but Nancy was literally his age and she even got on her mom about it. You huffed as Karen tossed her head back laughing at something Billy said. He was just being nice, which means he was being a huge flirt. That boy had two settings, mad as hell and flirty as fuck. .The past few months you'd seen a different side to him with the Upside Down showing you different things about all your friends, you eventually developed feelings for Billy. No matter how sweet he was to you, he knew how much you hated Karen Wheeler. Grabbing your bag you almost jumped out of your lawn chair when you saw Steve enter the pool. He could take over watching the kids, you weren't going to stick around and watch someones MOM hit on your freaking boyfriend.

"Hey Y/N! Wh--"

"El is in the bathroom, everyone else is in the deep end. Have fun. Bye."

You cut Steve off and he looked so confused. His eyes followed yours and the sight of Karen looking up at Billy while he was on the lifeguard chair was all he needed to understand.

"See you later."

"Yeah."

There was some commotion behind you as you stormed out, only to feel a strong hand on your arm; stopping you.

"Where are you going babe?"

"Home...or maybe to Nancy's house to tell her dad that his wife is a pervert."

Billy sighed, he thought your jealousy was funny and a little cute but now it was clear that you didn't find it either of those things. He lit a cigarette and tried to talk to you.

"I get it, I can't exactly tell her to fuck off at work thought."

"It's fine Billy. I get it. Hot mom and everyone wants her. Well you can fucking have her then."

You ripped your arm away from Billy and stormed off. You heard him cussing behind you and saying you were over reacting but you didn't care. Later that night you got a phone call from Billy. He wasn't one for apologizing but he talked to you a bit about everything and you explained your side as well. The two of you made up under the rule that he wouldn't entertain Mrs. Wheeler at all. That was what was supposed to happen, yet Karen didn't seem to get the message that he wasn't interested. Every damn day she was at the pool waiting for Billy, wearing new swim suits and makeup...who fucking wears makeup to go swimming? You reached your limit when you went on your lunch break from work to eat with Billy and there she was, standing too close to Billy and trying to put her nasty hands all over her. The rage you felt carried your feet to Billy and you stepped in front of Karen, placing a big kiss on Billy's lips. He smirked and wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you in tighter.

A moment or two passed and you separated, looking at Karen with spite in your eyes.

"I'm sorry, was I interrupting?"

"Not at all baby, Mrs. Wheeler was just asking about swim lessons."

That fucking bitch.

"Huh. Mike and Nancy swim great, just like their mom!"

A deviously innocent smile crawled across your face as you saw Karen step back in defeat.

"Yeah...its for a friend. She never really learned..."

"I'm sure she would fit right in to the group classes. After all, it's a little weird for someone your age to be spending alone time with teenagers, isn't it?"

Billy squeezed your side playfully. The smile on this face was of pure awe. You were a force to be reckoned with and he fucking loved it.

"I...I suppose so. Thank you for the information Billy. I'll see you around."

"I'm always at work."

He responded nicely but it was clear there was NOTHING more to feed the delusional Karen Wheeler. Once she was out of sight, Billy picked up where you two left off from the kiss and a blush reached your toes.

"Billy! People can see..."

"That didn't stop you before baby. You're so fucking hot when you're mad."

"Well don't make me mad like that again or you'll be the one I'm bitching at."

"You're cute when you think you can scare me."

He smirked and grabbed your ass. This lunch was going to be very quick.

[v3nusplanetofluv]

the night shift ･ﾟﾟ･｡

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

chapter I; the night shift suna x fem!reader warnings: mentions of necrophilia

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

attached to the luxury apartment was a whole foods. it was never really busy and the checkout counters were obnoxiously loud, nonetheless, things could be worse so you never complained. you got to pick the music that played through the intercoms and the employee discount was pretty solid.

the routine was the same--another late night shift where you would sit at the only open counter in a black hoodie two sizes too big as you speedread a book for your literature class. every so often you would sniffle sending a shiver up your spine.

the automatic doors opened.

as always, you didn't lift your head. a group of three came into the store.

"jeez, what happened ta customer service," the tall "blond" muttered as he stuffed his hands into his pocket hoodies feeling the familiar chill of the store.

"why do ya even care? ya never say hi back anyway," his twin scoffed.

the third man, with dark brown hair, groaned as he internally screamed. "no. we are not doing this. it's one o'clock in the morning. let's get the popcorn and drinks and leave."

insults were said under their breath as the trio continued through the store, occasionally tossing things into their handheld basket, the cold metal handles' burning their fingers.

they made their way up to your counter, stifled yawns and all, as the dark-haired man put his basket upon the conveyor belt. you looked up, revealing eyebags and dark under-eye circles that looked as if they belonged to a vampire.

it must've been love at first sight as suna felt his his breath catch, and he hoped no one else noticed.

you didn't.

with a sigh you put your book down to the side and started scanning the items, weariness evident in your movements.

atsumu rolled his eyes with a scoff, "sorry, didn't know we were inconveniencin' ya." sarcasm laced his words making you send him a nasty glare of your own.

with a swift motion, suna swatted him on his head making him flinch. "don't be a fucking asshole,' he turned to you, "sorry, he's not house trained."

atsumu furrowed his eyebrows as he heard osamu's snickers, "stop laughing samu! fuck off!"

"i," you yawned, "really don't care. your total is $20.73, cash or card?"

"card."

━━━━

"...she was kinda hot," suna said breaking the silence in the elevator as they rode back up to his new apartment.

"who?" osamu questioned as he looked over at him.

"the cashier-"

"FUCKKK NO. and she was rude," a slight pouted formed on the setter's lips as he sunk into his corner of the elevator.

"i don't know sunarin, she ain't really my type so she's all yers,' osamu said as his eyes drifted to his feet. "she looks like someone ya'd go for-"

"if he's a necrophilliac!" atsumu exclaimed, "she looked like she was dyin'--like a tim burton character!"

osamu and suna let out a few chuckles as the blond furrowed his eyebrows.

"i'm not complaining, I do like the corpse bride-" suna shrugged with a small smile as osamu shoved him before leaving the elevator. "hey! don't try and tell me she wasn't hot!"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[artemisia-black]

I really loved the last chapter. I find it interesting how you mentioned that Orion only steps in when things are bad, but he knows exactly what Sirius is doing because he is spying on him. Could you talk about this? thanks

Thank you so much for reading and sending an ask.

Ooh ok so this is actually a really key point of Orion's characterisation.

I developed Orion as a character from several key things:

How Sirius describes BCS's parenting in Padfoot returns, which when framed by what we later find out about Sirus's family, reads like projection (albeit accurate projection):

“Nasty little shock for old Barty, I’d imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn’t he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while ... gotten to know his own son.”

2. Sirius never once tells Harry he loves him, but he shows it through his actions.

3. Sirius gives us this piece of information about Orion: "My father put every security measure known to Wizard-kind on it when he lived here."

From these points, I wanted to create a character in Orion who is deeply conflicted. He embodies the strict, duty-bound nature of the Black family while also carrying a hidden depth of care for his children that he struggles to express.

He protects his house as a way of protecting his family, but is emotionally detached from them. And while Sirius is not emotionally detached, I wonder if his occasional gruffness was him mirroring Orion.

Additionally, Orion spies on Aeliana out of concern for Sirius. He is worried about who she is, given her ancient name and the fact that she attends Beauxbatons. It has been hard to gather meaningful intelligence on her, and he doesn't want her to be in love with someone else. This surveillance is a protective measure to ensure that Sirius is not being deceived or hurt. Orion’s actions reflect his deep, albeit unspoken and slightly fucked up, love and concern for his son.

[sillyandquiteawkward]

ended up dumping vaguely chronological secondo headcanons down so enjoy. or dont im not your dad.

got middle child syndrome HARD

he tries to make up for it by being nasty to terzo for a lot of their life. can range from stealing his stuff and calling him a baby despite their age difference being only 3 months, to pushing him down a flight of stairs (broke his arm. terzos fine.)

despite this they are near inseparable. mischief team extraordinaires

always admired primo for his level head and wished he could get over his hotheadedness (he will learn eventually how to smother his emotions) (this is not necessarily a good thing for him)

in the same breath hes incredibly jealous over terzo’s brains and charisma. he wishes he could BE terzo.

incredibly melancholic guy. he is not against writing sad angsty poetry and lyrics. just for himself tho. it will never see the light of day. (ok maybe zombie queen will.)

he grew up underachieving bc he could never outpace either of his brothers when he did try.

people still expect SO MUCH from him despite trying to look as useless as possible. theres a small part of him that hates his family and the expectations hes dealt because of it. hes SUPPOSED to be better than this. why cant you be like primo. why cant you be like terzo. secondo is asking the same questions. why CANT he just be them.

likes working out bc he can put on his tunes and be by himself for a few hours. terzo once asked if he could join him and secondo told him he looks great so he doesnt need to. (working on not snapping. doing better)

becomes an alcoholic very soon after becoming old enough to drink.

one day in their twenties, terzo comes to him seeking comfort bc he failed a class outright and feels like his life is coming apart at the seams. terzos crying freaking out like hes going to get in trouble despite him being an adult and secondo finally gets it through his thick skull that his perfect brothers are people too and are going through their own shit. he comforts terzo and secondo airs out his resentment.

hes getting more mature and tries his best to act like an adult. hes trying to do a lot of things actually. puts all of himself into the ministry and the business side of things. he becomes very close to sister imperator in this time. hes being nice to copia.

hes riding the high of being appreciated and acknowledged by others for his hard work. it might not be perfect, but it feels nice.

over the years he gets to be known as someone who only cares about business and getting shit done with a pissed off face. all work and no play. people dont like approaching him. this is perfectly fine for him.

likes to startle people with his jokes and just breaking his stoic character around them. why yes, mr angry accountant priest man will make dick and fart jokes. this is one of the few pleasures in his life currently.

wears readers to look at papers and computer screens. has a single pair of prescription sunglasses for when the hangovers get bad but he still needs to work.

didnt start partying hard until after 50 where it hit him he needs to fucking live a little and stop himself from rotting behind a desk. instead of getting drunk at home he now gets drunk at bars and random peoples houses. hes sleeping around. hes blowing his money away. typical midlife crisis things.

sister is disappointed to see secondo go back to shirking his work like when he was younger. when she tries to talk to him, he insists its not a problem and that hes still getting his work done, and at that point, he is.

seeing primo be a rockstar really did inspire him to want that as well. he started writing songs even before the mantle was passed to him.

secondo promised sister he could handle being the lead to the band and the world domination plans before primos retirement was announced to everyone else. sister wanted to trust him, and she did, but couldnt help thinking he wouldnt take it seriously.

he doesnt. he uses it for more parties and to get laid.

after getting fired from the band he retires from the ministry and parties like theres no tomorrow. who cares anymore. what else is there to life than the temporary.