#FUCKING. POISON ON YOUR TONGUE *MAKE ME PAY FOR IT*

[whatareyoudoingwithamaserati]

I AM NOT HAVING A NORMAL ONE TONIGHT

I think I hauvecovid

[pseudowho]

Behind the Wall

Who was this stressed, suited man...and how could you love him so easily?

A Nanami Kento glory hole story.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Corporate!Nanami (before return to sorcery), falling in love with a stranger, hand jobs, blowjobs, fingering, excessive cum, creampie, anonymous PiV sex, tiny bit angsty if you squint

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"How much do they pay you here?" A deep voice, smooth, but rusted with whiskey and smoke.

Your eyebrows raised spontaneously; kneeling down behind your black screen and hole, you didn't necessarily expect the small-talk with your clients to be romantic, but such business-like enquiries did not suit the tone, either.

Regardless, you would accept almost any pay, to find somewhere clear of the monsters that plagued you; the monsters that had chased you from job after job after job. None had followed you here tonight, it seemed, so you answered, trying to sound light-hearted.

"About industry average, I think."

A huff, the man's voice now bitter; "After they skim the majority off for themselves after your hard work, though."

You shrugged, as if he could see. He hadn't even begun to hook his cock out yet, so all you could see was a pair of lean, long legs in a black pinstripe suit. You found yourself tickled by your interaction beginning with anti-Capitalist outrage, and you quipped.

"Great pension plan, though."

"I somehow doubt that."

You laughed, musical and sweet, and were satisfied to hear another huff, the barest hint of laughter from your stranger, before his voice toned lower, his words for your ears and yours alone.

"Well...though I'm sure you deserve better than this place, I'll make it worth your while. I have to get back to work, and I'm sure you have bills to pay."

Beautifully veined, thick, long hands had begun to undo his belt, and you felt a strange thrill of excitement that you didn't feel with the other men. He sighed, unzipping, hooking out a long, thick, pretty cock that looked painfully hard and weeping pre-cum.

"I can't concentrate like this, I'll just...get this poison out and then I can focus."

He sounded almost apologetic, his words dripping with loathing in a way that made you frown. You reached one finger out through your hole, beckoning, tender as you whispered.

"Well, I can help with that."

Your stranger had grasped his cock to direct it through your glory hole, but hesitated at your tone, as if the tenderness you gave him was an odd specimen, requiring examination before he could accept it.

The tip of his cock, pink and full, nudged against your cheek and nose as it pressed through the hole. You heard your suited stranger hiss and shudder. You couldn't help but be impressed by your stranger's size, spitting onto the tip before beginning to stroke him in long, languid, practiced strokes.

"How do you hide this beast when you get a boner at work--"

A huff again, almost amused, drawing out into a ragged, needy groan. His fingertips pressed on the board on the other side, white-knuckled, his voice straining as he tried to speak past the pleasure of your pumping hand.

"--sit-- sit at my desk...hoping it'll go away-- fuck, you're good...just help me, please...pay you well, just-- just get it out and I'll head back--"

Your suited man groaned again, deep and fractured as your hand picked up its pace. When you spat on his tip again, your lips ghosting against him, he bucked involuntarily, cursing and apologising under his breath. When you drew the flat of your tongue across his slit to taste the salty pre-cum there, he almost whimpered with divine agony.

You felt a squirm of pleasure in your belly, sure that his beautiful voice alone could form the soundtrack you could orgasm to, night after night.

"You sound like you should have a girlfriend to help you with this." You bit your lip, satisfied to hear how his cool, bored tone had broken into something altogether more desperate.

"--sh-shit, u-ungh...any woman deserves better...better than anything I can offer-- f-fuck, I'm close already--"

You felt it; his balls were too big to fit through the hole alongside his cock, and they looked heavy, aching, his body struggling to draw them up as your suited man threatened to spill in your hand after a single flat minute. You whispered to him, soft in a way that offered him an intimacy he was clearly desperately lacking.

"Stop hating yourself when you should be coming in my hand, big guy."

When his knees buckled against your wall at you cuffing the base of his cock with your other hand, making the veins stand proud, you knew he was crumbling.

"--a-agghh fuck-- come too hard if you-- if you keep that up...shit, like a cock ring, I..."

You hoped that when he came, some of his abject self-loathing would pour away, too. His groans were rapidly turning into short little growls, the screen shaking as he bucked into your fist with such desperate force.

"--f-fuck, good girl, perfect...unnnhhh, perfect...shit, I'm...I'm..."

"God, you really do need thi--"

Your voice broke off with a squeak to feel a veritable fountain of cum spurt over your face, stripe after stripe of thick white release spattering over your cheeks, flooding down your hand and chest.

"O-oh-- wow--"

Your mouth dropped open in shock as your suited man grunted and cursed through his orgasm, his balls heavy and twitching, and you tasted a drip of his seed trickle down your nose and onto your tongue. Musty, sweet; nothing like its thickness would suggest.

His cock twitched for what seemed like an eternity in your hand, as you stroked him down from his peak, so covered in cum that you considered you may have to call it a night to go home and shower. As his groans faded, his voice ragged, you felt the guilt and shame radiate off him in waves.

"Shit, that was...ugh, I'm sorry. It's disgusting, I'm sure."

"It's absolutely not. I'm just...wow. Do you always come that much?"

A pause, guilty again as his voice rumbled; "...yes."

You laughed, and his cock twitched in your hand. He chuckled, warm and gravelly, when you pressed a cleaning wipe out through the hole.

"See you soon?" You asked, strangely hopeful.

"Not soon enough." He answered, soft in a way that surprised himself. His voice dropped an octave as a roll of bills pressed through the hole to you. "Here...keep it quiet. They're taking advantage of you."

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You were prepared, the second time your suited stranger visited. Having required an early finish and a shower two nights before, covered with an obscene amount of cum, you blushed to recall that you brought your vibrator to the shower with you, climaxing against the wall to the memory of his velvety voice.

You hoped he couldn't hear the faint buzzing between your legs on your side of the wall. You squirmed, muffling a moan around his cock head as you prepped him, your lips stretched and glossy with pre-cum.

"-h-haaaah, god, you...you're wasted here-- feel so pathetic-- no stamina with...with a mouth like that around me-- o-oohhh...fuck..."

You released him with a wet little pop, feeling your own pleasure building with the insistent buzz against your aching clit. He seemed just as happy to have your hand, and you admired the little neat trail of honey-blond pubes at the base of your fist as he fucked into it.

"Yeah, well...you're wasted too, at that company, by the sounds of it."

"Mmm...feels like what I deserve--"

You cut him off with a tongue to the underside of his cock, his voice fracturing into growled curses and hungry moans again.

"I already told you, if you talk about yourself like that again, I'll make you come faster--"

A breathless, rumbling laugh; "You're a monster."

You whispered, your breath ghosting against his cock head just enough to make him shudder; "Plenty of monsters in this world, beautiful man...but not me."

Your suited man stopped arguing with you, losing himself instead in the way your mouth, hot and suckling and eager, drew him in deeper with every bob of your head. The gasping, husky cry he made when his tip curved round the back of your throat, sent a burst of pleasure through you that had you humping your vibrator involuntarily.

Between his gasps, his vision fizzling with pleasure, you heard him hesitate, his voice barely above a whisper; "What's...that buzzing noise, I-- do you have...back there, are you--"

Barely pulling back, approaching the climax you tried to muffle as you pumped his base with your hand, you moaned, sweet and sinful around his cock head; "B-brought my vibrator...hope you don't mind--"

"Oh-- fuck-- FUCK--"

You squeaked, your orgasm muffled by the cum that flooded your mouth and tongue. As your pleasure threatened to make you convulse, you pushed forwards instead to take the rest of what he offered down your throat, and you lost sight and sound for an indeterminate amount of time, blinded and deafened by thigh-trembling ecstasy.

Swallowing, gasping, and fumbling a hand in your underwear to pull the vibrator off your overstimulated clit, you babbled at him, apologetic.

"S-sorry, hard to--to get guys off sometimes-- without a bit of a hit myself--"

"Fuck, don't talk about other guys when you just came with my cock down your throat."

You giggled, breathless, hearing your suited man pant as he came down from his high. When he removed his cock from the hole, a long, beautifully crafted thumb and forefinger reached hesitantly through instead, and gently pinched your chin.

You pressed a lingering, affectionate kiss to the pad of his thumb as it swiped over your lower lip, and you felt your heart thud to hear such a delighted, satisfied hum from him. He opened the palm of his hand, surreptitious, and your stomach twisted to see an even thicker roll of bills than before.

"...you don't...don't have to--"

"I want to, I...I meant it when I said you're wasted here. They're monsters. Animals."

You took the money with a heavy heart, pressing another kiss to his palm, and leaving your whispers there with it;

"Scarier monsters than them in the world."

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A black dog hunted your suited man, the next time he came to you. You felt it snapping at his heels, and when your stranger approached, it was to sit with his back against your wall, instead. You saw the briefest flash of a thick, corded neck, broad shoulders, a neat blond undercut. He was quiet for a few minutes, before you spoke, soft.

"...hey, you. I missed you last night."

He scoffed as if he didn't believe you, and you reached a hand through, poking him briskly on the shoulder.

"I mean it." Another pause, and you swallowed. "Do you...did you want to...?"

"I...I just want to talk. I'll still pay."

"I'd talk to you for free."

A further silence from him, your warmth a balm for his fractious self-loathing. His next words hung heavy with the weight of the world.

"When will we rest, do you think? When will it end?"

Your eyelids fluttered, looking down in thought. Your fingers stroked over the pad of his suited shoulder. You thought of how you'd been late to your gloryhole, that evening, your usual path blocked by some stop-motion atrocity, an eldritch horror only you could see, and you swallowed hard.

"...I don't know. It doesn't feel like it ever will."

A soft sigh, his voice rich and smoky; "I hesitate to ask what your particular burdens are, to have led you to a pit like this."

You felt tears prickle on your lashes. Taking a deep breath, and tippy-tapping your fingers on his shoulder, you tried to remain upbeat against the rising tide of misery.

"H-hey, it's not all bad. I got to meet you, after all."

"If that's your greatest joy, I pity you."

You winced. Your suited man jumped, when your hand gripped his shoulder with beseeching fervour, his own hand slowly coming up to overlay yours, dwarfing it in his palm. He tensed, unsure. When you spoke it was with the certainty that he needed to understand you.

"Get your tie off, and tie it around your eyes."

He was silent, stunned, his voice brittle as he replied; "...excuse me?"

"Just do it. Blindfold yourself. Then come here."

A moment of hesitation again...then a groan, surely older than he was, as he moved. You heard the silken friction of his tie being undone. You felt the anxious tension radiating off him, and you closed your eyes, eager not to ruin this mystery for yourself.

"Alright...if you insist."

When his voice sounded again, you felt his breath across your lips, inches from each other at the hole in the wall. You raised your hand up, feeling his shudder as your fingertips examined his face as though you were examining a sculpture; and, a sculpture he could have been, with high cheekbones, a thick squared jaw, narrow soft lips. You smiled, your eyes still closed.

"You're too handsome to leave here without a kiss."

Your suited man was silent, but you felt his breath hitch and his heart stutter.

When you finally pressed your lips to his, he moaned with ecstasy, just as he did when you pressed your lips to his erection. Though you took the lead initially, with your lips softly parting his until you could taste him, your permission imbued him with a bravery and confidence he hadn't revealed to you before.

He took charge, and kissed you like a man starved, his evening stubble rasping across your chin, nose against nose. His tongue trailed with a rusty shiver over your lips.

"F-fuck...you taste good...I-- ungh..."

He broke off to you biting his lower lip softly between your teeth, drawing him back in until your lips melded closely enough for you to suckle on the tip of his tongue. He moaned again, desperate and stuttering in his chest. You heard the brush of his palms pressing against the other side of the wall, desperate to cup your face and tilt his kisses down your throat.

Your mingling breaths tasted sweet, so indescribably erotic in its simple intimacy as you pulled away. You fought against the desire to open your eyes, instead biting your own lip, your brow furrowed against your own stupid decision. You whispered, to a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, from your suited man.

"And I'd do that for free, too."

It was the most he had ever paid you, that night, for the simple intimacy of a conversation and a kiss.

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Not a single solitary man visited your gloryhole the next night. You fizzled with worry, as man after man appeared to loiter near you, before choosing someone else; anyone else. It didn't make sense-- even your regulars would be heard mumbling nearby before walking away from you.

You felt a clench of worry; the managers would still pay you, you were sure...but not if it continued.

You felt almost lightheaded with relief and something deeper, when a familiar voice graced your wall near the end of your shift.

"Are you lonely, in there?"

You felt a frisson of joy, and you knelt upright, grinning, your heart fluttering.

"Not anymore."

There was a momentary pause, and you felt the words that your suited stranger wanted to say, stuck, gated by his teeth. Eventually, when he spoke, it was strained, as if fearful of damaging the sprouting intimacy between you both.

"I've...been thinking a lot, recently. About what's fair."

You blinked, unsure, but answered anyway. "Oh?"

"It's not fair that I have to do a worthless job for people I hate, just to earn enough money to retire young. It's not fair that you're here, selling your body to make a living. It's...its not fair that it's only me being pleasured."

You swallowed, heat rushing to your cheeks, feeling him err against what he wanted to say, and he continued.

"I...would like to do something for you. For...for both of us. At the next window."

Oh. The next window. The curtained table, upon which you could lie your lower half, for a man to use the deepest parts of you for his own pleasure. If any other man-- any other man, had asked this if you, you were sure you'd have hated yourself for it. And yet...

"I...I've never done...that."

"I'm...I'm glad, I...I hate myself. For using you, and how other men would use you, and I'd like...to give you better. To treat you as you deserve. God knows, I'd like to tell you to walk away from this shit hole altogether but that's ignorant of me, so I...just for tonight, I--"

"Okay."

You almost clapped your hands over your mouth, your acquiescence so natural that it shocked you. Your suited man seemed surprised, too, and you could almost smell the thudding scent of testosterone from his body as it readied itself for the primal promise of spilling inside your core.

"Yes? You...are you sure?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life, actually. I...I'll come round."

"Fuck, I...I'll be waiting. Nobody else can-- fuck."

You stood on shaky legs, suddenly self-conscious. Arriving at the table, you took a deep, trembling breath, before starting to strip. You heard heavy, pacing footsteps; more mumbling; a snapped, deep, possessive response.

"This one is mine."

You bit your lip, muffling a laugh at your suited man's immediate dismissal. By the skittish footsteps of the rebuffed other man, your suited stranger was not one that other men would choose to fight. You spoke up, your voice smaller than usual.

"Alright, here...here I come."

Reverent silence hung in the air, as fine as spun gold, when you finished moving your bare lower half down the table. Self-conscious, with your hands pressed over your face in blushing mortification, your thighs and knees remained clamped together.

You heard slow, deliberate footsteps towards your body, as if your suited man had forgotten how to walk. His voice spilled forth, full of sighs.

"Exquisite, I...god, I don't deserve this."

You could have cried for him. Sick of his apparent self loathing, you stretched one foot out until your toes pressed against rock solid abs beneath a pressed, twill shirt. You felt another blush rock your system, not expecting your suited man to be quite so buff.

A large, warm hand grasped your foot, stroking up your arch, your ankle, your calf, and settling with a squeeze behind your knee. When his other hand began to mirror the first, both of your knees now bent and pressed together in his grasp, you heard him whisper as he held you.

"I'll cover you," he promised, ragged with need, "with my body, I...I'll keep you hidden. Keep you safe."

"Thank you."

"Do you trust me?"

"One hundred percent."

A pleased rumble. "Good girl."

Softly, tenderly, two great hands stroked up the sides of your thighs, gliding around your hips with his shuddering groan. Your suited man's hands felt like liquid sex, turning every patch of skin he touched into an erogenous zone.

By the time his thumbs had begun to trace up and down, up and down the V shaped creases of your mound, you squirmed in his grasp, heat pooling in your belly. He chuckled, his thumbs stretching up to massage circles on your lower belly, warming you before he filled you.

"Does that feel good?"

"So good," you whispered, struggling to remain bashful with his obvious adoration.

This warm-palmed massage, from belly, to V, to thighs, to hips, and back again, melted you. Your thighs began to part, your code cracked, without you even noticing. When he settled his hips between your thighs, you moaned involuntarily, and felt his mouth, familiar only to your lips, begin to trail kisses along your ribs, your breasts hidden by a thin black curtain.

He appeared to resist temptation, nipping along the marks left by your bra beneath your breasts. Though outwardly calm, his hands grew ever tighter, shockingly strong and needy on your hips, and you could feel how ragged his breaths were against the soft wet suckling marks left by his mouth.

You had never felt so worshipped, and your suited man seemed determined to know you before he buried himself inside you. The only natural response to those strong hands beginning to creep up the inside of your thighs, was to offer him the treasure he sought, by opening your thighs completely to him.

"Please, can I...make you come on my fingers?"

At this point, you'd have to beg him not to stop if you opened your mouth, and instead locked your thighs around his hips so he couldn't escape. That deep chuckle again, this time against your sternum, and he kissed you in reward.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

"I won't, I-- o-oooh...my...haaaah..."

His fingers, wet with his spit, had slid between your folds, two of them teasing around your entrance while his thumb circled with blissful ease around your clit.

Utterly unafraid of playing you like an instrument, he massaged your little bud until the noises you made were to his liking. You whimpered to feel the insistent press of his two thick fingers, and his murmured growls, add to the fold.

"Fuck, you're...perfect. Get you ready...or I won't fit...fuck..."

Within seconds, he had found your spongy soft spot, turning your moans guttural, making love to you with his fingers before he took you. Your suited man was certainly no boy, responding to every moan, and every whimper, with the surety needed to take you to orgasm.

Only the tenting press of his cock, harder than ever against your inner thigh, gave away how well he was controlling himself for your sake. Already at the edge, you tumbled into completion when one beautiful, fine boned hand slipped under the curtain to cup your breast, to the tune of his hushed curses.

"Come for me, my love."

As if he hadn't noticed you were already arching, mewling, and fucking yourself down on his fingers, halfway through your peak. He stroked your inner walls as if to comfort you, shushing you, soothing, until your quivering pussy stilled around him. You heard the clink of his belt, your head spinning to remember that the best was still yet to come.

"Beautiful girl...sound so pretty when you come. I...I'll pull out--"

"--don't you dare."

The strangled noise that left him, and the way you felt a spurt of pre-cum spill onto your belly, signalled a farewell to his restraint. You squeaked to feel him bracket two thick, strong arms beneath your thighs, bracing you for the way he was about to take you.

Jolting into place, his cockhead nuzzled between your folds. He appeared to be needing nothing but ragged, shallow thrusts to pleasure himself against your oversensitive clit, his lovely voice speaking as if to himself before notching at your entrance.

"--s-so long, it's been...been so long...worth the wait, for you, though, sh-shit...augh..."

He entered you with one deep, smooth press, shushing you again with a tender grasp, and little shallow rocks to kiss his tip against your cervix. He felt absolutely enormous, squeezing himself into you until every little ridge within you shaped to him, hot and wet. You babbled, your words shooting through him like knives.

"--oh m-my god you feel so good so so good so big-- barely fits, o-ooohh--"

When you gasped with the sudden fullness, one of your hands flew down past the curtain to hold your lower belly, and something in your suited man snapped. He laid one hand over yours, pressing it down hard on your belly, before cursing a half-hearted apology, and taking you with the desperation of a man possessed.

Three strokes, deeper, and deeper, and deeper, sent him roaring into a frenetic pace. Your hand clasping your lower belly had sent him spiralling. If his other hand hadn't held your hip so tightly, you'd have been fucked up the table.

And despite the mind-numbing force of his thrusts, you still, with every scrap of you, knew that he was making love to you, and not just fucking you. It made no difference, in the end, your voice growing in volume until it was nothing more than whimpered, mewling cries, only wishing you could have a name upon your tongue instead.

Stilted with the force of his thrusts, he blessed you with it.

"Say...say my name..."

"I will I will just give it to me gimme your name--"

"Kento--"

"--o-ooohh, f-fuck, Kento, harder--"

The cry that left his chest was visceral, animalistic, wrenched out of him with the same sudden finality as his orgasm. You felt him fold over you, his hands gripping your ribcage, his cock jolting and twitching within you as the heavy, obscenely long ejaculation that you knew so well, filled your pussy instead of your mouth.

"--unh...unh...haah...aaa-aahhh never...never gonna come like that-- e-ever again...that was it, that was the...the one that'll end me-- fuck...darling..."

Your suited man's bucks grew lazy, his torso almost completely blanketing yours, humping away the last vestiges of his orgasm. He stayed nestled within you, unwilling to let you go yet. You reached through the curtain, stroking a hand through his hair, and hearing him purr.

"...Kento, huh?"

He huffed a laugh. "Sorry, I...was that too intimate?"

"That? You're worried that was the intimate part?"

He laughed, rich and deep and genuine, kissing your ribs once more. You heard him reach into his pocket, and you spoke up, immediate.

"I won't let you pay me for that--"

"--I absolutely fucking am--"

"--no you are not--"

After he won the argument, and left with heavy reluctance, your manager pulled you aside with a dirty grin.

"You were popular tonight. How many men? Ten? Twelve?"

You blinked, confused.

"Just...just the one. Right at the end."

Your manager shook his head, turning back to the TV in his grubby little office, his fingers orange with Cheeto dust. Your brain ticked, and whirred...all the mumbling outside your gloryhole. All the murmurs, men almost visiting before moving on...and it clicked with absolute certainty.

Your suited man had guarded your gloryhole all night, paying other men to choose another woman. To choose anyone but you.

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"I worried you wouldn't be here."

You swallowed, sniffling, and settling behind your wall. More terrible monsters had settled around the building, blocking almost every pathway in, and you knew that you'd have abandoned your shift and run home to hide, if not for the hope of hearing your suited man again.

"You're...crying, my love, why are you crying?"

You felt him stiffen against the other side of the wall, at the sound of your sniffle, and his hand automatically reached through to cup your face, his thumb swiping away your tears. You turned your cheek into his palm, holding his hand against you.

Your gaze turned to the doorway...and to the bug-eyed, many-armed, puce coloured spindly monster leaning around it to stare at you.

You shrieked, crashing against your wall in terror. Your suited man took in a sharp breath, and the normal chatter and movement of the room quieted at your cry. Your suited stranger grasped your hand hard to hold you still, and his voice dropped to a horrified whisper.

"Stop-- oh, fuck, I understand-- your monsters-- can you see that? That thing in the doorway?"

Time slowed. Your jaw dropped. Your voice was thick, quiet, your insanity validated for the first time in your life.

"Kento, you...see it too?"

"Oh fuck. This...this is why you're in this place? Never been able to hold down a job, no? You've never felt safe anywhere?"

You could do nothing but weep into his palm, nodding, and nodding, and nodding. His voice rang, deep and commanding and final.

"I've got you. I...I've got you. You're safe. Just come with me."

"Kento, I can't just walk out--"

"You can. You don't need money. I've got enough. You just need...you just need me. I'll...I'll tell you everything. I'll explain everything."

When your face, tearstained and sniffling, leaned around the edge of your wall, you froze. Kento froze.

The silence was thick with wonderment, already in love before you had even seen each others' faces. But now that you saw him (obscenely handsome, tall, kind-eyed and exhausted), already overwhelmed, a sob bubbled over--

"Oh, god, you're so out of my league--"

A scoff, and adoration burning in his tired, under-shadowed eyes. He held out one hand, rescuing you as you'd rescued him.

"Come. I have some calls to make. You can tell me your name over dinner."

Your feet were numb as Kento walked you past the monster, shielding your fearful gaze with his hand. You ignored the shouts of your managers, half-deaf and stunned. In the chill evening air, his arm that was not around you, reached into his pocket, tapping, before holding a phone to his ear.

"Gojo, it's Nanami...why are you laughing?"

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Miguel’s Reaction to You Calling Him a DILF

Warnings: Implied Smut, Dominant Miguel, Profanity, Use of ‘Daddy’, Lyla Trying Her Best <3, Fem Reader.

Despite spending every day with Lyla, an absolutely chronically online AI, Miguel knows little in the way of internet jargon.

Thus, this term - DILF - is one he’s never come across before. Namely because Lyla has never seen it fit to implement it into a conversation.

But, when Miguel overheard you calling him your “Favourite DILF; just a gorgeous, scrumptious specimen,” he had to ask Lyla to translate for him.

Miguel swore he could see her eyes widen, her brow stiffen and crease.

“It’s…it’s — uh — well…”

Lyla scratched the back of her head, her stare sloping off to the side — away from Miguel’s cattish stare. Her teeth gritted, a gateway, a preventative measure to ensure your safety and wellbeing. The only barrier between your open secret and miguel’s discovery of it.

“Oh, come on, Lyla,” Miguel crossed his arms over his chest, as if to inhibit the anxiety starting to bloom there. He doubted that you’d ever bad-mouth him, especially given how close the two of you were, but Lyla’s apprehension was starting to spark some doubts. Regardless, he persevered, kept his stare hard and neutral. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It..it means…” Lyla sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses. She didn’t look up at Miguel, instead finding you in her mind’s eye and cursing you. And wishing the best for your safety.

“Dad I’d like to fuck.”

She came out with it, the words almost poisonous and sour on her tongue as they passed through. And the fact that she’d had to say them to Miguel of all people didn’t help.

At first, Miguel didn’t think he’d heard Lyla correctly, his posture and face remaining unchanged in the fallout of his discovery.

It was only after three seconds passed, four, five, that he truly heard — understood — what Lyla had said.

“Oh.”

A warmth bled across Miguel’s face, a creeping blush hidden only by the console’s yellow hue. Without another word, Mifuel turned tail, unfurling his arms, unravelling to his broadest potential. He began his descent, his destination clear as day in his mind’s eye.

Lyla’s’s eyes widened further, almost bulging from her head. She called, stammering: “(Y-Y/N) probably didn’t mean it! Not like that! So-so don’t go too hard on ‘er, okay?”

Miguel searched the entire facility for you, his face a concoction of emotions nobody (save for yourself) had ever seen before, thus making his mood indecipherable to all that were not you.

He eventually found you, isolated, in a room. Practically begging for what was to come next. He slipped inside, closed the door behind him.

You turned and smiled, sensing Miguel’s presence; the impression of authority.

“Hey, Miggy!” you chimed, eyes crescents. You turned back to checking off your stock list, paying little heed to the shadow advancing on you.

“Playing innocent, I see,” Miguel’s voice swooped and glided as the greatest bird of prey does, coming to stand mere centimetres behind you, his warmth at your back; a dark sun.

“I thought you’d be at home, caring for our child.” His hands came to sit on your shoulders, heavy and large. For a second, you were befuddled, believing Miguel to be spinning you a riddle. Then, realisation. Your heart dropped; you knew Miguel could feel it. Oh my God, Lyla.

“We…don’t have a child, Miguel,” you laughed, humourless and breathy. You knew you had to play your cards right. Carefully. Miguel gave a heavy, brief chuckle.

“Not yet,” he squeezed your shoulders, hands slipping down the length of your arms, the feeling of spiders creeping along your skin. “But seeing as you’re so keen on calling me daddy, I see no harm in pretending.”

His lips came to your neck, pressing deceptively soft kisses there. 

You were frozen, though a fire stoked within you. One you couldn’t bring yourself to put out.

“After all, I am your DILF, aren’t I?”

You bit your lip, eyes squeezing shut as Miguel’s hands slid to your waist, pulling your back to his front where you felt something thick and large and bulging against your tailbone.

“A baseless accusation, don’t you think ?”

Your breath shuttered. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing—“

“It doesn’t matter how you meant it. What matters is it’s inaccurate,” Miguel spoke with a stoic logic you’d seen one too many times. He pulled you to him, tighter, closer, his heart pounding against your back.

“But, luckily for you, I’m in a giving mood. I’m not going to punish you for your little transgression. Instead, I’m going to give you an out.” He descended upon your skin again, nipping it between his blunted teeth, the threat of his fangs in your periphery.

“What…what’s that?” You almost didn’t want to ask, your heart creeping up your throat as if to muffle your words.

Miguel’s hand slipped from your waist, sliding sharp fingers down the expanse of your back, leaving trails of goosebumps. You felt his hand come between where the most prominent part of himself and you connected, his knuckles digging into the small of your back. He ran a hand over himself through his suit, palmed himself. His eye twitched. “You just have to be a good girl and lay down and take whatever I give you until I say we’re done.”

His grip on you tightened. You could feel how dark his gaze had become, weighing heavy on you like a robe.

You said nothing – could say nothing.

“Now, you wanna say that again,” his voice was muffled by your skin, his kisses becoming wetter, languid. He pushed himself against you, taking you by the hips and pulling you so he caught you just right. You spied his eye twitch in the reflection of the filing cabinet across from you as you cracked an eye open, a steady redness overtaking Miguel’s stare, his lips turning up at the corners, revealing his fangs.

“Or are you gonna keep that pretty little mouth shut and make me into a real daddy ?”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[honeylullaby]

My dirtiest thoughts I present to thee my dearest:

Declan in full munch mode making direct eye contact whilst licking his moustache and diving back in!

Look at me no longer anonymous and a complete pig! I can only apologise…

💕💕💕

GORGEOUS idea my darling 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽 declan o’hara is the biggest, most generous munch, pass it on x

“How does it feel, my girl?”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by one’s own heart 🩷 / Declan shows you how much he appreciates you…

18+ FANFIC / SMUT from the offset & gorgeously angsty. Shortish I suppose? Reader character aged at 21. As always, request what you wanna see in my ask box 💋

Lately, life had been hard. Work was growing increasingly tense and arduous. Declan had been putting so much labour into Venturer that he had barely had time to look at you, let alone touch you. However, you were sat at your dinner table, amethyst pleated skirt falling softly at your knees, and sipping from a mug of sweet hot chocolate, laden with marshmallows. “Evenin’, babe.” The Irishman huffed, making his way into the dining room and throwing his briefcase by his feet. “Hello.” You sulk, briefly checking the time on your wrist watch. 7pm — an early finish by Declan’s standards.

“Please don’t. I’m not in the fuckin’ mood tonight.” He groans, massaging his brutish fingers into his eyes and pushing out an exasperated sigh. “You’re not in the mood? I’ve barely seen you this week, I’m starting to think you and Rupert have some secret affair going on.” You roar, slamming both hands against the darkened oak of your dining table. Declan laughed sardonically and pointed a finger at you before he spoke. “Who do you t’ink is payin’ the bills for this place? Because it’s not you, sittin’ around drinkin’ fuckin’ hot chocolate all day.” And the words sound bitter and vulgar leaving his mouth — an amalgamation of sarcasm and utter poison.

Shaking your head in disbelief and not dignifying him with a response, you keep azure eyes affixed on him as he walks towards you, lowering himself to his knees. “What are you doing?” You ask, as he lifts your pleated skirt away from your knees and balls it up at your hips. “No pants?” He questions with a smirk, and you begin to shuffle your pelvis forward, you allow him access to your wet spot. “I’m sorry for not bein’ around. I wanna show ya’ how much ya’ mean to me.” And with that, his pointed tongue was lapping at your clit, first drawing tender circles across your pink bud and paying close attention to your breathless moans.

When he was sufficiently pleased that you were worked up enough, he delved his tongue deeper, working fervently at your swollen clit and making you whimper in ecstasy. Declan kept his chocolate orbs fixed on yours — the unwavering eye contact providing you with additional pleasure. He pulled away from your cunt momentarily and ran his fatigued tongue across his mahogany ‘tash, savouring every sweet droplet of your wetness from the bristles. The provocative sight made your thighs tense, clit pulsating in lust for the Irishman. “How does it feel, my girl?” He asked in a guttural, coarse tone. “So fucking good.” You pant, and he wastes no time in diving back in, taking your clit between his lips and sucking softly, making you sob with sensitivity and keep a hand firmly clasped to the back of his head.

The feral way in which he flicked at your cunt drove you ever closer to orgasm, rhythmic lashings of his hot tongue driving untamed bucking from your hips. “Fuck, Declan, I’m gonna cum.” You spit out, clenching fistfuls of his brunette hair. Your lustful moans accelerated, and you came into your lover’s mouth, deafening moans accompanying it. Declan slowly pulled away, a string of wetness attaching itself to his moustache that he promptly cleaned up with the tip of his tongue. “I love the taste of your cum.” He muttered in a hushed tone, and you feverishly grin back, still pulsating from your orgasm.

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Against the Kitchen Floor (Will Wood)

And I swear! I will die trying!/I'm still in the process, but I'm making progress; I promise I honestly wanna prove improvement's possible, I swear!/I'm so fucking sorry! I'm not a good person, I'm barely a person at all, But someday I'll be perfect, and I'll make up for it all!

Less rare than scarce, less diamond then rough/Unlikely to be more than just the coal you failed to crush

I'm catatonic in your arms, crying, "How did I cause so much harm?"/I'm down pounding my head against the kitchen floor/Apologizing for my life and ever entering yours

The vertex of my redemption arc/I’m searching on that virgin heart

"The raw emotion! And I strongly relate to desperately wanting to improve for someone you love. I belt out this song when I feel really hopeless"

"my one OC. also me. also it's just a really good song. one of will's best imo. screaminbg"

"Literally hits almost all of my self-esteem issues. Feeling like people only care about you for your body? Check. Not understanding why anyone would want you? Check. Thinking that all you do is hurt people? Check. I don't cry very often but this song DEFINITELY made me teary"

"one of those if u aren’t paying attention to the lyrics ur like this is nice but once u hear them its an OW holy OW and guilt and I’m sorry feelings"

"Just. Loving someone but not feeling like you’re good enough and trying to improve."

"Not only does this song have lyrics that are deeply relatable to me, but this song also feels very deeply personal to the artist and I feel that anyone who listens to it for the first time has that same feeling of getting punched in the gut. Just the lyrics and the melody and Will Wood’s vocals make this song an absolute masterpiece and I cry every time I hear it."

"One reason I'm attached to this song is because my friend sent it to me and said "I'm kin assigning you this song" and ruined my life (/j) It messed me up because I've always had a hard time in my life figuring myself out and dealing with my emotions, and for what feels like the first time, this song has been able to near perfectly describe how I feel about myself and my impact on other people, and it always just meant so much to me that my friend who sent it to me knows me better than I know myself and shared the song with me and I love them dearly."

Tongues and Teeth (The Crane Wives)

If you're fine with that you can be mine.... I WILL POISON ALL YOUR HAPPY THOUGHTS!/I WILL LOVE YOU LIKE THE ASHES IN MY CIGARETTE BOX!

I've grown a mouth so sharp and cruel/It's all that I can give to you, my dear/And when you come in quick to steal a kiss/My teeth will only cut your lips, my dear

And I know that you mean so well/But I am not a vessel for your good intent

"I quote the above passage."

"It sounds happy until you listen to the lyrics and then you're like. Oh"

"Can I submit The Crane Wives whole catalog? Just every song they've ever made? Tongues & Teeth is so good tho so I'll make it my flagship, its both so personal and so universal cause you can interpret it in so many ways to apply it to so many blorbos. I've applied it to 10 and it fits and hits different every time. Absolutely Iconic song."

Against the Kitchen Floor submitted by @pixopolis + others

Tongues and Teeth submitted by @they-thespian666 + others

[dunebrat]

FORBIDDEN HEIR ˚ ♡ ˚

Feyd Rautha x reader

Summary : you find yourself trapped in a loveless marriage to Glossu Beast Rabban, a man whose brutality knows no bounds. Unable to bear him an heir, you turn to Feyd Rautha, in a desperate bid to secure your position within the ruthless Harkonnen house

ㅤ────────────────────────

As a year passed since your marriage to Glossu Beast Rabban, whispers began to swirl among the women of the court. Their curious glances and subtle inquiries cut deeper than any blade, their judgment heavy in the air like a suffocating fog. You, younger than your husband and eager to prove your worth, felt the weight of their scrutiny like a leaden burden upon your shoulders. Each passing day brought with it a new wave of gossip, their tongues wagging with speculation and thinly veiled accusations.

"Why hasn't she borne him an heir yet?"

"Is she barren, or just unwilling to fulfill her duty?"

"She's too young to understand the importance of her role."

Their words stung like venom, poisoning the fragile bond between you and Glossu. As the months pass by, your husband becomes increasingly frustrated by your inability to conceive. He watches as other noble families celebrate the arrival of heirs, while the halls of the Harkonnen palace remain devoid of the pitter-patter of tiny feet. "Why have you not given me an heir yet?" he demands, his voice laced with anger and disappointment.

You feel a pang of guilt and shame as his accusatory gaze falls upon you. You know the truth that it's not for lack of trying, but rather a cruel twist of fate that has left you barren. You try to explain, to reassure him that you are doing everything in your power to fulfill your duty, but Glossu's fury knows no bounds. "You are worthless to me if you cannot bear me a child!" he bellows, his words echoing through the palace corridors.

You shrink back, feeling the weight of his words like a physical blow. You have devoted yourself to him, to the Harkonnen name, and yet it seems that will never be enough. Women were

Later that night with trembling hands and a heart heavy with guilt, you approached Feyd-Rautha. His aura, both dark and dangerous, sent shivers down your spine. But this was your last chance for a child, a flicker of hope in a sea of despair. "Please," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, "it's not Glossu's fault. Your brother's health that stands in our way. I beg of you, Feyd, help me conceive an heir or I will be sent away if I cannot do this"

His gaze bore into yours, a calculating glint betraying the mask of indifference he wore. Silence hung in the air. Then, with a tilt of his head and a ghost of a smile, Feyd-Rautha spoke, his voice like velvet wrapped around steel. "I'll consider your proposal, but remember, my dear sister-in-law, every deal with the devil comes with its price."

"I understand. Whatever the cost, I am willing to pay it." You responded

He smirks as he turns to leave, you're left alone with your thoughts

Later that night you found yourself underneath him, his cock pounding into you as he took what was rightfully yours. You could feel the power and dominance of him inside you, claiming your body for himself.

He wanted to breed you, to make you his. And as he continued to fuck you with a primal intensity, it was clear that this wasn't just about sex for him-it was an act of possession and control. He wanted to own you, and he was going to take what he thought belonged to him. He went for hours claiming you as your husband was away on another planet handling business. Taking you in every position and using your body for his own pleasure. He doesn't care about your needs or desires-he just wants to use you as a vessel for his lustful urges.

He cums inside you

you feel his hot seed fill your womb. He collapses on top of you, breathing heavily as he tries to catch his breath. You lay there beneath him, feeling the weight of his body pressing down upon yours. You can feel his heart beating against your chest, and you know that he is still inside of you. He slowly pulls out of you with a soft moan as the last drops of cum drip from him onto you.

He rolls off of you and lays next to you, his breathing still heavy. You lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath as well. You can feel his cum dripping out of you, and it's a strange feeling. It feels like he has claimed your body as his own-like this is what was always meant to be between the two of you. You reach down and touch your pussy, feeling the wetness of his cum on you. It's a strange sensation-one that is both comforting and exciting at the same time.

The affair between you and Feyd unfolded as the nights passed, your meetings became bolder. As the weeks passed, a wave of nausea washed over you, leaving you weak and trembling in its wake.

Desperate for relief, you sought solace in the chambers of the healers, their gentle ministrations offering fleeting respite from the relentless onslaught of sickness. Yet, despite their best efforts, the cause of your affliction remained a mystery, shrouded in uncertainty and fear. Then, one fateful day, Glossu's booming voice echoed through the halls of the stronghold, his announcement sending shockwaves through the court like a bolt of lightning on a clear day.

"Gather round, my loyal subjects," he declared, his voice ringing with pride and triumph. "For it brings me great joy to announce that my beloved wife is with child."

A chorus of cheers erupted from the assembled crowd, their cries mingling with the pounding of your heart as you stood frozen in disbelief.

A knowing smirk tugged at the corners of Feyd's lips as you make eye contact with the true father of your child

Part 2 coming soon 𓏲◜ 🎀

[vifilms]

#002 CHARMER AND THE SNAKE.

❝ ABBY!ANDERSON SERIES ❞

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: camgirl!abby, jealousy themes, dom!reader, messy reader, slight dub-con (alchohol involved by both parties), tw #strapsex, spitting, use of vibrator, fingering, cunnilingus. i promise the slow burn will pay off, and abby will be doing camgirl things next chapter. okieee hope you like this byeeee :')

....AND THEY WERE ROOMATES, she’s always been just abby to you. best friends and thick as thieves. sweet as can be, breathing shy naivety with each one she takes — a walking angel on earth. a gentle reminder of what’s good but looks can be so convincing….can’t they?

wc. 3k

Abby has to pretend it doesn’t hurt. That she feels nothing at all. Even if it’s not true, it’s what she tells herself to help her sane…whole…as mentally sound as she could be. The smell of booze, weed, and sweat fills the room. You didn’t want her to come tonight, insisted you did once you’d been caught and now Abby knows why. It feels more wounded knowing this is what you wanted tonight, why you dressed so nice tonight, splitting Abby into two. 

With an anxious mind, Abby wonders what she did to deserve this. As you cling onto the woman like a vice, your tongue getting lost in her mouth as you pull on her hair, the girl’s back arching as you do so, molding herself to your touch. The black mini skirt your paramour wore riding up so high, her ass nearly full on display but she didn’t really care, not when you were making her feel like that. More than the sharpest blade, it guts her when your head tilts back as the mysterious nips and sucks at your neck, making you moan in the process. 

Abby swallows the poison as it deteriorates her from the inside out. Swallowing her whole as she watches you with someone else. Pretending to have a facade is one thing, but actually being convinced of it is another. Whether it’s you, herself, or both? She’s not sure. 

It’s clear as day, as crystal as the reflection in her window, why you didn’t want her here. The slight argument the two of you had divulged right before you arrived here confused her in all honesty. Truthfully, she wasn’t supposed to see you and your companion tucked in a small corner in the basement. Your body framed against the wall as the woman grinds against you, using your thigh to get off. 

You. 

Discomfort fills her immensely, watching you with someone else. Even if she should feel happy for you, you’re her best friend, she can’t. She won’t. The jealousy courses through her veins, especially when you moan into the mysterious woman’s mouth as the succubus sinks into your neck. Tilting your head back with your eyes shut, you let the stranger grope your ass through the fabric of your trousers. 

Abby doesn’t know what’s worse. You’re not noticing her presence or the fact she’s being subjected to watch. Tragically distracted, Abby doesn’t notice the men circling around her. Until they are in her face trying to get the blonde’s attention. It makes her feel uneasy. 

Undeniably, the men flirt with her as if they are owed pieces of her, scrambling for an inch of the shy girl, the one no one seems to want. She knows the interest only takes place under her guise of experience, more so lack thereof. 

With their overzealous palms, sinful hands paw at her as if these men are owed pieces of her, tugging on her blonde braid, touching her arm — anyone could see how uncomfortable she’s become. Abby isn’t one to pay attention to, not at all really, it’s not until she says no again does it catch your attention. Unintentionally, she’s loud about it, without even meaning to be. Now, you feel completely sober. Even if your lips and neck are slightly stained with lipstick from the woman who was dry humping you until kingdom come, you could hear Abby’s cries in a sea of a thousand cries. 

With a heavy foot, she charges at them, shoving the man pack slightly. 

“She said fucking no.” You practically bite at the group. 

“We’re just messing around. Tell your little watchdog they can back down.” 

You take a step forward to knock the little bitch off his feet, but Abby catches your wrist before your fist could fully swing.  

“It’s not worth it. Can we just go?” Reluctantly, you nod but before the threat leaves your lips. “Touch her again and you’ll fucking regret it.” 

Sliding your hand into hers, you shoulder check the two men, making them split while you have Abby in tow. Abby turns to see the death glare of the century being passed her way, the girl you had just been exchanging tonsils with not believing you had left for well — Abby. 

Now with her face visible, you can see her clear as day, Francesca. More difficult than before, Abby finds it even more difficult to not let her heart swarm with envy especially when it comes to someone she can’t stand at all. Francesca is everything she’s not. The brunette oozes the confidence, the blueprint of extraordinary femininity. When she walks into a room, everyone turns to look at her. Unlike how Abby standardly feels, entirely visible from her. Easily, the blonde blends in every room she steps foot in, her thick sweaters and pants with her plain sneakers don’t leave much to remember. 

Then, there is Francesca. 

Everyone knows from the moment she steps in, she’s the hottest woman there. With her short skirts exhibiting her undeniable ass, her perky tits she always loves to put on display, and then there’s that goddamn smile. As if it was created by the finest god themselves, she can lure anyone into her venus trap and she damn near has. In the final year of uni, Francesca has been hellbent on you. Dropping and closing out the bar that you work at, Abby has even seen it herself a few times. 

It was easy to spot. Abby had even seen Francesca undo multiple buttons when she noticed you were here, you take it with grace, always politely declining saying you aren’t interested. Was this just all for show? Did you not want her to know your true intentions so you keep buried and concealed from her prying eyes? Clearly, you were interested in the perfectly put together princess. Abby really couldn’t even blame you, Francesca was the one of the most beautiful women she’s ever seen and Francesca didn’t give up until she had what she wanted. 

An insatiable need you seemed willing to fill tonight, the stars aligned for the siren, getting off on your thighs before you were so rudely interrupted, in her hazel eyes anyways. Abby didn’t really understand why you stopped what you were doing, she could handle herself with ease. The last thing she needed was an upset Francesca with a new target for her unhinged rage. 

As you pull her outside, the abandoned patio and the steady fire raging in the autumn air, instantly she checks if you’re alright. Deeply, Abby hates how she can smell Francesca. It’s not your scent comforting her it’s the woman you would have fucked in the nearest bathroom if she hadn’t been so loud, interrupting you in the process. Would you have bent her over the counter, stuffing her fingers full of you? Or maybe you would have sunk to your knees with your mouth latched onto her clit as you praised the succubus at the altar of your sins. 

Even if she knows she shouldn’t, Abby pokes at the bear. 

“I’m fine. You can go back to Francesca, I’m fine.” Abby bites, trying to conceal the sharpness in her tone, but she does nothing but expose it. 

“I might’ve believed you if you hadn’t said it twice.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t want to be with her. I’m surprised your tongue didn’t get sucked into her mouth permanently.” 

It’s dangerous for Abby to say these things. To let her anger show in front of you so clearly like this. If she wants to preserve the relationship you have with each other, she really should do a better job at disguising how she feels. The jealousy is bleeding green, her blood dripping all over you, staining you until you have to scrub out every last drop. Hearing you moan her name possessed her with a claim she shouldn’t have over you but now she can’t stop herself from branding you as hers. 

— 

Even you had to admit, things had gotten out of hand. You’d been so hellbent on getting Abby out of your mind, needing a break from her constant, figurative teasing, the repetitive dreams she kept having of your best friend. You need to get her out of your system but it was just your luck she had seen you with someone else. The stupidly cute pout, lips turned downwards perfectly as she fails to hide how she truly feels. 

”It’s fine. I’m just going to take an uber and go home. I’m sorry for ruining your night.” Abby gets up but you follow her, not wanting her to be alone when she’s this upset. 

“You didn’t ruin anything.” You try to convince her but she’s not really listening, her mind is far gone — away from you.

“I think I just wanna be alone. It’s been a long week anyways, probably wasn’t a great idea to come out, you know?” You nod at her words, watching as she leaves. You should have gone after her but you don’t. Ever since you saw her in a way you shouldn’t, everything between the two of you has been rocky. A dynamic shift you weren’t quite prepared for. You think about leaving, the rest of the night will just be a bust, you grab another drink. Trying to drown your senses in shitty alcohol, just enough for you to not hate yourself for making her feel like shit. 

Thankfully you’re walking out of the house party but Francesca finds you before you can. It’s her home, her space, and it would be so fucking easy. There’s no denying, clearly, you’d been all over. It wasn’t just tonight either. “C’mon, you can’t leave now! The party’s just starting.” 

“I’m pretty beat, might just call it a night.” 

“How about one more drink? Can’t leave without having a drink with the host.” Meticulously, she places a hand on your sternum before pulling you towards her by the waistband of your trousers. Maybe she can help you forget about all of it and you’re too weak to say no. 

You should leave. You really should. 

“Alright, one more couldn’t hurt.” 

Three tequila shots in, for the two of you, is all it takes. Francesca‘s kind enough to lend you a harness and dildo so you can fuck her pretty face into the mattress. You slap her ass as you deliver a particularly hard thrust of your cock, watching her pretty cunt swallow you whole. It’s sloppy, wet, and fuck is she the perfect little slut for you. Deliciously, she meets your thrusts as she fucks her ass back onto your baby blue cock. The harness creates just enough friction each time she back up on you, rubbing against your clit as she does. 

“God, I didn’t think you’d be this good.” Francesca can’t help but look back at you and she’s glad she does. It’s just in time to see you spit on her pucker hole, teasing her lightly with your thumb. Grabbing a hold of her hips, making sure your grip is firm as you pull her back over and over, making the pretty brunette take every single inch of you. 

“What was that? I don’t think I heard you.” Francesca slumps, her moans could be heard throughout the house, you’re sure and fuck is your ego incredibly stroked as you make the girl everyone wants to fuck see stars. “You know what you’ve been doing, chasing me down, not letting me leave. Stupid brat. Couldn’t leave without feeling me inside you, huh?” 

“Yes, yes!” Francesca screams, wanting every in the house to know you’re the one fucking her. She’s lost in the moans you’re giving her, she feels so close, so fucking close to cuming all over your cock. No one has ever fucked her to bliss so quickly, she can practically taste the orgasm on the tip of her tongue. Francesca needs it more than the air she breathes. 

But you slip out of her, maneuvering her body so she’s on her back, you suck on her tits, marking them up as she arches into you. Francesca bucks her hips into as she grips onto your hair and pulls. “What’d you stop?” 

You don’t answer her. Not verbally. 

Grabbing her legs, you lift lightly and push forward, “Grab them.” Her knees land near her head as Francesca is fully exposed for you. 

Maybe this is what you need to get Abby out of your mind. Just one fucking night of rough fucking to get you off her mind. So, it’s what you do. Sinfully, you spit on her dripping cunt, enjoying the way her body shivers. With your fingers, you let them slip into her folds, she’s so wet, you slip right in. Her cunt takes your fingers with ease, she whimpers the moment you’re penetrating her with skilled fingers. Carefully using your thumb, you circle her clit, Francesca squirming for more. More fingers, more of your cock — she’s not sure which she needs but she’s craving to come undone around you. 

“Such a pretty cunt you have, huh?” In your drunken haze, the lines begin to blur, and all you are golden waves and bright eyed blues staring right back at you. You imagine these are her tits, your ass, and her pussy. All of it belongs to her, it isn’t Francesca, it’s Abby. Doubling down on your pace, you fuck her like your life depends on it. Francesca is just as inebriated as you, not caring about anything but you bringing her body to the edge she so desperately craves. It’s criminal how much she needs to cum in your mouth, on your face, and wants you to swallow every last drop. 

But you have something different in mind. 

Your fingers slip out of her before they are replaced with your cock, spreading her legs so she’s folded in half, her legs in the air as you split her pussy, coaxing it to bend to your will. Her furrowed eyebrows and pout reminds you of Abby, how she takes it in your dreams with no questions asked. It’s what you crave but you’ll settle for another pretty girl, even if it’s not the one you want. You’d ruin Abby, destroy her precious heart into a million pieces without even trying to. 

The girl beneath you? You’re more than willing to break her down into nothing. Truth be told, you could care less if she likes you or not, you just need to fuck your need for Abby out of your system. If you’re getting your fill elsewhere, you’ll be able to control yourself. Right? 

With a firm grip on the headboard, you plow into her like she’s the farmer’s daughter, her grip barely able to hold her legs together as Francessa's head slumps into an awkward angle. The sound of the headboard hitting her wall makes her cunt gush with need, she feels it dripping off her ass, her slick being fucked out of and into her at the same time. 

“I-I need to c-cum. Please.” 

“Do you think you’ve earned it?” You slap her clit, enjoying the way her entire body shakes. 

“I’ve been good, so good for you. Don’t you hear how good I’ve been.” The weeping cries from her pussy are even louder. You know she’s close. It won’t be long before she comes around your cock. 

“Yeah, you have been good, huh? Then be a good girl and cum around my cock.” 

Francesca needs nothing else. Swiftly, her arms circle around your neck, bringing your lips to hers as she cums, shoving her tongue down your throat she moans into your mouth as you fuck her through her euphoric high. You think that’ll be the end of it, you slip out of her as you take the harness off but she pushes you to lay back on the bed. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Making you cum, obviously.” 

“You really don’t have to I’m—” She slurps at your cunt like it’s her last meal, shutting you up in the process. “You were saying?” 

Your silence is answer enough as you thread your fingers through her hair, shoving her face in your cunt as she sucks your bundle of nerves into her swollen lips. Giving the wanted pearl all the affection in the world, starting off the small kitten licks and sucks until she’s tasting your divine slick, letting it coat her tongue entirely.

Francesca halts for a moment, grabbing the vibrator on the dresser, before holding it to your clit. Her gleeful smile is wicked as she watches you, whimpers slipping off your tongue as she lets you ride her fingers. “Yeah, I’m not just a pretty face, baby.” 

The setting starts off slow, tedious, but then the kinky brunette amps up the speed. 

“Do you want another finger, baby?” 

“Yes.” You cry out, she slips another inside you, deliciously pressing on the spot deep within you. Once she’s found it, she continues to press on it over, and over, and over. 

“So confident all the time but you’re really just a moaning bitch who likes to be fucked?” 

“Watch it.” You demand. 

“Or what?” 

With a wild smirk, her eyes blissed out as she watched the goddess beneath her buck her hips, she maxed out of the speed on the vibrator until it’s buzzing on your clit. It’s the final nail in the coffin to send you into overdrive. You have no control over your entire body as it you seize and moan, unable to stop yourself from the not so subtle cry. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck……Abbyyyyyy.” 

Francesca doesn’t freeze, doesn’t even push away from you like you half expect her to. No, she doesn’t do any of it. All she does is fuck you through your high, allowing you the same kind of pleasure you granted her. Your eyes shut the entire time as you imagine your best friend, the one person you can’t have, bringing you to completion. Eventually, Francesca lets off, walking to her closet to slip shirt on before she straddles your waist as if moaning another woman’s name means nothing. 

“Sorry, I don’t know I—” You began to reason, trying to come up with some type of excuse as to why her name name slipped out of you and instead of the women who was just fucking you. 

“It’s innocence of her, isn’t it? The blue doe-eyes looking up at you as if you created the world just for her to exist in it.” She plays with your tits as she talks to you, fuck, why is this so hot? “She follows you around like a lost puppy, begging to be saved.” 

“Don’t talk about her.” Harshly, you bite back. The protective instinct you have for Abby is a necessary reflex, you don’t like anyone speaking about her, regardless of how much you want to fuck Francesca again. “You don’t know anything about her.” 

Neither did you really. She wasn’t innocent she clearly loves to fuck, while others watched and you’re the one who can’t handle it. Francesca won’t know the truth about it. No one will, not even the woman who’s been occupying all your time, even if you’ve been avoiding her, trying to worm your way out of being close to her — Abby remains on your mind. 

Constantly. 

“I know girls like her, that’s enough. She wouldn’t be able to handle you even if she gave it her best shot.” You push her off of you as you begin to dress yourself, but right before you excuse yourself out to give a curt goodbye. Francesca, like the minx she is, spread her legs wide, a perfect angle of her pussy for you to devour. “I’ll see you the next time you need to forget about her.” 

With a clear eye roll from her, you slam the door on your way out, trying to forget this ever fucking happened.

—

taglist: @hypnagogics @brackishkittie @only4theweeknd @tlouloser @marvelwomenarehot0 @grey-jedi12 @bittersu1te @pxgeturner @maxinephobia @marsworlddd @aouiaa @mytwoseater @cherrybunny @twopeoplee @i-lov3-w0men @lvlymicha @half-of-a-gay @pa-co @rkivedpages @abbyspup @lucidfairies @vxqen @liizzygrant @ivka165-blog @wifeoftish @wildcatsgs @skzhoiic @angelynn-nicole @hearts4joongie @ellieschoochieeater @loveyru @comiteuc7 @imdrowningindispair @swinesb @spacewlf @casszzine

hope you liked it! lmk what you think! ♡

[lonelypep]

every smash bros character ranked by how good of a cook i think they’d be.

82: piranha plant

eating this dish will kill you instantly. turns out he spit some poison in there while no one was looking. and yeah, that sucks, but if you even accepted a meal from this guy i think you have bigger problems

81: ridley.

let’s be real, if you let this guy into the kitchen, you made a huge mistake. it’s like john mulaney’s horse in a hospital sketch: you never know what he’s gonna do next. you’re too focused on getting him out.

80: king k rool.

king k rool is many things. a king, a pirate, a scientist. but he is not a cook. he’ll try, but he has literally no clue what he’s even doing in the kitchen.

79: yoshi

yoshi will give you a dish and you’ll be like “what the fuck is this” and he’ll talk about how it was made from the finest newborns of his home planet. i’m deciding to ignore it but it’s really nagging at me.

78: sonic

sonic shouldn’t be on this list. because he wouldn’t make you any food. he’ll go to the local sonic and get a burger in about 3 minutes. it sucks. disqualified.

77: pac man

what can i say. it tastes like literal plastic. i don’t even wanna know how he made it. i’ll give it back to him but the nice thing about pac man is he wouldn’t give a shit.

76: bowser jr.

fuck this guy. he rage quit at making a grilled cheese. now there’s a literal canonball in the stove. now no one else can use it!! this is what happens when you spoil kids.

75: pikachu/pichu

these two are in the same category since they’d make the same thing. they’d get store bought french fries and fry them with lighting outside. it’s consistent, it works, just not really filling. and they don’t know how to make anything else.

74. wario

don’t get me wrong: he knows what he’s doing. he’s the burger king of smash. he’s this low because the burger is the most unhealthy shit you’ll ever have. eating it gave you chronic diarrhea, gastrointestinal issues, and permanently damaged your taste buds. but god fucking damn was it a good burger.

73. hero

he gave you a single piece of bread with butter on it. it’s not bad but…really dude?

72: olimar

he didn’t make you a bad meal, in fact it was one of the best here. but that’s because he didn’t make you something. it was the pikmin and he’s trying to pass it off as his own and the pikmin don’t know because they don’t speak english. 0/10: not fucking cool dude.

71: kazuya

honestly? i don’t trust this guy. i was too intimidated to even ask his name. from what i can gather no one even invited him to the party he just showed up and made a mediocre meal. what’s weird: someone came into the kitchen and claimed this guy killed their whole family. we never saw that guy again. needless to say, kazuya wasn’t invited to the afterparty.

70: link (botw)

don’t get me wrong here, link is a five star chef. he’s just really unsanitary. apparently he cut the meat and vegetables with the same sword he killed calamity ganon with. i don’t wanna taste that guy!! have you seen him?? not to mention he pulled the meal out of his pants. i don’t even know how it fit in there.

69: inkling

she made a pancake and i thought it was good! but i absolutely can’t condone this. inkling left so much fucking weird slime and shit all over my house. and got really competitive when she heard i was getting meals from everyone else. i hope they’re all ok.

68: ROB

it was so processed. the most processed food i’ve ever had in my entire life. it’s not his fault, rob is a great guy. but this tasted like literally nothing.

67: ice climbers

when they told me they were making dessert, i trusted them. but i let someone else taste test first. my best friend was sent to the hospital because of tongue frostbite. didn’t even know that was a thing. i made the ice climbers pay for it (they’re fucking loaded)

66: villager

he made isabelle do it. and she made something great! but i’m not giving this cretin credit for having the money to afford a five star chef. you don’t deserve it because you sold a shit ton of tarantulas villager!!

65: lucario.

dude got really mad and destroyed my kitchen. he’s REALLY lucky he got the burger PERFECTLY cooked.

64: male byleth.

like this dude knows how to cook. he can barely make chicken nuggets. he has to eat in the school cafeteria simply because he never learned how to cook a simple meal. but he’s a really nice guy. total himbo. love him.

63: ryu

i asked this guy what he likes to eat. big mistake. he then went on to say that his training regiment doesn’t condone copious indulgence (his words) and he lives off of nothing but protein shakes. you do you i guess.

62-61: fox/falco

these two went into the kitchen and came out with weird alien food. i didn’t eat it but everyone else seemed to enjoy it

60: greninja

when he first came out i was so excited. he came out with the most finely sliced food i had ever seen in my entire life. but it was soooo watered down. everything tasted like celery. how do you make crab taste like celery?? how??!

59-58: simon/richter

these guys both made the same exact fish recipe, came out at the same time, and proceeded to fight each other. i didn’t get to try any 😭

57-49: every fire emblem character.

genuinely, i can’t tell these guys apart. or their food choices. honestly, my bad. i’m sure they’re good. but where do i even start.

48: sheik

she doesn’t know how to cook. she kidnapped someone else. normally i wouldn’t put someone like that this high but a. i have gender envy b. it’s for the greater good (or so she said)

47: cloud

dude made a great sandwich but he kept screaming random noises while he did. personally, i’m just glad he managed not to destroy the kitchen. that’s a first here.

46: captain falcon

he promised he’d pick up some pizza but got into a car crash on the way there. eventually he got there after the car crash was all sorted out, but got into ANOTHER on the way back. i’m honestly kind of impressed

45: steve

steve could cook an absolutely fucking KILLER meal. he’ll even offer to do it for free. but you shouldn’t let him under any circumstances. he took 13 hours gathering materials and while the wait was, arguably, worth it, i never want to experience it again. (side note: we asked captain falcon to get some pizza while waiting which led to the aforementioned entry)

44: sora

sora doesn’t know how to cook but he’s by far the biggest name at this party. everyone fucking loves him. he’s friends with GOOFY. this dude hangs out with GOOFY. this guys has hung out with GOOFY AND jack sparrow. bad food but i could listen to this guy talk for hours about his story. i’m sure i’ll understand it all.

43-40: pokémon trainer

this guys organization is fucking atrocious. if he can actually get his shit together he’ll cook up some nice vegetarian meals, but that’s a big if.

HONORABLE MENTION: sans mii gunner

sans undertale is a world renowned, famous chef. his recipes are simple, but cooked with such love, care, and finess it turns a simple cheeseburger into a masterpiece. sans undertale would easily top this list. sans mii gunner is not sans undertale. he bought the real sans’ cookbook and thinks he’s some kind of cooking genius. and sure he’s got the recipes but none of the skill to actually make it.

39-38: samus/zero suit samus

hooray! we’re out of bad cook options now. samus is a great cook, but she’s so used to her alien delicacies she doesn’t know how to cook on earth anymore. shame, but i trust her to produce something edible.

37: shulk

he is really good at the grill. unfortunately, he refused to put a shirt on and made everyone a little uncomfy. that being said, he showed me the beach boys and i had never listened to them before. so he gets points.

36-35: pit/dark pit

these guys don’t know how to cook but the flew into the sky and killed some mythical bird for everyone to eat. i couldn’t have any, i’m pescatarian, but everyone else loved it.

34: bayonnetta

she opened a portal to a waffle house and a bunch of demons came flying out. she didn’t make anything, but honestly, absolutely legendary experience that was.

33: duck hunt

you’d think a dog wouldn’t bring anything meaningful. this would be false. that is the freshest duck i’ve ever seen in my entire life. (didn’t eat it: pescatarian)

32: king dedede

he made his legendary homemade mashed potatoes. everyone loved them. so creamy… weirdly perfect. too bad i hate the monarchy. sorry bud.

31: meta knight

meta knight is a great cook and should be higher. but i don’t want him to be. because he’s so fucking pretentious. he sliced all the food in front of everyone and wouldn’t shut up about radiohead. hate this guy.

30-29: daisy/peach

these two put all their private chefs together to make something for everyone. great catering, great food, but they didn’t technically make it. love them.

28: mewtwo

as if mewtwo wouldn’t just read someone’s mind and cook something. but it’s not mewtwo’s food…so…. sorry dude you cheated.

27: dark samus

she really surprised me here. she cooked up the most exquisite alien delicacies i’ve ever tasted in my entire life. should be higher. but unfortunately, i had to get a space parasite removed from my system by regular samus. honestly though… it was worth it.

26: ganon

he was rude to everyone about his cooking skills and wouldn’t stop bragging. asshole am i right? but surprised everyone by grilling his god damn heart out. he’s a bad try hard but like go off i guess.

25: isabelle

she’s trying her absolute fucking best and she deserves the world here. amazing cook, we need to save her from the island.

24: little mac

dude went so hard. brought new york pizza ALL THE WAY FROM NEW YORK. ok, not literally, but he made a damn good pizza

23: snake

full disclosure: snake doesn’t know how to cook. also no one knows he’s an agent. but he has to cook to blend in so you BEST BELIEVE this man is going to COOK like his life depends on it.

22-20: young link, ness, and lucas

all these guys are incredibly mature for their age. surprised everyone at this party. i had deep and philosophical conversations with all of them about appreciating life. i fucking cried. oh and they made everyone sandwiches, and even took my pescatarianism into account.

19: rosalina

she brought weird space ice cream and i felt my mind expanding as i ate it. love her.

18: mr game and watch

he feels like everyone’s dad! and he’s one of those cooks who cooks in front of everyone. dude flung his meals onto everyone’s plates expertly. love him.

17: joker

originally much lower on this list, joker showed up at my house and attempted to make a grilled cheese and made the worst thing i’ve ever taste. then he said something about gru from despicable me and stood in the corner for an hour. originally i had him towards the bottom but then he doordashed five gigantic burgers, ate all of them in one sitting, and then made me an expensive curry that tasted fantastic. dude went hard.

it was at this point i realized i made a mistake with the numbers. like hell if i’m going to fix the whole thing.

22: zelda

she made some weird food but damn was it pretty to look at! crystals, magic power, i mean good vibes all around here.

21-20: pyra and mythra

i feel like i should put them here since they’re confirmed to be good cooks in the game. but between you and me, i didn’t invite them. i’d consider some entries before this to be better cooks but at this point i’ve been working on this list for 8 hours i do not wanna go back and fix things please i mean this whole list is a joke no one should take this seriously

19: banjo and kazooie

these guys can fucking cook. they’ve been living on their own for a while so it makes sense but it still surprises me. they made a really big stew and even brought free puzzle games.

18: wolf

GRILL MASTER. dude knows what he’s doing on that thing. i’ve never seen better spatula work. holy shit.

17: kirby

kirby came in with some weird blonde hair and made some FANTASTIC ribs (that i didn’t have bc i’m pescatarian). weirdly, gordon ramsey went missing the same day…. i’m sure it means nothing.

16: mario

dude made some absolutely spectacular spaghetti. but he kept talking about how great he is and it really off put some people. kinda weird dude.

15: dr mario. dude brought 50 apples to the potluck. guess he doesn’t wanna see anyone in the office. and he didn’t because we ate them all. take that.

14: min min

she brought some soup dumplings which a lot of people hadn’t had! love her. literally fantastic. she had a whole arm for cooking. that’s what we call efficient.

13: ken

he’s kenough. he is amazing at barbecue. he can cook things with his hands, juggle, also he’s just a fun presence. (i made him make fake meat burgers for me)

12: jigglypuff

she showed up with so many pastries. like so many. not only that, but they were decorative!! she put so much work into that. love her.

11: luigi

he tried to make spaghetti like his brother but a literal fucking meteor slammed into his pot and cracked it. tough luck. then he offered to pay and i refused, but went out and got me some really expensive spaghetti anyways! he’s such a nice guy!! shouldn’t be this high… but i love this guy so much. he’s trying his hardest and i respect that.

10: toon link

toon link didn’t actually make anything. but his mom came and made everyone a salad. and honestly! his mom is some great company. she had so many interesting stories about his childhood. honestly she added so much to the function

9: terry

he is the BARBECUE MASTER!!!! literally what the hell how is he so good! everyone at the party kinda stereotyped him but he’s really really progressive with his views which you wouldn’t think for a big barbecue muscle guy in a baseball cap but everyone loved this guy.

8: mega man

the MASTER CHEF!! literally. he was on master chef. he uses thin round blades to slice vegetables, heats things perfectly, has an instance knowledge of spices, just damn. this guy knows what he’s doing.

7-6: bowser and donkey kong

common misconception: everyone thinks these two would have no idea how to cook. but these are FAMILY GUYS HERE!! they’re providing for absolutely gigantic families, these fuckers know how to make a sandwich and they did. initially they started off making separate sandwiches but they have a really similar recipe and decided to work together. and i really respect that. also turns out peach is just bowser’s kids’ babysitter.

5: palutena.

everyone expected her to show up with some absolutely mystical food. naturally, she showed up with the literal ambrosia of the gods. holy shit. unfortunately, she didn’t put as much effort into it as she could’ve.

4: sephiroth.

ok this guy didn’t really cook anything amazing. but his sheer fucking commitment to the vibe is literally legendary. this man has a long as sword he cut 10 veggies at a time with. he heat them with magic world ending fire. when he was done in the kitchen he surrounded himself with fire and gazed menacingly at me. his sheer commitment to the edge lord aesthetic is truly exemplary.

3: incineroar.

THE GRILLING GOAT!! this man is a grill master. he was prepared to grill ANYTHING. and i mean anything. fish, veggies, meat, fucking grilled cheese. love this guy.

2: wii fit trainer

she made the most well balanced and healthy salad i’ve ever had. and she made it taste extraordinary. she can be a little intense about fitness but i’ve never had a healthier meal in my life. it immediately lowered my extremely high cholesterol.

1. diddy kong

he’s about ten. he made you a pb&j. he had homework to do, but he made you a pb&j. he didn’t have to. he wasn’t asked to. he just wanted to make you a pb&j. he could’ve done anything else but he made you a pb&j. what heartless monster wouldn’t accept it.

[holylulusworld]

Pour me some love (1) - Flufftober 13

Summary: He always ends up in your roadhouse.

Pairing: Biker!Dean Winchester x Plussized!Reader

Trope: Love at First Sight

Warnings: flirty Dean, shy/low self-esteem, fluff

Idea by: @elle14-blog1

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

Life is slow out here. You’re used to it. Years of spending your time after school at your dad’s bar taught you two things. Men can be the worst, and alcohol is not for you.

After your dad retired, his partner Ellen Harvelle took over the business. She was kind enough to offer you to stay and work for her. In the back to take care of the finances, and in the front to help her with the thirsty crowd.

Most of your guests at the roadhouse are regulars. The usual drunk, the businessmen wanting to drown their sorrows in booze, and the lonely hearts seeking company. But sometimes you get lucky and a stranded traveler or someone catching your attention ends up in your bar.

Just like tonight. He’s back, with company: Dean Winchester, your dream man on bowed legs.

You sigh watching him step inside the bar. He straightens his tousled hair as the single ladies in the bar crane their necks. You rarely get the chance to look at men like the Winchesters and their friends.

Bikers. Rough around the edges, a little cocky, and so damn handsome.

You know little to nothing about them. What you know is that John Winchester, leader of the Purgatory biker club, is Dean and Sam’s father.

Sam, the younger brother, has a girl in tow. His girlfriend Ruby. She glares at the woman at the bar, marking her property by wrapping her arms around Sam’s neck to kiss him fiercely.

They make out for a moment before John clears his throat. He came here for drinks and a cheap bed, not to watch his son fuck Ruby with his tongue. “Sammy, get your shit together,” he grits out before walking toward the table her always occupies when he’s around.

He nods at Ellen, who already carries his favorite poison toward the table, along with enough glasses for his friends.

“Welcome back, John,” Ellen says. “No fights. No swear words. No smoking at my place, Winchester.”

John smirks. “I wouldn’t dare cause trouble at your place, Ellen.” She huffs and turns toward the bar to nod at you. You’ve got your hands full with the other guests, but the biker club tips well.

“Hello sweetheart,” Dean, the elder brother, claims the only free seat at the bar counter. “What can you recommend today?” He licks his sinfully plump lips, eyes glued to your chest. “What’s on the menu tonight?”

“We’re not a diner, Dean,” you tease, and slap his chest with the dishtowel in your hand. “We’ve got peanuts, beer, booze, and bad music blaring from the centuries-old music box.”

Dean grins now. He loves that you do not shy away from him any longer. In the beginning, when he first came to the bar, you barely got a word out when he tried to chat you up.

His constant flirting and charming personality changed your mind about bikers and men in general. You slowly warmed up to Dean, and now you fear he owns your heart.

Sadly, you’ve got no clue if he feels the same or if he’s just friendly to every woman. Dean is a natural flirt, and you fear; he only tries to make you feel better. Because most of the guys coming to the bar rather flirt with Jo or the other pretty and petite waitresses.

“Hey, if you stare at Y/N as if she’s on the menu, you’ll pay for her too,” Jo slams her hand onto the bar counter. She grins as Dean’s cheeks redden.

“I was asking about the special tonight,” Dean grumbles under his breath. Another missed chance to talk to you without someone ruining it.

“Babe,” Jo whispers in your ear, “don’t make it easy for him. Make him beg for it. You’re too good for a one-night stand.”

“He wouldn't... he didn’t,” you splutter, catching Dean’s attention. He watches you nervously tug at the Zeppelin shirt you found in a drift shop. You bought it because you remember he told you about his weakness for classic rock.

“I got an eye on you, Winchester,” Jo glares at Dean. “One wrong move, and you end up spitting blood, mister.”

“Jo!” You tut.

She snickers before walking off. Jo met lots of bikers in her life. None of them meant what they promised a girl. She learned the hard way what heartbreak means.

“So... uh, any food tonight?” Dean hopefully asks. Last time he came around, you offered the rest of your homemade lasagna to him. He inhaled the food.

“I got some pie left.” You barely get the words out before he grabs your hand, holding it in his. “What?”

“Pie? I love me some pie,” Dean exclaims before leaning over the bar counter. “I swear, if your pie is as sweet as you, I’m going to marry you.”

You harrumph and wiggle out of his grip. “What are you doing, Dean?” You sniffle. “Listen, I know you’re a natural flirt, but stop pretending you like me or shit. That’s not fair, you know. A man like you shouldn’t give a girl like me hope.”

You throw the dishtowel at him before storming out of the bar to get fresh air.

“WINCHESTER!” Jo growls. She jumps over the bar counter to get the baseball bat she hides there in case one of the guests gets a little too cocky.

“I didn’t do a thing!” Dean gets off his seat to run after you. “Sonofabitch!”

“I hope so!” Jo yells after him, earning a chuckle from the rest of the biker gang. They all know Dean has a big crush on you.

“Sweetheart wait! Wait up!” Dean chases after you. He wheezes when you finally stop and wait for him to catch up with you. “I—phew.” He huffs. “I didn’t know running is so exhausting.”

“Dean, what do you want? Is this all a game to you?” You wipe your eyes. “Because it’s not funny to flirt with a girl you’re not interested in.”

“Y/N,” he grabs your upper arms, still panting. “Shit, give me a sec, baby. I—fuck. My sides hurt, and my lungs feel like I ran a marathon.”

You giggle as he tries to catch his breath. “I would never make fun of you,” he squeezes your arms before dropping his hands. Dean cups your face instead, looking you deep in the eyes. “Sweetheart, I fell in love with you the moment I stepped into the bar for the first time. I just didn’t know how to ask you on a date.”

“What? I—what?” You believe you misheard. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m damn serious, sweetheart,” Dean says and jerks his head toward a black classic muscle car parked in front of the bar. “I came with my Baby, not my bike, tonight to ask you to go for a ride with me.”

Oh, he grins with a twinkle in his eyes.

“I’m not a girl for one night.” You pout and sniff.

“Sweetheart,” he leans closer to murmur your name. “Do you believe I’m the kind of guy going for a wild ride with the girl he loves only once?”

You shake your head.

“Good,” he nods. “Now, let me kiss my girl. And then I’ll take her for a romantic ride in my car.

[yanderambling]

thank you both so much!! i decided to mix these up a bit so have Adrian being jealous over reader bullying someone else (and then doing something about it...)! i hope you like~ also: i changed the gif for... reasons, sorry lol i swear this won't be a thing okay bye enjoy <3

pairing: Masochist Puppyboy!Yandere(m) x Bully!Reader(gn)

words: ~ 2.2k

you can read the original post here!

CW: 18+, yandere behavior, bullying, physical/verbal abuse, breaking/entering, violence, mild gore, suggestive shit too ygi

Adrian watches in stunned horror as you crowd another student against the wall of the school hallway.

You lean your face close to theirs, some sweet poison dripping from your tongue, and they laugh nervously. They keep pressing back against the wall, as if they want to get away from you.

What an idiot. Doesn’t this moron see that they're being blessed in this moment? Don't they know that others would kill to be in their position?

Adrian feels the wooden bento box lid crack under his fingers.

He'd struggled not to assume the worst when you hadn't been at your spot to pick it up today, but now he just feels like a fool for harboring hope.

How could this happen? How could you do this to him? How could this person be more important than his homemade lunch? Than him? Have you gotten bored of him already? What does this dimwit have to offer you that he doesn't?

He's standing in front of you before he realizes he'd moved.

It's even harder to watch up close- your sparkling, predatory eyes tracking every uncomfortable shift of your victim, your body closing them in, making them feel trapped.

Oh, how Adrian aches to be your prey again.

Luckily, it only takes few seconds of awkward hovering before you register his presence.

"Oh- ha, shit. Hey," You tap the other student's shoulder, despite their full attention already being on you, "you've met my mutt, right? Just a sec."

You turn to face him, one hand still on the wall just above the other student's shoulder. Adrian blessedly can't focus on it over the euphoric mantra of my mutt my mutt my mutt echoing in his head.

Your fingers brushing over his as you snatch the lunch away is just enough to break him out of it.

"Great, fuck off now." You turn back to the other student as you jam the box into your bag.

No.

No no no no no.

That can't be it. He can't just leave you here to be swept away by some bland bambi wannabe, resigning him to forever trailing behind, vying for the scraps of your cruelty. No, he can't have that. He can't live off of that.

Stricken by a new sense of panic, Adrian can do little more than remain uncertainly by your side, leveling an unnerving glare at the other student as he imagines every single way he'd like to take them out of the equation.

"I like this jacket." You remark with an infuriatingly flirtatious edge.

"Th-thanks." The student stutters, flinching when you pick an imaginary piece of lint off their arm. Adrian clenches his hands into fists. "Uh, it was a birthday gift, from- from my parents."

A knowing smirk curls your lips as you nod in faux interest (Adrian can tell). "Yeah? Looks expensive. I wonder what else your folks got you?"

The other student starts to look even more uncomfortable, shifting on their feet as their eyes dart around in search of an escape route.

Oh. So that's your plan, skim off their birthday haul? Of course.

Now that he thinks about it, Adrian recalls that this student is somewhat notorious for having wealthy parents- but, hell, Adrian's parents are definitely richer than theirs! Why didn't you just come to him? (Because you have no idea; he certainly doesn't dress like it, he walks to school, and it's not like you pay him too much mind outside of the lunches and entertainment he provides anyway.)

"I can give you money."

You slowly turn your head to face him, a dangerous edge to the movement that sends a thrill down Adrian's spine.

"Did you not hear me before? I said fuck off."

Adrian's gut clenches unpleasantly, torn between his instinct to obey you and his desire to stay the object of your attention.

The latter wins out pretty quickly.

"...no."

Your entire demeanor shifts.

A manic, incredulous sort of smile spreads across your face as the challenge fully registers. Adrian notices your unoccupied hand flexing beside you as you turn to face him fully. He doesn't think he's ever seen you look so wild, so feral. The force of your stare is enough to have him cowering, ears flattening as his tail tucks firmly between his legs (more to hide his tenting crotch than out of fear).

Your voice is menacingly level as you say,

"The fuck did I just hear?"

Adrian is pretty sure his heart has stopped beating.

He's completely frozen, his throat clicking as he struggles for something, anything to say, to get that intense glare off him but also please dear god don't look away-

"Uh- I, ah- I- I didn't- um-"

Brrrriinngg!

Adrian flinches as the bell rings, and he just barely sees the other student ducking under your arm and scurrying off to class.

"Fuck!"

You slam your fist into the concrete wall, causing Adrian to flinch again, though he stays rooted to his spot in front of you.

"See what you did? Stupid fucking mutt..."

You shove past him roughly, and the pain of his shoulder colliding with the wall is beautifully complemented by the residual warmth of your body against his.

He watches in shock as you stalk down the hall and disappear from sight.

He can't believe he did that. He can't believe he's still standing. He wonders what would've happened if the bell hadn't rung, if you two hadn't been on school grounds...

A shiver surges through his body at the thought, and he has to physically shake himself to return his mind to the issue at hand.

Crisis averted.

For now.

Throughout the day, you corner that student exactly five more times. Adrian manages to interfere with every single one.

It's at the end of the school day, after you've told him off rather disappointingly for getting involved again (and you don't even give him a good punch for his trouble), that Adrian decides he needs a more permanent solution.

It isn't hard to follow your new target home, god knows he's had plenty of practice, and their security's not much trouble either. It's remarkably robust for a home system, but Adrian is a lonely nerd with too much time on his hands and practical experience. Dismantling it takes less than an hour.

Once he's inside, it's just a matter of scribbling a threatening note in unidentifiable handwriting (stating, in no uncertain terms, that they shouldn't even think of going near you again if they know what's good for them), hiding in their closet to take polaroids of them asleep, removing a lock of their hair to attach to the note alongside the polaroids, and leaving it all on their desk for them to find in the morning.

He's got it down to a science at this point.

The rest of his night is spent outside your window, watching you sleep and wishing things would go back to normal.

When it's still only your friends at your usual spot the next morning, Adrian feels disappointment weigh him down for the rest of his walk.

But, when he gets to school, he sees you openly scanning the hallways. Alone, no new victim in sight.

It seems they're trying to listen, at least. Emboldened by the lack of competition, Adrian hurriedly brings you your lunch.

You still dismiss him almost immediately.

He's tempted to defy you again, if only for you to give him a second glance, but he really doesn't think he could handle the rush again this soon.

Instead, he watches from a distance as you continuously try to track your new target down, and they consistently evade you.

He has to commend their effort- going to classes without textbooks, hiding in every nook and cranny when you passed, they even ate their lunch in the bathroom- it's looking like they might just be able to comply.

Until school lets out, and you catch them sneaking around the back.

"Hey! You have not been easy to find. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're avoiding me."

Adrian stays hunkered in the shadows as the other student stiffens and slowly turns to face you.

"Leave me alone."

The demand is so quiet, it's mostly lost to the ambient hum of the town around you.

You pull a familiar smirk and sidle closer to them, confidence emanating from your every movement. "What was that?"

They suddenly stumble backwards, just barely saving themself from overbalancing as they shout,

"Leave me alone!"

Your eyes widen at the outburst, and Adrian notices you checking for new witnesses as you raise your hands defensively.

"Woah, woah, what's the-"

"Just- just leave me alone! I know who you are, okay? I-I know what kind of person you are, the- the things you do, and I don't- I don't want anything to do with you! Okay? Or- or your creepy fucking friend, either!"

"My wha-?"

"I don't- None of it! Listen- my-my mom's a lawyer, you know? She could have you arrested for-for harassment, or worse! So just- just leave me alone!"

They turn and flee before you can get another word out.

You're left standing stunned, your hands clenching into fists as you fully process this rejection, this humiliation, this complete and utter undermining of your power.

You can't just go after them, you're not willing to test that whole "lawyer mom" claim, but every second you spend idle stokes the fury smoldering within you.

You need to purge it. You need to take it out on something.

Adrian steps around the corner.

"You."

That one word is enough to make him melt into a puddle.

He's helpless to do anything but stare wide-eyed as you storm over to him. He doesn't even brace himself for the punch, falling to the ground with a sharp groan.

"What the fuck did you do? Huh? What'd you do you little fucking creep?"

You punctuate each question with a kick to his prone form, forcing him to release a litany of moans containing equal parts pain and ecstasy.

This, this is how it's supposed to be; your undivided attention on him, your complete focus on touching him, on making him feel. He's the only one you should want to treat like this, to devote your time, your energy, your passion to.

"Can't keep your fucking nose out of my business, can you?" Another kick. Adrian keens. "Is this what you wanted? Are you happy now, you stupid mutt?"

Yes yes yes.

Another kick, this one landing somewhere on his head. As he feels blood trickle into his eye, Adrian briefly wonders if he's died and gone to heaven.

A solid foot to his stomach tells him he's very much still alive, but with it comes a heady lightness spreading throughout his whole body. Another and he feels like he's floating on the high of your touch, your anger, like he could sink into it and be wrapped up in the warmth of your rage. Another and his vision starts to white out. He's known no greater pleasure in life than surrendering to your furious whims, nothing else has ever felt so right. He wants nothing more than to stay like this forever.

Then the kicking stops.

Adrian instinctively whines at the loss, a high whimper lingering in the back of his throat as his head shoots up to search for you.

You're already stomping away, still muttering quiet curses (though Adrian can't hear them over the blood rushing in his ears) and too far off to catch his pitiful mewling. He doesn't take his eyes off you until you round a corner, and even then his gaze helplessly lingers on the space you had occupied.

He stays laying there long after you leave, blissfully basking in the afterglow of your abuse (he doesn't think his shaking legs would support him for awhile anyway). It isn't until he hears a car start nearby that he forces himself, ever so slowly, to make his way home.

He sneaks in with little trouble, rushing to the bathroom to hide away and admire your handiwork.

Deep, angry bruises are already forming all over his skin, some home to lightly bleeding cuts. Adrian presses on each one as he finds them, committing them to memory as he bites his cheek to keep quiet (it's a losing battle).

Loathe as he is to disfigure your art, he knows you won't have the chance to create more if someone finds out (nobody else could possibly understand the bond you share, so intimate and complex as it is), so he begrudgingly cleans the wounds and patches himself up.

It's a familiar process, almost habit by now, and after the bandages and makeup and careful positioning of clothing, nobody would suspect he'd so much as tripped.

But he knows.

He reminds himself every other second while he's camped outside your house that night, methodically fidgeting with every injury as he works his way across his body. He unconsciously applies extra force against the bruises littering his thighs, unable to tear his gaze from your sleeping face.

He wants to do more (god does he want to), but he can't. He could never.

Not without you.

He'll simply have to settle for torturing himself in the meantime, refreshing your marks so they stay effective, just until you get another chance to do it yourself.

When he sees you at your spot the next day (now carrying a lot of extra cash on the off-chance you decide to empty his pockets), he doesn't even try to stop his tail from wagging.

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post ~

[sunnie-angel]

Part 11: The Eavesdropper

part 10 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: no one really talks about how getting half of what you wanted is almost worse than nothing at all. as the killer haunting gotham starts closing in, you'll have to rely on jason anyway, no matter what it does to your poor heart

tags: off screen violence, reference to serial killer, reference to torture, implied (off screen) sexual violence, slight misogyny, implied sexual content

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.2k

a/n: surprise! @janybabyy left some wonderfully enthusiastic tags on the last update that hit my brain just right so now you have another chapter! we are getting darker with content, so please heed the tags and let me know if you think anything is missing

Sleeping with Jason Todd does not cure you of your feelings for him. If anything, it digs the knife in deeper. You know him now – the smell of his skin sleep-warm, the way his chin drops to his chest when he comes, how tender his voice can curl around your name –  only you don’t have any reason to keep your distance anymore. Can card your fingers through his curls in the privacy of your apartment, tangle your legs together, steal sweet mouthed kisses from him. You have Jason now, as much of him as he’ll let you have, and it hurts worse than having nothing at all. A slow acting poison that tastes sickeningly sweet as it slides down your throat burning everything it touches on the way down.

The pain of the distance he used to insist upon is nothing compared to the agony of his closeness. He whispers tender things into your ears he doesn’t mean, helps himself to your personal space with a casual cruelty, keeps being the friend (god you hate that word) that you’d fallen in love with only he won’t love you back.

It helps, a little, that there’s still this unseen line drawn between your friend – Jason – who you see in the daylight, and your fuckbuddy – Jay – that only appears when the door to your apartment is firmly closed. Jason is kind, brings you homemade lunches and takes your bag when he walks you home. He makes you laugh, bickers good naturedly with your friends, camps out in the library with you as long as you need. He pays attention to you, considers your words and the weight of them, makes sure your voice never goes unheard. Your friend Jason makes you feel like you could take on the world with the strength of his belief in you. If Jason makes you feel 10 feet tall, Jay does the opposite. Jay has you second guessing every move, every word, just in case you drive him away again. Has you wild eyed and sleepless over how you’re not good enough to love but good enough to fuck. Wondering if one day he’ll look at your desperate attempts to let him in – into your heart, into your bed, into your body – and see someone note good enough for that either. It’s not enough, nothing about you is enough, enough to make him stay. There’s a nebulous expiry date hanging over your head but you are too weak and greedy to do the smart thing and break it off.

You want to scream, to cry, to pound your fists against his stupidly broad chest and demand to know why. Why can he so easily disregard the fragile pieces of your heart underneath his boots when all of you is so ruthlessly consumed by him? It’s not fair. But then he looks at your with those smiling eyes and every angry part of you crumbles. Can almost hear the rubble as it hits the floor when he brushes your hair out of your face and false compliments fall from his tongue. Weak as you are, you steal whatever comfort from him you can.

Refuge, wherever you can find it, is necessary. If you weren’t almost being driven mad by your heartsickness, you would have lost yourself to fear ages ago. Three bodies now, girls that could be you, found in dark alleys. Maybe there’s more of them but the Red Hood has iced you out. Girls with eyes that look like yours, features you could describe with your eyes closed. Same height to them, same width to their hips. You can’t bear to look but you can’t bear not to know either. Jason won’t tell you the truth of it. So you force yourself to look. Check the news obsessively each morning, waiting with the most awful kind of terror from any kind of safety update from the university (too many bodies too close to campus – they have to say something even if it’s only to cover their asses).

You can feel the stares like a physical thing every time a body drops. Whispers behind hands as strangers compare you to the face on their screens. Everyone sizing you up, sizing up your potential to be found dead the next week. It doesn’t matter how many bottles of mace you carry or even that you’ve got one of Gotham’s own crime lords dogging your steps. The judgement lays heavy on you, breaths down your neck until the possibility of it is impossible to ignore. Dead corpse still walking. Only a matter of time before the grave calls you home but not before one of the most dehumanizing deaths the city has ever crafted. You can see it in the way your friends won’t look you in the eyes after every new article comes out. In the way that Dannika holds your hand tight and Lina doesn’t smile so widely anymore. It’s choking, this fear. Your cuticles are a mess and there’s a smooth spot on the back of your pearl pendant from all the times you’ve nervously rubbed it for comfort. Gotham doesn’t feel like home anymore, the alleys and side streets suddenly looming tall to suffocate you.

The GCPD is both horribly inept and terribly corrupt because it doesn’t take long before details of the murders start trickling out to the press in a steady stream. Always taken on a Friday evening. Bodies found early Sunday by garbage collectors. Beaten. Tortured. Mutilated. Violated. The list of adjectives drags on, swimming before your nauseated eyes. It’s not until the fifth girl is found that the last detail is leaked: all of them, every one, had made a single phone call from an unknown number in the early hours of Saturday morning to their loved ones. What it was that they discussed is unclear, but the news anchors all agree it was not a call they made by choice.

The screen fades in and out of focus as you read that particularly gruesome detail, heart breaking in to pieces at the thought of those poor girls’ last words. The ones whose calls got declined out of fear of a scam, the ones whose messages went straight to voicemail because of the early hour. Hysterically, you begin to think about who your phone call would be to. Your parents? You haven’t been on the best terms with them in years, been ignoring your mother’s calls lately because her fear is contagious. One of your friends then?  Jason? But a random murderer wouldn’t know those fine details, would probably just have you pick a number at random, whoever they thought would hurt the most at hearing your voice.

A heavy hand on your shoulder shakes you out of your spiralling thoughts.

“Hey,” Jason says and suddenly you can breathe again. “You won’t be one of them, so stop thinkin’ about the phone calls, yeah?”

You nod – a lie – and chew at your lip. A few months ago your only concern was finishing out the year and getting in to grad school. Now, you don’t know that you’ll ever feel safe again.

Campus remains relatively dead, people too afraid that the killer might deviate from his well established patterns and suddenly attack them at random. You scoff when you hear a couple of freshman discussing it; they aren’t anywhere near the killer’s type, not like you are. But for you, it’s a choice between sitting at home and staring at the walls, jumping every time the pipes rattle or a neighbour slams a door too loudly while your sanity slowly unravels, or this. Putting in extra hours as Professor Llewellyn’s research assistant, haunting the common spaces and libraries for the company of strangers, killing the time that stretches out between the brief moments you can spend with your friends.

You’re early on this particular Wednesday, desperate to get out of the apartment. Danika and Will are the only other ones haunting the student commons with you, Rei and Lina conspicuously absent. With a pang, you try to ignore the awkward silence that lives where Jason should be beside you. It’s quiet, save for the scratching of highlighters and the rushed clacking of keyboard keys as you work. Will’s not the best conversational partner and Dannika seems preoccupied by something. You’re so absorbed by your work that you don’t notice the stranger standing at the end of the table until he clears his throat. You jump and Dannika strangles a scream, knocking her notebook onto the ground. The man stoops to pick it up.

“Sorry,” he says with a grin that should be charming but your hackles are raised. “Didn’t mean to scare you all, I was just looking for my brother Jason. I was told that he’s usually here on Wednesdays?” He slides the notebook back to Dannika and she snatches it up to her chest.

Surreptitiously you send a text off to Jason under the table, unwilling to look away and let your guard down.

You: there’s a stranger here with a creepy smile that’s too wide for his face, says he’s your brother

Jason: that’s Dick

You sag with relief at the confirmation. Dannika takes her cue from you and starts to look at the man (Dick?) with less suspicion and more blatant appreciation. He simply beams under her stare.

Jason: wait please tell me you told him you think his smile is creepy

You: yeah I’m not doing not insulting your brother this soon after meeting him

“So,” Dick interrupts, still smiling that suspiciously happy smile. “Is he coming any time soon? I’d love to meet all of his friends if he’s gonna be a while.”

Will snorts at that you hold back the urge to stomp on his toes.

You: wants to know what he should do

Jason: tell him to go buy chilli dogs at the Batburger and I’ll meet him there

“Jay says to buy him a chilli dog from Batburger and he’ll meet you at the stand,” you say, jutting your chin out to indicate the order window on the other side of the commons.

“Jay, huh?” Dick says consideringly and you swear in your head.

Fuck. You really should know better by now to keep them separate. Dick shrugs and lopes off. The unfair grace must be genetic, you decide.

“So Jay, huh?” Dannika echoes, and you swear again.

“He doesn’t actually like to be called that,” you demure, frantically trying to dig yourself out of this hole before Jason actually does show up.

She turns to you, wraps a hand gently around your wrist where it lays on the table.

“No, no I’m just glad that you two made up. You both seem a lot less awkward around each other now. I’m just happy to see you less unhappy.” Her words are sweet but you can’t help but to clamp down on the wild giggle bubbling up in your throat. Less unhappy. Right.

“Yeah because she’s obviously fucking him,” Will interjects, derailing your train of thought. You slam your laptop closed.

“Oh fuck you too,” you hiss out through bared teeth. “You think guys and girls can’t be friends without sex? Newsflash Will, we’re supposed to be friends and I’d never in a million years fuck you.”

You grab your bag and storm off, shame and anger sparking in your chest and clawing their way up your throat.

“You know, it’s really rude to make comments about someone’s sex life or lack of one...” you hear a voice that sounds like Dick start to say.

You stumble out into the blinding whiteness of the snowy outdoors, squinting at the sudden change in light. Your coat is still slung over your arm but you don’t feel the bite of the cold yet, chest still heaving as an emotion you try not to look at too hard bubbles up inside of you. Why his words had landed so badly with you, well that’s not something you want to cry over in public before you can put yourself back together without anyone seeing. The frozen air cuts open your lungs with each heaving inhale but it grounds you, pulls you out of your racing thoughts and into the present moment.

“Hey!” Dannika puffs out, running into the cold morning air after you. “Wait up!” She bends in half, hands resting on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. She groans and stretches out her lower back, grinning at you ruefully. “Let’s find somewhere else for the rest of today. Will was so far out of fucking line. He’s been such a little asshole ever since he broke his wrist and I know we’re supposed to be understanding that he’s grumpy from the pain but that was just him being mean and neither of us need to put up with that shit.”

“You’re not gonna ask if it’s true?” you ask her, starring at the dirty snow on the ground.

“Well if it was true and you didn’t tell me, I’d assume you had a good reason. And if you didn’t have a good reason but were worried I was gonna judge you, I wouldn’t. But those are all hypotheticals of course.” She says it so kindly that you can feel the first pinpricks of tears in your eyes.

“One of the library group study rooms should be open, let’s go snag one,” you settle on instead of the secret that’s been burning a hole through your tongue.

“Sure! Oh lemme text Jason real quick to let him know we changed spots for today,” she agrees easily and you let out a sigh of relief.

No, sleeping with Jason Todd hasn’t cured any of your feelings for him.

'part 12

[h0nkch0c0late]

Can you do a Jordan li fanfic, where the reader thinks there’s something going on between Jordan and Marie.. bit of jealousy and angst thanksss love

Idk how angsty you wanted it to be so I ended it with fluff (kinda but not really)

Jealousy, Jealousy

Jordan Li x Reader

Summary: you were never one to get jealous. Until Marie Moreau entered the picture.

WARNINGS: some angst, jealous reader, clueless Jordan

----------------------------------------------------------

You were never one to be jealous. You had established that when you had first gotten with Jordan.

Hell, half the time you two watched movies together, you both would spend it talking about which hot actors you'd fuck.

And, Jordan talking to other attractive people in real life never bothered you either. Hell, your whole friend group was full of gorgeous people.

But then, Marie Moreau entered the picture.

At first you didn't have a problem, seeing as Jordan absolutely did not fuck with Marie due to the whole Top Five bullshit.

But then they started to get closer, they began talking more, and it didn't involve as many arguments.

Now, it's not like Jordan had stopped paying attention to you all together, in fact, they still spent every day (and night) with you, and nothing really changed.

You wanted it to stay that way, but your jealousy had gotten the best of you.

The closer the two of them got, the more distance you decided to put between yourself and your partner in crime.

Of course, this utterly confused poor Jordan, but she thought that maybe you were just having a rough week.

So, when you suddenly had left their side during a party (after getting deep into conversation with Marie), she had decided to investigate.

It was Cate who had gotten to you first.

She had caught you in the bathroom with choked cries coming from one of the stalls.

She knocked on the stall door, "Y/n? That you?"

You sniffed, trying to wipe away your tears quickly, "y-yeah, what's, uh, what's up?" You ask with a stuttered breath.

Cate's brows furrowed in concern, "I just wanted to know if you're okay. Jordan's looking for you."

You leaned your head against the stall door, "are they doing it alone? Or are they with Marie?" Her name dripped off your tongue like poison.

Cate immediately knew what was going on with you by the way you spoke about Marie, and she sighed, "alone. Jordan's really worried about you, yknow."

You scoffed, "Sure, she is."

Cate rolled her eyes, "I thought you never get jealous. You seem pretty jealous to me."

You pause for a moment, "...I'm not jealous." You state defensively, crossing your arms.

"Oh, you SO are. If you weren't, you wouldn't be so distant from her as of lately." Cate stated.

"Nuh uh."

"Y/n you were literally crying like two seconds ago. Don't make me come in there and force you to admit it." She threatened, leaning onto the door.

You frowned, "I just... the way Marie keeps looking at Jordan is the same way I look at them. And Jordan..." You're voice trailed off, scared that if you were to finish the sentence, you would start crying again.

Cate sighs for the second time, "open the door."

"Cate-"

"Y/n, open this stall door right now."

You groan, standing up and unlocking the door, pushing it open slightly so as not to hit Cate.

Cate opens the door wider, putting her hands on her hips, "I assure you that there is nothing going on between Jordan and Marie. It's your jealousy talking."

"But, Cate-" you began, but she cuts you off.

"Y/n, I know what jealousy looks like. I also know what it's like to be jealous. You see things that aren't actually happening. Talk to them."

You shake your head, "I can't."

Cate puts her gloved hands on your shoulders, "you can, and you will. The solution to your problem is to talk to them. Avoidance causes more problems than it solves."

You groan once more, "fine. But I'm not gonna be happy about it. I know what I saw." You tell her before walking out of the bathroom.

"Uh huh, sure you do." She replies as she watches you leave.

----------------------------------------------------------

"Y/n, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Jordan exclaims as she finds you in the crowd.

The frown didn't leave your lips as you replied, "I was just going to the bathroom."

Jordan noticed your unimpressed look, and your eyes looked a little red. "What happened?" They asked, concerned.

You refused to look them in the eye, "nothing. I'm fine." You knew you should be following Cate's advice and talking to him about it, but you've always been the type to avoid your problems as best as you could.

But Jordan knew there was a problem. You always looked her in the eyes. "Dont lie to me, please? Just tell me what's up."

You swallowed the lump that began to form in your throat. You really didn't want to fucking deal with this.

Their hands moved to your shoulders, "please look at me." She begged.

You forced your eyes to meet their's, your heart beating just a little bit faster than you would like due to the anxiety of confrontation.

Jordan nodded at you, eyes pleading for you to speak.

You took a deep breath before pushing your fear down, "is there something going on between you and Marie?" You asked bluntly.

Jordan froze at the question, their expression turning to one of hurt at the thought of you not trusting them enough to believe that theyd betray you like that. "What? No! Of course not. What made you think that I would do that to you?" Their hands had let go of your shoulders, her eyes holding a look of betrayl.

And suddenly you felt your heart sink to your stomach. You knew Jordan would never lie to you, and to have that confirmation that it was YOU being the hurtful idiot...

"Jealousy, I guess." You stated, tears beginning to prick your eyes.

Jordan shook their head, as much as they were hurt that you thought she would betray you like that, she also understood the powers that jealousy had.

"It's okay." They replied.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It wasn't okay. Your jealousy had made you think the worst. It made you not trust them. It wasn't okay at all. You felt like you should be punished, broken up with, and yet...

"No, no its not okay, Jordan. I-I got jealous." You stuttered.

Jordan reached over to cup your face gently in their hands, "everyone gets jealous sometimes, Y/n."

"But I...I don't get jealous. I'm supposed to be immune to jealousy." You replied brokenly.

A soft, small smile appeared across Jordan's lips, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen with her thumb. "You're not immune to emotions, babe. I forgive you."

You didn't want to be forgiven. You wanted Jordan to yell, scream, kick, and punch at you. You wanted them to be angry. They deserved it.

Jordan leaned their forehead against your own, beginning to repeat, "I love you, and I forgive you." Over and over again. She knew you. She knew that you wouldn't forgive yourself. They knew that you wanted to punish yourself, but that's not what they wanted.

And he wanted you to know it.

Because jealousy is normal. It's human. It's an emotion that sometimes can't be avoided.

No one is immune.

----------------------------------------------------------

Suddenly, I got motivation to write. It's pretty long. I wanted to make it more angsty, but my heart couldn't take it, LMAO.

Hope yall enjoyed <3333

-your favourite Jordan Li writer (im kidding)

[sb-1495]

“Hm? Did our sweet Nami-swan make this?”

Zoro rolled his eye as Sanji reverently stared down at the hot bowl of rice porridge in his lap, the sterile white of the infirmary barely less blinding than the cook’s visible excitement. For a brief moment, he considered lying, knowing Sanji will sing praises over the food no matter how it tastes, and the look on the cook’s face when the witch inevitably broke his heart would be priceless. But something in the back of his mind bristled against the idea as he stared at Sanji’s flushed face.

“Nah dartbrow,” Zoro grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he reclined back in the chair beside the hospital bed, “I made that.”

The energy from cook quickly evaporates with an annoyed click of his tongue.

“Well, then I’ll appropriately lower my expectations,” he grumbled, picking up his spoon. “Even if it’s moss soup, it’s beneath me to waste it.”

Zoro scoffed, watching from the corner of his eye as Sanji carefully scooped a spoonful, pausing to blow away the steam and inspect the concoction for the tiniest signs of tampering or inedible elements.

“Skies above, it’s not poisoned,” Zoro sighed, his head lolling back in dramatics. He knew Sanji’s fever was more to do with an infection received on the last island, but maybe his theatrical attitude was contagious.

“Just making sure none of this green is your hair,” the cook spat, turning to childishly stick his tongue out before finally shoving the porridge in his mouth.

He chewed with a scrunched face, his eyes squeezed to brace for a sour or spoiled taste, but slowly it morphed into… open confusion, the cook’s brow furrowed and eyes minutely darting around.

For a brief moment, Zoro worried the cook would throw up.

Instead, he took another bite, chewing thoughtfully in the way he did when they visited island restaurants and he was trying to reverse engineer the recipe from a dish. As though the porridge was a problem to solve instead of something to soothe his illness. Then another bite, carefully considering it before swallowing with a glare. Alright, here comes the scalding criticism.

“Ha ha,” Sanji said dryly, cradling his free arm around the warm bowl, “Very funny, trying to trick me like that. I may be sick, but I’m not stupid, I know Nami-swan or Robin-chan made this.”

Zoro blinked. “What? No, I said made it.”

“Pfff, liar!” Sanji scoffed. “Am not!!” Zoro sputtered, his hackles instantly raising over the cook’s smug expression.

“You’re better at keeping a fib up than usual,” Sanji taunted, “but there’s no way that you cooked this.”

“Curls, why would I lie about that?” Zoro sighed, resolutely ignoring his earlier plans that were just that.

“To trick me into saying disparaging things about the ladies’ cooking!” Sanji yelled, curling around the bowl more protectively. “But I’m onto your scheme, there's no way you could've cooked a meal of this caliber in your life!"

Zoro squinted, trying to process. Was he saying that…

“Cook, I’m not lying,” Zoro stated, keeping his voice as firm and even as he could muster. "I cooked you that porridge."

Sanji must’ve seen the sincerity in Zoro’s gaze, because his own faltered, falling back into panicked confusion as he turned back to the bowl in his lap.

“But, but that’s…” Sanji stuttered, face quickly turning pale before flushing again. “Then Nami must have… given you instruction on how to cook this! Yeah, that’s it!”

Now it was Zoro’s turn to click his tongue. “I have enough debt to follow me to my grave. Like hell I’d pay for her ‘instruction.’”

Sanji’s lip tightened into a line, staring down at the bowl harder like there was an answer in there. Zoro leaned forward, a hint of a smug expression ghosting his lips.

“Guess that means you..."

“Get out,” Sanji muttered.

“Hm?” Zoro hummed, dramatically putting a hand up to his ear. “Sorry, was that a thank you I heard—"

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” Sanji yelled, weekly kicking his leg out in emphasis. Obviously his words nor actions held any bite if the swordsman’s snickering was anything to go by. With two surrendering hands, Zoro got up and made to leave.

“You’re welcome, shitcook,” Zoro taunted, even in the face of Sanji’s scalding glare. He paused briefly at the door.

“There’s more if you get hungry again,” he added, notably quieter and with less teasing. "Take it easy."

With that, the door to the infirmary closed.

Sanji stared resolutely down at the bowl of rice porridge, hating it more and more the longer he stared. Gently, he stirred it around, trapped steam escaping as the green onion garnish incorporated more into the mixture. Quickly, he shoveled another scoop into his mouth, tempted to just swallow it down without tasting so he could just get rid of this cursed meal. However, his instincts didn’t let him, taking time to savor the flavor and warmth that it provided.

It must be the illness, he quietly decided. Sickness often messes with your sense of smell, and therefore your taste buds. THAT’S why the moss’s barbaric concoction actually tastes…

He swallowed the porridge with a lump in his throat.

That’s why it tasted so good.

He’d blame all this, along with his fluttering heart and blushing face, on this accursed fever until the day he died. And with how this whole mess had him feeling, he predicted that day would arrive soon.

[bullet-prooflove]

ATF!Series Part Three: Hell or Highwater

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hatersaremymotivators benny kkkelpies-shed

ATF Series:

Part One: A Rabbit You Don't Want To Chase - Stahl makes an unwelcome return to David's life.

Part Two: Fucked - Stahl fucks up you entire life in pursuit of Jax Teller.

You’ve been in a custody for five hours by the time David’s finally allowed to see you. Four hours of that has consisted of you sitting silently in an interrogation room listening to Stahl tell you how fucked you are.

And yea, she’s right, you are pretty fucked.

Your entire life it’s crumbling down around you and all you can feel is this crushing, desolate numbness because those hopes you had, those dreams they’re gone. Every single one of them.

You think about that as you lie on a musty mattress in a chilly cell. You think about what Jax Teller has done to you, what he continues to do to you. He has no direct involvement with you but the ripples of that time you spent together still resonate through your life.

This is what David means when he talks about Jax's blast radius.

Jax Teller is a nuclear bomb, his toxicity seeping into everything he touches. His poison, it salts the earth leaving no space for anything else to grow and you, you  just have to sit here and absorb the damage.

“The light giving you a headache?” David asks as he leans in the doorway of the cell block. It’s Tuesday evening and you’re the only one in attendance, your arm is draped over your eyes trying to ward off the glow from the fluorescent. You have that metallic taste on your tongue. The one that usually comes just as the migraine starts to set in.

You don’t answer him, you can’t because the moment you do David will know exactly how broken you are right now you can’t stand the idea of anyone seeing that.

The light clicks off and you swallow past the well of emotion that’s building in your chest because David, he always knows exactly what you need. You hear his footsteps, the squeak of his boots as he comes to linger outside your cell. You hear his sigh before he sits down on the floor, his back against the cinderblocks. His elbows come to rest on his knees as his head tips back and his eyes close.

You’re in for the night and so is he.

The distance it seems to stretch between you, he feels the weight of it in the air as he plays through the past couple of hours in his head. The phone calls he’s made to the San Franisco Art Institute trying to undo all the nasty shit that Stahl has done to you. He’d begged for them to change their minds but that placement is gone, they don’t want a criminal influencing the other students. He’d slammed down the phone so hard, the plastic had cracked on the receiver.

“She told me you fucked her today.” You say quietly and his blood runs cold because it isn’t enough that Stahl has taken away your prospects, she has to try and take him too. “That you came inside her, it seemed important to her that I know that.”

He understands the significance. For Stahl their relationship was about power, about proving she had it and he didn’t. It drove her absolutely crazy that he wouldn’t give her that, that everytime she begged or demanded, he would pull out. It was a sign to her that she couldn’t control him, not completely.

“You’re the only woman who gets to have that.” He tells you, his gaze meeting yours as you shift up into a sitting  position. “The only one that gets to have every part of me.”

You draw your knees up to your chest, tucking the blanket over your legs because it get a little cold in here at night. He makes note to get you an extra blanket because the temperature is only going to keep dropping.

“David, we should talk about what happens when I go to jail.” You say softly. “You need to get clear of this…”

“You won’t see jail time.” He tells you and there’s such surety in his voice that you can’t help but believe him. “You’ll be bailed tomorrow, made to pay a fine, they’re going to seek restitution for the property damage. We’ll be paying it off for the next couple of years.”

We…

Because the two of you, you’re in this together come hell or highwater.

“David…” You whisper because you know exactly what he’s done while you’ve been trapped with Stahl.

All the favours he’s collected over the years, all that good will. He’s used it all up on you, on managing this crisis. You know what this is going to do to him, his dreams of being Chief, they’re over. His affiliation with you has seen to that.

“You’ll be his downfall.” Jacob Hale had warned you when he’d heard about you and David. “You’ll ruin everything he’s worked for.”  

This is it right here, the moment he was talking about. Fuck it eats you up inside, knowing you’re dragging David down with you.

“You think this is a sacrifice for me but it isn’t.” He says as he raises to his feet, wincing at the stiffness in his bones as he comes to stand before the bars, his hands gripping them. “Unser was never going to step down and I don’t see the point of having all this power if I can’t use it to do the right thing.”

You mirror his movements, your fingers coming to rest in the indentations between his knuckles as you press your head against the cool bars.

“You didn’t ask for any of this,” He reminds you quietly, his blue eyes meeting yours. “We just fucked the wrong people and now we’re getting fucked but at least we’re in it together. They don’t get to have this, they don’t get to take you away from me.”

“No.” You whisper, a sad smile crossing your features because even though you’ve both lost so much, you’ll always have each other.  “They won’t ever have this.”

Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[whorediaries-09]

pick your poison, babe;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- suggestive content, fluff. a/n- imgonnagetyouback stans rise for the national anthem.

little train.

'you're blushing,' he says. the woman sitting across him laughs, making no effort to hide the obvious effect he has on her. fluttering her eyelashes at him, she runs her tongue across the row of her front teeth,

'yeah so?' she leans forward, 'haven't seen anyone fall for your charm before you?' he tilts his head back, black inky strands glowing in the dim light of the pub. the bark like laughter emits from his lips, reaching your ears like a melodious tune.

it's a wonder really, how he hasn't spotted you yet. you're not sitting much far away from sirius' little 'date'-which you'd been informed of by james. lily had informed you that it was nothing but a ploy to make you jealous.

two could play the game, you'd thought as you turned up at the pub. if you knew sirius black any better, you were sure he wouldn't choose such a shabby place for a date for a woman he actually fancied. that also confirmed your suspicions of this whole set up being just a ploy.

'let me take you home,' he said. the woman leaned closer to him, mouthing a 'sure'. he was being so bubbly. you wanted nothing more but to punch away his piously fake chivalrous acts. you wiped your greasy fingers on your lilac short skirt which fitted you like skin.

god damn it, the place didn't even have fucking tissues.

you decided you'd enough. throwing in a few notes to pay off the bill and the tips, you snuck out the pub. you searched for the pocket knife you kept in your purse; london could get dangerous at night, plan ready and steady to be put in action.

you found his motorbike standing at the pavement, so innocently. you smirked to yourself, knife digging into the tires, letting out the air.

sirius had done his research. he knew the price going in.

*-

'i'll tell you one thing, honey. i can tell if somebody still wants me.' you said, brushing off his efforts to flirt with you. of course you knew he wanted you. but the game was not finished. not yet, anyways. he pouted.

'i know you punctured my motorbike that night, sweetheart,' he said, casually, as if not noticing the momentary freezing of your body or your parting lips before you put on your nonchalant facade.

'i'll make sure to smash up your bike next time,' you replied, with equal mirth, even though you couldn't really escape the heat that crawled beneath your cheeks. he chuckled, the smoke billowing out his mouth. his free hand crawled to your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh. he leaned closer, eyes on the book on your lap. lips brushing against your ear, he whispered,

'and i'll make you think twice about it.'

and god forbid you found yourself hanging by the thread of your sanity. your stomach jolted with butterflies as he moved away, taking another drag.

turning you to ashes.

he threw the burnt end on the ground, crushing it with his boot.

'i know what i want, sweetheart. and trust me,' he breathed, getting up and standing up in front of you, finger under your jaw. 'you'll find you were never not mine.'

you smirked, raising an eyebrow.

'or maybe i'll just flip the script. take the upper hand. might just love you till the end, or leave you like a dumb house party,'

he coyly smiled.

there was danger in the heat of your touch. but god forbid he'd be lying if he hadn't already picked the heated posion.

*-

'i've got someone,' you said, blowing a raspberry at his very poor and lame attempt at impressing you. it wasn't true, of course. but he didn't need to know that. he rolled his eyes.

'say you got somebody and i'll say i got someone too. what's the point of lying to each other?'

'you're not gonna leave are you?' you asked, feigning annoyance, pulling away your feet from him, as he'd been painting your nails.

'nope. even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you,'

'you're so annoying,' you pushed your head into the soft pillow. he chuckled.

'you're a bad liar,'

you grumbled. there wasn't actually any game either of you were playing. all the both of you were doing was trying to escape from each others feelings. like a trap, to see who'd fall into it first.

the pieces were broken, but the both of you wanted to play the game.

*-

'sirius orion black!' your scream was loud, paired with the loud crash of his door. you were usually very careful when it came to rented apartments, but sirius had taken it too far this time. he had no business fucking up your date-

you slammed against his form, fresh out the shower. your cheeks instantly reddened, realizing the situation you were in. you'd just walked into sirius fresh out the shower. yet your anger overpowered any other emotion of embarrassment, so you lashed out, not really caring about the ink on his bare chest, his toned body, the white towel wrapped low and loose around his thin and narrow hips and the pellets of water flowing down his porcelain skin...

'you're staring and screaming.'

'i'm not!'

'keep telling yourself that.'

'you-shut up! you ruined my date. i was looking forward it to it-'

any further words were silenced by the harsh planting of his lips falling on yours, hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you towards his wet body, pushing you towards his bedroom.

'all you do is fucking talk, god sweetheart,' he grumbled, pushing you on the bed.

'i don't-'

'see, you're doing it again.' he said, knitting his eyebrows. 'we don't have to play this game, you know? the pieces are already broken.'

of course you knew it. you heard the whispers in his eyes. he made you think twice. and of course you knew you he was never not yours.

'come here,' you ordered. he smiled wolfishly, pushing your further on the mattress, lips hot on your warm skin. he kissed soft and slow along the line of your blouse, undoing the buttons with his teeth.

'you still going to smash up my bike, sweetheart?' he asked. you laughed, breathlessly.

'whether i'm going to be your wife or smash up your bike, i haven't decided yet,'

**********************************

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

****************************************

[byuntrash101]

ok but hear me out... hongjoong... showing mc a track he's been working on in his studio (probably late at night, we all know this man doesn't have time for sleep)... but!! things escalate :>

you could probably add mingi into the studio too since he also does some of the producing (pinkgi for bonus points)

ok i've had this ask forever and normally i dont do requests but this ?????? like i couldn't pass it up. here's a sneak peak.

preview under the cut tell me if u wanna be tagged

“What do you think?” Hongjoong asked him as you were still singing through the speakers. 

Right there Mingi realized he hadn’t been paying any attention to what was going on around him. His mind was poisoned by the images he was so vividly picturing: you slipping off the flimsy tank top and taking his hands to lay over the bra, asking him to play with your tits, begging him to take off the lace that was keeping you from feeling his hands on your body. Or you spread out onto the mixing table and Mingi’s face buried between your thighs, getting to finally taste you and hear you as he made you feel good, feeling your pussy throb under his tongue smearing your wetness all over his face. That was what Mingi was paying attention to, not the song. Definitely not the song.

But he needed to find something to say before he looked suspicious so he went another route. A route that wasn’t directly about the song but still close enough to pass.

“I think she’s a good addition to the team. Look at how far we’ve come with this song already? Of course we still have to run it by Eden but I mean it’s pretty much done.” 

“No” Hongjoong started. And Mingi bit his lips thinking his friend was going to ask him to be more specific about the voice samples he wasn’t listening to but how wrong he was...

“I mean physically what do you think?” Hongjoong’s tone was as glacial as could be as he did his best to dissimulate the burning rage that was hiding behind the biting cold tone.

The words didn’t make any sense in Mingi’s mind. So he turned to his friend trying to find on his face a hint that could help him make the sentence he just heard make sense. But he only found his friend looking right at him dead serious, a darkness about his aura.

“What?” he asked, dumbfounded and utterly confused.

“You wanna fuck my girlfriend?"