#budget whiskey bottles

[razielim]

Finally cracking open a Whistle Pig 👀

[tokkiwrites]

ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ᴡᴏᴏᴅ & ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ᴄᴀᴋᴇ

summary: your dad's birthday is coming up, and you want to buy something special, but you're short a couple hundred dollars. not wanting to change your idea for a gift you ask his best friend, Joel Miller, to help you out until you get more money. He agrees but surcharges. tags: pwp, dbf!joel, f!reader, afab reader, age gap (legal, the reader is 22, joel is in his mid forties), kind of slut shaming i dunno, fingering f receiving, head m receiving, dirty talk galore, pet names galore, p in v unprotected. (lmk if i missed anything)

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ Woah i dunno what this was, kind of lame but i desperately need dbf joel to give it to me. 4.03k words but its mostly exposition. not proofread!!!

Your dad's birthday was just around the corner, and this year, you wanted to get him something that truly mattered. The usual gifts—grilling tools, books, maybe a bottle of whiskey—didn’t feel right. You’d found something more special, something that spoke to him. It was a vintage guitar, similar to the one he had when he was younger, the one he used to play for you on lazy sunday afternoons. You knew it would bring back memories for him, and maybe, just maybe, he’d start playing again.

But there was one big problem—you couldn’t afford it. You were short. A couple hundred dollars short, and no matter how you shifted your budget, it just wouldn’t work. You’d gone over your options more times than you could count, and each time, you felt that pang of disappointment grow stronger. You weren’t someone who liked asking for help. You always tried to handle things on your own, but this time, there was no way around it.

That’s when Joel came to mind. Maybe he could help.

Joel Miller had been your dad’s best friend for as long as you could remember. He was the one who was always around, helping out when your dad needed a hand with anything or just dropping by for a beer and a quiet conversation. Joel had a way about him—steady, unshakable. Older, but not in a way that dulled him. His rough edges made him seem more dependable, like someone who’d been through enough to know what really mattered.

Over the years, you’d noticed things about him. Little things. The way his voice, low and gravelly, would call out your name with a slow drawl that sent a small shiver down your spine and straight to your cunt. The way his hands, calloused from years of hard work, looked when they were fixing something or just resting casually on the steering wheel of his truck. Somewhere along the line, what started as casual observations turned into a quiet crush. It was ridiculous, really. He was your dad’s best friend, and you were way too young for him. But that didn’t stop the way your heart skipped whenever you saw him or how your breath caught when he gave you one of those long, unreadable looks.

You’d always had this childish, gnawing thing for Joel, even though you knew it was wrong. He was someone who’d practically watched you grow up. But that didn’t stop your mind from wandering in all the wrong places. Over the years, you’d caught yourself daydreaming about him, what he'd do to you, imagining what it would be like if things were different—if you were his.

It wasn’t just his looks, though those didn’t hurt. Joel had that rugged charm about him—broad shoulders, rough hands, and a way of carrying himself that made you feel safe and small in a way that made your mind spiral. you wanted to be at his mercy. You couldn’t help but notice the lines that deepened around his eyes when he smiled, the slow, steady way he spoke, that gentle drawl making every word sound like it was meant just for you. And those moments when his gaze lingered a second too long—when his eyes would flicker over you in a way that made your pulse quicken—you’d catch yourself wondering if maybe, just maybe, he saw you differently too.

But it was just fantasy. Joel was older, your dad’s best friend, and he’d never cross that line. You told yourself that over and over, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in. Late at night, when you were alone, you’d let yourself imagine— touching yourself while wondering. What if you weren’t who you were, and he wasn’t who he was? What if, in another life, he could be more than just your dad’s friend? You’d picture his hands on you, the way his voice might sound close to your ear, the roughness of his touch, the warmth of his breath on your skin.

But every time, reality pulled you back. Joel would never see you that way. It was impossible. You were just the kid he’d known for years, nothing more. Still, the fantasy lingered, a secret you kept tucked away, knowing it could never become anything real.

right?

You hadn’t planned on asking him for help. It wasn’t something you were comfortable with, especially not from Joel. But as the days ticked by and you couldn’t figure out how to make the money work, the idea crept into your mind more and more. He was reliable, and if anyone would help you out without making you feel bad about it, it would be Joel. You sat with your phone in your lap for what felt like forever, staring at his name on the screen. It took a few deep breaths before you finally hit call. The phone barely rang twice before you heard his familiar voice on the other end.

"Hey, darlin'," he spoke, the warmth of his voice instantly grounding you. "Somethin' wrong?" His concern was real. Joel wasn’t the type to waste words, and for a second, you thought about backing out. But then you thought about the gift, about your dad’s face when he saw it, and the words spilled out.

"Hey, Joel. I’m okay, just... I need a favor," you admitted, biting your lip, feeling the awkwardness rise in your chest. There was a soft chuckle on the other end of the line, the sound rumbling through the phone. "You? Ask for a favor? Must be somethin’ important."

You smiled despite yourself, already feeling some of the tension ease. “It’s about dad’s birthday. I found this perfect gift, but I’m short a couple hundred dollars, and... I hate asking, but I don’t know what else to do.” Joel was quiet for a moment, and you held your breath. Then, his voice came through, steady as always. "How much you need?" You blinked, surprised at how quick he was to offer. "Uh, about two hundred. I swear I’ll pay you back as soon as I—"

"Don’t worry ‘bout that," Joel cut you off, his tone so casual it almost threw you. "Come by later, we’ll figure it out."

And that was it. He hung up before you had a chance to protest, leaving you sitting there, a mixture of relief and something else bubbling inside you. Later came quicker than you expected, and before long, you found yourself driving out to his place. The sun was low in the sky, casting the road in golden light as you drove the familiar route. Joel lived just outside town, far enough out that it always felt like stepping into a different world when you visited him.

When you pulled into his driveway, his old truck was parked out front, dust-covered and reliable, much like the man himself. The air was warm, the sun casting long shadows across his yard, and for a moment, you sat in your car, your heart thudding in your chest. You didn’t know why you were so nervous—this was just Joel, after all—but something about this felt different. It wasn’t just about asking for money. Before you could second-guess yourself, you got out of the car and walked up to his front door. Your shoes crunched against the gravel, and the soft thud of your knock on the door sounded too loud in this quiet evening.

Joel opened the door almost immediately, like he’d been waiting for you all this time. He stood there, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes fixed on you. For a second, you were caught in his gaze, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "Hey, darlin'," he greeted, his voice soft but thick with that familiar gruff.

"Hi, Joel," you replied, stepping inside, trying to hide your apparent blush. The smell of wood and something faintly musky filled the air, and the room felt like it always did—warm, safe. You’d been here countless times, but today, something felt different. Maybe it was just you. You sat down on the couch, trying to calm your nerves, while Joel took his usual spot across from you, leaning back in his chair with that easy posture, his eyes still lingering on you. There was something about the way he looked at you tonight, something that made your skin prickle with awareness.

“So,” he started, his voice low, “you need a little help with this gift, huh?” You nodded, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. “Yeah. It’s more expensive than I thought. I didn’t want to ask, but…” Joel shook his head, cutting you off. “You ain’t gotta explain. I told you I’d help, didn’t I?” Relief washed over you, but then, as you glanced back at him, you caught the way his eyes hadn’t left yours. There was something different in them now—something that made your heart race a little faster. "But," Joel continued, his tone dropping just a notch, slower now, like he was considering each word carefully, "you know me. I don’t do favors for nothin’."

Your breath hitched. There was an intensity in his voice, in the way he was watching you, that sent a rush of heat through your body. You felt your folds dripping through your white cotton panties. He wasn’t just talking about the money, and you knew it. The room seemed smaller, the air between you thick with something, your pulse plummeting under his steady gaze.

You swallowed, suddenly unsure of how to respond. You’d known Joel your whole life, but this—this was different. The way he was looking at you now wasn’t like anything you’d felt from him before, hungry, and it made you both nervous and excited, a dangerous mix you didn’t know how to handle. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "So," he drawled, his voice like gravel, "what’re you gonna give me in return?"

"A-Anything.." You spoke up, the words cascading out before you could even process them. "That so?" You see him smile, looking down at his hands. "You're a big girl... I think you know what i want." Your heart almost stops. Joel stands up, slowly inching himself closer. "Joel, Iㅡ" you try to protest, not quite sure what to make of what he just said. "You think i don't know? think i dont notice how you look at me, always wearin' those skimpy clothes when 'm around...tryna' look innocent." the rhythm of your heart races, realizing what is really happening. you were to afraid to look up, afraid of what he'll say next, so you stuck to staring at the ground. "You think i couldn't hear ya touchin' yourself, moanin' my name, when I stayed over? God, woke up with the biggest morning wood ever that dayㅡ felt like a fuckin' teenager." he chuckles to himself, rough fingertips trailing your shoulder, finally reaching your chin. he grabs a hold of it, turning your head harshly so you could look at him. your blushed skin burned, eyes wide with expectation.

"Joel, 'm sorry, pleaseㅡ"

"Oh, so now you beggin'? could've come to me so long ago 'n ask me nicely to give it to you, sweet girl. Guess this is where you repay me for helpin' out with your dad's gift and for all those boners you made me power through." is this really happening? your eyes dart around the room, but he's quick to grab tightly on your cheeks, making your gazes meet. "You look at me when I'm talkin' to you, angel." His eyes were dark, intense, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher, but it made your stomach twist with a mixture of fear and something else you were ashamed to nameㅡ you could try to deny it but the way your cunt pulsed when he talked to you that way was your biggest enemy. "Joel, please—" you started again, your voice shaky, but he cut you off with a low, humorless chuckle, his thumb brushing along your jaw, keeping you in place.

"Don't 'please' me, darlin'," he murmured, his voice dipping even lower, eyes now on your obvious cleavage. "You've been teasin’ me for years now, comin' ‘round lookin’ all sweet and innocent, actin' like you didn’t know what you were doin’. Always starin' at me with those big eyes, waitin' for me to make a wrong move." he was right and you hated to admit it. he held you firm, his grip unrelenting. " I didn't mean—"

"Oh, I think you meant every bit of it," he said, his lips curling into a small smile, head lowering. "But now look where that’s got you. You came to me for help, and I agreed to help, didn’t I? Now it’s time to give somethin' back." your pulse thudded loudly in your ears, drowning out everything but him, his voice, the feeling of him so close. You’d never thought it would be like this, not with Joel. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, caught between the fantasy you'd let grow over the years and the reality of what was happening now.

"You're gonna be good for me, aren't you? Gonna be a good little girl 'n let me have at you?" he asked, his voice a low rasp, like gravel scraping across your skin, the words sinking deep into your bones. "Yㅡyes." you say, voice was quiet, buried under the arousal, the want for more and his honey words. "Atta girl." Joel leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull back if you wanted to, but you didn't. You couldn't. Instead, you tilted your head up, closing the distance between you, your lips finally meeting his in a kiss. The moment his lips touched yours, it was like everything clicked into place. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty anymore. His kiss was slow but sure, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You sighed into him, hands instinctively resting on his chest, feeling the warmth of him, the roughness that made him like a drug to you.

a few moments pass, and joel pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips, one that he breaks when his rough thumb drags itself across your bottom lip. "pretty, pretty girl." you moan, you feel so pathetic. he's barely touched you, yet you feel the pool growing inside your panties by the second.

"p-please, joel.."

"please, what, angel cake? gotta tell me exactly what ya want." he smiles, prepping soft pecks onto your face. "t-touch me..please." you gather the courage to speak up, watching his eyes grow darker as he hears your request. "fuck, baby...what would your dad say if he heard you just then, huh? what if he saw what a cock desperate slut you are?" chuckling low, his fingers tangle themselves in your hair, making you whimper. "don't c-care.."

" 'Course you don't. Always knew you were a little whore. well, right now you'll be my little whore, right?" he tilts his head to the side, his thumb urging your mouth to open. "c'mon, girl, open." and you do as you're told, opening you mouth wide, tongue lulled out. he then gathers some spit in his mouth before letting the glistening droplet fall from his lips onto your tongue. "Swallow it. Let me seeㅡ" its so overwhelming, so dirty, and he didn't even do anything. at this moment, it feels as if only a slight nip at your skin could send you over the edge. "You know your place, yeah, baby?" you hum eagerly, not sure what his next request will be but ready to fulfill it and give him your all. "tell me. you really wanna do this." Guilt clawed at your heart. Yet, you couldn't stop what you felt. it was wrong, but in this moment, it felt so right. "need you, Joel, please.."

"fuck, okay angel."

his large hands start to pull at your clothes, undressing you slowly, savoring and drinking you up with his eyes. your naked body was shivering, you didn't know if it was from the temperature or because of the anticipation playing with your heartstringsㅡ you just knew you needed to give everything you had to Joel. make him proud. "i got you, babygirl." you feel yourself get picked up and placed onto the old leather couch in the middle of the living room, the cold surface making you jump a little. joel leans in, trailing soft kisses down the curve of your hip all the way to your mid thigh, as you try to bite back your moans. "Let me hear you, baby, don't hold back. you wanna make me proud, don't ya?" Oh, you do.

"gonna let me ruin you, angel girl?" and it feels like your heart could run a marathon. you nod away, eagerly. you feel so pathetic, all sprawled out naked under him, whilst he's still dressed. "words, baby. you that stupid already? I ain't even fucked you yet 'n you can't even say one word. tsk." he mocks you, twirling with your hardened nipples. "i'mㅡ please, joel, please..." you almost cry. he laughs, fingers finally reaching your dripping folds and swirling around them "fuck, darlin', you're so wet. all this for me, hm? this pussy cryin' for an old man like me?" he teases "yes, only f-for you...please."

"that's right." Joel kisses the side of your neck, nibbling at the skin whilst he finally pushes inside of you one of his rugged fingers, making your back jolt and arch. you cover your mouth with your palms, shocked by the own sound you just made. "Keep moanin' for me, little girl. let me hear how good I make you feel.." his words flood over you, as the knot in your tummy tightly turns, Joel's cologne swirling in your nostrils and getting you drunk off of it and this feeling. "so tight, baby. can't wait to feel you 'round my cock." you choke back a pathetic whine. "you like it? like it when i fuck you with my fingers and talk to you like this?" you nod, pushing yourself further onto his digits. "filthy girl, s'it turn you on when you're fucked out on an old man's fingers?"

"yesㅡ god, yes, please, joel, please, 'm so close." but then it all stops. you whine at the sudden lack of feeling, but you open your eyes and see Joel stand up.

your vision was hazy from all the tears in your eyes, and your heart felt stuck in your throat, but you watched the man discard himself of his clothes andㅡ holy. fucking. shit. all of your fantasies of Joel couldn't prepare you for what was going to happen. he stood there, tall, gruff as he stroked himself. his length was girthy, almost too thick, veiny, with a pinkish, angry tip. he knew he was huge. That's what made it so exciting for him. watching you gawk at his cock, made him feel more powerful over you.

"c'mon, angel, it won't bite...open wide now. widee ㅡ there you go...good little girl." he preaises, sliding his length between your lips. it was hard to adjust, and honestly, your jaw was hurting from the first couple of minutes you had him in your mouth. but the way his lips dripped with quiet moans, 'goodgirls' and 'thats rights', it made you push back the pain. it was bearableㅡ it was worth it. "jesus christ, girl, you look so pretty, mouth full of my cock." the man laughs, pushing his length further down your warm throat that was constricting as you gagged around him. "shitㅡ gonna make me come already." hissing, he pulls out, leaving you gasping for air.

you look up at him, mascara smudged, lips swollen and blushed cheeks stained with tears and spit. "you're so gorgeous like this, baby. my gorgeous angel girl, begging for cock." he sighs, caressing you cheek before his hand slides down to wrap around your neck, squeezing it and making you light-headed. "gonna let me fuck you, darlin'? c'mon, answer."

"y-yes, please fuck m-me, Joel." joel scoffs, placing a little kiss on your forehead. with his other hand, he grabs his shaft and drags the tip along your folds, collecting all the juices that dripped from you. "fuckin' soaked for me, baby." and you hum a little 'only for you.' without stalling, he pushes in just the tip making you yelp as the sting spread through your pussy. you stare him deep in the eyes as he pushes in further, hushing you along the way. it was so bigㅡ too big. but you loved it, you loved that it was all you dreamed about and more. "I know, baby, I know. You're a good girl, you can take it." with that, he pushes in all the way, ripping through you, his precum mixing with your juices that were flowing over his cock. he thrusts in you cunningly, gripping your hips tightly and licking long strips down your neck. all you could do is sit there and take it. take it and make him proudㅡ you were paying him back, though.

"so pretty, angel, so, so pretty and tight 'f me, shitㅡ " joel moans, indulging further into you. your hips crash with his, and you try your best to say quiet as you feel his cock hit so deep, you're sure it reached your stomach. the room spun with you, you could only mutter little 'joels' as he pounded into you. after a few more pumps that familiar feeling was pooling at your core, causing you to tighten around Joel's length, which made him grunt and pull your hips flush to his "that's it, girl. come around my cock, let me feel ya squeezin' me."

you let go. bliss and pleasure take over you as your body contorts under joel, your walls fluttering around his shaft perfectly, eyes rolling to the back of your head. it doesn't take him long reach his orgasm, pumping a few more times into you before he take his cock out and paints your stomach and breasts with white, silky strands.

this all really happened.

After you both come down from your high, you cup his face in your warm palms, your stare tied to his. Joel's eyes were soft, warm, and filled with something you'd never seen beforeㅡ something that made your heart swell even more and realize what just went down between you two. "Should've done that a long time ago," he said with a soft, crooked smile, his thumb brushing against your cheek, still a little out of breath. You laughed lightly, still caught in the moment. "Yeah, you should've." His smile grew, and he leaned in again, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You know this changes things, right?"

"I know," you whispered, feeling the truth of it all settle into your bones. "I want it to."

[auspicioustidings]

What I think the members of the 141 would get you for the team secret santa.

Price is somewhat of a respectable man and appreciates this is a professional setting, so even though the bottle of whiskey so nice it is well over budget is certainly contraband, it is at least not a severe HR violation.

Gaz gives gifts that are insults without meaning it. He genuinely thinks it's sweet that you enjoy cooking so of course he is going to get you a cook book for bad cooks so you can get better!

Ghost gets you a knife. A very, very nice knife. There's definitely blood on it and you are too afraid to ask.

Soap has the entire HR department feeling a shiver up their spine somewhere because you are full on opening some monstrosity of a Nessie tail sex toy complete with Scottish whiskey flavoured lube that comes in a bottle with the MacTavish tartan pattern on it.

[glitteringsunshine]

Pairing : Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader Wife

 

You sit in Jethro’s  basement taking swigs of his whiskey bottle. You had a scowl on your face. You are fuming at Jethro; your husband. The bratty side of you pondered on vandalizing  the boat he was working on. But did not  do so because he is naming it after you.  The kids were away on a field trip. Your husband Jethro is still at work and you curled up on his workbench contemplating the day's events. It’s amusing how you are mad at NCIS SSA Leroy Jethro Gibbs but still seek out his comfort as your husband. You are wearing his hoodie,  basking in his basement,  well this is your basement too. You feel yourself all choked up.  You and Jethro had a huge fight regarding budget allocation to state and Defence. You two were managing the division of resources for your respective  departments. In the end Jethro got his way. The resources were allocated to Defence , primarily to the navy.

 

You hear Jethro coming down to the basement. You heard his car pull up. “ Bastard” you say looking at him.  

“ Stop testing me” he said with pure command. But you are unfazed.

“ Let’s see how much you can take before I get under your skin. “ You openly challenge getting up and moving closer to him.

“ Careful Y/N”

“ Or. What?” you roll your eyes.

“You can’t  undermine me like this , without  any consequences.  I have a job to do.”

“ Me too. “ You say bitterly. 

“ Why do you make doing  my Job so difficult  Y/N?” he says his lips inches away from yours.

“ Why do you make it so difficult  for me Jethro?” you ask, the sexual tension palpable  in the air.

He grabbed wrists pushing you against the workbench , before moving you forward towards him by grabbing your waist. You felt his lips on yours.  It was demanding, punishing. Both of you fought for dominance, with tongues and teeth.  Finally it seemed like ages when you two broke the kiss for air. He flipped you on your stomach on the workbench. He bunched up your  denim skirt spreading your legs with his knees. You gasped at the sheer sexual pull of it. “ Shh quiet “ he whispered, his voice hoarse.

“ Yes” you whisper.

“ So you do know how to listen” he chuckled.

He moved your panties to a side feeling the dampness.

“ So wet “ he chuckled.  

“ You want this right?” he ensured as you nodded. Like a true gentleman  he still asks even after so many years of marriage.

He fingered your clit pumping his fingers inside, hitting the right spots.

As you get on the edge, he withdrew his finger, tasting your slick wetness on his fingers. You whine. He chuckled.

“ Beg “ he whispers.

You glare  at him.

He brushed your lips with his fingers before shoving it inside your mouth and you suck, an act of submission.

He withdrew his fingers before pumping it in your pussy.

“ Jethro please” you whine.

“ Please what kid?” he asks

“ I, I …” you mumble unable to form a coherent thought in your mind as you feel the pleasure.

“ Tell me baby girl? What do you want ? Do you want to cum?”

“ Yes , please. Please let me cum. Fuck Jethro oh fuck I want you so bad “ you ramble.

“ Good girl”  he whispers in your ears before nuzzling at your neck as he pumped his fingers harder while rubbing your clit. “ Now cum for me kid.” He commands.

You unfurl at his command your pussy walls spamming against his fingers as your juices flow out.  

He tastes you again on his fingers before rubbing your cheeks and softly kissing  your forehead.

He undid his belt and you heard him unzipping his pants. He lines his cock with your pussy.

“ You ready?” he asks ensuring you are all right.

“ Yes. “ You whisper.

“ Now take it like a good girl” he whispers as he fucks you hard from behind. Soon you feel the pleasure build and Jethro realises that  you are close.

Go ahead he says and you cum on his cock. He holds you steady as you come out of your high. He then flips you and cages you under him. As he thrusts inside you  hold him tightly, closing your eyes.

“ Look at me “ he says as his thrusts became harder. He held you close tight against him as your eyes met. You see his love for you. Your eyes reflects the same. You wrap your legs around him as he squeezes your hands.  You two cum together.  He kisses you gently moving the hair away from your forehead.  He takes your hand and gently  kisses it.

“ You Okay” he asks softly.

“ Yes” you nod.

“How about a bath ?” he asks. He knows how aftercare is important.  You nod . He carries you to the bathroom. He joins you rubbing your shoulders and nuzzle at your neck. You feel lovely.

“ What ?” he asks as something strikes you suddenly.

“ I know how to get my budget without curtailing yours” you say. “ But it can wait till morning”.

“ Good. I love you wifey” he whispers.

“ I love you too Jethro.”

[deerlysacred]

✧ i'll be summer sun for you forever . . . | s2 dean winchester x witch fem!reader

💌 𝄢 angst & fluff & smut

♫ 𝄢 concept song : forever winter - taylor swift ❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

🌜𝄢 that scar on his forehead makes him x 10000 hotter...

‼️ 𝄢 i do not own supernatural or any of its characters; all rights belong to their respective creators. this is purely a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only, with no intention of profit.

The summer rain pattered softly against the motel room's window, the overcast sky washing the room in dull grays. Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, a ragged duffle bag at his feet, his shoulders hunched forward like he was holding the weight of the world— and maybe he was. He's been like this since John died : quiet, unreachable. His fingers wrapped around a beer bottle, nearly empty, and the TV's nearly muted, the low-budget slasher movie flashing faint colors across his face.

You smoothed out his dark jeans, trying to make the creases look less like they'd been through a war zone. Folding laundry wasn't exactly the most fun thing to do, but it gave your hands something to do so. Because if not, you were afraid they would betray you by doing something stupid, like reaching out to touch his arm. Or his hair. Or— nope, shut that thought down.

"Y'know, you don't have to do that." His voice cut through the static in the room, low and gruff. He didn't even look at you as you were folding his flannel. "Not like I asked you to play house or whatever."

Okay. Ouch. You froze mid-fold, the flannel dangling awkwardly from your hands like you'd forgotten what laundry even was. For a second, you considered apologizing, but instead, your brain decided to replay every single time you apologized to Dean and he just got more annoyed. Because that's helpful.

It's fine. He's just grieving. He's not mad at me, he's mad at… life? Fate? Having to wait until he heal fully so he can repair Baby?

"You gonna say somethin'," he muttered, his lips pulling into a faint sneer. "Or are we just gonna sit here, you foldin' my crap like a goddamn Hallmark commercial?"

Oh, God. He thinks I'm being weird.

"I... uh... just thought you'd want your stuff… not wrinkled?" you stammered, immediately cringing at how lame that sounded. Who cared about wrinkles when your dad just died?

He didn't even look at you let alone answer you, he just took a big sip from his beer. Okay... Change the subject.

"So..." you said, carefully folding another shirt. "Do you ever wear anything that isn't flannel? Or do you and Sam just split one big closet at every Bass Pro Shop you hit on the road?"

Dean's lip twitched, but he kept his gaze on the TV. "Flannel's classic. Timeless. And it's practical. You can fight in it, sleep in it. Hell, you can even use it to tie someone up if things get kinky." His smirk widened at that, looking at your working fingers —or wrists...— as he attempted to take a one more sip, a few drops fell on his lap. "Why? Want me to follow the latest trends blogs as 'm ganking a vamp?"

Oh, hell no.

You acted like you didn't realize his subtle (?) glance at your wrists, just spoke softly as you put the shirts in one place. "No... These... They suit you. They really do... Just, curious."

He nodded, a low 'tch' coming out of his lips. "Yeah, you be like that."

Prick.

You just rolled your eyes and then knelt on the floor by Dean's bed, his duffle bag in front of you, the smell of old leather and motor oil wafting up as you unzipped it. God, this thing is like Pandora's box. There was no telling what kind of apocalyptic horrors I might uncover. Socks? Sure. Bullets? Probably. Random chicks' numbers on whiskey-stained paper pieces? Duh.

Please, no condoms. Please, no condoms... you thought as your hands dipped inside.

You grabbed something and tugged it up, blinking when you realized what it was : John's journal.

Your heart sank. "Oh." The word slipped out before you could stop it.

Dean's head snapped up at the sound. His eyes darted to the journal in your hands, and in an instant, his green eyes narrowed.

“Gimme that!" he barked, already on his feet. He crossed the room in two quick strides.

"I was just—" You didn't even get the chance to finish. He snatched the journal from your hands harshly.

"Don't touch my stuff." he snapped, his voice cold. It felt like a slap. "You don't get to just… go through my bag." His fingers curled around the journal like an upset little kid hugging his favorite plushie, an anchor for him.

You blinked up at him, guilt creeping into you. "I was emptying the bag so I could—"

"Doesn't matter," he cut you off, his voice low but shaking. "Just… don't."

Dean turned away from you, pacing to the other side of the room. His grip on the journal didn't loosen. If anything, it looked like he was trying to crush it in his hands.

You stood up, heart beating nervously as you watched his shoulders rise and fall with heavy breaths.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice quieter yet still rough. "You think I like this? That I'm bein' like this on purpose? But I can't just—" He broke off, shaking his head.

Your stomach twisted, the weight of his grief thick in the air. You wanted to step forward, to just, hug him and hold him. You had this need to comfort him ever since the day his entire world crushed in that hospital room. But you knew better than to push him so early, so you just waited. You two just stayed silent, you couldn't see Dean's eyes since his back was turned to you but you could guess he was looking at the ground.

Then suddenly, he spoke, his voice trembling like he couldn't keep the words in anymore.

"Do you know what he said to me before he died? I mean... What the yellow-eyed told me when it was in dad's body..." He gulped, licking his lips before he turned to look at you, he looked like he could break down at any second. "Azazel told me… that dad loved Sam more than me." He laughed, but it was bitter, hollow. "Can you believe that? All this time, I thought… I thought I was doing everything right. Following orders, being the good soldier. The good perfect hunter he trained me to be, ever since I was 4. And for what? So he could…" Dean trailed off, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

You stayed quiet, frozen in place, not trusting yourself to speak. You felt your eyes watering as you waited for him to say more.

Dean finally looked at you then, his eyes hard and glassy, his voice breaking, tired. "I don't even know if it's true. But it's all I can think about. Every fuckin' time I close my eyes, it's there. That voice. That… goddamn voice." He gripped his messy dark blond hair and messed it up even more, closing eyes for a while to gather himself. "Doesn't matter, though. None of it matters. He's gone. And I can't—" His voice cracked, and he cut himself off, turning away even more from you like he couldn't stand to let you see him like this.

You didn't think much before you crossed the small space between you and Dean. His back was turned, his shoulders stiff as he stared down at the journal in his hands. For a moment, you hesitated, your arms half-lifting before dropping awkwardly.

What if he pushes me away? What if I make things worse?

But then, without another thought, you moved closer. Carefully, your arms slid around his middle, your cheek pressing lightly against the worn cotton of his shirt. His body tensed immediately, his muscles going rigid beneath your touch.

“Y/N…” His voice was low, almost strained, like he was already trying to push you away with words alone. He shifted, trying to step out of your grasp, but you only tightened your hold, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt.

"It's okay," you murmured, the words barely hearable with the rain tapping steadily against the window. "I'm here. You're allowed to cry, to... Let it all out.”

Dean’s breath hitched sharply, his chest rising and falling in uneven jerks. "I'm fine," he rasped, but his voice cracked. "I don't need—"

Then he finally pulled away from you only to look down at your eyes, his pupils widened, like he was searching for something in you that he couldn't find in himself. The air between you shifted, the space filled with a tension that wasn't just grief and yearning. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, and your breath caught.

It was Dean who moved first. His hand, rough and calloused, cupped your cheek to make you rise on your tiptoes, pulling you towards him as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was hard, almost desperate, his lips were warm, slightly chapped (because of course they were), and way too good at this.

Wait. Is this happening? This is happening. Oh, crap. OH, CRAP. Dean Winchester is kissing me. What do I do? What do I do with my hands? Am I supposed to breathe? No, wait, don't breathe through your nose too hard, you'll sound like Darth Vader.

Before you could make a move, he tugged you closer, his hands firm but not rough as they guided you back onto the bed. The mattress creaked under your combined weight.

Dean's legs settled between yours, his lips moved to your neck to alternate between gentle kisses and demanding suckings. "God, I've been thinkin' about this..." he murmured, his voice gravelly and low. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin on your throat, and holy hell, that should've come with a warning sign beforehand.

"Dean—" His name slipped out before you could stop it, breathless and probably too needy, but the way his hands tightened on your waist told you he liked it. Maybe too much.

"Yeah?" His voice was a low rumble against your neck, his lips brushing against your pulse. "That sound like you want me to stop?"

Stop? STOP?! Who would ever—

"N-No." A sound that was a mix of whining and whimpering came out of your lips. "Keep going... Please?"

He reacted with his usual Dean-Winchester-Patented smirk. Damn that smirk. "You're so damn beautiful," he whispered against your lips, his voice rough. "You don't even see it, do you? You can't, not like I do, not like I will."

His hand slid down your thigh, guiding your skirt and underwear off in one smooth motion, his breath hitching. His gaze lingered on the delicate folds between your thighs, drinking in the sight of you laid out before him like an offering, undeniably beautiful. A low growl rumbled in his chest. "Fuck, look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So perfect." With a gentle tug, he guided your legs apart, creating a delicious space for himself.

You swore your soul left your body for a second. So this is what it's like to die a happy woman. Good to know.

He leaned in, breath hot against your slick flesh as he inhaled deeply, taking in your unique scent. "Christ, you smell incredible..." he groaned, nuzzling his nose to your thigh. Slowly, deliberately, he dragged his tongue along your slit, savoring every taste. You whimpered softly, biting down on your bottom lip to stifle them. His stubble scraped lightly against your inner thighs, sending shivers through you as he smacked your already dripping pussy, not too rough but not too gentle, making your eyes widen with shock and pleasure. "Shhh, let me hear ya..."

He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you suirm. He dipped lower, delving into your core with long, deep strokes of his tongue. Fucking you with his tongue, making you curl your toes, moan louder and louder each passing second.

While he kept eating you out, his strong hand pulled down on your top's buttons impatiently, making them fly away. You gasped as the air made your nipples harden even more, he started to palm your breast, his thumb focused on playing with your nipple as he feasted on you like a man starved. He picked up the pace, driving two fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping channel with his free hand. The combination of his mouth on your clit, his hand toying with your tits and his fingers pumping in and out of you had you screaming.

"A—Ah! Oh God... Fuck... Dean..!" Your back arched off the bed, making him pin your thighs still. Dean smirked and spoke heavily while his glistening lips were still against your folds, cooing. "Aww, too much already? How you gonna take my cock stretching you open if you can barely take this, sweetheart?"

Suddenly, Dean pulled back, leaving you gasping and wanting for more. "Guess we'll find out." He sat up, his eyes blazing with hunger as he quickly shed all his clothes.

Oh. Oh my God.

His cock sprang free, hard and heavy. The bulbous head glinted with a bead of precum, while the shaft was a delicious mix of dark pink and creamy white. Ridges of prominent veins ran along the length, making your pussy clench around nothing.

He was way bigger than you guessed, Dean smirked when he saw your reaction. "Saw somethin' you like, doll?" He gave a few stroke to his cock as he searched for a condom in the nightstand's drawer. Meanwhile, your hazey eyes were just watching his cock pulse and move while he rummaged the stuff.

Nope. Not fitting in there. Absolutely not.

"Ah, there you are." he muttered, producing a foil packet. He tore it open with his teeth, using his thumb to unroll the condom over his throbbing length. The latex stretched taut around his girth, providing a slick barrier between skin and skin.

He suddenly pushed you to fully lay on the bed, getting on top of you. He grasped your chin firmly, forcing you to keep a stable eye contact with him as his green eyes looked down at yours, the head of his dick nudging insistently against your heat. "Tell me you want it," he commanded, his voice low and rough with lust. "Tell me you're mine to use however I please."

That voice, his dominance, it shot straight to your stomach.

Or lower... God help me.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck, not even trying to filter your need for him anymore. "I'm yours... I'm yours, please... Use me how you'd like, fill me up, Dean..."

Dean's eyes darkened with primal desire at your plea, his grip on your hips tightening. With a slow, deliberate push, Dean sank the first inch of his thick cock into your warm heat. Your eyelids fluttered shut, a sheen of sweat glistening on your brow as you whimpered loudly, hurting so fucking good.

Your inner muscles clenched around him, drawing him in further. He forced himself to stay in control and not just start fucking you like a caveman, pausing, giving you a moment to adjust to his size before carefully pushing another inch inside.

"Fuuuck, you feel incredible," he panted, his forehead dipping to rest against yours as he paused, barely halfway in. His eyes searched yours, needy and possessive. "Look at me, baby. Let me see those pretty eyes while I fuck you 'till your pussy knows the shape of my cock." As you met his intense gaze, he rocked his hips, gliding the final stretch of his length into you with a soft, satisfied grunt. He stilled for a moment, giving you time to adjust to the fullness before withdrawing slightly until only the tip stays in and pushing back in, setting a gentle rhythm for a while.

Then, after your body got used to him inside you, Dean's hips snapped back and forward, burying all of his cock to the hilt in brutal thrusts even deeper. A sharp cry tore from your throat as he stretched you wide, the sudden intensity overwhelming your senses.

"Oh fuck yes!" Dean roared, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he set a relentless pace. He pistoned in and out of you with savage abandon, each powerful stroke sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain coursing through your body.

Your nails dug into his back, your eyes rolled back as you were whimpering his name like a mantra over and over again. Dean's guttural grunts and the lewd slap of flesh on flesh filled the room. "Take it, my naughty little slut!" Dean snarled, his words punctuated by deep, punishing drives of his cock.

"Fucking hell, you were made for this," Dean panted, his eyes wild with lust as he watched his cock disappear into your convulsing depths again and again. "Such a greedy little cunt, milking my dick greedy." The headboard rattled against the wall with each savage thrust, the metal frame creaking in protest. Dean's thrusts grew shorter and more erratic, his orgasm approaching.

The room spun, sounds blurred, until there was only the primal rhythm of your coupling. "Come with me, baby. Take it, take it, take it!" Dean growled, his voice a husky command. His words, spoken in that rough, dominant tone, were the final trigger. You felt the coil inside you snap, releasing a torrent of ecstasy that crashed over you like waves. Your inner walls spasmed wildly around Dean's cock, clenching as you shook apart beneath him. At the same moment, Dean let out a feral roar, his hips jerking erratically as he buried himself to the hilt.

As the last tremors subsided, Dean collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning over your damp skin as he struggled to catch his breath.

You wrapped your arms around him, still shaking slightly because of the intensity of the pleasure. You two stayed still like that for a few minutes, just listening the rain and bird sounds coming from outside, bare, skin to skin, satisfied. Dean chuckled into your neck, kissing the faint hickeys gently. A shy and tired smile appeared on your lips, holding him tighter.

Wow. Yeah, this is fine. Totally fine. Very casual. Just fucked Dean freaking Winchester. No big deal. This is —oh, wow, his skin is all over me. That's— yep, that's nice. Very nice. VERY NICE.

Dean pulled back just slightly, his eyes locking on yours, and the smirk that spread across his lips was both infuriating and ridiculously hot. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" He bumped your noses, murmuring low before he captured your lips in a deep, all tongue and teeth kiss. "Or did I?"

You rested your cheek against his shoulder, the warmth of his skin grounding you. His scent —leather, whiskey, and him— wrapped around you like a blanket. It was comforting, in a strange, Dean-specific way. You ran your fingers lightly over his chest, tracing invisible patterns, trying to soothe him, even if you knew it wouldn't ease his mind no matter how much time he spent tangled in the sheets lost in the haze.

"You okay?" you finally whispered, your voice soft.

He didn't answer right away. His jaw flexed, his lips pressing into a hard line. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, raw, and tinged with the weight he couldn't shake. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Yeah. Right, he was pulling back behind his walls again. You didn't press, though. Not yet. Instead, you shifted closer, draping your arm over his middle and squeezing him gently, hoping it was enough to let him know you were there.

You played with his hair as he rested his head against your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your waist. His breathing began to even out, his body relaxing against yours as exhaustion was taking over slowly.

"You don't have to be the strong one, the one who always sucks it up and carries all the baggage," you whispered, your voice soothing Dean with the rain. "Not anymore."

But even you didn't believe what you said.

Dean let out a soft, humorless chuckle, his voice gruff. "Actually, I do. Even more now." He sighed, the sound resigned. "But thanks for pretending I don't. Just for a little while."

You tightened your grip on him, your fingers still carding through his hair. "Anytime, Dean."

Eventually, the two of you drifted off like that, tangled together, the rain lulling you into a fragile, fleeting peace.

[la-bruja]

when you dont know if u wanna kiss him or fight him

GHOSTBAR shines brightly in the late hours of the light, its luminous green neon colors discerningly familiar for unknown reasons. The lights sit heavy on the smog of Gotham, casting a soft green glow upon the people standing in line outside the bar. As the people chatter and move the green swirls in the air around them.

Jason shook off the chill of the night and walked ahead of the line. Ignoring the shouts behind him, he tossed a smug smile to the bouncer and flipped off the line of patrons as he entered the bar. With Bruce's platinum credit card, he's surely able to afford any of the high priced alcohol at this bougie ass high end bar. Of course, none of the colorful drinks will be for him. He's only here for information.

Jason sidles up the bar, squeezing his broad self in-between two others and flags down the bartender. He flashes the silver card at the man, ”Whiskey on the Rocks. And make it quick, will you?“ The bartender rolls his green eyes, and snatches the card out of Jason's hand. ”Starting a tab?“

Jason smiles, all teeth. ”Sure thing, sweetheart. And bring something sweet and fruity for these lovely ladies next to me.“

The bartender huffs and moves away, to make the over-priced drinks and possibly over-charge Jason even more on the tab for his attitude.

His working girls giggles at him, and one of them gives him a kiss for his attitude before dropping back onto the bar-stool next to him. He feels the lipstick linger and has to make an active choice to not wipe it away.

Jason feels one of the others drape herself over his shoulders, her acrylic nails raking up his bare arms, leaving tiny raised red lines. Her warm breath ghosts over his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

”Rumor says The Penguin tried to bluster his way in and the owner kicked him straight out. Threatened to take a bat to his knees, even.“

Jason gives a surprised chuckle that gets lost in the harsh EDM music that thumps around them. ”A man after my own heart.”

The bartender returns, with enough drinks for all the ladies around him, and with a basket of fries. The fries are covered in cheesy nacho sauce and ground meat. There's also a disconcertingly vibrant green sauce swirled on top, its sheen disturbing under the artificial lights of the club. The bartender slides Jason a take-away tin of ranch and a bottle of ketchup to go with the fries.

The lights finally flicker to shine utop the bartender and Jason can see that his name tag reads DANNY and that he is wearing a he/him pin on his vest. The black text is stark against the white ghost shape pin. Jason's flicks his eyes up, and they catch on the man's matching skunk stripe. The white is bright, almost glowing against Danny's dark almost raven black hair. Suddenly his vibrant green eyes feels like a threat and Jason has to swallow down the urge to take a swing.

Danny grins at him, canines peeking out from under black lips, his lipstick slightly smudged. His eyeliner is also smudged in the exact manner that Danny's eyes crinkle and Jason feels the urge to fight simply whoosh out of him. Unsettling, but necessary.

”No worries big guy, seems like you need it.“ Danny blows him a kiss and moves onto other patrons.

Jezzabelle laughs and gives Jason a matching kiss on his other cheek. Her hand lingers on his shoulder and Jason lets himself be pulled further into her personal space. Her nose buries into his hair and Jason gets a strong whiff of her perfume. It smells like cheap vanilla, with cinnamon? Out of season for this time of the year. He'll have to up the budget for them.

”Not everyone gets that specialty but it seems that only metas or the meta-adjacent gets it.“ She murmurs.

Jezzabelle pulls away only to lean back in and press a kiss to his hairline. Jason rolls his eyes and valiantly does not wipe it away. Jezzabelle laughs, her hand coming up to hide her smile while the other one swipes at his fries, taking a few that don't have the mysterious green sauce.

Well. At least Jason finally knows why there's been an upsurgence in meta powers happening in the alley. He pretends to nurse his whiskey, occasionally spilling some when he's sure no one will notice. Making up his mind, Jason sets down the glass, the ice cubes barely clinking under the pounding music, and reaches for the basket of fries, dragging it closer to him.

Uncertainly, Jason decides to pour the ranch over the fries, making sure to smother the green sauce. He musters his lackluster appetite and takes a bite of the loaded fries. It tastes like the best greasy junk food he's ever had. Jason apologizes to the chili dogs of his childhood and begins to devour the fries. The bartender drifts by and slides him another whiskey.

Danny gestures to the empty glasses of the working girls that were sitting near him and Jason nods his ascent. Danny winks, blows Jason another kiss and whisks off. Jason feels his shoulders relax, and grabs his new whiskey, and just fucking downs it in one go.

Jason. Doesn't know why he just did that. He feels suddenly anxious and stands up. His body tips, hips bumping into the bar. It jostles him. The pounding of the music matches the beat of his heart. And all of a sudden, Jason feels relaxed and he leisurely swings his glass in the air, catching Danny's attention. He's in the middle of shaking some drinks for the women at the other side of the bar.

“Another round for any lovely lady! On the house!” Jason yells, he's certain he's drowned out by whatever music is playing and he doesn't find it in himself to care.

Danny smiles, eyes crinkling and eyeliner smudging. He tells the women he's serving the good news and they cheer. Danny hands them their drinks and then blows another kiss to Jason. The gathered ladies laugh and also drunkenly blow him another kiss.

Jason throws his head and laughs. He sits drunkenly back onto the bar-stool. He shouldn't be this out of it over a glass of whiskey. The loaded fries shimmer in front of him, and Jason simply can't resist the temptation.

[winkle-pickers]

Finally got the server together, cracked open a few bottles of wine & whiskey at our various locations throughout the continent, and watched this piece of cinéma which has been making the rounds on tumblr. Spoiler alert: It's. SO GOOD

Highlights include:

Yugi's wig actively fighting for its life in every scene

Téa and Mai get to duel each other!!

Bandit Keith. REX. RAPTOR.

The guy who plays Kaiba puts his entire pussy into a frankly bang-on Eric Stuart impression. Also is clearly the cast member who has seen the anime the most times

The scene where you can visibly see the budget doubling. Joey's hair volume also abruptly doubles in this scene

The guy who plays Yugi uses his actual baby to play Baby Yugi (who is in the film for ???? reasons) and then properly credits the baby at the end

The words "Millennial Pieces" are uttered, and I won't tell you by whom

Server conjecture is that the Duel Monsters may have been modeled in Second Life

I swear to god this is barely even a fraction of spoilers. There's so much more. I didn't even get into Mokuba "Tommy Wiseau" Kaiba or....the whole thing Grandpa's got going on.

WATCH IT. It's free on Tubi and only 45min. The Millennial Pieces compel you

[emma23]

A billionaire’s dinner party :

Nathan bateman x reader

The evening began with chaos—not the dramatic, world-ending kind Nathan loved to debate about, but the more relatable chaos of too many group chats and bad timing.

"Y/N, you promised you'd come tonight!" Sarah, her overly dramatic best friend, said through the phone, her voice at peak distress levels.

"I know, but I told Nathan I’d go over to his place for dinner," Y/N explained, pacing her apartment in socked feet.

"He’s a billionaire. He’ll survive one night without you," Sarah huffed.

"That’s not how relationships work, Sarah," Y/N replied, trying to juggle guilt and irritation.

"Come on! Emma's cat threw up on her dress, we don’t have enough booze, and the karaoke machine is busted. You're the glue of this friend group!"

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. Nathan’s dinner plans were probably extravagant, borderline ridiculous, and perfectly him. But her friends clearly needed her.

"Fine," she sighed. "I’ll be there."

At Nathan’s minimalist, high-tech fortress of a home, Y/N stared at him as she broke the news.

"So, let me get this straight," Nathan said, leaning against his countertop, whiskey in hand. "You’re bailing on me—your boyfriend, the genius billionaire who hand-built the AI that’s revolutionizing the planet—to rescue your friends from some low-budget social disaster?"

"Yes," she said, trying to sound firm. "They need me."

Nathan took a slow sip, his dark eyes narrowing playfully. "Wow, Y/N. Brutal."

She rolled her eyes. "Don’t guilt-trip me, Nathan. It’s one night. I'll make it up to you."

He smirked. "Oh, you will. Believe me, you will."

Y/N expected Nathan to sulk the rest of the night. He wasn’t the kind of guy who handled rejection gracefully. But she underestimated him.

Halfway through karaoke (Emma belting out an off-key version of Shallow), there was a knock at the door.

"Who’s that?" Sarah asked, suspicious.

Y/N shrugged and opened it, only to find a deliveryman holding several wine bottles and takeout bags.

"Delivery for Y/N," the guy said, handing her the goods.

She frowned, baffled. "I didn’t order—"

A text buzzed on her phone.

Nathan: "I promised you dinner. A cancellation isn’t going to stop that. Enjoy."

Her jaw dropped.

"Who’s it from?" Sarah asked, peeking over her shoulder.

"My boyfriend," Y/N said, trying not to laugh as she unloaded the bags. "Apparently, he’s still feeding me dinner."

The spread was absurd—lobster rolls, truffle pasta, artisanal pizza, and enough wine to open a small bar. Her friends went silent, staring at the food like it was sent from another dimension.

"Y/N," Emma said slowly, "is your boyfriend... secretly Tony Stark?"

"No," Y/N replied. "He’s Nathan Bateman, which is arguably worse."

Hours later, Y/N slipped away to call Nathan.

"You know," she said when he picked up, "this kind of makes it impossible to be mad at you."

"Good," Nathan replied smugly. "That was the goal."

"You’re ridiculous," she said, but there was affection in her tone.

"Ridiculously thoughtful, maybe," he shot back. "So, did I win the friend group over, or do I need to send karaoke backup?"

"They love you now, and I hate it," Y/N joked.

Nathan chuckled. "Don’t forget, you still owe me."

"Oh, I haven’t forgotten," she said, a playful edge to her voice.

"Good," he murmured. "Because when you get back, we’re going to discuss exactly how you’ll repay me."

Y/N returned home close to midnight, exhausted but buzzing with wine and laughter. Nathan was sprawled on the couch, shirtless, a glass of whiskey in hand.

"Well?" he asked as she walked in.

"You’re insufferable," she replied, dropping her bag and climbing onto the couch beside him.

"And yet, here you are," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She rested her head on his chest, smiling despite herself.

"You know," she said, "you could’ve just let me go without making a scene."

Nathan smirked, tilting her chin up to look at him. "But where’s the fun in that?"

She rolled her eyes but kissed him anyway.

The next morning, she found a note on the counter:

"Next time, I’m coming to karaoke. Try to stop me."

Underneath, he’d drawn a disturbingly accurate caricature of her friends mid-song.

"How did I end up with this guy?" Y/N muttered, shaking her head.

From the couch, Nathan called out, "Because I’m a genius, obviously!"

[megustacat]

30 Jason Mendal Head Canons - Imagines from someone who does not like him so much

◎━━━━━━◎.◈.◎━━━━━━◎

non-explicit but slight nsfw mentions below

◎━━━━━━◎.◈.◎━━━━━━◎

Enjoys and collects expensive whiskeys from all around the world, also collects cigars - especially the Cuban ones.

Gets a kick out of power - will keep you in suspense because he likes to see you struggle and then releases you as the relieving savior that he is (and yes, I mean that in every possible way).

Has a collection of several black suits which are all the same model.  

Goes for Sunday drives in one of his cabrios as soon as there is one single ray of sunshine out - also drives like an asshole and will tailgate you even if you are already 10 over speed limit. Road rage is real with him.

Has a pool table room in his mansion where he keeps his whiskey bottles neatly organized and plays pool against his visitors - he will always win and he will let you know that he is going to win.

Sore loser - especially in competitions he is good at.

As ambitious as it gets - will stay after hours and also work from home. Sundays are rarely a Sunday for him.

His love language is Giving Gifts - loves to buy clothes and jewelry for his partner, but also other trinkets and things that will serve as a constant reminder of him being in your life.  

Possessive. Will leave love bites all over you and will compromise little.

If he had to choose a pet he would go for a cat. It must be a black cat though and she has to be well behaved. Doesn’t like dogs and their blind loyalty and especially not their smell.

Red wine drinker. Almost as bad a divorced auntie.

Uses hand lotion and chapstick regularly but would not admit to it.

Reads the newspaper on a daily basis and puts a lot of importance on staying informed and on top of recent trends. Judges you if you are not interested in politics and economics and finds it childish to not stay involved in what is going on in the world.

Apple fanboy. Every tech item he owns is from Apple and he will immediately have the newest tech iterations on launch day.

Goes to opera but is not very interested in it. Sees that more as an opportunity to go there with potential clients and discuss business matters.

Always plans slightly over the briefed client budget and then argues with them. Is willing to go down but wants to test his clients. Can effort to lose the ones who are not willing to invest more, and also gladly lets them go.

Has an older sister, who’s a mean girl. Now that they are older they get along better and are mean girls together.

Bondage.

Is very charming when it comes to networking. Meeting new clients and other potential company leads for collaboration is easy for him and he is a sharp observer. Finds it easy to be charismatic and connect quickly and reads people like a book.

Private jet is love, private jet is life.

Loves to travel, especially with his partner. Not because he necessarily wants to see the world or the big wonders of it but because he wants to physically distance himself from his work. He takes it very seriously so actively seeking physical distance from it is one of his ways to get away from it for good.

Has a private coach with whom he works out a lot, at least three times a week, to keep himself healthy.

Generally puts a lot of emphasis on being and staying healthy, like eating well, working out, ergonomic working with standing desks, regular med checks up, to the point where he almost feels like a hypochondriac. Also loves to regularly have saunas.

Judging and directiv. Doesn’t like to elaborate on decisions, mostly wants to have them respected and followed. Also, very direct and ordering when he talks to people. You will hear him say “Listen here”, “Let’s do this”, “Talk to me” a lot in his speech pattern.

Follows in the steps of his father who expected him to also make it big, like him. Jason always felt pressure to accommodate and now that he succeeded over his father, it still seems like there is still no satisfaction. Does not have the best bond to him, but will always have his father as his biggest male influence in his life, seeking a never satisfied-approval from him and mostly finding frustration and criticism.

Plays Golf. Of course he does. Prepare to be the golf cart princess / prince, and pop a bottle of champagne every time he scores a hole in one. He lets you play as often as you like, but he likes it the most when he sees you cheer for him.

Actively participates in day-trading, and if he can’t do it he has a personal stock trader do it for him (which is most of the time because he is too busy with work).

Has a large selection of guide books for succeeding in various fields in life - whether that’s financials, work optimization, self-confidence, charisma and communication. If he reads fiction he likes to go for classics. Can and will judge you on your taste in literature. Finds poetry a waste of time.

His favorite movie director is Christopher Nolan and he can and will make you watch every single one of his movies. Could discuss Interstellar and Inception for hours on end.

Even though he prefers to have people follow his orders and respect his decisions without questioning them, he wants and needs you to go against him. He wants to have constant stimulation in his relationship, mostly in the form of receiving contra from you. It keeps him on his feet and specifically wants you to be different to the world around him. He doesn’t want you to go too far, and generally wants you to agree with him on basic ideologies, but he needs your backlash - it keeps his love for you alive.

[spn-con-cliffnotes]

SPN Nash 2024 gold panel

Would you consider doing any more horror movies? What are somethings you liked or miss about the genre? (3:30)

Jen: likes the genre, if opportunity arises then yeah. depends on if a) comes our way b) good project and c) available. depends largely who's involved, and budget size are very telling of quality of project. So close to doing a movie 1-2 years ago (really fun), didn't end up doing it for a variety of reasons, still hasn't watched it (proceeds to say "son of a bitch!"😂).

Jar: they are difficult to film: night filming (6pm-6am)

2. (Christmas question) Do you consider Die Hard Christmas movies? (7:56)

Jar: yeah...

Jen: any movie that takes place during the holidays is a christmas movie!! what's your go-to top 3 *to Jared*:

Jar: love actually, home alone, Christmas vacation

Jen: Jim Carrey's Grinch, Elf, Christmas Vacation. Krampus parade in European countries (speaking of horror), it looks like the orcs from lotr and "the scariest shit i've ever seen"

3. (pt 1: Do y'all drink whiskey?) (11:00) (pt. 2 Least fav memory filming spn?) (11:43)

Jen: "Do you have a question? I mean I guess the quesiton was 'do you drink whiskey' and now i'm holding a bottle in my hands." (11:30) "Should've just stuck with the whiskey question"

Jen: thinks for a minute the entire filming of bugs...

Jar: there was a bee wrangler

4. (16:50) senior in high school asking fav high school memory?

Jar: kind of about the people you stay in touch with. (it may change) and graduation "its been 13 years of your life; almost as long as supernatural" ties it to optimism of next chapter in life

Jen: A in trig (did not deserve) they went to huge high schools. got bullied by upperclassman when younger. getting through it and knowing some people that also experienced it sticks with you for the rest of your life; really special thing. "you only do this high school thing once, get as much as you can out of it"

5. (22:53) Have you ever used a ouija board irl?

Jar: not really?

Jen: used dowsing rods recentlly-ish in his house.

6. (25:17) Favorite meta time in Spn?

Jar: french mistake! (thought it was the end of the show)

Jen: likes the breaking of 4th wall *wink wink nudge nudge at Kripke)

7. (29:48) Jared drinking prop eggnog.

[anabdaniels]

Cowboytober Day 17: Cock Warming

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female reader

Word counting: 710

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Just Jack orbiting between being a whining baby and the marvelous husband he is.

Main Masterlist | Cowboytober Masterlist

Having to work on-site at the Statesman branch in New York was probably Jack’s top 1 nightmare. Yes, he hated those stupid online meets either, but even that was better than being in that city. He didn’t have anything personal against the city itself, but the whole metropolis thing was a pain in the ass for him: unending traffic, constant noise, everything was so similar and gray, and even on the spacious houses with well-sized backyards he had the feeling of being inside a cage.

The only thing that made him less miserable was having your company during the whole torturous process, pulling his CEO privileges to take you to work with him, or authorizing your entry into the building at any time.

That afternoon wasn’t an exception. Jack had various meetings in a row by the morning, when everything was solved, he ran back home, gladder than ever for having chosen a condo on Rose Hill that was just 10 minutes walking away from Statesman. After having lunch, complaining even about the grammage of the papers used for the company papers, and a 20 minutes nap, he was back at his office on the 39th floor, but fortunately, he had your company to make what was left of his shift more bearable, his stress magically disappearing every time he squeezed any part of you or when you moved to settle better on his lap, making his cock awake inside you once more.

Yes, the oldest and most effective way to make his day better. There was no soothing medicine or breath control technique that would make his day better so effectively as being buried into your warm core while reading all that boring paperwork, and, to be fair, you liked that; being all cozy on Jack’s lap while nonchalantly scrolling your phone, or being nosy on the Statesman papers, or simply snuggling against Jack’s chest.

“Are these made of gold or something?” you questioned while inspecting some random budget lists on his desk, one of which listed the price of a single sparkling wine bottle.

“What is it, darlin’?” Jack asked with a chuckle at your adorably shocked manner and looked at the paper “Well, it comes with a single diamond and some handmaid details in gold.” Jack smiled widely as you seemed even more shocked.

“I didn’t even know Statesman had such expensive ass things.” You said with a frown.

“If it makes you less shocked, we just manufacture it for another brand.”

“Well, it surely makes me less upset because you never gave me one to try.” You joked with a playful pout, smiling when Jack hugged you tight and kissed the curve of your neck.

“I’ll get you one before we go home.” He said calmly and kissed your cheek “You see why I need you around to work better?”

“Why do I have the feeling it ain’t only because of my dubious humor?” you wiggled your eyebrows softly while shifting a bit on his lap, feeling him tensing slightly.

“One thing complements the other.” Jack shrugged and pulled you slightly closer, resting your back against his chest.

“We can’t really interrupt your shift to have some fun?” you looked at him pouting once again, starting to get impatient with having such a limited taste of him.

“No, no, darlin’. I need to get these done today to finally fly back to Kentucky tonight if I have the chance.” He answered calmly, despite being serious “And you’ll keep pretty sat on my lap while sneaking into my paperwork.” He leaned slightly, pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Fine.” You agreed despite still wanting to move it further. When Jack got distracted again with his work, you took your chances, slowly grinding your hips back and forward on his lap, sighing with the feeling of his softened cock starting to grow hard inside you, but your fun was quickly cut by his arm wrapping around your hips and stopping you.

“Did you hear what I said?” he asked with a chuckle and kissed your temple, still looking at what he was reading.

“You can’t blame me for trying.” You laughed and grabbed the budget list back to resume your reading “I’ll judge Statesman’s expenses in the meantime.”

Tagging: @missladym1981 @alex-does-art-things @beefrobeefcal

[behindthesemasks]

20

Chapter 19

Gabe is on a mission...and he has one destination...

It seemed to take Gabe an hour to drive from the original hotel to the one that Mel and the others had now holed up in. After circling a few different blocks, he found a parking garage without surveillance to leave the SUV in and texted Mel that he was on the way up. That was when he turned his phone off and headed down to the street below, to walk the remaining way to the hotel. No doubt Ambrose would be making sure that the GPS trackers on the SUVs were being watched and trying to triangulate their locations by their phones.  While he would be able to find the SUV Gabe had driven, where he’d gone when he’d left the garage would be something that would take him longer to figure out.  The fact that all the others with Melania had also turned off their phones indicated that they too had thought of this.  

It was after 2 AM and there were no other people or vehicles in the area.  The area appeared deserted, although he could see lights behind curtains on the floors above street level.  Even if there were surveillance cameras in some of the shops and buildings he was passing, Gabe had turned up his collar to make it hard to see his face. One more step in making it harder for Ambrose to track them down.  There were only four blocks he had to navigate, but he was hoping to keep to the shadows and make the trek as quickly as possible.  He had been trusted not to give away their location.

Fifteen minutes after he’d stepped onto the street, he walked into the hotel lobby. It was bright and filled with old-world elegance. Marble floors, ornate furniture, and live flowers on every table; this was not your budget hotel. Bypassing the front desk, much to the interest of the desk clerk, Gabe headed straight for the elevators. He knew the room number and wanted to waste no time hanging out in areas where he could attract attention. Now he knew he had been on camera, but there was no way that the others could have made it up to the room without being recorded as well. Hopefully, there wasn’t a way to back door into the hotel’s security system.  He knew the type of men Ambrose hired, and if there was, they’d do it.

When he’d finally made it up to the room, he could hear laughing inside. Obviously, even if Mel had been tired, she hadn’t fallen asleep just yet. He knocked on the door and found himself yanked inside when the door cracked open. Facing him were Mel, Alexander, and Cade all sitting on the couch with bottles of wine, gin, whiskey, and scotch on the table in front of them. Judging from their demeanor, they had all enjoyed some while waiting for him.

“Feeling more relaxed?” Gabe asked with a bemused smirk as Dez headed back over to the chair he’d been sitting in.

Mel was on her feet and on the way over to him before he could finish asking the question. “I am now, you finally made it!” Her arms wrapped around him and her face was buried in his chest.

Instinctively his arms went around her and he held her in close. Only now did he notice the slight tremor in her body. His eyes looked questioningly at Alexander and Cade. What the hell was going on?

“She tried to sleep; needless to say some things cause horrible nightmares,” Alexander answered the silent question that hung in the air. “So, we decided to drown her in booze.” His hand gestured to all of the bottles on the table.

“Did you know she has five fake identities in her purse? They’re complete with driver’s licenses, passports, and credit cards. FIVE. Do you think the boss will let us keep her?” Dez had obviously had too much whiskey, but he did get a half-chuckle out of Gabe.

“She’s not a fucking pet asshole. And no, I doubt Ambrose would allow us to take her on missions. Although you would have been proud Gabe, the girl intimidated the ever-loving hell outta the front desk clerk that was here when we got in. I think he may have wet himself.” Alexander chuckled as he poured himself some more scotch. 

Cade moved over to one of the chairs, stretching his long legs out to rest atop the coffee table, as Mel and Gabe moved to sit on the couch. Mel was still all but trembling and Alexander put his arm around her shoulders when she sat down. He looked over at Gabe with an expression that said he was worried about her, but that it wasn’t the time or place to say anything. Gabe nodded, this wasn’t a great situation.

“If you guys want to go back to the other hotel, I’ll understand.” Mel’s voice was soft and quiet, hardly the woman any of them had seen earlier in the day at the hotel. 

“I don’t know about the other boys, but I was hired to keep your ass safe while you were here. I don’t see how I’d be doing that if I left you here. If Ambrose decides to take the money back…I’m not worried.” Cade was the first to answer. There was no hesitation or doubt in his voice as he looked over at her with a slight cocky smirk on his face, and then gave her a wink.

“I think my boy said it well enough. If I was doubting, I wouldn’t have shown up beautiful.” Gabe used two fingers under her chin to turn her face towards him, then kissed her forehead.

“I was never here just because of a job from Ambrose,” Alexander added, causing Mel to look over at him with affection. He really was like a big brother, and just as protective. 

“Fuck, if I wanted to go back, I wouldn’t have driven that damned SUV all the way out to the airport and had to take a cab back.” Dez laughed, winking over at her. 

“If your money is taken back, I’ll still pay you,” Mel said softly, even as she knew that didn’t seem to be a concern for any of them. When Cade started to object, since he was the one who had mentioned money, she added, “I’m worth more than Nic now that my parents are dead. And it means nothing to me.” Cade reached over and squeezed her fingers. Damn, the girl was stronger than she looked, both inside and outside.

“That reminds me, how the hell did you guys get here from the coffee shop? It’s quite a hike.” Gabe asked as his hand took Mel’s to keep hers from shaking. “And did you leave all the weapons out at the airport? Really?” He looked over at Dez.

“She has a Porsche SUV bro. A FUCKING PORSCHE.” Cade laughed. “And all the weapons are in the back safely in their cases. Well, except for the two cases that have the tracking devices in them. They’re at the airport along with the SUV, just no weapons in them.” He laughed. They had swept everything that they transferred between vehicles. There had been no tracing devices in any of it. All of them, knowing Nic and Ambrose, didn’t want to take any chances. 

Gabe nodded as he saw Mel’s head starting to nod. “I think it’s bedtime for you before you fall asleep on Alexander and me, then we’re pinned to the couch all night.” She laughed as he helped her up and to the bedroom on the right side of the small living room that had two beds in it. There was a bedroom on the other side that had two beds in it as well. He helped Mel off with her hiking boots and up onto the bed. Exhaustion, emotions, and the liquor were starting to have a strong effect on her. 

Alexander came in behind them, kicking off his shoes and flopping on the other bed in the room. “I’m taking this one, Dez snores when he’s drunk. You can have one of the beds in the room across the living room. Cade is going to take the first watch for the next few hours.” His words were slightly slurred as he was obviously drifting off to sleep.

Gabe looked down at Mel who was starting to drift off. He leaned over to place a kiss on her forehead. How could Klaus have been such an idiot as to not listen and just hang up on her? Furthermore, how was Erik an even bigger idiot for what he’d done? She was a woman who proved she wasn’t afraid and could be just as fierce as they could. Shaking his head, he began to back up.

Gorgeous blue eyes cracked open and looked up at him. “Don’t go yet, just sit here till I fall asleep? Please?” The look in her tired eyes tore at him. Damn it if he wasn’t a sucker for a damsel in distress. He saw Alexander chuckle as he rolled over, giving him a thumbs up as he did. Sitting down on the bed next to where she was lying, he took her hand in his and leaned back against the headboard. He prayed the next day wouldn’t be nearly as long or as sideways as the previous 24 hours had been. 

Soon Gabe felt his head starting to drop. He started to move off of the bed but looked down at his fingers intertwined with hers and changed his mind. Instead, he slipped down to lay flat on his back next to her. A soft smile formed on his lips as he felt her move closer to him and he drifted off to sleep. Fuck what any of the rest of them thought, Klaus may have promised to keep her safe but he was actually going to do it.

Just over three hours later, the soft click of the lock on the door to the suite signaled that someone was coming in. A lone figure slipped through the barely cracked door, carefully closing it behind him. The feel of a gun barrel at his temple told him instantly that his entry had not gone undetected. As he waited to find out who it was that had gotten guard duty, a slow smirk crossed his lips.

“You’d better have one damn good excuse for being in here asshole, because if you don’t you’re going to wish you had never opened that door.” The end of the barrel pressed more firmly into his skull as he heard Cade’s voice low and growling.

“Seeing as my grandfather is paying your fucking ass, I think I have a good enough excuse to come in if I want. Although how the fuck you all got here is something I’ve got to hear.” Nic’s quiet voice held amusement. It had taken him what seemed like forever to even find a clue where any of them had gone.

“Shit bro, you’re lucky I asked questions first. How the fuck did you find us?” Cade holstered his weapon and moved closer to Nic so that they’re voices wouldn’t wake the other four up.

“Gabe parked his SUV four blocks away. When he stopped answering his phone, I went hunting.” Nic shook his head. “Y’all were fucking hard as hell to find. One female with three bodyguards does make an impression on a desk clerk though.” He chuckled. “Two rooms? Who’s where?”

“Dez is over there. The door is closed because his snoring was about to drive me insane. Alexander, Mel, and Gabe are all over there.” Cade gestured as he talked. He had sobered up an hour or so before and was now annoyingly clear-headed and awake, albeit with a massive headache.

“You know how she got out? And how did you end up here with your SUV at the airport?” Nic looked over at Cade as he leaned his back against the wall.

“Window in your grandfather’s office in the suite, along the ledge to the fire escape that was one room over, then down to the alleyway. Then she just walked until she got to a coffee shop. From there she rented the car and got ahold of Gabe. Gabe texted us. We met up with her at the coffee shop. When she got tired, Dez took the SUV to the airport and got a cab back here with the cash she gave him. We had already transferred all the weapons into the back of her SUV, so it was safe for him to leave it. Then she drove us here. She was the lead the whole time bro, organized the whole damn thing. Did you know she has five false identities?” Cade almost laughed as he talked.

“More than five, and yes I did. Although apparently, grandfather’s men have made some new ones because I couldn’t find a trace of the old ones. I only got the key up here because I scared the desk clerk more than the rest of you did.” Nic answered, pausing for a moment. “I wasn’t here. Understand? Tell none of them. She’s safe, you’re all alive. That’s all I cared about. I’ll keep grandfather off your asses, but you’re going to have to show up eventually. Let me know when you are and I’ll buffer the reception.”

Cade looked over at Nic with a newfound respect. He had expected to get dressed down for going off grid and helping Mel, not that he cared, but he hadn’t expected Nic to cover for their asses. Not that he was going to turn it down. “Never saw ya bro. I gotta ask though….how insane have Ambrose and Klaus gone?” 

“Grandfather is convinced one or more of you are with Mel. This Oglesby though, he’s a major player and violent and vicious. He’d kill Mel if it gave him a tactical advantage with grandfather and Alexander, so I wouldn’t say he’s exactly calm.” Nic looked over in the dim light of the room, the expression on his face clear to Cade. Nic was worried. Ambrose was worried. The main thing was not to let this asshole know that Alexander and Mel were in the same place.

“Klaus is a mess. I don’t know if Gabe told you but he damn near shattered Erik’s jaw. Grandfather had to fly in a medic to at least set it enough for the moment so that he wasn’t in so much pain he couldn’t think. He also broke his cheekbone and gave him a concussion. The doc thinks Erik may have a couple of broken ribs too. That was from less than a half-dozen punches. I think that Erik’s lucky that the blow to the throat didn’t crush his windpipe. Erik is having to use the laptop to type out his answers to questions at the moment. Although threats of letting Klaus back in the room are more effective than anything in getting his cooperation.” He saw Cade’s eyes go wide in the gloom and nodded. “So I think that tells you how he’s doing. He’s no less upset now than he was when he about knocked me and grandfather over to get to Erik. We’ve had to keep Klaus separated from grandfather, they do nothing but butt heads because Klaus is being kept in the hotel and not out looking for Mel. They’re going to end up shooting one another if they’re left alone too long.” Nic sighed. “ That she hasn’t called or contacted him is driving him out of his mind. He’s like a caged lion. So yeah.” Nic shook his head lightly. He felt for the other man, truly he did. There was just nothing that could be done at the moment to make the situation better without pissing off his cousin. Klaus had made his own bed when he hung up on her, he’d just have to lie in it a bit longer.

“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full bro. But hey, you think in the future we could get the short chick to come with us on missions?” Cade tried to lighten the mood. “She’s good; I mean she’s damn good. She put the fear of God in Andreas, she slipped out of a locked room and had you chasing your tail, and she can pull off a cover identity as well as any of us. We could use her.” 

“I take it you want to have Ambrose committed to the lunatic asylum. He would go all kinds of batshit crazy.” Nic laughed. He had to admit, she might have picked up too much over the years from being around him and their grandfather. “Now, before any of them wake up, or I’m out of contact for too long and they start checking up on me…I’m getting my ass out of here. You need anything…ANYTHING…you call ME, no one else.”

“Got it, bro. Be careful, if there could be a target on Mel’s back from this Oglesby, there could be one on yours too. We’ll keep her safe, don’t worry.” Cade nodded once toward Nic. They were friends, more like brothers, and as much as he would guard Mel’s ass, he’d guard Nic’s back as well.

With that Nic slipped out of the room as almost silently as he slipped in. Now he knew that his cousin was safe, it was time to hunt Oglesby.

banner from @cafekitsune

[bullet-prooflove]

Valentine's Day Bingo: Stillwater - Stuart Scola x Reader

Tagging: @trublu2u @greenies-green @burningpeachpuppy @upsteadlogic @malindacath @yezzyyae @noxytopy @district447 @soultrysworld

Prequel to Unruly (NSFW) - You get a little territoral when it comes Stuart.

Hitting the Secret Admirer Bingo Square

When the bottle of Stillwater whisky is delivered to the house on Valentine’s Day, Stuart assumes that it’s from you. You’re away in Europe, teaching explosives training to the police force in Budapest. You’ve been testing the waters, exploring more options outside of the field since the pregnancy scare a couple of months ago. It had brought up the topic of kids and whilst you weren’t ready yet, you’d started to think about it. Stuart thought at some point in the next few years the two of you may be starting your own little family.

You blew the budget, he texts you before sending a picture of himself holding up the gift.

This bottle alone costs almost five hundred dollars and he’s touched. You refuse to dip into the joint account, you’re far too independent to spend the cash he earned at Goldman Sachs despite the fact he’s told you it’s there for the both of you.

It isn’t until the late afternoon he gets the message back from you.

That isn’t from me. Maybe a wrong delivery?

He knows that can’t be true. He’d had to sign for that package, it was his name and address on the paperwork.

Yea maybe, he texts back because he doesn’t want to worry you.

You respond with a picture of yourself in City Park giving him a thumbs up. He can see agents Kellett and Vo in the background, holding takeaway cups of coffee. He finds himself smiling because you look so vibrant in that moment, so happy and relaxed. Travelling suits you he thinks, the two of you haven’t done enough of it. He makes a mental note to book a trip when you get back, maybe Barcelona or Madrid, somewhere warm to balance out the harshness of the New York winter.

It’s when he steps out of the shower that the doorbell goes, he throws on his sweats and a t-shirt. The fabric clinging to his damp skin as he pads towards the door in bare feet. He’s surprised to find  Armando, the delivery driver from his favourite restaurant Villa Valencia outside, a brown paper bag of food clasped in his hand.

 “I didn’t order anything.” Stuart tells Armando as the other man hands the bag to him.

“Your girl did, she called it in about an hour ago” Armando informs him, already halfway down the steps. “She said someone should be taking care of you on Valentine’s Day.”

There’s an apprehension in his chest as he sets the bag down on the kitchen table, he picks up the delivery receipt and it’s a list of all his favourite food. Nowhere on the bill does it mention the name of the person who called in the order. He checks the time on his phone, it’s two am in Budapest, there’s no way that was you who bought his food. He dumps the takeaway bag straight in the trash.

The whiskey and now this…

It makes him uneasy. He double checks the doors and windows before he goes to bed, making sure they’re locked.

When he wakes up the next morning it’s to the scent of freshly brewed coffee. The aroma assails him and he reaches for his gun on the nightstand because he knows there isn’t a chance in hell that it’s you. You aren’t due home for over a week. Even if you’d decided to surprise him, a flight from Budapest is almost twelve hours direct, you wouldn’t be here in time for his alarm to go off.

When he steps into hall, he can hear music playing in the kitchen. Something soothing and soulful. It reminds him of the music in the coffeeshop the two of you used to frequent, the one down the block. There’s someone singing along to the song, the voice is too low for him to recognise.

He uses his palm to slowly push open the door, his gun raised. He’s surprised to find a woman standing with her back to him, she’s wearing one of his shirts and very little else. There’s a breakfast tray he doesn’t recognise in front of her. He sees the cappuccino with coffee art heart set into the foam, the toast on the side, the dainty little flower she’s placed in one of his glasses. There is no doubt in his mind, she’d intended to surprise him in bed this morning.

When she turns about to face him, he recognises her immediately and he knows exactly why this is happening.

There’s a reason you’d both stopped visiting that coffeeshop. You’d left him last year after the Mad Bomber had been released, disappeared for a few months. You’d both fucked other people in that time, falling back into old habits.

One of them had been the perky barista from the coffeeshop. She’d always paid him a little extra attention even when he came in with you. You had joked about it once upon a time, how she always left little hearts in his coffee but never in yours. She’d noticed when you stopped coming in, that he was hungover most mornings. Bad break up he’d told her. He’d bumped into her in a bar a couple of days later, gone back to her place. He’d slipped out of the sheets in the early hours of the morning the same way he did with everyone woman before and after you. He’d been upfront with her at the time.

I’m not looking to replace her, he’d said talking about you. This is just a one night thing.

He’d seen her around since then, the grocery store, one of the bars down the block, at the subway. It had stopped when you’d come back onto the scene. He’d told you about the girls he’d fucked, and you’d shared your own stories. There were a couple of overlaps, for him the barista, for you Nestor Vertiz.  You’d steered well clear of them both since, neither of you wanted your past indiscretions rubbed in the other’s face.

The worst part is he can’t even remember her name.

“Scola, you still there?” Tiffany’s voice is in his ear, as he grips the phone in one hand and his gun in the other.

He’d dialled his partner before he’d left the bedroom. She’d already been seated at her desk in 26 Fed, getting a head start on some paperwork when he’d called her.

“Yea Tiff.” He says quietly, his eyes still trained on the barista. “I need you to get a unit over here, there’s a woman in my house.”

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

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[obsessedtomone]

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 12 - Bystander Effect▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤ Shigaraki places a soft kiss on your temple and groans. “See, you could be so fucking good for me, but you always choose to be a mean little bitch instead.”

You shoot him a contempt-filled glare and he just chuckles in return, slipping his fingers out of your mouth and wiping your drool against the side of your reddened cheeks in order to further humiliate you.

“You’re fucking insane,” is all you can whisper, turning your head to look away, but he just grabs your chin between two fingers and forces your gaze to be back on him.

“Thought we already established that? ◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Very Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Past Child Abuse, Bullying, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine • Ten(ko) • Eleven • Twelve • Thirteen

Chapter 12 - Bystander Effect So far, tonight has only been two things. Boring, and incredibly annoying.

Maybe it’s the lack of alcohol in your system that makes you feel like this plane is crashing, meaning you ought to fix that.

Abandoning the idea of going back to the bar entirely, you head out for the open drinks in the living room, the ones available for anyone to roofie. A bunch of people elbow you on the way, but you’re buzzed enough not to mind anymore, focusing on the music pumping the blood in your veins. 

As much as you hate that asshole, the music that’s been playing so far wasn’t the worst. 

You find a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of coke and you pour those motherfuckers into a big cup, swirling it around while praying you’ll have a well-deserved blackout in the morning. God this party sucks.

The plan wasn’t to get wasted, but you don’t think you can stomach waiting for Taylor without being highly intoxicated anymore. And you’re not about to be the party grinch that cuts their best friend’s fun short over some toxic bitches from high school. They’ll make it up to you though, because they definitely will watch that movie they promised to watch with you tomorrow, when both of you are puking your guts out.

Time eventually passes, allowing the alcohol to properly loosen you up and making dancing seem more appealing than sulking in a corner, bored out of your mind while strangers dry hump each other. You get positively lost in the rhythm, until you eventually get tired enough to pull out your phone and check for any updates from your friend.

Taytay – dd ykn w ur th best [Sent 10:19 PM]

Taytay – I f knig lov u nbitch’;’2134 <5 [Sent 10:23 PM]

The random strings of letters your wasted friend spammed you with, brings warmth to your chest, making you genuinely smile—until someone fucking bumps into you and knocks you away from the dancing mass. 

You glare at the assholes (plural), but they pay you no mind and honestly you didn’t have time to dwell on it for much longer. The crowd parts just enough for you to catch a glimpse of a strangely familiar looking group, hanging out on the couch not too far away from where you stand.

Feeling dizzy, you try to get a better look, inching closer and squinting to see better through the flickering lights—until you realize the person you recognized earlier is… Shigaraki?

You swallow hard. Why is he here?

Next to Shigaraki who is manspreading on the couch sits Dabi, the Dabi, not the budget version this time. You’re now ninety percent convinced Mina’s purple-haired arm candy copy-pasted his style from him. And if that wasn’t just your delusion, you’d say Dabi wore it better.

Neither him nor Shigaraki are sitting by themselves, though.

Some slut is giving Dabi the equivalent of a lap dance, basically all but riding his cock in plain view. But that isn't the issue. No, the issue are the talons gripping Shigaraki’s shoulder, fingertips digging into the fabric of his t-shirt and him just fucking staring at her grip in a daze. She looks exactly like the type of girl you’d speculated he’d be into, back when you only thought of him as a creep.

Something indescribable and ugly courses through your blood, clawing at your heart and twisting it in your chest. You shift your gaze from him to the rest of his group, taking note of three other dudes and the blonde chick that looks a little too young to be here, passing blunts and alcohol around.

They’re all enjoying themselves, it seems, while smoking, drinking, getting high and laughing.

He is laughing.

You’re positive you’ve never seen Shigaraki laugh so freely before and that thought nags at you for some reason.

When the girl’s hand casually starts sliding closer to his chest, he seems to snap out of something. He then grabs the girl’s hand, pulling her into him so hard she almost loses her balance and whispers something into her ear with a creepy smile on his face. You watch the interaction and frown, as Dabi’s hands press her closer into him and he angrily shouts something at Shigaraki in return, but Shigaraki only holds her hand tighter, his signature smile only spreading wider.

It’s not a surprise for you to figure out that you aren’t special. 

But seeing it in front of your drunk fucking eyes ends up burning like acid. So much for that fucking confession huh? 

You can’t handle watching them any longer, so you look away and empty the remaining contents of your plastic cup, crumpling it in the process and missing the look of horror on her gorgeous fucking face as you chuck the offending piece of garbage at the floor.

Why the fuck would he lie to you? Why go through the trouble of confessing to you, of attempting to mend things between the two of you?

And why the fuck do you care who he toys with? Shouldn’t you be happy?!

Your bubbling feeling of betrayal threatens to suffocate you, when you notice someone from the group waving excitedly in your direction.

Huh?

He shouts something at his friends, handing his smoke and drink to the blonde chick while you squint your eyes in an attempt to comprehend what the fuck was going on. You thought you were mistaken, but then six pairs of eyes start scanning the room until their gaze finally lands in your direction.

Shigaraki’s eyes visibly widen the moment he sees you and you look around yourself feeling flustered, counting on a miracle that it isn’t you they’re all fucking looking at.

You quickly realize how morbidly wrong you are, when your arcade friend sets off in a rush to get to you, swerving through the mass of bodies.

Fuck.

It quickly becomes clear to you that you’re not ready for another bout of trouble tonight, so you try getting away before your friend reaches you, hoping—fucking praying—to melt with the crowd and lose them. To pretend like there weren’t two pairs of eyes, angry crimson and amused cerulean, both staring holes through your body.

Unfortunately your hopes for a quick getaway are cut extremely short, when a strong buff arm grabs you by your shoulder, effectively spinning you around and pulling you into a sweaty bear hug.

“Holy fuck!” Shuichi shouts happily through the music before slouching to speak into your ear, “Can’t believe I got to see you here! A-Ah, sorry ‘m still high as fuck. Are you by yourself?”

Your drunk head nods at that, trying to make sense of what was going on, but the greeting is cut short when you spot Shigaraki swiftly cutting through half of the room in the blink of an eye, pushing bodies away from him while his flock hurries to follow behind. Shuichi leans in more, body-blocking your vision and his cheeks are pink while he says something to you. You however can’t focus.

A hand appears on his shoulder and Shigaraki violently shoves his friend to the side, tightened jaw and flared nostrils. He’s absolutely livid.

“Fucking my friends now too, huh? Disgusting fucking whore.” Shigaraki actually spits in front of your feet and you nearly get fucking hit if not for your reflexes. 

You take a step back and scrunch your nose in the process. When you look around, you notice you’re surrounded by a circle of his people. People you’ve only heard of from insane fucking rumors.

Shuichi regains his balance and looks at the two of you bewildered. “Y-You guys… know each other?”

Shigaraki finally breaks the intense eye contact with you and snaps his head to his friend.

“Know each other?” he growls through clenched teeth.

The blonde girl starts jumping excitedly, face contorting into a sort of unsettling manic look. Dabi only smiles at you slyly while his slut is in tow, raising his hand to wave at you, wriggling his fingers playfully before crossing his arms.

A million thoughts run through your head and you close your eyes, rubbing at your forehead.

The fuck? Are all his friends insane? They should know that a fight’s about to break out, right? And knowing Shigaraki, it’s bound to get ugly. Are they not concerned at all? 

Unless…

Unless that’s exactly the kind of thing they’re looking forward to.

A tremor runs through your bones. This is not high school anymore and you aren’t a teen fighting other teenagers anymore. These are possible adult criminals, standing around, waiting for something to happen.

And you cannot take Shigaraki in a real fight. You know that much.

Random people are now also turning their heads, trying to figure out what’s going on and eventually pulling out their phones to either text or film the potential shit-show. 

You now realize how badly you’d fucked up to get drunk.

“Answer me, bitch. Are you fucking my friends?” He grabs the fabric of your clothes and pulls you to him, red eyes full of contempt.

“Don’t blame her boss,” a low rough speaks up before you can and adds, “Met her in the store earlier this week, lookin’ at me all starry eyed,” Dabi coos, sending you a kiss and fueling Shigaraki’s fury for no other reason than to get you into trouble, ignoring the obvious disappointment on his partner for the night. “Lemme take a turn after you. I don’t mind fucking cute ‘lil hoes.”

It works like a fucking charm, because Shigaraki looks at you like he was about to set fire to this entire fucking building together with you in it.

Your head spins fast now, anxiety spiking up. There’s too many voices. Too many people. Too much shit going wrong tonight.

You’re scared, you’re pissed, you wanna go home.

You’re tired, you’re tired, you’re tired. You miss your—

Shigaraki snarls at you with narrowed eyes, saying something you didn’t catch, and you—and you snap.

“Fucking—ENOUGH!” you scream at the top of your lungs and straight into Shigaraki’s face, making him flinch and loosen his grip.

Then you do the only thing your drunk, overwhelmed brain can think of. 

You slap the absolute living shit out of Shigaraki Tomura.

The entire room, including yourself, gasps in unison.

He’s completely frozen, one hand placed on the rapidly reddening cheek as he stares into space. 

You hear his friends giggle and see Dabi toppling over in laughter. 

The only person who’s more unamused than you and the guy you just humiliated in front of an entire party of people, is Shuichi. Not only was he unamused, he was shaking, looking absolutely horrified at what you’ve done. And when you look into his eyes, you realize it’s not just out of concern for his friend.

The music died down completely by now and you unwillingly somehow became the protagonist of this room.

When you step away, your back hits the front of one of Shigaraki’s taller dark-haired friends, who’s sporting the smuggest look. It tells you you’re not fucking going anywhere. 

“Uh oh! Creep’s gonna snap her neck!” some random asshole says in the back of the crowd and you frown.

That seems to wake him up. He suddenly lunges forward, forcefully grabbing your arm and dragging you with him… somewhere, but his plans are cut short when Taylor drunkenly steps in to break up whatever this mess was that you got yourself into.

“Ya, okay, enough of that!” They clap their hands twice like they’re talking to some servant and grab Shigaraki’s arm to get him off of you.

He shoves them out of the way, causing your drunk friend to lose their footing and hit the floor hard.

Your eyes widen and you scream at him, kneeing him in the stomach as hard as you could. He groans, letting go of you in favor of clutching his stomach and finally freeing you.

It takes a moment for your brain to register the blonde chick reaching for something, seeing a glint of familiar shaped metal as you stumble to get to your friend who’s now kneeling on the floor with tears running down their face.

Shigaraki shoots his arm out when he notices his friend stepping in your direction and you belatedly realize she held a knife. The blonde bitch was just about to fucking stab you, had he not stopped her. 

You swallow emptily, feeling yourself beginning to shake, all color draining from your face.

“Don’t—Don’t you fucking dare touch them again, you—you s-sick, depraved—fucking—fucking assholes!” you yell at everyone in the room, struggling to help your friend up.

Why is no one doing anything? Where are all of Taylor’s useless fucking friends to help when they needed them?

You look around but all you can see are cold stares. Nobody lifts a finger.

Nobody dares to cross him.

A bead of sweat rolls down your brow and your eyes snap to the direction of a deranged giggle, only to find red irises filled to the brim with unadulterated glee, staring right back at you.

Tomura felt something going off in his brain, the moment he saw your adorably lost and confused face looking for help.

You’re finally, finally realizing it, aren’t you?

He walks over to you, sinking on one knee and you curse yourself for listening to Taylor and leaving your pepper spray at home in favor of this stupid fucking outfit. You consider your odds in a fight, but one look into his terrifying eyes has you second-guessing yourself long enough that he reaches forward first, fingers splayed.

Shigaraki grabs you by your hair and gets up, forcing you to let go of your friend as you’re dragged to your feet. Taylor whimpers from somewhere beneath you, but his tense grip wouldn’t allow you to turn your head and look.

You’ve never seen him this angry, this fucking savage.

The speechless crowd and his cruel amused friends all split, making way for him, as if it’s Moses himself parting the red fucking sea.

You were too dizzy from the alcohol and too focused on the burning roots of your head, but you think you climbed a few stairs and walked a little longer until he suddenly shoved you into one of the rooms in the house, him being right behind you.

Two strangers were caught in the act, but a quick look of recognition over Shigaraki’s form and a barked order from him was enough for them to fuck off faster than you could ask for help. Not that you had much hope they would.

Because he was right. You did finally realize.

You finally realize why everyone flinched when he passed by. Why they whispered behind his back, but cowered if he were to give them a dirty look. Why there were so many wild rumors surrounding him and his shitty friends.

It’s because those aren’t fucking rumors!

Hearing the telltale click of a door locking behind you has you turning around, hand clutching over your other arm in an attempt to stop it from shaking and willing your brain to sober up. 

He’s still holding the handle to your exit, body facing you completely and his demeanor impossibly calm, compared to earlier. 

It must be a facade you think, because you feel the familiar dread you’d always feel as a kid when adults were about to snap and make you wish you were never born. That’s where your anxiety disorder stems from, now serving as an alarm for you to be careful. He’s dangerous.

You hate this. You hate this so fucking much. You hate that all he has to do is stand there and watch you, for you to freeze the fuck up and be unable to further move. The corner of his mouth lifts, smirking at you like he knows.

“Let’s talk, hm?”

Your breathing accelerates, chest rising and falling as your oxygen intake triples and the corners of your eyes burn. 

“You—you literally said—No! You promised!” you choke out, the shakiness of your hand spreading all the way to your shoulders as you speak to the white-haired devil, “You fucking promised not to do this anymore!” You’re sobbing now, fat fucking tears rolling down your cheeks and leaving dark trails of ruined mascara in their wake. “You promised…”

“So I lied. Now answer my fucking question,” Shigaraki growls at you, letting go of the handle and flexing his fingers at his sides. “Did you think it was fun? Telling me you like me, making me run around like some fucking idiot?”

He steps forward and your brain struggles to understand. 

What is he saying? When did you ever tell him that you—

The phone call.

“What? Are you—Are you joking right now? Y-You can’t do this! You’re ruining any chances of—of fixing things, with every second—” Your voice cracks. “With every fucking second that I’m locked in this fucking room with you, Shigaraki!”

But he just takes another step in your direction.

“That’s okay.” He smiles. “Maybe you’re right, for once.” His fingers reach the back of his neck and he rubs it thoughtfully, humming as he advances in your direction, slowly, like a predator and more self-assured than you’ve ever seen him be. “Maybe I am done playing nice.”

You take a tentative step back, rolling your eyes in faux confidence, unable to smother the growing anxiety. 

“T-That so? A deranged lunatic doing something psychotic? W-Who would’ve thought.”

His smirk breaks into a chilling smile at that, but he doesn’t stop stalking towards you. Until the back of your knees meet the frame of someone’s bed. 

“Still so fucking mouthy.”

You glance behind you nervously. “S-So what now.” You close your eyes, biting your lower lip and frowning before turning to look at him again. He’s right in front of you. “Gonna rape me? Teach me a lesson?”

Shigaraki chuckles, amused by your stupid question.

“Nah.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly before closing the distance and towering over you, placing a hand squarely against your sternum and effortlessly shoving you back. 

You fall gracelessly on top of the bed, immediately grimacing at the thought of someone’s bare sweaty ass being exactly where your head now lays. Your focus shifts back to the man that’s watching you from above with a raised chin.

He looks ethereal like this, you think. Soft warm yellows coming from the dimly lit bedside lamp, illuminating his features only partially. A beautiful monster.

Shigaraki tilts his head. “Now, we’re going to talk.”

“Yeah? Well you better talk fast, because people—” you stutter, feeling angry, scared and ashamed all at once. “B-Because people… Because Taylor will call the cops on you!”

And the fucking second you finish babbling your empty threats, you hear the party come alive once again, music blaring and vibrating through however many layers of brick separated you from the main room. Nobody’s going to be able to hear you.

You curse under your breath.

“Are they now?”

“Shigaraki, stop.”

“God, you look so fucking adorable when you’re scared of me. Gets me really fucking hard,” he groans, brows pinched as he shamelessly starts palming himself through his jeans.

You can’t help but glance at his hand anxiously, feeling your heart beating faster.

“Stop. Don’t fucking do this to me. Please don’t do this to me,” you beg uselessly, screwing your wet eyes shut, trying to mentally separate yourself from him as much as possible.

But Tomura could only revel at the sound of your desperate pleas.

Yes—fucking yes! At last.

He cracks a wide grin, the only regret on his mind being not picking this path sooner. This is something he was used to. So much more efficient to use terror in order to break you down and make you his. How fucking pathetic of him to attempt something like making you want to be with him.

He could barely hold back his delight. You were so close.

Shigaraki climbs up your legs, effectively straddling you and patiently observing your reaction.

“I said relax, idiot,” he tells you, but the way he reaches his hand out and uses his dry, rough knuckles to slowly brush the side of your cheek, does absolutely nothing to help you relax. His touch feels like warm sandpaper, and you can’t help but squirm under it. “We’re just going to talk.”

His fingers uncurl, exploring the planes of your soft face, pads running gently over the bridge of your nose all the way to your lips. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he’s admiring you, by the slightly dazed look in his eyes. The same dazed look he gave that whore.

Shigaraki’s gaze falls upon your lips as he pushes his index finger into your mouth. You go ahead and bite it hard enough to leave a deep reddened dent. It doesn’t faze him in the slightest, and instead prompts him to force a second digit in as he smiles at you wickedly.

“Sho fuhkin’ tawk then,” you mumble around his bitter fingers, words coming out all funny while you feel shame burning in your cheeks and at the corner of your eyes. You place both hands firmly against his chest, looking for a semblance of separation. For any sort of false security.

His sinister smile spreads even wider, before he leans in so close to your ear that you feel his breath fanning against it. He huffs wryly before speaking again, his voice taking on a progressively higher note, “Y’know, you’re a pretty low-level boss.” Shigaraki snickers, “Unique character design, shitty confusing puzzles, but a lot of weak exploitable points I can hit. It’s like you’re not even trying.”

He’s biting his lower lip, pulling back just enough for you to look him in the eyes as he tilts his head. 

Gone were the traces of his softness from the time before tonight, all replaced by what looked like honest malice and bitter spite towards you.

The only way you could reply is with a pathetic whimper. He clicks his tongue at that.

“Do you understand how easy it would be to get rid of that flimsy scholarship of yours? Or use your filthy fucking sex tapes, of you letting some lowlife scumbag fuck you—” Shigaraki grimaces, but his scary smile quickly returns to his lips. “And… your past,” he whispers to you with an upward lilt in his tone, taking his fingers out and resting them on top of your lip, allowing for your reaction to his revelation.

“W-What? How did you—”

It’s his unhinged giggles that cut you off. 

“People talk. You’d be surprised how easily they give me what I want, once they feel threatened enough,” he says, voice dark and foreboding.

You wanted to rebuke him, you really did, but the second your mouth opens again, Shigaraki slips his already spit-covered fingers all the way to the back of your throat, the brusqueness of it prompting you to gag ugly.

You try to reach for his wrist, to push it away, but he’s stronger and he’s faster. He shakes his head at your disobedience, using his free grip to grab both of your hands and effortlessly pinning them to the side of your head, twisting your body in an uncomfortably forced position.

Was every time you could push him around just for show? And are you seriously only realizing that now?

Shigaraki waits for your erratic breathing to slow down before he begins tormenting you, pumping his long, bony fingers in and out of your mouth sickeningly slowly. 

The sound of you gagging over and over and the wet sloppy squelches of your mouth echo throughout the room, complemented by dampened party music and sounds of his increasingly labored breathing.

You choke and try struggling again, but he doesn’t let you.

“Shh, I’ve seen you take worse. That’s right. Like that. Fuck,” he purrs, face close to yours, gaze fixated on the way your mouth clings to his fingers. You cringe when you feel him lick a long and disgusting stripe from the bottom of your cheek, all the way to the source of the bitter tears. “Good girl.”

Shigaraki places a soft kiss on your temple and groans. “See, you could be so fucking good for me, but you always choose to be a mean little bitch instead.”

You shoot him a contempt-filled glare and he just chuckles in return, slipping his fingers out of your mouth and wiping your drool against the side of your reddened cheeks in order to further humiliate you.

“You’re fucking insane,” is all you can whisper, turning your head to look away, but he just grabs your chin between two fingers and forces your gaze to be back on him.

“Thought we already established that?

You spit in his face and he flinches.

Catching him off-guard is a privilege you’ll take, so you quickly free yourself from his grip. Before he snaps out of his stun, you grab his shirt and your fist flies towards his face using whatever leverage you have from this awkward position. 

It’s now or fucking never.

“You little—!” Shigaraki growls at you, immediately dropping his entire weight on top of your body before your punch can even connect, causing you to uselessly smack the top part of his shoulder and making you howl in frustration.

He slides his arms to grab each of yours, now using bruising force to truly render them useless at the sides of your head. 

“Are you fucking trying to piss me off today?” he barks at you, gritting his teeth and getting halfway up to shift one of his knees on top of your stomach, pressing his weight into it.

“Urk—” You almost literally vomit in his face from the pressure, but he lets up before you can.

“Gonna behave now and listen to what I have to fucking say, or are you going to keep being difficult?”

Difficult?! You’re being difficult? You could fucking laugh if this wasn’t quickly climbing up the ranks as one of the worst nights of your life. So you just roll your eyes instead, as if you weren’t a quivering mess. As if he wasn’t scaring you.

Tomura’s gaze narrows. 

He thought he was closer to breaking you, but you obviously still have a lot of fight left in you. After all, you’ve been through worse.

So maybe he has to truly outmatch your greatest monsters then. He should start easy.

“Answer my question, slut. Next time you don’t, I’ll have to start punishing you,” Shigaraki grunts but you remain defiantly quiet.

He scoffs, lifting his knee away from your sensitive stomach, earning him a relieved exhale from you. That moment of reprieve quickly turns into alarm the moment he wedges it between your thighs instead, mere inches away from your cunt. 

He smirks at your horrified expression and begins pressing it against your core experimentally, drawing out a pathetic whimper from you.

“Oh?” he breathes into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he bends his body to repeat the motion. That, unfortunately, wins him another distressed gasp from you. 

“Fuck. That’s hot,” Shigaraki groans like the depraved fucking virgin he is, momentarily forgetting that this is supposed to be your punishment. 

An idea pops into your head.

You close your eyes and softly grind yourself up against his thigh, pretending it’s involuntary, that you don’t want him to notice. It should be easy, right? You know what you’re doing, after all.

Except it slightly backfires once you start genuinely feeling a little hot, the pressure of him pressing his thigh against you making your face slightly scrunch up in pleasure. You try to even your expression, to seem unaffected.

When you open your eyes, Shigaraki looks a little more disheveled than before, his vindictive demeanor from seconds ago slightly softened. Hope blooms inside your chest.

And for the first time tonight, he throws you a playful look. 

“Thought you didn’t want to fuck me?”

God, he’s such a fucking loser, it makes you snort.

“You call getting myself off on your leg ‘fucking’ you? Pathetic.”

Something dangerous sparks in his red obsessive eyes. It sends a jolt through your spine all the way to your core, making you swallow. Hard. 

“Okay.” He presses his forehead against yours and chuckles darkly.

“Huh?”

Shigaraki repeats the motion, putting more pressure against your heat. “Go ahead, then. Get yourself off.”

“You’re a fucking freak,” you conclude, moving away from him despite the blush spreading on your cheeks and the disgusting warmth that was growing between your legs. 

The only pathetic idiot in this room is you. You and your stupid fucking plan.

“What’s wrong?” He leans in smugly, nose brushing yours and the overwhelming cigarettes and gin in his breath overwhelming your nose. “Done already? Was even gonna let you cum even tho’ you don’t deserve it.”

You roll your eyes and miss the slight disappointment crossing his features. He licks his lips and you glance at his mouth for less than a split second, but he catches it.

“Wanna kiss me?” Shigaraki tilts his head and the grin on his face spreads.

“In your fucking dreams,” you lie. “Enough. I’m tired of this shit, let me go.”

“Really? See now, here’s the thing. My hunch is telling me that you kinda enjoy being put in your place.” His eyes widened for a second before narrowing again. “Isn’t that why you keep being a bitch all the fuckin’ time?”

“Should I help you schedule an eye exam then?”

“Mmm.” Shigaraki dips his head to the junction between your neck and your shoulder, deeply inhaling your scent like the fucking pervert he is. “So mouthy. If you’re still able to snap back like that, it means I’m being too nice.”

He finally lets go of one of your arms, sliding his hand all the way to your neck, spindly fingers wrapping around it and squeezing experimentally.

“Why… why do you act so—” Shigaraki tightens his grip some more, making you struggle to breathe the words out, “fu—fuh—ck’d u-up?”

His mouth falls open, smile dropping as he looks at you in awe. The sight of you made his cock twitch in his pants.

“Because I want you,” he admits completely unapologetically, then leans in to press his dry, cracked lips to the side of your neck, kissing it softly. The rough texture and the contrast of the oddly gentle kiss makes you shiver. Shigaraki whispers, “And I’ve decided that I’m gonna have you.”

You really didn’t mean to, but the audacity makes you burst into hysterical laughter, which he immediately cuts off together with your fucking airway, using the hand that still rested on your neck. You gasp soundlessly.

“Is it that funny?” Blunt teeth graze the sensitive skin on your neck before his voice becomes low and threatening, “Did you fuck Spinner?”

Shigaraki forgets you can’t breathe, holding your neck with so much force that you start seeing black spots forming around your vision.

Only when your chest starts slightly convulsing does he let up.

“Fu-uck.” you cough, cringing away from him and breathing like it’ll be your last time. “W-Who?”

“Don’t act stupid now,” he hisses. “The fucking nerd with long purple hair.”

“Oh… him?” You grin angrily, slightly inclining upwards and touching noses with him. “That’s none of your business.”

—was the wrong thing to say, because Shigaraki punches the bed with brutal fucking force right next to your head, making you jump.

“FUCKING ANSWER ME!” he screams at you and you flinch again.

“N-No, you asshole. I didn’t fuck any of your friends.” 

“Then why—!”

Shigaraki slumps, face remaining hidden from behind white locks of hair.

You’re staring at the ceiling as long-dried tears quickly burn their way back and you feel a familiar tightening in your chest. He then slowly sits up, looking down at you again and your gaze follows him until his whole body weight lifts from you.

Tomura can see the faint red outline of his hand forming your neck. His gaze hardens and he goes back to his stiff, unemotional self.

“Doesn’t matter,” he resolves in a tone so cold, it gives you goosebumps.

“W-What do you mean?”

“I mean, that starting tonight you’ll become my bitch.” He pushes himself off the bed, fixing his clothes. You can’t help but stare at him in disbelief. “You’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you to do, and if you don’t—” He smirks at you sadistically before continuing, “If you don’t, I’ll just destroy everything you’ve ever cared about. That’s a promise.”

He pats down his arms and clothes as if to dust your filthy presence off.

You lie motionless at first, frowning until the words finally register into your alcohol addled brain. So you’re sitting up, face contorting in anger because you’ve had enough of his shit.

“You’re absolutely fucking nuts if you think I’ll—”

A sharp crack echoes in the room and judging by the position of your head and the painful sting in your face, you realize Shigaraki had struck you across the face. Hard.

You can’t hold back the violent sobs that escape you.

“Got your attention?” he growls at you, grabbing you by the roots of your hair and turning your head to him. You vaguely register his clenched jaw. “You’re a pathetic self-destructive little whore,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “And you should’ve killed yourself when you had the chance to, right after I showed that cute little ass to everyone. But you know what?”

The warmth of his breath brushes over your hurting cheek.

“Now you belong to me. So go ahead and fucking try blowing your brains out. Because not only will I make true on everything I fucking told you, but your precious little friend, your coworkers, your manager, even your fucking therapist will regret the day you were fucking born.”

“No…”

“Just like mommy did. That’s why she left your brother to die and shot herself up with heroin until she fucking left you too. Just like your brother, from under his cozy little grav—”

You don’t remember much, but you feel your throat being sore. It’s weird though, because you don’t remember yourself screaming. Or how you landed in the middle of the street, shoes and your jacket long forgotten.

You don’t remember how long you’ve been walking for, or where you were.

You don’t remember, but you can’t seem to stop trembling or crying hysterically and you don’t know what to do.

You don’t know what to do.

YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO.

— NEW MESSAGES —

Psycho – im acc nice to my toys so ill look past ur little temper tantrum this time [Sent 2:34 AM]

Psycho – u better show 2 class tmr otherwise i promise u really won’t like what will happen if u dont. [Sent 2:35 AM]

Psycho – sweet dreams :) [Sent 2:35 AM]

[atombonniebaby]

Hey...I'm still here...FO4 just has my undivided attention right now...🙌🏻🙌🏻

Mac goes and does this today...

Macready: What was this place for… storytime or something?

MacCready: Hi, I'm MacCready... Been drinking since I was six. Never looked back

I'm playing through chapter 3 of Sim Settlements 2, and Mac keeps finding the idle animation markers!

Here...have some "Mac does randoms stuff and I love him for it." snaps that I've wrangled up some words for!(I've also been trying to find a use for that one pic where Mac is getting scolded by his dads...)

Nate: Right ye sticky fingered wee bam...I'm down 3 bottles eh Whiskey, and Jacob here's been tellin' me a third eh the budget seems to have mistakenly been spent on cigarettes...now I know geein' ye a talkin' tae won't do didly squat... MacCready: Get to the point, boss...I got stuff to do! Nate:Okay...nae need to get crabbit...especially when there's a bunch eh caps at stake here... MacCready: Bunch of caps, huh? Okay, hotshot. Spill it... Nate: Aye...I thought that might tickle your fancy...so, how's about a wee wager? One week without a dram or a smoke passin through that smart mouth eh yours and there'll be a tidy sum at the end for ye? MacCready: A'right old man... name your price? Nate: 500 caps... and Jake's gonna lay aff the coffee...he'll pocket another 50 for every day he cannae hack it... Jake: Woah...woah...Now... hold on a dang minute, Slick! I never... Nate: Ye no remember? I said I'd move Aiden to another floor? As far away from ye as possible? Jake: Oh...oh, yeah! Now I remember...One week...whaddya say, son? MacCready: Oh man, I love the sound a pile of caps makes.

MacCready finds a few ways to keep busy...

The time flies ...

MacCready: The only thing better than getting a bunch of caps is spending a bunch of caps.

Nate gets another week before it's back to the 'phantom cigarette pose' and daily repetitions of...

"Man, I could really use a cigarette."

[shitpostsfromtheinvisiblelibrary]

On the eleventh day of Christmas fanfic gave me weed

(Borrowing setting and concept from @yourbravestpigeon)

'God damnit I said no weed in the kitchen. Take it outside,' Vale looked up from his laptop.

'Essay.'

'Food. Go. Or put it out.' Vale looked at the joint in his hand, stubbed it our and tucked it into his pocket for later. 'Thank you. Where is Irene?'

'Wrapping presents,' Vale coughed. 'That was good stuff. You should try it.'

'I'm good thank you. When I eventually get disowned for not studying economics any more I don't want to add a drug charge to that. How will you work with the police if they pick you up for possession?' Not that Kai was opposed to the trio occasionally passing a joint around after Irene had picked the lock to the roof access door, watching sunsets, smoking and passing around a bottle of cheap whiskey that burnt as it went down, but not every day.

'Hot box your bathroom like a normal person,' Kai opened up the kitchen windows to try and clear out the lingering smells.

He unpacked the shopping and began to organise it all, lining up what he needed in order of when it would be used.

Irene came padding out of her bedroom with her hands tucked into the pockets of her oversized hoody.

'Why is it freezing in here?' She muttered.

'Vale,' Kai opened the fridge. 'I'm making tea before I start cooking.'

'Coffee, please,' Irene said. 'Why did I pull an all nighter?' Why did she decide to start reading the one hundred and fifty thousand world Sherlock x John fanfiction at midnight? And why did she insist on finishing it?

'What essay are you working on?' Irene wrinkled her nose. 'One for... what's his name. The fruit guy.'

'Peach. He's such an asshole!' Essay or not Irene would happily bitch about the fruit guy.

'Fruit fucker.'

'Yes. The fruit fucker. He's just... kai. He makes me want to scream. His essay advice has so far boiled down to don't plagiarise and try not to be boring. What is boring? Am I boring?'

'Never. I could listen to you rant about victorian authors all day,' Kai said. 'But I'd prefer it if you let me take you out for drinks and you can rant at me from there.'

'Nice try but no thank you. I have learnt my lesson about dating people I have to see on a daily basis.'

'I wouldn't dump you like that.'

'It's still a no,' Irene said. 'I'm not dating anyone until I have my masters. At the earliest.'

Irene washed up the last plate and handed it off to Vale, it was only fair that they cleaned up after Kai had cooked for them, he was sprawled on the ratty couch in the lounge watching videos on his phone.

'Kai, do you want wine or whiskey?' Both cheap bottles bought from the corner shop.

'Whatever you're both having!' Kai often complained about the quality of drinks that the other two purchased but unlike him they had budgets, Irene because her parents couldn't give her any help and Vale because his mother wouldn't. And neither wanted to let Kai pay for everything even though he happily would.

Irene grabbed the wine, it felt more Christmasy, and three mugs, they didn't own wine glasses and poured them each drinks as they sat down to open up Christmas presents.

Irene took the bow off one of her gifts and stuck it to the end of Kai's braid.

'Damn,' She muttered as she opened up the bag that had been stuffed with socks. 'How did you know I needed new socks? Fifty pairs may be overkill though.'

'So is going oh god my feet are freezing every single morning.'

Irene waited until Vale had wandered off saying something about having to check the police scanners because he needed something exciting, before sliding one last gift over to Kai.

'Sorry it's not the best wrapping ever. It only arrived this morning.'

Kai smiled.

'Is this your way of saying you reciprocate my feelings?'

'It's my way of saying merry Christmas. I can return it though if you would prefer,' Kai clutched it to his chest and Irene held her hands up in surrender. 'Last time I go out of my way to do something nice for anyone.'

Kai was meticulous with opening his gifts, slowly peeling back the tape and unfolding the paper. Irene just wanted to rip it open and hand it back so she could find out if he liked it quicker.

'It's okay if you don't like it, I checked your others so I could get the right size and fit and I tried to get the right shade of blue for it to match all of your other things but if you don't like it you can return it and pick out-' Kai stopped her babbling.

'You got me a new binder?'

'You kept complaining about not having enough clean ones when you're too busy for laundry,' Irene fought the urge to run a hand through her hair. 'Sorry if I overstepped but with dissertations due soon I thought it would help.'

'No it's... thank you,' Kai smiled. 'Its exactly what I would have picked for myself,' He put it to the side and offered her a hand up. 'Grab your picks, I'll grab more wine and get Vale to bring the weed up to the roof.'

'It's freezing.'

'But the sky is clear, the sunset is going to be beautiful.'