#homegirls getting run ragged

[aquasharkpencilmark]

Worn out vanny sketch I did as a warmup

“How long can you work a puppet before it starts to fall apart?”

[cto10121]

Okay, FINE, How Are Romeo and Juliet *Actually* Different?

The popular anti claim being that R&J have absolutely ~nothing in common and so would not have worked out in the long run (as if that would negate their love), I’ve spent a lot of my time refuting this awful anti clownery on my blog for good reason. I think it’s fair to say that Shakespeare conceived his R&J as two sides of the same coin, pretty much the same character and personality. So why, then, do antis whine and bitch and even fans prefer one over the other? Why is the Romeo the Death Eater (🤮) and Juliet the Basic Bitch Homewrecker to Poor Rosaline (🤮🤮🤮) clownery even a thing????

Well, apart from general ignorance of the play, fanon taken as canon, and antis being antis, it’s also the fact that Romeo and Juliet are different in a few ways. These differences are shallow and surface level, however, and ultimately are irrelevant to their love dynamic. How so? Let me count the ways…all of 4 (?).

1. One is A Girl and the Other Is A Boy

Yeah, this alone accounts for 99.99% of their differences, no joke.

So R&J are clearly the results of their typically 16th century socialization. Juliet is a girl raised to be obedient, quiet, and can only leave home for church. After her initial greeting to her mother she stands by quietly as her Nurse and her mother talk. She has fewer lines in her introductory scene than freakin’ Ophelia, and her response to the prospect of marriage to Paris is a diplomatic “Meh. Okay. If you want me to.”

Meanwhile Romeo is free to do whatever the fuck he wants whenever he wants. We literally meet Romeo when he has gone AWOL and his parents have no idea what is happening or where he is. They have to employ Benvolio to get the truth out of him. If Juliet is raised like a cloistered nun, Romeo is for the streets. No wonder adaptations have him and his Montague homeboys be so grungy at times.

These differences in gender roles contribute a lot to their personalities. More specifically, to their weighing of risk. Romeo decides to climb Capulet’s wall on a mere moment’s deliberation. Juliet has half a hundred lines alone wrangling over whether Romeo is sincere and not a fuckboy. And although they feel despair and rage at similar things, they show their tempers differently, thus:

2. Juliet Has A Temper, Romeo Has (Virtually) None

Okay, so I have a feeling Juliet getting more riled up than Romeo is 99.99% due to the Nurse being the Nurse. Homegirl will literally try anyone’s patience. And to Juliet Nurse is a more of a mother figure as it is, so of course she would respond more viscerally.

Still, canon evidence is canon evidence. Romeo had to be pushed to extremes by actual manslaughter (and even then he decided to fight only when Tybalt returned). Although Mercutio rags on him constantly, his only response is either to dismiss him or playfully rag him back. He only becomes really dangerous when he learns Juliet is dead—his John Wick moment, in short.

Meanwhile Juliet drops the Nurse like a hot potato after the Nurse advised her to marry Paris instead. The Nurse also mentions how angry she gets when she tells her Paris>>>Romeo. So yeah, don’t mess with Juliet.

That said, Romeo is definitely the most dangerous when he gets angry. Juliet internalizes her anger and grief (see point 1), hence her wanting Death to claim her maidenhead. Romeo is chill, but when pushed sufficiently, will cut a bitch, and very easily too. If Juliet is Jigglypuff, Romeo is Cell Games Gohan.

3. Juliet Is A Better Liar, Romeo Just Evades (Also His One Lie Sucks So Bad, It’s Clownish)

Juliet’s nigh-perfect equivocation to her mother comes to mind, a kind of deceit that is really tricky to pull off. One suspects she has had a lot practice in the past what with her stupid dysfunctional and oblivious parents. She struggles far more with Paris—her disgust for him is so palpable—but luckily for her, Paris is even more oblivious than her parents. Just brain smooth, no thoughts, head empty.

By contrast, Romeo doesn’t lie much or at all. You could argue that he doesn’t really have to—as a more or less independent youth he doesn’t have to give a full account to his parents and there is no real reason to lie to his friends. Mercutio and Benvolio don’t even ask him where he was, just ribbed that he had ditched them. Mercutio assumes he was out getting some; Romeo not only lets him assume this but slyly continues the game of wits until both Mercutio and Benvolio are satisfied at his return to form.

That’s the extent of Romeo’s cleverness in deceit, though. By Act 5 he is unable to persuade his servant Balthazar that he is Totally Fine, No, Really, Go Get the Horses. And then there is this whopper of a line to Balthazar: “Why I descend into this bed of death / Is partly to behold my lady’s face, / But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger / A precious ring, a ring that I must use / In dear employment.”

Romeo was clearly Not Well(tm), but dude. Dude. A ring???? A ring??? You could have stopped at “behold my lady’s face” but no!!!! 🤦‍♀️ No wonder Balthazar just disobeyed him completely. That said…

4. Romeo Is Better At Persuasion (Rhetoric), Juliet Is Just…Not

Okay, so it’s really just that one moment where Romeo successfully persuades the apothecary to sell him poison. He really does give a good argument in very few, terse lines (“fuck the law, it’s screwing you over by keeping you poor,” in short). Part and parcel with his rhetoric ability is his ability to tease, as shown in his battle of wits with Mercutio.

Juliet has some shrewd moments too (“how canst thou be out of breath when thou hast breath to say to me that thou art out of breath???”). But mostly she doesn’t or can’t persuade. Faced with her dumbass parents and uneducated Nurse, she even struggles to get a word in. When she begs her mother to delay the marriage to Paris, Lady C doesn’t even hear her out.

She also fails with the Nurse although, (very interestingly enough), she doesn’t even try to persuade the Nurse to stick with her and Romeo. And again, when the Nurse teases her about Paris being better Romeo, her response is just irritation. So yeah, safe to say that of the two, Romeo is more rhetorically adept.

5. Juliet Blushes Easily and Romeo Is Practically Shameless

I’m thinking chiefly of how much Mercutio rags on Romeo for mooning over Rosaline and Romeo just… dgafs, lol. He shows no embarrassment either for his pursuit of Juliet or his abandonment of his crush on Rosaline. Except for Tybalt’s death, he doesn’t express much guilt over his actions either. At best he doubts himself on occasion—he is no arrogant bro, at the very least.

Meanwhile Juliet does get embarrassed easily, though with very good reason. She blushes and rambles during the balcony scene, and the Nurse even explicitly says she blushes easily (“There goes the wanton blood up thy cheeks”).

Overall, Romeo is a much confident character than Juliet. Again, though, this is also part-and-parcel of their gendered differences and really just a part of Number 1.

6. Romeo Is A Discord Mod, Juliet Is His Kitten

Just kidding. All in all, most of these differences stem from number 1 in some way—gender role socialization is a very real and powerful factor when it comes to personality. Juliet’s introvert personality, her temper and her struggle to make her case reflects more her status as a girl to whom no one listens to or regards. Romeo’s temper, skill with a blade, and rhetorical adeptness comes from his obvious masculinized education.

When it comes to the rock hard traits of R&J’s personalities, however, these differences are mitigated very much and even disappear entirely.

Both have fairly mild tempers all in all, are expressive and charismatic. Both love and feel deeply and passionately, and get overwhelmed by their own powerful emotions. They are both obedient, sweet upper class kids who are pretty well immersed in their respective society and only go the distance for a love connection. They are both very brave and courageous, willing to take risks for each other. They are also equally in love with each other and, as far as them being together goes, are equal partners in love.

[kiridarling]

𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓.

— 3.0k words

eijirou kirishima | hard dom + dubcon jic + f!reader + exhibitonism + face-fucking + dumbification + car sex + more! minors dni.

"Made me come all this way...it’d be a pity if I didn't get somethin' out of it."

"No, no, no, no, no—c'mon," you cry as your car engine spits and sputters to a stop in the road, coughing like an old man with asthma before it's dead for good. Jamming your heel on the gas pedal, you twist your key in the ignition, but there's no use. You're fucking stuck.

You sigh, before slamming your forehead against the steering wheel. It's hard enough to sting, and the blaring horn startles all unsuspecting birds in a five-mile radius, but you could care less. Stuck in the middle of the woods at one in the morning, AAA membership-less with nothing but the clothes on your back and the vehicle you came with. Short cuts are a fucking myth.

Mina's the only person you can think of calling—because frankly, she's the only one who'd know a mechanic who could help at this time of night if one exists. Which you doubt. Severely.

"[Y/N]?" Mina answers, semi-urgently. You wonder if you startled her out of a good sleep, but knowing the night owl, her evening is just beginning. "What's up?"

"I'm fucking stuck in the middle of nowhere," you groan, banging your head against the back of the seat though you know she can't see you. "Car's not working."

"Oh no," she coos, and her pity is useless. "Do you have AAA?"

"No. Do you have a mechanic?"

"A mechanic...at one am? I don—wait," she interrupts before you hear something akin to rustling sheets. "I might have a friend who could help! But don't get your hopes up girlie, he's a heavy sleeper."

You shrug, shaking your head. "At this point, I'm desperate."

"Alrighty!" Mina confirms, and now all you can do is fucking hope her friend pulls through. "I'll give him a quick buzz and then send his number over, sound good?"

"Sounds perfect," you breathe, relaxing (somewhat) with your chin against the steering wheel. "Thanks, girl."

"Of course!" she cheers, and you wonder how someone could have so much energy at this time of night. "Good luck!"

"Thanks," you snort. "I might need it."

Riiiing! Riiiing!

Eijirou's had a long day.

A pipe busted at the auto shop today, resulting in an immediate flood—meaning they had to get everything that could possibly rust out as quickly as possible, aka everything in the goddamn shop.

So, yeah. He's had a long day, and when he's finally able to get under the covers and go the fuck to sleep, Mina calls him with this.

"Hey...Eijirou, buddy, best friend—"

"Mina, I love you, but what do you want?" Eijirou grunts into the phone, voice worn and ragged from limited sleep and his terribly long day. One am is never an appropriate time to call anybody, but he figures something has to be up—Mina's not the type to call in the middle of the night.

"Um, well. My homegirl’s kinda stuck in the woods with car troubles—"

"The woods."

It takes Mina a second but she hums in confirmation, and Eijirou can see her head nodding from where he lays. He sighs, rolling on his back to blink up at the ceiling. "Yep!"

"What is she doing in the woods at midnight?"

"I don't know!" Mina exclaims. Eijirou runs a hand over his face. "I just—please, Ei? She doesn't have AAA or anything and it's really, really late. All you have to do is hotwire her car or something, right? It's not like she totaled it or anything."

And dammit. Eijirou hates being a nice person.

"Just give me ten."

Mina practically gasps out a thank you, "You're a lifesaver Ei! Really! I—"

She's interrupted by the buzz of his phone—this time, from an unknown number. Eijirou raises an eyebrow, "That her?"

"Should be!" The pinkette says. Eijirou's feet finally touch the floor and it's painfully cold. His bed has never looked more appealing, and that's counting all those instances in high school. "Thanks again, Ei!"

"Yep," Eijirou says, popping the 'p,' before clearing his voice and switching the line. Customer Service at one am, here he comes.

"Red Riot Auto Repair and Services, how may I help you?"

All he receives is a grunt on the other end of the phone: "My car won't turn on."

Eijirou waits for you to give him a little more to work with, but it's clear that's all you have to say when you ask hello to ensure he's still on the other end of the line. Runs his hands through his hair, he silently prays he won't have to leave the house to get your car to work.

"Did you try jiggling the key?"

"Yes, I'm not stupid," you huff, and Eijirou's eyebrows fold in exasperation. He insists you do it again though, and hears the weak splutter of your engine through the phone with a heavy heart. "'S fucking useless."

"Did you try tapping the battery terminals?"

"The battery whatsitals?" You say, too loud and smart-mouthed for the very thin amount of patience Eijirou harbors. He reaches for his hair tie, satisfied enough with the messy bun he makes on the first try.

"Just send me your location," Eijirou sighs, moving for a jacket before snatching the keys to the shed. He'd rather just get this over with than beat around the bush.

Luckily, you're not far. 

"You drive that thing?" is your first comment, and Eijirou can't even appreciate your beauty before your first words shatter your image completely, and he's slamming the door to his truck with rolling eyes, rusted toolbox heavy in his hand. "It looks like Mater from Lightning McQueen."

Eijirou just stares at you for a second, just to see if you're really serious, and resists the urge to scoff when it seems like you are.

"It's a truck," is all he says, before marching around you and to the task at hand—your car. "Pop the hood."

You huff, but you listen, and Eijirou wastes no time in getting to work. You watch with your elbows balanced on the rim, curious but quiet, and that allows him to get in the zone enough to realize there are countless problems with your car.

"When was the last time you took this thing into the shop?" He probes. You click your tongue, eyes tracing the outlines of the trees as you search for an answer. That's never a good sign.

"Um...never?"

"And how long have you had it?"

"A few years," you nod, and Eijirou drops his head.

"It's a miracle you made it this far in the first place," he chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. What the hell is he going to do now? There's no way your car is moving anywhere tonight. You frown, jamming your hands on your hips.

"Well? Are you going to fix it or what?"

"I can fix it," Eijirou says with a shrug, closing your hood. "But not tonight."

"What do you mean not tonight?" You badger, breathing down his neck as he hikes back to his truck to set the toolbox down. There's no reason to carry it if he's not going to need it.

"I mean, your car's going to need a solid six months before it can run again, Sweetheart."

When Eijirou turns, you're much too in his face for his liking. He can practically feel your breath against his chest, and it has him rolling his eyes, leaning against his truck with arms crossed.

"Yeah, okay, but I need it to run tonight," you explain, gesticulating so wildly Eijirou fears his own chest may fall in the cross-fire. "Like, I need to get home tonight."

"I can't—" the redhead sighs, running his hand over his face. You're terribly difficult, and if Mina had given him a proper warning he probably wouldn't be here in the fucking first place. "Listen. My shop is out of commission for the next few days 'cause of a flood. I can work on your car or whatever, but it'll take a sec, so the most I can do is drop you at a hotel down the road or somethin'. Sound like a plan?"

"No," you growl, claws and all, and Eijirou wishes for nothing but death. "That doesn't sound like a plan! I don't know you, what makes you think I'll get in a car with you?"

Oh. My. God.

"Then you can spend the night in your car and have Mina come get you in the morning," he huffs, stomping over to the driver's side of his truck. "So it's either you're gettin' in, or I'm leaving ya."

With that, he slams the car door shut, shoves his key in the ignition, and counts to fucking ten, and on nine and a half you're flinging open the passenger door and bouncing in the seat, arms crossed over your chest in indignance. You don't even look him in the eye.

"Seatbelt," he warns. You tut.

"I don't need a fucki—"

"Put on the goddamn seatbelt."

You don't say anything, but he's satisfied by the click that follows. Eijirou shifts into drive and you two take off.

"The seat's so uncomfortable."

Not even twenty feet.

"Suck it up," is all the pity Eijirou has to offer. He's preoccupied with trying to get from this side road to a main road with, you know, actual civilization. The road is unsteady—unsteady enough that a bump sends the both of you flying towards the roof of his car, and naturally, you have something to say about it.

"Y'know, for a mechanic, you're not a very good driver," you say, and it has Eijirou's fists tightening around his steering wheel. His patience wears down until it has the height of a penny, and Eijirou worries for when it shatters because he has no clue what he'll do if it does.

"And it smells a little funky," you continue anyway, eyes wandering around the cabin aimlessly."Kinda like cheese. No offense."

Eijirou pulls over at that, teeth grinding. Is he really going to snap over cheese comment?

“Is this a condom?”

Yes. Yes, the fuck he is.

"Get out."

"Um—excuse me?" You blink, eyebrows raising in offense. "You're kicking me out. Because I found a fucking rubber?”

Eijirou glares your way and he's sure you can feel him radiating fury, and that's enough to convince you to hop out of the car without another word. He follows, slamming the door behind him.

"Okay? Now what?" You growl, and Eijirou loves it—the false display of confidence. Because he knows it won't take much to break you once he gets you under his thumb, and you'll look so pretty once he does. Cocking his head to his side, he tells you to come here without having to open his mouth. You follow.

"Now, on your knees."

You splutter at his request, rolling your eyes as if he wasn't being serious. Though you shut up once you hear the clink of his belt, lips widening in revelation, and Eijirou thinks you'd look much prettier with your mouth full.

"You made me come all this way—it'd be a pity if I didn't get somethin' out of it," Eijirou says, and the way you shiver implies that you like this more than you let on. He coos when you say nothing, "And for the first time today she's got nothin' to say. See? You're improving already."

He gives you a second to move. When you don't, he lifts an eyebrow. "Knees, Princess."

You do and Eijirou groans at the view, palming his hardening cock at the sight of your bambi eyes blinking up at him—and it's a pretty one, at that. Leaning against the door of his truck, he grunts, "Take it out."

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his boxers and Eijirou shivers upon contact with the cool air, but the warmth of your palm makes up for it. You spit on his cock with a curled lip and it's nothing short of crude, before you're swirling your tongue around the head and taking him as far as you can possibly go.

"Uh-uh," Eijirou tuts, grabbing you by the hair to pull your mouth off his cock. "We got at my pace, Sweetheart."

"Why?" You pout with a curled lip. Eijirou scowls.

"Because," he says, before stuffing half of his cock down your throat, "I'm gonna put that big fuckin' mouth to use at my pace."

With that, Eijirou thrusts into your mouth, using the grip he has around your hair as leverage. Your throat is impossibly warm and the way you choke has him keening, and that's enough for his hips to start picking up mindlessly.

"Shit—what a dirty fuckin' girl," he says, smirking when you moan around his cock. "You like this? You like sucking off a guy you just met?"

Your eyes flutter at that, nails digging into his thighs, and it nearly has him cooing. When you swallow around him Eijirou's hips stutter and he grunts, "In public, no less. Anyone could drive by and see you taking my dick down your throat...but you'd like that, wouldn't you? You want the world to know how much of a slut you are."

Your hand falls between your thighs and Eijirou grins like the devil as he watches you touch yourself on the dirty road, desperate just because knows how to push the right buttons. That's enough to have him caving, demanding you rise to your feet and get in the backseat of his car.

"Hands and knees," Eijirou urges, his body towering over yours from behind. It's not long before he's pinning your wrists to the windshield with one hand and using the other to land a harsh slap on your ass; harsh enough to make you jolt forwards from the force.

"Such a pretty ass," he coos before slapping it again, and your teeth dig into your bottom lip to muffle the sound. "And it's all for me, ain't it, Princess?"

You nod, but Eijirou spanks you again—he's looking for an answer.

"Y-Yeah, yes, all yours just—" your hips wiggle in search of his cock. Eijirou chuckles, leveling his lips with your ear.

"Want me to fill you up, Princess?"

You gasp out a yes, nodding vehemently. The redhead finds he likes you like this much better, chest rumbling with arousal. "Yeah? How bad?"

"B-Bad, please, I need t—fuck!"

Eijirou stuffs you full with one thrust, and even he needs a moment, freehand searching to hold onto your hip while his grip tightens around your wrists. You quiver under him, and he swears he can feel your gut contract around his cock, eyelids fluttering when you grind against him.

"Holy shit," Eijirou finds himself wheezing, not expecting you to be so tight. You drop your head against the cool windshield, whimpering like the pretty little thing you are, shuddering as he pulls out before ramming himself in again until he's balls deep. You scream, back arching from the angle.

And fuck. It's impossible for him to stop after that.

"Fuckin' look at you," Eijirou chuckles, body practically caging you against the seat, "Drooling all over my window like a slut. Fuck, you really know how to get a guy goin' huh?"

“Pull—pull my hair,” you request, words from his pistoning hips. Eijirou tuts and rips your hands off the window in favor of pushing your head into the seat, not making a move to yank on your hair once.

“I don’t think you’re in the right place to be making demands, Princess," he growls before his hot palm cracks against your ass, hissing from the way you tighten around him when he does.

You whine at that, pushing into him the best you can. It only spurs his hips on faster, and Eijirou lets go of your hands in favor of grabbing your face instead, groaning at the sight of the tears shining silver from the moonlight. He likes the fact that you can't do much but gasp and rock against him, your hands falling to clit to finally push yourself off the edge.

He looks at you and all he sees is his dumb little thing, who can't do anything, let alone get her car to work, and that's when Eijirou realizes he doesn't want this to be as much of a one-time thing as he initially thought.

"Gonna...gonna cum," you slur, cheek mashed flat against his window. Eijirou fucks you into the door of his truck, pace quick and bruising, as his mind thinks of all the fun you two could have together—all the fun he wants to have with you.

"Cum, Sweetheart. Make a mess of my cock and my leather seats, yeah? Show me how good I make you feel."

You tighten around his cock, tight, and that's enough to send him spiraling into an orgasm of his own, hips stuttering to a stop as he fills you up. Though his hips never stop, not until you're coming around his cock with a broken moan, curled toes digging into his car floor. He watches you catch your breath, splayed across the seat, with a sudden realization that he feels much lighter, but doubts it was the sex that did the trick.

"You fucked your anger out now?" You wheeze, breaking the silence, and Eijirou snorts.

"I—yes," he says before his eyes trail to the scratch marks around your hips and thighs. "Are you...okay?"

"Never been better," you toss your arms in the air like you're on a rollercoaster but lack the energy to scream. It's cute and it had the redhead re-evaluating everything, wondering how the day could start so shitty and yet, end so well. "Are you okay?"

His eyebrows furrow, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," you shrug, and Eijirou finds it hard to stay focused when you look like that. "You asked me, so. Everyone needs a post-sex check-in, ya know?"

Fuck.

Fuck, yeah he's definitely keeping you.

[cosmichoneyedblossoms]

Under Cover

Pairing: Vampire Anyo x Reader

Genre: Smut | Angst

Word Count: 1.6 K

Requested: Yes, it may not be what you were hoping for, but it’s what I came up with 😰

“Anyo!” The calling of his name had him turning his glance from the dark liquor in front of him to the voice calling his name. Even through the dark, busy club, she could always find him, “You’re here again?!”

“Yes, I am.” Veronica, the only woman to ever stay glued to him, “I’m hoping to see her again tonight.”

“Seriously? She’s been leading you on for weeks, and yet she still hasn’t given into you…” She plopped down into the seat beside him; his eyes caught the small bloodstain on the sleeve of her shirt—she’s been feeding in the building, again.

“Vee, how many times has Baraton told you to not feed on the grounds? If we get caught, we’ll have hunters on our tail in no time, and if you want to live to see 400, you need to be on your toes.” He lifted his glass to his lips, their lusciousness caressing the glass while letting the warm liquid slip down his throat, the burn almost nonexistent.

“You’re so stuck up, Anyo…” She sighed, shifting her eyes toward the door, “Homegirl at your six.” It was shocking that Veronica caught your scent before he did, was the liquor getting to him? He turned in his seat to see if she was joking or not, but within seconds there it was—a dense mixture of sandalwood and honey, your scent. You were stunning as you made your way up bar, the right black dress hugged every bend of your body, it showing off everything you usually hid from him; you looked delectable enough to entice him out of his chair.

“Y/N.” He hummed, taking the space next to you. Your eyes held something different, something darker than the previous times he’s looked into them.

“Anyo, just the man I wanted to see.” He could smell the liquor drifting from your skin, but he wasn’t going to point it out.

“Am I?”

“Yes! I’ve been dying to see you.” Gripping his T-shirt, you pulled him closer to you, the gentle colliding of your bodies had his heart thrashing in his chest, “How could I not want to see the most attractive man in the world?” Your warm breath against his ear as you whispered pure flattery made him want to taste you, devour you until you were nothing but him.

“How about we get out of here?” He smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist, locking eyes with you. He usually didn’t need to compel anyone to take him home, but you were utterly something else—you made him feel good, actually made it hard for him to contain himself, in all of his 460 years he had never met anyone that turned him into this eager and impulsive man. He could see your eyes grow dark, his compulsion taking full effect, but your response wasn’t one that sounded like it was working.

“One more drink, and then we can go.” Breaking contact with him, you lifted the glass that the bartender had sat down in front of you moments before for him to take it from you.

“Just one more.” He drained the glass, killing it quickly because waiting any longer might kill him. Placing the glass down, he felt your hands sliding up his chest, spreading your warmth through his body, “Y/N—” Quick lips stole his, your tongue eager to taste the liquor he stole from you; his hands quickly resumed their spot on your hips, but this time they slid down to the bend of your thighs, lifting your body. He wanted to take you right there, but in a dark club filled with people was not where he had planned, on the other hand, your body was making it hard to stay composed, “Y/N…” He hummed into your kiss, the feeling of your legs tightening around him sent his mind running to the gutter—he was at his breaking point, “Let’s take this somewhere—”

“I can feel you…” You whispered in his ear while grinding your core against his growing erection, “Do you want to fuck me, Anyo?”

“Yes…” His voice shook under the feeling of your breath against his lips, “I’ve been dying to feel you…” The snap of a card next to him made him turn his head to see the bartender placed a VIP room card down for him; he put you back down onto the floor and grabbed the card as well as your hand. He waded through the crowd with you behind him, the anticipation of finally being able to taste the girl of his dreams had his cock twitching in its holdings. Anyo slid the card into the lock, upon the ring of the door, he pushed it open, and yanked you inside the room. Through the quiet room, he could hear your heart pounding in your chest; the anticipation rattled him as he pinned you to the wall, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this…”

“Show me how much you want me…” You slid your core over his thigh that sat nestled in between yours; he could feel your wetness through his slacks. The heat spreading through his skin only caused him to become more aroused.

“As you wish.” He dropped down to his knees in front of you while placing one of your legs over his shoulders. Hiking up your dress, his eyes feasted over your pantyless pussy, “You came prepared.” A quiet hum radiated through you as he delved his tongue between your dripping folds; sighs of pleasure echoed through the room, your voice rose in pitch when he ran his hungry tastebuds over your stiff clit. Your fingers dug into his thick blue locks, gripping tightly at the roots to bury his face into your impatient core; he slid his tongue into your hole, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips. Flicking his inside you, he rubbed tight circles over your aching nub; you could no longer hold back your moans of pleasure as your orgasm hit its climax.

“Fuck, Anyo…” You whined, watching him pull away from the mess between your thighs.

“I don’t know how much longer I can wait, I need to be inside you…” He rasped.

“Clothes off then.” A devilish smirk flashed over your lips, he caught the twinge of dark energy in your eyes, but he was too desperate to even think about it. He took off his pants as quickly as he could before picking you up and toting you to the couch; plopping down, he had you straddling his thighs, his cock just inches away from your sopping core, “You really are impatient are you?” You stood up from his lap to get down onto your knees, “You’re a little too big for me, how about we lube you up?”

“Lube me—” He gasped feel your lips wrap around his sensitive head, you didn’t waste any time, your tongue swirled around him like a hurricane before deep throating his cock and slurping back up it, while your mouth focused on teasing this throbbing head, your hand pumped his length, coating every inch of him in your spit and his precum. Anyo sucked in a break as you devoured him again, the tip of his cock grazed the back of your throat causing his hips to thrust deeper into your right mouth, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum…” With every jerk into your mouth, the more he lost himself, the more he gave in to his animalistic side, but with a few ragged thrusts, he pulled away from you to stroke his cum onto your face. You gazed up at him through the mess he made, locking your gaze with his glowing amber eyes, “I hope you’re not ready for a break…”

“W-why would you—” He swiftly picked you up and made you straddle his thighs, he didn’t give you the chance to even adjust to him, he just rammed his cock deep in your pussy, “W-wait— let me—”

“I don’t think I can…” He relentlessly attacked your sensitive nerves, landing never-ending pointed thrusts to your g-spot; he couldn’t get enough of you, your walls felt so good coiling around him that he couldn’t stop. He could feel your pussy started to tighten around him, which didn’t help with his orgasm, “Cum for me, Y/N…” He panted, gripping your hips so tightly that there would surely be bruises coloring your skin in the morning. Your juices dripped from your core onto the leather couch underneath you, your mind went blank, and you could’ve sworn you saw stars as your orgasm took over you. Anyo pulled your body to him, the animal in him unable to hold back any more, he opened his mouth near the nape of your neck and inhaled deeply before digging his sharp fangs into your skin as he reached his high.

“Oh, Anyo…” You breathed, finally coming down from your high, “You shouldn’t have done that…” One gulp of your blood, and he knew he was in trouble. The most excruciating burning sensation made itself apparent in his throat, and it began working its way down into his stomach. He groaned, withdrawing his fangs from your neck, he felt like all the energy he had just vanished into thin air.

“What did you do to me…?” He rasped, watching you get up off of him.

“Vervain. I drank vervain tainted water before I came to see you.” You said matter of factly while pulling down your dress, “I bet you didn’t even know I was a hunter.” Anyo groaned, trying to get up from the couch, but the vervain has him in so much pain that he couldn’t move. He watched as you pulled a small compact firearm from your bra, you pulled back the slide, and a bullet slipped into the chamber.

“Silver bullets won’t kill me…” He strained, still trying to get up.

“Oh, I know, that’s why they’re wooden bullets.” You pressed the nozzle of the gun against his chest and began to pull the trigger, “It was nice knowing ya.”

[dammit-daroga]

*bangs fists on table* DRAG LND! DRAG LND! IT DESERVES TO BE DRAGGED AND GOD BLESS YOU FOR SITTING THROUGH IT.

LND HATE IS WHAT THE PEOPLE WANT

okay here we go. just some, ya know, thoughts. off the cuff. uhhhhhh this is real long so see under the cut for all the Hottest of Takes: unedited

(tw for mentions of violence against women/abuse)

-this shit is,,,, SO misogynistic. like sure chrisitne gets like 47% more human agency than in phantom (y’all i ain’t even ragging on that one. that show is a jam and we all love it so its the ONLY free pass i give to ALW) but then that agency just evaporates in act 2 like sure shes like BITCH LEAVE ME ALONE but like,,,,, hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,,,,,,,,,,, love how all of act 2 is literally these 2 assholes deciding who “gets” christine like i’m so done

-okay related... maybe i’m gettin way too womens studies on this one but like.... the obsession?? with who gustave’s biological father is???? like bitch it DOESN’t MATTER he’s a sweet (if emo-inclined) kid. literally the obsession with male parentage is such a fuckin hold-over from primogeniture and the roots of patriarchal society like BITCH let him be a cute and talented kid

-also fbkjdbkfbaidubgariugbriub OF COURSE gustave is good at and likes music have you MET HIS MOTHER???? goddam christine just gets no respect in this show

-speaking of women who get no respect in this show WHY DID ALW HAVE TO DO MEG SO DIRTY. like hey how do we break and emotionally abuse this really sweet and loving character to the point of murder-suicide ideation? oh gee i know, only the Worst Possible Thing That Can Happen To Women: Prostitution and Rape! Perfect! like jhbdbflaukblubflud there are so many other ways to have gone about that which don’t involve sexual trauma also i can’t even get myself STARTED on the level of shit linking women, sex, insanity, Evil, Sin in General like FUCK i’m so angry

- u know what this turned into a women’s studies rant so ima keep running with it

-so the fuckin look with your heart song? really pretty, soothing lullaby type piece, honestly love that melody (im always a slut for 3/4 and 6/8 time) but holy FUCK the lyrics are way more YIKES than I remember from when i was like 13 or whatever. like i get that the intended point of the song was like “yeah love don’t judge people just love them!” which is nice and all but oh my GOD it can also be turned to be like “haha yeah absue is okay if you love each other” like the “forget what you think/ ignore what you hear” line rubs me the wrong fuckin way as a woman who has seen friends stay in abusive relationships and refuse to listen to the people who are concerned for them like oh my GOD just. idk. give it a listen with that lens. or don’t. will probably ruin an otherwise VERY pretty and wholesome song

-this wore me out emotionally far faster than expected. more another day.

-wait one more thing

- LET CHRISTINE HAVE THE LAST BOW YOU ABSOLUTE   F U C K S  like LND is a shit show but the titular song (despite it’s lyrics sounding like low effort first-try poetry) requires SO MUCH SKILL AS A SINGER TO PERFORM like that alone should earn homegirl the last bow but ya know whatever

-i hope i never meet ALW bc if i do i’ll probs be arrested for immediately punching him in the throat

-thanks for coming out tonight y’all i hate LND

[builder051]

prompt list

I actually have 435 followers now; IDK how that happened…

Alright.  Here’s how this is going to work.  Last time I did a prompt list, I got an overwhelming response (I wrote 22 fics), and I only had 100 followers back then.  This time around, I’m instituting some rules to keep things running smoothly.

I’ll keep this event running for one week (Evening of Thursday 05 July through Evening of Thursday 12 July) OR until I receive 25 prompts (controlling for duplicates).  At that point, my inbox will close again until I’ve written all of them.  I plan to post them as I write them, so I’m not sure how many I’ll get done each day.  My goal is to write at least one prompt a day, however, don’t get upset if things get a little delayed; my leg is in a cast and I am back working full time, so I got some shit going on.

**When you ask for a prompt, please copy and paste it into the ask**  This saves me having to go back and look it up later.  It also makes it way easier to search for the posts after they’re published.

There is no length guarantee.  Some of these lend themselves to short drabbles, and others work as longer fics, so expect some variety there.  In order to appeal to everyone’s various interests, I’ve tried to mark the prompts as to whether or not they’ll feature emeto.  Per usual, most of the prompts are sickfic-, angst-, or h/c-based, but a few are comedic.  I’ve bolded a few of the fanfic prompts I’m super ecstatic about, but no pressure.  Choose whichever you like best.  If there’s something else you’re desperate to see (especially if it’s for creedless assassins, since I didn’t put them on the list), feel free to send in an ask with your own prompt, though I reserve the right to say no thanks.

Thank you so much for following and for sticking with me.  I hope this is a fun event for all of us.

My OCs: Jax Beach

1  Todd gets motion sickness when Mel brings home a VR headset (emeto)

2  Mark gets overheated and sick while he and Troy are at Pride (emeto)

3  Mel assists when Amelia is sick at work (emeto)

4  Mark tries to surprise Troy at work and take him out to dinner, but homeboy isn’t feeling up to it

My OCs: Mike & Co

5  Drunk/high Colby gets sick and spends the night on a street corner (AKA that one piece of his backstory I keep referencing but have never written about) (emeto)

6  Ash gets motion sickness while he and Hannah travel by greyhound bus (AKA that one prompt I keep meaning to get to and never do) (emeto)

7  Mike has strep and Jason threatens to quarantine her

8  Colby takes Jason to hot yoga and things go very badly (emeto)

My OCs: Bostonians (H and P are in the middle of a thing, so these are going to be either prequels to their current arc or prompts for Kris and Khalil)

9  Kris is a good Samaritan when a member of the church choir faints/gets sick (emeto)

10  Hildur drags herself to the drugstore for provisions when she’s sick with the flu

11 Kris takes a depressed Khalil out to breakfast and tries to cheer him up even though he really doesn’t want to hear it (sorry this is a super weird prompt, but it’s already a wip on my computer)

12  Pierce is determined to make it through the workday even though he’s sick and looks terrible (emeto)

Captain America

13  Pre-serum Steve takes care of a drunk Bucky (Heroverse, pre-WWII) (emeto)

14  Darcy looks out for Bucky when he’s sick at work (Powers/No Powers) (emeto)

15  More on Steve and Bucky’s “not bad for the end of the world” moment in Infinity War (could possibly go nsfw; missing moments)

16  Bucky has another seizure (Whoa Bessie) (emeto)

Irondad and Spiderson

17  Tony gives Peter a talking-to about staying up all night when he stays at the facility upstate (but sometimes you really do have to study for a Spanish quiz)

18  Tony’s injured on a mission, Peter fusses, Tony objects, and Peter pulls the “if it had happened to me, you’d be fussing” card

19  Peter throws up after doing some Spider-Man acrobatics and tries to walk it off, but he’s actually sick (emeto)

20  Tony has a panic attack in front of Peter (emeto)

Other Spider-Man

21  May tries to convince Peter he doesn’t have to go to his Stark internship when he’s sick (emeto)

22  Peter comes to school sick and ragged out, and Ned tries to guess what kind of adventures Peter was up to all night as Spider-Man (“No, dude, I’m just sick.  Gimme a break.”)

23  Peter and Shuri are working on a project and Peter’s super antsy.  Shuri asks him what’s up, and Peter tries to play it cool, but he’s super nauseated (emeto)

24  Peter’s on patrol even though he has a fever, and Karen gives him all kinds of warnings

Nat on Fire

25  Nat attempts to hide a concussion (emeto)

26  Steve and Nat have a fight about Nat’s declining health

27  Nat starts using again, and Steve finds her high

28  Flashback where Nat detoxes from cocaine before joining SHIELD (emeto)

Clint & Laura

29  Laura calls Clint in sick to work (“Sorry, Nick, Clint can’t come to the phone right now.  He’s hugging the toilet.”) (emeto)

30  It’s Clint’s turn to get up and soothe the crying baby, but when he gets out of bed, it’s all he can do to get to the bathroom before he pukes (emeto)

31  Clint and Laura have date night all planned, but Clint’s sick and they end up staying in for ginger ale and saltines (emeto)

32  When your wife tells you you don’t look so good, you should probably believe her

Science Bros

33  Tony and Bruce get drunk, and Tony’s a lot more used to it than poor Bruce (emeto)

34  Tony’s new suit upgrades go amiss and he ends up motion sick (emeto)

35  The boys work out a serum to calm Bruce down after hulking out, and it ends up doing a number on his stomach (emeto)

36  The giant bag of weed mentioned in Avengers (2012) is actually a thing

Nat & Bruce

37  Nat’s injured on a mission and in a lot of pain, Bruce hovers (emeto)

38  Bruce calms down after hulking out on a mission, Nat watches out for him (emeto)

39  Nat sleeps over in Bruce’s room and wakes early with a fever.  Cue some raised eyebrows when he starts looking for ibuprofen for homegirl while the rest of the team is eating breakfast

40  Bruce is hiding/avoiding everyone because he’s sick, and Nat just wants to check that he’s ok

Black Panther

41  T’Challa does take Shuri to Coachella, and she gets overheated

42  T’Challa takes a kick to the gut in combat and has a little trouble shaking it off (emeto)

43  T’Challa’s sick and Shuri has medication for him in her lab, but she makes him wait for her to bring it to him so he won’t vomit near her precious equipment (emeto)

44  Shuri tags along to train with Okoye and T’Challa and ends up pushing herself a bit too hard (emeto)

Daredevil

45  Foggy’s sick with a fever, and he’s super confused when he sees Matt taking care of him and running around the apartment like he’s not blind at all

46  Claire’s patching Matt up after a night of vigilante shenanigans, and he vomits from the pain (emeto)

47  Karen and Matt are alone in the office when Matt gets sick, and she’s not sure how much help he needs (ensue mega hovering) (emeto)

48  Claire suspects Matt has a concussion and calls Foggy to babysit him while she goes to work even though Matt insists he’s fine (he’s not) (emeto)

Jessica Jones (JJ/Avengers crossover)

49  Jess is belligerent and drunk; she and Nat have an argument

50  Jess is hungover (emeto)

51  Jess goes on a mission with Nat and gets injured but tries to convince Nat she’s fine

52  Nat and Jess get drunk together, and Nat doesn’t fare so well (emeto)

Criminal Minds

53  Spencer’s coming down with a bug, but being on the jet makes him sick to his stomach too (emeto)

54  JJ wakes up sick in the night and Will takes care of her (emeto)

55  Spencer’s anxious and craving drugs, so JJ comes to his aid

56  Spencer feels ill and faint at a crime scene and tries to explain that he’s not overwhelmed, he’s actually sick (emeto)

Titan A.E.

57  Akima’s reckless flying gives Cale motion sickness (emeto)

58  Cale is unwell and wandering the Valkyrie in the middle of the night when he runs into Akima

59  Alternate Cale and Korso meeting: Cale’s vomiting into a trash can and Korso comes to his aid (emeto)

60  Alternate Cale and Akima meeting: Cale’s nauseous when he wakes up injured on the Valkyrie (emeto)

[iwriteficsnottragediesladies]

Choosing to Stay

Requests:

Hi umm can you do an angsty brendon x reader where the reader is emotionally abused by her family like degrading her calling her stupid and she starts questioning her existence then brendon’s her bestfriend and confesses to her and itll be fluffy and shit

Do you think you could write a kinda angsty fluff where the reader’s parents kick her out and Bren comes to the rescue :) god I love your writing

A/N: This is what I came up with, I hope you like it.

Tws: verbal abuse, suicidality, happy ending

“For fuck’s sake Y/n, we already talked about this,” Your father shouted, “You can’t keep doing this shit.”

“Dad, I’m sorry. I couldn’t focus, I was so nervous,” you reply quietly.

“I don’t care how you felt,” He scoffs, shutting you down, “This is just not good enough, Y/n!” 

“I’m sorry Dad,” you repeat, “I studied so hard—“

“Clearly not hard enough,” He snapped. “God why can’t you be more like your sister?’” He says exasperated,  “You see how successful she is, on her way to medical school? She makes me proud.”

“What?” you cried, “You’re ashamed of me, is that what you’re saying?”

“Well you certainly don’t have much to show for yourself do you?” He hissed.

“Mom?” you looked to her and pleaded, praying she would step in.

“You need to get your grades up,” she says seriously.

“Go to your room and study, you idiot,” Your father waved you away, “Maybe you can try to make something of yourself.”

You walked down the hallway and into your room. You shut the door and sat on your bed, staring down at your quilt, running your fingers over the squares. You had made it yourself, out of your favorite old t-shirts. You remember when you showed your parents, so happy with how it came out. Your dad took one look at it and asked you, ‘What kind of shitty rag do you think that is?’

He always had to take things away from you. Anytime you felt successful, he had to take it away from you. And your mom was practically just as bad. She was so passive and always let your dad blow up. You guess she must agree with him but doesn’t have the voice to say it herself.

Your sister was always the star of the show—a valedictorian, star softball pitcher, president of the debate team equipped with a full ride at Johns Hopkins. And then there was you—an uncoordinated, mediocre student riddled with social anxiety and lacking any sort of leadership ability.

Tears roll down your face as you pondered your father’s words.

not good enough

why can’t you be more like your sister

you certainly don’t have much to show for yourself do you

you idiot

try to make something of yourself 

You would never be your sister. You were an idiot and your grades were proof. You didn’t have trophies or medals to display proudly on your dresser. You were going nowhere in life. And most importantly, you were not good enough. For anything. Academics, sports, friends, relationships… You have no right to be on this planet. Your father had a point.

You contributed absolutely nothing to the world. You had nothing to offer. You might as well disappear. Your parents obviously wouldn’t miss your meaningless existence. Who would?

Well, maybe Brendon would.

You had been close since freshmen year. You met on the very first day of school in homeroom. You kind of used each other to get accustomed to high school—it was a way to never have to eat alone or have to ask a random person to help them open your locker because you forgot which way to spin the dial first. Eventually it became a lot more than just a logistically advantageous friendship. You both had so much in common.

He loved music like you did. He was so amazing at it too, between his singing and piano and guitar and the general ability to pick up any piece of music and make it his own. It was beautiful. It was pure art.

You always felt special around him and he treated you like you were really worth something. He always listened to you so intently, genuinely interested in every word you spoke.

But that was three years ago. You started to grow apart, mostly because your classes and lunch periods never aligned quite right, so you had to branch out to other people. Brendon did that effortlessly with his vivacious yet gentle personality. You, on the other hand, struggled to make a single friend. You successfully made some connections with a few people, so you had people to eat with and talk to during class, but they were barely more than acquaintances to you. None of them could even compare to your friendship with Brendon. 

You decide to read the assigned chapter for your history class. It is a futile attempt, as you can’t see through your tears and can’t comprehend the words through your pain. Your inability to learn only affirms your worst thoughts.

You’re an idiot. Worthless. Why can’t you be smart? Like your sister? Your parents wouldn’t miss you if you were gone because they would still have Susie, their favorite daughter. You’ve always been second best.

You give up and get in bed. The bad thoughts play in your head over and over again. You think about ending it all. All it would take was a pair of scissors… a belt… it wouldn’t be hard. It’s not rocket science. It’s darkness. Quiet. Sleep. Peace.

No. You scold yourself for having those thoughts. There must be some reason to stay, some reason you were here. But you just couldn’t think of a single one.

You cry yourself to sleep, thinking about how you could stop the pain you felt. It hurt too much. You just couldn’t take it anymore. You pray maybe you just won’t wake up tomorrow. It would make it easy.

You wake up to your alarm in the morning. You’re still alive. Maybe that’s a sign you should keep going. You get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. You are greeted by your horrific reflection. Puffy eyes and such a tired expression. You try to think of a time you’ve ever felt pretty or comfortable in your own skin.

In no time you’re ready to go to school. You enter the kitchen and see a paper bag with your name on it. Your mom had packed you a lunch. How sweet of her. A small smile is drawn on your lips. Maybe she felt bad about last night. Just as you finished your thought, she entered the room. You sling your bag over your shoulder.

“You packed me a lunch?” You ask.

“Yeah, sweetie,” she replied quickly, “I think it would be good to… stay away from that cafeteria food for a while.”

“Oh?” You responded with an inquisitive look.

“You know, it’s very… high in calories,” she slowed, “and I just thought that you look a little… heavy lately.”

“Really?” you freeze up.

“Your clothes are getting all stretched out,” she offered up an example. “You would look so nice without that extra weight.”

“Oh um, okay,” you fumble, “I’ll see you later.”

You shove the bag into your back pack and walk out to the bus stop. Tears welled in your eyes. You were right all along–you were fat and ugly. You were stupid to think any different. You should have listened when your dad called you ‘Miss Piggy’ last week. You take up too much space, yet another reason to end it all.

You trudge through the school day. You get an exam back in calculus and it’s an F as per usual. Idiot.

You sit at lunch and look to see what your mother had packed: an apple, crackers, and a few small slices of cheese. The ration was so small and bland. Were you really that fat? Your stomach growls for the remainder of the day in protest of such a small meal.

You decide to text Brendon, because why the fuck not? You miss having him in your life. You desperately need someone to tell you that everything will be okay. Maybe he would agree with your parents though because everyone else seems to. You might as well try because Brendon was your last hope. You conclude that he would be the deciding factor, to stay or to let go.

Hey Brendon

Hey stranger, how have you been?!

Good, how about you?

Good good. Do you have study hall next period?

Yeah

We should meet up cause it’s been forever

You hesitate. What if you disappoint him with who you’ve become since the last time you talked? You were such a disappointment to everyone, why would Brendon feel any differently? You still say yes. He was would be the final straw.

Yeah sure. Library?

Perfect, see you then

When the bell rings you make your way to the library. You take a deep breath and enter. You see Brendon sitting in what used to be your usual hangout spot. It makes you smile a bit. Brendon’s face lights up when he sees you.

“Hey y/n!” He says quietly and gives you a big hug. You had forgotten how good his embrace felt.

“Hey Brendon,” you smile at him as he releases you. You set your bag down and sit. You force a smile as Brendon looks at you from his corner seat next to you. You always sat there because you could talk to each other without having to shout across the table.

“What’s up homegirl?” He asked with that patented smirk. You had almost forgotten about those nicknames you used.

“Not much homeboy,” you reply with a true smile. “Are you still working on your music?”

“Yeah!” He replies enthusiastically, “I’ve been doing a lot of writing. I like making my own stuff you know. You get to create something that has never been made before, you know?”

Brendon never failed to be introspective. You loved that.

“That’s amazing Brendon,” you reply.

“Hey you should take the composition class with Mr. Soli with me next semester!” He thought aloud.

“That sounds really cool,” you reply, “but I don’t think I would be good enough for that class. That is more your level.”

“What do you mean, Y/n?” He furrows his brow, “You’re an incredible writer. I’ve always loved your songs.”

“Yeah I don’t know,” you say quietly, looking down at your shoes with a frown.

“Y/n,” he started, “is everything okay?”

You should have known he would see through you. He always read you like a book. Put that together with how you suddenly contacted him… He could put two and two together very easily.

“Yeah, yeah,” you brush it off, “I’m all good.”

“Okay,” he accepted your answer wearily.

You continued on with your conversation. Before you knew it, the bell was ringing. You exchanged goodbyes. As you start to leave Brendon suddenly interjects.  

“Y/n,” he said, “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“I know,” you reply simply with an empty smile.

When you arrive home your mom greets you. You go to grab a snack from the cabinet but she stops you.

“You don’t want that many extra calories today, do you?” She asked. Although it was a question, it was obviously a command.

“Okay,” you put the snack back.

“Dad and I are going to Frank and Donna’s dinner party tonight, so there is a salad for you in the fridge for dinner.” She reminded you.

You retreat to your room and it’s not long before your dad comes home. You hope he’ll just leave you alone and go to the party without talking to you.

“Y/n?” You hear your dad call. Fuck. You hesitantly enter the kitchen.

“Did you get your exam back from calculus today?” Your Dad inquired. You nod. “What did you get?”

“A 58%” you mutter. Your dad sighs and hits his fist on the table, causing you and your mother to jump.  

“Y/n,” he yelled, “Why can’t you get anything right? Are you retarded or something?”

“Im sorry Dad,” you look down at the ground but his glare still cutting through you.

“What are you going to do with your life, huh?!” He questioned, “You’re an idiot!”

Your eyes well up and a tear rolls over the brim.

“I’m trying dad,” you beg him to understand.

“You’re useless,” he scoffs, “Completely worthless.”

“I know,” you whisper. You agreed with him, so what would be the point of arguing anyway?

“Stop crying!” He shouted, “Go to your room and do your homework. Maybe learn something. We’re leaving.”

You walk back to your room in tears. You can hear the garage door shut and you know you’re alone.

You’re an absolute mess. You are sobbing and hardly able to breathe, sputtering and coughing on your own spit, snot and tears.

You’re an idiot. Worthless. Fat. Failure. Not going anywhere.

Dead end.

The pair of scissors on your desk catch your eye. You walk over and pick them up, spinning the handle around a finger. You sit down and hold the closed blades in your hand, the metal cooling the palms of your sweaty hands.

You hate yourself. There was no way to better yourself. None of that was going to change. May as well end it now and avoid a lifetime of being worthless and a poor excuse of a daughter.

Your parents? They have made it clear they don’t want you around. They won’t miss you. Your sister? She’ll go on with her wildly successful life just fine. Your teachers? They won’t miss having your stupidity in the class, having to repeat the information over and over again for you. Your friends? Your fair weather, small talk friends will be just fine. Brendon?

Oh shit.

But Brendon.

The thought of him caused another choked sob escape.

‘You know you can talk to me, right? About anything’

You don’t know if you can stop yourself from what you are wanting to do. Everything hurt. You can’t live like this anymore.

You pick up your phone before you can think about it too much and pull up his number.

Calling Brendon

“Hey Homegirl,” he answered in his usual jovial tone, happy to see you called, “What’s up?” You attempt to pull yourself together enough to speak but it’s pointless.

“Bren,” you reply breathlessly, your voice drowning in tears, struggling to make a coherent sound.

“Y/n?” Brendon is shocked. “What’s wrong?” He asked quickly.

“I c-can’t brendon,” you sputter, “i just can’t anymore,”

“Can’t what, y/n?” Brendon asked gently, trying to understand.

“Brendon please, I’m about to do something stupid,” you admitted through your tears.

“Y/n, where are you right now?” Brendon asked seriously. He seemed to get exactly what was happening.

“In my room,” you breathe out.

“I’m on my way right now,” he reassured you.

“No don’t,” You spit weakly.

“Y/n, I’m coming over,” he repeated. He wasn’t going to leave you alone like this. You guess you wanted him to do that subconsciously or you wouldn’t have called him.

“Okay,” you fold so easily, knowing that you need him.

“Listen to me,” He directed, “I want you to put down anything you have in you hands, clear everything off your bed, everything in reach, and sit in the middle of your bed until I get there, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Mhm,” you confirm. You can hear the engine of his care turn over in the background.

“I’m going to be there soon, just sit right there, okay?” He told you.

“Okay, bye,” you replied

“See in you in a second,” he finished.

You did exactly as Brendon said. You put the scissors down. You took all of your school work off of your bed and put it on the floor. You scooted the night table away out of your reach. You sat in the center of your mattress, your phone in front of you.

You breathed in. You breathed out. You tried to fill your mind with the rhythm of your breathing, but the bad thoughts still slipped in. You can’t believe this is what your life has become. You have gotten to the point where you would truly rather die than live.

You grew up with two parents, a sister and a cat in a middle class suburb. Your dad was a dick, but other than that, life was pretty good. Nothing horrible or traumatic has happened to you. Yet here you were, trying to push what a pair of scissors could accomplish out of your mind.

You continued to cry, feeling absolutely helpless.

The doorbell rang and you hear Brendon banging on the door. You get off of your bed and start to make your way to the front door.

“Y/n?” Brendon called against the wood door, “Y/n open the door.”

You pull the door open and you stand looking at each other for a moment. Brendon takes in your appearance: you red face soaked with tears that have fallen all the way down to wet your shirt, your hair in utter disarray.

“Tell me you haven’t done anything already, Y/n,” he asked with pain and worry deep in his eyes. You shake your head.

“No, no,” you tell him, “You stopped me Brendon. I was going to do it, I really was.” You started crying at the realization that you really were about to end your life if you hadn’t called him. You then throw yourself into him and start sobbing all over again. Brendon wraps you in his arms and you stay there, just like that, in your doorway for a while.

“You’re going to be okay, Y/n,” Brendon whispered to you, “You’re going to be alright. We’re going to work this out, whatever it takes.”

“I love you so much, Brendon, thank you,” You pull away from him and gratefully.

“Thank you, Y/n,” He says. You look at him curiously. “Thank you for choosing to stay.”

A/n: Okay, I hope that wasn’t too bad. I really like this fic because I had someone do this for me, and I have done it for other people. Sometimes knowing someone cares is all it takes to keep going to the next day. I love you guys so much, I care about each and every one of you. Please contact me if you need anything. I will be your sign to keep going.

Like and reblog if you’re feelin’ it.

[shona-sims-blog]

Other Side of the Game (An Urban Sims 4 Story)

Part 9 || Griffey

Corianna’s body started to shake and I felt her walls constrict around me. She always felt right and no matter how many women I had in my bed – she was always the best. Maybe it was because I knew that she was mine and had ever only been mine. Or maybe it was because she was impossibly tight or stayed so wet for me. My breaths started to become ragged and I began to pump faster. The heat under the covers caused me to perspire, making beads of sweat roll off my body and drip onto the valley between her bouncing breasts. They were so full and round, I scooted downward to catch one of them in my mouth. Her fingers clawed over the muscles at the back of my shoulders and pulled me nearer to her body. My lips grazed her collar bone and the touch caused her to whimper. My hips froze as she clenched herself around me and I closed my eyes. Fuck, she felt so soft and warm. As her walls started to spasm around me again I exploded deep inside of her.

“Oooooh,” She moaned loudly in my ear. “Griffey, fuck yesss. Mmm,” I slowed my strokes and muffled her mouth with a kiss to keep her quiet. The temperature under the blankets was increasing and I couldn’t last much longer.

I thrust into her several more times before every part of my body had gone limp. I rolled off of Corianna and somehow found the energy to wipe myself with a brown towel. She slipped on a white dress she had stored away in one of my drawers and cleaned herself with a wash cloth. We sat on the bed in silence for a moment and kissed before I stood up to get dressed in my clothes that had been left on the bed then kicked onto the floor. She looked pleased.

I grabbed the sticky bath towel from her and tossed it on the corner of my computer desk. When I turned around, Kali was in front of me with dimness in her green eyes, her mood had suddenly changed. She only gave me that look when she was upset about something, but I thought that everything was fine. We just had finished having passionate sex and I knew that she was satisfied. What was her issue?

“You know it’s hard for me to take your mad face serious when you’re wearing those bunny slippers right?” I joked in an attempt to make her laugh.

“I’m starting to think you don’t take me serious at all Griff,” The stoic look on her face remained unchanged. I began to wonder if she was bi-polar, she was just moaning my name with her legs up.

“How could I not take you serious? You know how I feel about you,” I told her in a state of disbelief. Corianna was riding and grinding against me less than an hour ago, where was this coming from?

“Actually, I don’t think I know anything about you anymore,” She said with her hands outstretched as if she was mocking me. Yeah, something was definitely up with her. We had been on good terms for a few weeks, but apparently she was mad at me now and felt the need to play mind games and shit.

“Listen yo’, I don’t know what’s wrong with you. But you can tell me or keep your attitude, I don’t have time to stand here and figure out what the fuck is wrong with you,” I decided to get straight to the point. I hated when she acted so childish, especially after I gave her a good pipe down. When I wasn’t hustling or on the corner, I spent a majority of my free time with her, and always made sure that she wanted for nothing. I should be the last person she decided to have a problem with.

“Oh, so we cussing at each other now? Hmph,” She let out a puff of air and rolled her eyes before squinting at me at me. “I don’t have an attitude – you have the damn attitude,” Corianna started laughing to herself, but I didn’t find anything funny. I was starting to get annoyed, she knew just how to push my buttons.

“Look, I didn’t mean to cuss at you and shit, but you trippin’ ma,” I lowered my voice so she understood that I was calm. Besides, yelling wasn’t going to help me find out what was bugging her. “Just tell me what’s wrong? I’ll make it better, a’ight?” She tapped her foot and poked out her bottom lip, I wanted to bite it. She looked so sexy when she was mad.

“Griff,” She let out a breath and looked around the room, everywhere else but me. I figured whatever she was about to say had to be something that I wasn’t going to like.

“Yeah, what it is?” I questioned and waited for her to continue.

“I talked to ‘Nique and she told me –,” I cut her off.

“Ugh! Really though? I should have known her stupid ass said some shit to piss you off!” I hated to hear Unique’s name, she stayed in my fucking business, always reporting to Corianna like some goddamn watchdog. “She told you what Cori? A lie? That’s all she do – just to have something to talk about,” Whether or not what she said to Cori was true, it wasn’t her business to tell.

I started to wonder if she knew about the bitch Candace I was fucking around with? Damn, Corianna was going to be mad for a minute. I started to calculate in my mind how much money I had to spend to make it up to her. I stared at her and prepared myself for her to start crying or screaming about me being a “lying ass cheater”.

“No. Griff,” She sighed and shook her head. “Unique told me that Bella was tryna’ hook her homegirl up with you, that girl with the red hair. Beatrix,” Corianna said with another roll of her eyes, as if saying Bee’s name annoyed her.

I almost sighed in relief at her not knowing about Candace, Good. Unique didn’t know all of my business. Still, Geechie needed to learn how to keep his mouth shut. Unique had him whipped, he was breaking the “bro-code” for her. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to let anything about Beatrix slip around his big-mouth girlfriend.

“Really? Baby? Are you serious?” I asked her, making sure I sounded surprised.

“Yes, I’m serious. Dead serious Griff,” She said and punched my arm making my arm flinch. She didn’t know her own strength.

“I barely even know her, that’s my second time even seeing her,” Okay, maybe my fourth, but she didn’t need to know that. Corianna raised one of her arched eyebrows, giving me a quizzical look and I kept talking. “Unique is blowing the entire thing out of proportion,” I continued explaining. “I only told Bella she could invite her. That’s the only thing I’m guilty of,” I was guilty of a lot, but I hadn’t messed around with Beatrix. Not that I didn’t want to, but it just hadn’t happened yet. I looked at Corianna hoping she would be satisfied with my answer, I was actually being truthful with her.

“Did you have sex with her?” Corianna asked me straightfaced and I sighed while shaking my head ‘no’. “Are you sure, because she was eyeing me all night? You know I’ll beat her ass.” She said waving her palm in front of my face.

“Beatrix can get these hands.” I couldn’t hold in my laughter when she punched at the air. No doubt Corianna could fight, but those were no more than idle threats. For one, I would try my best to keep them apart and I was sure they wouldn’t run into each other on their own because they were totally different and hung out in different groups. And two, no girl I fooled around with had ever tried to fight with her before. No matter how bold they were, all of them still knew where they stood and stayed in their place.

“Yes! I’m serious Cori! Quit trying to fight random females,” I stopped laughing and looked at her eyes. They were calmer and filled with light amusement. She knew that I was being honest with her and I knew that she still didn’t know what truth I wasn’t telling her, so I think in that moment we were both happy. 

“Okay, Griff.” She said with a small smile. I could hear thunder and see lightning strike outside of the window. “I’m sorry… But you know Unique only tries to look out for me.” I nodded and shrugged, not wanting to her her name again.

“Yeah, but looking out for you and stirring up shit in our relationship is two different things baby.” I stepped forward, closing the space between us. “Talk to me about whatever is on your mind first so that we don’t have to get into petty ass arguments.” I pulled her by her waist and drew her nearer to me so that I could kiss her cheek.

“You’re right,” Her voice was softer and her body relaxed as I gently stroked her cheek. “I don’t even know why I was trippin’,” I shushed her with a kiss and pulled away to look at her beautiful face. I hated to see her worry and get upset, but she knew what it was when we started our relationship.

She had to know that I didn’t mean to make her love me and hurt her in the process of me living my life. I wish she could only understand that I didn’t have feelings for the other girls I had sex with. It was as simple as I always told her, they were just something to do. When I got bored with them and lost interest I pursued another. Still, only one woman had the key to my heart, all of them knew that Corianna would always be my baby.

“I care for you so much,” I told her truthfully. “I’d never hurt you like that.” I said quietly because deep inside I knew that I would hurt her over and over again. But for the moment I stood there with her embraced in my arms, right then nothing else mattered but her. I heard thunder boom again, it had started to rain.

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