#i smoked a cig i picked up from the bathroom floor and it tasted like soap

[virsancte]

anatomy of grief: wish

gonna explain a couple things under the cut:

i'm playing in portsim, so the portsim characters/townies will show up. i ended up writing quite a bit for this while just playing the game in portsim hence i'm here lol the save file is legit the main driving force behind my creativity around this game.

this is reese! he's simultaneously the focus of this and not. i'm not sure if it'll be a proper story or a series of edits; what i have in mind is more like a few short-ish comics with the usage of the game, so the narration could possibly get a little wonky (by a little i mean a lot).

reese was the parentified oldest sibling of their... rather dysfunctional household. he was a wannabe singer, an artist, a cryptonite drug addict, local super-parent and an unfortunate soul just short of accepting the help he needed. i ended up growing *incredibly* attached to him lol. i probably wouldn't be bringing their story to simblr otherwise.

the main narrator is eden, his sister. she was about fifteen when he passed. i want it to essentially follow the process of trying to understand the sudden loss of someone who acted as a solid rock in his sister's life, the many steps towards moving on, and possibly the eventual acceptance of the events that occurred as everything 'clicks into place'.

this is a fairly personal project(?). i'm drawing from personal experience as well as the focus of my academic pursuits. i'll explain more about the characters as i proceed! if you end up reading any of the read mores, thank you + i love you + i'd die for you +

[theshiaxartistwrites]

Dawn of Trouble

Fandom: Five Nights At Freddy's: Security Breach Rating: Explicit Tw: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Violence, Blood and Gore, Child Death, Character Death, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence AO3 Link

Chapter One

“So what’a ya got next, Badger?” Lark asked the still, empty air after he turned off the cd player they had propped up on a crate nearby. Badger, Lark’s elder by about a decade, got up from where he’d been knelt, tossing aside his gorey bush knife. Aged tan skin was hard to see in the dim light, his scarred shoulders making him easier to spot in the dark. His amber eyes were tired, but seemed to brighten when they turned toward Lark.

“Got my assignment this morning,” Badger gruffed, wiping bloodied hands on his once white tank top before pulling a metal case of hand-rolled cigarettes out of his pocket. “Some undercover work at that robot mall out West.” Badger stepped over his flayed victim and walked over to Lark, bare feet slapping wetly on the concrete.

“Robot mall?” Lark dug out his lighter and flicked it on, holding it up for the taller man to lean down, hands cupped over the flame, and inhale the little blaze into his homemade fag. “Do you mean that Fazbear’s Pizzaplex that opened up last year?”

“That’s the one.” Badger straightened up, letting his smoke fill the cold air between them.

“What could they possibly need you to do undercover work at a kid’s entertainment place for?” Lark sat back, trying not to be dripped on by Badger’s blood-drenched arms.

“Who knows, but the money is nothing short of outlandish.” Badger turned the cigarette in his hand and held it to Lark, who graciously leaned forward and took a drag without taking it from him.

“Damn, any idea how long it’ll be for?” Lark sighed, content.

“A month or two is their estimate, longer if required. I’m going to be working daytime security there.” Badger stuck the cig between his teeth. “They’re paying for cosmetic surgery, said I gotta look the part.”

“Aw,” Lark pouted, reaching up to play with one of the grey streaks in Badger’s long black hair. “I like the silver fox look.”

Badger huffed a little puff of smoke in Lark’s face, grabbing the younger man by the jaw.

“Are you calling me old?” He pulled the cigarette from his mouth.

“Absolutely.” Lark grinned, turning his head in an attempt to bite Badger’s hand, missing when Badger quickly pulled away.

“Don’t do that, you don’t know where he’s been.” Badger flicked Lark’s.

“Say’s the man leaving bloodied prints all over my face!” Lark laughed, grabbing a rag to wipe the blood from his forehead and cheeks. They fell into a quiet lull, slowly cleaning up while they shared Badger’s cigarette. Once the body was properly chopped, wrapped, and tucked into several of the crates, the floor mopped and bleached clean, and all their tools recollected, the pair made sure to wash themselves up in a nearby bathroom before pulling on their coats.

“That everything?” Lark practically skipped over to Badger’s side.

“Aye.” Badger nodded, opening the door to let Lark out before stepping out himself into the afternoon light.

“Kinda ironic that he picked you, huh?” Lark prodded Badger’s side with an elbow.

“Mm.”

“Y’know, since I was supposed to be the bait.”

“Piss poor bait.”

Hey!” Lark let out a startled laugh, smacking Badger’s arm, not missing the smirk behind his beard. “It’s not my fault I wasn’t pretty enough for him!”

“Oh? Is it mine then?”

“Absolutely! You stole my spotlight!” Lark pouted, crossing his arms with a huff. Badger draped his arm around Lark’s shoulders, pulling him close and nuzzling his cheek before giving him a playful bite on the soft part of his face.

“Ow! Rude!” Lark laughed, pushing Badger away.

“It’s alright, Lark, I still think you’re cute enough to eat.”

Lark groaned, pushing Badger hard enough to make him nearly stumble into the street.

“It doesn’t count if the actual cannibal didn’t want a taste.” Lark laughed, grabbing and dragging Badger back to his side so they could walk arm in arm again. It was a few blocks before Lark spoke up again.

“I’m gonna miss you.”

Badger blinked, looking down at the dejected man looking up at him. Lark squeezed Badger’s arm.

“Lark…It’s just some undercover work, I won’t even be gone that long and then I’ll be home.” Badger brushed a bit of the bright caution-yellow hair out of Lark’s face, tilting his chin so he could see Lark’s deep walnut brown eyes. “We’ll even take a year off and go on vacation somewhere loud and busy and fun, just for you.”

“You promise?” Lark wrinkled his freckled nose at him.

“I promise.” Badger offered up his pinkie finger, locked tight with Lark’s, and planted a nice big smooch on the shorter man’s forehead, his short greying beard causing Lark to giggle and squirm.

-

Badger left early the next morning after getting his affairs in order and seeing Lark off to the train station. Picking up his designated vehicle from a nearby lot, an refurbished, 1995 Sprinter van in light blue with clear wear and tear. All the seats inside had been removed and it had been remodeled into a camper of sorts. It had a narrow bed, a working sink and stove, a small fridge, and a fair amount of storage space. Too small for a bathroom, though, that wasn’t great, but his bosses worked in specific ways.

He found his new identity in a backpack under the front seat, reading through his history on his way north to his first stop. His new identity was a younger man, 34 to be precise, by the name of Donald Roberts. He liked to be called Don, his favorite color was green, and he had a decade in high security environments. Don was a coffee addict and a smoker, thank god, and was getting married next year to his boyfriend, Larry Bird, of 9 years. The guys upstairs really were being nice to him this round, this was going to be easy.

His mission was to work his way from daytime security to Daycare Assistant, by any means, then he would receive the rest of his mission. Badger nearly inhaled his cigarette when he saw what the Pizzaplex would be paying him. $62.50 an hour. No overtime though. No wonder the pay was so good, they had to pay more than he would earn just from working there. Had to keep his loyalty somehow.

His first stop was at a hospital on the East Coast, a little clinic in the back where he was led into the basement for his ‘touchup’. His beard was shaved and his hair was dyed to remove any grey, then he was put under, getting proper sleep for the first time in a week. Three days later he walked out looking a decade younger, not just his face, but even his hands and body had been revitalized. Didn’t help his bad hip though, all the ‘de-aging’ had been cosmetic only. The picture he sent Lark was met with a multitude of emojis, only half of which Badger actually understood, all of which he knew were thirsty as hell. He was going to miss his little idiot.

His next stop was to what his people called ‘The Locker’, one of many that dotted the country. It was a simple motel building that housed all the things needed for different jobs. The old woman at the reception counter barely looked up from her magazine to flick her cigarette ash on the counter. Badger didn’t meet her eyes, taking his key off the rack behind her and walking up to his room. All of his personal effects would be staying here, locked away until he or Lark came to retrieve them. His clothing, his phone, his ring, even his shoes. All of it was tucked away in a combination safe that was built into the closet inside the otherwise disgusting room. The backpack with his mission specs was also packed up and tossed inside, no longer necessary.

All his new belongings were inside a box on the uncovered mattress that they called a bed. A few sets of clothing, a new phone, a watch, a pair of round glasses, two pairs of shoes, and a wallet with a few hundred dollars in cash and all his new identification. The most unique piece of equipment was a gun, looking like it was made of a sturdy plastic instead of metal, a box of bullets that looked to be made of rubber to pair with it. ‘Don’ got dressed and filled up his pockets with what he could, bundling the rest in his arms and heading back out, leaving the key on the counter as he left. He made short work of packing away all his things into his van and attaching his keys to his wallet, slipping on the glasses and finding that they were not only fake, but plastic as well.

He wasn’t scheduled to start his new job until Monday, so Don spent his weekend driving around and getting himself familiar with the area. He ate out a few times, found where places with public bathrooms were, and where he could park his new home without being accosted by the local pork. When Monday came, Don was dressed up in a nice pair of black slacks, brown dress shoes, and a white t-shirt, as was requested in his new work email.

The Pizzaplex was a bit…more…than Don was prepared for. It had to be roughly four stories tall, with massive windows above the front entrance that he could see a multitude of flashing lights inside. The sheer size of it from the outside had him gawking, perhaps a bit longer than he should have when he noticed some of the parents nearby were giving him wary looks. He brushed back his hair and hurried inside. It was almost brighter inside than out, the pink neon lights reflecting off of the shiny checkerboard floors practically burning his eyes after almost a week of nighttime driving through wooded roads. The sound wasn’t much better, the volume of the music, the laughter and screaming of children and parents alike, and the sounds of games being played elsewhere echoed back as a cacophony of headache-inducing noise. Disorienting was the only way he could describe it. The thought of working here for more than ten minutes had him already thinking of a way out. How hard would it be to get fired-?

No.

No no.

He was a professional.

There was no way some overglorified arcade was going to scare him off. He just needed to adjust.

Don froze before he could even try to find the office he was supposed to be heading for, a short white robot on wheels with a grey ‘staff’ hat on its head rolling towards him with purpose.

“Donald Roberts. Follow me.” It said in a monotone drone, not waiting before it turned around and led the way. Don didn’t hesitate, long legs carrying him quickly after it. It led him out of the main lobby and into a hallway, past a door that read ‘Employees Only’. Led down to a small room on a corner with a sliding metal door, the bot stopped just outside the room, moved aside so he could step past the door.

“All Fazbear Security personnel are required to wear the standard uniform and equipment,” The staff bot said. “All provided at minimal cost to you.”

‘Minimal?’ Don hiked an eyebrow.

“Your daily tasks will be sent to you by way of your company smart watch, any damages to your uniform or equipment will be deducted from your paycheck.” The staff bot continued as Don moved into the room and took a look around. It was a small security room with a set of filing cabinets, a desk, and a computer with several views from the cameras displayed. Folded on the seat of the rather rusty looking office chair was a long sleeve, white button up shirt, a brass security badge, a black ballcap with ‘Security’ on it in bold white lettering, a heavy duty flashlight, a bright orange ‘Faz-Watch’ with a blue wristband, and a green gator-print lanyard with a security badge attached. Turning back towards the door, Don got to watch as the staff bot turned and left without another word.

“Right.” He breathed between clenched teeth, shutting the door while he moved the pile of items and sat down. He put on the Faz-watch first, booting it up to see what exactly it was. It was actually quite a bit more sophisticated than he initially thought. It had four different apps built into it. First was a map of the entire complex, along with a pinpoint of his current location, incredibly handy given how ridiculously complex it all looked at a glance. Second was a ‘Tasks’ section where it seemed his daily and current tasks would appear. Next, a messenger app with a few different contacts already listed.

-Management

-Staff Network

-Main Network

-Emergency Services

-Security Network

He’d have to ask what each of those meant later, but perhaps face-to-face with someone so he didn’t look the fool.

Last was a Cameras App, the godsend to his work, a fully functioning system that let him switch between all the cameras in the building based on floor and area. His job just got astronomically easier, or so he thought. A gentle beeping sounded from the watch, a new task had appeared. Tapping on the little red circle, he blinked at his ‘tasks’.

-Dress according to Fazbear Entertainment Standards

-Spend the day familiarizing yourself with the Pizzaplex layout

-Greet and introduce yourself to Freddy Fazbear

-Greet and introduce yourself to Roxanne Wolf

-Greet and introduce yourself to Glamrock Bonnie

-Greet and introduce yourself to Glamrock Chica

-Greet and introduce yourself to Glamrock Foxy

-Greet and introduce yourself to Montgomery Gator

-Greet and introduce yourself to The Daycare Attendant

-Greet and introduce yourself to DJ Music Man

That was…a lot of meet and greet. Half of the names he recognized as animatronics from the iconic band that the Megaplex made its name with, but the others? Surely at least a few of these were actual people, right? Maybe that was the magic. He was going to meet the people behind the suits. There was no way robots could be so lively and complex, it was a little silly for someone his age to even assume such. Well, no time to waste.

Don pushed himself to his feet, his hip making a loud pop, and pulled on the shirt, tucking it in before putting on the badge and lanyard. The hat was a bit snug and he didn’t have anywhere to put the flashlight, or ‘Faz-Lite’ as it was clearly branded, but it wasn’t like he needed the flashlight during the day anyway. So the flashlight was left on the desk for now, with a plan to get a holster for it later. Checking his map, he made a plan. It seemed the Daycare and Gator Golf were the closest to his current location, so where better to start his introductions?

[novoaa1writes]

“f**k you.”

pairing(s): mandy milkovich x reader

summary: you and mandy are friends with benefits, or... something. you tentatively discuss her pregnancy, and offer your help. mandy is... less than pleased. (contains spoilers for season 2 of shameless)

rating: mature

word count: ~1,400

warnings: unhealthy relationships, implied/referenced canonical child abuse, teen pregnancy, implied/referenced sex, swearing, brief discussion of abortion, minor blood, implied/referenced drug addiction, implied/referenced forced pregnancy

notes: reader is an adoptive gallagher, raised with them since childhood but unrelated by blood. also, the reader is not necessarily specified as female, but they do have b00bies. take that as you will. also available on ao3.

if you've seen shameless (U.S.), this is written very much in keeping with the fucked-up interpersonal dynamics that make up the entirety of the show. the reader's relationship with mandy isn't a healthy one, and the writing reflects that. i'd even say there's likely a solid argument to be made that the relationship between mandy and the reader is actually abusive in some aspects. please don't read if that's going to trigger you in any way.

✳ ✳ ✳ ✳ ✳ ✳

You’re lying in bed together, naked and glistening with sweat, when you finally dare to broach the topic. 

“So, uh…” you trail off, sitting yourself up with a grunt to reach for the pack of cigs and lighter strewn on the floor nearby. Mandy stares you down with an unreadable expression as you put one between your lips and— “Shit, sorry,” you apologize, tossing the joint aside. Smoking and pregnancy don’t mix. “That’s, um… Sorry.”

‘Cause sure, maybe you’re not the pregnant one here, and maybe you know for damn sure that your meth-head mom wasn’t sober when she had you kicking around in her tummy, but you figure refraining from smoking around Mandy when she can’t is the least you can do.  

Mandy sighs, props herself up on her elbows and gives you a knowing look. “Just ask,” she says. She sounds exhausted. 

You lean back into bed, hold yourself up with an elbow as you turn to face her. “Pregnant, huh?”

“Ian told you.” 

“Your dad, actually,” you correct her, then instantly regret it when you see something like fear flicker through her gaze. “Ian’s fine, though.”

“No, he’s not.” Mandy huffs out a sigh, hanging her head back, eyelids fluttering shut. An errant thought comes—that you’ve never seen her look so defeated or beautiful: naked in bed after rounds of desperate sex, bedsheets sagging low on her slender hips, pert breasts rising and falling with every measured breath. You’re quick to do away with it. “My dad’s gonna kill him.”

You shrug. “Lip and I’ve been doing some brainstorming. We’ll figure it out.”

If Mandy hears you at all, she doesn’t let on. “I tried to tell him,” she murmurs, eyes still shut. “He didn’t listen.”

“Who, Ian?”

Mandy gives the slightest shake of her head. “My dad.”

“Well, I mean… We know it can’t be Ian’s, but you had that thing with Lip, right? What if it’s his?” You feel a little uncomfortable bringing it up, having grown up alongside him since you were little. Lip, Ian, Carl, Debby, Liam… they’re your siblings in everything but name. 

“It’s not.” Mandy collapses back down onto the mattress with a huff. 

“Oh,” you say. You don’t ask, ‘Then whose is it?’—even though you kind of want to.

“My dad… he drinks a lot,” Mandy mumbles after a long moment. Her eyes flutter open, but she isn’t looking at you. She’s staring straight up at the ceiling—through it, even, like it isn’t even there. Like she isn’t there. “Mistakes me for Mom.”

Every muscle in your body goes tense as nausea churns in your gut. “Your dad…” you repeat, swallowing down bile. 

Mandy slants a look over to you, dead-eyed and emotionless. “It’s not a big deal,” she tells you, a cold edge to her tone. “Stop fuckin’ looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re pitying me.”

It takes everything in you not to glance away from her, run down the hall to the bathroom and puke your guts out in the toilet. “What do you want to do?” 

Mandy shifts her gaze back to the ceiling. “You got $600 lying around?” 

For a split second, you’re confused. Why $600— 

And then it hits you. An abortion at the clinic. 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t.”

Mandy nods, eyes watering, a sardonic smile tugging at her lips. “Thought so.”

You bite the inside of your cheek hard until you taste blood, thoughts racing. A second later, you’re surging upright, stumbling to your feet. 

“The hell are you doing?” Mandy asks, sounding caught somewhere between bone-tired and just plain irritated. 

You snatch up your jeans, feel around for the flip phone you had in your back pocke—

There it is. 

You flip it open, scroll through the handful of contacts until you reach Kev. 

Phone against your ear, you chance a look back at Mandy. She’s got a murderous look in her eye. You figure you’ve got about two minutes before she starts chucking anything and everything within reach your way. 

Please, Kev, pick up. 

Two rings on the other end, then—

“Go for Kev.”

Thank fuck. 

“Hey, Kev,” you say, beginning to pace. You’re buck-ass naked, and Mandy’s watching you like a hawk (a very angry hawk, granted), but you don’t really have it in you to be self-conscious about it for the moment. “You think I can rent out the Alibi for tomorrow night, do a, uh… fund-raiser type thing?”

“What? Who’s dying?”

You roll your eyes. “No one’s dying, Kev. I just need to raise $600 bucks. It can be a… bake-sale, or some shit. Put a couple other random things up for sale, too. Grammy’s gun, some of Monica’s old clothes… All goes well, we make enough to cover renting the bar for the night and then some.”

Mandy’s gaze turns from murderous to calculating as she watches you, though you know better than to think that means you’re in the clear with her. 

It’s quiet on the other end for a beat, then two. Eventually, “Tomorrow night?” he repeats. 

You nod, biting your lip. “Tomorrow night. I’ll get everyone off their ass to start baking tonight. Debby can make some fliers, spread the word. It’ll be a full house. Please, Kev.”

He heaves a sigh, and you know you have him. “Alright,” he agrees. “Drop by later today, we’ll work out the details, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course, I’ll be there,” you agree earnestly, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Thank you, Kev. You’re the best.”

“Don’t I know it. See you soon. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You’ve only just shut the phone and clutched it to your bare chest, wearing a stupidly proud grin, when—

SMACK!

Pain explodes across your left cheek, whipping your entire head to one side. 

“Fuck!” you curse, looking up to see a fuming Mandy standing before you, bloodshot green eyes alight with mutiny. “The hell was that for?”

Mandy just glares, seething silently. 

“What?” you ask, pins and needles dancing along your cheek. 

It’s quiet for a beat. 

Then Mandy’s surging forward, crashing her lips into yours in a bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth and wet warmth. 

Oh.

You’re frozen in shock for a second or two, your mind still kind of stuck on the part where she slapped you, but a warning growl against your mouth has you instinctively parting your lips and ceding Mandy’s unspoken request, reciprocating with fervor. 

A strangled groan works its way up your throat and she swallows it with ease, fingers snaking into your hair, yanking until you whine. 

You toss the phone somewhere off to the side, hear it land with clatter. You really couldn’t care less. 

Your hands fall to her naked hips and you pull her flush against your body—chest to chest, hip to hip. Mandy whines with approval as you snake an arm around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer like it’s not enough to have her breasts mashed against your own, her heartbeat thrumming along your skin. 

You want more; no, you need more. 

She’s a whirlwind—destructive, turbulent, beautiful in her fury. Your free hand creeps down to lift her thigh, guiding it to curl around your torso even as she devours you, bites at your lower lip hard enough to make it bleed. 

“Fuck you,” she gasps between violent kisses, breathless and angry. “You fucking idiot.”

“Kiss me again,” you say, and she does—gripping a hand around your throat and crashing her lips into yours, one hand still tugging relentlessly at a fistful of your tousled hair. The stinging sensation brings tears to your eyes. 

“Don’t need your help. Don’t need anyone’s help.” She pulls away panting, only to lick up the blood that’s started dribbling down your chin before kissing you again with just as much fierceness and hostility as before. 

Your cheek aches, your lip stings, your lungs burn from lack of oxygen. All you can taste is coppery blood and stale cigarettes and Mandy, Mandy, Mandy. 

She’s never been this rough with you before. Then again, she’s never been this pissed off at you before.

You decide you should piss her off a lot more often. (Especially if this is how it’s gonna be when you do.)

✳ ✳ ✳ ✳ ✳ ✳

end notes: do i realize mandy milkovich is problematic and kind of insane? yes. am i still lowkey in love with her? double yes. 

link to masterlist

[sweetlilpaulie]

The Magical and Mysterious Wishing Well Pt.II

Request for a Pt. II w/ angst. I’m really sorry guys.

George X Reader

Caution: Language, misty eyes (maybe, depends on your mood)

~~~

The boys had just gotten back to the studio, and started recording again. Cynthia had to go back home, get ready for work, and so (y/n) was left alone with the boys, Eppy and George Martin.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. She was the first outsider to hear these songs. She watched intently, listening to each take, each change, each improvement and each step towards the song she knew would be a #1 hit in a few months. 

“I think I'm gonna be sad, I think it's today, yeah. The girl that's driving me mad, Is going away.”

She closed her eyes, getting lost in their voices, tapping her foot gently on the carpeted floor. 

“My baby don’t care,                                                                                               My baby don’t care,                                                                                                 My baby don’t care,                                                                                                 My baby don’t care...”

(y/n)’s eyes opened once they had finished and they immediately landed on the shy Beatle, who was looking at her, amusement in his own eyes.

“Excellent. We’re done for today, you can go home now.”

The boys let out a cheer, and escaped the room, taking themselves outside. (y/n) found herself following them out into the chilly breeze. 

“So, how’d we do?” George questioned her.

“Excellent. I have a feeling that song’s gonna be legendary.”

“You think so?”

Oh, I know so, honey.

“Yeah, I really do.”

He smiled.

She smiled back.

“George, a light if you please?” Paul had come out of nowhere, fag between his lips. George, clumsily shoved a hand in his pocket, in search for his lighter. Unfortunately, before he could grab it, it fell out of his pocket. 

He picked it up sheepishly, and thrust it into Paul’s palm. 

“Care for one, m’lady?” Paul pulled out his pack.

Only get to live once, right? Probably a really dumb idea.

“Sure. Thanks.”

He handed her the ciggie, and she licked her lips before placing it between them. Then George yanked his lighter back, and lit (y/n)’s for her. 

Taking in a breath, she felt the immediate need to cough. She forced herself not to, eyes watering slightly as she did so. She blew out the smoke.

Huh. Definitely a bad idea. Oh, well. 

Paul and George chatted with her, almost aggressively. It was as if the two boys where seeing who could get the most information out of her sooner. There was definitely also some tension in between the two boys, (y/n) had noticed. 

She cleared her throat, after the two had started arguing about something completely off topic, and very childish. 

“Er..boys, do you happen to know where the loo is?”

George pointed to the studio and was about to give directions, but Paul interrupted him. Again.

“Here, let me guide you.”

He put a hand on the small of your back and urged you forward.

“Oh c’mon Paul, it’s the loo for Christ’s sake.” George grumbled.

As much as you liked Paul, you felt he was pushing it just a little bit. You were having a bit of a moment with George, and he rudely interrupted. 

“And here we are.” 

“Yes, thanks. There was no need....”

“I know. Actually, I was hoping we could have a moment alone.” he bit his lip.

You raised an eyebrow. “For what reason may that be?”

“I was wondering...If you weren’t doing anything...maybe we could...get to know each other a little better? Maybe...dinner? Tonight? 5:30 or so...?”

Oh, God this can’t be happening. 

“Erm...well, I was actually gonna have dinner with George so...” she awkwardly wrung her wrists as she looked down at her very non 60s shoes. 

“Oh, of course...” he seemed a bit disappointed at that. “Maybe tomorrow then?”

How could I say no? I mean he’s Paul c’mon! Two dates with Beatles in the same week? 

“Yeah, I think that should work.” 

He looked like a giddy schoolboy. 

“Gear! I’ll see ya soon then!” he then surprisingly gave (y/n) a peck on the cheek.

Now, she slightly regretted saying yes. She felt bad for George, and somehow, even though they weren’t dating, they had just met for Christ’s sake, she still felt she was letting him down. She thought it best not to dwell on it too much though. 

~~~

Since (y/n) didn’t know where to go, she decided to head to the Lennon’s house, Cynthia being the only girlfriend she had in this time.

Knock, knock.

John opened the door, and gave a wide smirk. 

“Can’t seem to get you away from me, eh?”

Rolling her eyes she simply replied “I was looking for Cynthia.”

“Right. CYN!” he called for his wife.

She came running to the door, a wide grin on her face. 

“That’ll be all John, thank you love.”

He gave her a peck on the cheek and headed inside. 

“So, how may I be of assistance?”

“Uhm, well...I wasn’t sure what to wear, I’m kinda....er...going on a date with George, and I didn’t pack anything nice...”

“Say no more.” she pulled (y/n) into the house, taking her to her walk-in closet. 

She pulled out several things: a shift dress, a blouse and skirt, a beautiful chiffon gown...

“Ah, here it is!”

She finally pulled out a very cute salmon cocktail dress with ruffled straps.

She held it against (y/n)’s body.

“I think it should fit well.” 

“Thank you Cyn.”

“Of course, darling.”

Cynthia headed out of the room, and (y/n) quickly changed into the dress.

Once she had left the room, she found Cyn and John sitting on the sofa, both of them smoking a cig, John reading a book, and Cyn resting her head on his shoulder. (y/n) perceived it as very intimate, and felt bad for intruding. Cynthia seemed to notice her presence in the room and waved a hand for her to come and join them. 

“Would you care for a cuppa?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Cyn pushed the cup and saucer on the coffee table, towards (y/n). 

Soon enough, after 3 cups of tea, and to (y/n)’s dismay, another cigarette, a knock came on the door. John glanced up from his book, at the door.

“Another visitor, ay?”

“That must be George.” (y/n) started to stand up, but Cynthia beckoned her back into her seat. 

“Here, allow me.”

She opened the door. 

“Hello George! Er... and Paul?”

What?!

“Hello Cyn.” (y/n) could recognize that voice from anywhere. 

What the hell is Paul doing here?!

“Well, (y/n) is coming.”

She stood up, legs wavering, slightly. 

When she came to the door, sure enough both George and Paul where standing there waiting to greet her. 

“Uhm, hello...” she muttered awkwardly.

Paul gave her a toothy grin, along with a greeting, George merely mumbled a ‘hi’ and barely glanced her way.

What’s with him?

They escorted her to the car. Paul, gentlemanly, opened the door for (y/n) as George went to the driver’s seat to start the car. She very uncomfortably, had sit in-between the two boys, who took up a lot of space.

This is not what I was thinking. 

Paul tried to initiate some conversation, but she just ended up giving monosyllabic answers, still wondering what his problem was. 

They had gotten to a club, which when they entered was filled with heat, music, and the stench of potent alcohol. 

So much for a nice dinner. 

They sat at the bar, and the bartender asked what they wanted. 

“A brandy for me.” George offered. Then he turned to you, which was the first time he had done so this entire night. But, it was not a look she liked very much “What d’ya want?”

“Er, a bottle of red, please.”

“I’ll have a scotch, ta.” Paul piped up.

George slammed the cash on the wood, making (y/n) jump slightly.

They drank some of their beverages. She never really liked the taste of alcohol, but she supposed that’s all you’d get at a bar. 

Paul once again, tried to start a conversation, whilst George silently nursed his drink. He was quickly becoming very drunk. 

They call it liquid courage for a reason.

Or more like, liquid stupidity. 

George slipped, rather awkwardly, out of his seat, and off to a girl who happened to glance his way several times through the night. 

Right in front of (y/n), he kissed her long and slow, eyes still on his date.

Asshole.

After having a very unnecessarily long make out session, he pulled her into the bathroom. Before the door had fully closed, he sent a smirk her way. Paul had seen the whole escapade as well, and was very annoyed himself.

“I dunno what’s up with him. He come’s to me askin’ if he wants to join ye at the club, and I knew he fancied you the moment he saw you. Now he’s off ter shag some skank.” 

“I don’t know either.” you frowned at the now closed door. You had worshipped George, always adored his style and his voice, his seemingly kind personality, but you guess maybe you didn’t know him well enough. He was, at the moment, being a drunk blockhead, and you lost all the admiration you had once had for him.

Soon enough, they came out the bathroom, recent activities, evident in their faces.  He gave her another kiss, and walked back to where Paul and (y/n) were sitting.

“So, you gonna fuck yet?” he snarled. 

“Excuse me?!” she choked out.

He rolled his eyes at her. “’ts obvious. So why don’t you get it done already?” 

“I have no idea what the hell is up with you, but you’re acting like a ass, and it’s pissing me off.” she glared at him, arms crossed. 

“Yeah, it’s pisses you off? I should be the one who’s pissed off! Leadin’ me on, and then goin off with Paul. If ya didn’t want me, just fuckin’ tell me so!” 

“Well, I certainly don’t want you anymore, George Harrison.” she fumed. And before she knew what she was doing, she pulled Paul’s face to hers. He lips melted into hers and they had a fight for dominance. When, they pulled apart, Paul looked at her with an air of shock, but obvious pleasure and lust in his eyes. George’s mouth dropped open, but then he quickly scowled, and headed towards the entrance.

“I see you’ve made your choice. I hope your happy.” he spat bitterly.

“I hate you George Harrison. I’ve now seen how cruel you really are.”

And with that, she never spoke another word to the man.

~~~

I’m so SO sorry, that took me 5 million years, I’m finally done! Hope you enjoyed. It’s kinda long, so yeah.. anyways, have a good day!

[yourmomswallet]

Hold Onto Your Hat, Cowboy

Around 10 000 words. Make a cup of something, get a nice blanket or fan, and sit your butt down for some Himbo Goodness.

~~~~~~~~

With the midday sun beaming down on you, you can’t help but wear something on your head and eyes. You look like a shady dealer of some sort, walking in the shadows and shade of the streets. You can’t find the bar where the boys decided to meet, even though they said it was right across from the motel. As you search, you stop at the stalls and small stores of the town, just visiting around.

Checking your watch, you see that it’s past the time you’ve agreed to meet the gang, almost a quarter after 7. You curse yourself for getting carried away browsing the town’s shops. Hopefully, a new bracelet or ring will suffice for an apology to each of them. You walk around a bit more to try to find the bar. The bright sun has dimmed down a significant amount, to where you don’t need your sunglasses to make out signs and faces.

Finally, you find the bar. Illuminated by string lights and covered with interesting decorations, you walk into the building. You don’t immediately sit at the table they’re at, but go to the barkeep for a drink. They won’t miss you for just a few more minutes. 

The tall stool feels like heaven to your tired feet. Setting your small satchel down on the bar top, you peel off your hood to reveal your face. The fans blast air into your face, your scalp and skin reveling in the way the breeze makes you feel cooler. You feel eyes staring at you, burning into your head. Looking over, you can see a buff looking man in a cowboy-like hat. His tunic is strange, too, unlike any shirt you’ve seen worn in the area. He must be a foreigner.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Why, yes you can, baby. Yer all alone, and I’d hate to leave someone as pretty as you by yerself.” He has a somewhat charming smile on his face, trying to make you pay more attention to him. To impress you, he leans his arm on the bar and flexes, making sure to seem as natural as possible. You show no signs of being impressed, just a polite smile.

“Well, I’m not alone. Some of my friends are here with me.” You point behind you to your friends. He doesn’t exactly get the message as he assumes you’re accompanied by two women who are dressed like you. He sees the group he’s supposed to be following behind them. What could happen in a few moments without stalking them? Especially with a lovely thing like you as a distraction.

“Would ya mind me buying you a drink then? Anything for a beautiful woman,” he compliments. 

“Hmmm… I’ll take you up on your offer, cowboy,” you say. You’re still suspicious of him, making a note to make sure he doesn’t tamper with your beverage. “Make it a whiskey on the rocks.”

“So ya like ‘em strong, huh?” he asks while getting the barkeep’s attention to order your drink. 

“I’m a big girl,” you inform him.

As he orders, you look behind you to see if your friends are still there. You notice Joseph trying to wave you over. Interestingly enough, he seems impatient about it. His motions are obvious to any onlooker, as his exaggerated movements make him appear to be swatting insects quite feverishly.

“Excuse me, sir. My friend needs me at the moment. I’ll be right back!”

“No problem, baby. I’ll watch yer seat for ya.” He winks at you and you hesitantly smile back. 

Walking to the table, you make sure the peculiar yet oddly charming man isn’t tampering with your drink. You didn’t need ‘being drugged’ added to your list of awful experiences during the adventure. The older man finally stops his swatting and waving to talk to you.

“Who’s that fellow over there?” he whispers. Taking a hint from his voice level, you follow along.

“I have no idea. He offered to get me a drink, so I’m just being nice for the free alcohol. Why? Is he one of Dio’s henchmen or something?” you ask, still watching over your just poured drink.

The broad man takes out a cigarette and lights it, taking a drag before drinking out of his glass. He downs it in one gulp.

It’s Avdol’s turn to warn you about the odd cowboy.

“We have suspicions that he’s been sent by Dio to track us. While you were gone, he seemed to be near every place that we were, constantly.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you pick up on what exactly happened when you were gone. Your mind churns to come with an idea to get information out of the man. As soon as a feasible plan comes into grasp, you make it known to the group and hightail it to the bar as to not seem like you plan on ditching him. Before you can leave, you’re stopped after a few steps.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay? This seems dangerous, and we don’t even know if this man is actually one of Dio’s henchmen. One of us can follow after you,” Kakyoin suggests.

“She’s a grown woman. Just let her go,” Jotaro insists. The man doesn’t look to be much of a threat.

You thank him for concern, but you know none of them would be able to help you out. Besides, your Stand was certainly able to handle whatever the man could throw at you. There’s no other choice other than to take this man head-on.

As you settle back in your seat, you can make out the ice that has slightly melted since you were gone. Unfortunately, your drink is watered down but still bearable. The sting in your throat and chest were enough to distract you from the slight water taste. You feel a bit more comfortable talking to the flirty man after having alcohol in your system.

“So, you never told me your name. Should I call you “stranger” for the rest of the night?” you ask, purposely fluffing your hair back to seem like you care about how you appear to him.

“I suppose I could let you know, but ya better make good on your sayin’ you’ll be with me the entire night,” he states, tapping off his cigarette’s ashes into a tray. Looking your way, meeting your eyes, he takes a drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke into a heart shape. How he did it, you didn’t know. The Crusaders look at each other in disgust at what’s taking place. Silently, they commend you for taking one for the team. For Holy.

You giggle. “Well, if you’ll let me. A big, strong man like you probably has a line up of pretty women just waiting for their turn.” You look away, pretending to be upset. Your hand meets your cheek and your lips pout.

Calloused fingers push your chin up to make you face him. Looking through your eyelashes, you see his cigarette is in the corner of his mouth as he grins at you.

“Sweetheart, Hol Horse always has time for a gal like you,” he winks.

“Oh, stop it. You’re making me blush. There’s no way you could ever find me attractive. I’m just a simple, plain girl.” 

“Nah, none’a that now. A fine lady like yerself should know how beautiful you are,” he says as he points at you. You can’t believe how polite he is. For someone under Dio’s command, he doesn’t seem too bad of a guy. Unless he’s just trying to get into your pants.

“You know, I don’t do this too often, but would you… I dunno, maybe wanna…” you trail off to try to sound coy, wringing your hands. You knew he would be easy to persuade but just in case. Your clothes won’t allow you to do anything suggestive, so you have to rely on something else. A finger tracing your lips, a subtle nudge of the foot against his leg, a come hither gleam in your eyes. He’d be a fool not to pick up on the signs.

“Wh-What is it, baby?” You have his full attention.

“Oh, I’m just making a fool of myself. It was silly of me to think you’d wanna go somewhere more private.”

Hol grabs your hands with his calloused ones. His face seems quite serious.

“Darlin’, don’t tease a man like this. I don’t think ya know just how much I’ve been holdin’ back from askin’ ya the same thing,” he confesses. “Didn’t wanna seem desperate to get to know ya more.”

“Mr. Horse, it’d be my pleasure if you’d join me at my room tonight,” you whisper close to him.

The whole time you flirted with him, you had been inching closer and closer. So had he. At this point, you two are just a few inches from each other’s presence. You can smell the smoke on him, even after he’s put out his cig. His musky scent is accompanied by an earthy smell. He smells like man. Not that you really mind. Blue eyes and blonde hair with a side of stupid. Exactly how you like them.

“Lead the way, baby. I’ll follow you wherever ya like.”

As you get up out of the seat and smooth out your clothes, Hol pays for the drinks by setting a few bills on the bar. You make eye contact with the Crusaders and nod. Everything was under control so far.

“My motel room isn’t too far away. We don’t need a cab.”

Hol follows your lead. Trekking up the stairs and down the halls, you finally find your small room. Thank goodness you got a separate room this time. You didn’t want to have to explain why you had men’s underwear on your floor or men’s cologne in the air.

Unlocking the door is quick, and so is slipping inside. Right as he steps in, you shove him onto your newly made bed. His audible response makes you laugh. You rid your outer garment that guarded your body against the sun. You can feel his eyes on you as you strip. Smiling, you inform him that he can make himself comfortable as you visit the bathroom.

The bathroom pauses your act. Or could you even call it an act now? You’re enjoying yourself now. It has been a while since you’ve gotten a little love from another touch. Maybe you can enjoy Hol’s presence and also get some information out of him. Grinning, you look at yourself in the small mirror provided on the wall. You make sure your appearance is okay. Breath, hair, smell? You have everything covered. Looking underneath your clothes, you make sure you’re ready to have a little fun.

Hol also makes sure he’s ready to romp around with you while you’re in the other room. He knows he should be watching those five, but Dio would just have to wait. There’s no way he’s missing out on this. Looking around the room, he sees your suitcase and toiletry bag. Does he dare sneak? Hol takes another look towards the bathroom door and decides he has enough time.

Carefully, he opens up the unzipped flap and examines what you’ve brought. In neat rows, he sees shirts and pants folded up into small squares. Nothing juicy. Searching a bit more seems dangerous, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take. He unzips a small compartment on the side of the case with no results. Just some socks. Huffing, he tries another. Again, just some underwear. Boring and plain. 

He’s interrupted by the bathroom door opening. You appear, face morphing into confusion. He looks like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“What exactly do you think you’re doing, naughty boy?”

He laughs nervously while trying to explain himself coherently. After many stutters and random filler noises, you stop him. 

“If you wanted to see my underwear, all you have to do is ask,” you state like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Still nervous and shaken up from getting caught, his confident self seems to be a bit embarrassed. Were you serious?

“Umm- heh. C-Could I perhaps see your, uh, underwear, baby?” He sounds unsure of what you’ll say. His hand reaches behind his neck while he stands there, hand still holding onto some white panties. He throws them to the side when he realizes this, and you chuckle at his antics.

“I don’t think you really deserve it now. Do you?” Your eyebrows lift, challenging him to say otherwise.

Slowly walking towards him, you grab the underwear out of his hands. Hands run up his solid chest to his shirt collar. He’s pulled down to your height in one tug. 

“Baby, I’ll take whatever you’ll give me,” he says breathlessly. You’ve got him hooked and haven’t even given him a taste. Your smile is a bit more sinister than before. Hol doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into. 

Fingernails scratching his neck lightly, you purr in his ears which in turn makes him shiver. The quiet room makes your words amplify. His face runs hot as you hold his cheeks. Holding his breath, he waits for your response. You bring his mouth close to yours and warn him.

“I hope you’re ready to work for it.”

Speechless, Hol is tossed back onto the bed. You waste no time pushing him against the headboard and straddling him. His hands find your hips and grip hard, most likely leaving bruises for tomorrow. You don’t mind. He’s surprised as you grab his neck and pull him up, breathing heavily from being tossed around. Noses meet and you smile again, this time in a more playful manner. Gentle kisses are placed on his neck and jaw, licks peppered in between sucking. Hol’s groans make you hum in satisfaction, happy that you’re making him feel like this. You’re too absorbed into marking him up as yours to notice that he’s reached up your shirt until you feel rough fingers tickling your sides. Immediately, your hands push him away.

“Did I say you could do that?” you ask as you trace your fingertips across his chest and arms.

Feathery touches of your lips on his ears make him gasp and grip the sheets of the bed. The blood in his body has left to one central point, but his body is still sensitive to your touch. Extremely sensitive. He’s never felt like this before, even with his level of experience. Every touch has lit a fire underneath his skin, flames spreading slowly as your fingers and lips mark every inch of exposed skin. Was this just the effect of being with you? Perhaps it was just the heat of the moment.

Little does Hol know, your Stand is the culprit behind the intense feelings. If your body fluids touch his body, his nerves’ and cells' reactions to any stimulant would increase. If you were to hit him now, the pain would feel a 100th more painful than it actually is. As long as you make sure to leave some type of fluid on him at all times, his body will be high off your Stand.

He’s starting to feel the scratch of the cloth of his shirt and pants. His brain tells him to take it off immediately, the burning starting to get hotter. You smirk at his sudden need to strip.

“Be a gentleman and give me a show, won’t you?” you ask him, aware that he’s desperate to get the fabric off his body, but not to the point where he’ll do absolutely anything to disrobe.

“O-Of course. Anythin’ fer- AAH!” He’s cut off by your nails scraping up his abs and obliques. “Anything fer you, sweetheart.” Practically panting by now, he struggles to keep his cool and strips slowly, one article at a time.

“That’s a good boy,” you praise him, helping him by taking his hat and placing it on your head. The moan that leaves him is a mixture from the sting from the friction of skin and cloth and the approval from you.

You sit back on his shins and watch him scoot up the headboard. First his shirt. His face contorts into a pained grimace, hands grabbing for his shirt hem to pull up and over his head. He can’t handle the sensitivity of his skin making contact with the shirt and keeps losing grasp of the thick fabric. You grin at his little misfortune but stay put, wanting to see how long he can keep going before caving in to ask for assistance. A noticeable bulge displays itself in his pants. You control yourself before you try to paw at it, but your mouth still salivates a bit just looking at it.

His hands take their time in lifting the shirt up. As they rise up, you get a better view to gawk at his bulky muscles and body hair. Dirty blonde hair dusted his chest and stomach, as well as freckles. Not too much, not too little. You lean forward and tug on a small patch, which makes him gasp for air. Assuming it’s real pain, you smooth out the hair and massage the area. His pained expression changes into one of relief. You take the shirt out of his hands and toss it behind you with the hat.

By now, he’s realized you won’t give him a chance to show his dominance. But he’s fine with being thrown about for a night. All the ladies he’s been with before assumed he was in charge when it came to the dirty act, or they were too shy to try to take control. You’re different. He trusts you enough to let you push and pull him around wherever you want. He’d never see you after this, so what’s wrong with taking a chance for just one night? A gentleman does what he can to please his lady. If that be taking every single slap or bite, so be it.

“P-Please, help me. These clothes is just- ah, burnin’ me up.”

Fingers play with his body hair a little longer before you respond with a smile. His incoherent speech is a sign he’s close to the full experience, but that just might be his way of speaking.

“I suppose I can help you out, just this once. But you’ll have to do something for me in return. Is that something you can handle?” Your head tilts in curiosity. Hopefully, he’s close to the point of no return, where his body can’t handle anything other than a light puff of air on his skin.

“Ahhh… promise. Wh-Whatever ya want, I’ll do it. Just get me outta these things,” Hol begs.

Sliding his pants down, you can see he’s wearing a pair of boxer-briefs. You can also see what is underneath them.

‘Just wait a little longer,’ you remind yourself.

Hol moans as your nails press into his thick thighs when you push down his pants to his knees. You move to the left side of him and pull down the garment farther, finally off his body. Both you and he are happy to have nothing on his body, except for the pair of underwear. Tossing his pants to the side, you take a glance at his face. Eyes are glazed over with tears and lust, face blushed. You can’t wait to see his face after his fifth orgasm, hoping for drool and nothing behind his eyes but lust. You’re going to milk him for all he’s worth. 

Hol doesn’t understand the sudden giggle from you as you stare at him. ‘Did I do something funny? What- Oooohhh fuuuuuck that feels gooood.’

Gentle touches on the tip of his cock through his underwear make him grip the sheets around him. A single stroke of your finger makes him shake profusely. That’s what he’s been yearning for from the beginning of your teasing. Oh, it feels like heaven with the current use of your Stand. He doesn’t understand why he’s shaking, but he knows he doesn’t want it to stop.

“P-p-please… d-don’t stoooooop,” he slurs.

He has to stop himself from not lolling his tongue out as he begs. But it’s your personal goal to make him feel like he has no self-control over his body. You’re going to pleasure him to the point of no return, to where he physically can‘t see or feel anything but pure pleasure. He’s never felt like this before. He feels close to coming already.

“Remember, you still owe me a favour,” you remind him. His sluggish nods speed up as he realizes what you’re saying. “I need you to tell me when you’re going to come, all right? Be a good boy. Can you do that for me?” you ask him. You know he won’t be able to handle much, but you really want to push him to his limit. Would it really be that terrible of you to make him explode, just once?

“Y-yeah, can do,” he responds.

He’s unsure if he can hold his release back until you tell him otherwise. The feeling of your gentle caresses on his dick makes his body go crazy. Hol doesn’t know how many more strokes it will take before actually blowing up. His balls feel full, stuffed, his dick red and almost sore. You take your hand and cup it, stroking along the the cock’s underside and pushing it against his abs. The wet fabric on top also moves. 

“I’m gonna-”

Hol is cut off by you kissing him. You straddle his lap again, making sure to press down with your hips into his. 

“Don’t you dare.”

Gasps and moans make their way into your grinning mouth. He’s still being good for you, as his hands haven’t left the sheets still. He wants- no needs to touch you, but he’s scared you’ll move or tie him up. He feels an oncoming orgasm, and you pushing yourself closer to his clothed member and harder into the kiss isn’t helping his case. Your combined sounds fill the room. The moonlight and lamplight illuminate your features, making you look like an angel when you pull away. He can’t believe you’re real. You peck his open mouth once more before stroking his chest.

His nipples are sensitive, you already know that. What you don’t know is how much you can press and pull and suck on them before he’s coming through his thin underwear. Licking and sucking them, one after another, his nipples are swollen and puffy. Hol watches the top of your head in disbelief. He’s never been this taken care of during foreplay. Your tongue keeps flicking around his nipples and alternates between licking fat stripes on and swirling around the nubs. You build up and add your saliva to his skin to make stimulation stronger. As you pull away from his chest, the saliva moves with your mouth. You lick around your lips and the strings break off. Hol finds this scene too much for his overstimulated mind to handle and moans in response. 

You can’t seem to take your eyes off his precum slicked cock. His cheeks are a little flushed as you rub your pointer finger against the tip. As you pull away from it, a little string of pre follows. The loud sounds come from him to let you know that he’s sensitive and ready. A smile appears on your face.

“You don’t mind if I have a taste, do you?” you ask innocently like you don’t know what kind of effect you have on him already. Of course, you know how he’s feeling. Desperate and needy for just about anything you’re willing to give him. His face flushes a deeper red, his freckles standing out. 

“Everything I got, you can have.” If you put that precum covered finger in your mouth, he swears he’ll blow his load right then and there. “Just let me see ya do it, baby. Please.”

“Of course, Hol.” You smile at how he moans from just hearing his name come out of your mouth.. 

Your finger swipes the precum on your tongue and you lean in to show him. He looks like he’s about to cry out of pleasure from just seeing the erotic scene of his essence in your mouth. You’ll never know what exactly makes men want to cream themselves from seeing that. His eyes widen as you lean in even further, your tongue stroking his slightly chapped lips. His body takes this as a sign to open his mouth, unconsciously doing so. He’s never tasted himself like this, but it’s a pleasant experience. Sharing his own pre is kind of hot, in his opinion. The taste isn’t so hot. 

As you share precum and an open mouth kiss, Hol starts to stick his own tongue out. Saliva swapping has never been so erotic in his life. Your body is like an aphrodisiac, an oasis in the middle of the hot desert. He needs more. He feels your fingers stroking and petting his chest, and in turn, his nipples. They’re solid and stiff, sensitive to the touch. He can’t hold in his moans that are caused by your touch. Your sucking on his tongue makes him feel even more sensitive. The more saliva you’re feeding him, the more he can feel everything you’re doing to him on a molecular level. He can’t complain, as you have his tongue in your mouth. Even if you didn’t, he wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world. 

Hol knows he should feel embarrassed by what’s taking place, but his body won’t let him resist one bit. His pride hasn’t been destroyed, it’s his self-control. There’s no way in hell he could ever let you leave now.

The strokes on his chest turn into pinches, with each touch excruciatingly painful and the aftermath tingly. Your mouth pulls away from his, unfortunately. You gently blow on his chest, his nipples somehow getting perkier and stiffer than you could have imagined. The burly man that sits beneath you whines loudly while his tongue struggles to be put back into his mouth. His hands drunkenly reach out to grab yours as you move to his chest. 

“Be a good boy and keep your hands on the rail for me,” you instruct. Slowly and reluctantly, he grips the metal pole behind him with a whine.

Never before has Hol Horse followed directions so eagerly.

Lips take their time sucking hard on his neck, behind his ears, and collarbone. Your tongue flickers out occasionally to trace the purple marks forming as you make your way down. His whole neck and shoulders are covered in purple, shiny bruises. You smile and stroke his chest with your fingers, adding the slightest scratch just to hear his loud noises again. The press of his dick against his boxer-briefs makes him cry out in frustration. His eyes haven’t left your body since you parted ways with his tongue and lips. He misses your constant touch, and more importantly, your saliva oddly enough. Hol can’t place his finger on why he craves your bodily fluids incessantly, but his brain is hazed over with lust that he doesn’t dwell on it.

Your lips end up with his stiff right nipple in between them. The little moans that come from your wet tongue stroking and circling it make you smile with sadistic glee. He can’t see your face because of his closed eyes. Because of the pleasure, he’s retired all of his senses besides touch. His body can’t be bothered to comprehend any other stimuli that aren’t your fluttering fingers and the suckle of your lips on his teets. Sudden bites on his pecs and hard nubs make his pain rise, but his pleasure outweighs the pain via your immediate kisses and licks on the areas. He doesn’t know how much he can take at this point. Hol is worried he might just blow his load by chest stimulation alone. If you were to touch his throbbing dick with the lightest poke, he’d explode. His mouth is unable to warn you of his inevitable outcome, but you glean from his shaking legs and ongoing moans that he’s close.

Your legs move to the left side of him on the bed. His eyes open and watch you move, everything in slow motion. The bed dips as you slip off the covers. Looking back at him from the front of the bed, you warn him.

“If I see those hands move, I’ll have to add 3 more orgasms to your punishment.”

Hol would love that. The lack of release is showing on his blue underwear, precum making the fabric wet and slick and shiny. What he wouldn’t do for many, many releases. That’s what he thinks at least. His hands still grip the metal pole to satisfy you. You smile at his obedience. If he keeps this up, you might have to keep him around for the rest of the trip.

Pushing your pants down, your smooth skin and lace panties are put on display for him. He groans at the sight, and the sound makes you look at him from over your shoulder. Your bedroom eyes draw his attention from your bottom. There’s no possible way you could be this seductive. How were you single?

Hair in your face, lips plump from making out and sucking, cheeks flush from the many erotic touches you’ve given him; he can’t take it. Whines fall out of his mouth, as he’s unable to warn you of what’s about to happen.

“Ah- I’m about to-” he’s cut off by you.

“5 orgasms if you come. I’d suggest not doing it.”

Your stripping continues without looking at him as he struggles to keep it all in. His cock looks like a fountain by now. The semi-white, thick fluid runs out of his tip uncontrollably. A pained expression tells you he’s trying his hardest. You pull your shirt off and throw it in the corner where his clothes are. What you’re left in is a lacy black bra and panty set. Simple yet seductive. It seems to please Hol well enough, as he groans in what sounds like pain at the sight of you. You can’t possibly expect him not to come now.

You crawl up his legs and stop at his crotch. Your head is level with his cock now. The look you give him is pure sin as you seize him and feel his throbbing through the thin fabric. He takes a deep breath in. Your hand’s wet from the pre that’s leaked out, but that doesn’t faze you. One hand strokes his member through the underwear and the other latches onto his plump testes. You can just feel the cum that’s begging to be released.

Fondling his balls makes Hol moan in anguish. Your touch is firey and scorches his skin. His resolve is slipping as your hands tighten around both his balls and cock. This time he will definitely come, he thinks. He doesn’t care what type of punishment he’ll face, his brain and body are forcing him to release now.

A thick, white liquid squirts out through the fabric, pouring out onto your hand. You smirk at how he yells and moans while his dick throbs and twitches harder than ever before. His legs are shaking and his hands are about to snap the metal in half. You can’t force your eyes to look away from the disappointing scene in your hands. His cum has made its way up to your arms and his torso. Chest and stomach hair mix with semen to create a sticky sheen. He slowly and tiredly peers up at you through his lashes, sweat covering his forehead and temples. Your saliva is still there from the start of the decent. His eyes meet your disappointed ones.

‘It was worth it,’ he tries to convince himself.

You take your hand that’s covered in cum and lick off the fluids. He breathes in quickly. Hie wishes you were doing that to his cock. He needs your constant touch on his skin. 

‘Oh yes, this was worth it.’

“You bad, bad boy. What should I do with a misbehaved boy like you? Any suggestions?”

You pretend to let him give you ideas. You’ve had this punishment in mind since the beginning.

He nervously chuckles. “How a-about you let me off with a warnin’? Swear I was tryin’ to hold it in.”

“Wish it were that easy. But now your punishment is worse than before,” you inform him as you play with the wet chest hair and happy trail, licking off your fingers as you go. “You’re going to wish you had waited.”

You direct him to lay down all the way. His head rests on the pillow as you crawl on your knees to straddle his head. His body is vibrating from the excitement of tasting you. He’s been craving this for so long. His tongue sticks out as you stick your fingers in his mouth, swirling to get them wet.

“Tell me what you want and I might just allow it before your penalty.”

“Please. Just a little taste- wait. I don’t know your- mmmmpppphhh!” Hol is cut short by your setting your covered wet core on his face. 

The huge whiff he takes is fresh air to his senses. He feels at peace. His hands are still on the headboard’s bar. He hasn’t disobeyed completely, but he wants to feel your delicate skin. To have his hands imprint red and purple on your ass and thighs, to manually force your hips and pussy to gyrate on his face, that’s all he could ask for.

Hol’s tongue sticks out to press into the thin gusset of your panties and tastes the musky essence that has spread through the lace. He can’t get enough of the smell. His head presses closer and closer to your soaked panties, but you pull away each time he moves. You laugh as his head falls back to the pillow in frustration.

“I don’t think a name is needed if you just call me Mistress. Can my bad boy do that correctly?” you ask. Your nails scrape his scalp and he moans. Hol obviously needs to taste you again for the effect to be stronger, and you’re more than willing to let him. Your hand grips his hair as you await an answer, making him whine in pain. “Answer me, slut.”

“Y-yes! Yes, M-Mistress. I can do that. Anythin’ fer you.” He loves the name you give him. 

Hands pet his hair. Exactly what you want to hear.

“Tell me what you need, Hol.”

“I-I need your p-pussy on my face. I wanna taste ya, smell yer cunt and lick it like it’s ma last meal. Use me, Mistress. I just want to please you. I need yer touch, can’t live without it,” he confesses, breathless and sweaty.

You smile at his word throw up. You’re enjoying this far too much, but this is the most fun you’ve had in a while. The desert isn’t exactly the prime location for finding lovers. Your little slut is exactly what you need to release your frustration and quench your thirst. 

“Good boy.”

Your panties are wet but become wetter as Hol’s mouth, lips, and tongue work them to get to your core. His tongue traces your clit, feeling the pulse of it as he swirls around the nub. With your hands still locked into his hair, you hold his head in place as you grind. His nose is pressed into your clothed clit as his tongue presses against the covered opening and lips of your cunt. He can’t get enough of the taste, wanting, needing the underwear out of the way to be fully connected with you. His moans and attempts to tell you what he needs are muffled. The vibrations feel like heaven on your pussy. 

“What could it possibly be now? I’ve let you come, and now it’s my turn. A gentleman would have let me come first, but it seems you’re just an inexperienced slut with how you blew your load so quickly.” Your words sting. He wants to protest, but his body won’t let him. He’s a good boy. An obedient slut. With your pussy on his mouth, he finds it difficult to speak. You move away from him as he groans at the loss. 

“Need yer panties gone, Mistress. I can’t taste you good enough,” he pleads.

“My little boy wants more? Hmm?”

“Ah, y-yes please, Mistress. I need yer cunt. I promise I’m a good boy. I’ll lick ya real good. I’ll make you come as many times as you like.” He begs loudly with no thought of lowering his voice. He can’t even think about his own pleasure anymore. “I wanna be yer good boy, yer good slut.”

You hook your thumbs on the sides, shimmying the lacy thing down to your thighs and coming out of them. You don’t dispose of them right then; instead, putting them to his nose and mouth. He sniffs them and closes his eyes in pleasure. No words can describe how delectable you smell.

“You’re such a dirty boy, you know that? Sniffing and panting into my slicked up panties. It just gets you so worked up, huh slut?” You smirk at his nodding head, underwear still sitting on his face.

“Yes, Mistress. I’m a dirty boy. Yer dirty boy. Ain’t this horny fer nobody else. I love yer cunt.”

“Oh you do? You haven’t even tasted it yet,” you reply haughtily.

You push the panties closer to his nose as he takes a deep breath before speaking. His eyes are rolling into the back of his head. 

“Don’t need ta. L-Love everythin’ about ya.”

“You really do want a taste. All right. Get ready, needy slut.”

His mouth eagerly meets your wet slit. His tongue pokes out to stroke your folds in heated passion. Your moans and grip on his hair fuel his movements further. He revels in the way you gasp when he sucks and nibbles on your clit, or when you roll your hips into his face as he tongue fucks you every so often. Your pussy seems to draw his tongue in deeper, making him moan. With the underwear on his face, he can’t see what you look like in this position exactly, making him more than a little frustrated. His groans express his dissatisfaction with the view, but he moans at the taste and scent of you without the panties in the way. Looking behind you, you’re satisfied with the effect you have on him and his cock. His hips thrust into nothing, cock and balls bouncing in tandem.

As he works on your cunt and clit, you get closer and closer to coming undone. The vibrations on your clit make you moan and shake. You pet his hair as you feel your orgasm coming to you in a wave of intense pleasure. Your instinct is to press closer to the thing making you come, Hol being forced to swallow everything you give him, not that he’s complaining. He sucks and licks even more than before. His hands want to move to make you grind down harder into his face. He needs you as close as possible. 

“O-Oh fuck! Y-Yes, that’s a good slut. Mmmm you’re so needy for my sopping wet pussy. Don’t miss a drop.”

Your orgasm tastes even better than your saliva if that’s even possible. Even though it was you who came, his body feels white hot from the experience. He can’t feel his mouth anymore, or his tongue. Your cunt’s fluid tastes amazing, especially after your complete release. He wants more, coaxing another orgasm by flicking your clit incessantly right after you had just come. He needs more.

“I-If you keep- oh yeeeeesssss…” you trail off from the pure pleasure he’s giving you. “Keep that up. I might be more lenient on you.”

“Yeth, Mithwess,” Hol mumbles against you.

You grind your pussy against his face even harder, pressing his head in between your thighs more than he thought possible. He wants- no needs to get closer to you. Your body shakes stronger than before, making Hol happy to his surprise. He needs to please you until you’re satisfied. He needs to be called “good boy.” His tongue strokes are faster and more forceful. He tries to stimulate your clitoris as much as possible while licking your slit. He’s desperate for your cum. He needs you to come on his face. Now.

You scream out in pleasure as your cunt pulsates and squirts. Your juices cover his face and the panties. White is all you can see. Your hands grab one of his hands in an attempt to not lose balance. Pulling his fingers off the bar, you stuff them in your mouth and suck on them, swirling your tongue around the calloused tips and salivating. He feels every little movement of your mouth, from the suck of your lips to the light nibble of your teeth. Drool runs down his arm and he can’t stop the sounds that vibrate on your pussy. You keep squirting as his tongue rolls over your clit over and over again, pulling you down from the orgasm. When your sight comes back, you release his hand and turn around to move down. He moans out and bucks his hips up again and again and again. He’s stiff and red, ready to go again. Perfect.

Out of breath, you tell him, “You were such a good little slut. If you’re still good after edging, I’ll let your punishment go. But if you come without permission again, I’ll make it hurt.”

He seems to like what you’ve said, shivering in anticipation of what’s to come.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

You take your time moving back towards his throbbing dick, wobbling and unstable from two intense orgasms. You feel energized from being worshipped like that. Newfound confidence exudes from you as you shuffle to the end of the bed. Looking at Hol, you see the underwear is still blocking his view. You have some mercy on him.

“You can take those panties off, just put them in your mouth. And if you do anything with those hands other than grip the sheets or headboard, I’ll have no choice but to restrain you. You don’t want that, do you?”

He’s eager to answer you, already moving his numb arms to remove the panties.

“Of course. Anything you want, Mistress. Just let me please ya. I’m beggin’.”

Humming contently, you take his cock in your mouth and keep humming. Hol bucks into you, unable to control what he’s doing. He moans loudly, which makes you look up. You notice he’s forgotten to put the lacy drawers in his mouth and release his dick from the confines of your hot, wet mouth. Smirking at him, you snatch the panties away from his strong grip and forcefully stuff them in his mouth. He’s surprised as you do so, gasping from the sudden movements.

“You just can’t follow directions, dumb whore. You’re not going to get to come now.”

He spits out the wet fabric at the statement. 

“N-NO! I-I-I mean, please, Mistress. I didn’t- I just forgot! Yer touch is just too good.”

“If my touch is too good for you, you don’t need it then,” you state, knowing good and well that’s not what he meant. You take the panties from him.

“Mistress, that ain’t what I meant. I need you. You know that. Please, I need you,” he pleads. “I need yer touch, yer pussy, anything you got fer me. I’ll do anything!”

“Prove it. Since you need me so much, stroke yourself with my panties and don’t come.”

Your challenge makes him look hopeless. Of course, he’s going to come if he masturbates in front of you. You smirk at how sad he looks at the black lace.

“Any complaints? I think I’m being fair.”

“No! No complaints here, baby- OW!”

You swat his cock quickly. It wobbles while still standing up. Your slap wasn’t that hard, just a warning tap. 

“That’s not my name.”

“Of course, Mistress. I m-meant to say, ‘No complaints, Mistress.’”

“That’s what I thought. Sit up. Get to stroking, whore. I’m going to get comfortable.”

He gets situated on the bed with his back on the headboard. With the amount of precum he’s leaked, he has plenty to keep him going without any issues. His left-hand goes to fondle his balls as his right one starts pumping slowly. He takes his time as he grabs the panties to rub himself with. Your cum has made his body’s senses heighten even more than before. Every little stroke makes him moan out, the scratch from the lace on his sensitive head and shaft affecting his whole body. You watch him shake and moan, indulging in how torturous this is for him. Precum spills out of his tip and onto the panties. 

You can’t stop from touching yourself, the scene igniting something new inside of you. Your fingers reach inside your pussy and your thumb circles around your sensitive clit. Hol can hear your gasps and moans and wet slapping sounds. He’s treated to the sight of you plunging your fingers in yourself. You work in tandem, Hol stroking his hard cock as you push into your wet cunt. You smile at him and bite your lip as you press against a certain spot. Your head falls back and he groans at the sight. 

“Don’t come, pretty boy. I need you ready to burst when I fuck you.”

His hand speeds up and grips his balls harder. He’s about to come. He needs to come. But you won’t let him. With your attention on your orgasm, he could get away with coming quickly in the panties, but the consequences of being caught exceed the benefits of secretly coming. He slows down to keep from making you mad. Your eyes find his again, lust shining through your gaze. You bite down hard on your lip as you come for the third time. Your pussy pulsates from how much pleasure you’ve introduced it to. The cum runs out of your slit slowly. You shake as you come down from your high.

“Keep stroking. Don’t stop,” you command him. He nods, speeding up his motions.

You take your fingers that are covered with your essence and stick them in his mouth. He needs no instruction to start suckling on the digits. He loves the taste. He craves your pussy.

Taking your fingers out of his mouth, you settle behind him, making him scoot farther from the headboard. He doesn’t know what you’re doing, too distracted from trying not to come. You sit with your legs spread behind him. Your arms hug his torso and stroke his still cum-ridden chest in circles. The extra stimulation makes it harder for him to focus. Your hands run up and down, stopping to play with his still hard nipples. His back is sensitive when you press up against it with your lacy bra and plush breasts. Your arms come up to hold his head and push it towards yours. His mouth meets yours again for an open mouth kiss. Your tongue is the first to initiate contact with his, making him moan more. You love how vocal he is. His hand never stops moving as you watch him out of the corner of your eye. The way his arms’ muscles move is hypnotizing. Your tongues never stop dancing around each other while you’re distracted by his movements. He hasn’t come yet, making you quite happy. You might just get to come again with his cum in you. 

You decide to up the ante.

“Give me the panties.” Panties are handed to you. 

“Now wrap your arms over my thighs.” Thick, warm arms are draped over your thighs and wrap underneath them. 

“Now what are you not allowed to do?”

“Come.”

“Good boy.”

Your hand wraps the panties around his reddish head, twisting them around to torture him more. His head flies back to your left shoulder, as your head is perched on his right. You can see all of him. The slight pooch of his freckled stomach makes you smile a little more, especially with his little whines in your ears now. He couldn’t get more adorable than this. 

You show your appreciation and affection with kisses and licks to his neck. His head leans back farther, exposing his throat, where you add more hickies. The strokes on his throbbing member increase in speed and pressure. You squeeze Hol hard to draw out any sounds that might escape.

“Don't hold back your voice. I want to hear every single little sound you make, baby.”

This eggs him on to be louder. At this time of night, it’s hard to tell if any neighbors are awake. Surely, you’ll have complaints tomorrow morning.

The black lace is starting to get absolutely soaked from just Hol’s precum. You should have just stroked him with your hand and spit, but this added a new sensation. His dick twitches without stopping. His balls seem to tighten even more. He’s going to come. 

You pull away from his mouth and dick and ask him quietly, “Do you want to come again?” He nods. You look at him pointedly like he knows better. 

“Y-Yes, please. I need it so bad. My cock’s just achin’ fer yer touch, Mistress.”

Pretending to be in thought, you ask him, “But do you need to come again?”

“Whatever you think is best for your s-slut, Mistress.” 

You’re happy with his response. 

“Sit up, then. And throw that wet thing over there.”

Hol sits up upon command and flings the wet panties in the corner with an expectant grin on his face. You move around to his front and sit on his thighs. His muscles are thick enough for you get off from them, but you want something completely different.

You take your bra off, revealing your breasts to him. He groans, letting you know he likes what he sees. You smirk at his sounds and love how he isn’t shy about being vocal. You grab your tits and rub them together, flicking your nipples and moaning at the feeling. His hands come to rest on your hips, but you glare at him. His hands get the message and go back to the sheets. 

His cock is pressed up against his stomach. The ruddy head and shaft look to be in pain, with pleasure needing to be released. Hol’s dick is thick and uncut, a blonde patch of hair framing his privates. You pet the pubic patch and grab onto his balls. His gasp is swallowed by your mouth. He loves how you taste. He needs you wrapped around him right now, though. He battles your mouth for dominance as you stroke and fondle him slowly. His sounds are muffled as you make out with him sloppily.

You start to take his cock and push the head near your entrance to tease him. The head brushes against your clit and down your slit. He can’t take it. The feeling of your hot, dripping cunt this close to his equally hot and dripping member almost makes him subject to punishment. Your hand tightens around his thick shaft, which makes him whine. Rubbing your pussy up and down with the engorged head, you move your hand up to squeeze right below his head to keep him from releasing. He groans at the contact with your wet lips and clit. He loves the velvety feeling of your cunt, soaked with his precum and your previous orgasms. Your sounds that follow make him whine. He’s the one that’s making you feel good. He’s the one who’s making you come. 

Your hand lets his dick go and his body complains from the lack of contact. You stick your fingers that we’re just wrapped around his slick cock into his mouth. Hol doesn’t refuse your hand, instead, welcoming it with his tongue. In return, you press your cunt to his upright dick to tease him. 

“Mmmm, that’s my good slut.”

He mumbles a thank you as best he can. Laughing, you pull your fingers out and stick them into your mouth. You lick every single finger individually to make a show for him. A smile grows on your face when you hear him moan out from a particularly strong grind of your hips. Your wet, saliva drenched fingers move between your body and his, right to his cock head. Your hand is somehow cold and makes the liquids that are now touching his hot member cold, too. He shivers at the difference in temperature. His pleasure filled haze is interrupted by your voice. 

“Whose cock is this?”

Hol is confused, taken aback by the sudden loaded question. It is still his penis. It’s attached to him! But are you asking who’s in control of it? What do- sssshit!

A hand is pressed to his throat, not tight enough to hurt him, but enough to warn him to hurry up and answer. 

“Y-Yers, Mistress. My co- uh I-I mean yer cock belongs to ya. I love what you do to it, makes me feel so-OOO FUCK!”

Hol screams out from you pushing his dick into your hot core. He can’t possibly take anything else that you could put him through. His throat is still constricted by your hand, cutting off his airways enough for him to panic. The fear that runs through his blood elevates his senses, with every stroke from your hot core making him convulse with pleasure. Feet and hands almost tear the sheets into pieces with the intensity that he grabs at them. Hol can’t comprehend what’s happening to his body. His breath catches in his throat, sputtering to get a word, a sentence, anything out. As you moan and praise him, you realize he’s frozen in fear and pleasure.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first whore I’ve choked.”

Hol thinks that, somehow, your words were meant to be reassuring.

Constant pressure is applied as your body alternates between grinding, thrusting, and straight pounding into him. A solid man like him can take it. Your brain is interrupted by the original intention of this interaction. Get information on Dio. 

You slow your roll and scratch his sensitive neck, hard enough to snap him out of his lust ridden trance. He looks desperate for you to start moving, thrusting into you slightly to tell you to start again. Hol sees a smile on your face, too sweet to be up to anything good. If he’s learned anything from being teased by you, it’s that you’re not to be taken lightly. You can change your mind in an instant with no regard to his wants. But he loves how exciting it is to test your waters, to watch you, to taste you.

“Who is Dio to you?” you ask him, breath tickling his ear.

His response isn’t immediate. Hol looks surprised to be asked about his boss in this setting. Were you sent by Dio to check on him? Or were you with that ragtag team out to destroy Dio? He tries to get information on you before telling you his true relations to the vampire.

“Wh-What’s he ta you?” he replies without thinking.

Your hips snap and your hands reach out to choke him again, this time harder than before.

“You’re in no position to question my loyalty to Lord Dio.” You feel the bile crawling up your throat from siding with Dio, even in the context you’re saying it in. The Crusaders own you. You’re talking your own room each motel visit, free dessert, first dibs on shotgun. 

“O-Of course! Why would I say somethin’ s-stupid like that? I was just, uh, jokin’ with ya. I’m loyal to Dio, too,” he stutters out. His tone isn’t too convincing.

“Then why are you here? You should be watching those fucking Joestars. Or did you forget your place?” Your tone is sharp, warning him not to play around. His throat is turning redder by the second, your hands’ grip not loosening up at any moment.

“Y-Ya can’t expect me to not f-f- FUCK!” A squeeze. “T-To follow you! You’re gorgeous, Mistress!” A finger traces his jugular. Finally, no choking. Not that he hates it, he loves anything that you’ll do to him, he’s just never been choked in this context.

“You’re weak, slut. I shouldn’t even let you come, nevermind come in me.” You have him by the balls with that.

“No! Please. I promise I’ll be on their trail in a hot minute. Just let me come in ya,” he begs, his hands ready to be in a praying position. Hol knows he hasn’t a chance to convince you. His eyes close in defeat.

“Tell me what you know about him. I’ve yet to personally speak to him.”

He starts to speak but is cut off by you thrusting again. His mouth opens with no words coming out. What was he supposed to be doing?

“Speak now. Or will I have to force you?”

At that, Hol starts to jabber about everything he knows about Dio. He can’t exactly stop his mouth from moving because he’s concerned about you stopping. His body is completely hooked on your touch. He needs you.

Nodding along with his words, you keep bouncing. The slap of skin on skin is music to his ears as he rambles to you. As long as he keeps talking, you’ll keep moving. At some point, he mentions how shredded Dio is. That Dio has an 8 pack now.

You can’t listen to another word about Dio this and Dio that mixed in with occasional moans. You bring Hol’s mouth towards yours to shut him up. The taste of your mouth is addictive, his body shivering at the touch. He can’t get enough of you. The thought of coming inside of you, your cum mixing with his, has him shaking and convulsing even more. His toes curl, his fingers are restless. You can sense it when his thighs flex up into yours.

“You’ve been a good slut. I suppose you can come. But you’re cleaning whatever you spill.”

His body gives out on him as his cock spurts out rope after rope into you. Hol can’t lift a finger, much less open his eyes to see your breasts bouncing up and down with you. At some point in the haze, your hand moved in between your bodies to play with your clit. You’ll make sure he repays you for his little mess.

As his body relaxes and comes down from the high, he can finally see again. His sight doesn’t last a minute before it’s overcome by the creampie he’s given you. His eyes widen at the thought of having to eat his own cum. Hol is entranced by your sopping core, oozing with his semen, as your fingers scoop some up and into his mouth. He can’t believe he’s doing this. A few more scoops are forced in before you completely smother his mouth. His tongue is instantly on your cunt, licking and sucking up the liquid inside. 

“You got to stuff me full. Wasn’t that kind of me? I think you need to pay me back. What do you think, slut?” you ask.

He nods his head against your pussy, mouth moving up and down. His tongue goes to your clit to suck, trying to make you come as fast as possible. Hol slides his hands up your thighs, clinging to your flesh, leaving handprints as he latches onto you. You let it go, for his hands make you press closer into his mouth. Your hands comb through his dirty blonde hair, your fingers press into his scalp to get Hol’s tongue to go deeper inside you, to lick every drop of his essence out. The motions of his lips and tongue leave you a shaking mess. You have to hold onto the metal bar above him to not fall from the pleasure.

Your orgasm hits you like a lightning bolt, sudden and electric. Hol’s face is covered in his and your liquids, as squirt after squirt comes out of your throbbing cunt. His eyes are closed in bliss, happy to have made you come again.

You pet his head in approval, him leaning into your touch. Leaning down and squatting above him, his dick finds your core again. You kiss his mouth while tasting him and yourself on his lips. Your sloppy makeout leaves him gasping for air. He needs you again. More. The grind of your hips leaves him in shock. You want more?

“Best believe I’m getting as much out of you as I can. You don’t mind do you, slut?”

All he can do is nod in response. It’s going to be a long night.

Hol startles awake. He doesn’t know where he is exactly. Taking a look around, he sees that it’s bright out and he’s in a motel room. Ah. The lady. Everything comes flooding back, including his boner. He smiles at the thought of being fucked, hoping for another few rounds before going back to work. 

A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts.

“Is there anyone there? The owner has checked out!” a muffled voice calls out from outside the door.

“Shit,” Hol curses.

[slut4supersoldiers]

Unloved

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X OC Bi reader (fem)

Summary: The one where Billy Hargrove meets his match: both are fond of speed, sex, hiding their broken hearts with a cocky smile and drinking away their pain. 

Words: 2k+Warnings: Alcohol, Abuse, Strong language, Slight angst.

A/N: I really like the Bad girl meets bad boy narrative so i gave it a try. The reader is Bi so please don’t read if you’re not comfortable with it. (although there’s nothing wrong with being bi). Also this will be a slow update.

MASTERLIST

REQUEST HERE

Hawkins was a small town in Indiana. With a handful of people living together, greeting each other every day (willingly or unwillingly) it was easier to keep a record of the faces filling up the spaces in the town. Therefore, when a new truck of movers drove into town word spread around like fire. A new family moving in next to the Jones’ house was the only buzz around town.

The Jones were the perfect picket fence family. Mr. Arthur Jones was a sales manager and worked out of town. Mrs. Carol Jones, his wife stayed at home and volunteered to help at the community centre and the church which the family religiously went to every Sunday. The Jones had twin daughters.

Deborah Jones was 7 minutes older. She was the good girl; the star of the family; the poster child for preppy. She studied at an all girl’s school out of town. The school only admitted girls who had the will to excel in the future (re: become good wives by obeying their husbands and looking after a hoard of children). The school was as obnoxious as it sounded and so was Deborah or Debbie as she preferred. The favourite child right from the get go, she was pampered and given the maximum attention.

This perfect family, however, had one ‘stain’ as they liked to privately address her. It was their other daughter, Evelyn.

Unlike her sister, Evelyn went to Hawkins High. Since she became old enough to separate good and bad, she realised she was the child her parents never wanted. She was the black sheep; the rogue wolf; the disappointment and her parents made sure to remind her of that every day. Today, being no exception.

Like every Sunday, the family woke up and got ready to go to church at 7 am and like always Evelyn got ready to go to bed after being out the whole night. Lucky for her she was dropped off by her friend Steve who carefully led her to the window of her room. Evelyn for once was thankful to her parents for giving her the room on the ground floor. She opened the half open window completely and got in as stealthily as her hungover self would allow her to. Much to her dismay her mother opened the door to her room at the same time as she shut the window.

“Evelyn Lily Jones” Evelyn could hear the disapproval dripping from her mom’s voice and she cursed herself for not locking the door the night before.

“Mother dear.” Evelyn turned around wincing at the sight of her mother. Even with the dark tinted sunglasses covering her eyes she could see her mother angrily marching to her.

Her mother angrily snatched the glasses causing Evelyn to wince as she tried to adjust to the sudden brightness.

“You’re hopeless. I know you never come to the church and frankly we don’t want to be seen with you, what with the way you act. But at least start being responsible.” Evelyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“I am sorry, your royal highness. I will clean up and wait here like a good girl while you go to the church and bask in the holiness. Sounds good?” Evelyn stifled her laugh as she could practically see the smoke coming out of her mom’s ears.

As Evelyn was about to turn around her mother grabbed her by the elbow digging her freshly manicured nails into her daughter’s skin and pulled her closer, “I am excusing your behaviour this time. But if you don’t behave tonight in front of our guests I will let your father deal with you. Sounds good?” Her mother gave her a menacing smile.

Evelyn nodded curtly as her mother pulled away. Smoothing her dress her mother gave Evelyn her usual sickening smile and walked out without a word.

As her mother shut the door Evelyn looked down at the skin around her elbow. The marks left by her mother’s fingers were already darkening, tainting her skin. Just another addition to the collection of unlimited bruises that littered her body.

Without any more thought Evelyn walked into the bathroom adjoining her room. Instead of taking a warm bath as she had initially planned Evelyn turned on the faucet and stood under the shower. The cold water cascading down made goose bumps rise on her naked body.

After a long shower Evelyn felt somewhat refreshed, the slight headache from the hangover was starting to fade away. Drying herself off, she walked towards her mirror and stared at her reflection. Unlike her sister’s naturally blonde hair, she had black hair that reached her shoulder. She still remembered the day she bought the dye and coloured her hair without telling her parents. She almost remembered how her father slapped her twice before grounding her for a week for doing that. After that she continued dyeing her just to piss off her parents.

After wearing comfortable clothes she got in bed and pulled the blanket over her head and decided to rest before that dreadful meeting with her parents’ guest.

At around 12 in the noon Evelyn was woken by the shrill ring of the phone. When she padded into the kitchen to receive the phone she realised her family had not returned yet and she was thankful for it. As soon as she picked up the phone Tina’s voice fell on her ear.

“Evie my parents have gone out and we are having a small get together. Now everyone would kill me if you don’t show up. So I am sending Artie to pick you up. No excuses.” Evelyn shook her head at her friend who was probably already tipsy. She knew she had promised her mother and if she failed to keep up with the promise the consequences would be dire. But Evelyn was not going to give up on free booze either. So without giving it another though she changed into something more presentable, hopped into her friend’s car who arrived only minutes later and was off to Tina’s house in no time.

 The moment Evelyn arrived at Tina’s house she was greeted by a very drunk Carol who hugged her and refused to let go till her boyfriend pulled her off. She finally made her way to the mini bar after greeting a dozen of people. This is the life Evelyn thought. Booze, friends and more booze. She smiled as she downed the concoction which tasted oddly like cola and whisky. She wasn’t fond of the taste but she liked the warm feeling the alcohol left in her throat. To be honest she craved anything that made her feel something. So she drank some more.

Like Evelyn had predicted Tina’s “little get together” soon turned into a proper rager. This was the best way to spend the weekend and Evelyn wanted to make the most of it. But her happiness was short lived.

Before anybody could scurry out the cops barged in through Tina’s doors. The ones close to the back door ran away while some of them ran away before the three cops could catch them. Evelyn was a little tipsy but she could have easily ran through the back door still she halted when she saw Jim Hopper, the police chief pointing a finger at her as if ordering her to stay where she was. If there was one person she respected and listened to it was Jim Hopper. So she stopped. Within seconds Hopper walked over to her and ushered her to follow him out.

The moment Evelyn stepped out the cold air enveloped her. The sun had set and was now replaced by the moon that shone bright. When she sat in the car Evelyn looked at the watch on Hopper’s wrist, 7:15. Evelyn was hoping that she could miraculously skip the dinner but fate (and Jim hopper had other plans). To top it all the constant glances from hopper were beginning to annoy Evelyn so she just chose to look out the window.

“Why are you doing this Evelyn?” After a moment of silence passed between them Hopper finally spoke up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Evelyn shrugged and put her feet up on the headboard.

“Hey! Feet off.” Hopper bellowed forcing Evelyn to get her feet off and cower closer to the passenger door. Hopper sighed at her reaction, “this is not healthy Evelyn. Nothing good will come out of this.”

“Has anything good ever happened to me anyway?” Evelyn smiled but the smile did not meet her eyes.

“Kid, you can get out of here. You’re a brilliant student. Just put in some more eff-

“And go where Jim? I don’t belong anywhere. I’ll always be a freak, a disappointment or whatever. My own family doesn’t accept me what makes you think anyone else will?” by the end of her rant erratic breathes left her mouth. This silenced the chief and he sped towards her house. As soon as they reached her house Evelyn sat up straighter and almost as if a switch went off Evelyn’s demeanour changed. She held a shit eating grin and looked over at the older man.

“Wow! That was an intense ride. Need to take the edge off. Got a cig?” Evelyn continued to smile at Hopper.

“No! Now I am gonna take you to your house and I don’t want to see you causing any more trouble.” The chief said as he opened the car door.  

“Come on chief as if you didn’t do messed up things back in the days!” Evelyn sassed back.

Rolling his eyes Jim rang the bell. The lights on the porch went on and Evelyn’s dad opened the door.

“Ah! Chief and Evelyn?” Her dad’s expression went from happy to sour.

“Yes! She was helping the guys…uh… at the store to clean up the graffiti from the store wall. I saw her and dropped her off.” Hopper shook her dad’s hand who gave him a tight smile in return and walked in immediately after, completely disregarding her presence.

“Evelyn behave.” Hopper glared at her before walking to his car and driving away.

Evelyn rolled her eyes at his behaviour, “well at least he saved my ass (with a terrible lie)”, she thought. She heaved a huge sigh and made a dash to her room only to be stopped by her mother.

“Evelyn honey come meet our guests.”  Her mom’s sickeningly sweet voice fell on her ears. To others it might seem normal, motherly even. But only Evelyn knew it was the silence before the storm. So she walked into the dining room where four unfamiliar faces were sitting with her own family.

“This is my other daughter Evelyn, Evelyn these are the Hargroves.” Mrs. Jones grabbed her daughter’s hand and pushed her towards one of the empty chairs forcing her to sit down.

“Evelyn I am Susan, this is Neil my husband, that’s Maxine my daughter and Billy her step-brother.” Evelyn turned her head to Billy when she heard him scoff. She had to admit it he was good looking. He looked a little different than his family. Almost like an outsider.

Oblivious to his remark Susan continued, “Your mom talked a lot about you.” She smiled.

Evelyn raised her eyebrows and looked at Susan, “Well Susan let me assure you that I am nothing like my mom described me. I am a good person, contrary to what she must’ve said.” The moment she said this her mom hit the spoon in her hands on her daughter’s knuckles which were placed on her knee, under the table. Both her parents, shot daggers at her. As she managed to look away from their faces she saw Billy giving her a smug smile almost as if he was impressed.

“I am just joking.” she said biting her lip to keep herself from smiling.

Susan laughed nervously and so did Evelyn’s mother. Once again they started talking. Susan was busy sharing recipes with Mrs. Jones, while Neil and Mr. Jones excused themselves to walk to the bar. Debbie on the other hand was too busy making eyes at Billy, completely oblivious of how he was looking down her top instead of her face.

Evelyn’s eyes now fell on the little girl, Max. She was sitting quietly, looking down at her plate. She could see Max pushing the peas away from the rest of the food. But when Susan shook her head disapprovingly she groaned and stopped. Evelyn suddenly grabbed the napkin from her lap and gave it to the young girl. She looked up at the older girl questioningly. In response Evelyn nodded towards the peas and back to the napkin. Slowly Max pushed the peas into the napkin and handed it to Evelyn. Both the girls smirked at each other as Max placed the spoon back on the plate.

“Well if you will excuse me.” Evelyn looked at the six people at the table and got up. Disposing the peas in the trash can without anyone noticing she made her way to her room before anyone could object.

Once in her room she threw her jacket away and began unzipping her boots when a knock came on her door.

Rolling her eyes she got up to unlock the door. Evelyn was surprised when she saw that boy from the table. “Billy”, she reminded herself. She raised her eyebrows and crossed her hands in front of her chest.

“Your mom and Susan thought we should socialize considering the fact that we’ll be going to the same school and sadly I don’t have many friends here.” He pouted as he walked in ignoring Evelyn’s protests.

“Dude what the fuck?” She yelled at him as he began pulling the pictures she had pinned on a display board.

“Who’s that?” He shoved a Polaroid in her face. Evelyn had pinned it at the corner of the board almost as if she didn’t want to see it but still refused to throw it away for the sentimental value it held. She pulled the said Polaroid out of his hand and took a good look at the picture. It was perfect. Or that’s what she had said then. Evelyn finally tore her eyes away from the Polaroid and walked away from billy to put the picture on her vanity.

Turning to Billy she said, “That’s none of your business.” He raised his hands in defence, “Just trying to be friendly.” He smiled at her.

“Why don’t you go and be ‘friendly’ with my sister? I am sure she’d love that.” Evelyn crossed her arms and glared at the boy.

“Your sister? Nah! Not my type.” He smirked at Evelyn who rose her eyebrows at him.

Before she could argue with him any further, her mom called for the two of them as the Hargroves wanted to leave.

As tempting as Evelyn thought it would be to stay in her room, the moment her father yelled for her, her feet carried her out of the room automatically. Neil, Susan and Max were already out of the door and as Billy followed behind her, Mrs. Jones who was holding Susan’s dainty fingers murmured, “Hope there was no funny business you two.” And both the women broke out laughing.

Evelyn could only roll her eyes and mutter, “as if.” Only to realise it was the last straw for her father. He grabbed his daughter’s elbow much like her mother had but harder.

“Don’t you wanna say goodbye to our guests Evelyn?” Her father gripped her elbow harder enough to leave a bruise. She suddenly tensed at his actions and blinking away the tears frantically, she muttered a goodbye. Completely oblivious to what was happening Susan, Neil and Max bid the ‘happy family’ goodbye but Billy lingered back for a while looking from Mr. Jones to Evelyn and finally giving the girl a curt nod he walked away.

[bittersweetfacade]

Lack of Oxygen

Lack of oxygen. That's what my smartass friend always told me was why I yawned so much. But in reality it was because I was so damn tired all the time. That didn't matter though because like every morning my annoying ass alarm clock went off at 7 o clock blaring terrible country music so I'll have to wake up and change the station. I roll over to get out of bed and fall straight on my back. With a loud groan I get up and hit my radio a couple times till it switches to some alternative station that always plays Pearl Jam. I had about 30 minutes to get around for school which wasn't really enough time for me but I'm always late anyway. I down a cup of cold coffee that I never got to drink from yesterday and cringe at the bitter taste. I finally emerge from my bedroom and head across the hall to my bathroom. I check out myself in the mirror and almost laugh at the sight of my hair. It was standing on end but I was too lazy to fix it so I went with the look. I mean it was the punk way. I take my time cleaning each one of my facial piercings. From my eyebrow to my nose to both my lip piercings. I do all the other necessary things that just about every boy does in the morning from brushing my teeth to shaving my face only I leave some stubble because that's what the ladies like. I head over to my room and pick up a pair of probably dirty black jeans with many holes in them and random band tee from my drawer. I run downstairs and grab my boots and not bother saying good by to my mom because she's already out drinking at the bars anyway. It's 7:10 by the time I get to school and school started at 7. I hop out of my truck and take my time walking to my first period class because it's math and no one likes math. "You're late Castiel!" Mr. Singer tells me. "Please Bobby call me Cas," I say smirking at him. "Also it's because I needed a coffee or I wasn't going to make it through your class" Mr. Singer stifles a laugh and returns to teaching his lessons. About half way through the lesson a boy and our principal walks in. Holy shit from all the way back here I could see the boys fan fiction green eyes. (Yes I read fanfics, sue me). Our principal said something about there being a new student and his name which I didn't catch because I was too busy having a staring contest with the new boy. "You can sit behind Castiel, Castiel raise your hand" Mr Singer said. The boy and I broke eye contact and I raised my hand, smirking. I saw the boy blush noticeably. He came and sat next to me and immediately faces forward. I turn around in my seat and obviously look him up and down and finally lean forward to talk to him. "What's your name kid?" I ask. "Oh um..me?" The boy asks. "Yes you" "Oh um... I'm D..D..Dean" Dean stuttered. Internally scolding himself for stuttering in front of the punk boy. Right before I turned about in his seat I said a quick "welcome to Stone Ridge High school Deano". Dean blushed and said a quick thanks not sure if I was being sarcastic or was actually being welcoming. Either way he couldn't help but stare at me and all my persona. Dean took in me, the punk boy from my blue tipped hair to my facial piercings to my nirvana shirt all the way down to my Doc Marten boots. I knew Dean was staring but decided to let him. The bell rang and rang and rang time and time again as school went on slow and monotonous like always. Then finally it was last period. Gym. Dreadful gym. It wasn't that I was lazy I just hated how all the dumbass jocks showed off all their "skills". Today the class was outside playing rugby. Skins and shirts were the two teams and of course the coach always made the weird scrawny kids skins and made rude comments to them telling them to "buff up". While I was tuning out all the rules I heard my name being called by the coach and then the word "skins" following it. I smirked and noticed that Dean was in my class and also staring at me almost in anticipation. I shed my shirt and threw it somewhere in the opposite direction. I could hear muffled gasps as all my tattoos were out in the open. I spread my arms out in the "look at me world" way and did a little spin so everyone could see the art that decorated my body. I turned back around and saw Dean eyeing me up and down and then when he met my eyes again he blushed a bright red. "Alright Castiel you can stop the show, you're lucky that Principal Roman doesn't know about that "art", Coach says to me. The thing about our school is that it's a public school but everyone acts like it's a private catholic school minus the uniforms but Dean made it seem like we had uniforms with his slacks and fucking sweater vest. --- I was walking to my truck after school when I noticed a beautiful 67' chevy impala in the high school parking lot. After I noticed the car I noticed a nice ass hanging out of the backseat of the car. The person must of been putting a bag in the back or something. I walked around to the other side of the car and noticed it was Dean. "Hello Dean" I say to him. "Holy shit!" Dean said hitting his head on the roof of the car. "Weren't expecting me huh?" I ask, smirking. "Um uh not really. What are you doing? Like uh talking to me I um mean?" Dean asks getting flustered. "I noticed your beautiful car and then saw your beautiful ass hanging out of it and thought I would come give a nice Stone Ridge High School hello" I feign excitement. Dean blushed a darker red lost for words. "Also I was wondering if you wanted to hang out and I could tell you the ups and downs of this high school and show you some cool music" I state firmly not really letting him give me a no. "Um I uh g..g..guess. Let me just tell my little brother to d..d..drive home himself" Dean says in return. "Alright sweet, my truck is this way" I say, pointing in the opposite direction. Dean followed me to my car and the whole car ride I could feel his nervous stare on me. "You like you stare huh?" I ask. "W..what?" Dean responds not realizing that Castiel could see him. "You heard me. We have almost every class together and I can just feel you eyeballing me all fucking day dude. Like I know I'm attractive but damn I don't have that much to look at. Okay sorry that came off as rude but I just want to know why you've been looking at me all day, especially at gym" I say. "I like your wings". Dean states "My what?" I ask. "Your wings, on your back. I like all your tattoos actually. They are very unique. I really like the bee though with the Morse code underneath it." Dean says calmly and without stuttering almost like he wasn't thinking before he spoke. "Thanks, the wings aren't finished yet though, but I'm getting them finished soon." I say back. "Here we are. The Novak residence." Dean and I walked inside and I didn't even bother apologizing for the mess of beer bottles and clothes because it wasn't my fault that my dumbass mom was an alcoholic. "Follow me" I shoot behind me as I walk up the stairs to my bedroom. My room was fairly clean. There was just yesterday's clothes on the floor and some records strewn on my unmade bed. My room was probably scary as hell to Dean with the posters of punk bands on my wall and my black walls and all dark room other than the light from my window streaming in. "Welcome to my sanctuary" I say to dean, winking. Dean looked away but before he could I noticed a bright red blush appear across his freckled face. "You know," I say taking a step closer to Dean "you blush a lot for being an 18 year old dude but I'll let it slide because you just look so damn adorable when you get all flustered around me" I say taking another step closer to him. I took a few more steps until I'm practically on top on of Dean. I make him think I'm leaning in for a kiss but I reach around him and grab my pack of cigarettes. I grabbed a cig out of the pack and put it snugly between my lips and searched around for a lighter. After I found one and lit the cancer stick Dean spoke up. "You smoke?" Dean asked without the tiniest bit of disgust in his voice. "Yeah" I said shrugging it off like smoking was not something that would give me lung cancer. "I've always wanted to try but I never had the opportunity" Dean said bluntly. I was taken back a bit. This little nerd wants to try smoking this stupid little tobacco stick. "You wanna try?" I asked "Yeah but I'm afraid I'll cough and you'll make fun of me" Dean said without thinking. "You can just shot gun it then" I said not realizing that I was talking to the super nerdy boy who probably is still hasn't had his first kiss. "What's that?" Dean asks. "It's when I take a hit of the cig or blunt and then blow it into your mouth" I say Dean turns bright red thinking about our mouths being that close. "Um uh yeah okay" Dean finally says "Alright then!" I say clapping my hands together. I take a long hit of my cigarette and hold it in while I grab the collar of Dean's button up. I take my hand and pull his chin down so he knows to open his mouth. I put my hand on the back of his neck and I can feel him shiver as I pull him closer and closer till our lips are millimeters apart. I exhale and slightly blow the smoke into the nerdy boy's mouth. Dean closes his eyes and takes in the smoke carefully almost as if he doesn't want to hurt it. Just looking at him like this makes my heart and my stomach do this weird thing, almost as if feelings were rising up in me. Dean mutters a "woah" but before he can open his eyes I grab him closer and close the gap between our lips and kiss him roughly. It starts out sloppy and slowly begins to become more caring and soft. We finally pull away to catch our breaths and I swear I couldn't breath. Some may say I had a lack of oxygen.

[he-lost-control-again]

Lack of Oxygen

Lack of oxygen. That's what my smartass friend always told me was why I yawned so much. But in reality it was because I was so damn tired all the time. That didn't matter though because like every morning my annoying ass alarm clock went off at 7 o clock blaring terrible country music so I'll have to wake up and change the station. I roll over to get out of bed and fall straight on my back. With a loud groan I get up and hit my radio a couple times till it switches to some alternative station that always plays Pearl Jam. I had about 30 minutes to get around for school which wasn't really enough time for me but I'm always late anyway. I down a cup of cold coffee that I never got to drink from yesterday and cringe at the bitter taste. I finally emerge from my bedroom and head across the hall to my bathroom. I check out myself in the mirror and almost laugh at the sight of my hair. It was standing on end but I was too lazy to fix it so I went with the look. I mean it was the punk way. I take my time cleaning each one of my facial piercings. From my eyebrow to my nose to both my lip piercings. I do all the other necessary things that just about every boy does in the morning from brushing my teeth to shaving my face only I leave some stubble because that's what the ladies like. I head over to my room and pick up a pair of probably dirty black jeans with many holes in them and random band tee from my drawer. I run downstairs and grab my boots and not bother saying good by to my mom because she's already out drinking at the bars anyway. It's 7:10 by the time I get to school and school started at 7. I hop out of my truck and take my time walking to my first period class because it's math and no one likes math. "You're late Castiel!" Mr. Singer tells me. "Please Bobby call me Cas," I say smirking at him. "Also it's because I needed a coffee or I wasn't going to make it through your class" Mr. Singer stifles a laugh and returns to teaching his lessons. About half way through the lesson a boy and our principal walks in. Holy shit from all the way back here I could see the boys fan fiction green eyes. (Yes I read fanfics, sue me). Our principal said something about there being a new student and his name which I didn't catch because I was too busy having a staring contest with the new boy. "You can sit behind Castiel, Castiel raise your hand" Mr Singer said. The boy and I broke eye contact and I raised my hand, smirking. I saw the boy blush noticeably. He came and sat next to me and immediately faces forward. I turn around in my seat and obviously look him up and down and finally lean forward to talk to him. "What's your name kid?" I ask. "Oh um..me?" The boy asks. "Yes you" "Oh um... I'm D..D..Dean" Dean stuttered. Internally scolding himself for stuttering in front of the punk boy. Right before I turned about in his seat I said a quick "welcome to Stone Ridge High school Deano". Dean blushed and said a quick thanks not sure if I was being sarcastic or was actually being welcoming. Either way he couldn't help but stare at me and all my persona. Dean took in me, the punk boy from my blue tipped hair to my facial piercings to my nirvana shirt all the way down to my Doc Marten boots. I knew Dean was staring but decided to let him. The bell rang and rang and rang time and time again as school went on slow and monotonous like always. Then finally it was last period. Gym. Dreadful gym. It wasn't that I was lazy I just hated how all the dumbass jocks showed off all their "skills". Today the class was outside playing rugby. Skins and shirts were the two teams and of course the coach always made the weird scrawny kids skins and made rude comments to them telling them to "buff up". While I was tuning out all the rules I heard my name being called by the coach and then the word "skins" following it. I smirked and noticed that Dean was in my class and also staring at me almost in anticipation. I shed my shirt and threw it somewhere in the opposite direction. I could hear muffled gasps as all my tattoos were out in the open. I spread my arms out in the "look at me world" way and did a little spin so everyone could see the art that decorated my body. I turned back around and saw Dean eyeing me up and down and then when he met my eyes again he blushed a bright red. "Alright Castiel you can stop the show, you're lucky that Principal Roman doesn't know about that "art", Coach says to me. The thing about our school is that it's a public school but everyone acts like it's a private catholic school minus the uniforms but Dean made it seem like we had uniforms with his slacks and fucking sweater vest. --- I was walking to my truck after school when I noticed a beautiful 67' chevy impala in the high school parking lot. After I noticed the car I noticed a nice ass hanging out of the backseat of the car. The person must of been putting a bag in the back or something. I walked around to the other side of the car and noticed it was Dean. "Hello Dean" I say to him. "Holy shit!" Dean said hitting his head on the roof of the car. "Weren't expecting me huh?" I ask, smirking. "Um uh not really. What are you doing? Like uh talking to me I um mean?" Dean asks getting flustered. "I noticed your beautiful car and then saw your beautiful ass hanging out of it and thought I would come give a nice Stone Ridge High School hello" I feign excitement. Dean blushed a darker red lost for words. "Also I was wondering if you wanted to hang out and I could tell you the ups and downs of this high school and show you some cool music" I state firmly not really letting him give me a no. "Um I uh g..g..guess. Let me just tell my little brother to d..d..drive home himself" Dean says in return. "Alright sweet, my truck is this way" I say, pointing in the opposite direction. Dean followed me to my car and the whole car ride I could feel his nervous stare on me. "You like you stare huh?" I ask. "W..what?" Dean responds not realizing that Castiel could see him. "You heard me. We have almost every class together and I can just feel you eyeballing me all fucking day dude. Like I know I'm attractive but damn I don't have that much to look at. Okay sorry that came off as rude but I just want to know why you've been looking at me all day, especially at gym" I say. "I like your wings". Dean states "My what?" I ask. "Your wings, on your back. I like all your tattoos actually. They are very unique. I really like the bee though with the Morse code underneath it." Dean says calmly and without stuttering almost like he wasn't thinking before he spoke. "Thanks, the wings aren't finished yet though, but I'm getting them finished soon." I say back. "Here we are. The Novak residence." Dean and I walked inside and I didn't even bother apologizing for the mess of beer bottles and clothes because it wasn't my fault that my dumbass mom was an alcoholic. "Follow me" I shoot behind me as I walk up the stairs to my bedroom. My room was fairly clean. There was just yesterday's clothes on the floor and some records strewn on my unmade bed. My room was probably scary as hell to Dean with the posters of punk bands on my wall and my black walls and all dark room other than the light from my window streaming in. "Welcome to my sanctuary" I say to dean, winking. Dean looked away but before he could I noticed a bright red blush appear across his freckled face. "You know," I say taking a step closer to Dean "you blush a lot for being an 18 year old dude but I'll let it slide because you just look so damn adorable when you get all flustered around me" I say taking another step closer to him. I took a few more steps until I'm practically on top on of Dean. I make him think I'm leaning in for a kiss but I reach around him and grab my pack of cigarettes. I grabbed a cig out of the pack and put it snugly between my lips and searched around for a lighter. After I found one and lit the cancer stick Dean spoke up. "You smoke?" Dean asked without the tiniest bit of disgust in his voice. "Yeah" I said shrugging it off like smoking was not something that would give me lung cancer. "I've always wanted to try but I never had the opportunity" Dean said bluntly. I was taken back a bit. This little nerd wants to try smoking this stupid little tobacco stick. "You wanna try?" I asked "Yeah but I'm afraid I'll cough and you'll make fun of me" Dean said without thinking. "You can just shot gun it then" I said not realizing that I was talking to the super nerdy boy who probably is still hasn't had his first kiss. "What's that?" Dean asks. "It's when I take a hit of the cig of blunt and then blow it into your mouth" I say Dean turns bright red thinking about our mouths being that close. "Um uh yeah okay" Dean finally says "Alright then!" I say clapping my hands together. I take a long hit of my cigarette and hold it in while I grab the collar of Dean's button up. I take my hand and pull his chin down so he knows to open his mouth. I put my hand on the back of his neck and I can feel him shiver as I pull him closer and closer till our lips are millimeters apart. I exhale and slightly blow the smoke into the nerdy boy's mouth. Dean closes his eyes and takes in the smoke carefully almost as if he doesn't want to hurt it. Just looking at him like this makes my heart and my stomach do this weird thing, almost as if feelings were rising up in me. Dean mutters a "woah" but before he can open his eyes I grab him closer and close the gap between our lips and kiss him roughly. It starts out sloppy and slowly begins to become more caring and soft. We finally pull away to catch our breaths and I swear I couldn't breath. Some may say I had a lack of oxygen.

[xbunny-blossomx-blog]

ERIC HARRIS GUNPLAY

×Disclaimer×

Using the name Bunny for the reader because it is easier like that! Enjoy!

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

The sound of your alarm clock made you jump from a dream to reality. You placed your feet on the floor that sent chills through your whole body. It was a Saturday and you were going to a party tonight with your best friends Dylan and Eric. You never really went anywhere, but this time you made an exception to Dylan’s puppy eyes when he begged you to tag along. You went into the bathroom and started the shower; looking in the mirror at your face which was colorless and pale as usual. Your parents never really knew why you were so pale, everyone else came out looking like humans while you came into the world looking like a ghost. That didn’t matter to you because your shower was hot and ready to go. You got in the shower and washed your long H/C hair. You toweled yourself off after a good fifteen minutes of singing in the shower and contemplating what to wear tonight. You always had a unique style according to Brooks and Nate, but the others didn’t seem to notice much. Brooks was one of your childhood friends; you were pretty much inseparable. No one really understood how you two managed to click but you did. He was shy and quiet; so were you, maybe that’s why. Either way, you couldn’t ask for a better friend in your opinion. You gathered your towel around you and walked back to your room. You put on some of your favorite music and pulled together an outfit for the daytime. Jeans, a tank top, and some boots. You sighed in accomplishment as you went downstairs and read the note from your mom on the fridge. “Taking the vacation your dad and I planned months ago. See you soon!” You were home alone for a whole month. ‘Mom really has become lenient in her trust.’ You thought as you made some coffee. You finished your coffee and went back upstairs so that you could get ready to go start your day. You grabbed your camera bag that you have had since 3rd grade and your polaroid camera. You walked outside and it was gray and gloomy. “Just how I like my days for photography.”, you said taking in a deep breath of the cold October air. You gathered your senses and walked to your old Impala that your father gave you on your 16th birthday. You unlocked the door and started the engine; it roared like a dragon and you backed out of your driveway. After hours of taking pictures, you came back home at 4 PM. Dylan was picking you up at 6 so you had enough time to get ready. You went upstairs and brushed your hair after putting on a crop top and some jeans that showed your naval piercing. You slipped on your converses and by that time it was almost 6. You brushed your teeth and walked downstairs as you heard a knock at your door. You opened the door to the tall lanky male that greeted you with a tight hug. “Brooks is in the front seat, so you’re gonna be in the back with Eric.”, Dylan said smiling at you. The thought of being so close to Eric made you blush a bright pink. You had always had a crush on Eric but you were too scared to admit it. Dylan surely didn't lack in the knowledge of this which made you think he did this on purpose. “Bunny, why you blushing huh?”, he teased as he nudged your arm. “No reason.”, you trailed off and walked out to his car. You slid into the backseat where Eric was smoking a cigarette. “Sup Shorty?”, he said smirking and handing you a cig. “Really? Still calling me that dumb nickname?”, you giggled and lit your cigarette. "Problem?", he said smirking at you making you blush intensely. You looked up at him, his smirk was amazing and the way he could make you melt into his control was heavenly. "Looks like we are here!", Dylan said pulling the car to a stop. You all got out of the car hearing the faint music pumping from inside. You walked inside and Dylan drug Brooks to get everyone drinks. After a few glasses of vodka, you were drunk and stumbling everywhere. Dylan and Brooks drifted off on their own somewhere while Eric was left feeling obligated to keep you safe in your drunken state. You tried to stand up and stumbled backward into Eric who's hands gripped your hips keeping you steady. “Easy girl.”, he said his voice low and rough from the alcohol. You tensed with his touch and the sound of his voice. “Sorry.”, you managed to stutter out. “It’s alright, just try to be more careful.”, he chuckled sitting you down next to him. You looked up at him finishing off your 4th glass of vodka and giggling. “Come dance with me, Eric!”, you smiled as you stood up clumsily. “I don't dance and you know that.”, he chuckled relaxing back on the couch watching you dance. “Come on! Please!”, you begged him in your best whiny voice. “No!”, he said smirking watching you move your hips. He licked his lips and smiled at you. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eric’s POV

She was dancing carefree in front of me. The way her hips moved made me grow more attracted to her. Her body was perfect and in rhythm to the music that was playing in the background. She was beautiful; it made me think of all the things I could do to her. 

Your POV

You were dancing when you felt a pair of strong hands on your hips. You jumped at the feeling but relaxed into them continuing to move your hips like before. You turned around to meet Eric’s eyes in a staring contest of admiration. He dragged you into one of the spare bedrooms and pulled you closer as he locked the door. You leaned against him trying to keep yourself standing. He bit his lip and pulled you closer to him; he leaned down and kissed you softly. You kissed him back gently working your lips against his. His lips were soft and gentle, you nipped at his lower lip wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him closer. He growled in response biting your lip harder than you bit his making you sigh. He used this to his advantage sticking his tongue into your mouth exploring every corner of it. He enjoyed the taste of you as he picked you up throwing you onto the bed pulling your top off and immediately attacking your neck with gentle kisses biting every once in awhile leaving marks on your exposed flesh. You arched your back as he bit down on your sweet spot. He hesitantly pulled his shirt off and threw it to the side kissing your lips again and feeling you up and down squeezing at your breasts occasionally. He undid your bra and looked at you licking his lips grinning devilishly. “God your gorgeous Bunny.”, he sighed taking one of your breasts in his mouth gently sucking on your nipple while caressing the other. You moaned softly and ran your fingers through his hair as he left marks on your breasts that would surely be there tomorrow. He growled in response to you tugging on his hair gently and he kissed down your torso making it to the edge of your jeans. He pulled your boots off and slid your jeans off leaving you in only your black lace underwear. He groaned in approval of the sight and kissed you roughly undoing his belt and tying your hands above your head. He growled and bit down on your neck roughly causing you to whimper. You could see the lust in his eyes and you bit your lip carefully closing your eyes enjoying every minute of this. You heard the rattling of metal and then felt something cold touch your bare skin. You looked down and he had a pistol. You whimpered and bit your lip slightly frightened. “Hush baby girl, trust daddy.”, he sighed in your ear bringing the gun to your mouth. You stuck your tongue out trying to lick the gun and he put it in your mouth. “Excited are we?”, he smirked as he ran his fingers against your slit through your underwear. You moaned against the gun that you were anxiously sucking on. You tried to get it in your mouth deeper causing you to gag. “Good girl.”, he groaned as he slid off his pants. You seductively let spit run down your chin as you moaned against the now warm metal of the gun. He pulled it away and drug it down your body gently to your pulsing cunt. He slid your underwear off teasingly kissing the inside of your thighs. “Eric, please!”, you whimpered as he placed the cool barrel on your clit. “What baby?”, he asked in a low voice. “Please eat me!”, you whined. He drug the gun down to your entrance and began to push it in slowly as his tongue grazed over your clit slowly. You moaned loudly and arched your back. He pushed it deeper pulling it in and out of you as he licked you; worshiping how sweet you tasted. He pulled it out and flipped you over pulling you onto your knees. He rubbed his hard cock against your slit and licked your juices off of his pistol. “So sweet.”, he mumbled as he slammed into you causing you to yelp loudly. “What babygirl does it feel good?”, he said pounding into you over and over tugging at your hair with the gun pointed at you. “Come on tell me does it?!”, he growled into your ear. “Yes daddy it feels good!”, you managed to whine out in pleasure. He sped up grunting every time he pounded into you deeper. You were so close as you felt your stomach tighten. “Im gonna cum!”, you yelped loudly. “Cum for me, Do it!”, he growled thrusting harder hitting that spot every time just sending you over the edge. “Fuck!”, you whined as you came all over his hard cock. A few more hard thrusts and you felt him release deep inside you. You panted as he pulled out a string of cum connecting you two. “I love you Bunny.”, he said sighing. “I love you too Eric.”