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[chestharrington]

Fixation

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: SMUT (fingering, handjob, p in v). Dubious Consent (coercion, power imbalance, failure to pull out), unhealthy/probably illegal power imbalance, stripper!reader, gator is an asshole (like extremely), degradation, misogyny, sexual assault (by a non major character), brief violence, kind of stockholm syndrome if you think about it, unhappy ending

Summary: Gator Tillman’s fixation of the week just so happens to be you, for better or worse.

A/N: If you know me personally please do not read this thank u <3

The foggy clouds of your breath were painted pink by the glow of the neon sign— The Venus Lounge— with a cute little clamshell opening and closing and everything. 

You had a velour sweatsuit pulled over the skimpy costume you’d wear for your next dance, hot pink and bedazzled across the ass. It was trendy maybe fifteen years prior, so it cost just about nothing when you bought it at a bin sale. 

Sweet, strawberry-scented vapor poured from your lips as you exhaled. You hated this stupid thing— you’d rather smoke a cigarette like a goddamn adult. But the owner insisted, “You ladies gotta stay smelling nice and sweet and respectable for our clientele.” Which was fucking stupid considering they came in smelling like sweat and mud and body odor. 

From the alley, you could get a sneak peek of whoever was coming your way for the night— the big spenders, the handsy ones, the cheap ones… and Gator Tillman’s stupid entourage, who you avoided like the plague.

You made the mistake of getting cozy with him. Once. A few well-paid lap dances, then a private dance in one of the dimly lit back rooms. He’d been handsy, and you relished in it, in him. A handsome, powerful guy who looked at you like you were the hottest woman he’d ever seen. You sucked him off in the private room and he gave you a hundred to shut the fuck up about it. Like you were some sort of whore.

Gator. What a stupid fucking name. His dad was a grade-A cocksucker, so it made sense that he’d name his son something so goddamn stupid. The other girls were scared of Roy, with good reason. Their boyfriend get too rough? He’d brush it off— no domestic abuse charges on his watch. The man is the master of the house, and the woman is his property. One girl swore he came onto her, and she got a broken arm when she brushed him off. A lot of people thought that stepping to the Tillman’s meant winding up dead. 

Fuck that. 

You hadn’t wanted to wind up in this town anyway. You were married, once upon a time. You had the tattoo of his name on your hipbone, a shitty rental house in West Texas, and a wedding band he bought from a pawn shop. He found a job up north, and you followed like an obedient puppy. 

It wasn’t your fault he’d racked up gambling debts— that he owed the wrong people money he didn’t have. And it wasn’t your fault that he was fucking a waitress at the local diner— thin, blonde, perky. The divorce was settled quickly— but you were left penniless, in bumfuck North Dakota, in Tillman territory. 

Well, it was a good thing you still had your looks. 

You saw the police cruiser pull into the lot, heard the slam of the car door and the mindless chatter between the valiant boys in blue. Those assholes did about as much for the city as a tick does for a dog. Your phone buzzed against your hip, warning you that your break was up. You took one more puff from your vape and slipped back in the door to the dressing room. 

You warned everyone that Gator and his boys were out there as you slipped out of your jogging suit and adjusted your dancewear beneath— a baby blue bikini set that you’d bedazzled by hand. You slipped a sheer skirt overtop and surveyed yourself in the mirror. There was still a flush on your cheeks from being out in the cold, but it would be fine. 

You slipped out onto the floor, passing by crowded tables. It was busy, even for a Saturday, which meant more money to take home. A hand grabbed your ass and squeezed it in a meaty paw. It was some drunk old guy who probably couldn’t even get it up anymore but had maintained his pervy inclinations. You bit your cheek to keep from saying anything and kept making your rounds.

“You want a dance?” You’d ask the safe guys— the ones who looked nervous to be there, whose eyes kept flitting around like they’d get caught any moment. Their button-ups were ironed, their slacks pressed. Usually, they had a nice fountain pen in their pocket. Clerks, CPAs, any of those nerdy desk jobs. 

Most of the time they declined, too nervous to go that far, but occasionally you’d get a yes, do a bit of grinding, and walk away with a nice tip. 

You’d done a few lap dances by the time you passed by Gator and his crew. Your money was tucked into the band at your hip, concealing your ex-husband’s name. 

He called you like a dog– whistling low. You froze, and turned to face him, all smug and pleased with himself. 

“You need somethin’, Deputy?” You asked, jaw clenched, raising a brow. “Because if you do, you can ask like a gentleman. I’m a lady, not a dog.”

He laughed, glancing back at his pack of asshole cops to make sure they saw the next part. “Really? ‘Cause it seems to me you’re actin’ like a bitch.” They all laughed, because of course they did. They thought he was so, so clever. Before you could respond, he held up a fifty-dollar bill between two fingers. “C’mere, girl. I want a dance.”

Your eyes flicked between him and the fifty between his fingers. You were broke, but was it worth it? He saw your hesitation and his smug grin grew. “Aw, you need it that bad, huh?” He patted his thigh twice. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Anyone in their right mind would’ve said no, and walked away with their dignity intact, but he was right— you needed it bad. 

So you approached and tried to pluck the money from his hand, but he pulled it away, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Nuh-uh, Sweetheart. Gotta earn it first.”

You huffed in disbelief, taking a step back. But meeting his gaze told you how serious he was. You swallowed your pride and straddled his lap, grinding to the beat. 

It felt degrading, dancing on him while his friends all leered. Your tits pressed against Gator’s shirt, his hands firm on your hips, even though he knew he wasn’t allowed to touch. If you called him out on it, he’d probably just say it was nothing he hadn’t done before.

It could’ve been one song, or maybe more. Probably more. When he finally removed his hands, he nodded for you to get off. You swallowed uncomfortably and took a few awkward steps back. 

“The money,” you said weakly.

His face scrunched slightly, like he was considering it. “Eh… I don’t think you earned it, Sweetheart. I mean, I’m not even hard.” 

He got a real kick out of that, and out of the kicked puppy look in your eyes. You swallowed it down like a bitter pill and met his gaze. “It’s not my fault that all the blow you do is killing your dick. Keep your fuckin’ money, Gator. I don’t want it.”

Which was a lie. You wanted it more than anything… but you knew you’d pissed him off. You could see the vein popping at his temple, the way his hand clenched around his beer bottle. Better to pretend you were better off without it and walk off with some dignity left.

It took about three steps to realize that there was a little less pressure on your hip than there used to be. Your hand felt along the band of the bikini and came up blank. He’d taken your fucking money. 

You heard him giggling behind you once he knew you realized, but what was the point? Who would you call to get it back? The police?

By the end of the night, you counted your meager earnings and tucked it away in your bag. Without your dancewear and the makeup and the heels, you could pass for the average citizen of Stark County. 

You bundled up in a parka before you walked to your car, a shitty, beat-up car nearly older than you were. One of the side mirrors was ripped off, and the bumper was caved in, but she ran. 

Tucked into the windshield was a tiny note, in a messy, nearly illegible scrawl— Impress me next time. You crumpled it and tossed it onto the asphalt.

  You saw him again on Monday. The club was closed on Sunday, due to an ordinance that Roy Tillman had put in place about businesses of ill repute operating on the holy day. You wondered what he thought about his son bankrolling the lives of half of the strippers who worked at the club.

He was alone, though, which scared and comforted you in equal measure. You watched him from afar, sitting at the bar, drinking a White Claw and puffing on that stupid fucking vape. 

There was a girl in his lap, one of the newer dancers who didn’t know better. Whatever. She’d figure him out soon enough. 

Mondays were slow. You did a few dances onstage, made the rounds, flirted with some of the regulars. Gator was blissfully elsewhere, which you loved. 

The night had been pretty tame until just before last call, when an overserved realtor got loud and handsy. 

“C’mon, why don't you take me back to one of those rooms without the cameras?” One asked as you gave him a half-hearted lap dance. His breath was like a punch bowl at a senior prom, and his fingers dug into the plush of your ass. 

You winced as he pulled you harder against him, and you felt the uncomfortable prod of his dick against you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was grinding up against you, sweaty at his temples and forehead. He was deceptively strong, holding you down against him so he could rut against you and get off. “Ya know, the private rooms for the big tippers. Better than all this over the clothes stuff.”

“You need to stop,” you said, as firmly as you could, shoving at his chest to really get your point across. He didn’t let up, and gave you a smarmy grin as he began roughly moving your hips of his own accord. “Hey, stop it, asshole.”

“Hey, you’re the one offerin’ me a dance,” he said. “I sold a nice big house today, got a real good commission. I could tip ya real good if you’re nice.”

“Let me go!” You shoved at his chest, slapping at him, but he just grinned. You were just wondering if biting his ear off would do the trick when you felt yourself pulled off him and tossed aside on the floor like a rag doll. 

Then there was the soft sound of blows landing against a stomach. Then the crunch of a broken nose. The wheezy rattle of the realtor’s breath once he started spitting up blood and teeth. Each punch made you flinch until finally, it relented. 

“Should’ve let her go, asshole.” Gator’s knuckles were bloodied, and you realized he was holding out a hand to help you up. You took it, nervously, and readjusted your costume where the realtor had tugged at them. “You hurt?”

You shook your head. “I’m fine but is— I mean, is he gonna be okay?”

Gator’s brows furrowed as he spared a glance toward the bloodied pile of meat on the floor. He spat in his direction and shrugged. “Who fuckin’ cares? Goddamn lowlife.”

You wondered if he could sense the irony. His face lit up in recognition, then he knelt beside the realtor, patting him down, searching for something. He stood and held up a fancy, monogrammed leather wallet. 

He sifted through, retrieving bill after bill. “Here. Y’earned it.” It was more cash than you brought home in a week. More cash than anyone should carry on themselves at once. 

“I’m not taking that,” you said weakly. “I can’t.”

He rolled his eyes, tucking the money in your bra. “Such a fuckin’ bitch, you know that? Can’t even say thank you or nothin’.”

He left you standing there over the broken body of the asshole realtor, who may or may not have been dying. Either way, you figured the Tillman’s would handle it. For better or worse.

  “I didn’t fuckin’ do anything,” you argued, which was a lie. And it’s not like anyone would listen even if it wasn’t. Police are on their way, they said. They’ll deal with thieving filth like you.

Well… they didn’t have to get quite so personal. You sat outside the Manager’s office at the stupid fucking sex shop, picking at your cuticles until you heard the police cruiser roll up outside. You heard the door slam, and muffled chatter until you saw him walk in.

“Well… look who got herself into some trouble. And here of all places too.”

Fuck. Gator Fucking Tillman. 

You glanced up at him for a moment before returning to your nails. The shop owner was talking the deputy’s fucking ear off until you heard the question you dreaded. 

“What is it she was tryin’ to steal? I mean… there’s a lot to choose from, I’ll tell ya that.”

You watched with a thin sense of dread as the shop owner laid out your would-be haul of lingerie that had been stuffed into your purse. Gator grinned as he glanced over at you, then back at the lingerie. 

“Can I have the office? I need some privacy to interrogate the perp.” The manager complied, bending to the will of the law or whatever. Gator grabbed you by the arm and tugged you inside, closing the door firmly behind him. 

You watched as he strode towards the nice armchair behind the desk, then sat down, legs spread wide. He unzipped the stupid police vest and shrugged it off, so it landed in a pile on the floor. For a moment, it was quiet as you stared at him dumbly, then he snapped his fingers. 

“What? You want me to tell you why did it? Three fucking guesses.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “No, I want you to try it on.” 

You swallowed, and when you spoke your tongue felt dumb and heavy. “What?”

“You heard me. Try it all on, and tell me if it was worth the trouble.” He looked at you expectantly, and when you didn’t move, he sighed. “It’s this, or I take you to the station, get you booked, and all that. I doubt anyone’s gonna pay your bail, so that’s a few days before arraignment. Then it’s a court case for larceny, and let’s be honest, you’re guilty.”

You stared at him, speechless. He stood up suddenly, grabbing his things before you interrupted— “Wait! Wait. Just… sit back down.”

He grinned. “There’s a good girl. Make it good for me, yeah? You know how.”

You huffed, heart pounding as you grabbed the first set and turned around to change. You had just pulled off your shirt when he cleared his throat behind you. Your hands shook as you turned around, barely covering your tits. 

“C’mon, I said to make it good, Sweetheart,” he said with a thinly veiled sense of amusement. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

The fucking asshole. But you took a breath and steadied yourself. “Okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything. 

His gaze was intense, tracing each curve and dip of your body as you moved. You slipped the bra on, clipping it shut with shaking hands.

“Alright, now you can turn around,” he said, nodding towards the panties in your hand. “And do it nice and slow for me.”

Your face burned with embarrassment as you turned around, working the buttons of your skirt so you could slip it down your legs. It fell into a pile around your ankles and fanned out like a flower. You hooked your thumbs into the panties you were wearing, pink with little flowers spotting the fabric. As slowly as you could manage while terrified and pissed, you slipped them down your legs. 

When you spared a glance at Gator, he was smirking right back at you. “Give those here,” he said, holding his hand out expectantly. 

“What?”

“Geez, you’re fuckin’ dumb. Lemme see ‘em.” He more or less snatched the panties from your grip, smiling like the cat who got the cream as he held them up. “Might have to keep ‘em. Evidence.”

You swallowed down your annoyance and pulled the lacy panties up your legs. When you were finished, you turned, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Shockingly, he was quiet as he looked at you, eyes raking over your tits, and every bare piece of skin he could see. It felt like you stood there under his gaze for hours before he finally spoke up. 

“It’s not doin’ much for ya, sweetheart. I mean, you don’t look very fuckable.”

It landed like a blow to your gut. He was an asshole, so it should’ve meant nothing… but he knew exactly where your soft spots were, and just how hard to dig his fingers in. “Fuck you, Gator.”

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” he cooed, patronizing and smug. “So fuckin’ sensitive, huh? Can’t take a joke. C’mere, lemme see you.” He grabbed your wrist in the tightly packed office and tugged you forward, so you practically stumbled on top of him.

You flinched as his hand moved up the back of your thigh, warm and calloused. When he gave your ass a rough squeeze, you closed your eyes and shivered. 

“Ya know, I saw your husband the other day.” His finger traced along the name on your hip— Jack. Every loop and whorl of the cursive claimed by his touch. “Looked real happy with that girl of his. Sarah, right? The waitress he was fuckin’ behind your back?”

You swallowed hard and said nothing, but he was more than happy to keep running his mouth. “Well, she’s not special. I’ve fucked Sarah too, and she just laid there like a dead fish the whole time.”

“Maybe you just weren’t that good.” You smirked as you replied, unable to resist being a bit of an asshole right back. 

“You gettin’ smart right now?” He gave your ass a quick slap, making you squeak. “I was trying to give you a compliment, but you don’t fuckin’ deserve it. You’re so fuckin’ used up that you don’t even know what good is.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure you think that. It’s easy to blame it on the girl when you can’t make ‘em cum, right?”

His jaw clenched, anger painting his features. “Wouldn’t you fuckin’ like to know, huh?” He caught sight of the smirk on your face and shoved you back. “Put on the next one.”

Fucking dickhead. You rolled your eyes and quickly stripped off the lingerie, throwing it in his general direction once it was off. You weren’t as graceful in dressing in the next set. Why give him a show and let him win? Once it was on, you crossed your arms and looked at him expectantly. 

“Well?”

He cocked his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, I like it better than the first, but I don’t think your heart’s quite in it. Gimme a twirl.”

You gave a slow turn, then met his gaze again, raising a brow. He ran a hand over his mouth, looking you up and down. You caught the slightest movement as he spread his legs a little wider. It only served to highlight the bulge in the front of his stupid fucking cargos.

“You’re really enjoyin’ yourself, huh?” You snapped, eyes narrowed. He laughed, following your gaze to his lap. 

“Well,” he began, lazily moving a hand to cup his growing hard-on. “I could always find a way to enjoy myself more. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

You ignored him and began trying on the last set you’d attempted to steal. A bright red set, skimpier than the others, which you were sure he fucking loved. Before he could ask, you gave a slow twirl. 

“Atta girl,” he cooed. He was blatantly stroking himself over the fabric, eyes half-lidded. You swallowed hard, watching the sight before you. It was like something out of a bad porno. Or a really good one. Jury was out. He patted his thigh, nodding you over. “C’mere, I won’t bite.”

A moment of hesitation passed through you, wondering if this was really what you wanted. It was like you could hear his voice in your head, asking if you could do any better. You sighed and slowly settled onto his lap. He looked at you with a funny sort of expression— not so much that he was smug, just… a bit pleased. 

“You gonna give me a dance?” His hand rested on your thigh, fingers tapping erratically. You shook your head and he rolled his eyes. “Is this ‘cause I didn’t pay the other night?” You scowled. “I mean, I think you owe me now. I paid ya back a hundred times over thanks to Mr. Realtor from the other day.”

   You stayed silent and still, looking anywhere but his face. He took your chin between his fingers and turned you to face him, so close you could taste the fruit flavor from that goddamn vape on his breath. 

“Remember how turned on you got just from havin’ my cock in that pretty mouth of yours?” He said, voice barely above a whisper. He ran a thumb along your bottom lip, tugging at it slightly. “I still remember the way you had to slip a hand between your legs to play with yourself.”

You made a weak sound in the back of your throat as you remembered it— that desperate, all-consuming need. Maybe it’s because he was an asshole, or maybe it was all of the authority. Maybe that’s why you shoplifted anyway. Because you knew he’d be the one to show up. 

“You ever been with someone as big as me before?”

You shivered. “No.”

A wide smile spread across his lips. “Since?” You just shook your head. “Betcha been dreamin’ about it too. Stuffin’ that greedy little pussy full of your fingers whenever you think about me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t quite deny it. It wasn’t a frequent fantasy, but it was there. “You’re a real narcissist. You know that?”

He grinned. “That’s not a no, is it?” He leaned in closer, nuzzling against your throat, his breath hot. “Bet if I slipped my hand inside those panties, they’d be fuckin’ soaked.”

And despite your better judgment, you fucking whimpered. All but confirming it. 

“Yeah, I thought so,” he cooed. His hand found purchase on the small of your back, and when he applied the smallest bit of pressure, you found yourself giving in. Slowly, your hips ground against his, making a soft sigh escape your lips each time your cunt met his clothed dick. 

“Want me to find some music?” He asked with a boyish grin. “I bet I have Pony somewhere on my phone.”

You shook your head before he could even try to grab it. “I’ll kill you if you even try.” He laughed, just a bit. It was rare to hear him laugh and have it not be at your, or anyone else’s expense. 

You grabbed his hands, moving them to your waist, just at your ribcage. The tips of his fingers brushed against your tits, and he smiled.

“Takin’ charge now, are ya? You could’ve just put ‘em right here.” He moved his hands up, cupping your breasts in his large hands. You moaned softly as he gave a slight squeeze, arching into his touch. “ See? That’s much better, huh? Just take what you need, baby. I’ll give it right to ya.”

Take what you need? You could do that. You moved your hands along his chest, fighting the urge to just tear off his shirt and reveal the white tank top you knew he always wore beneath. Instead, you slipped your hands to his goddamn cargos and made quick work of the button and zipper. 

He sat back and watched as you spit into your palm, his eyes hazy with arousal. You slipped your hand inside his pants and slipped beneath the band of his plaid boxers. A low groan escaped his lips when you wrapped your hand around him and squeezed.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Just like that.” His head fell back, leaving the plane of his neck for the taking. Your lips pressed against the skin there, leaving a mixture of soft kisses and bites as you worked him in your hand. 

Gator’s stamina was absolute dogshit. You could tell when he was close from the way he’d pulse in your hand and whimper like a fuckin’ girl. You’d just have to squeeze him at his base to stave it off, give him a few seconds to cool off before you kept going. 

“You want me?” You asked, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. 

“So fuckin’ bad.” He was bucking up into your fist, chasing the sweet pleasure of your soft hand around him. 

A smile spread across your lips. “Then earn it.” You pulled back, meeting his gaze as you removed your hand from him. 

He sat there, panting and staring dumbly as you sat atop the desk and spread your legs invitingly. “C’mon, Gator. You’re a smart boy, you’ll figure it out.”

He huffed with annoyance as he stood, towering over you as he pulled off his shirt to reveal that fucking tank top. He leaned down just slightly, so his arms were caging you in. “I’ll fuckin’ earn it, alright. I’m gonna own this pussy by the time I’m through.”

He knelt between your legs, kissing his way up your thighs. You cried out as his teeth dug into the plush skin, leaving an indentation that would probably turn purple the next day. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ asshole.” He just grinned, clearly pleased with himself. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties and tugged them down. 

He was quick to drag his fingers through your slit, coating them in your arousal. The wet sounds of him playing with you, spreading you open for him, made your cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

“I’m an asshole, but you clearly fuckin’ like it, huh?” He said, holding up his fingers, glistening with your juices, as proof. His smirk made annoyance and arousal bubble up within you, tangling in an utterly infuriating way. “Relax for me, yeah? Gonna stretch you out, make you feel real good.”

You moaned softly as his fingers pressed against your entrance, teasing you with the idea of being full. A gentleman would start off slow, work you up to two fingers gradually. Gator Tillman wasn’t a fucking gentleman, but you didn’t care. 

“Shhh… open up for me,” He said, speaking not to you, but to your cunt. “That’s it, atta girl.” A low whimper escaped you as his fingers pressed inside, thick and stretching you just right. Your walls fluttered around the intrusion, needing him deeper, more, more.

“Jesus Christ, Gator,” His fingers flexed at just the right spot, making you cry out desperately. He grinned, then pressed a kiss to your thigh as he began fucking you with his fingers, acutely aware that the slightest twitch of his fingers could make you fucking sing for him. 

It’s a funny thing he does with his fingers— not quite jackhammering them in and out like most of the other guys you’d been with but not exactly too far away. And you were fucking whining for it, your hips canting against his fingers until he finally had to throw his arm across your pelvis to just, in his words, keep you fuckin’ still.

It felt good, but you were also very aware that he was purposefully, or, worse, unknowingly avoiding your clit. The more you considered it, the more convinced you were that it was the latter. He was homeschooled, apparently, by his religious nut father, which meant his sex ed was probably just porn, and not even the decent kind. 

You squirmed slightly. “Gator—”

“’M busy.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed. I mean, sure, he was good with his hands, but you would also appreciate that skill applied elsewhere. Whatever, you weren’t helpless. 

His eyes narrowed as you moved a hand between your legs, circling your clit in time with his fingers. Your head fell back as a string of moans escaped your lips. That’s what you needed. 

“God, you’re desperate,” he muttered, but he didn’t bother to redirect your hands. “I coulda done that.”

You would’ve laughed if you weren’t already so close, the pressure and attention to your clit exactly what you needed to fall over the edge. 

“I feel you squeezin’ my fingers,” he said, voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Wanna cum that bad, huh? Can’t even take what I give ya? Are you that fuckin’ needy?” When you didn’t think to answer, he leaned over and bit your thigh again. Harder.

“Fuck!” You shouted, annoyed that you’d have a second set of bruises to cover. But your annoyance melted right back into the siren call of pleasure. 

Moans tumbled from your lips before you could bring yourself to answer. “Yes, I’m that needy,” You gasped as his fingers moved deeper, harder with every thrust in. Your fingers moved faster on your clit, making your legs twitch on either side of Gator’s shoulders.

He let you teeter there on the precipice for a little longer, until you were sure you were going to tumble straight into sweet ecstasy. So close you could taste it, sweet and heady on the back of your tongue. 

And like that, Gator pulled away, slipping his fingers from your cunt and leaving you wanting. You sat there, panting and frustrated as he wiped his fingers off on your thigh. “Too fuckin’ bad. Bend over.”

He slapped the side of your thigh as he stood and looked down at you expectantly. Your legs wobbled as you stood in what little room he provided you, tits brushing against his chest for just a moment as you turned and bent over the desk. 

“Isn’t this a pretty sight?” He grabbed your ass, kneading the plush skin roughly before landing a rough smack. You winced at the sting as you spared a glance over your shoulder. He landed another slap on the opposite cheek, then spread you apart with his thumbs. “You’re fuckin’ killin’ me, you know that?”

He was quick to free his cock from the confines of his cargos and boxers. Over your shoulder, you could see the heap of clothes he’d made on the floor. In the back of your mind, you noted the very careless way he treated the gun in his thigh holster, but said nothing. It was hard to focus on improper gun handling when he had his length in his hand, stroking it slowly as he took in the sight of you. 

“You’re gonna pull out, right?” You asked, chewing your lip as you looked at him.

He rolled his eyes, the tip of his cock notched right at your entrance, making you arch against him. “You’re such a fuckin’ bitch. I’m not stupid, I’ll pull out.”

The prettiest groan escaped him as he rocked against your cunt, coating himself in your dripping arousal before the head of his cock nudged at your entrance. 

“You want me?” He asked, his breath coming in pants. Your body felt like a fucking live wire, hyperaware of the feeling of him, just barely outside of where you craved him.

You nodded. “Uh-huh. I want you. So bad, Gator.”

He sank into you, nice and slow, so he could relish in the warm, soft feeling of your walls around him. A sappier man would’ve said it felt like heaven. Gator wasn’t sappy. 

“Goddamn, you’ve got the tightest fuckin’ pussy,” He managed once he’d bottomed out, every inch of him fully sheathed inside. “Forget what I said about you bein’ used up.”

What a gentleman. You whined softly, pushing back against him to silently beg for more. He put a hand on the small of your back and pushed down so your back arched even more. Then he fucked you in earnest. 

The noises you made should’ve been illegal— some form of indecency or something. Loud and whiny, desperate for more. Your nails scratched at the laminate of the desk, seeking something, anything to hold onto for purchase as he fucked you within an inch of your life. 

He was so big you could’ve sworn you felt him deep in your stomach, even though you knew physically that was impossible. Each thrust punched out a keening moan from your lips, a swear, a breathy whine, or just his stupid fucking name over and over again. 

He reached a hand beneath you, so his rough fingers could play with your clit. “This is what you wanted so bad, yeah?” He asked, voice breathy as he quickly rubbed your clit. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Gator.” You were practically babbling. Thank you thank you thank you. 

Over your shoulder, you watched him using your body, chasing his high. Every slap of your ass was for his own gratification, just to see it jiggle. He was only rubbing your clit so he could feel you squeeze him even tighter. 

You didn’t care. You fucking loved it. Even as he manhandled you, lifting your thigh and placing it on the desk so he could fuck you deeper, you just laid there and took it like a fucking champ. 

“Woulda fucked you sooner if I knew it’d be this good.” His voice wavered slightly with the effort it took to maintain the relentless pace he had set. He slapped your ass hard, making you yelp and clench around him. 

What you’d said earlier was right— you were needy. You rocked back against him, meeting him with each thrust. The sounds of his hips hitting your ass with each thrust were nearly as pornographic as both of your moans. 

Gator didn’t shut up most of the time, but when he was buried inside of you he could mostly only manage pretty moans. 

“F-fuck, sweetheart. You’re… you’re really workin’ for it, huh?” His words were interrupted by low moans and grunts. “C’mon. Give it to me.”

He let you do most of the work, rocking back against him, making you fuck yourself on his cock. And he looked fucking smug about it too. 

The switch snapped suddenly when he grabbed your hips and fucked you without abandon, skin slapping against skin as he roughly bullied himself inside of you again and again. 

“That’s it. Just lay there and take it, sweetheart.” His voice was breathy and strained. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Fuck! That’s it. Just like that.”

He came suddenly, thrusting deep and hard as he spilled within you. It annoyed you that he looked pretty when he came— his mouth ajar, eyes fluttered shut, his body trembling just slightly. 

And then you were annoyed because he fucking lied. He pulled out after he had ridden the aftershocks with a few shallow thrusts and quickly redressed. 

“You didn’t pull out,” you said, your voice was strained with annoyance and anger as you looked back at him. He was getting dressed, making sure he looked alright. He didn’t even care to get you off. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shrugged, trying to appear unbothered by it all. But you saw the annoyed tick in his jaw, the anger beneath it. Like a rattlesnake all coiled up, ready to strike if you made the wrong move. You were never on equal terms. You were no better than prey. And you should have known better, right?

Annoying, hot tears welled on your lashline, and you prayed to any higher power that he wouldn’t notice as you wiped at your eyes. You stood, doing your best to redress in silence, doing your best to remain small. He slapped a fifty on the desk and you flinched. “Buy some Plan B if you’re that fuckin’ worried about it. Jesus Christ.” He paused as he reached the door. “I’ll tell the manager we got it all sorted out. Isn’t that good enough for ya?”

You stood there, unsatisfied and used, with his cum leaking out of you, and stayed silent. It wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t anything at all. 

You walked out with fifty dollars, streaked mascara, three sets of lingerie you’d throw in the trash, and a newfound desire to get the fuck out of Stark County. And, maybe, some misplaced hope that next time might be different.

#it's here it's finally here #gator tillman #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman smut #anyways if you read this pls like and leave a comment idgaf if you reblog truly just wanna know if u enjoyed <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as abuse, gore, blood, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your marriage is marred in misery with no escape in sight... until he shows up at your door. (Part of the Illuminate AU)

Characters: Adam Warlock

Note: I hope ya'll like this one. I know it's a new and not so popular character.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The bin crashes down into the shrapnel of plastic and trash littered across the kitchen tile. Shane kicks an empty yogurt cup as you stare down in futility as the mess. If he didn't insist on the cheap bags, they would tear so easily but you're not stupid enough to say so.

"I work all fucking day and come home and you want me to take out the goddamn trash! Now look!" 

You gulp, batting your eyes at him, paralysed in fear. You can't make your body move. You should grab a new bag and clean it all up, insist that he go sit down and you'll do the work. He doesn't give you a chance for all that as he lunges at you.

You step back on your heel with a squeak, caught around your neck as he spins and swings you around with him. He hooks a foot around yours, bringing you easily to your feet, bending you over the stinking potato skins as your arms shake. You fight to keep him from mashing your face into the garbage.

"And where's dinner? What am I supposed to eat? Maybe you should swallow this all up and you'll realise the sort of bullshit I gotta come home to," he snarls, "stupid fucking bitch."

“I’m s-sorry,” you croak, throat scraping as you try to swallow a sob, “I’ll… I’ll clean this up–”

“Damn right you will,” he barks and jerks you as he rips his grip from your neck, “useless…”

He kicks a plastic tray at you before he stomps off, leaving you to stare at the mess. You sit back on your heels, quivering, and exhale slowly. You shift and reach behind you, opening the cupboard under the sink to retrieve a new bag.

You peel it open and gather up the garbage, piece by piece, focusing on the task as you ignore the odor and the occasional moisture that smears on your hand. As you get it tied up, you stand, choking on your tears as they spill out unstemmed. 

You sneak out the back door and carry the bag around the side of the house. You keep your chin down, hoping your neighbours don’t witness your despair. You come up to the gray bin and lift the lid, shoving the bag inside and letting it close with a thunk.

You grab the handles and wheel it away from the siding, the large container rattling as you force it along the uneven grass and onto the walkway. The wheels bounce on the cracks in the pavement and you stop to pull open the white picket fence, paint flaking away beneath your touch.

You continue on and guide the bin to the curb, letting it rest there as you sniffle and try to shake away the last of your weeping. You can’t go back inside like this. If he sees you crying, it will only make him angrier. 

You look across the street at the other houses; they’re all nicer than the rundown rental you share with Shane. Where the leaves are strewn in a layered carpet across the mulch of your lawn, the others have the autumnal canopy neatly raked into piles. When you asked for him to grab the rake, his answer was especially bruising. So you’ll see if you can’t get to it tomorrow.

You sigh and turn on your heel, squeaking as you nearly collide with another. You didn’t hear or see the man approach. There was no shadow in his approach, no footsteps scuffing to warn you. You press yourself to the bin as you look up at him. Your chest compresses under some unseen force as the air is forced from your lungs.

You try to apologise for your carelessness but your lips can only form the singular stutter, ‘s-sorry’ as your voice is trapped in your breathless throat. You stare at the man. It’s almost as if he had been waiting for you to turn around.

The leather jacket, the patch sewn on the left-side of his chest, the cool confidence of his posture, they all assure you of who he is. Of the danger he carries with him. You blink up dumb, waving in front of your chest as you try to eke out a single noise, pleading with him not to be angry.

His pale blue eyes twinkle as his smiles, a soft crinkle beside his eyes as the dimming night limns his long face. If Shane saw you standing here with this man, of any, he would lose his mind. You have to get back inside. You have to get away from this stranger.

“No sorry,” he says, his voice rocky but not unkind, “I am in your way.”

He slowly steps aside, retreating as he goes to rest his hand on the post of the white picket gate. He waits expectantly, waving you within as his smooth, deliberate movements fill you with dread. There is a carelessness in him which betrays fearlessness. You will never know what it’s like to not be hounded by inexorable dread. It both irks you and scares you.

You make yourself move. You cross the sidewalk and enter through the open gate, as he looms over you. His gaze is hot on you, clinging and suffocating. Your heart hammers with adrenaline. If there is anyone you fear more than Shane, it is these men and their black leather shadows.

“Have a good night,” he says as he pulls the gate shut between you, “I hope whatever makes you sad does not keep you awake…”

You can breathe again. You gulp in air and fold your hands in front of you. You turn to the man and nearly gasp. There’s something eerie in how he lurks, in how he is both draped in shadow but shines among it.

“Good night,” is all you can get out.

“No moon,” he says as he draws his hand away from the wooden post, “it will be a good night for rest.”

He puts his hands in the deep pockets of his leather jacket. His breath fogs around him, billowing over his shoulders as he strides through it. You watch his silhouette as he departs, his footsteps make no noise and the night seems to close in around him until you can see him no longer.

You shudder and hug yourself as you back up. You turn, fighting a tugging that tries to keep you outside. You head back between the house and the fence as a chill creeps up your spine. 

Your stomach pits as a sudden desolation overwhelms you. You feel hollow and heavy, as if you could collapse right there. You can’t, you have to make dinner. You won’t get much sleep if Shane goes hungry.

🌑

Shane leaves at the usual time. His shifts at the factory are your only escape. They don’t always feel like that as you spend the hours worrying about his return. About what mistake he’ll find when he gets home. So your time is spent still keeping him happy, though you’ve never managed that.

Along with the endless list of chores come those thoughts. Those regrets and questions of how it ended up like this. On when he started to hate you. On when you decided to accept that.

You pull on one of his flannel shirts and a pair of jeans. You dig out some gardening gloves from the shed and take the rake with you as you put your mind to clearing the lawn. The autumnal air is crisp but fresh. It’s almost refreshing.

You come out to the front of the house, starting at the walkway, clearing it of the leaves, brushing them onto the grass. From there, you drag the teeth of the rake away, pushing the growing pile towards the corner of the fence. 

Sweat beads on your forehead and dampens beneath the layers of clothing. You huff out a thick hot breath into the cold air. The briskness sneaks down the back of your collar and chills you.

“The winter is close,” the statement startles you from your work.

You plant the rake and grip the handle, facing the figure outside the fence. It’s the same man. Your lips part but you can’t say a word.

“Can you feel it?” He asks.

Your jaw chatters. His eyes fall to your lips as you try to hide it. He steps forward and sets his hands on the points of the fence, leaning in.

“It’s colder when you are alone…” he says.

You furrow your brows and shake your head, “I am not…”

You look back at the house and he chuckles. You turn back to him and bring your other hand to the wooden rake handle. He considers the leaves on the ground with interest. He pushes himself straight. He seems taller than before.

“Are you not?” He asks cryptically. “This is a lot of work for only one.”

You shrug, unsure how to answer.

“I can help.”

Your mouth is dry and your tongue is sticky. You make yourself talk.

“I don’t know you…”

“Adam,” he says pointedly, “my name is Adam. Tell me your name, then we will know each other.”

You speak before you think. As if you didn’t have a choice. Even if reluctance needles at the back of your mind, knowing that Shane would not want you to speak to this man, your name tumbles out as if you owe it to the stranger. Adam.

“Beautiful,” he remarks as he nears the fence, reaching over to the clasp, “let me help.”

“N-no,” you drag the rake with you and catch the gate as he lifts the latch, “please–”

“You must rest,” he shows his palm in a strange gesture, sweeping it in front of you, “you are dizzy and feel unwell. You need to sit down.”

Silver stars speckle in your vision and you feel the world shift under your feet. You look down and clutch the rake tight, feeling as if you might fall over. You let go of the fence and take a step back as you touch your forehead.

“I am… lightheaded,” you admit, confused at how suddenly it come upon you.

He pushes the gate inward and enters. He shuts it with a gentle metal clink and grips the rake above your hand. You recoil, letting him have it as your limbs grow heavy. He leans the tool against the fence and turns to you again.

“Please,” he puts a hand on your arm, the contact filling your head with smoke, “sit down, bunny.” He ushers you to the front steps and helps you sit there. He braces your shoulders and bends over you, “you will not move until I bid.”

You look at him, confused but comforted by his touch. You nod. He pulls his hands away, caressing your cheek before he stands straight. You shiver and hug yourself.

He lingers as his zipper cuts in the air. He shrugs the jacket off his shoulders and swings it around you, the smell of leather surrounding you. He tugs it snug around you and retreats. You can’t help put pull it tighter as another scent tickles your nose; him.

His boots mulch across the leaves and grass and he grabs the rake. He resumes your work, easily heaping up the clutter, the steady scrape of the tines easing you. You look up and watch him. He is unbothered by the cold despite the thin cotton of his black tee shirt. His muscles tauten beneath the fabric as he works.

You feel sleepy as the pale sky blurs around his stark figure. You’re hypnotised by his steady motions, his easy strength. A strand of his golden hair falls forward as he focuses on the ground, gathering up the leaves with diligent care. Your lashes cling to each other and your eyelids itch. 

You hug the jacket closer and dip your nose behind the collar. The weight of fatigue settles over you and coaxes your eyes shut. The rake continues to scrape in your ears even as you sink down into oblivion.

🌒

You wake to blackness. Dark lines trim the corners of the room as slowly your vision lifts to a dull gray. The night stares in through the windows, frosted with the slow creep of winter. The wind howls and rattles the pane in the frame. The cold looms outside like a spectre but does not enter.

You are warmer. Too warm. Your body heat enshrines you beneath the quilt pulled to your chin. Despite your want to escape from the stolid cocoon, you do not move. A languid weight keeps you at peace despite your discomfort.

You’ve never felt like this, so calm. There’s a dull tapping at your skull that tells you to worry, to be afraid, but it’s quickly smothered and forgotten. Why should you be? You are home and safe in bed.

You let your eyes close and hum. You just want to sleep, to slip away and never wake up. You drift, mind skewing as if you’re floating on a tide. Then it swells and crashes over you with the dark growl that seeps in through the wall.

Your breath hitches and your lashes snap open. Your ears itch as you listen, trying to hear through the plaster. There are soft, muted murmurs but nothing discernible. You quiver as you hang in the limbo; do you stay or get up?

Slowly, you bring your hands up and pull the quilt away from your face, peeling it with effort past your chest. Cool air sweeps over you, urging you to nestle back beneath the patchwork. You hear it again, like a beast it grits deep through the air, gravelly and harsh.

Sitting up is difficult. That same dizziness blurs your mind. You squeeze your eyelids shut and bid away the echoing auras. When you look again, the world is steady. You stand without reaching for the lamp. You wade through the darkness like quicksand, each step impeded by unseen bounds.

At the door, you wait, hand on the knob, brass cold to the touch. You inhale and taste the air wafting in around the frame. It’s sharp and frigid. 

You turn the knob and lift the door on its hinges. You peek down the hall, it’s dark but for the orange flicker glowing from down the hall. That house, the place you call home, the walls you could etch from memory, is suddenly strange and sinister.

You let go of the door and tiptoe out, the voices drawing you in. The conversation garbled in your fuzzy ears. It isn’t until you get closer that you can make out the words. That you recognise the familiar tones.

“What.. are you… waiting for?” Shane’s words are interspersed with moist gulps and groans.

A snicker, short and stony. There’s little humour in the laughter. Adam replies, “justice.”

“You…criminals are all the same,” Shane utters through laborious breaths, “bunch… freaks… like you… should leave… this town.”

“We own this town,” Adam says, “there would be nothing but dirt if it wasn’t for us freaks.”

A hork and the wet splat of spit on the floor jolts you. You stop just before the doorway, shuddering as you hesitate and look back down the hall. You can go back to bed and hide. If you do, you might wake up and realise it’s all just a rotten nightmare.

“Come on, bunny,” Adam calls to you.

You spin back, finding yourself still alone with only the lip of the wall between you and the flickering amber light. You put your hand on the plaster and your other on your chest. He cannot mean you.

“I hear you,” he says evenly, “we’ve been waiting for you.”

You put your foot out and slowly reveal yourself. You turn and face the room from the doorway. You see the single taper burning on the mantel and the tall shadow beside it. Adam lurks with his straight-shoulder but slack posture. 

There is another, in one of the wooden chairs from the dining set, slumped and held up by knotted leather belts. You can see only the back of Shane’s oily black hair. You come forward, eager but terrified to see more of him. 

His right eye is swollen shut, a cut weeping beneath, and his lips dribble blood down his chin. He leans forward, kept upright only by his bounds. His breathing is rickety and shallow. He looks at you with his left eye and grunts.

“...bitch…” he mutters under his breath, “slut…I always… knew…”

“Ah ah ah,” Adam tuts and makes himself taller. Shane flinches and swallows loudly, choking on his split and blood, “you mustn’t value your tongue very much.”

Adam reveals a long dagger, the orange glint of the candle reflecting off of it. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before. The metal is both dark and gleaming, a perfectly forged fuller down the middle of the blade.

You turn as you stand transfixed by the sight of your husband. Only then do you notice the scarlet leaking down the front of the wooden armrest, staining deep the veins of the wood. There are three fingers remaining on his right, and one less on his left hand. You cup your mouth behind your hand, catching a scream before it can erupt.

“Shhhhhh,” Adam hushes as he presses himself to your back, “I only had a sampling…”

“What have you done?” You whisper as you gape at the ruin of the man before you. His clothing is shredded so that it reveals the long gashes on his chest and the slices down his thighs. “Why…”

“The strong should protect the weak, not harm them,” he bends and nuzzles your hair, “but more, the weak are not helpless.”

“I don’t understand…” your eyes sting as Shane clenches his jaw and glares at you. How often you saw that same glimmer in him. That sheer hatred that made you wonder if he ever loved you.

“You understand,” Adam’s hand trails down your arm and he pulls you around. He presses the handle of the dagger against your palm and closes your fingers around it, “you know exactly what must be done.”

“Please, I can’t…” you whimper, “you… you hurt him. You’ve…” you look at Shane again, “how could you?”

“I could have cut his heart out by now,” Adam sneers, “but I do not own that.” He squeezes your hand, “it is not mine to take.”

“What…”

“I know what he does. He will not stop. Not until you are dead,” Adam insists as he raises the dagger, his hand still around yours, “or he is.”

He drags you towards Shane and aims the tip of the blade at the slouched man’s chest. He holds it there as you shake, whining as you try to free yourself. His strength is unbending and unbroken. He puts a hand on your back, gripping you tight as he keeps the dagger steady.

“I cannot free you, you must do it yourself…”

You close your eyes. This must be why the townsfolk whisper of the men in leather. Why they scatter at the sight of them. Murderers! Monsters!

“Please–”

“He has made you weak,” Adam purrs into your hair, “I have come to make you strong.”

“No–”

“Yes, you must,” he growls along the rim of your ear, “remember all he has inflicted on you. The names he’s put upon you; bitch, slut, useless, nothing…” he hisses as his hand crawls up to your neck, “how he broke your nose on your wedding night.” 

Your heart races, pounding in your ribs. How could he know that?

“How he put your hand on the lit burner when you forgot to buy milk,” he continues, your shaky grasp tightening as your tears crest and fall free. 

“Or how just the other day, he would have rubbed your nose in garbage like an incontinent mutt–”

“Stop!” You cry out, “stop! How do you know–”

“I know a beast when I see one,” Adam turns his head, his cheek against your temple, “I know a rabid one should be put down before it can maul again.”

“But… but… I love him,” you sniffle.

“Do you?” He lets his hand fall away from yours but you don’t rescind your reach, you don’t move the dagger away from Shane, “does he love you?”

You know he does not. He never did. You were only ever the stupid girl who fell for him. You realised too late what he really was and now you were trapped for life. 

You would be miserable with him until the day you died. Not because he loves you, but because he loves to hurt you.

The tip sinks through the flesh without resistance. You're stunned as you do not stop yourself from letting it further, from pushing it through the layers of fat and muscles, leaning into it until you can’t force it any deeper. You watch the steel bury into him as blood spurts out around your hand and sprays up your sleeve. 

Shane does not scream. He cannot as you pierce his heart. His head falls forward and his body goes limp. You keep a hold of the hilt and jerk it as try to wrench it even deeper.

Your hand is slick with his blood and slips off. You raise a fist instead and hit his lifeless shoulder. You hit him again on the head, another strike to his stomach, and a kick for good measure.

You bring your hands up and look at your blood stained hand, your other palm streaked with flecks of his death. You heave and try to scream but you cannot. You collapse to your knees and keel over onto your elbows. 

You should cry but you cannot. Your tears evaporate as grief eludes you. It should hurt. Why doesn’t it hurt? You’re not sad, but you’re not happy. No, you are free.

The floorboards creak and you raise your head as Adam kneels beside you. He touches your chin as his other arm slings around you. He pulls you to him and presses his lips to your temple.

“They will find him,” he caresses your cheek as he speaks, “but they cannot take you if you are with me.”

“Take me?” You ask dumbly.

“They will call you murderer, they will lock you up,” he coos, “I will keep you safe, bunny.” He dips his hand back down and nudges your chin up. He looks down at you, eyes shining silver in the candlelight, “I will keep you happy.”

#adam warlock #dark adam warlock #dark!adam warlock #adam warlock x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #illuminate #au #werewolf au #series #marvel #mcu

[obscureblorbofics]

Dracula and Chill (NSFW)

Foxy Coltrane x gn!reader

18+ only! Minors be gone!

Summary: reader goes on vacation to Mexico with friends and meets Foxy in a bar.

Warnings: smut, mention of Foxy being a serial killer (does it really need to be said? If you've watched the movie you already know), alcohol

Length: 3.5k words

(For the purpose of the fic, reader is American and AFAB)

-----

Your phone rings.

"Any chance you'd want to go on vacation with us next month?"

Alexis had been your friend all throughout high school and was trying to set something up with a few friends so you could catch up without the pressures of work or responsibilities. You think for a second before responding back.

"I have some vacation time saved up. Let me know when and where"

"Durango, Mexico. Not the most interesting place but it's cheap and it'll definitely be a nice change of pace for a week. Thinking February 16th to the 23rd. Brooke already said that week is free for her and I'm still waiting for a response from Ryan"

You check your calendar, seeing nothing pre-planned to stop you. You put the call on hold and call your boss to ask about getting that week off. He makes note of it and tells you to have fun.

"Yea I'm free that week. Need to get my passport updated before then but we should be good"

The plane lands, jolting you awake. The drunk bachelorette party a few rows in front of you woops and hollers rowdily. You look to Alexis, who had mentioned a headache a mere 20 minutes into the flight. You offer a sympathetic glance, to which she responds with a smile. You grab both of your carry ons out of the overhead bin, handing her hers and checking on the row behind you that contained the rest of the group. The four of you exit the plane and go through the usual post-flight bathroom breaks.

After everyone is out and accounted for, the group heads to the rental desk and goes through the process of renting a car. After maybe about twenty minutes of driving, you come upon the shabby little hotel Brooke's uncle owned and had left to her cousin upon his death.

Once checked in and settled in your rooms, the four of you leave to get dinner. You find a little restaurant nearby and order food.

Dinner conversation is mostly tame and what you'd expect from the group. Alexis commented on how Brooke's cousin flirted with her when offering the group a discounted rate. Ryan tells the group about scoring his dream job that he'd be starting in April. Brooke showing everyone pictures of her son and talking about how motherhood has treated her.

The next morning the group of you set out sightseeing in the city nearby rather than stay in the small town for the whole time. Once you head back, Ryan has an idea.

"I saw a bar not far from the hotel. We should check it out. Might be interesting" he shrugs and you all agree it's worth trying.

The four of you make your way to the bar and order your drinks. They're out fairly quickly, and you get to exploring the place. There's a few rowdy men throwing knives at a particle board target, some women who seem to be there mainly for the purpose of getting laid and not much else, a few isolated groups of patrons, and the trio at the other end of the bar. They're all roughly middle aged, but the blonde woman with them has the energy level of a teenager. She seems to be the life of the party in the bar.

The two men with her, however.. The older one seemed irritated at the woman's antics, clearly trying to pick up a woman at a table nearby. The other one was attractive to say the least. Tall and lanky, with longish honey brown hair and blue eyes. You'd always had a thing for older men. And he was looking straight at you. His face broke into a smug grin and he winked before bringing his attention back to the other people he was there with.

You take this as a sign to get back to your friends as well. You tune back into the conversation, noting it to be about everyone's college experiences. Not much for you to add. You finish your drink up only to see another slide in front of you once you put the empty one down. You arch an eyebrow in a silent request for explanation. The bartender shrugs and points to the end of the bar. At the man you were just observing. He gestures for you to come over.

You let your friends know you're going to look around some more and 'socialize with the locals' as you so put it, before slipping away and joining the stranger.

As soon as you approach him, he gives you the same shit eating grin as earlier. "Hey sweetheart, come here often?"

You roll your eyes at the cheesy overused line. "First time. Vacation with friends. What about you?"

He shrugs. "Been living in the area 'bout 3 months. Not much to do 'round here" He pauses for a moment. "Oh where are my manners? I'm Foxy."

You offer a weak smile at his introduction. "I'm (Y/N)."

He smirks. "Lovely name for a lovely person. Mind sticking around a while?"

"I don't see why not."

He offers you a chair and you sit down.

The two of you talk for what seems like hours before Brooke approaches you. "We're heading back to the hotel. Here's the spare key to the room whenever you're ready." She drops the key in your hand and you stash it away in your pocket.

Foxy takes a look behind him real quick. You notice the other people he was there with are gone. "Well. It looks like Otis and Baby ditched. How bout you join me and we ditch too?"

You agree and he pays off your tab for you, throwing an arm around you and guiding you out of the bar. After walking down the street for maybe ten minutes you come upon a modest building. The other man from earlier, Otis you presume, is sitting in a lawn chair with a beer. He notices the two of you and waves at Foxy but says nothing.

Foxy holds the door open for you, and swats at your behind as you enter.

You take a look around, checking out your surroundings as you head for the couch. Nothing too out of the ordinary besides the large number of weapons either openly out on display or poorly hidden. To be fair you did hear about some gang activity nearby so it couldn't hurt to be cautious if you live in the area.

He sits down next to you. The two of you talk about backgrounds for a while. You find out the people he was with earlier were his siblings. Otis you had seen on the way in and Baby was out doing who knows what. He mentions being really into classic movies and having amassed a fairly large collection of them. You offer to watch one with him if he didn't mind and he leads you to the bedroom.

The inside of Foxy's bedroom is exactly what you'd expect. Old movie posters on the wall and a large hunting knife on the nightstand accompanied by several empty beer bottles. You sit down on the bed and he puts a VHS tape in the player before sliding into bed next to you. Once the movie starts you notice it's the original Dracula.

About twenty minutes into the movie Foxy wraps his arm around your shoulders and you instinctively lean into him. You don’t take your attention off the movie to look at him, but you hear a low chuckle beside you.

After another half hour or so a hand makes its way to your thigh. You ignore it at first, but then it slides higher and begins to squeeze, so you glance over at the man beside you. Same shit eating grin you’ve come to associate with him.

“Well don’t look at me, babydoll. Pay attention to the movie.”

You cautiously obey, not sure where this would go, but certainly not mad at the development. A minute or so of squeezing and rubbing your thigh later, he goes for your pants button. You turn back around to say something about it, but he quickly stops you, shushing you gently before replying in the same cocky tone that got you into this situation to begin with.

"I said focus on the movie. Don't mind me havin’ a feel."

The second he says that, you feel his hand slip into your underwear. He uses the arm still around you to move you into his lap. His fingers make their way down, checking for evidence that you’re enjoying this as much as he is. He drags his fingers through the wetness he found there, bringing them up to play with your clit. At first he was gentle, barely touching you. Ghosting over where you wanted him most and teasing you experimentally to see what made you gasp and squirm. He figured this out rather quickly, judging by the way you were panting and squirming and trying to close your legs around his hand.

You lay back into his chest and feel him hard and poking into your back. This somehow makes you even wetter. He gets you right to the edge but when you're about to cum, he backs off.

Foxy waits for you to cool down before he begins again, filling this time by placing soft kisses all over your neck. You moan and tilt your head to give him better access.

Once he deems it safe to continue without you finishing too soon, he moves a finger down to your entrance. It stays there for a moment, gathering you juices, before he easily slides it all the way in. You gasp and grab onto his thigh next to you. Your legs begin to shut again on their own accord, but he holds them open, making sure you can’t move away. He pumps it in and out experimentally, waiting until you calm down to add a second. His fingers curl up inside you, perfectly hitting your g-spot. When he figures out he found the right spot, he rubs it in soft circular motions. Your eyes flutter closed and he stops.

“Watch the movie. It’s almost over. Wouldn’t want you missin’ the ending, now would we?” Foxy flashes you a toothy grin and you try to focus on the screen.

He starts again, and you’re careful to keep your attention on the movie rather than Foxy. You only really have to hold out another ten minutes before the movie ends and the screen fades to black. As soon as the movie is over, he grabs your throat, squeezing just hard enough to be pleasurable.

He pulls his fingers out of you and cleans them off in his mouth.

“Damn, doll. You taste good. You should have a taste.” and with that, he kisses you. It’s sloppy and dirty, but still soft enough to be enjoyable. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and he’s right. It is good.

You get off his lap and stand up to take your clothes off. He watches closely as you expose more and more skin.

Foxy jumps up and joins you, quickly throwing his shirt off and unbuckling his belt. He rips his pants and underwear down his legs and pushes you down on the bed. His hand cracks down on your ass and your hips jolt forward, away from him. He cackles like a madman at your reaction and slaps the other side with just as much force. This time you’re expecting it, and it actually feels good. So naturally, you lean into his touch.

“Dirty little thing, aren’t ya?” You nod, rubbing your thighs together to try to get some friction. “Ya want some more?” You nod again. “Gonna have to ask me nicely.” You whimper out, trying to muster up a singular brain cell to give him a coherent response.

“P-please Foxy. Please give me more.” you stutter out shakily.

“Gladly.” He rapid fire gives you six more slaps before grabbing and squeezing your ass. It stings and you can feel the warmth radiating from your flesh, but you can also feel how soaking wet you are. So can he. You feel the head of his cock slipping through your wetness. You try to push back on it, desperately needing filled up. His grip on your hips stops you in your tracks.

“Patience, sweetheart. You’ll get it soon. I like to have a little fun first.” He takes the next few moments to slowly, torturously tease you with his cock before he finally lines up with your pussy and pushes inside. He lets out a deep pleasured groan directly into your ear. You moan at the feeling of finally being stretched open. It’s been a while, and Foxy is giving you exactly what you need.

“Damn, dollface. You feel so good. Might have to keep you around just for this.” He rolls his hips a few times experimentally, figuring out what you do and don’t like, and which spots to hit to make you writhe beneath him. Just like with his fingers, he finds it quickly and you moan, definitely louder than you should've considering there are other people in the house, but you’re too focused on the pleasure Foxy is giving you to think about anything else. He grabs your hip with one hand, and the other goes down to rub your clit. The room is full of the sounds of his hips slapping against your ass, your wetness squelching around his cock, and the combined noises from both of you and that ambiance is more arousing than you would’ve thought. After a few particularly hard thrusts and his hand that was previously on your hip making its way around your throat, you feel yourself begin to get close. The hand around your throat squeezes enough to make your vision start to blur and it intensifies everything you're feeling in a way you’ve never experienced before.

“Foxy, yes! Don’t stop!” You cry out, feeling your orgasm moments away.

“That’s it. Cum for me, sweetheart”

Your orgasm hits, and it’s blinding. You’re vaguely aware of Foxy groaning beside your ear and a warm feeling spreading inside you. He fucks you through your orgasm before pulling out and rolling to collapse beside you. You crawl back up into the bed and he follows you. Your head makes its way to his chest, sweaty bodies slightly sticking together in a way that would otherwise seem gross, but in your post-coital bliss is endearing. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall asleep in your comfy embrace.

The next morning, you wake up, naked, in an unfamiliar place, using someone’s stomach as a pillow. You look around and remember the events of last night. Finding someone at the bar. Going home with him. Watching Dracula. The sex.

You quickly get dressed and sneak out of the house, walking back to the hotel. You unlock the door to the room you’re sharing with your friends, and they're having breakfast. Brooke glances up to look at you, and laughs.

“Ooh the walk of shame. Assuming things went well with mystery man from the bar last night?”

You nod, looking anywhere but her. “I’m going to go shower.”

That night, the group decides to go back to the same bar, reasoning that they had decently good drinks and were reasonably close to the hotel, so they could get drunk without worrying about having a designated driver.

The group orders their drinks and finds a table. Not long after sitting down, Ryan elbows you in the ribs to get your attention.

“Hey (Y/N), isn’t that your guy from last night?”

You cautiously turn your head to look in the direction he’s gesturing to and see Foxy with his siblings that you briefly met yesterday. Otis and Baby, you think. But of course you weren’t focused on too much other than him.. And that damn movie he wouldn't let you look away from. You nod.

“You should go talk to him” Alexis encourages, quickly catching onto the gist of the conversation.

You shook your head. “Nah. I figured it was more of a one night stand than anything else.” The thought was tempting though. He was cute, great in bed, and from what you knew you got along well with him. But he lived here and you were just on vacation. You had to go back home in four days. Better not to get too attached to people you meet on vacation.

However, across the room, Foxy was debating the same thing. Hook ups were nice and all, but sometimes he got greedy, wanting more than the limited connection allowed by one night of sex. He had explained his dilemma to his siblings. Otis laughed, accusing him of going soft on them, then suggesting he just kidnap you. That wouldn’t work. They had just built a decent life where no one would be looking for them, it wouldn’t be good to ruin that because he wanted pussy.

Baby, however, was a little more sympathetic to his situation and had better advice than kidnapping. She suggested that he just talk to you. To lay the charm on thick the way he was known to. He thought about it for a moment, before concluding she wasn't wrong. It was at least worth a shot. So he got up and started heading for your table

The conversation had moved on from what you did last night to what your former high school classmates were up to now. Ryan’s eyes widened slightly, and you didn’t have time to ask why before a set of hands settled themselves on your shoulders.

“Damn, sweetheart. Didn’t even wake me up for a proper goodbye?”

You blushed. Apparently the decision of whether or not to talk to Foxy again had been made for you. Your friends immediately started paying attention to the two of you, deeming this much more entertaining than what they were previously talking about. You, however, didn’t really want to have this conversation with an audience. So you got up, telling Foxy you wanted to go somewhere more private to talk. He agreed, and led you to the bar’s patio area.

The two of you sit down at a table outside and discuss the things that happened last night. How you liked the movie. How you liked what happened during and after. Why you left without waking him. He found a piece of paper and scribbled his phone number down on it, hoping you’d at least stay in contact for the rest of your vacation. You shoved it in your pocket with the key for the hotel room, making a mental note to call him later. Then he drops the line you were hoping to hear, but unsure if you would. He wanted last night to happen again. So did you. So it did. You actually waited for him to wake up before leaving this time and were rewarded with some nice morning sex. That happened two more times before you had to leave.

Once back in the states, you had maintained loose contact with Foxy. Of course a good majority of your phone calls would end in phone sex, but getting to talk to him was always nice, long distance fees be damned. One night, you’re on the phone with him while you make dinner. The news is playing on the TV in the background, and you're only barely paying attention to it. But the one time you do look over to the TV, you drop the phone in shock. Three mugshots are displayed on the TV with the information that there’s been a search for them for several months. One of them being Foxy, and the other two being his siblings that you’ve come to be acquainted with during your visits to their house. You knew they seemed familiar for a reason. You scramble to pick up the phone and put it to your ear to catch Foxy asking if you’re still there and asking what happened.

“You’re.. You’re on TV” you manage to whisper out.

“Aw fuck, babydoll. This isn’t how I wanted you to find out” He then briefly explains what all happened and asks if you’re going to try to turn him in. Your mind however, is somewhere completely different.

“Wait.. your name is actually Winslow?”

“Yeah.. really doesn’t fit me too well, does it?”

“I absolutely get why you go by Foxy now.. No offense, but Winslow is an unmoanable name if I’ve ever heard one.” you chuckle, completely unfazed that you’re talking to a serial killer. To you he’s still Foxy, the guy you met in a bar in Mexico, and got a little too attached to.

“To answer your question, I’m not going to turn you in. This won’t change much. Besides, I always did have a thing for bad boys”

#winslow foxworth coltrane #foxy coltrane x reader #winslow foxworth coltrane x reader #3 from hell #foxy x reader #foxy coltrane smut

[hellenhighwater]

What's a bin bed? You mentioned it with the tomatoes and I am intrigued.

Also thank you for all the Truancy pics they always light up my day.

Because of the way that my small lot is mostly covered in the shade of enormous, 150 year old trees, the only place with enough direct sunlight for veggies to thrive is on my driveway in front of my garage. It's a big concrete pad, so there's room for it, but obviously I couldn't plant directly there and I didn't want to do some kind of permanent raised bed.

So instead what I have is probably one of the lowest-investment, easiest methods of gardening. It's six cheap plastic tote bins, each with a few holes drilled into the sides a couple inches from the bottom. (Not actually in the bottom, mind you. Putting your drain holes on the sides lets some water stay in the bottom without letting things get soggy.)

The bottom six inches or so is sticks, some leaf down, and crappy regular dirt. Mostly just there to fill space and hold water. The top part is raised bed soil, compost, and coconut coir (mostly because I'd bought some cheaply in brick form and had it available.) Depending on weather and heat, I water these daily or twice weekly--mostly if I see the plants drooping, I go water them.

I'm growing LOTS of tomatoes, and my black bell peppers, chili peppers, and black chilis are starting to fruit. The carrots in the other two beds were planted on the fourth of july and should be multicolored and ready to harvest by fall.

If you're in an apartment or a rental and have a balcony with good sun, try doing this! It's been super easy, and I've had almost zero problems with pests or weeding.

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #7:

Art Garfunkel's Watermark,

Special Melted Edition!

Good news, people. I traveled to Portland and hit one of their dollar bins last week, emerging victorious with 10 or so new-to-me titles for a grand total of $32, and all of them are candidates for future posts. Everyone's been clambering for my take on Art Garfunkel and Bob "whoops, I just shaved off my eyebrows" Geldof, right? Please?

We'll get to good old Artie Funk in a moment, I promise. I'm sure he has a huge international following who gather in silent support every time his entire limo gets arrested for way too much pot smoke, but all you Garfolks need to just take a chill pill for a minute because there's some bad news to follow my good news, the kind of bad news that will leave you crying in your beer. (Stop reading right now and go get some beer to cry in if it's not already in hand.)

Dear reader, I left those Portland Dollar Bin records in my rental car during my trip, figuring it was all good because, after all, I was in Portland. But when I visited my stack three days later, I found the following Gertrude-chugging-the-poisoned-wine level tragedy had occurred:

Take the rag away from your face friends; now's not the time for your tears. The record above is a $1 copy of a soundtrack by Luna's Dean Wareham for a Noah Baumbach movie I'd never even heard of beforehand called Mistress America starring Barbie's very own Greta Gerwig. Nice title, Noah! What's the sequel called, Senorita Canada?

I like Sideshow by the Seashore as much as the next guy and I still remember the bizarre but edgy decision to lay Street Hassle over the climax of The Squid and the Whale so I figured $1 was a very safe investment for the soundtrack. But reading just now that the Financial Times finds that a "neo-screwball" sequence in the movie "exemplifies the film's themes of love, art, and betrayal" makes me want to melt Baumbach's entire face, so I'm no longer too broken up about the record's destruction.

Having just read that previous paragraph, my famous brother, who's surely interviewed Dean, is no longer crying in his locally sourced organic sour beer; rather he is silently cursing my woeful ignorance while hitting speed dial for Greta at the Barbie Dreamcastle so as to swiftly disassociate himself from The Dollar Bin forever. Sorry bro!

But let's move now to the real tragedy in this saga. Do you know how many vinyl copies of Fairport Convention's Live at the L.A. Troubadour are currently for sale on the internet? (We are not talking about House Full here, people, we are talking about the original release.)

Two copies. Two. Total.

That's right, while there are surely 6.4 million copies of Catch Bull at Four out there to be had, there are just two copies of Live at the L.A. Troubadour available in the whole wide universe. But last weekend I found a third one in Portland, one that no one has played or even looked at in its 50 years of Dollar Bin dwelling. That third copy was good as new and it cost $12. $12! That'll buy you half a Michelada at a Dodgers game; so finding that record and getting it at that price was as lucky as picking Mike Piazza in the 498th round.

And what did I do with this coveted find? You already know.

I melted it.

Bury the rag DEEP in your face, because I basically melted Mike Piazza. What kind of shlub am I? Next time you invite me over for drinks, don't pour me the good stuff because I'll just spill it all over your birth certificates, your Picassos and your tiny children's handwritten thank you letters, complete with heart drawings, for grandma. Rather, serve me a cheap domestic and give me a bib.

This is only my second experience with music melting. How many have you had? 25 years ago I left a CD copy of Mule Variations in my Ford Tempo and returned after a full day of work to find that the whole thing had turned into a flame broiled platter of creeping destruction. What the hell was I building, you ask? Melted Music, I respond. I was bummed back then. But that was nothing in comparison to last weekend's woe.

But I promised you good news, and more good news is coming! Firstly, my famous friend Greg's frig, located outside of Portland, was full of Miller High Life, The Champagne of Beers. So I had some.

Secondly, I soon discovered that the lower down I went in the record stack from the car the less melting had occurred.

And guess what was located far enough down to still be playable without any audible disruption? Live at the Troubadour! Sure, watching it go around on my turntable is like watching my cat try to shake off her fleas but I plan to never sell a single title in my Dollar Bin and I know that when my children inherit my dumpster of a collection they will cherish it forever and probably never even notice that my Troubadour record looks as sloppy as my t-shirt collection. So what the hell do I care?

Okay, at this point the Art Garpeople who joined this blog just to hear my thoughts on Watermark, Godfunkle's 1977 third outing as a solo artist who neither wrote songs nor played an instrument, are demanding my immediate destruction. I guess I'd better talk about the record.

So let's drop the needle already!

Uh-oh. Either Watermark is a big deal, unlistenable concept record (like Pink Floyd's The Wall) about bobbing about on the deep seas of regret, troubled water all about and nary a bridge to be seen, wherein Artie shakes his famous high tenor and the whole band way down to deepest bass every fourth syllable OR my copy of Watermark was higher in the stack of Portland heated mutilation and is now warped to the point where Gargie's version of a What a Wonderful World unintentionally sounds like What a Woooooooonderfil World.

(Yes, I mean what I said just now about The Wall. Bob Geldoff shaving his brows in the film is the best thing to say about the whole thing; Roger Waters, post Animals, makes Stephen Stills sound like a reputable songwriter.)

But relax, all you Artie G fanatics. I will ease your mi-i-ind. I'm not going to judge Watermark based on my very wavy copy. So cool your jets, adjust your giant perms and trust me. I promise to buy a second, unwarped $1 copy of Watermark and write all about it, asap.

Before we go, I must sorrowfully report one final tragic occurrence from this whole sordid episode. While hunting the Dollar Bin in Portland I had my eye out for Stephen Stills records. The fact is that at some point I need to place my entire, rapidly blossoming reputation as a Dollar Bin influencer on the line by actually listening to entire Stephen Stills records. If they are good, I'm finished. So, sadly, I've got to go out and buy some.

But the Portland store I visited, ridiculously, had marked its more than a dozen copies of Stills 2 at $2 each. Memo to the store: no one wants Stills records at $2 a pop. Ever.

The tragedy here is that I did not find any of our favorite villain's records cheap enough to buy, so I did not proceed to place them on the top of the stack in my rental car, thereby melting them out of existence. Thus the world is still saddled with copies of Stills 2.

Next time I melt music I promise to do so more thoughtfully.

(P.S. If you are still reading this, please know that my school year just started and so my pace of posting here will surely slow. My goal is to write once a week and I really do appreciate you letting me ramble. Hunting in The Dollar Bin requires your patience!)

#art garfunkel #fairport convention #stephen stills still sucks #noah baumbach #greta gerwig #pink floyd #bob geldof

[faequeentitania]

I am just having the shittiest of shitty Augusts.

Accidentally left my toll pass transponder in a rental car; called the next day, told "Oh car is in the shop for maintenance, I'll call the garage and find out and call you back." Was told this FOUR TIMES over the course of a week, by FOUR DIFFERENT EMPLOYEES, AND NOT A SINGLE PERSON CALLED ME BACK. Finally get back to my home state where I can go there in person, and of course it's "Oh yeah, sorry, they said they don't see it in the car." Oh yeah? Then how come it pinged for a toll YESTERDAY. Clearly someone fucking has it!! So I had to report it missing and pay a fee to get a fucking new one.

Then I accidentally left one of my Beetlejuice cups from the Broadway musical in my hotel room after check-out. Realized it THE SAME DAY, and was still in the area, so I went back to the hotel to get it. "Oh yeah, sorry, nothing like that was reported found by housekeeping." Oh really? Even though I know for a fact that it was left by the sink and was very very clearly a reusable drink glass with a lid and a straw? So either your staff was too lazy to turn it in and just binned it, or they decided they liked it and nicked it for themselves. Either way, not a good look, and I'm fucking pissed.

And of course now, I bought a cheap bass guitar to learn how to play because I'm a crazy person who doesn't have enough hobbies as it is, and literally within 20 minutes, as I'm trying to tune it, I accidentally knock the amp over and the cord completely fucking snaps at the input jack. BECAUSE OF COURSE IT DOES.

Whatever I fucking did to piss of the fae recently, I'm fucking sorry!!

#personal #ignore me #i'm so fucking fed up

[minibinstoronto]

If you have got garbage to dump, and looking for reliable bin rental services, MiniBinsToronto.ca is your answer. We provide mini bin rentals useful for home/office renovation mixed garbage disposal, and property cleanup. These mini bins are popular for soil, concrete and asphalt disposal.

Contact MiniBinsToronto.ca today for disposal bin rental in Vaughan.

#disposal bin rental Vaughan #garbage bin #waste bin #waste bin rental #bin rental #cheap bin rental #dirt bin rental #bin #mini bin rental #Mini Bin

[995junk1]

#Bin Rental Edmonton | Cheap Price - 995 JUNK

[bigbadwolfdemolitionperth]

Whether you're clearing the way for a new construction project or renovating your property, house demolition can be a significant expense. However, with careful planning and strategic decisions, it's possible to achieve a cost-effective demolition process without compromising on quality and safety. If you're looking to have a cheap house demolition in Perth, consider implementing the following tips and strategies to maximize savings while achieving your desired outcomes.

Research and Compare Demolition Contractors: The first step in achieving a cheap home demolition in Perth is to research and compare multiple demolition contractors. Reach out to several reputable companies and request detailed quotes for the demolition project. Compare the pricing structures, services included, and any additional fees to identify the most cost-effective option that meets your requirements. Don't hesitate to negotiate with contractors to secure the best possible deal while ensuring quality workmanship.

Opt for Partial Demolition: If your property requires only partial demolition, consider opting for selective or partial demolition instead of a full demolition. This approach allows you to save money by preserving structurally sound elements of the property, such as foundations, walls, or features that can be salvaged or repurposed. Discuss your options with demolition contractors to determine the most cost-effective solution that meets your needs.

https://www.bigbadwolfdemolitionperth.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Home-Demolition-Perth.png

Salvage and Sell Reusable Materials: Before demolition begins, identify any salvageable materials or fixtures within the property that can be sold or repurposed. Items such as timber, bricks, doors, windows, and fixtures may have value to other homeowners, builders, or salvage yards. Salvaging and selling reusable materials not only generates additional revenue to offset demolition costs but also reduces waste and promotes sustainability.

Obtain Multiple Quotes for Waste Disposal: Waste disposal costs can constitute a significant portion of the overall demolition expenses. To minimize these costs, obtain multiple quotes from waste disposal companies or skip bin providers in Perth. Compare pricing, container sizes, and disposal options to identify the most affordable solution that aligns with your budget and project requirements. Additionally, inquire about any discounts or promotions that may be available for bulk disposal or extended rental periods.

DIY Demolition for Non-Structural Elements: If you're comfortable with basic demolition tasks and have the necessary skills and safety equipment, consider tackling non-structural demolition work yourself. DIY demolition for tasks such as removing fixtures, fittings, or interior finishes can help reduce labour costs associated with hiring professional demolition crews. However, exercise caution and consult with demolition experts to ensure safety protocols are followed and structural integrity is maintained.

Timing and Scheduling Considerations: Timing can significantly impact the cost of house demolition in Perth. Consider scheduling the demolition during off-peak seasons or times when demand for demolition services is lower. Contractors may offer discounted rates or promotions during slower periods to attract business. Additionally, coordinating the demolition schedule with other construction projects or municipal initiatives in your area may result in cost savings through shared resources or reduced logistical expenses.

Obtain Necessary Permits and Permissions: Before proceeding with house demolition in Perth, ensure you obtain all necessary permits and permissions from local authorities. Failure to obtain proper approvals can result in fines, delays, or legal complications that may incur additional expenses. Work closely with demolition contractors to navigate the permitting process efficiently and avoid unnecessary costs associated with non-compliance.

Achieving a cheap house demolition in Perth requires careful planning, research, and strategic decision-making. By researching and comparing demolition contractors, opting for partial demolition, salvaging reusable materials, obtaining multiple quotes for waste disposal, considering DIY demolition for non-structural elements, timing and scheduling considerations, and obtaining necessary permits and permissions, homeowners can effectively minimize demolition expenses while achieving their project goals. With these tips in mind, you can embark on your house demolition project in Perth with confidence, calling Big Bad Wolf Demolition at [phone] knowing you've optimized costs without sacrificing quality or safety.

[businessarticlesclone]

Saving Money on Rent: The Top Cheap Apartments in Abu Dhabi

Abu Dhabi, the capital of the United Arab Emirates, offers a vibrant lifestyle, a booming economy, and a rich cultural heritage. For many, living in Abu Dhabi is a dream come true, but finding affordable accommodation can be a challenge. However, with some careful research and exploration, there are hidden gems in the city that offer quality living spaces without breaking the bank. In this article, we delve into the top Cheap Apartments In Abu Dhabi, highlighting their features, locations, and amenities to help you find the perfect budget-friendly home.

1. Understanding Affordable Housing in Abu Dhabi

Before diving into specific apartments, it's essential to understand what constitutes affordable housing in Abu Dhabi. The term "cheap apartments in Abu Dhabi" can vary widely depending on location, size, amenities, and other factors. Generally, cheap apartments in Abu Dhabi are those that offer competitive rental prices without compromising on quality and comfort. These apartments may be located in emerging neighborhoods or slightly away from the city center but still provide convenient access to essential services and amenities.

For more: Apartments For Sale In Abu Dhabi, Buy Budget Apartments In Abu Dhabi, and Real Estate Companies in Dubai.

2. Al Falah Street Apartments

Located in the heart of Abu Dhabi, Al Falah Street is a bustling area known for its affordable housing options. Here, you can find a range of apartments that cater to different budgets. These apartments often feature spacious layouts, modern amenities, and convenient access to public transportation, schools, malls, and healthcare facilities. The competitive rental prices make Al Falah Street apartments a popular choice for budget-conscious individuals and families looking for affordable yet comfortable living spaces in the city.

3. Mohammed Bin Zayed City Apartments

Mohammed Bin Zayed City is another area in Abu Dhabi known for its affordable housing options. Here, you can find a mix of apartments ranging from studio units to larger family-friendly layouts. The apartments in Mohammed Bin Zayed City often come with amenities such as swimming pools, gyms, parking spaces, and 24-hour security. The neighborhood offers a peaceful ambiance while being well-connected to major roads, making it convenient for residents to commute to work or explore other parts of the city.

4. Khalifa City Apartments

Khalifa City is a rapidly developing area in Abu Dhabi that offers a range of affordable apartments for rent. The apartments in Khalifa City are known for their spacious designs, modern finishes, and family-friendly environments. Many buildings in Khalifa City offer amenities like landscaped gardens, children's play areas, and sports facilities, providing residents with a comfortable and enjoyable living experience. The competitive rental rates in Khalifa City make it an attractive option for those seeking affordable yet quality accommodation in Abu Dhabi.

5. Al Reef Downtown Apartments

Al Reef Downtown is a vibrant community in Abu Dhabi that features a mix of residential and commercial spaces. The apartments in Al Reef Downtown are known for their affordability, especially considering the amenities and facilities available within the community. Residents can enjoy access to swimming pools, fitness centers, retail outlets, parks, and more, all within walking distance from their homes. The well-planned layout of Al Reef Downtown ensures convenience and a sense of community, making it an excellent choice for budget-conscious individuals and families.

6. Mussafah Apartments

Mussafah is an industrial area in Abu Dhabi that also offers affordable housing options. While primarily known for its commercial activities, Mussafah has seen a rise in residential developments catering to various budget levels. The apartments in Mussafah are often spacious and well-maintained, with some buildings offering amenities like parking spaces, security services, and proximity to schools and healthcare facilities. Despite being an industrial hub, Mussafah provides a quiet and affordable living environment for residents.

7. Affordable Living Tips in Abu Dhabi

In addition to choosing the right apartment, there are several tips and strategies to further save money on rent in Abu Dhabi:

Consider sharing accommodation with roommates to split costs.

Look for apartments in less central areas that may offer lower rental rates.

Negotiate with landlords for better rental terms or discounts.

Opt for longer lease durations to secure lower monthly rents.

Explore government-sponsored housing schemes or subsidies for eligible individuals.

Prioritize essential amenities and facilities to avoid paying for unnecessary extras.

8. Al Bateen Apartments

Al Bateen is a prestigious neighborhood in Abu Dhabi known for its luxury properties. However, within this upscale area, hidden gems are offering affordable apartments. These apartments often feature stunning views, spacious layouts, and access to amenities such as swimming pools, gyms, and private parking. While Al Bateen is known for its higher-end properties, diligent searching can uncover budget-friendly options that provide a taste of luxury without the hefty price tag.

9. Reem Island Apartments

Reem Island is a waterfront development in Abu Dhabi that has gained popularity for its modern residential towers and vibrant community atmosphere. While some areas of Reem Island cater to luxury living, there are pockets within the island that offer affordable apartments for rent. These apartments often boast waterfront views, contemporary designs, and access to amenities like waterfront promenades, parks, retail outlets, and dining options. Living on Reem Island provides a unique blend of urban convenience and coastal charm at reasonable rental rates.

10. Budget-Friendly Amenities in Affordable Apartments

One of the advantages of choosing cheap apartments in Abu Dhabi is the access to budget-friendly amenities that enhance your living experience without adding significant costs. Some common amenities found in affordable apartments include:

Swimming pools for relaxation and fitness.

Fitness centers or gyms for maintaining an active lifestyle.

Children's play areas for family-friendly living.

Parking spaces for convenience and vehicle safety.

24-hour security services for peace of mind.

Community spaces for socializing and events.

Proximity to public transportation for easy commuting.

11. Renting vs. Buying: Considerations for Budget-Conscious Individuals

While renting affordable apartments is a popular choice for budget-conscious individuals in Abu Dhabi, it's essential to consider the long-term financial implications and explore whether buying may be a more cost-effective option in the long run. Factors to consider when comparing renting vs. buying include:

Market trends and property values in Abu Dhabi.

Mortgage rates and financing options for homebuyers.

Maintenance costs and responsibilities for property owners.

Flexibility of renting vs. stability and equity building through homeownership.

Personal financial goals and lifestyle preferences.

12. Affordable Neighborhoods Beyond Central Abu Dhabi

In addition to the central areas mentioned earlier, several neighborhoods on the outskirts of Abu Dhabi offer affordable housing options:

Khalidiya: While traditionally known for its upscale properties, Khalidiya has pockets of affordable apartments that provide easy access to the Corniche waterfront and a range of amenities.

Madinat Zayed: This neighborhood offers a mix of residential and commercial spaces, with affordable apartments available for those seeking a more laid-back lifestyle.

Tourist Club Area (TCA): TCA is a bustling district with a mix of residential and commercial properties, including budget-friendly apartments suitable for urban living.

Al Muroor: Located slightly away from the city center, Al Muroor offers affordable apartments in a residential setting with access to schools, shopping malls, and healthcare facilities.

Conclusion

Finding cheap apartments in Abu Dhabi involves thorough research, understanding of neighborhood dynamics, and consideration of amenities and lifestyle preferences. Whether you prefer the bustling city center or a quieter suburban neighborhood, Abu Dhabi offers a range of affordable housing options that cater to diverse budgets and lifestyles. By exploring areas like Al Bateen, Reem Island, and affordable neighborhoods beyond central Abu Dhabi, you can discover the perfect budget-friendly apartment that meets your needs while enjoying the city's vibrant culture, amenities, and opportunities.

#Cheap Apartments In Abu Dhabi

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Top 15 Car Rentals Companies in Dubai

Introduction:

Dubai is a bustling metropolis known for its luxury, innovation, and lifestyle that merges the traditional with the ultramodern. It's also a city where the convenience of car travel is often preferred due to its expansive landscapes and vast distances between major attractions. For visitors and residents alike, renting a car can be the most efficient way to navigate the city. Here’s a detailed look at the top 15 daily car rental companies in Dubai, each offering unique services to cater to a variety of needs and preferences.

1 Renturdrive:

Renturdrive excels in reliability and diversity with its extensive fleet that ranges from economical to luxury vehicles. As an online platform connected to multiple car agencies, it provides broad access to various cars, ensuring a fit for any requirement and budget. Known for its excellent service, Renturdrive is a leading daily car rental company in Dubai. Services: Cheap Car on rent, Luxury Car on Rent, Daily Car Location: Level 702, Building 6, Emaar Square, Burj Khalifa Community, Dubai PO BOX 122347

2 Taycan Rent a Car | Near Dubai Airport:

Located conveniently near Dubai Airport, Taycan Rent a Car specializes in providing a seamless rental experience for travelers. Whether you're arriving in Dubai or preparing to leave, TAYCAN offers easy access to a range of vehicles right at the airport, ensuring that your rental process is as smooth and hassle-free as possible. Their commitment to customer satisfaction and quick service makes them a top choice for many. Services: Luxury Car on rent, Daily Car on Rent, Affordable Car on Rent, Location: Dubai Autism Center - Office # 107 - 5th St - Garhoud - Dubai - United Arab Emirates

3 OneClickDrive:

OneClickDrive makes car rental simple with its online platform that directly connects customers with rental agencies. Known for its extensive range and competitive pricing, it provides flexibility with rental terms from daily to monthly options. Services: Cheap Car on rent, Luxury Car on Rent, Daily Car Location: The Bayswater Tower - 1501 - Marasi Dr - Business Bay - Dubai - United Arab Emirates

4 Ready to ride | Car rental UAE:

Offering a straightforward and customer-focused service, Ready to Ride caters to clients looking for quick and easy car rental solutions across the UAE. Their service is designed for utmost convenience with a variety of vehicles to choose from. Services: Cheap Car on rent, Luxury Car on Rent, Daily Location: City Center - Dubai Shopping Center, Street No. 8 - near Deira - Dubai - United Arab Emirates

5 Dollar Car Rental:

With a reputation for affordability and a wide selection of cars, Dollar Car Rental is a preferred choice for both tourists and business travelers. They offer numerous convenient locations throughout Dubai, making it easy to pick up and drop off vehicles. Services: Cheap Car on rent, Luxury Car on Rent, Daily Car Location: Dubai International Airport Terminal 1 - Dubai - United Arab Emirates

6 Damas Rent A Car Dubai:

Damas is known for its excellent customer service and a wide range of vehicles, from luxury cars to budget-friendly options, ensuring a match for every customer's needs and styles. Services: Economy Car on rent, Luxury Car on Rent, Daily Car Location: United Arab Emirates - 37 15C St - Dubai - United Arab Emirates

7 Gold Star Rent-A-Car LLC:

Gold Star Rent-A-Car provides premium services and specializes in luxurious cars, catering to those who wish to drive in style while exploring Dubai or attending business and social gatherings. Services: Rent, Luxury Car on rent, Daily Car on Rent, Affordable Car on Rent, Location: Shop #1, Abdulla Ahmad Mohamed Bin Fahad Building - Dubai - Dubai - United Arab Emirates

8 Rent a Car Dubai AL Emad JLT:

Located in Jumeirah Lakes Towers, AL Emad offers a diverse fleet at competitive rates, emphasizing no-fuss access and convenience for renters looking for quality vehicles. Services: Luxury Car on rent, Daily Car on Rent, Affordable Car on Rent, Location: Shop G05 Ground Floor Platinum Tower I Cluster, JLT - Jumeirah Lake Towers - Dubai - United Arab Emirates

9 Shift Car Rental -Deira:

Situated in Deira, one of the oldest districts of Dubai, Shift Car Rental offers both short and long-term rental solutions with a fleet that includes the latest models, catering to a clientele that values modernity and reliability. Services: Cheap Car on rent, Luxury Car on Rent, Daily Car Location: 619a St - Dubai - United Arab Emirates - Dubai - United Arab Emirates

10 Avis Rent a Car-Jumeira Beach Residences:

Avis provides world-class services with a wide selection of vehicles at Jumeira Beach Residences. Known for their reliable and high-quality fleet, they cater to both tourists and locals needing dependable transportation. Services: Luxury Car on rent, Daily Car, Cheap Car on Rent, Monthly Car on Rent Location: A Office Plaza Level, Sadaf 7 P15 - Jumeirah Beach Residence - Dubai - United Arab Emirates

11 Uptown Rent a Car:

Uptown Rent a Car specializes in high-end luxury cars, perfect for those looking to enjoy a more sophisticated way to travel around the city or make an impression at an event. Services: Luxury Car on rent, Daily Car, Cheap Car on Rent Location: Empire Heights Tower B - R10 Al Asayel St - Business Bay - Dubai - United Arab Emirates

12 Udrive Car Sharing:

Udrive offers a unique car-sharing service that allows users to rent vehicles by the hour or day, accessible via an app. This service is particularly appealing to those who need a car for short durations or spontaneous needs. Services: Cheap Car on rent, Luxury Car on Rent, Daily Car Location: Concord Tower - King Salman Bin Abdulaziz Al Saud St - Al Sufouh - Al Sufouh 2 - Dubai - United Arab Emirates

13 eZhire:

eZhire revolutionizes the car rental process with an app-based system that cuts out the paperwork and reduces the time taken to book and receives a car, providing a swift and efficient service for users on the go. Services: Daily, Cheap Car on rent, Luxury Car on Rent Location: 3902 Burj Khalifa, Dubai Mall, Downtown, Dubai - Dubai - United Arab Emirates

14 Quicklease Car Rentals:

Known for its flexible rental options and a broad range of vehicles, Quicklease meets the needs of a diverse clientele with its commitment to convenience and customer satisfaction. Services: Daily Car on Rent, Luxury Car on rent, Affordable Car on Rent, Monthly Car on Rent Location: Al Raha Building - Ground floor, Shop # 18, Al Raha Building, Opposite City Max Hotel, Behind Mall Of Emirates - Dubai - United Arab Emirates

15 Superior Luxury Car Rental Dubai:

Superior Luxury Car Rental Dubai offers an exclusive fleet of high-end vehicles, catering to those seeking luxury and style. Their premium service ensures a memorable driving experience across Dubai, perfect for special occasions or discerning travelers. Services: Affordable Car on Rent, Monthly Car on Rent, Daily Car on rent, Luxury Car on ren Location: Warehouse 89 17A St - Al Quoz - Al Quoz Industrial Area 3 - Dubai - United Arab Emirates

Each of these companies provides a solution tailored to different driving preferences and needs, ranging from luxury and style to economy and practicality. Whether you're a tourist needing a car for a day or a resident looking for a longer-term rental, these top car rental companies in Dubai offer options to explore the city with ease, comfort, and style.

#dubai #car rental

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Rent a 25 yd.³ dumpster in Airdrie and Crossfield Alberta Canada

These are harder times, knowing the type of policies out there for us to endure, but we can still offer you some cheap bins. Payless Disposal, Inc. BINS:Crossfield , Alberta dumpster rental serviceWe are on the World Wide Web on Google, and Yahoo search engine. You can also find us on Bing.We have a ride that takes our dumpsters far and wide. We carry 6 yd.³ dumpsters, 12 yd.³ dumpsters, 15 yd.³…

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Explore the budget-friendly cheap skip bin hire solutions 

Are you planning to have a cost-effective waste management solution? If yes, cheap skip bin hire solutions are the best. The different sized skip bin sizes will accommodate all kinds of waste volumes. Certainly, it’s beneficial when it comes to pocket-friendly deals. Besides its competitive pricing, the rental periods are also enough so that you won’t feel like you are running out of time. 

#skip bins #skip bin hire