#pimp my picture

[destielrotsmybrain]

Awwww I just found a detailed drawing of Dean's gun in a book

#just me going through all the books at my gun club trying to find it #Dean and his pansy-assed engraved pimp gun #Let’s face it John knew Dean was into guys when he chose that thing at the gun shop #I really must borrow my dad’s Colt book #I have a feeling there would be some really pretty pictures of the Mark IV in it

[corvidaedream]

my john gray may after all be one that i ruled out really early on bc of something said by the editor of the digital edition of the adams papers that I took at face value (they refer to the situation as lendall pitts believing he was seducing "a young lady", so i just assumed that the most obvious john gray in town, a 58-year-old ropewalk owner, wasn't a good candidate based on age, but looking back the word "young" ONLY shows up in the editor's notes, not in the contemporary documents)

and the 58-year-old one i just saw described by a source not only as a ropemaker but also a merchant & customs collector. and these files from the court archivist list my john gray as a merchant, and lendall pitts initially looked for him for revenge at the customs house. the ropewalk is right by the scene of the assault.

there are still two younger John Grays in town i can barely find info about (one who died in 1805 and appears to have also been a merchant, and then one with no further info but all three show up on a town census, so there's at least three of them)

theres also the possibility thats brought up in the editor's notes that the man in the gown on beacon hill and the man, john gray, who got attacked the next day are not the same man, and the fellow on beacon hill may have only been "procured" by john gray. i have no idea what leads the editor to believe that, though. maybe the behavior of the court? similar court cases im unaware of?

#messages from the ouija board #cant keep johnny down 1771 edition #my mental image of this guy now has to shift to accomodate a much older man than i was picturing #the idea of john gray being a pimp for mollies intrigues me bc that makes it sound like theres more #in the witness statements lendall pitts is heard to refer to the person hes with as a 'very clever girl' so again that feels younger to me #idk! idk

[aladaylessecondblog]

Val is despicable but I'd pay a lot of money to own that fucking coat

eta: as a Raphael (of bg3) fan I always want to see him in that coat

#you wanna talk drip you look at that shit #it also lets you know what he is even if you dont know hazbin #you look at him and go yup you're a pimp arent you #i like how in literally any picture of val you dont even need to know who he is #valentino #hazbin hotel #my friend is still trying to get me into hazbin

[bkenber]

Interview with the Cast and Director of 'The Menu'

Interview with the Cast and Director of ‘The Menu’

“The Menu” is an inspired black comedy featuring an incredibly talented cast of actors who play characters invited to a remote island where celebrity chef, Julian Slowik, is preparing quite the cuisine for them. As the night goes on, however, the guests come to see that Chef Slowik’s intentions are anything but gracious as he looks to punish those who cannot take enough time to taste the food…

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#2022 Movies #Aimee Carrero #Alienworx Productions #Anya Taylor Joy #Chefs #David Fear #Executive Decision #Fox Searchlight Pictures #Gary Sanchez Productions #Grand Guignol #Hong Chau #Hyperobject Industries #John Leguizamo #Judith Light #Mark Mylod #Movie Interviews #Nicholas Hoult #Pimps Hos Playa Hatas and All the Rest of my Hollywood Friends My Life #Ralph Fiennes #Reed Birney #Restaurants #Rolling Stone #Satire #Searchlight Pictures #Steven Seagal #The Menu

[arlertwhore]

need more paige fics on here it’s criminal atp 💔🥲

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: paige invites her sneaky link to a team dinner, but she has an appetite for you.

warning(s): smut, dom paige, sub reader, more power play, pussy eating (p a munch), fingering, spit kink, mommy kink, nastiest public sex ever.

word count: 3.9k, if i read the estimate right.

author note: unedited - based off a request. ty sm for the love on my first post, it made me feel like writing this 🤍 I check every noti and read every comment!! enjoy, inbox open, yk yk. MINORS DNI

Paige wouldn't confess to it openly, but she knew her feelings for you had underwent a significant adjustment following your whole jersey stunt. She — nicknamed Paige Da Pimp by her teammates for her playboy attitude, was not the type to get smitten for girls, and especially not the ones she had just been hooking up with in a casual sense, but after photographing a memento of you in the jersey post-fuck to keep her sustained for her busy week away of back-to-back games, practices, training... etc, all that athlete jazz, she had come to the agonizing realization that it was the biggest mistake she had ever made. And if there was one thing to note about Paige, she HATED mistakes.

Although she hadn't seen it that way at the time, which was totally understandable since it was just a sexy photo, Paige knew she was acting brainless for what she did. You were cute, fucked well, really turned her on, and she liked you as a hook-up, but she knew better than to genuinely like people, girls, in a serious sense while committed to her career. It'd never work out, and it was something she was very forward about the first time you hooked up. Paige had taught you her many rules, making it clear that she was the one in control due to her media appearance. She expected the feelings aspect to be the other way around but had soon found herself blushing as her team teased her about you relentlessly for being her lock-screen and gawking at a TikTok of you, sharing your daily routine. Sure, Paige knew the lockscreen aspect might've been pushing it, perhaps another misstep, but it was faceless due to her penchant for privacy in your affair, and she used it motivationally for her jampacked week, not as a new means to stay fixated over you.

To the tall blonde, that pictured depicted the prettiest girl in the world wearing her jersey, a visual testament to the hard work and perseverance that had brought Paige to where she was.

So, the photo served as a reminder to keep pushing forward despite how difficult it got. Though Paige surely did like you, she was also very cognitively astute, and knew that whatever feelings she had unfortunately accumulated for you would automatically dismantle due to the demands and stress of her career. She might have panicked over her feelings if you guys had an upcoming visit, but since both of your schedules were full, it became a wait-it-out game where you had both been thinking of each other as you tended to your daily lives. Before her Tuesday game, Paige examined her lockscreen before tossing her phone and running onto court, kissing upwards of the arena, plausibly sending the kiss off into the sky, presuming it would fall wherever you were. The net had tried to decipher the action to no avail. You

were at work and witnessed the moment when it had occurred, so the kiss had been retrospectively received. The cycle repeated each day: you worked, studied on breaks, went to the gym late, then came home, and studied again. The sole reason you were able to remember Paige outside of all else was because you waitressed and they played her games on TV occasionally. It was cruel to think you had some good sex just a few days ago before being forced back to your life. Paige was your only escape and you both didn't have any time in the world to see each other. You couldn't shake the thoughts that with each missed day to spend, because you guys were casual, you were running out of time. Like she was going to leave and find somebody better and more convenient. It was mundane to say the least, but that all changed on Friday night. By the end of the week, Paige soon realized there'd been no point in hiding you from her team. Her fans, the media especially, sure, but you two weren't a secret amongst the knowledge of the team.

Some of them: KK, Azzi, Aubrey, and Ice had even spoken to you and met you three months back at the party, where you first met Paige. You were hammered out of your mind and ranted to them about how much you wanted Paige. They had all discussed how hilarious you were here-and-there after Paige gave you a chance. Paige herself had missed you greatly, so she figured it didn't matter if she invited you to a team dinner.

Her friends were inviting their friends too, and it wouldn't have looked weird if fans or the media noticed. So that's how you found yourself scrambling through your closet at 8 PM, clothes strewn around the room as you searched for your black dress, which was Paige's favorite color on you. You had hurried through your assignments on break at work and left early just to make it there, hating that Paige had sprung this on you randomly.

This is something one would need aforemention for; you had to be more perfect than usual. Hair, makeup, nails, dress, behavior—for crying out loud, you were representing Paige freakin' Bueckers, and that meant you couldn't be tardy or shabby in any aspect. You simply had to be PERFECT. You didn't wanna get replaced by someone more convenient for her, and you knew she had only made this gesture because she missed you: typical Paige wouldn't even consider bringing you to a team dinner, so you thought she was crazy for even offering, knowing this opportunity might not arise again if you didn't show tonight.

As you arrived, you could see the team and some other faces present at the grand table. Thankfully, you did look better than the guests, and even though you were aware, you were still incredibly nervous. Seeing Paige's face, giggling with a teammate sat across from her, was the only thing that kept your high-heeled cladden feet advancing, heart pounding senselessly in your chest. The fullness in the restaurant didn't make you feel better, and with all eyes on you, you felt they knew your secret. You were right: most of them did, and as you reached the grand table, the entire team glanced at you knowingly. The last time you saw them all was at the New Year's party three months ago, before the fact you acted on behalf of Paige. It was majorly awkward now, seeing them sober, knowing you had rambled to all of them, especially KK & Azzi, about how badly you wanted Paige. You being here proved Paige had made your dream come true.

"Get over here, weirdo," Paige called out, and at the sound of her voice, you chuckled, feeling the tension ease. After not touching her, tasting her, holding her—seeing her for what felt like years, you had yearned more than ever to kiss her, to do everything to her that you hadn't had the chance to do in the past week, but due to being in public, all you could do was hug like friends in-case others knew who she was and were recording. It was bumming. You engulfed her in a big hug, smaller arms wrapping around her toned body as you tenderly whispered, "Wanna kiss you so badly. Missed you so much, Peanut Butter."

Paige chuckled softly at your clever play on words, sighing, "I know, I know," as she caressed your upper back, cautious of moving any lower, "Thanks for gettin' it, angel."

You smiled, feigning contentment as you released Paige, mindful that your embrace couldn't linger for too long, lest it provoke any speculation. She kindly helped you remove your dress coat, like a gentleman, and allowed you to sit on the inner side of the booth, assuming her new spot on the outer beside you at your right. To your left was a girl whom KK had invited — she sat sorta close, but far enough at the perfect proximity for Paige, in one very swift movement, to place the coat upon your lap and rest her big hand onto your thigh behind the eyes of everybody else present.

The blonde leaned in, her breath warm against your ear and body pressed flush against yours as she rasped, "As long as they don't see, right?" hand inching up your thigh, her inflection, voice, and touch sending shivers down your spine as she stroked your inner thigh preciously. "Paige!" you growled quietly, "Get a grip—this is unlike you." Paige knew you were right. She was losing her marbles because she liked you so much and couldn't control herself for any longer after having to for an entire week. She needed to have you. It was a blooming sign of her ensuing limerence for you. And she just loved that look in your eye too, all high-strung and panicking at the mere touch of her fingers—it was intoxicating.

You screwed your eyes shut briefly as her middle finger pressed against your clit, lightly; barely moving, edging you. Exhaling deeply, you struggled to get your eyes open, forced to pretend nothing was happening as banter and conversation and laughter flowed around you.

Eventually, you knew you would have to join in, but right now, you were consumed by the sensation of Paige's touch. And when she jested, "Hey," lowly, the sound sent tons of slick oozing out of your wet pussy, igniting a fire within you that you couldn't ignore. Her long, delicate finger teased your little clit, sending waves of pleasure throughout the entirety of your body as you struggled to remain still, quiet, and maintain your composure.

It almost set you off when Paige's foot began to play with yours as she admitted, "I couldn't stop thinking of you all week," in this way of raw carnality and blatant desire you hadn't ever witnessed Paige showcase. It was just pure fucking, usually. A fuck that you didn't have to act totally sexy for all-the-time since it was just a mutual thing. This, whatever Paige was doing tonight, was something very different. Her words — "About how I'd get to touch you, taste you, and how your body would look and how you'd sound. Fuck," she says in a low grunt resemblant of pain. "I can't wait for you again."

Paige stopped briefly, and you didn't know whether to be thankful or upset, groaning out in response. Paige tutted thrice. "You aren't gonna look at me when I'm talking to you?" she chided. "Be a good girl, angel, use your manners so I can give you what you want." You were utterly bewitched by her words. Her touch. Her voice. Her body against yours. Her aura. She was just so captivating. Today, she had foregone her glasses, leaving just her raw, intense eyes to pierce through you. Clad in her post-game attire—a sleek black Nike Tech outfit, her hair styled in the signature front braids and ponytail—you couldn't deny the magnetic pull she had on you. You found yourself afraid to look at her for too long, fearing that the sheer intensity of her presence would send you over the edge. She almost did. You were right. When you looked at her, she smirked at you, locking eyes with you in a gaze that was indescribable. The way she looked at you had changed. "Just like that," she cooed, "Keep your eyes on mommy just like that." You let out a small whine, squishing your legs together to unwaver what felt like a climax. You felt like you were going to explode. Leaning forward, you took a second to recollect yourself as Paige's fingers continued to service you. Around you, the conversation was flowing, and as the head of her team, Paige easily inserted herself into it by introducing you to everybody. "Guys, I want you to meet Y/N L/N, Y/N L/N, the team and friends." Used to celebrating excessively, they all clapped for you, and Paige tapped your side with her free hand, urging you to sit up and be polite. You waved to everyone, adorning a smile that had taken every morsel of energy within you to present. "Long time no see, huh?" KK instantly began, "Let's hope you don't drink too much tonight and spill any secrets about how much you want Paige." Laughter filled the air, including yours. Relaxing against the booth, you tilted your head back, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as Paige's fingers began to intrude your entrance, their movements smooth and tantalizing, causing you to clench around them. "Don't gotta be lit to tell you, K," you giggled, diverting your attention to the conversation that had just begun, while also trying to ignore Paige's relentless fingers.

You just didn't know how she could do it so seamlessly -- her beautiful big blue eyes had managed to look utterly focused, absorbed in KK's story as if she hadn't been scissoring you open with purpose in each fervent stroke of her fingers into you. A contented grin was fixed on her face, seemingly listening to KK's recount of the first time she met you intently, but that was not the case whatsoever, and you two were the only ones aware. Paige rested her head upon your shoulder, her left arm hooking around your waist to grab her Shirley Temple, to take a sip.

She raised the glass, offering you a sip, and you disguised a moan in a hum when she began a come-hither motion against your g - spot, savoring the cold drink to assist in cooling down your rising body temperature. "You like that?" she asked, early not referring to the drink. Her tone was cunning, smirk suggesting she knew the effect she was having on you.

You managed a smile, maintaining your composure. "Mhm. I like it." you uttered, your voice resonating with an underlying force, each word carrying the weight of your struggle to sound controlled.

Thankfully, Azzi had interjected KK's story, prolonging it, and you anticipated that Azzi's sociable nature would keep you from speaking for a while longer. However, just as you expected the social buffer, a waiter approached for your order. Being a waiter yourself, you understood why she was there, and you blurted out, "Water," upon her arrival, eager for her to leave as quickly as possible. Fuck! you thought, That seemed bitchy. You resolved to tip her later to make up for it, but you couldn't have cared less in the moment. Your head was spinning; Paige's ring finger had begun to circle your clit precisely, at a steady pace, in a touch and speed you couldn't replicate no matter how hard you tried. Her middle finger had been gathering your wetness and smoothing it over your clit, intensifying the sensation, intensifying the situation.

"So then, besides this intro story, Y/N, why don't you tell us about yourself? You know, the real you?" Paige prodded, her tone laced with subtle encouragement, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes as she attempted to coax you into speaking. "U-uh," you stammered, clearing your throat, "studying at UConn." It's a line you're programmed to say regularly, especially at work when dumb college goons try to hit on you.

The prompt silence urged you to continue speaking, but you wanted to curl up and pretend to be asleep. Your hole clenched around nothing, and you tried to avoid looking at Paige, fearing you might cum on the spot like you nearly had earlier. Gathering your strength, you said, "I'm studying to become a nurse. I'm from the city just over, but I'm, uh, you know... just an average girl."

You, being at a dinner and getting finger-fucked wasn't just stuff average girls did.

Nothing was average about this dinner experience. Not even the amount of wetness you had accumulated, which had become so much that it began to trickle down your leg. To have the amount of need you were suppressing literally oozing out of you, you moan, an audible one, but mask it as a cough before raising Paige's drink to your lips, taking a sip, and then placing it down. You could hear Paige laugh hushedly from your side, relishing in the power dynamic. "My throat's so dry," you quickly add to compensate for the odd noise, hoping to divert attention away from your unintentional reaction. "Did the questionin' make you nervous?" KK teased yet again, her tone playful as she pointed out, "You're breaking a little sweat."

You wanted to jump for joy. Finally, you had an excuse to excuse yourself. "Oh no, am I?" you replied, trying to hide your relief. "Lemme go make sure my makeup's good, P."

Forced to stand before you could exit, Paige did, and as you rose to your feet, she made sure you saw the image of her fingers in her mouth, sucking your wetness off them.

This, combined with all you had just endured got you weak in the knees as you stood up and made your way out. The sensation of her touch lingered, leaving you feeling so worked up that you felt like you were going to implode.

You weren't even wearing any makeup. You rarely did outside of work. Inside of the bathroom, feeling rather empty, you briefly considered touching yourself but rendered that option pointless seeing as you wouldn't be able to satisfy yourself how Paige did you. You also always failed to replicate it too. Instead, to cool down your body and thoughts, you resorted to flushing your face with cold water. By the time you finished, Paige had appeared in the doorframe behind you, nearly as tall as it was.

"You got sick, I had to take you home, here's your coat," she said, recounting the tale you'd explain for leaving early, flinging the coat at you with a brisk motion, one of an athlete.

You caught it, but urgency pulsed through you. If she wanted to test you, you would test her. High heels clacking as you strode over to the taller blonde, you pressed her against the bathroom door, your kiss fueled by an intense need. The taste of yourself on her tongue drove you crazy and you couldn't deny how intoxicating it was. Her knee was nestled between your legs, and she pulled back to rain kisses down your neck, her voice filled with fervor as she questioned, "Why the hell aren't you wearing panties, hm?" In a rush, but with purpose, you responded, "Can't you see I'm dressed exactly how you like, P? It's all part of the plan."

She picked you up, your body clinging to hers as she placed you on the counter of the sinks. You made out fervently, her strong body no longer pressed against the door, leaving you both vulnerable to potential intruders. This was dangerous, extremely so. Paige kept letting you take dominance, even if it wasn't as blatant as her own, and it was exhilarating. When you placed your legs upon the counter, high heels on, your tits dropping below your dress with your pussy on display, clenching and unclenching as you pleaded, "I want your mouth," Paige couldn't resist. As she dropped to her knees, she reasoned that she was already in too deep to back out. The vodka in her Shirley Temple convinced her it was fine too, and fuck, it felt beyond fine. Her eyes remained locked with yours as she began by licking your hole, teasing the tip of her tongue inside before traveling up to your clit, prodding at it expertly.

"You taste so good," Paige murmured against your clit, sucking it.

"How would all your good-girl Uni friends feel if they saw you like this, hm? Legs spread like the slut you are, begging for my mouth."

Paige was losing control. She was spiraling. You looked too slutty, too good, and the situation was too risky for her not to take a picture of this. Removing her phone from her pocket, she handed it to you, and you already knew what to do.

You eagerly begin a video recording of Paige devouring you, capturing every salacious moment with fervor. Her mouth and tongue work tirelessly, exploring every inch of your dripping sex, her fingers sliding effortlessly into you, curling and stroking in the harmony with her oral ministrations. You moan uncontrollably, your senses overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through your body. As Paige's tongue dances over your clit and her fingers plunge deeper, you writhe and squirm on the counter, unable to contain the ecstasy building within you.

The sensations are overwhelming, driving you to the brink of madness as you teeter on the edge of blissful oblivion. "Film yourself," Paige murmurs against your pussy, and you obediently turn the camera toward your face and heaving chest. The lens captures your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, and the dazed look of ecstasy in your eyes as you surrender to the euphoria of Paige's mouth and fingers.

"M'gonna cum, baby," you whine, bucking your hips with a primal urgency against her face, desperate for release. "Yes, yes, please," you whimper, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the pressure builds to an unbearable peak. "I need it, Paige, I need to cum." As the climax washes over you like a tidal wave, you cling to Paige's head, holding her against your pussy as your body convulses with the force of your release.

With a satisfied smile, Paige grabs a paper towel and tends to you, then looks up to the camera from her knees, tongue teasingly licking off the remnants of your arousal. You hastily rearrange your clothes, staying put on the counter as Paige rises from between your legs to place her lips against yours. Paige's lips kiss with tender urgency that feels like unspoken intimacy and connection. As her mouth melds with yours, you feel the lingering heat of desire between you guys. In that fleeting embrace, there's a sense of vulnerability and trust, as if the world around you fades away, leaving only the electrifying sensation of her lips against yours. It's a kiss that speaks volumes, a silent reassurance that you're in this together, navigating the waves of need and indulgence as one.

But then again, you're recording, so the moment, while still undeniably sexy, lacks the sweetness of intimacy. Paige takes the phone from your hand, filming as she guides you off the counter by your hand, only to drop it suddenly, spinning you around and pressing you against the cool surface. With her lap pressed against your ass, she asserts control, her hand firmly guiding your hips as she captures the action in the mirror.

As you grind back against her, you breathe out softly, "We're defiling this place, P," your voice laden with desire.

She responds in kind, her voice husky with arousal. "You're right, angel. Come on." With a firm grip on your hair, she pulls you back up until you're tilting your head to meet her gaze. Without hesitation, she delivers a fast, open-mouthed kiss that feels less intimate this time, followed by a daring act of dominance. She spits into your mouth, and you swallow, the act captured on camera for all to see.

With a shared glance, you rearrange yourselves, a tacit acknowledgment passing between you as you hastily fix your appearance. The urgency to flee the restaurant is palpable, both of you acutely aware of the need to escape before anyone catches wind of the steamy encounter that just unfolded in plain sight.

masterlist here

#pussyeatinggggg #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #paige x fem reader #paige x oc #smut bueckers #paige bueckers smut #bueckersxfemreader #paige bueckers #smut #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn vs iowa #iowa wbb #wbb #march madness #ncaa tournament #paige buckets #Paige #paige x reader #wlw post #wlw smut #pb #paigexfemreader #uconn women’s basketball #smutwccb #paigebueckersfluff #18+

[ettle]

Thank goodness you're okay, you passed out for a second there. Hey, Achievement Hunter just posted a new video! Yeah, we're gonna watch it on my laptop in the hotel while I finish my Mogar cosplay. Are you almost finished with your Mad King Ryan co-- callout? What callout? Oh come on, you know RTX is super safe. What's the Dream SMP? I've never heard of it. Anyway, I wanted to take a picture at the Tower of Pimps before it got too crowded. I'm so glad to be here with you :) I hope we can work at Rooster Teeth someday when we're older.

#achievement hunter #rooster teeth #fahc #mcyt

[eternaldecisions]

𝗟𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗬 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗢. — Chris Sturniolo.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚. GUITARIST!CHRIS & FEM!READER

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬. reader gets jealous after a fan tries to have some fun with Chris, and as reader has insecurities about her looks, but Chris proves your the only one.

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦. Smut, cursing, mention of drinks, mentions of drugs, fem!receiving, that’s all?

𝗔/𝗡. i didn’t know how to finish, and english not ny first language, liking and reblogging is appreciated.

edit credits to - .ag6ny

Trick what? Pimps up, hoes down

Woah now, slow down.

Enveloped in a dazzling cascade of light and sound, your senses surrendered to the performance, as Chris and his band covered the song by Deftones, “My Own Summer (Shove It)” with electrifying mastery on the electric guitar.

You were sweating as much from all the jumping, but this was finally the oportunity you could hear close to Chris again, as he was in a world tour, you haven’t see him in a while.

After some songs performances, they called it a night, lefting the stage after taking a bow, you smile widely to yourself, being proud of Chris success as a guitarist.

But the voices behind you quickly made your attention drift from the thoughts of Chris, hearing bunch of feminines voice behind you.

“I wished I had some private time with Chris.”

“Ugh same he keeps getting hotter.”

“Well, lucky me I had the meet and greet ticket.”

“Wait what!”

The other two girls say in unison, with wide eyes, the tickets weren’t that cheap, they were pretty expensive, and the meet and greet even more expensive.

The girl had a damn wide smile, that made your blood oil. She wasn’t Chris girl, neither Chris was hers, he belongs to you, not her.

Before you slapped her, you quickly made your way out, sprinting to the band’s private room; were the meet and greets happened.

Taking a quick look, some fans already getting pictures and autographs, your gaze lands on Chris was he interacts with the girl that was talking about him.

“Nice to meet you, Annalise.”

Annalise, Annalise! she was like a angel fallen from heaven, how pretty she was with her long precious blonde hair where you just wanted to go an chop all off, and her delicate hazel eyes.

“Uh, can you someday teach me guitar?”

Her voice, a whispering veil of seduction, ignited a raging storm of fury within you, tempting the urge to slap her across the face.

Naturally, Chris wasn't the one to turn down an opportunity for some fun with an hot girl, exchanging numbers was just the beginning of what promised to be an unforgettable encounter.

The smell of weed and marijuana starts filling your nostrils as soon the meet and greet ends, you take a seat on the couch, your eyes landing on the tall figure of Chris walking to you as he sits next to you.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.” You masked your face with a fake smile. He motioned for you to sit on his lap and you quickly obeyed, his hand moving up to roam your body.

“Do you need a drink?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You aren’t.”

“Why are you making assumptions of me, why don’t you go and make assumptions of Annalise instead?” Your head turns to look at Chris as you finish speaking, a bit of anger showing in your voice.

“You’re jealous aren’t you.” He says with a devilish grin.

“No.”

“Come with me, C’mon.” He motions to you stand up, where you quickly do, walking out of the private room, getting inside of a bathroom.

Chris pins you against the wall as he kisses you roughly, his hands exploring every inch of your body, making your goosebumps rise, as his cold hands find your breasts, playing with your nipples under your lacy black bra.

Your fingers run through his hair, you moan into his mouth, the little noise being muffled with his kisses, as your hands find way to your pants unbotting and pulling it down.

Chris pulls away, motioning to you jump to his arms, your legs wrap around his torso, as he cups your ass, giving a loud smack, as he places you on the bathroom counter.

He kneels down in front of you as he looks at you, with his blue stoned eyes, he plays with the waistband of your panties, before removing it completely.

Without excitation, he attaches his lips to your wet folds, licking a full strip.

“Always wet for me, mm.”

He smirks, as his tongue and mouth works wonderful in your cunt, you throw your head back, hitting the bathroom mirror, your legs starts to tremble, but at the same time he grips your thighs already making a bruise.

“Fuck, i’m close..”

“Already?” His tone is playful, but at the same time being muffled, your orgasm quickly washes over you, cumming undone in his face, curses and moans leaving your mouth.

He chuckles to himself, standing up once again, as he caresses your legs, before landing a harsh slap on your right ass cheek making you wince.

“You barely lasted, cmon’ you have one more in you.”

You hear the sound of him unbelting his belt, his pants falling to the marble floor, your gaze landing to his hard cock still in the Calvin Klein fabric he wore.

He pulled down his boxers teasing your entrance, before slamming into you, giving you some seconds to adjust to his size.

“You don’t have to worry about Annalise.” His tone is cocky, as he has a wicked grin in planted in his face, as he keeps pounding into you.

“She doesn’t compare to you, doll.” Chris comments rhetorically, tilting his head with an amused expression.

Tears prick your eyes as you don't think you can take it anymore. The overstimulation was much for you, but still was pleasing and painful at the same time.

“You feel so good.” He mutters, pressing his thumb to your clit, rubbing in small circles.

“You wanna cum, don’t you?" He teases, knowing you need to cum.

“Please.”

“Then go on, cum like the fucking slut you are.”

“Oh my god..” your voice is high pitched and needy, you coat his dick in your cum, as he fastly cums after you, making a mess in the bathroom counter.

He pulls out of you slowly, grabbing a towel cleaning you up.

“I fucking feel like Lord Pretty Flacko.”

#eternaldecisions #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 4

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter. Masterlist

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. ...Well, maybe you also hated Annabel Williams as much - but you'd be damned before you let a drunk girl out in the hallway without helping her.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Sex, Felix doesn't make an appearance (but still mentioned), Reader is a girl's girl, Annabel has an epiphany, Michael hates everyone BUT Reader, Farleigh is Farleigh, alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic. Also Oliver is barely in this chapter, but who cares about that asshat?

Author's Note: I am so sorry for the prolonged hiatus! It was not intentional! My classes have upped the ante in how much HW they gave me, and I got distracted by reading my old GOT fanfics and got ideas for it. BUT - thank you all who've been reading this fic and sharing wonderful comments! They really help push me to become a better writer!

You were caught in a bit of a pickle – granted, it was a voluntary pickle, but a pickle nonetheless.

…Okay, so quick recap of the events that transpired this week:

Regularly-scheduled Annabel tormenting you

Got sexually-harassed by Catton

Had a self-pity session at Bowin

Got found by Mikey Gravy

Olly, the psychotic backstabber/bootlicker, tried to pimp you out to Felix Catton.

You almost committed aggravated homicide of said pimp before Michael dragged you away.

You went to the movies to drool over Johnny Depp.

 You and Michael decided you would crash in his dorm room for the night…leading to your current predicament.

Right now, you were dragging an unconscious Annabel, who was drunk off her ass, with one arm flung over your shoulder as you tried to make get any information of where her dorm was out of her. It was a sad picture – mascara running down her cheeks, vomit from her mouth, and lipstick messily smeared across her face. The smell of vomit mixed with cheap booze was almost enough to make you want to drop her on the ground and leave her there if you hadn’t pitied her so much.

When you realized that you weren’t going to get anything out of her that didn’t involve projectile vomiting, you just decided to bring her to rest up in your dorm.

“I still don’t understand why you’re helping her,” Michael grunted.

Oh, yeah…and Michael was helping you, too.

“Because girl code, Gavey–” you grunted, lifting Annabel’s arm higher when you felt her slipping “–no man left behind – or well, no woman left behind in this case.”

“That’s the Geneva Code.”

“Same difference,” you groaned out. Fuck, how was this girl so heavy?

Michael’s face was getting flushed from the sweat running down his forehead. “So, girl code dictates that you have to help the bitch who’s been making your term hell?”

“Girl Code,” you huffed, “wait, hang on - she’s slipping - okay, there we go. ‘Girl Code’ is more of an honor code expected to be followed by all sisters on their journey to womanhood. And one of the most sacred rules in that honor system is that – fuck, she’s heavy – that if you see a sister drunk and unconscious, you make sure she gets home safe.”

“Or your matchbox dorm room, in this circumstance,” your friend grumbled.

You tiredly nodded. “Exactly! Besides, regardless of how heinous she is, it’s the right thing to do.”

“(Y/N), you realize she won’t be getting hypothermia, right?” Michael frustratingly groaned. “It’s late spring.”

“But that doesn’t mean there aren’t people out there who won’t take advantage of her in her current state. They’d say, ‘Oh, she was asking for it,’ or ‘she’s just imagining things, do you remember how hammered she was?’ And then it’ll be their word against hers.”

You went silent for a bit. “I don’t want that to happen to her. No one should have that happen to them – girl or guy, bully or friend.”

“Well, in any case,” Michael started as the two of you finally arrived at the beginning of your dormitory. “It’s lucky that your dorm is so close to mine. Are you sure you want her in there? There’s still the chance she’ll vomit all over your carpet if she misses the bucket or even your covers.”

You opened the door with your ID card. “I’ll just have to take that chance, I guess. Look, I’ll try to wake her up long enough to see if she remembers any of her friend’s numbers. If any of them pick up, I’ll tell them to pick her up.”

Michael looked at you with heavy doubt in his eyes. “And if they don’t? Pick up, I mean?”

“Then I guess we’ll be having a sleepover,” you sighed as you reached your room at the end of the hallway. “And then we’ll never have to see each other ever again when morning comes.”

Michael loudly snorted while you clumsily reached into your back pocket for your keys. “Don’t jinx yourself. With your bleeding heart, you’ll probably end up donating your liver to her if she doesn’t die of alcohol poisoning first.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, come one. Have a bit more faith in me – SHIT!” you exclaimed after you dropped your keys.

You quickly scrambled to the floor while Michael guffawed at your misfortune. You shot a quick glare at him to get him to shut up. The bespectacled bastard didn’t stop laughing until…like, three minutes passed. In response, you dropped Annabel’s arm from your shoulder to focus on finding your room key. You chuckled to yourself when you heard Michael curse to himself as he tried to balance the drunk girl’s weight without getting her too close to him. When you finally found it, you inserted it into the lock. You sighed in relief when the door opened. You were even more relieved that your roommate had decided to spend the night at her girlfriend’s dorm. You really didn’t want to have to explain to her why you were voluntarily helping the vile witch bitch who was actively trying to make your college years hell. Meanwhile, Michael grimaced and groaned as he held Annabel away from his body at arm’s length.

“Is sluttiness contagious through touch?” he asked.

“Unless pre-Sith Anakin suddenly pops into this hallway, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that,” you snorted as you opened the door to let Michael drag the unconscious girl into the room.

Michael scoffed at your choice of Star Wars beefcake. “Bitch, please. Young Obi-Wan Kenobi was far superior.”

He went to the center of the room and released Annabel from his grip to let her unceremoniously fall on the floor, and her body made a soft ‘thump.’ You wrinkled your nose and grimaced at the pathetic nature of tonight. She looked less like the glamorous Oxford party ‘IT’ girl and more like one of those sad groupies who OD’d in their favorite rockstar’s pool from a house party. You didn’t know what the hell her story of tonight was – but it still didn’t mean she deserved to be left alone, slumped against a wall in a dirty hallway with vomit all over her.

You turned to Michael. “Okay! Off you trot!”

Your favorite bespectacled blonde nerd gave you a look of complete bewilderment.

“Seriously?” he asked. “Not even a thank you? I literally dragged her body here from my dormitory and risked being the first victim of a new STD contracted through skin contact.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics – if he weren’t such a numbers genius, he would have been the perfect theater kid.

“Don’t be such an incel,” you admonished. “It’s not a good look on you. And I carried more of her body weight than you, dumbass. If I left it up to you, we’d never get anywhere with your twiggy arms.”

You poked his arms in emphasis and snickered when he pouted. He crossed his arms and was about to leave when you pounced on him. A bit of Annabel’s “Britney Spears Fantasy” spray perfume soaked into his shirt, but other than that, he still smelled like himself. The scent of fresh laundry, freshly mowed grass, and spearmint toothpaste made you feel safe. His scent, combined with his body heat, enveloped you in comfort.

“Thanks, Mikey,” you whispered. “I know you didn’t have to help me, but you did anyway.”

Gavey wrapped his arms around you as he rested his chin on your head. He usually hated contact with anybody save his family, but you were always the exception. Michael should probably have warned you that the rotten and acidic odor from Annabel’s puke would ruin your shirt, but he just let himself replace her cheap perfume with your fragrance. The scent of your favorite honey and jasmine conditioner in your hair mostly covered the faint traces of turpentine and linseed oil on your skin.

“Of course I did,” he softly replied. “With your shit sense of direction, you would have ended up in the bottom of the ditch.”

You gasped and lightly pushed him away. “Uhhh, way to ruin the moment!”

Michael snickered at the way your jaw had dropped in shock and betrayal. You then resorted to mockingly punching him in the stomach as he did nothing to stop you. He couldn’t help but look at you in total and utter fondness as he continued to ‘beat him up.’

But in all honesty, Michael didn’t mind helping you. He loved it. He’d rather get Crucio-ed than say it, but you were his favorite person in the whole world. In a desert of fakes and masks of insincerity, you were like gentle rain with your genuine vibrance and rare honesty. He loved how endlessly kind and empathetic you were to others. He just hated it when you granted acts of kindness to the plebes unworthy of you. You’d give the benefit of the doubt to the worst of the worst on campus – Annabel being a case in point.

Remembering the drunk elephant in the room, Michael grabbed your fists and stared at you thoughtfully.

“Seriously, though,” he began, “why are you helping her? I know you told me about ‘girl code’ and all that. But is that seriously it?”

You thumped your head against his chest. “Look, I get it. Annabel is a horrible person, and with how awful she treated me – she doesn’t deserve my kindness, my help, or my pity. But that doesn’t change that it was the right thing to do. And if not us, who knows who would have picked her up? If another guy other than you ‘helped’ her…you do the math.”

A groggy voice broke the two of you apart. “Are you two going to shag? Because I can leave.”

You and Michael jumped apart as you watched Annabel lift herself from the floor and stagger to her feet. Her legs wobbled briefly before giving out, and then she fell to the floor. You turned to Michael and gave him one final hug before seeing him out. He looked disgusted at the girl sitting on the cheap carpet before turning to you, concerned. Mikey asked if you were confident you didn’t need him here to help you.

“I’ll take it from here,” you reassured him. You flexed your arm – 80s jock bully style. “I’m a tough girl. I carry my canvases and textbooks and everything, after all.”

“Okay,” he dragged out the last syllable. “But if you end up putting her down, give me a call, and I’ll help you bury the body.”

“Um,” interjected Annabel, “you know I’m right here, you arse.”

 “Hey,” you admonished, “he did help carry you here. He could have left you in that hallway alone.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed. “Probably did it so he could cop a feel, the slimy wanker.”

“Please,” Michael sneered, “as if I’d ever willingly touch someone with a higher body count than Dahmer and Bundy combined. I’m only here because I wanted to help (Y/N) – she’s the one who was worried about your sad self.”

Ugh, this was going to be a long night. You turned to Michael with apologetic eyes and reassured him that he wasn’t a wanker. You promised you’d make it up to him by buying all the Crunchie bars he wanted. Mikey’s eyes softened at your sincerity as he began to walk down the corridor to make the trek to his dorm.

You softly closed your door so as not to cause any further disturbance. When you turned around, you were startled by the dead stare Annabel was giving you. You looked down at your feet as you shifted uncomfortably in your spot. You cleared your throat to try and break the tension.

“Um, soooo…I’m glad you’re awake. You were sitting so still in that hall, I was worried you OD’d,” you nervously joked. But all she did was continue to stare at you. “So, do you have your phone with you? I figured it would be best if you called one of your friends. I’m sure they’re really worried about you. I know I’d be going out of my mind if one of my friends–”

“What kind of fucking game are you playing here?” she snarled. Her large, doe-brown eyes narrowed in anger as you stopped talking.

“Uhhh,” your mind was coming out blank. “Wait, I don’t – I don’t know what you mean?”

Annabel rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t play stupid. Why’d you help me? Did you want to take pictures of me drunk and unconscious?”

Your jaw fucking dropped. “What?! NO! I just–”

“I’m sure that would’ve made some fucking good blackmail material,” ignoring you and continuing, “I can see it: ‘Annabel Williams drunk in the hall after trying to shag fucking sad Ollie.’ You’re so obvious.”

You tried to explain yourself. “Okay, look- I think there’s a big misunderstanding here–”

“Or maybe you want to show the pictures to Felix, not that he’d care or anything. You got him all wrapped up in your little Yankee finger, you know that? It’s so pathetic and sick – it makes me want to–”

“HEY!” you yelled – finally making her just shut UP. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths to calm down. “Look, Michael and I were walking to his dorm when we saw you were sitting in the hallway. I tried to ask you if you had your phone on you and if you wanted me to call anyone, but you were out cold. And I couldn’t just leave you there, okay? That’s dangerous! And I didn’t know where you lived – you know, considering that you hate me–” you cut off your rambling with a deep breath “–so he and I dragged you to my dorm.”

The silence that followed was so stifling you wanted to open a window. Maybe if you let some fresh air in, it might calm the girl down. It would also help diffuse some of the puke odor stinking up your room.

“…Anyway, if you don’t have your phone on you right now, I can always call them myself. Do you remember their numbers? I know you and India are close. Do you think she’s available right now?”

More silence.

You began fidgeting. “I mean, you can stay over if no one is available? I don’t mind since my roommate is sleeping over–”

Annabel interrupted you again. “You’re so full of it. You just wanted to help me? For what? For the sake of being the goody-two-shoes kiss-ass, you’ve always been? Did you want me to bow and worship you?”

“Annabel,” you groaned, “it’s been a really long night, okay? And I don’t feel like arguing when you aren’t sober and in your right mind.”

“Oh yeah,” she bitterly laughed. “Be a pushover, and get everyone to love you. Tell everyone how much of a ‘heinous’ bitch I am. Play the victim – that’s all you’ll ever be. Just go back with your pathetic little nerd friend and be invisible and boring like the goody-goody who thinks she’s better than the rest of us.”

The quiet in the room was surprisingly loud. Shock and disbelief morphed into fury as your fists clenched so hard that your nails left red welts on your skin. Your body trembled in anger as your tongue felt too heavy to express everything you wanted to say.

‘Pushover’ she called you? ‘Play the victim,’ she said?

Who the hell was she to have any right to judge you? Did she have any idea what you’ve sacrificed? How much have you suffered and left behind? Could she even have the slightest decency to understand what you’ve been through? Of what she put you through?

…You know what? …Fuck her. Fuck Annabel Williams and all of Oxford’s elite. They were proof that Michael was right – that doing the right thing meant nothing to them.

Your voice was cold, and your eyes were numb. “…I’m going to take a shower,” you grab a towel and your shower buddy. “I want you to get the hell out of my dorm by the time I get back. Call your friend or don’t? Do whatever the hell you want. I don’t care.”

You slammed the door on your way out.

“Finally,” Annabel thought with some relief, “she’s gone.”

When you left, the room felt ten degrees colder the way the door slammed, and Annabel felt goosebumps form on her arm. This was the worst night of her life. She had never felt so humiliated.

Her mummy told her she was just born blessed because God knew she was exceptional, and she always believed that to be true. For her entire life, she was the girl every boy wanted to bed and the girl every girl wanted to be. She never had to fight for anyone’s attention. Her parents gladly bought her the latest versions of top-of-the-line technology. Her closet here and at her parent’s townhouse in Kensington was filled with designer-brand exclusives and limited-editions. She had everything.

For people like her, life was supposed to be easy. She was born at the top, so she would be there till the day she died.

So why was she losing to you?

When she came to Oxford, she figured it would be as easy as most of her life. She’d spend her time partying and networking with the right people. If she had to blackmail a nerd to take her classes or blow a teacher to give her an “A”? Who would say otherwise?

But then she met Felix Catton and finally felt she had met her match. Finally, there was someone who checked all the boxes: rich, tall, handsome, and fun. That part made Felix the golden sheep who stood above the rest of the flock – he was fun. Not only did he know how to have a good time, he knew how to properly fuck a girl, too.

She was so drunk off the taste of his lips and the feel of him around her – so much so that she broke her golden rule.

“Never fall first.”

Annabel felt herself falling hard for Felix Catton. She thought they were exclusive. He was her boyfriend, and she was his girlfriend. But then…he became distant. He stopped calling he and ignored her when they returned to campus after the break. But then he and she left the bar at Kings’ Crossing, and she was so happy! She wanted to cry when he kissed her hard and ripped her 100 quid top in half.

It didn’t matter if she wasn’t wet when he entered her. It didn’t matter that he didn’t wait for her to adjust when he started to thrust. It didn’t matter when she tried to moan his name; he would cover her mouth with his giant hand to shut her up. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t close to finishing when he came inside her. It didn’t matter when her windpipes were almost crushed when he fell on top of her after finishing.

They were together. He chose her! Annabel and Felix – Mrs. Felix Catton, she could see it now. They’d have a wedding in his house at Saltburn. She would have to meet his parents, but she wasn’t worried – all her flings’ parents loved her! They would be together forever, and nothing would ever–

“(Y/N),” Felix whispered above her – and Annabel’s world completely fell apart.

She immediately shoved his body off hers and hurriedly dressed before getting the hell out of his room. Annabel didn’t bother putting on her shoes before running with tears down her face to her dorm. And when she returned to her single, she flung herself to her bed and cried to sleep. She didn’t bother attending class that week – not when her heart broke.

Felix had been thinking about you – you. He called out your name after finishing. Was he imagining your naked body when hers was under him? Had he been imagining you every time he fucked her?

Annabel smelled Felix’s aftershave and wanted to rip the skin off her body. God, she never felt more like a whore in her entire life.

“God,” she thought, “I was so pathetic! How could I be so stupid to fall for Felix Catton? Why did I trick myself into hoping that we would be together?”

Felix wanted a good girl—like you—the American scholarship student who wanted to paint pretty pictures and was at the top of her classes. The lovely New Yorker who hung around losers and still held your head up high despite every professor thinking you were in over your head to come here. Some pushover bitch who was so pathetic and actually–

The door slammed open again, and Annabel’s pretty sure she’d scream if she weren’t so fucking tired. You came storming in with your towel and shower caddy in your hands, and your eyes were a raging storm while your lips were pursed like you had sucked a lemon. Your nostrils are flaring as you angrily breathe through your nose. Annabel was about to open her mouth, but you menacingly pointed at her with your pointer finger. It felt like forever until you finally opened your mouth.

“Look! We don’t have to be friends and I don’t expect us to be friends – but you know what? YES, I WOULD LIKE A THANK YOU! I dragged your unconscious ass across campus, and you REEKED of vomit and bad perfume! And not to body shame, but you are WAY TOO SKINNY to be healthy to be as heavy as you were when I carried you!”

“Excuse me?!” Annabel sputtered. “Who the fuck–”

“Oh! I’m not done!” you shouted. “I don’t know if you being horrible and a bitch is supposed to be some power trip or some shit, but it’s so cliché! Are we in Mean Girls? Are you Regina George? No, am I Janice from Lebanon? NO! And on that – I have a few bones to pick with you…MISSY!

I–” You pointed to yourself “–am NOT a pushover, okay? I fucking beat your stupid manwhore boy toy like it was goddamn ‘Whack o’ Mole’ for ruining my painting! Pushovers don’t do that!  FURTHERMORE – me calling you a ‘horrible person’ or ‘heinous bitch’ isn’t me ‘playing the victim’! You HAVE been a HORRIBLE person to me, alright? And what’s worse – I don’t have the slightest idea why! Was it something I said to you last term? Or were you born a spoilt princess who never had to work for anything in her life because mommy and daddy will always give you everything you want so you could forget that they would probably instead work than deal with their brat? Seriously – what is it? Because you’re driving me CRAZY!”

When you were done, Annabel sat on the floor, completely silent, and stared at you unblinkingly. She hadn’t expected you to come back so quickly – let alone to scream at her. She stared at your huffing and shallow breathing in awe and slight amazement. Your hair looked frazzled from your outburst, and your (e/c) eyes were bright with wild impulse.

Annabel felt her bottom lip quiver and stared at an ugly stain on the carpet. She didn’t want to show any more of herself than she had already. But what the hell? You already saw more of her than most of her so-called ‘friends.’ What was a little more? If she had to show more of the ugliest parts of herself, why not show it to someone she already hated?

Before she could stop herself, Annabel felt her shoulders sag and shake as sobs tore through her petite frame. Tears and snot were running down her face as she furiously tried to wipe them away – if nothing but to try and save some shred of dignity. Annabel was crying so much that she didn’t see the surprised look on your face morph to slight guilt since you thought you may gone too far with your rant. You reached out to tap her shoulder when you heard her speak.

“Why doesn’t he want me?” she sobbed. “What do I have to do to get him to love me?”

If you were taken aback by her crying, you were completely caught off-guard by her questions. You walked over to your desk and grabbed a box of tissues before crouching on the ground. You handed her a few tissues from the box and waved to her face to present them. Annabel noticed how you tried hard not to see how much her hand trembled when she reached forward to grab the tissues from you.

“Who?” you softly asked her. “Are you talking about Felix?”

Annabel blew her nose into the tissue hard. “Who else?! I mean…look at me! Everyone wants me! Everyone – boys, girls, teachers! Do you know how many of my past flings gladly emptied their pockets so I might wank them? But he wants you! What do you have that I don’t?”

Concern and pity shifted to confusion before realization kicked in, and you were so done with this conversation already. Maybe you were a slightly horrible person for this, but you felt so disappointed when Annabel told you that her entire drama with you had been over Felix Catton.

“…That’s why you’ve been tormenting me this entire term so far?” you flatly asked. “Because of Felix Catton?”

“He called out your name–” she gasped a heavy sob “– while he was fucking me! Do you have any idea how that feels?”

“Okay, wow,” you thought, “that’s actually really shitty – fuck.”

“Do you know how humiliating that was for me? He was still inside me, for fucks’ sake! I felt him shrink!”

Okay – that was so much more information about Annabel’s and Felix’s sex life than you ever wanted to know.

You coughed into your hand as your face flushed red. “Oh, um–I’ve never really…done it before. So…I wouldn’t really don’t know how that feels.”

“Ugh, of course, you’re a virgin,” she groaned. “Don’t tell me you don’t drink either.”

When you remained silent, Annabel let out a bitter laugh. “Damn, you think you’re hot shit and everything. But you really are a goody-goody. What – you saving yourself for God or some shit?”

“HEY! Just because I like to keep my head down and not a party and get plastered every five minutes doesn’t make me a goody-two-shoes. I just don’t like the taste of alcohol, and increased chances of lung cancer doesn’t exactly spell out ‘fun’ for me.”

But Annabel ignores your outburst and continues to dismiss you. “Yeah, right. I bet you call your mommy and daddy every night. Do you tell them that you miss them and want to go home? Or do you wish to bake cookies with your mummy as daddy watches the telly?”

Annabel’s taunting is only responded to with silence as she grows confused by your melancholic expression.

“…I can’t call them at all,” you respond. “International calls are too expensive. The best I can do is email or Skype. And planned calls can hardly be reliable since my parents’ schedules are always all over the place with their jobs.”

“When–” Annabel’s voice cracked “– when’s the last time you saw them? In real life?”

“I was supposed to see them during Christmas Break,” you bitterly explained, “but then Felix crashed into me when I was on my way to deliver it. He ruined my painting, and I had to redo it completely, not to fail and completely flush my parents’ money down the drain.”

“I thought you were here on scholarship? Doesn’t that mean you don’t have to pay to come here?”

“I’m here on a partial scholarship,” you explained. “It covers a good part of my tuition, but not all of it – and definitely not for housing and meal plans. Travel expenses alone were so expensive, so I had to leave alone. Mom cried so much at the security checkpoint, and Dad almost didn’t want me to go. I didn’t even want to go. But they wanted me to experience more of the world while I still could.”

“…Do you miss them?” Annabel asked. She felt silly asking a question with such an obvious answer. But, hearing how you talked about your parents crying their goodbyes to you compared to the simple wave she got hers after they dropped her off campus made her feel a deep longing.

You let out a shaky sob. “More than anything. You never realize how much you miss your home and family until an entire ocean separates you.”

Annabel uncomfortably shifted in her spot as she noticed your eyes getting misty. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried over missing her parents and felt that you were being overdramatic. Annabel spent her entire break with her parents at their house, but she couldn’t remember the last time they ate at the same table unless it was for one of her dad’s dinner parties. What did it feel like – to miss and love someone so much after not seeing them for a year?

What did it feel like – to have an entire lifetime of that kind of love?

Does having that kind of love make you?

“…Why did you help me?” Annabel finally asked. She couldn’t bear the tension anymore. “You could have just left me there. Why help me and bring me here of all places?”

“…Because it was the right thing to do,” you explained and shrugged. “You were drunk and vulnerable. Maybe it was fear of being a potential bystander if someone tried to take advantage of you – but I was scared something was going to happen to you. Regardless of my feelings toward you and yours toward me, no one should ever find themselves in a position where if they’re telling the truth, it’s someone else’s word against theirs. I’ve seen it too happen many times already.”

“What do you say in response to that?” Annabel thought to herself – shocked by how genuinely you answered her question. Since you were honest with her, she figured she could at least be honest with you.

“If it were you,” she began, “I wouldn’t have done for you what you did for me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “you probably wouldn’t – but that’s neither here nor there. Because I’m me, and you’re you.”

“…Are you really not interested in Felix?” Annabel asked. She was surprised by your disgusted groan.

“Oh my god–” you put your face into your hands and loudly groaned “–I don’t understand why everyone has an obsession with this guy.”

Annabel raised her brow. “Seriously?”

“Yes! He’s so gross – I studied in an empty classroom last week. He sat next to me, basically propositioned me, and then put his hand on my thigh! Does that sound like someone I would want to date?”

“You know he’s just doing it to get your attention because he likes you, right?”

You scoffed at her input. “Pffft– and that makes it alright of him to invade my personal space via sexual harassment? I hate how everyone makes excuses for him – and why? Because he’s richer than God and has an ‘alright-looking’ face? So what?”

“Oh, believe me,” snickered Annabel, “he’s more than just ‘alright-looking’ and he fucks as good as he looks.”

You sagely shook your head. “A person like that has nothing to offer himself. He desperately clings to his family’s wealth and the benefits of his status so tightly – and he pretends not to enjoy it, but he’s the type of person to love leeching on someone’s misfortune to feel better about himself.”

You shuddered as you remembered Felix’s constant leering at you since the term began.

“He’s like a vampire – I’ve seen enough of them in high school to recognize them from miles away.”

Annabel was utterly silent at your analysis of Oxford’s Golden Boy. She never considered the possibility of someone out there who didn’t absolutely covet and revere him. She assumed that you were purposely playing ‘hard-to-get’ to get his attention, but maybe you were sincere in his disgust by him.

“Plus, he looks like the type to be absolutely shit at foreplay and only knows how to stick it in.”

Annabel was so caught off-guard by your statement that she immediately burst out laughing. You were surprised by her reaction and started to laugh, too. She was laughing so hard that tears started rolling down her cheeks, and her stomach started to hurt.

“HE IS!” she agreed while nodding. “He does the bare minimum! I’ve been giving him constant blowjobs, and I can count the number of times he’s eaten me out with one hand! The only type of prep he knows how to do is finger me!”

“Oh my god! EW!” you guffawed. “Why did you put up with him for so long?!”

Annabel shrugged. “He’s the most popular guy on campus – even the upperclassmen adore him. I was always the popular girl throughout primary and secondary prep. It just made sense.”

“My parents told me college was all about discovering new things about yourself,” you said. “Maybe…you could do that for yourself.”

Annabel looked wistful before nodding. “Yeah…you know this doesn’t mean we’re friends, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, tonight’s the last night I’m willingly dealing with a demon like you. I’ll stick to forcing Michael to watch my favorite Johnny Depp movies—thank you very much.”

Annabel watched your eyes soften at the mention of your friend…Michael Gravy? Was he the guy who left the two of you together after snarking at her?

…Oh god, it all made sense now.

“Are you and Gravy fucking?” she bluntly asked. She huffed in amusement at how red your face became as you began to sputter.

“WHAT?! No-NO! We’re friends!” you exclaimed before getting all shy.

“You were awfully protective of him a bit ago to be ‘just friends,’” Annabel countered. “Spill it – what’s going on between you two?”

“He’s my best friend,” you explained to Annabel. “He let me stay with his family after I finished repainting my assignment – which was really amazing of him.”

She watched how you smiled when continuing to talk about him.

“I know he can seem a bit odd and rude at first,” you continued. “But Michael is one of the best people on campus. He can be really sweet when you get close to him – especially when he talks about his family. His little sister, Lily, is so adorable! He’s a total nerd but a complete sweetheart when you get to know him.”

Annabel bemusedly watched as you gushed about your ‘best friend.’ It was almost sweet how gone you were for the nerd. You didn’t even realize how gone you were for him. For a bit, Annabel could see why Felix was so enamored with you.

“Well,” she interrupted as she stood up, “I guess your obliviousness to your feelings isn’t any of my business or whatever. Thanks for…helping me – it was really nice of you.”

You warmly smiled at her. “Sure! Do you have to meet anyone tomorrow morning?”

“Uh, no?”

You walked to your closet and grabbed a towel, a worn T-shirt, and old sweats. You handed them to her as Annabel looked at you in confusion.

“Since you’re here,” you began, “and it’s already like…3 a.m. – you might as well shower and stay over since tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“…Why?”

“You still have puke all over you,” you explained, “and it’s getting really hard pretending it’s not extremely gross. Plus, I can’t imagine you’re comfortable right now.”

“What’s with the clothes?”

You shrugged. “Well, I can’t exactly have you sleep in your dress and ruin my sheets! You can shower and sleep on my bed while I sleep on my roommate’s. Now, are you going to take them?”

Annabel hesitated before she took the bundle from your hands. You then opened the door. While holding it, you looked at her as if expecting her to follow you. What confused her most was the way she did exactly that.

While in the shower, she didn’t even mind that you didn’t have any of her usual hair products. Your conditioner looked like it was bought at a cheap dollar store – you didn’t even have a loofah. But when she exited the shower stall before drying herself with your towel and changing into your baggy clothes, she felt calmer than she had these past few weeks. As she crawled under your sheets and comforter, you turned off the night and wished her good night.

Annabel stared at the ceiling for about an hour before she grabbed her phone. She managed to find it while digging through her dress pockets. She was going to wash it when she got back to her dorm. Opening it, she rolled down at the dozens of messages from India and their girlfriends. Her eyes slightly widened at the soft *ping* her phone let out when she got a new message to show it was from Felix.

To her surprise, she didn’t feel anything. She didn’t care he messaged her that he had forgotten their plans. Staring at her screen, she just felt…nothing. So she did the very thing she should have done weeks ago.

She deleted Felix Catton’s number from her contact list.

Annabel slept better that night than she had all term.

After that night with Annabel, life simply went on. She and you weren’t ‘friends’ per se, but she no longer went out of her way to torment you like she had done before. She even told off some of her friends when they talked about you behind your back.

You two weren’t friends, but you hoped that there was at least some fraction of mutual respect. If you couldn’t be friends, then at least you two didn’t have to be enemies – you were happy to settle for being a ‘frenemy.’

You found yourself sitting by yourself at one of the tables in the library. Michael had to meet with one of his teachers about an essay but promised to meet with you as soon as he finished. You were repeatedly listening to Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats” when you heard the chair next to you being pulled out.

Fully expecting it to be Felix, you were ready to tell him to fuck off and bother some other poor soul that needed saving, but you were surprised to find that the person sitting next to you was his cousin, Farleigh Start. He introduced himself by stating his name and giving you a firm handshake. There wasn’t much you could do but reciprocate.

“Quite the save you gave our Annabel,” Farleigh grinned. “Very magnanimous of you, especially considering how she treated you.”

“What do you want from me?” you blurted out. “I’m busy, and I would appreciate it if you just left so I can continue studying.”

You weren’t normally so rude, but this was Felix Catton’s cousin – and if this was a ploy to get you in his pants, you wanted no part of it. But your skepticism only seemed to please the boy sitting beside you more. His wry grin curled into a wide Cheshire Cat smile as he continued to stare at you with eager fascination.

Farleigh started to lean toward you, and you instinctively leaned away from him. You eyed him with extreme caution as if he were a mad scientist and you were a paralyzed specimen. And his eyes looked like he couldn’t wait to cut you open.

“I like you,” he stated. “Let’s be friends.”

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindno, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes, @paradisepoisons, @pansexualpamandabear, @erikasurfer, @lissamans, @cookielovesbook-akie, @thesmutconnoisseur, @izzyisstuff, @lariisouz

Reblog if you liked reading this chapter and want me to continue! Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #michael gavey x reader #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie

[deniseseine]

Everywhere I go I keep her picture in my wallet

Part 2 of hh characters having a picture of you in their wallet

Angel Dust🕸️✨

Disclaimer! Only in this part is reader a male since Angel is canonically gay

He's the most calmest and low-key about it

He doesn't really flex it to anyone, although he does say who you are if someone sees the picture

He teasingly says he has more spicy pictures of you

He is happy to say the story of your picture in his wallet though

"Oh him? This is my boyfriend, pretty hot right? I've got way more spicier images though"

His co-workers are quite flabbergasted he even has a boyfriend since, he is a porn star

Angel will also have a picture of you in his chest, if he misses you a lil too much he'll just poof it out from his fluffy chest

Valentino🦋

This man is a menace about your picture

He has a picture of you in a bikini, moth man is a simp and a pimp

He is very pissy when no one notices the picture of you in his wallet

He then slapped it on Vox's face one time and said it was an accident

"Oops sorry elegante, I accidentally hit you in Tu hermosa cara plana! Oh and if you're gonna ask who's this lovely lady in my wallet it's my girlfriend! Not just some employee of mine of course" he says happily

Vox caused another black out because of how enraged he was to get purposely slapped on the face with a wallet

Val never flexed your picture in his wallet ever again after that

Lute🖤

Lute doesn't really say it to anyone since she's afraid the things she said to Vaggie will be said to her too

She adores you and loves you though

She just doesn't wanna get judged and doesn't want her words to be used against her

Adam did find out and bro's reaction wasn't what Lute was expecting

"This is your girlfriend danger tits?! Woah she's a fucking hottie! I'll call her hottie tits or pussy lover!"

Lute doesn't know if she'll be happy or not, happy because Adam approves and doesn't judge her for your relationship with her or not because Adam has a ridiculous nickname for you now

Either way Adam kept it a secret as Lute was happy that you and her could still date in heaven without any judgemental glares

Thank you for reading!

#Spotify #hazbin hotel #hh #vivziepop #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin lute #lute hazbin hotel #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #valentino #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #angel dust x reader #lute x reader

[matrixbearer2024]

Get Off My Screen Series Headcanons:

A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates guys! Currently working on two interludes I'll be posting back to back later so for now- have some headcanons I have for both Vox and Reader! Btw, if you guys have scenarios you still want to see with Reader being alive- you can send those in! I'll try writing drabbles for them if ever.

Knowing Vox, he had snooped around your stuff and files when you were alive.

From sorting your files because of the haphazard arrangement-

To straight up just leaning everything he could about you.

He'd saved a few of your pictures over the time you both got to know each other better.

At the start, he was just curious and nonchalant.

Cuz I mean, he's talking with a living soul?

That's gotta be worth something right?

But in trying to get closer to manipulate you-

Vox ended up actually becoming your friend.

Your sassy and spitfire nature kept him interested, kind of like a game.

You didn't take his shit and neither did he with yours.

At first he thought you were just insufferably annoying and acted accordingly.

Then it would shift ever so slowly to him just expecting your antics.

Then him looking forward to them.

It was a ray of sunshine in his otherwise monotonous and frankly very depressing afterlife.

Also his tiny desktop pet in your computer?

That existed solely because he was irritated enough that you had the gall to download another digital companion.

Bring it up though and he'll just blow you off in flustered anger.

The internet search engines like Google, Firefox, bing- etc. were accessible to him on your gadgets, but not social media.

So he couldn't mess with your friends, which was why they didn't know about him even until your premature death.

Well, they do kinda know about him-

As that odd online friend of yours that you were always talking to or subconsciously about.

Similarly on Vox's end, despite his dumbass being terminally online-

He somehow ends up on his phone even more because of you.

Valentino is expectedly pissy about it.

Especially because Vox won't actually explain what's going on.

Over the months Vox got invested into your relationship-

His on-off with the pimp shifted into a more permanent off.

Like, at the start things would be practically the same-

But over time he'd sleep with Val less and less.

To the point he didn't let the moth touch him if he knew there were any sexual undertones.

Vox didn't see the point in partaking in something he didn't want to be in.

You on the other hand went through your fair share of crushes and blind dates.

Something that irked the overlord slightly, even if he didn't know why at the time.

His possessivenessprotectiveness only got worse after you both started talking via your TV.

He'd slightly wanted to have a proper conversation between you two that wasn't just texting.

Vox was also prone to blowing up your phone at random points in the day when he was bored.

Or when he saw you weren't giving him enough attention.

Wouldn't ever admit it but he likes being the center of your attention.

He's already got the eyes and ears of so many people with his shows and his media-

But you're like the one person he actually feels seen with.

It also helps that you don't let his bullshit fly.

You weren't ever scared of him despite the guy being a demon overlord.

What was the worst he could do?

Corrupt your files and destroy your gadgets?

That stuff was replaceable, didn't matter much.

Vox has stuck his hand in your playlist a couple times when he's busy working.

Mostly because he didn't have the time to properly talk but inadvertently missed you.

That and he'd usually check your playlist to gauge your mood.

There was a couple of times he'd been utterly confused why you had such a depressing song as your most played when you seemed happy as all hell.

He just chalked it up to another one of your odd behaviors.

Calls you doll/dollface by default but traverses into other more endearing petnames as you guys get closer.

You think nothing of it, assuming it's just him playing up his charisma but Vox kind of wishes you would give it some thought.

After all, he doesn't do that normally to anyone.

Well, not unless he's trying to manipulate them or get in their pants.

But with you, it was genuine.

He'd absolutely buffer or glitch if you ever gave him a cute petname though.

It's why you simply stick to just giving him names that made fun of his odd features.

Samsung, flatscreen, TV man-

He's gotten used to it.

But jokingly call him babe or dear and he will die.

Vox also loves your eyes, it was straight up just so easy to read you just by meeting your gaze.

Can and will get lost in his thoughts looking at you but often catches himself in time to stop.

Has kind of deluded himself into the 'just friends' mentality.

Mostly out of his hesitance and unwillingness to accept he'd truly and totally fallen for you.

Vox doesn't remember the last time he felt genuine love for someone and that scares the socks off him-

You on the other hand just legitimately have no idea your attraction to the guy alreardy borders on romantic.

Quite literally everyone can see it aside from you two.

When you get down to hell, Vox actually has to adjust to the fact you're down there-

Even if it's just for a really stupid reason-

He's just the slightest bit relieved you hadn't gone to heaven where he wouldn't be able to reach you anymore.

It's a selfish reason, but Vox is inherently a selfish person so it doesn't bother him too badly.

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox #get off my screen series #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x you #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox hazbin #vox hazbin hotel

[as-i-watch]

You know what i fliped through those outfits too fast so in a word

Rockstar but also Rich Lucille 10/10

Thats my hip Usopp movie i love 11/10

Suit + Sunglasses. Garanteed 10/10

Princess Leia tribute with a shinny white 11/10

Nipple buttons 10/10

Not sure is he looks like a 70's twink or a 2000's pimp but i support it (this picture dies not make it justice but trust me) 11/10

She will break your heart and bankrupt you 10/10

Fancy little guy with a great pop of color 10/10

And has being doing coke since he arrived 13/10

#one piece #luffydmonkey #luffy d monkey #monkey d luffy #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #one piece nami #one piece usopp #chopper #tony tony chopper #one piece franky #nico robin #one piece brook #straw hat crew #straw hat pirates #outfits #movie 13 #movie #film gold #one piece movie

[chaifootsteps]

What drives me most insane about all the discourse (or lack of discourse) around Hazbin is people trying to act like Angel Dust is the first ever sex worker character portrayed in media as an actual *character.* To say nothing of the fact that he's an utterly HORRIBLE representation. If anything it reinforces the idea of sex work as some bottom of the barrel hail mary for the desperate and horny. Which...no.

You want to know what most sex workers are like??? People. They're like *people.* People with interests and identities outside of their profession. They also have a lot in common with Therapists in that people go to them for comfort and sometimes literally a shoulder to cry on. The old cliche of a guy hiring a hooker only to cry about his problems isnt just for laughs. Listening to people and comforting them is a HUGE part of sex work. SO many sex workers are incredibly kind and emotionally intelligent people and not all of them only resorted to sex work out of desperation.

Angel? He's basically just a sassy, mean, gay twink stereotype rolled together with a ceaselessly horny, drug addled, asshole. Just because we're meant to feel bad for him doesnt make him a good representation.

You know some shows/movies that DO have positive rep? Bobs Burgers, Bless The Harts , GLOW, Firefly, Moulin Rouge, fucking Independence Day and yes I mean the one from 1996, and Sweet Charity which is from the goddamn 60s.

And these are just a fraction of the examples out there.

As a rule (and this is for everyone, not just the dickriders) just because YOU haven't seen/heard of something before doesnt mean it hasn't been done. Stop making all these broad judgements based on your own very narrow experience and do some research, good lord...

Dont even get me started on people trying to applaud the show for queer rep when it's literally just a Yaoi Hentai with musical numbers and twice the exploitation.

I pray to god John Waters never finds out about Hazbin because I don't need the poor man finding out all the work he did for queer culture and media has been set back decades by one spoiled rich white bitch.

And yes, Vivienne is white. Having South /Central American heritage does not automatically mean you aren't white. White is complexion, not a goddamn nationality. If you look and act white enough, you'll get treated like a white person, and Viv is about as white as they come. She grew up in goddamn bourgie-ass Frederick, Maryland. We see you, Viv.

Honestly, at the moment, I think my favorite fictional depiction of a sex worker is Tuca from Tuca & Bertie in that brief window of time she dabbled in it. Did it because she liked it and was good at it, no stereotypical Valentino-esque pimp in the picture, her clients were all regular people too, and she did it online which is something you don't often see in media. Viv could never have written something that grounded and adult.

#Anonymous #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop critical #viv stuff #actual blog post

[devilheartsblog]

The first patron

I’ll start including texts in my tiktok animatics so I can post them here as panels and you can enjoy the content as well. I know Tumblr is more picture focused so it’s the best of both worlds.

Anyway here’s a brief look at Husk in this AU. He’s swapped with Angel as the first patron which Alastor is using to spy on them since Adam DARED to not have THE Radio Demon sponsoring his hotel and instead this horny moth pimp with his new technology gadgets!

Quote by Chikn Nuggit btw. Check them out on TikTok and Youtube!

#fanart #art #hazbin hotel #swap au #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel husk #comic #eee the cat is here! #I’ll be making a reference of Husker soon #hope you guys like this format to include stuff I post on my tiktok

[parmahamlarrie]

Welcome back to another post for the directory of fic recs on my blog! If you would like a specific theme or trope, let me know! If you would like me to reblog your fic, submit it here and I will add it to the queue! **This post will be updated as I have more fics in this theme to recommend!**

the most domestic husbands series || trackfive || 223.5k Canon, Ficlets, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Dicked Down in Europe || @greeneyesfriedrice || 40.4k Canon, Established Relationship, Travel

Casting Lines Series || ashavahishta || 27k Canon, KidFic, Future Fic

a picture of love, that’s this house || theprincessd || 13.5k KidFic, Domestic Fluff, Canon

stop the world (‘cause I wanna get off with you) || @thedevilinmybrain || 12.3k Canon Compliant, 1D Band Days, Porn with Plot

Mercedes Boy Series || @kingsofeverything || 11.7k Canon, Established Relationship, Snapshots

To Wear Your Love Series || @haztobegood || 10.8k Canon, Dom Louis, Sub Harry, Pretty much PWP

12 Pearls for 12 Years || 5secsoflarry || 6.7k  Canon, Established Relationship, D/S Dynamic, Collaring

Only Thing That Can Quench My Thirst || eyesofshinigami || 6.5k Canon, Essentially PWP

With You I Am Never Alone || LiveLaughLoveLarry || 6.2k Thanksgiving, Canon

Garden of Eden || superglass || 6.1k Established Relationship, Canon, Lots of Weed, Religion Discussions Your Ink, My Skin || @larry-hiatus || 6.1k Canon, Finger Tattoos, Dom/Sub

Missing You || @canonlarry || 6k Canon, Future Fic, Kidfic, Christmas, Humor

it’s you I want to take apart || orphan_account || 5.9k Canon, Established Relationship, Make Up, Soft

She Feels So Good || zedi || 4.1k Canon, Genderqueer Harry, Daddy Kink

whatever chains are holding you back || @lookslikefairytale || 4.1k Canon, XFactor Judge Louis, Coming Out

powerless (and I don't care) || @voulezloux || 4k Canon, Dom/Sub, Post FITFWT, Rough Sex, PWP, Daddy Kink

The Wrath of Gucci || louisunflower6 || 3.7k   Canon, Just fluffy, Some domestic bliss

Mon Petit || coffinofachimera || 3.5k Canon, Dom/Sub, Exhibitionism, Mile High Club

Just for you || @gaycousinlarry || 3.1k Canon, Fluff, Comfort

Pimp it! || @teamlouis2022 || 3k Established Relationship, Canon, Pwp

To boyfriends everywhere - Fuck you || Rosa_000 || 3k Canon, Drunk Harry, Established Relationship, Humor

Let Me Take Care Of You || @tommokat || 2.9k Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship

living love in slow motion || ashavahishta || 2.7k Canon, Fluff, Domesticity

is my baby not satisfied? || @greeneyesfriedrice || 2.6k Canon, Knuckle Tattoos, Pwp

Advent Drabbles || @berzerkshires || 2.5k Canon, Christmas, Fun/Fluff/Humor/Mild Smut

Do you think I’m cool || @sadaveniren || 2.2k Wankfest, Canon, Dom/Sub, Long Distance

I was born like this, don’t even gotta try || @cyantific || 1.7k Domestic Fluff, PWP, Canon

written all over your face || rebarboa || 1.6k Established Relationship, Canon, Humor and Smut

Lovely, made from love || userkant || 1.4k  Canon, Harry wants a baby

Wrap Your Legs Around Me || @evilovesyou || >1k Canon, Fluff, 2 Week Rule

#tracksintheam #trackinghappily #trackinghome #1dsource #fic rec #fic rec list #larry fic rec #my fic rec lists #canon #going to be posting these on Thursdays now! #So see you next Thursday for abo! #canon compliant #this one had to be a read more sorrryyyyyy

[humiliatingsluts]

My dream is to annoy a man with my argumentative personality until he decides to teach me what my mouth is really for, by hate fucking my throat. He genuinely hates me and wants to humiliate and hurt me. My eyes well up with tears and I try to apologize but all that comes out is "Gluck Gluck Gluck!!" which ends up being the name of the porn video he publishes for everyone to see. Eventually he turns me around and spreads my cheeks so the camera can get a closeup of my tight, barely used holes. He documents how they begin to stretch as he shoves fingers and objects inside. Eventually the livechat on the stream begins to laugh at my gape. They're all people from my college class, watching their most annoying and loud-mouthed classmate get what it deserves. I was the only non-male in the whole program, I only got in through a diversity initiative. Everyone saw me as a stupid bitch who didn't deserve to be there. The pictures and videos would become an internet sensation, with memes portraying me as a retarded fleshlight. With no chance to recover a career or normal life, I am forced to accept my abuser as my pimp. He takes most of the profit my slut holes generate, but I am grateful for him rescuing me. I suck him off loyally every night, swallowing his cum and piss. If I'm lucky, he'll let me lick his asshole while he tells me what a dumb pig I am, how I am setting the feminist movement back by hundreds of years, and how I am spoiled for having my mind break early into my transformation. He wishes the feminazi and debater could see how depraved and defiled it is.

This is hot, I can literally feel your mind degenerating as you kept coming up with ways to be more and more gross as you wrote it. I’d make you a pornstar famous for being a limitless broken cunt.

#asks

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wasted 9

Warnings: drug dealing/use, violence, noncon, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

(Yes I'm procrastinating rn)

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

The other girl in this one is from Black Light

Part of The Club AU

You sit behind the glass and yawn in the deathly din of the transit office. You lazily scroll a finger over your phone. The brief rush has dissipated so now you're free to read old forums about the cult classic show you've been bingeing.

Despite your hours being cut, every shift feels too long. The time is dull as most people buy their passes online or get tickets at a kiosk in the mall. So you work is minimal and the pay even less. Not to mention, your patience.

You lean your chin in your hand and press your finger to your lashes, trying to keep the old mascara from stinging your eyes. The chirp of the sensor has you sitting up and you nearly bite your tongue as you try to greet the customer. Not him!

“Closed,” you lie and reach for the metal gate above, struggling to clasp onto the handle.

“Hours say–”

“Get the fuck out, dude,” you snarl and hop, rolling down the grate and slamming it into place.

You swear as it hits your phone, knocking it through the small slot under the glass partition, locking it out and you in. You lock the bottom, not caring about the burner. Fuck it, you only ever text Snicky.

“Come on, doll,” Bucky stops by your phone, bending to pick it up, “how many of these you lost so far?”

He wiggles the phone at you, am eighty dollar Polaroid piece of shit.

“Leave me alone.”

“Ah, what's happened to customer service these days?” He tuts and comes closer, shoulder broad and rolling. “Look, I'm not here for me, right?” He tucks your phone in his jacket pocket, “my friend, Steve, the string bean, he likes you.”

“I don't fucking know you. Or him. And I don't wanna know you–”

“You don't? Cause I think I got to know you pretty well–”

“Fucking ass–”

“Let's not keep going through this, alright? Now, I've been pretty damn nice. Do you know how much you can learn from a phone? I know you're about thirty-seven dollars in overdraft and your Instagram keeps popping up with pictures of that dumb girl that hangs off you.”

“How, I–”

“Locked me out? You think,” he taps on the glass on the other side of the gate, “what if I made you a deal?”

“I'm not into the hard stuff,” you scoff.

“Didn't seem to mind it,” he winks, “maybe coulda gone for something lighter…”

“What do you want?” You bark.

“Alright, alright, like I said, it's not me,” he smirks, his gaze creeping up and down your figure. “My friend, he's got no luck with the girls. Told me you stood up for him. That's sweet despite… being you.”

“So you wanna be my pimp? Oh, fuck off–”

“A date. That's it.” His hand tightens in his pocket, gripping your phone. “Humour him. He's been moping about you all week.”

“Yeah right, I'm not stupid–”

“You won't see me. Really, I got plans. Saturday's are good for business, not worth the cut.”

Your nostrils flare. You want to be done with it, him, that club, and all the losers who hang out there. You bite down and cross your arms, glaring at him.

“How about… three hundred?” He offers. “Up front.”

He shifts and pulls the phone out of his pocket. He sets it before the slot in the window then reaches into his back pocket. He takes out his wallet and counts several bills.

“He'll pay for dinner. He's the old fashioned type, you know? Just wear something sexy.”

You scowl, furrowing your nose as your mouth dries. You can't believe you're even considering this. Are you that low?

Well, hes offering as much as you get in a week and the last chunk of your rent. So yes, you are.

“Saturday?” You ask crisply.

“Seven,” he slides the money and phone against the bottom of the gate, “I'll send you the time and place.”

“If I even hear your name–”

“Relax,” he backs up, “I got mine. Just take it easy on my pal.” He smirks and uns his thumb along his bottom lip, “he's a virgin.”

“You're nasty.”

“Oh I know I'm just your type but he's better for you,” he chuckles and turns, stalking to the door, “and if you don't show, I'll be back to collect and trust,” he pauses, “I always get what I'm owed.”

The door swings shut and you stare after him. Slowly you look down and unlock the gate. You push it up and reach for the phone and the bills. The skinny one can’t cause you that much trouble, can he?

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