#More in reblogs for people who can't use their brain

[thepencilnerd]

When the Sun Hits

summary: What begins as a hospital-wide power outage leaves you trapped in a supply closet with your emotionally unavailable attending. But when the lights come back on, what lingers between you can’t be shut off so easily. genre/notes: forced proximity, slow burn, panic attack + trauma comfort, domestic fluff, my fave kind of intimacy, mutual pining, humor/crack, soft!Jack that can't flirt for shit, idiots in love but neither of them will admit it, you discover you have a praise kink in the most inconvenient of ways, jack abbot on his knees—literally warnings: references to trauma, depiction of a panic attack, mentions of grief and burnout, implied but not explicit smut word count: ~ 7.2k a/n: down bad for whipped Jack Abbot. p.s., thank you to everyone who reblogs/replies/takes the time to read my brain vomit, i appreciate you more than you know ㅠㅠ <3

You had just turned to ask Jack if he could grab another tray of 32 French chest tubes when the lights cut out.

One second, the supply closet was bathed in its usual flickering overhead light—and the next, everything dropped into darkness. Sharp. Sudden.

You froze, one hand on the bin. Jack swore behind you.

"Shit," he muttered, somewhere just inside the door. The backup emergency lights flickered red from the hallway, but barely touched the cramped space around you.

Then the intercom crackled overhead: Code Yellow. Facility-wide outage. All staff remain on current floors. Secure all medications and patients.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Automatic lock.

You turned just as Jack tried the handle. It didn’t budge.

He sighed. "Well. That’s one way to guarantee a five-minute break."

You looked at him sharply, but he was already scanning the room, looking for anything useful, keeping his voice light.

"Guess we’re stuck for a bit," he added.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The air felt too tight in your lungs, too warm all of a sudden.

Because now, the supply closet didn’t just feel small.

It felt like it was closing in.

It had been a normal day.

Or as normal as anything ever was around here—high-pressure shifts balanced by the strange rhythm you and Jack had settled into over the past few years. You worked together well—efficient, quick to anticipate each other's needs, almost telepathic during traumas. Partners in crime, someone had once joked. Probably Robby.

You’d learned how to read his silences—the kind that weren’t dismissive but deliberate, like he was giving you space without needing to say it aloud. He’d learned how to decode your muttered curses and side glances, how to step in behind you without crowding, how to let his shoulder bump yours during charting when words failed you both.

There was a kind of ease between you, a rhythm that didn’t require explanation. He’d hand you tools before you asked for them. You’d finish his sentences when he gave consults. Even in chaos, your partnership felt oddly... quiet. Intimate, in a way that crept in slowly, like warmth from a mug clasped between two hands after a long shift.

When you were paired on trauma, nurses and med students stopped asking who was lead. They knew you moved as one.

People had started to notice—how the two of you always seemed to stay overtime on the same days, how Jack would make dry, cutting jokes around others but soften them just enough when talking to you. Robby, in particular, teased him about it relentlessly.

"Jack, blink twice if this is you flirting," he’d once called across the ER after Jack mumbled, "Great work Dr. L/N," while watching you tie off a flawless stitch or nailing a differential.

Jack huffed. "It’s efficient. She's efficient."

"God, you’re hopeless," Robby laughed.

"She’s my best resident," Jack shot back, like it explained everything. Like it wasn’t a deflection.

You snorted into your coffee. "You say that like it’s not the fifth time this week."

Jack, without missing a beat: "That’s because it’s true. I value consistency."

He was awful at flirting—stiff and dry and chronically understated—but you’d grown to read the fondness buried in the flat delivery.

Like the morning he handed you your favorite protein bar without a word and then said, as you blinked at him, "Don’t faint. You’ll ruin my numbers."

Or the time he stood outside your call room after a brutal night shift, coffee in hand, and muttered, "You deserve a nap, but I guess you’ll have to settle for caffeine and my sparkling company."

He always made sure to loop you in on the interesting cases—"Figure it’s good for your development," he’d say. But then linger just a little too long after rounds, just to hear your thoughts.

And when you were quiet too long, when something in you withdrew, he never asked outright. Just gave you space—and a clipboard he’d pre-filled, or a shift swap you hadn’t requested, or the gentlest, "You good?" when you passed each other by the scrub sinks.

And now, here you were. Trapped in a closet with the man who rarely made jokes—and never blushed—except when you were around.

Now, you were stuck. Together.

The air felt thin but simultaneously stuffed to the brim.

Jack turned on his penlight, sweeping the beam across the room. "We’re fine," he said, calm and certain. "Generator will kick in soon."

You nodded. Tried to match his steadiness. Failed.

The closet was small. Smaller than it had ever felt before.

The walls crept in.

You didn’t notice the way your hands started to shake until he said your name.

Your vision tunneled. The room blurred at the edges, corners shrinking in like someone was folding the walls inward. The air felt heavy, every breath catching at the top of your throat before it could sink deep enough to matter. It felt like someone had filled your veins with liquid lead, your entire body suddenly weighing too much to hold upright. You staggered back a step, hand scrambling blindly for something to anchor you—shelf, handle, Jack. Your heart was pounding—loud, ragged, out of sync with time itself.

You tried to swallow. Couldn’t.

Sweat prickled your scalp. Your fingers tingled, every nerve on fire. Your knees gave out beneath you, and you crumbled to the floor—head buried between your knees, hands clasped behind your neck, trying to fold yourself into a singularity. Anything to disappear. Anything to slip away from this moment and the way it pressed in on all sides. There was no exit. No sound but your own spiraling thoughts and the slow, careful way Jack said your name again.

You blinked. Your eyes wouldn’t focus.

"Hey," Jack coaxed, his voice cutting through the static—low and steady, somehow still distant. His full attention was on you now, gaze locked in, unmoving. "Breathe."

You couldn’t.

It hit like a wave—sharp and silent, rising in your chest like pressure, no space, no air, no exit.

Jack’s hands found your shoulders. "I’ve got you. You’re okay. Stay with me, yeah?"

He crouched in front of you, grounding you with steady pressure and careful, deliberate calm. His hands—firm, callused, the kind that had seen years of split-second decisions and endless sutures—gripped your upper arms with a touch that was impossibly gentle. Like he could mold you back into yourself with his palms alone. His thumbs brushed lightly, not demanding, just present. Just there.

"Can you breathe with me?" he asked. "In for four. Okay? One, two, three…"

You tried. You really did.

Your chest still felt locked, ribs tight around panic like a vice, but his voice—low and even—threaded through the chaos.

"Out for four," he murmured, exhaling slowly, deliberately, like the sound alone could show your body how to follow. "Good. Just like that."

The faint light dimmed between you, casting his face in half-shadow. He was close now—close enough for you to catch the scent of antiseptic and something warm underneath, something that reminded you of winter nights and clean laundry.

"You’re here," he said again, softer this time. "You’re safe. Nothing’s coming. You’ve got space."

You reached out blindly, fingers finding the edge of his sleeve and clutching it like a lifeline.

"Good girl," Jack said softly, instinctively, like it slipped out without permission.

Your brain short-circuited. Of all things, in all moments—that was what hooked your attention. You let out a strangled little laugh, shaky and almost hysterical. "Fucking hell," you murmured, pressing your face into your arm. "Why is that what got me breathing again?"

Jack blinked, startled for a second—then let out the smallest huff of relief, like he was holding back a smirk. "Hey, if it works, I’ll say it again," he said, a thread of warmth sneaking into his voice.

You groaned, half-burying your face in your elbow. "Please don’t."

He was still crouched in front of you, his tone gentler now, teasing on purpose, like he was giving you something else to hold onto. "Admit it—you just wanted to hear me say something nice for once."

"Jack," you warned, half-laughing, half-crying.

"You’re doing great," he said quietly, real again. "You’re okay. I’ve got you."

And eventually—one shaky inhale at a time—your lungs obeyed.

When the power came back on, you stood side-by-side in the wash of fluorescent light, blinking against it.

You were still trembling faintly, your breaths shallow but more even now. Jack didn’t step away. Not right away.

"Feeling better?" he asked, voice low, steady.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

Jack stood slowly, offering a hand. You took it, letting him pull you up. His grip lingered just a second longer than necessary.

Then he tried, awkwardly, to lighten the mood. "If calling you a good girl was really all it took, then I’ve been severely underutilizing my motivational toolkit."

You let out a startled laugh, breath catching mid-sound. "Jesus, don’t start."

He gave you a crooked smile—relieved, even if the corners of it were still tight with concern. "Whatever works, right? Next time I’ll try it with more enthusiasm."

"Next time?" Your eyes widened like saucers—absolutely flabbergasted, half-tempted to dissolve into laughter or hit him with the nearest supply tray.

He shrugged, another smug grin threatening to cross his lips. "Just saying. If you’re going to unravel in a closet, might as well do it with someone who knows where to find the defibrillator."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t let go of his hand until the light flickered again.

Only then did you both step apart.

You didn’t say much.

He didn’t ask you to.

You’d made it as far as the locker room before the adrenaline crash hit. You rinsed your face, changed into sweats, and shoved your scrubs into your bag with trembling fingers. Jack had walked you out of the department without a word, just a hand hovering near your lower back.

"Thanks," you said quietly, as you scanned out. "For earlier."

Jack shook his head, like it was nothing. "You don’t need to thank me."

"Still," you said. "Just… please don’t mention it to anyone?"

He looked over at you, mouth twitching at the corner. "Mention what?"

That made you laugh—brief, breathless. "Right."

You parted ways near the waiting room, sharing your usual post-shift goodbyes.

Or so you thought.

Jack had been about to leave when he saw you—doubling back through the double doors, slipping through the staff-only entrance and back into the ER.

His brow furrowed.

He hesitated, then turned to follow.

The corridor was quiet. Most of the day shift hadn’t arrived yet, and the call room hallway echoed faintly under his footsteps. He paused outside the on-call room and knocked once, gently. When there was no response, he eased the door open.

The room was cramped and windowless, just enough space for a narrow bunk bed and a scuffed metal chair in the corner. The mattress dipped in the middle, the kind of sag that never quite let you forget your own weight. The attached bathroom offered a stall that barely passed for a shower—low pressure, eternally lukewarm, and loud enough to make you question whether it was working or crying for help. It felt more like a last resort than a place to rest.

Your bag was on the bed. Half-unpacked. Toothbrush laid out. Socks tucked into the corner. Like you were staying in a hotel. Like you’d been staying here.

He was still standing there when the bathroom door cracked open and you stepped out—hair damp, towel knotted tightly around your torso.

You both froze.

Your eyes widened. Jack’s went comically wide before he spun around on instinct, shielding his eyes like it was second nature. "Shit—sorry, I didn’t—"

"What are you doing here?" you asked at the exact same time he blurted, "What are you doing here?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

Jack cleared his throat, ears bright red. "I… saw you come back in. Just wanted to check."

You were still standing in place like a deer in headlights, towel clutched in a death grip.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, eyes very pointedly still on the wall, as if the peeling paint had suddenly become the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

Fingers clenched around the edge of the towel, embarrassment prickled across your chest like static. "One second," you murmured, disappearing back into the bathroom before either of you could say anything more.

A minute later, the door creaked open and you stepped out again—now wrapped in an oversized hoodie and soft, baggy sweatpants that made you look small, almost swallowed whole by comfort. Jack’s brain did something deeply inconvenient at the sight.

You lingered in the doorway, sleeves tugged down over your hands, damp hair framing your face. "You can look now," you said, voice softer this time.

Jack didn’t move at first. He shifted his weight, cleared his throat in a way that sounded more like a stall tactic than anything physiological. Only after a beat did he finally turn, cautiously, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

He caught himself staring. Made a mental note not to think about it later. Failed almost immediately.

A breath left your lungs, quieter than the room deserved. You crossed to the bunk and sat down on the edge, fingers fidgeting with the seam of your sweatpants. "You can sit, if you want," you said, barely above a whisper.

The mattress shifted a second later as Jack lowered himself beside you, careful, slow—like he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to get. His knee brushed yours. He didn’t move it. You didn't pull away. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, a long exhale dragging out of you like it had been caught behind your ribs all night. "I’ve been staying here," you said finally. "Not every night. Just... enough of them."

You looked over at him, then down at your hands. "It’s not about work. I just... I didn’t want to go back to an empty place and hear it echo. Didn’t want to hear myself think. Breathe. This place—at least there’s always noise. Even if it’s bad, it’s something."

That made him pause.

"I don’t want to be alone..." you added, quieter.

Jack was quiet for a moment, then nodded once, slow. "Why didn’t you tell me?" he asked, voice quieter than before. "You know I’m always here for you."

You looked down at your lap. "I didn’t want to be a burden."

Your fingers twitched, and before you realized it, you’d started picking at a loose thread along your cuff. Jack’s hands came up gently, catching yours before you could do more than graze your skin. He held them between his palms—warm, steady. Soothing.

His thumbs brushed over your knuckles. "You never have to earn being cared about," he said softly. "Not with me."

A few moments passed in silence. He still hadn’t let go of your hand.

Then, quietly, Jack reached into his pocket.

And handed you a key.

"I have a spare room," he said, voice low. "No expectations. No questions. Just… if you need it."

You stared at the key. Then at him.

He still didn’t look away, even as his voice gentled. "Don’t sleep here. Not if it hurts."

You took the key.

Not right away—but you did. Slipped it into the front pocket of your hoodie like it might vanish otherwise, like the metal might burn a hole through the fabric if you held it too long.

Jack didn’t press. Didn’t ask for promises.

He stood to leave and paused in the doorway.

"I’ll leave the light on," he said. "Just in case."

You didn’t answer right away. Just nodded, barely, and stared at the key in your lap long after the door shut behind him.

The call room was quiet after he left.

Too quiet.

You stared at the key until your fingers itched, then tucked it beneath your pillow like it needed protecting—from you, from the space, from the hollow echo of loneliness that filled the room once Jack was gone.

You didn’t sleep that night. Not really.

And two days later—after another long shift, after you’d showered in the same miserable excuse for plumbing, after you’d sat cross-legged on the cot trying to convince yourself to just go home—you took the key out of your pocket.

You didn’t text him.

You just went.

The last time you'd been to his place was different. Less quiet. More raw.

It was the night after a shift that left the entire ER shell-shocked. You'd both ended up at Jack’s apartment with takeout containers and too much to drink. You’d lost a kid—ten years old, blunt trauma, thirty-eight minutes of resuscitation, and it still wasn’t enough. Jack had lost a veteran. OD. The kind of case that stuck to his ribs.

He’d handed you a beer without a word. The two of you had sat on opposite ends of his couch, silence stretching between you like a third presence until you broke it with a hoarse, "I keep hearing his mother scream."

Jack didn’t look away. "I keep thinking I should’ve caught it sooner."

The conversation didn’t get lighter. But it got easier.

At some point, you’d both ended up sitting on the floor, backs against the couch, knees bent and shoulders almost brushing.

He told you about Iraq. About the first time he held pressure on someone’s chest and knew it wouldn’t matter.

You told him about your first code as an intern and the way it rewired something you’ve never quite gotten back.

He didn’t touch you. Didn’t need to. Just passed you another drink and said, "I’m glad you were there today."

And for a while, it was enough—being there, even if neither of you knew how to say why.

You’d gotten absolutely wasted that night. The kind of drunk that swung from giggles to tears and back again. Somewhere between your third drink and fourth emotional whiplash, you started dancing around his living room barefoot, music crackling from his ancient Bluetooth speaker. Tears for Fears was playing—Everybody Wants to Rule the World—and you twirled with your arms raised like the only way to survive grief was to outpace it.

Jack watched from the floor, amused. Smiling to himself. Maybe a little enamored.

You beckoned him up with exaggerated jazz hands. "C’mon, dance with me."

He shook his head, raising both palms. "No one needs to see that."

You marched over, grabbed his hands, and tugged hard enough to get him upright. He stumbled, laughing under his breath, and let you spin him like a carousel horse. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t even really dancing. But it was you—vivid and loud and alive—and something in him ached with the sight of it.

He didn’t say anything that night.

But the way he looked at you said enough.

You were still holding his hands from the dance, your breathing slowing, your laughter softening into something tender. The overhead light had gone dim, the playlist shifting into quieter melodies, but you didn’t let go. Your fingers stayed laced behind his neck, your forehead nearly resting against his chest.

Jack’s palms found your waist—not possessive, just steady. Grounding. His thumbs pressed gently against your sides, and for a moment, you swayed in place like the world wasn’t full of ghosts. You were sobering up, but not rushing. Not running.

You hadn’t meant for the dance to turn into this. But he didn’t step away.

Didn’t look away either.

Just held you, as if the act itself might keep you both tethered to something real.

You woke the next morning to the sound of soft clinking—metal against ceramic, a pan being set down gently on the stovetop.

The smell of coffee drifted in first. Then eggs. Something buttery. Your head pounded—dull, insistent—but your body felt warm under the blanket someone had pulled up around your shoulders during the night.

Padding quietly down the hall, you peeked into the kitchen.

Jack stood at the stove, hair ever so slightly tousled from sleep, wearing the same faded t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants that made your chest ache with something you couldn’t name. He hadn’t seen you yet—was humming under his breath, absently stirring a pan with practiced rhythm.

You leaned against the doorframe.

"Are you seriously making breakfast?"

He turned, eyes crinkling. "You say that like it’s not a medically necessary intervention."

You snorted, stepping in. "You’re using a cast iron. I didn’t even know you owned one."

"Don’t tell Robby. He thinks I survive on rage and vending machine coffee."

You slid onto one of the stools, blinking blearily against the light. Jack set a mug in front of you without being asked—just the way you liked it. Just like always.

"You were a menace last night," he said lightly, pouring eggs into the pan.

You groaned, cupping your hands around the mug. "Oh god. Please don’t recap."

He grinned. "No promises. But the dance moves were impressive. You almost took me out during that one twirl."

"That’s because you wouldn’t dance with me!"

"I was trying to protect my knees."

You laughed, head tipping back slightly. Jack just watched you, eyes soft, like the sound of it made something settle inside him.

And for a moment, the silence that settled between you wasn’t hollow at all.

It was full.

If only tonight's circumstances were different. 

Jack opened the door in sweatpants and a black v-neck that looked older than his medical degree. He blinked when he saw you—then smiled, just a little. Not wide. Not obvious. But real. The kind of expression that said he hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted to see you until you were there.

He said nothing.

After a slow smile: "Didn’t expect to see you again so soon," he said lightly, trying to break the ice. "Unless you’re here to critique my towel-folding technique."

Lifting your hand slowly, the key warm against your skin, you tilted your head with a deadpan expression. "Wouldn’t dream of it," you said, tone dry—almost too dry—but not quite hiding the twitch of a smile. Jack’s mouth quirked at the corner.

Then you held the key out fully, and he stepped aside without a word.

"Spare room’s on the left," he said. “Bathroom’s across from it. The towels are clean. I think."

You smiled, a little helplessly. "Thanks."

Jack’s voice was soft behind you. "That was a joke, by the way. The towel thing."

You turned slightly. "What?"

He shrugged, almost sheepish. "Trying to lighten the mood," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but at you. "Make it... easier. Or, y'know. Less weird. That was the goal."

The admission caught you off guard. Jack Abbot had a tendency to ramble when he was nervous, and this was definitely that.

You didn’t say anything right away, but your smile—this time—was a little steadier. A little sweeter.

"Careful, Jack," you murmured, feigning seriousness. "If you keep being charming, I might start expecting it."

He looked like he wanted to say something else. His mouth opened, then closed again as he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly debating whether to double down or play it cool.

"Guess I’ll go work on my stand-up material," he mumbled, half under his breath.

You bit back a laugh.

He ran a hand through his hair again—classic stall tactic—then finally nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

The room he offered you was small, clearly unused, but tidy in a way that suggested recent care. A folded towel sat at the foot of the bed. A new toothbrush—still in its packaging—rested on the nightstand. The faint scent of cedar lingered in the air, mixing with the soft clean trace of his detergent. The air had that faint freshness of a recently opened window, and the corners were free of dust. Someone had aired it out. Someone had taken the time to make space—room that hadn’t existed before, cleared just enough to let another person in.

You set your bag down and sat on the edge of the bed, fingers brushing over the blanket. Everything felt soft. Considered. You stared at the corner of the room like it might give you answers.

It didn’t.

But it didn’t feel like a hospital either.

You took your time in the shower, letting the heat soak into your skin until the mirror fogged over and your thoughts slowed just enough to feel manageable. Jack's body wash smelled different on you—deeper, warmer somehow—and the scent clung faintly to your skin as you pulled on the softest clothes you had packed: shorts and an oversized shirt you barely remembered grabbing.

When you stepped out of the guest room, damp hair still clinging to your neck, the smell of garlic and something gently sizzling greeted you first. Jack was in the kitchen, stirring a pot with practiced ease, the kind of domestic ease that tugged at something inside you.

He turned when he heard your footsteps—and froze for a beat too long.

His eyes swept over you and caught on your hair, your shirt, the visible curve of your collarbone, the quietness about you that hadn't been there earlier. He blinked, clearly trying to recover, and failed miserably.

"Hey," you said gently, brushing some damp strands behind your ear. "Need help with anything?"

Jack cleared his throat—once, then again—and turned back to the stove, ears visibly reddening. "I think I’m good," he said. "Unless you want to make sure I don’t burn the rice."

You crossed the room and leaned against the counter next to him, still slightly bashful yourself. The scent of his soap clung to your sleeves, and Jack caught a trace of it on the air. He said nothing—but stirred a little slower. A little more carefully.

"Your apartment’s just as nice as I remembered," you said, soft and genuine, fingers brushing the edge of the countertop.

Jack glanced over at you, a flicker of something warm behind his eyes. "You mean the sterile surfaces and suspiciously outdated spice rack?"

You gave him a knowing smile. "I mean the parts that feel like you."

That stopped him for a second. His stirring slowed to a halt. He looked back down at the pot, a faint smile ghosting over his lips.

"Careful," he murmured, voice low. "If you keep saying things like that, I might start thinking you actually like me."

You nudged his elbow gently. "I might. Don’t let it go to your head."

He smiled to himself, the kind of expression that didn't need to be seen to be felt. And in the soft space between those words, something settled. Easier. Closer.

Dinner was simple—pan-seared salmon, rice, roasted vegetables. Nothing fancy, but everything assembled with care. Jack Abbot, it turned out, could cook.

You said so after the first bite—and let out a soft, involuntary moan. Jack froze mid-chew, raised a brow, and gave you a look.

"Wow," he said dryly, lips twitching. "Should I be offended or flattered?"

You felt heat rise across your cheeks, laughing as you covered your mouth with your napkin. "Don't tell me you're jealous of a piece of salmon?"

He grinned. "I’m a man of many talents," he said dryly, passing you the pepper mill. "Just don’t ask me to bake."

You smiled over your glass of water, a little more relaxed now. "No offense, but I didn’t exactly have ‘culinary savant’ on my Jack Abbot bingo card."

He shot you a look. "What was on the card?"

You hummed, pretending to think. "Chronic insomniac. Secret softie. Closet hoarder of protein bars. Dad joke connoisseur."

Jack snorted, setting down his fork. "You’re lucky the salmon’s good or I’d be deeply offended."

You grinned. "So you admit it."

And he did—not in words, but in the way his gaze lingered a moment too long across the table. In the way he refilled your glass as soon as it dipped below halfway. In the quiet, sheepish curve of his smile when you caught him looking. In the way his laugh lost its usual edge and softened, like maybe—just maybe—he could get used to this.

After dinner, you moved to the sink before Jack could protest. He tried, weakly, something about guests and hospitality, but you waved him off and started rinsing plates.

Jack came up behind you, handing over dishes one by one as you scrubbed and loaded them into the dishwasher to dry. His presence was warm at your back, the occasional graze of his hand or arm sending tiny shivers up your spine. The silence between you was companionable, laced with unspoken things neither of you quite knew how to name.

"You’re seriously not gonna let me help?" he asked, bumping your hip with his.

"This is letting you help," you shot back. "You’re the designated passer."

"Such a glamorous title," he murmured, his voice low near your ear. "Do I get a badge?"

You glanced at him over your shoulder, a smile tugging at your lips. "Only if you survive the suds.

Jack leaned in just as you turned back to the sink, and for a moment, your arms brushed, your shoulders aligned. His gaze lingered on you again—your profile, your damp hair starting to curl at the edges, the stretch of your shirt down your back.

You glanced back at him, close enough now to kiss, breath caught halfway between surprise and anticipation when—

Jack dipped his finger into the soap bubbles and tapped the tip of your nose.

You blinked, stunned. "Did you just—"

Jack held your wide-eyed gaze a beat longer, then said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Nice look, Bubbles."

And the dam broke. You laughed, bright and unguarded, flicking water in his direction.

He dodged each droplet as best he could with a grin, triumphant. "I stand by my methods."

You scooped a pile of bubbles into your hand with deliberate menace.

Jack immediately backed away, holding both palms up like he was under arrest. "No. No no no—"

You grinned, nodding slowly with mock gravity. The chase ensued. He darted around the counter, nearly tripping on the rug as you chased after him, suds in hand and laughter trailing like a siren’s call. He was fast—but you were relentless.

"Truce!" he yelped, dropping to his knees in front of you, hands held high in mock surrender.

You smirked, one brow raised. "Hmm. I don’t know… this feels like a trap."

Jack looked up at you with wide, pleading eyes. "Mercy. Have mercy. I’ll do whatever you want—just don’t soap me."

You hummed, pretending to consider it. "Anything?"

"Within reason. And dignity. Maybe." He started lowering his hands.

You tilted your head, letting the moment draw out. Jack watched you carefully, breath held, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"I mean…" he started. "If praise is your thing, you’re doing a fantastic job intimidating me right now."

Your mouth parted, stunned. "Did you just—"

Jack smirked, sensing an opening. "You excel at it. Really. Top tier menace."

You laughed, nearly doubling over. "Oh my god. You’re the worst." The bubbles had dissipated by now, leaving you with only damp hands. 

"And yet, here you are," he said, still kneeling, still grinning.

You shook your head, stray droplets slipping from your hand, your laughter easing into something softer. "Get up, you idiot."

But Jack didn’t—not right away. Still on his knees, he inched closer, crawling forward with slow, deliberate grace. His hands found your thighs, resting there gently, like a prayer. Thumbs stroked the place where skin met fabric, featherlight and reverent.

"I mean it," he said, voice quieter now, almost solemn. "You terrify me."

Your breath caught.

"In the best way," he added, gaze lifting. "You walk into a trauma bay like you own it. You fight like hell for your patients. You get under my skin without even trying."

His hands slid up slowly, still gentle, still hesitant, like waiting for permission. "Sometimes I think the only thing I believe in anymore is you."

Your heart thudded. Your hands, still damp, twitched against your sides.

"You deserve to be worshipped," he murmured, and that was when your knees nearly buckled.

The joke was long forgotten. The laughter faded. All that was left was the way Jack looked at you now—like he wasn’t afraid of the quiet anymore.

His hands had made a slow, reverent climb to your bare skin, thumbs sweeping small, anchoring circles into your skin. You felt the heat of him everywhere, your body taut with anticipation, nerves stretched thin. He didn’t rush. Just looked up at you, drinking in every unsteady breath, every flicker of hesitation in your gaze.

"You’re shaking," he murmured, voice low. If you weren't so dazed, you could've sworn you heard a shadow of amusement. "You want to stop?"

You shook your head—barely—and he nodded like he understood something sacred.

"I want you to feel good," he said softly, leaning in to press the lightest kiss to your thigh, just below the hem of your shirt. "I want to take my time with you. If you’ll let me?"

The question lodged in your chest like a plea. You couldn’t speak, only nodded, and his hands flexed slightly in response. 

Jack stood first, rising fluidly, eyes never leaving yours. As he straightened, your hands found his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands at the base of his neck. That was all it took—the smallest pull, the softest touch—and the space between you collapsed.

Not in chaos, not in desperation, but in something careful. Like reverence wrapped in desire. Like he’d been waiting for this, quietly, for longer than he dared admit.

And when his lips met yours, it was a live wire.

Deep. Soft. Unapologetically tender.

But it didn’t stay chaste. Jack’s hands found your hips, drawing you closer, fitting your bodies together like a secret only the two of you knew how to keep. His tongue brushed yours in a slow, exploratory sweep, and you gasped against his mouth, fingers fisting in the back of his shirt.

The kiss turned hungry, molten—slow-burning restraint giving way to a need you both had held too tightly for too long. Jack’s hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing the curve of your spine, and you arched into him, a quiet gasp slipping free.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmured between kisses, voice thick, reverent.

You pulled back just enough to whisper, "Don’t you dare."

That was all he needed.

And when he kissed you again, it was like promise and prayer and everything you hadn’t let yourself want until now.

His hands moved with aching care—one sliding up your spine to cradle the back of your neck, the other splaying wide at your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was slow and encompassing, more smolder than spark, until it wasn’t—until it ignited all at once.

Jack walked you backward until your hips bumped the counter, and he pressed into the space you gave him, forehead resting against yours. "You undo me," he whispered, breath trembling against your lips. "Every single time."

You were already breathless, clinging to his shirt, heart pounding in your throat.

His mouth found yours again, deeper this time, hands exploring—confident now, reverent, like he was learning every part of you for the first time and never wanted to forget. You moaned softly into the kiss, and Jack cursed under his breath, low and ragged, like the sound had torn through his composure.

And then there was no more space. No more distance. Just heat, and hunger, and the slow unraveling of restraint as Jack lifted you gently onto the counter, your knees parting for him, his name spilling from your lips like a secret.

You kissed like the world was ending. Like this was your only chance to get it right. He needed to feel you pressed against him to believe it wasn’t just a dream.

The kiss deepened, urgent and breathless, until Jack was devouring every sound you made, like he could live off the way you whimpered into his mouth. He groaned low in his throat when your nails scraped lightly down his back, your body arching into his hands like instinct.

He touched you like a man memorizing, devout and thorough—hands mapping the curve of your waist, mouth dragging heat across your throat. He tasted sweat and shampoo and you, and that alone nearly undid him. You felt the tension coil in his spine, the restraint he was holding like a dam, every movement deliberate.

"God," he rasped, lips at your ear, "you have no idea what you do to me."

And when you gasped again, hips shifting, he exhaled a shaky breath like he was trying not to fall apart just from the sound.

"You smell like my soap," he murmured with a rough chuckle, nosing along your jaw. "But you still taste like you."

You whimpered, and he kissed you again—harder now, letting the hunger break through, swallowing your reaction like a man starved.

He praised you in murmured fragments, over and over, voice low and wrecked.

Beautiful.

Brave.

So fucking good.

Mine.

Each word making your skin feel like it was glowing beneath his hands.

And when he finally took you to bed, it wasn’t rushed or careless—it was everything he hadn’t said before now, every ounce of feeling poured into his mouth on your skin, every whispered breath of worship like he was praying into the hollow of your throat.

Jack kissed you like he needed to memorize the taste of every sound you made, like your skin was the answer to every question he’d never asked out loud. His hands roamed slowly, confidently, with that same quiet focus he wore in trauma bays—except now it was all for you. Every inch of you. His mouth lingered at your collarbone, your ribs, the soft curve of your stomach—pressing his devotion into the places you tried to hide.

You felt undone by how gently he worshipped you, how much he wanted—not just your body, but your breath, your closeness, your everything. He murmured praise against your skin like it was sacred, like you were something holy in his arms.

And when he finally moved over you, hands braced on either side of your head, eyes searching yours like he was asking permission one more time—you nodded.

He exhaled like it hurt to hold back. Then gave you everything.

Every kiss was a promise, every touch a confession. He moved with aching tenderness, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you beneath him, like this wasn’t just sex but something divine. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, breath catching in your throat with every thrust. It wasn’t fast or frantic—it was slow, overwhelming, unbearably close.

He whispered your name like a prayer, forehead pressed to yours, and when you finally came apart beneath him, he followed soon after—undone by the way you sang his name like it was the only thing tethering you to this world.

Later, tangled in blankets and the afterglow, Jack pulled you closer without a word. One hand splayed wide against your back, the other curled around your fingers like he wasn’t ready to let you go—not now, maybe not ever. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the warmth of him, the scent of skin and comfort and safety.

"I’m gonna need you to stop making that noise when you taste food," he murmured eventually, voice sleep-thick and amused.

You huffed a laugh into his shoulder. "Or what?"

"I’ll marry you on the spot. No warning. Just a salmon fillet and a ring pop."

Your laughter shook the bed.

Jack smirked, the ghost of a tease already forming. "If I’d known praise got you going, I’d have started ages ago."

You swatted at his chest, heat blooming across your cheeks. "Don’t you dare weaponize this."

He grinned into your hair, voice low and wrecked and entirely too fond. "Too late. I’m gonna ruin you with kindness."

You huffed, hiding your face in his shoulder.

Jack chuckled and pulled you closer.

You were never going to live this down. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to.

Because Jack Abbot being a secret softie had officially made its triumphant return to your bingo card—and if you were being honest, it had probably been the center square since day one.

"You know," you murmured against his chest, lips curving into a grin, "for someone who acts so stoic at work, you sure have a lot of secrets."

Jack stirred slightly, arm tightening around your waist. "Yeah? Like what?"

You propped yourself up on one elbow, counting off on your fingers. "Total softie. Great cook. An absolute sex god."

Jack groaned into your shoulder, bashful. "Jesus."

"I'm just saying," you teased. "If there’s a hidden talent for needlepoint or poetry, now would be the time to confess."

He lifted his head, eyes heavy with sleep and amusement. "I used to write really bad song lyrics in middle school. That count?"

You laughed, light and easy, your fingers tracing idle circles on his chest. "God, I bet they were terrible."

Jack smirked. "You’ll never know."

"I’ll find them," you said with mock determination. "I’ll unearth them. Just wait."

He kissed your forehead, chuckling softly. "I’m terrified."

And he was—just not of you. Only of how much he wanted this to last.

Jack smiled into your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're incredible, you know that?"

You shook your head, bashful, eyes cast toward the sheets—but Jack didn’t let it slide. His hand curled tighter around yours, his voice still soft but firm. "Hey. I meant that. You are."

When you didn’t answer right away, he leaned in a little closer, his thumb brushing along your wrist. "I need you to hear it. And believe it. You’re—extraordinary."

The earnestness in his voice left you no room to hide. Slowly, your eyes lifted to meet his.

Jack held your gaze like a promise. "Say okay."

"Okay," you whispered, cheeks burning.

He smiled again, slower this time, and kissed your temple once more. "Good girl."

You didn’t answer—just smiled you were on cloud nine and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

Outside, the city was quiet. Inside, you drifted in and out of sleep wrapped in warm limbs and steadier breath, heart finally quiet for the first time in days. Jack’s hand never left yours, his thumb tracing lazy, grounding circles over your knuckles like he needed the reassurance just as much as you did.

Your limbs were tangled with his beneath the softened hush of early morning, the sheets kicked messily down to the foot of the bed. Skin to skin, steady breathing, fingers still loosely clasped where they had found each other in the dark. He shifted just enough to press a kiss to your shoulder, murmured something you didn’t quite catch—but it didn’t matter. The weight of the night had passed. What remained was warmth. Stillness. Something whole.

You fell asleep like that, curled into each other without pretense. Closer than you'd ever planned, safer than you thought possible. And for the first time in what felt like ages, the quiet wasn’t heavy.

It was home.

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[m0ther-of-p3arl]

at this point i will fully just be blocking anyone who says they're voting third party idk how to get it into your brains that by voting third party YOU ARE VOTING FOR DONALD TRUMP. if he wins, you're not getting another chance to vote, you're not getting another election, because he WILL become the dictator. he has smart people behind him, horrible people, but people who know what they're doing and know how to manipulate laws and twist them in ways where trump can do whatever he wants.

if you are voting third party, you are taking away our one chance at winning this thing.

kamala harris is a good candidate. she is the most pro-palestinian candidate we are EVER going to get who actually has a shot at winning this thing. she's a black and south-asian woman who understand the struggles that minorities face and does her best to fix them. she is smart, she is pro-abortion, she is literally the most liberal candidate we will EVER HAVE who has a remote chance at winning. she has a positive stance on lgbtq+ rights and worked to make sure the gay and trans panic defense was removed. she protected children and women and people of all kinds who were sexually assaulted. she made it so that children who were SEX TRAFFICKED wouldn't be prosecuted for BEING TRAFFICKED.

she is a good candidate. hell, she's a GREAT candidate. she's leagues better than biden, at this point i honestly don't know what you all are hoping for. we are never going to get the hyper-liberal, massively far left candidate some of you seem to be hoping for. that's just not a possibility: this is politics. you can't appeal to that tiny corner of the population and still hope to win. i wish you could, but that's just now how it works at this moment in time. kamala harris might be the best presidential candidate in the history of the united states.

and even if she wasn't: have you forgotten what 2016-2020 was like?! have you forgotten who we're fighting against?! because donald trump is a nightmare scenario. he is literally the opposite of everything that liberals and far-left people like myself stand for. when bush was running against al gore, the only reason that there was even a supreme court case that appointed bush was because too many people voted third party. you can't do that shit. i wish you could, i wish we had more options, but we just fucking don't.

so, yeah: come november, go out and vote, and when you do, vote for kamala harris. vote for her so we don't lose everything that we as liberals are fighting for, vote for her for those of us who are too young, vote for her for the best-case scenario that the palestinian people will ever have in this current political climate.

please. please, please vote harris. it's the only option atp.

(i will not be doing discourse in the replies or reblogs. don't even try it.)

[catboybiologist]

So.

Re: tumblr bans of transfemmes.

Let's ignore PhotoMatt for a moment. Manbaby tech CEO doubling down on a stupid decision and making himself look like more of an ass doing so is not a new phenomena.

Tumblr has consistently said, in both public statements and leaked internal communication, that they're essentially running a skeleton crew.

They keep saying that they don't have the resources to moderate, manually review posts, have any kind of appeal process, or anything. So, as people have widely received communications about, they seemed to have automated a significant portion of the moderation to operate solely on the quantity of reports (probably with a basic filter, eg quantity of reports regarding a certain post, within a certain timeframe) to automatically ban or shadowban accounts.

And so, they wipe their hands, both to the users, the public, and their own consciousness, and go about their automated operations.

All of this is likely true. Tumblr, at this point, is essentially abandonware internally, a kind of weird vanity project/dumpster ground for server infrastructure for Automattic. Likely, they don't want the bad press of "shutting down" fully. Or maybe the trickle of revenue they get here just barely exceeds operating costs, so why not keep it around?

Whatever is the case, the bans are a result of an automated process working in the background. I'm giving them some benefit of the doubt here, of course, we can't know anything for certain- but it seems like the individual bans are not based on any specific, manual action.

And that doesn't fucking excuse anything.

Because at some point, multiple people sat down at tumblr, and decided how to cut costs.

And they decided that the bare minimum of report abuse prevention was one of the first things on the chopping block.

Before the boops. Before GUI reconfigures.

They decided to cut something that is necessary to manage online communities.

They decided to cut something that ensures any targeted group will have any kind of community online.

And then, after all of that, the only manual intervention is doubling down on the shitty decisions that the automated systems make, and plucking reasons out of their ass for why they were the right decisions all along.

It's pure silicon valley brain. Blame the computer often and always. Use it to shield the active decisions you made when designing the computer that way. Treat it as a fact of life as opposed to something they actively made decisions for.

Is tumblr staff hitting the banhammer on each transfemme one by one? No.

Is tumblr staff deliberately crafting a system that allows TERFs and other conservative bigots to get rid of the "undesirables" for them? Yup. But they sure as hell are trying to not say the quiet part out loud. If they can always point the finger somewhere else, to the advertisers, to the automated systems, to the TERFs, then they can always have juuusssttt enough plausible deniability.

But being the "queerest place on the internet" requires concious acknowledgement that queer people will be targets of harassment, and you will have to protect against that.

Side note, this is why I do try to keep my blog at least somewhat SFW. Its one of the main reasons why I choose not to reblog all of the posts I'm tagged in- if the post is overtly NSFW, I've probably seen it, appreciated it, and consciously decided my level of interaction with it mostly based on how "tumblr friendly" it is. Is that bowing down to them? A little. It's also my choice. I value the community I have here. The pushes that y'all have given me gave me the strength to transition, and honestly gives me a lot of motivation to research HRT biology as much as I can, among many other things.

Yeah, I post pictures that are clearly meant to be found attractive in ways that are generally not socially acceptable , but never actual NSFW. I would like to think that I'm pretty safe from bans, but hey. Who knows. I don't want to lose my follower base, and the community around it.

And yeah, I'm gonna annoyingly remind you of the other places to find me, make sure to check my pin. If you don't know where to go, just find me on reddit and go from there, I'll post about it if anything happens.

[fashion-runways]

hi!! new pinned post, because the last one had gotten long again-- if you want to read previous posts, here's the first one, here's the second one. the tl;dr from those is that my dad got wrongfully imprisoned abruptly, our place was raided, the cops broke a bunch of shit and took a bunch of our things and still haven't returned them, they left all the broken things for us to spend money in repairing, we had to spend money on a lawyer, trips to visit him, new clothes, medicine and food for him in jail, etc. it was a mess, way more details in both posts. he's back home now, with an ankle monitor because technically his case isn't being investigated yet, they haven't done anything about it at all, the case hasn't moved one ounce lmao it's great, always trust the judicial system and cops!! ugh, anyway!

we found a therapist for my dad who can help her deal with all the stuff he had to deal with while in prison, all the bullying, the depression, the starving, the separation, etc. he needs to get a bunch of other medical appointments, has to get surgery, among other things, but for now things are much better on that front. that being said, he did lose his job and my old redbubble account got suspended without a warning months ago, plus argentina's economy is... really bad right now. food prices rise every day, public transportation prices went up like a 200% in a couple of weeks, salaries are low and stuck there, subsidies are gone, the local peso keeps falling, we have an absolute psychopath as a president who spends more time insulting or threatening anyone who oppose him than caring about people. it's a disaster. for updates on argentina in english, this person on twitter makes very good informative threads if you're interested.

anyway, i used to make around 30/40 dollars a month in redbubble, and that used to help adding up to the donations i got here, and it got suspended, so now i make like 1/2 dollars on teepublic monthly. so... it's a huge loss. there's a lot of things me and my mom are in charge of paying-- groceries, power and water and gas, medicine (she's diabetic, i have some sort of chronic sinusitis), our dog and cat's food and medicines, wifi, phone bills, public transportation, healthcare, my dad's new therapist... so, you know, i really need anything people can donate. even if it's just a single dollar, literally any amount helps. i love fashion so much and i love this blog, i work really hard on it even when my brain says no, and i really appreciate how much you guys love it too. i love seeing people discover new styles, new designers, new things to be inspired by. so, yeah... i'm never going anywhere, but i do need help to basically stay afloat.

as usual, my kofi link is this one: https://ko-fi.com/fashionrunways and my teepublic link is this one: https://www.teepublic.com/user/dinah-lance. thanks for being around and sharing and reblogging my posts, thanks for asking questions about fashion, and of course thanks for helping to the ones who can, and thanks to the ones who can't too, i know how that feels like, don't worry about it. love you 💖

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Cult of Love

pairing: cult leader!hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: smut

word count: 5.1k

warning/s: brain washing, dumbification, dom/sub dynamics, manipulation, loss of virginity, corruption, hyunjin calls reader 'pretty', 'my lamb' and 'good girl', choking, power play, pain kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation, breeding kink (wow lmk if i missed some)

a/n: this is just some dirty smut i had so much fun writing! hope you enjoy and if you did please reblog!🩷

~check out my: Masterlist♡

Being part of a big community that devotes all their time to serve only one person was not how you imagined you'd be living ever.

But here you are, after everyone in your life abandoned you, after everything stopped making sense, after everything you ever loved started hating you, after you almost fell off the edge.

He was the one who found you and the one who saved your lost, aching soul. A beacon of shining light, a man so beautiful that you weren't even sure he was real.

That was two years ago, when you were at your lowest, and now you are the happiest you've ever been in your entire life.

Your brain is re-wired only to know your leader, your god, Hyunjin. Only to obey his commands, heed by his word, worship him. And you are happy to do so, after all, he saved your life. He knows what's best for you, more than you do. He loves you, you know that anything he does to you and anything he makes you do he does so out of love.

That's what you were taught and what you believe. So, when you're finally invited to his huge tent, you couldn't be more excited.

One of his guards brought you a red rose the day before and you knew, as well as eveyone did, you are the next chosen one.

You can't sleep all night, wondering what's in store for you. What is your leader Hyunjin gonna ask of you, make you do? You really have no idea, but you're ready to do anything he says.

Come the morning, some of the other girls and boys helped you prepare. They've gotten commands to help you wash and shave, which made you feel a little bit nervous. With that you know you'll probably be naked in front of him at one point and you hope he likes what he sees.

You put on a beautiful white dress, one that Hyunjin sent for you through his guards. There's a flower crown on your head, courtesy of the girls and boys helping you get ready.

Your heart pounds in your chest and in your ears when the guards come to pick you up and lead you to your leader's tent. On the way there, people clap for you and congratulate you.

Briefly you wonder, where the other women and men disappeared to after being invited into his tent but you bury that thought in favor of happier thoughts. Like how you can serve your god.

As soon as you walk in with the guards, you don't dare to look up so you don't seem disrespectful.

"Leave us."- his sweet voice rings in your ears. The guards bow shortly and leave, leaving you alone with Hyunjin.

"Kneel, pretty."- he says and you do so, falling to your knees immediately, your eyes trained on the ground. Footsteps shuffle closer towards you and your heart jumps up into your throat.

"Look at me."- he says, his voice a little bit lower than before. You look up and are met with his godlike features that you missed seeing since he doesn't come out of his tent often. You're in awe every time you catch a glimpse of him, now even more when you're so close to him.

He places his finger on your chin, lifting it up a little. Your lips part as you continue looking at him. His finger slides slowly on your jaw down to your neck where he wraps his hand around you but doesn't squeeze.

Your eyes flutter at the action, hands folding behind your back in an act of submission towards your leader.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?"- he asks.

"Yes, yes I will."- you answer immediately.

"You will do what?"- he smirks.

"I will be a good girl for you."- you repeat his words.

"Good."- he says, unwrapping his fingers from you and leaning back. "I wonder why I haven't brought you here earlier. You're really pretty."- he adds, leaning down to look at you more closely.

His eyes are dark and deep and you find yourself drowning in them, feeling weak and submissive just from the way he looks at you.

"T-thank you, Sir."- your voice wavers.

"Hyunjin will suffice. I want to hear my name from those pretty lips."- he smirks again, running his thumb on your lower lip.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- saying his name like that feels blasphemous and you feel like you should be punished just for uttering it so easily. But he ordered you to call him by his name and that's what you're gonna do.

Hyunjin looms over you, his hands on your shoulders, slowly pushing the straps of your dress down. Your chest rises and falls together with your rapid breathing, his touch feels electric on your skin.

He keeps pushing your dress down until your ample breasts pop out for him to admire.

"So pretty."- he whispers, his fingers ghosting over your hardening nipple ever so slightly, teasing you.

Your breath catches in your throat, as he smiles at you.

"You've never been touched, right?"

"No, never."- you say, shaking your head innocently.

"That better be the truth, my lamb. You're mine to corrupt."- he smiles even wider and you shiver.

"It's the truth, Hyunjin."- you whisper his name, it still feels too holy to just roll of your tongue like that.

He smirks and starts undressing right in front of you, while you still kneel on the floor, breasts exposed. You can't believe he's doing that already, you feel like you haven't earned to look at his perfect body yet.

But there he is, in all his glory, his semi hard cock right in front of your face and your mouth waters, arousal pools between your legs.

"Worship my cock, pretty."- he's smirking at you, half-lidded eyes tracking your every breath, every twitch, every shiver.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- you whisper and lean in closer. Your hand comes up to the base of his cock, tongue poking out of your lips to give his head a few experimental licks.

He chuckles at you, his hand coming down to caress your head gently.

"You're like a little kitten."- he says condescendingly but to you anything he says is a compliment.

"Put your mouth around it."- he instructs and you do so, enveloping his head with your lips.

"Show me how good you want to be for me. Suck."- Hyunjin commands and you do just what he says. You start lightly sucking on his head, darting your tongue out to play with his slit experimentally and the most beautiful low grunt comes out of his mouth.

You're encouraged by that so you take more of him in your mouth, and his fingers entangle in your hair, holding you more tightly.

Pretty sounds keep coming out of his mouth as you take more and more of him, his cock growing harder in your wet mouth. You're proud of yourself, so proud that you're making your god feel this good, that your own arousal drips down your inner thigh. You press your legs together and Hyunjin notices.

You're too lost in the pleasure of pleasing him that you don't notice the smirk growing on his face, nor the hand that holds your head holding you even tighter now, but still careful of the pretty flower crown that adorns you. He grabs a fistful of your hair and without warning pushes his cock in deeper into you, his tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag as tears gather in your eyes, saliva dripping down your chin.

"You gag so sweetly."- he smirks holding your head down and fucking your face lightly. Your heart starts beating faster as you fold your hands behind your back again letting Hyunjin use your face for his pleasure. Tears stream down your cheeks and you shut your eyes tight as he picks up speed. There's nothing you can do but try to breathe through your nose and let him have his way with you.

"Look at me!"- he orders, pulling on your hair and you whimper around him, sending vibrations through his cock as you open your eyes and try to look at him, vision blurred by your tears.

"I love seeing you like this. So pretty when you're ruined for me."- he says and you moan around him again.

"But we're just getting started, my lamb."- he pulls his cock out of your mouth abruptly and you cough a little, trying to regain your senses.

"Get up."- Hyunjin orders and you do so.

Hyunjin's hands are back on your dress as he slides it down your body. You've got nothing under it, just how he wanted you to come to him.

Suddenly, you feel self conscious, being naked like this in front of someone you considered your only god. Your hands fold over your body in an attempt to cover up.

"Are you trying to cover yourself up from me?"- Hyunjin asks, and you look at him, shivering under his gaze.

"I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."- you swallow, letting your hands fall on your sides.

"It's okay my little lamb."- Hyunjin coos at you, hand coming up to cradle your cheek. "It's your first time, I know you're just being shy. But you don't have to be afraid, I know what you need. I know what's best for you."- he whispers the last sentence, as he comes closer to you.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- you repeat the same two words like you're under some kind of spell, mesmerized by his eyes, his lips, his touch.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, you know what's best for me."- you say as he leans in even closer, his breath on your lips.

The hand that was on your cheek is now holding the back of your neck, as his other hand slides down over your breast and side to your lower back. Hyunjin pulls you into his body and you feel how hot his skin is against yours. It makes your senses buzz as he presses his plump lips on yours.

He cradles your head with his big hand, tilting it back and holding you in place as he devours your lips with his. You moan against him, parting your mouth and allowing his tongue to slip in.

Your eyes roll back and you shut them tightly as he pushes his tongue as deep as he can and starts exploring your mouth, tasting you and making sure you never forget the taste of him.

You're not sure if you're allowed to touch him so you keep your hands on your sides, fingertips digging into your own hips because you need to hold on to something. Hyunjin's stealing away your breath with his kiss, you feel dizzy, like you're floating. He finally releases you when he's almost out of breath and you gasp as he looks at you wildly, biting on his lower lip.

"Want you on the bed. Now."- he growls and you almost trip over the carpet in an attempt to lay down as fast as you can.

"Easy, pretty. Don't damage my goods."- Hyunjin smirks as he grabs onto your arm and steadies you.

"I'm sorry, Hyunjin."

"Just lay down."- he orders a little more gently, trying to soothe you and also calm himself down. He's not one to yell or hurt his object of affection unless it's punishment and it's absolutely needed. And he doesn't want to scare you, not with how unhinged he gets when he's turned on.

You lay down as he instructed you, his bed is comfortable and the sheets seem to be made of satin or something similar. You've never touched something as soft as that fabric and it soothes your fast-beating heart just a little.

"Show me that sweet pussy, my lamb."- Hyunjin wastes no time as he sits on the bed.

You gasp a little, taken aback by the command but you obey nonetheless, spreading your legs as wide as you can to show Hyunjin what belongs to him.

He bites his lip, hands on your thighs as he leans in closer between your legs.

"Beautiful."- he says, eyeing it and you feel so vunerable and exposed, even a little humiliated but you try to remind yourself it's your leader Hyunjin, you're his and your body is his, and he has the right to look at you however he wants.

"It looks like a pretty rose."- he adds, smirking and you swallow, you heart almost leaping out of your chest as arousal gushes out of you.

"T-thank you, Hyunjin."- you say quietly, lips trembling in anticipation.

Hyunjin leans in even closer, breath fanning over your wetness and your pussy clenches around nothing. He smirks, he's teasing you and he knows he can do that as long as he wants and you don't get to say no or protest it, you just have to take it.

You wouldn't dare go against him, you believe in him too much to do something bad.

So you keep still as his finger makes contact with your clit. He circles it a little, before sliding it down over your folds, teasingly dipping the pad of his finger inside your dripping hole.

You breathe deeply, trying to calm your racing heart and you feel an ache in your pelvis, an ache telling you to move and chase his fingers, beg for more, anything he'll give you. But you know better than that.

Hyunjin gathers some of your wetness with his fingers and brings them to your lips.

"Taste yourself."- he says and you put your tongue out and start licking at his fingers, eyes never leaving his. He looks at you as if he's going to devour you and you wouldn't mind if he did.

He moves his hand away from your lips and leans down. You think he'll kiss your lips so you close your eyes and wait for him but then you feel his tongue on your nipple.

"Ah!"- you moan as your eyes snap open and you look at him. Hyunjin smirks, his tongue playing with your nipple, moving it up and down, left and right. You're already shaking, so sensitive as you've never been touched like this before.

Hyunjin puts his hand on your other breast, giving it a squeeze before pinching your nipple. He grips your breast again as he takes your nipple in his mouth and starts sucking.

The sight and the feeling together is too much so you shut your eyes tightly, head falling back as you start whimpering and arching into him.

A shot of pain runs through you and your eyes open, only for your mind to register that Hyunjin bit on your nipple.

"Don't look away from me."- he grins, tongue darting out to lick at your tender nipple.

"I'm s-sorry."- you whimper, body twitching under him.

He moves to your other breast, giving it equal attention and when you think he's done, he's not. He just keeps playing with your nipples until they're swollen and tender and you can't take anymore. Silent tears run down your cheeks as you whimper. Hyunjin releases your nipple from his lips and comes up closer to your face.

"Why are you crying, my lamb?"- he asks, knuckles brushing gently on your cheek.

"It hurts."- you whisper, another tear threatening to fall down but Hyunjin wipes it off.

"I promise it'll feel good, pretty. You know I love you, hm? You trust me, don't you?"- he coos at you again, caressing your face and you can't help feeling small when he talks to you like that. Feeling like, to thank him you need to submit to him, be good for him, do what he orders, trust everything he says.

"I trust you, Hyunjin. I would never dream of doubting my leader."- you say.

"Good girl."- he grins. "Now, keep watching me."- Hyunjin whispers as he leans down between your legs, his face close to where you need him the most.

He teases you with kisses to your inner thigh, all the way towards your core, still avoiding it and pressing kisses all around it. You shiver, keeping your eyes on his every move as he commanded you. He looks back at you, eyes unwavering as he presses a kiss to your clit.

You bite on your lip and stay still while Hyunjin starts playing with your clit, giving it teasing kisses and little licks at first before he wraps his lips around it and starts sucking and licking faster. Your legs tremble and you accidentally moan too loudly, arm coming up so you can bite on it.

"Don't do that, pretty. Let me hear your pleasure."- Hyunjin immediately grabs your arm and moves it away from your lips.

"I'm sorry, Hyunjin."- your lips tremble, eyes watering a little. You don't want to keep making mistakes like that and look dumb in front of Hyunjin, you want to be good for him and worthy of his love.

"Hey, hey, don't apologize. You're still learning, my little lamb. Just let me guide you, okay?"- he soothes you with his sweet voice, hands gently caressing your thighs.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- you chant again, determined to follow every command, obey every order he gives you.

Hyunjin leans back down between your legs, this time his tongue slides between your folds.

You gasp at the action, hands gripping the pretty satin sheets under you. Hyunjin smirks as he grips your ass, thumbs on either sides of your core, slowly pulling you apart, opening you up for him.

You whimper, pussy clenching around nothing again and he looks up at you, eyes dark and full of lust.

"Such a sweet pussy. Desperate to be stuffed, hm?"- he asks but gives you no time to answer as he dives in, pushing his tongue inside you as deep as he can.

You're moaning and whining, your legs trembling, knuckles turning white where you grip at the sheets. Nothing ever felt as good as this in your life, Hyunjin is pleasing you so well, swallowing all your juices.

You almost feel too ashamed that you have your god do something like that to you, but that makes you feel even more determined to please him too and give him whatever he asks of you.

Hyunjin is relentless, his tongue is never tiring, even when your moans grow higher in pitch and you feel something swirl in your stomach. It travels down as you keep shaking, legs almost closing around Hyunjin's head and he fucks your pussy with his tongue even faster and you can't hold it in anymore.

"P-please!"- you beg, you don't even know what for but Hyunjin doesn't stop or slow down, and you let go as you moan his name repeatedly, your juices painting his tongue, lips and chin.

"You did so well, my lamb."- he says, a little breathless.

"T-thank you. Hyunjin."- you whimper as he dives back in to play with your clit, flicking it with his tongue fast, teeth grazing at it and you mewl, legs falling open again.

It's a lot, almost too much, but you want to take it, you want him to keep playing with you as long as he wants. Your legs are shaking as he keeps making out with your pussy and you explode on his face again. And then again. And again until you've lost count.

Tears keep streaming down your cheek and you don't even register Hyunjin's face in front of yours until he gently wipes your tears away.

"H-Hyunjin."- you cry out.

"Shh. It's okay, my lamb. You're doing so good for me."- he praises you, fingers running up and down your soaking wet pussy, tortured after all the orgasms he ripped from you.

"I want to be- be good for you."- you whimper as he dips his fingertips into you.

"You do?"- he smirks sickly at you and you nod fervently.

"Then you can take two fingers immediately."- he says and slowly starts pushing into you.

You moan, your back arching instinctively as you grab at the sheets again. Hyunjin's fingers are slender but long and you feel the shape of his knuckles as he pushes them in deep, all the way to the ring that adorns his finger, the coldness of it making you shiver.

He starts moving them slowly as your lips fall open into a silent moan and you stare into his eyes, completely mesmerized by him.

"Feels good, pretty?"- Hyunjin asks. The orgasms you had before helped open you up and lubricate you so you weren't in any pain as he keeps stretching you slowly.

"So good, Hyunjin."- you whimper, your eyes fluttering but staying open. You don't want to accidentally shut them or look away from your leader.

He starts moving them faster as he comes closer to you, peppering your face in kisses, catching your tears with his lips. He kisses your eyelids, your nose, the corners of your lips while he keeps plunging his fingers faster and harder into you.

The contrast of his gentle kisses and the way his fingers are abusing your pussy make you feel incredibly hot. Your mind and body buzzes, you don't know anything but Hyunjin in that moment and you feel a pressure build up, a pressure you've never felt before.

"Let go."- Hyunjin orders when he sees you struggling. And you obey, you let go and squirt all over the bed and his hand just as he pulls his fingers out of you.

"Fuck. That's my good girl."- he smirks and pushes his fingers into you abruptly again.

"Ah!"- you almost scream out as he starts fucking you fast again, your pussy screaming with overstimulation. You want to close your legs, beg him to stop but at the same time you never want him to stop.

"You can take one more finger, right my lamb?"- Hyunjin hovers over you. You look up at him with your hooded and wet eyes and nod.

"Words, pretty."- he warns you, his free hand coming up around your throat.

"Yes, I can take it! Please!"- you cry out, spreading your legs even more.

Hyunjin pulls his fingers out and then pushes three of them back in and the stretch has your eyes rolling back. You seek to ground yourself somehow so you grab his bicep, the one that belongs to the hand holding your neck and he squeezes a little.

"H-h-Hyunjin..."- you whimper as Hyunjin fucks you with such force that it has your whole body rocking together with the bed.

"Tell me pretty..."- he smirks. "Do you want my cock inside you?"

Your mind is gone, all you know is Hyunjin and the need to submit to him completely, to give into him even if he kills you.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes please! Yes!"- you keep chanting as your pussy clenches around his fingers, the squelching sound of your wetness so sinful.

"Squirt for me again and I'll think about it."- he smiles crazy at you but to you he looks beautiful and perfect and you have to obey him. So you let go and squirt again, even more than you did before, your heart beating so fast you're scared it'll actually leap out of your chest.

"Fuck!"- Hyunjin looks crazed, hand coming down to slap your pussy. You whine loudly in pain and surprise, feeling so sensitive after everything he did to you. "I need to breed this sweet pussy now. You want that, hm?"

"Yes, I do!"- you whine again as he grabs his cock, sliding his hard tip on your pussy, pressing it into your clit.

"Beg for it!"- he grabs at your neck again, the tip of his cock between your folds, slowly opening you up.

"Please breed me, Hyunjin!"- you beg, and his eyes roll back before he looks at you wildly and starts pushing in.

Your pussy opens up like a flower to take him, you're so tight and warm, so pliant for him like you were made just for this.

His hand squeezes around your neck as he keeps stretching you with his cock, and you feel a sudden rush of fear with your air being cut off like that, the little sting between your legs, the question if you'll even be able to take all of him.

Your nails dig into his arm and he looks at you so darkly, like he's in a trance and you shiver as the tip of his cock pushes up to your cervix.

"Trust me my little lamb. I'd never hurt you."- he squeezes more and you almost start panicking as little spots appear in front of your eyes.

But you trust him and he starts moving slowly and then he finally releases your neck. You gasp for air, your head is spinning as Hyunjin almost pulls out only for him to push back into you forcefully, knocking the breath out of you again.

"H-Hyunjin! I-it hurts!"- you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes again as he pounds into you.

"It'll feel better. Don't worry, pretty."- he whispers and captures your lips in his, shutting you up.

His tongue forces your lips open, exploring your mouth again, his hands have a bruising hold on your hips.

"Unless you want me to stop completely."- he smirks as he suddenly moves away from you.

"N-no, please don't stop!"- you beg, desperate for him. You want him closer to you, as close as it's possible and you ignore the fear bubbling inside you with the way he's looking at you.

"No? You want me to fuck this tight pussy until she can't take anymore, hm?"- he grins, pressing his fingers on your swollen clit and flicking them in time with his thrusts.

"Yes, please Hyunjin! Please!"- you grab at his arm again and he chuckles darkly, speeding up as his hips slap into you so hard that the bed starts rattling. His cock is ripping you apart but all the pain you felt turns into pleasure, and you can't contain your moans nor keep your eyes opened.

Hyunjin enjoys the view of you spread completely open for him, your hair like a halo around your head, the pretty flower crown ruined, leaving some of the flowers stuck in your hair, tears sliding down your cheeks, your pretty lips parted. He enjoys the power he holds over you, how pliant you are for him, how you'd do anything he asks of you. You just might be his favorite, he thinks as he grips your hips harder, his nails digging into your flesh.

Your eyes snap open and meet with his, there's something animalistic in them and fear runs through you again making your pussy clench around him.

"Are you gonna come for me again, pretty?"- he smirks.

"Y-yeah... I'm... I-" - you can't even form a coherent sentence, not with the way he's fucking you, his hands now roaming all over your body, one of them coming up to wrap around your neck again.

"Can you even talk?"- he chuckles as you lean into his hand, ready to let him choke you to death if that's what he wants.

"Ah!"- you moan when he hits that sweet spot inside you.

"Going a little dumb on my cock, aren't you my lamb?"- he growls as he fucks into you harder, his tip hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, driving you insane until you explode all over his cock.

"Mm yes!"- you answer him, your ears ringing and your whole body tense.

"Gonna breed you now."- Hyunjin squeezes your neck, your air cut off again as his hips pound into you. Your lips fall open, eyes wide as you stare at his dark ones, filled with lust and something else lurking behind it.

His hand is bruising on your neck and you panic, feeling like you're slipping away even though the way his cock is ravaging you makes you come on him again and that's the last straw Hyunjin needed before his cock twitches inside you and he paints your walls with his warm come.

He finally releases your neck, you cough and gasp, grabbing at it, your whole body shaking as your wide eyes stare up at Hyunjin.

"You took that so well, my little lamb."- he says as he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty.

"T-thank you."- you voice is hoarse and you almost don't recognize it. Hyunjin reaches to touch your face and you flinch for some reason, which makes him frown.

"Are you afraid of me, pretty?"- he asks, his face serious and seemingly devoid of any emotions. You swallow and lean your face towards his hand.

"No, I'm not."- you say, trying to convince him and yourself even though your heart is beating fast.

"Why did you flinch?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It wont happen again."

"It better not. I told you I would never hurt you. Only if you misbehave, then I have to punish you. But you know that everything I do is for your good, right lamb?"- Hyunjin smirks again, caressing your cheek.

"Yes, I know Hyunjin."- you nod.

"Good. Because I'm going to keep you here. You will serve me every day from now on. You will be my wife and bear my children."- he grins, getting up from the bed.

"Really?!"- you ask as you sit up, excited that you out of all people were chosen to serve Hyunjin, to become his wife and give him children.

"Yes. Are you happy about that?"- he hovers over you, hand holding your chin.

"Very happy. And honored."- you nod fervently.

"My little lamb. You know I love you, right?"- Hyunjin asks and there's something gentle shining in his dark eyes.

"Yes, I... I love you too, Hyunjin."- you answer, your lips trembling.

"I know you do."- he smirks again, caressing your head. "Go to sleep now. I have some things to take care of."

"You're not gonna sleep with me?"- you whimper, eyes already watering at the thought of not being next to your leader and soon-to-be husband.

"I'll join you later, my pretty. Don't be sad."- he coos, laying you down and tucking you in.

"Okay."- you say, your eyes closing. After all, you were beyond exhausted and it didn't take long for you to slip away into dreamland.

Hyunjin stands over you for a few moments, eyes scanning your sleeping face, dried tears on your cheeks, lips swollen from kisses and bruises around your neck.

He grins, you're so obedient and innocent, so eager to please him. Everyone else disobeyed him and questioned him but not you. You are so sweet, so good for him. He's going to have so much fun with you and he can't wait to show you just how dark he can be.

[pintobug]

maintenance

dbf! joel miller x female reader

chapter 3: take what you need

rating: 18+ MDNI

masterlist

summary: big ol’ storm comes rolling through. through the rolling thunder you hear three familiar knocks. :o

word count: 9.8k (!)

tags: no outbreak!joel x fem!reader, age gap (reader~24 joel is ~45), pining, female pronouns, internal conflict, kissing, dbf!joel miller, maintenance man!joel miller, pussy pronouns, dirty talk, dry humping, grinding, dom/sub undertones if u squint, praise kink, joel talks her through it :3

a/n: hello!! getting feedback on these makes me so happy. even with the few comments i’ve already gotten, it makes my heart swell and i’ve honestly teared up at them. i used to write one direction and voltron fics when i was younger & i’m so happy to be finding writing again. every note, every reblog and every single word of feedback you guys offer means so much. tell me if you love it, tell me if you hate it, pick it apart. i wanna hear all of it!! thank you. ♥️

Your Dad keeps talking but your brain is running a marathon. He doesn't know. Neither does Joel, you think. But now that name-

Joel Miller.

That connection, it has a shape.

It has history. Memories. Drunken nights and secrets with your Dad.

Your fingers hurt with how hard you're pushing them into the countertop. You look at your Dad, still rambling. The whooshing of blood between your ears builds and you try to silence it by focusing on his lips. They curved around his next words so innocent and unknowing. It makes you want to spill your guts onto the counter.

“Yeah, kid! Joel Miller. Known him for years- he's good people. Used to work with him every day when I did that big commercial project a few years ago. Did some tile work there, even brought his brother along with him the days we needed some extra hands. Hell, he’s been on a few jobs with me since then. Bring him on specifically if I know it’ll be a big one,”

“Do you still talk to him?” It doesn't even sound like your voice when it leaves your lips. 

It's muted and pathetic. You feel dizzy. Not the dizzy Joel made you feel. In a way that you're sure you're losing the color in your face.

Do you tell him?

Do you tell Joel?

“Every now and then, yeah. He keeps to himself. Quiet. Solid worker though. Don't know what the hell he's doing in maintenance, but that's Joel. Likes laying low. He’ll die standin’ up, he’s hard headed like that. One of those guys who always says less than he knows, but when he says something? You listen.”

You swallow hard.

You’ve been aching to learn more about Joel since he closed the door behind him. The last thing you wanted was your Dad being the one to fill you in.

“I can see that.”

He doesn't notice your stunned silence. He continues to walk around, even sits with you on your couch for a while and tells you about work. You nod and hum, smile when it's needed. You're not paying attention though.

He's your Dads friend. He has no idea who you are.

Did he lie? Does he know who you are?

“Alright, kid. I'll get outta your hair.” He says, clasping a hand on your shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

You both stand. You follow him to the door with a forced smile. 

“Hey, if you see Joel again, tell him I say hey. Maybe I’ll catch him sometime.”

He's so blissfully unaware of the bomb he just dropped.

You nod your head and thank him, giving him a hug. 

You're standing in silence by your door again. This time for a very different reason. Your heart is in your throat, fingers numb. You let him in, you touched him. He touched you. He is your dads friend. Your dad.

He can't know. He would've said something. He wouldn't have touched me if he did. 

Would you have touched him if you knew?

You start pacing in your living room, hand over your mouth. You need to see him. You need to ask if he knows. No- you can't ask. If you ask, it ruins the chance of it happening again. Will it happen again after you tell him? But what if he finds out? 

You need to see Joel. The desire is physical. Your skin aches and your chest is tight.

He has to know now. He has to. And if he didn't before, he will soon.

But then what?

Late that night you sat at your desk, his Facebook profile on your laptop, mouse hovering over the ‘Add Friend’ button for at least an hour. The skin around your nails picked raw. You can't friend him on here, that's insane. He's going to think you're crazy, and then you're gonna drop an insane bomb on him and it will scare him away. You take a deep breath. You need to think this over, you need to be careful.

You feel physically ill. The feeling has been sitting heavy in your chest since your dad left days ago. It's been almost a week since Joel kissed you in your room. It doesn't help that you're alone. You're doing what you can to distract yourself. Applying to jobs, taking walks, reading and bingeing some old horror movies. But no matter what you're doing you catch yourself imagining Joel doing them with you. You imagine he's laid into the couch with you, big hands skating up and down your legs. Or he's walking beside you under the shady trees.

It's wrong to think like that now, he's your dads friend, you have to keep reminding yourself. Joel hasn't contacted you. You don't even think he has a way. 

You’re grateful when Ellie calls you, breaking the internal back and forth you've had going on for the past few days. She facetimes you.

“Heyyyyy.” Ellie's voice rings through the living room for the first time in over a week.

You smile widely when you see her face. Her freckles are prominent. This is probably the longest she's spent in the sun in some time.

“Hey! How is it there?” You say, holding your phone up so she can see your face.

“It's great, honestly. Wait- lemme show you this.” She grunts while getting up, you assume.

The camera is shaky and Ellie is cropped pretty much fully out of the screen. You can see the sky, it's a beautiful shade of blue and there are no clouds in the frame.

The opposite of here, you think. There has been a dark, angry cloud hanging since you woke up this morning. It even smelled like it was going to rain.

“Dina!” You hear Ellie shout.

“Wait a second I’m gonna get Dina to show you.” Ellie peers down to her phone briefly, cueing you into what's going on in Montana.

You laugh and nod your head even though she's not looking.

Suddenly Dina’s face comes into frame. 

“I can't believe you’re alive after the other night.” Dina laughs and you laugh with her.

“Me either, to be honest, it was bad.”

Ellie shifts the phone so you're looking at her now, her brows are furrowed and eyes squinted, the bright sun warming her face.

“Ready to see this? Fuckin’ nuts.” Ellie raises her eyebrows.

“Yesss. I’m ready.” You say. 

Ellie flips the camera and your jaw drops.

There's sheep.

A lot of them.

Standing and grazing, strolling and some were walking around, overlapped bleatings spilling out of your phones speaker.

“What the fuck?” You say, in awe.

You hear Dina and Ellie laugh on the other end.

“I knew her family had a farm but this is fucking nuts, right?!” Ellie shouts, out of view.

Ellie walks around, sheep around her hips, Dina coming into frame every now and then as Ellie shows off the farm life.

“Dina, how did you not tell me this before?” You gawk.

There has to be a hundred of them if not more.

“Don’t know. This is what I grew up with, just slips my mind that people find it so fascinating sometimes.” She says lightly and chuckles.

Ellie flips the camera back to her face and angles the camera high, holding it sideways. She squints one eye and looks into the camera with a wide smile.

“Sick, right? Got me a cowgirl.” Ellie muses and you see Dina’s hand push her shoulder in the corner of the frame.

You laugh.

It is beautiful. 

You are beyond happy for Ellie. She met Dina in the start of sophomore year and they have been inseparable ever since. Dina is a good contrast to Ellie. Keeps her in line and focused on the important shit that Ellie sometimes lets slip through the cracks.

“Aw, fuck. Am I frozen? Can you hear me?”  Ellie mutters while pulling the camera close to her face, her brows drawn together in concentration.

You shake your head.

“I can hear you, sorry.” You smile at her pinched up face.

“Oh okay. What have you been up to? Has the dryer been fine since that guy came to fix it?” Ellie asks, you can hear hay crunching under her feet, the creaking of a porch door and suddenly she's inside. 

That guy.

You let out a soft sigh, stomach twisting at the thought of Joel, your Dads friend. Clearly you don’t hide your emotions well because Ellie doesn’t let you respond.

“Aw, fuck. What happened?” She sighs, propping her phone up as she bops around the kitchen.

“No- nothing. Nothing happened. The dryer is fine. I told you about the light bulb, he came and replaced it last week. Everything has been good.” That's a lie. 

Nothing has been good. Your mind is constantly racing, your chest is heavy and your stomach is queasy. You want to unload everything onto Ellie, but you hesitate. 

Are you in the wrong? 

You made out with your Dads friend and didn’t tell either of them. 

You didn’t know at that point though. It feels wrong because you want to do more than that. 

Would Ellie think it's gross? 

Is it gross that you find him attractive? 

No. 

You don’t want to think like that. Gross is the last word that comes to your mind when you think of Joel. Joel is handsome. You don’t think you’ve seen a man quite as handsome as him. He’d look good in anything. 

Ellie pauses and looks at you through the phone for a moment before shrugging her shoulders.

“Well. Whatever it is, you’re not hiding it well. I’ll be home in no time. Maybe I can sneak one of these sheep on the plane. We can keep it.” Ellie gets close to the camera and smiles widely. 

You and Ellie continue to facetime for sometime. She tells you about handling the farm and finally meeting Dina’s extended family. Her parents have come to visit a few times and would come around. They were kind, gentle people. You know where Dina gets it from. Ellie tells you about the barn cat that lives there, how Dina’s sister begs it to come in the house every night, and it refuses- won’t even pass the threshold of the porch. You’d much rather have the life of a barn cat right now. Coming and going as you please, prancing through tall grass and pestering sheep as the days pass by. Having someone beg you to come be safe and warm in their hold. 

The sky is dark by the time Ellie says her goodbye. The dark lingering cloud from earlier has spread, soaking up every inch of blue that tried to peek through. You walked a loop around the house, making sure all of the windows are shut and locked. Last thing you need is rainwater seeping in.

When it comes, it comes fast. Fat, heavy droplets hit the cement, soaking it through. You stand by the large bay window, curtains drawn back to watch. Puddles forming in the streets and in the patches of grass by the sidewalk. You see lightning in the distance and a low thunder rumbles a few seconds later. Wind blows the trees and its leaves scatter, twisting through the air to smack wetly into whatever surface it's being thrown into. 

You leave the curtain open and settle yourself on the couch, curling up with a blanket. You snatch up the remote and search through movies on streaming apps until you settle on Pet Sematary. You love this movie and its perfect vibes for stormy nights. A comfort movie. That's what you needed after the week of inner rambling.

The lightning gets more frequent, thunder gets louder. This is bliss. Your head is empty for the first time in a week. Quiet, despite the shattering thunder and heavy rain outside. No sweating over job applications and their lack of responses. You’re pushing your internal struggle to the side to enjoy some movies in the comfy atmosphere. 

Enjoying it is an understatement. You are lulled to sleep by the thud of rain against the outside of the house, the occasional flicker of lightning filling the room for a split second and illuminating all that is inside. A particularly loud pang of thunder jolts you out of your sleep state. You gasp and clutch a fist to your heaving chest. It takes a moment for you to regain your bearings. You rub your tired eyes and stretch out of the couch.

An earth shattering boom steals all the breath in your lungs. A mechanical whir sounds before every light in your living room clicks off.

“Fucking-” The bright ball of orange barely visible over the top of the building outside your window catches your attention.

TV is off, overhead lights, the fan in the living room. All of it is off. Transformer blown. Great. You whine softly and pull your phone from your hoodie pocket and click the flashlight on, sighing in relief that you have a decent amount of battery left. You go around and turn all of the lightswitches that were on, off. Something your Dad always told you to do, and it stuck. While you do that you gather all of the candles you see, silently thanking Ellie for keeping so many from her dorm room. You’ve collected nearly ten of them, scattered them around the living room. On the TV stand, the coffee table, windowsill and the rest were scattered on the floor. The room was glowing in flickering orangey, red light. It felt cozy. 

You settle yourself back into the corner of the couch once you're content with the ample lighting from the candles. All of the smells mix together to make something comforting even though you can't put your finger on it. You tuck your bare legs inside your hoodie, balling up and tugging the throw blanket over yourself. You keep the curtains drawn on the bay window and you shuffle to face them, heavy lidded eyes boring out into the monsoon.

The thunder roared closer and closer together, each time it jolted your eyes open in surprise. The vibration of your phone catching you off guard. It was just a photo from Ellie. A picture of her and Dina with the beautiful blue sky you saw earlier on her facetime call. You quickly snap a picture of your current situation, the stark contrast in the skies alone was comical. Before you can press send three consecutive bangs make your heart jump. You’re sitting up straight, eyes wide. That wasn’t thunder. You’ve heard that before but theres no fucking way. You quickly stand, bare feet padding on the hardwood floor. You’re aware of the chill in the air when your bare legs are exposed from their warm spot under your hoodie and the blanket not long ago. You approach the door and crack it. The red emergency light is casting shadows onto the figure in front of you while you swallow the lump in your throat.

Joel?

The past two times he's been here the sun has been illuminating his golden features. You open the door widen, your lips parted in awe, or disbelief, you can't tell which one right now as you take him in.

Joel Miller.

At your door right now, dripping and sputtering rain water off of his beautiful lips when he speaks up.

“M’truck stalled ‘bout a block out. My wipers were losin’ the fight anyways. Couldn’t see a damn thing. Didn’t know where else to go to wait it out.” He projects his voice over the loud rainfall and rumbles in the sky.

“You’re soaked.” Is all you can spit out.

He nods his head, the rain soaking his hair a darker color and plastering thick strands of curls to his face. Common sense smacks you in the face as you stand there dry and he’s continuously getting beat on by rain.

“Come in.” You blurt out and back up, allowing him space to walk into the entryway.

“Y’don’t mind?” He says while ducking in looking sheepish.

“Y-You can come in. It's not like I have electricity to offer but-”

“Dark and dry is better than soaked n’ blind on the road.”

You close the door behind him, the wind chilling you to the bone. You shiver as you lock it up. You take a step back and take him in. Standing in your entryway, his dark t-shirt soaked even darker and clinging to his skin. You’re jealous of it. Fat drops of rain slide down the curves of his curls and drip down the sides of his face. They roll from his temple and down his strong jaw, getting muddled in his beard hairs. Roll from the curls tucked behind his ear, down the thick vein in his neck and pool at his collar before slowly being absorbed into the fabric. You swallow hard to prevent yourself from drooling.

Joel stands there in silence, soaked through. His eyes adjust to the warmth of the candle light, adoring the way it flickers across your soft features. You look comfortable, big hoodie hanging from your frame, bare legs on display again. He takes an extra second to let his eyes linger at the curve of your thighs, where his hand was merely a week ago. He remembers how soft, plush and warm they were. He’s getting carried away, he needs to stop. He pulls his attention away from the exposed skin and settles them onto your face again. Your eyes look tired, a pang of guilt hits deep in his chest, did he wake you? His brows start to saddle together before you yip quietly. He’s been dripping onto the tile, a decent sized puddle forming around him, the cold water spreading and finally making contact with your foot. It pulled you both out of the trance you seemed to be in. He looks down to see just that.

“I’m sorry-”

“I’m gonna get you a towel.” 

You both speak over each other. You don't acknowledge his apology, there's nothing for him to apologize for, it should be you. You can't imagine how cold he must be if you got goosebumps from that one gust of wind. Joel is soaked to the bone.

You make quick work of the stairs, grabbing a handful of towels, making sure there's enough for him, and enough to soak up the puddle on the floor. Just as quick as you went up, you came back down, shoving the fluffy bath towels to his chest. His wet fingers brush yours and the way your body jolts doesn't go unnoticed by Joel. You seem twitchy and guarded. He feels shameful, is it because he almost laid you down on your bed before getting up and practically running out of there? Or was it because he did that and then had zero contact with you since then. The latter. No shit, Joel.

“Thank you.” 

Joel kicks off his boots and peels off his soggy socks, drying himself with the towels you so generously provided. You stand in the living room and watch, practically gawking. He tosses the towel over his head and brings his hands up to scruff up his hair underneath. He pulls the towel off and runs his thick hands through his wet, messy hair.

Fuck, it looks beautiful. Is this what he looks like after a shower? Beautiful curls slicked back from a push of his hand, coiling at the back of his neck. Smaller curls falling around his temples as they broke loose from larger chunks. He holds that towel over his forearm, stepping back as you take the other to sop up the puddle between the two of you. You fold it and leave it next to the door, picking up his boots carefully and setting them on top of the folded towel. You stand up straight and brush your hands on your hoodie. 

Joel is watching you move. He realized within the past week he hadn’t taken enough time to study you the short times he was here. Or maybe the way you looked at him while kneeling on your bed was just so significant he couldn’t remember anything else while he’d touch himself in bed at night. His heart skips a beat at the thought. 

Do you feel the same way? Are you lying in bed at night, hand between your thighs because you can’t get him out of your head? Or is he stuck in a fantasy world? Maybe he should just ask. But he doesn’t want to scare you away.

 He has to give himself a reality check. The last words you spoke to him before he left last week was reassuring him that you wanted that, too. It didn't feel real to him. Too precious, careful and beautiful. The way your face is hidden behind your hair as you bend over, your delicate hand coming to tuck a lock behind your ear. So soft. He did that the last time he was here. The way you carefully pick up his boots and place them down without a noise. He flexes his fingers not realizing that he was making a fist so tight that his blunt nails left indents in the fleshy heel of his palm.

“You’re still all wet.” You speak up finally, frowning at him.

Fuck, theres that face again. That face makes his chest throb. He wants to cup your rosy cheeks in his big hands and plant his lips right on that pout.

Joel shrugs his shoulders. “S’okay. Better than before.”

He is proud of himself for keeping his cool as far as his exterior goes.

“Actually, our dryer works now, thanks to you. I can toss them in there if you’d like.” You offer, neither of you have moved yet.

Both of you standing still, a few feet apart. You feel like he’s holding something back. The tension is thick and you want to climb him like a tree right now but you need to remind yourself what this past week has been like for you. Making yourself so stressed over a simple make out because he knows your Dad. You need to hold yourself together at least until you tell him. He’s standing here- wet and real and quiet- and he doesn’t know you’re your fathers daughter.

He chuckles and nods his head once before realization settles over him.

“I don’t have nothin’ to change into. Don’t think your lil’ shirts would fit me. Also, don’t know if you remember, but the power is out. I’m good at fixin’ but not good enough that the dryer would start workin’ with no power, sweetheart.” He says and his lips twitch like he's holding back a smile.

His shoulders relax as he breathes out. Your stomach tightens at his comment. The lil’ shirt you wore for him last week. The too tight one that showed just a little bit of your tummy? 

Joel is talking about that little black shirt and he doesn’t miss the look on your face when you piece that together. He has a feeling you put that on just for him the other day. It hugged your torso beautifully. But Joel's favorite part of that shirt wasn't the way it settled on your skin, but rather the places it didn't. The neck of it swooped to show off your cleavage- don’t get it twisted but that part that really does his knees in was the bit of your tummy that was showing. That sliver of skin was enough to keep him going this past week. He desperately wanted his hands there again, tracing aimlessly or sprawling his broad palms there.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, holding your hands together in front of you and squeezing the absolutely living shit out of them to keep yourself from reaching out and grabbing him.

“I’ve got something of Jesse’s. I’ll be back.” You were quick with your words and even quicker to run up the steps.

Jesse? 

Who the fuck is Jesse?

He knows your roommate is Ellie, that's who placed the first work order. Wait, he's heard you mutter that name before, right before he carried your dresser upstairs. This Jesse told you he wouldn't be able to come and help you move the dresser until later, Joel didn't stop to ask the question then, he just wanted to help you. Wouldn't you stop him from kissing you if you had a boyfriend?

Woah now- Don’t jump to conclusions, he's nervous and getting himself all twisted over such a small detail. He unknits his brows when you come puttering down the steps again, holding your hand out with clothes. Joel swallows with enough force you can watch his Adam's apple bob. You show him a kind smile, gesturing the clothes towards him when he doesn't take them right away.

“Here, they should fit. If you wanna go to the bathroom and change, I can hang your wet stuff up. Is that okay?”

Joel hates how awkward he's being. But now he can't stop thinking about whose clothes he's taking. His eyes flicker from the clump of clothes to your face. You are bold, but certainly not bold enough to offer up your boyfriend's clothes to him to change into, right?

Joel gives a tight smile.

“Thank you.” His voice is hoarse as he grabs the clothes.

“Bathroom is at the top of the steps, it's the first door right there.” You say and point to it from the bottom of the steps.

Joel nods his head and makes his way up the steps as gracefully as he can in soaking wet jeans. The second the bathroom door closes you blow a fat breath through your lips. You’re so fucking tense right now. You are beyond conflicted and the coil in the pit of your belly grows taught the longer you look at him. Quickly, you give your living room a once over. No trash or anything extremely embarrassing lying around. You make quick work of his clothes, writing them out in the kitchen sink before laying them over the backs of your kitchen chairs, making your way back into the living room. You close your eyes and steady your breathing while you wait for him.

You hear heavy footsteps shortly after. Joel doesn't see you in the entryway anymore, he cranes his head around the archway into the living room and pulls his lips in a tight smile when he sees you. He takes a step forward, bringing his body past the threshold to stand in front of you, his wet clothes in hand. They’re dripping onto the hardwood floor. Soft pattering is a grave difference compared to the beating your windows are taking from the rain. You’re not even giving him the decency to look him in the face right now. The sweatpants look to be a decent fit, maybe a little tight around his thighs but you’re not arguing. What catches you off guard and knocks the wind from your lungs is the shirt. Your eyes are trained on his broad chest. You don't even know if he could take a deep breath in this thing, that's how tight it is. The outline of his soft belly makes your heart throb.

Okay, reel it in.

God, his arms. You think if he moved the right way they’d rip right through the fabric.

This is just as lewd as him in the wet t-shirt.

Joel clears his throat and you snap out of it. You snatch his wet clothes out of his hands, letting him know that you’ll be right back. When you disappear down to the basement Joel turns to look outside. It doesn't look like it has let up at all. He rolls his shoulders before crossing his arms over his chest. This shirt is fucking too small. Is it odd that this offers Joel some confidence? That if Jesse is your boyfriend, Joel is bigger than him. It strokes his ego. His head whips around when he hears your bare feet pad against the hardwood floor.

Holy shit, his arms are huge. You thought they were big before. While they are crossed over his chest in front of you, they look about double the size of your head, you think. 

“How long has the power been out?” Joel breaks the heavy silence.

You nod your head and gesture to all of the candles around.

“Went out a little before you knocked. You didn’t hear the transformer? Grateful Ellie has a bunch of these or else we’d be sittin’ here in the pitch black.” You smile, walking over to the couch.

“You can sit, y’know.” You tell him while taking a seat in the corner of the couch.

Joel hums in appreciation before lowering his body onto the couch next to you. The couch isn't big. It can fit three people comfortably, four is everyones willing to be touching knees. But Joel is so big and broad, you don’t know if you could fit four people on here with him being one of them. You turn slightly to face him, hands nervously picking at a loose string on your sleeve.

“Are the clothes okay?” 

Joel clears his throat and nods, thoughts of this Jesse lingering in the back of his mind. He wants to ask, but doesnt want to seem like he's jumping down your throat. It's a fine line he's walking. 

“Lil’ tight up top.” He chuckles, leaning into the armrest of the couch, knees spreading apart from the other. “They’re fine. Thank you again. For all’a this. Dryin’ my clothes n’ letting me barge in like this.” 

You laugh softly before your features soften to something more genuine.

“Yeah, of course.” 

Pliant silence falls over the both of you. Illuminated by the orange flickering glow that licks over both of your features. It casts heavy shadows, emphasizing each curve. The storm is still rolling strong. Lightning paints the room white every few minutes and the thunder that follows after rattles the windows. The both of you pretend to look at everything else but each other. Stolen glances making your heart skip when he almost catches you.

“S’Jesse your boyfriend?” Joel finally breaks the silence.

His eyes widen at your expression. Your face pinched in confusion. You stuttered on your words a bit before choking out a light laugh and shaking your head. You held your hands up, palms towards him and shook them.

“No! Jesse? God- no. He’s friends with Ellie and I.” You toss your head back and laugh a little more.

Joel closes his eyes and sighs, relief visibly relaxing his frame. Your laugh radiates between his ears and he can’t help the smile spreading his lips, a low chuckle of his own rumbling from his chest. It was infectious. He much prefers this over the pouty face you put on earlier.

“Don’t you think your last visit would’ve gone a little differently if he was?” Your laugh settles and you turn your attention back to him.

You’re taking the opportunity to chop at the tension. If he’s gonna be here until the storm calms down, you don’t want to sit in heavy silence the whole time. 

Joel's chest grows tight. You’re bringing it up. He can’t read the way you’re bringing that up. Is it laced with regret or want? You told him you wanted that, but that was a week ago. There has been zero communication from that point until now. He’d be lying if he said that week wasn’t spent waiting for another maintenance request to come in from you. He wouldn’t care if it was a lie. He wouldn’t care if it was as simple as changing another lightbulb. He wanted to see you. He thought showing up out of the blue was uncalled for and probably scary for you. But that's exactly what he did tonight. It felt different even if he was justifying it for his own selfish reasons. 

Joel shrugs his shoulders, hesitant to meet your eyes, afraid of the distaste he might find in them. When he does meet them, there isn’t any. He narrows his eyes in concentration, maybe the lighting is hiding it. You give him an expectant look, waiting for his response. He doesn’t find any distaste. He sees soft and kind. Welcoming. 

“It should’ve gone differently for ‘nother reason.” He swallows thickly, wiping his sweaty palms over his thighs before settling them in his lap. 

That hits you like a ton of bricks. What could he mean by that? You want to question him but your Dad’s voice is bouncing around in your brain. They’re friends. 

“This is normal, right? Casual stormy hangouts with my building’s maintenance man.” You laugh softly, trying to bring some reality back to the conversation mostly to remind yourself who he is and that you shouldn’t be feeling the way you do.

“Is that what I am?” He raises his eyebrows, shifting his body more towards you, his arm closest to you swinging up to rest on the back of the couch.

You freeze. Your mouth is so dry, it’s uncomfortable. No, you want to tell him. That's not all he is. That's all he knows he is. If I tell him the truth this ends. He’ll be angry or uncomfortable. He’ll walk out. You won’t see him again, not like this at least. 

“You fixed the dryer.”

“I did.” He seems amused.

“And the lightbulb.”

His hand grips the cushion at the back of the couch, sighing softly while adjusting. He pushed his hips forward and slouched deeper into the couch.

“Want me to fix anythin’ else?” 

There it is. That same syrupy draw he had in your bedroom last week. When he called you beautiful. Your body reacts immediately. Your breath catches and your thighs press together. Yes, you want to scream. You want to tell him to make all the racing thoughts go quiet but you can’t. You can’t speak. The silence is comfortable despite you feeling like you could jump out of your skin. You wonder if he feels the same. 

Joel lets his question hang in the air. It’s thick. He likes watching you squirm in front of him. He slowly drags his palm along his thigh, resting it on his knee. His hand at the back of the couch hangs there. He’s inches from you and he’s fighting every urge to reach out and actually touch you. Feel the way your soft skin gives way under his grasp. 

He can tell you hold a lot on your shoulders. You’re jittery and always huffing breaths. An anxious lil’ thing. He wants to make you forget about whatever it is you’re stressing about. He wants to quiet the non stop in your brain. Joel wants to make you feel good. 

“Joel. There's something I need to-“

“Don’t say it.” His voice is low, rough like gravel soaked in honey.

You freeze. Fuck, does he know?

“If you’re about to tell me that kiss was a mistake- don’t.”

‘Because I’ve been telling myself not to think about it. Not to want it again. But I do. I want it like hell.’ Is what he wants to tell you. He’s afraid if he said that, you’d tell him it means nothing. He would have to believe you. And he doesn’t want to.

You open your mouth, lips shaped around the words to tell him about your Dad. Just say it. Say he knows your father. That he’s your dad’s friend. That you shouldn’t have kissed him, or liked it, or thought about it every hour since.

Just say it.

You don’t.

“Joel-“

‘Don’t tell me something that makes me stop. Let me have this. Let me give this to you. One goddamn thing that feels good again.’ Joel hopes his expression is conveying his emotions because they’re too big to tell you so soon.

“I keep thinking about the way you taste.” Joel settles on that. 

Your eyes are wide. With one swift movement Joel is close to you on the couch. You don’t move just yet. If you let him kiss you, you can’t take it back. If you tell him who you are, this ends. But if you lie? If you lie, maybe you get to keep him for just a little longer. 

Joel's thick fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer. You lean into his touch, your shoulder brushing against his chest. 

“You don’t have to say anything, darlin’. Just let me kiss you one more time.” 

“Joel..” You say his name again in a whisper, eyes locked onto his lips.

You don’t stop him when he leans in closer, you lean in and kiss him. Joel's broad hands cup your cheeks. He kisses you hungrily, like he’s a man ten years starved. Just like the first time, you melt into his touch and twist your hands up in the fabric of his too tight shirt. You’re soft and pliable in Joel's hands. You’ve got him tied up in knots and you don’t even know it. 

Joel angels the kiss downwards, shifting on the couch to crane over you. His broad shoulders shadow your frame as he pulls back from the kiss, his warm breath puffing over your face. Your eyes are blown black. Wide like saucers. Cheeks are flushed.

A second later Joel's hands are gone from your cheeks and he’s settled back into the cushion of the couch, his chest rising and falling quicker than before. You’re frozen. You feel like the worst person alive. But you want him so badly you’d lie to your fathers face to keep this. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want this. Didn’t need this. You want to give into him. 

You don’t know if it's because it’s been so long since you’ve been touched like this, or maybe it’s because no one has ever touched you like Joel does. There's been boys here or there making comments, Owen specifically being persistent but you didn’t feel like that with any of them. Joel is looking at you right now like he could eat you alive. It makes you feel good. Makes you feel wanted. You couldn’t name the last time someone has made you feel that way. You can’t wrap your head around anything further than kissing him, it’d feel too surreal. But you want it, badly. 

Joel evens his breathing from the other side of the couch, his eyes still trained on you. Everywhere on you. Your face, your shaky hands, the curve of your thigh disappearing under your hoodie.

“C’mere.” He gruffs.

His voice almost startles you, too lost in your own head. You furrow your eyebrows and scoot a little closer on the couch.

Joel sucks his teeth and shakes his head, leaning into the back of the couch and spreading his thighs apart. His hands rest at his thighs.

“No. C’mere darlin’.” He draws, tapping his fingers on his lap.

Excitement jolts through your spine and curls around your belly. You bring yourself to your knees, shuffling closer before slinging your knee over his lap. Joel's thick fingers wrap around the side of your knee, guiding it over his lap and letting it sink into the cushion. You’re straddling him, hovering over his lap.

His other hand rests on the top of your opposite thigh, his calloused thumb rubbing small, lazy circles into your skin. Joel doesn’t ignore the way your breath hitches when he does that. A coy smirk plays at the corner of his lips while he relaxes into the cushions behind him.

You swallow thickly, eyes darting around his face frantically. The soft creases by the corners of his eyes. The way the grey in his hair seeps into his beard, speckling through the dark hairs. Your body jolts, nerves heightened, the earth cracking thunder rumbling through the house. Joel puts his hands at your hips, pressing his fingers into you through the fabric of your hoodie.

“Easy.. Relax.” He says smoothly, putting pressure on your hips to coax you to settle on his lap. 

You gladly comply, his words twisting your belly. Letting your thighs relax, all of your weight settled in his lap with a quiet groan. The weight of his hands at your hips, the stretch of the inside of your thighs as they entrap the width of his hips. Hands are pressed against his shoulders, fingertips pressing into his muscle. You feel arousal pooling at your center.

“M’gonna make you feel good, yeah?” He nods his head, his low voice is breathless.

Your shoulders crumple, muscles in your tummy contracting, his words affecting you physically. With brows saddled together, you nodded your head. One of your hands ball his shirt in your fist.

“Lemme hear you, baby.” Joel growls. 

“Y-Yeah. Yes. Please.” You huff out, nodding again. 

“Good girl.”

Joel swallows your whimper, not giving you a second before planting his lips on yours. His lips are soft and warm against yours. He wastes no time to drag his tongue along your lower lip. You part your lips willingly, tongue meeting his and moving rhythmically. Joel's hands push your hips, grinding you down into his lap. His cock is hard beneath the sweatpants, throbbing against your clothed core as you respond to the coax of his hands. You slowly dragged your hips back and forth, rolling them against his lap and whining quietly against his lips. 

Joel pressed his teeth into the flesh of your lower lip, tilting his head back before letting it snap back into place and pressing a wet kiss there to soothe it. The whine that drew from you hit him deep in his stomach. 

“God, listen to you.” He muses with a lazy smirk on his lips. “Soundin’ real pretty.”

Fuck, you didn’t know you have a praise kink until now. Your face pinches up when the pang of pleasure is sent through your core, settling low and adding to the slick between your legs. Lightning illuminates the room for a split second before it returns to its orangey, flickering hue. 

Joel's hands slide under the fabric of your hoodie.

“Keep movin’.” He encourages you as your hips sputter when his hands leave.

“O-okay.” You breathe out.

Your fist tightens, tugging at his shirt. Warm, rough hands meet the bare skin of your torso and your breath hitches. A low groan rumbles from Joel's chest. You’re melting against him and he’s barely touched you yet. He wants to see you unravel from his doing. Joel doesn’t mind being greedy in this setting. He wants to take everything you’ll give to him. He gets off on seeing you lose yourself in pleasure, grinding into his lap.

His hands slip farther up your skin, fingers wrapping at the spot under your ribs, thumbs rubbing in small circles on your exposed skin. His grip tightens as he bucks his hips into yours. A broken moan is ripped from your chest, the pressure against your soaked cunt sending stars across your eyes. Thunder cracks and the padding of rain hiding your uneven breaths.

“Make yourself feel good.” He commands, voice softening. 

Your hips stutter, his request making you nervous. Make yourself feel good, using him? Red creeps up your neck and spreads over your cheeks. Lightning lights up the room.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, baby. Go on n’ take what you need.” He rasps, pulling your torso into his.

His lips ghost the shell of your ear, heaving chests just inches apart.

“Let me hear you.” He coaxes for your words again.

The only response you could muster was a whine of his name and, fuck, Joel grips your ribs harder, restraining himself from fucking up into you again. He meant it when he said he wanted you to take what you need. He wanted to watch you pant, whine and chase after your high. He wasn’t worried about his own physical pleasure right now. Watching you repeatedly circle your hips into his was pleasure enough for him. It makes his chest tighten, throat dry up and his cock pulse.

Joel slips one of his hands over your clothed breast, pressing his finger pads into the fleshy bit that spills out of the top of your sports bra.

“Fuck- Joel.” You whimper, your hand that isn’t gripping his t-shirt moves quickly to lace itself in his damp hair. 

“That feel good, pretty girl?”

He’s throwing new pet names your way and if you were standing they’d make your knees buckle. 

“Feels. R-Really. Really good.” You stutter out, jaw falling slack.

“That's it, baby.” He praises, letting his head rest against the back of the couch to take you in.

He kneads his hand into your tit, palm rubbing against your hardened nipple beneath the fabric. You arch your back, pushing your chest further into his hand. Your hips buck into his hard on as pressure builds in your core. The room is filled with wanton moans and the soft squelch of wet fabric sticking to your slick cunt. Joel's eyes never leave you. They linger at your mouth to make sure he doesn’t miss any of the noises that spill out. The constant thud of rain fading from his brain as he focuses everything he has on you.

Babbled words spill from your plump, glossy lips. Joel's fingers curl around the cup of your sports bra and tugs down, letting your boob spill out of the restraining fabric. His palm immediately goes back to work on your bare breast, kneading and pushing his palm into the soft flesh.

“Speak up.” He tells you. 

“Joel-“

“Yes, baby?”

“Please.” You beg quietly. 

Not for anything specific. The coil in the pit of your stomach has been tightening, it's threatening to snap and you need to feel him. He’s cool and collected from what you can tell and the imbalance turns you on even more. How can he be so put together and grounding when he’s unwinding you thread by thread? Making you a glassy eyed, whimpering mess on his lap. 

“Tell me what you need. Wanna hear you.” He gruffs.

“Touch me.” You blurt out breathlessly.

Joel tuts and shakes his head.

“Be more specific.” He commands.

You crane your head into your shoulder and whine in frustration, hips sputtering against his. Your slick has soaked through your panties, sleep shorts and it's begun bleeding into the crotch of Joel's sweatpants. He can feel how warm you are even through all the layers.

“Fuck. You’re soaked, hm?” 

You nod your head in a hurry. His thumb brushes over your nipple and you whine.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all week.” He whispers and leans in, pressing a hot kiss to your temple.

You collapse into him, your full weight on him.

“Can’t tell you how many times I’ve touched myself to the thought of you this past week,” Your name leaves his lips effortlessly.

His words beat into your core. The thought of Joel touching himself in his bed to the thought of you drives you crazy. When you’re able to form coherent thoughts you’ll tell him you’ve done the same. But none of that felt half as good as this does.

“T-Touch-“ Was all you were able to get out again.

Joel's lips press hot, open mouth kisses to your jaw and just below it, nipping there before dragging the flat of his tongue over it. His thick forefinger and thumb rolling your nipple slowly before tugging. 

“Alright, baby. I got you.” You mutter against your damp skin, his breath fanning over the wet spot sent a shiver down your spine. 

While one of his hands stays kneading your breast, the other travels from your ribs and smoothes over the curve of your ass, gripping it tightly. It doesn’t stay there long as it slips down your thigh, raking his dull nails against your sensitive skin and back up, his large hand sprawling against your lower stomach, thumb pushing between your folds. You cry out a moan, your forehead falling onto his broad, warm shoulder. Joel cranes his thumb, pressing into the soaked fabric and making contact with your clit. You sink your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the noises that threaten to fall past it. You hand curls into his hair and tugs, eliciting a moan from him.

Joel's hand palms your breast, pulling your bra down once more to give him more freedom, gripping it roughly before returning to teasing and rolling your hardened nipple

“Joel- I’m c-close, please. I’m gon-“ You whine your heavy breaths fanning out over his neck.

“Give it to me.” He says slowly, your ‘please’ making him feel dizzy.

Your hips buck forward and fall out of rhythm as you grow closer.

“Atta girl. Doin’ so good for me.” 

His praises push you closer to the edge.

“Go ‘head n’ cum for me, pretty girl.” He rasps.

That's all it takes. 

Your eyes screw shut, white streaks flooding the back of your lids. You cum, hard. Stomach is hot, muscles twitch and tighten under your skin. A slew of moans and his name leave your lips, muffled by you pressing your face into his shoulder. He releases your breast, that hand settles on your hip, takes over for you and he grinds you into him to ride out your high. Your breath hitches as his thumb adds more pressure. The feeling of fresh arousal seeping quickly through the already soaked fabric. He continues to work your hips, slowing them down as he feels your thighs twitch and torso quiver. 

“You did so good.” He whispers into your hair, pressing a soft kiss there.

You whine in response and again when he pulls his glistening thumb away. He wipes it at the inside of your thigh before wrapping both of his strong arms around your shaking frame. The whooshing between your ears making everything sound far away, the rain, low rumble of thunder at the storm moves farther, his deep, syrupy voice. 

“I gotcha, baby. Relax.” 

You do. Deep inhale and exhale causes you to fold deeper into him.

“Thank you.” Is all you can muster.

Your body rises and falls with Joel's chest that shakes with a low chuckle. The two of you sit there like that for a moment, chests swelling and falling opposite the other. Fitting together nicely. You shift on his lap, thighs burning from the stretch and you feel him still hard under you. You whine quietly at the feeling, still sensitive from your high. You shift farther back onto his thighs, drawing distance between you, your hands smoothing over his shoulders and onto his chest. Joel lifts his head and furrows his eyebrows, watching you carefully.

Your hands skate lower, down his torso and pressed into the soft of his belly.

“What’re you gettin’ up to?” He questions.

“Wanna make you feel good, too.” You respond in a quiet voice.

Joel smiles warmly but shakes his head.

“Uh-uh. Don’t worry about me, darlin’. Watchin’ you made me feel plenty good.”

Your face pinches in confusion. He doesn’t want you to touch him? Your body fills with an anxious driven pit.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask. Pulling your hands back from his torso and wrapping them around your own to comfort yourself.

Joel quickly shakes his head and reaches out to grab your hands, placing them on your thighs, and his hands over yours.

“Not at all. You did good, told you just that.” He murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss to your kiss. “Y’looked like a hurt puppy earlier, wanted to make whatevers goin’ on in that busy lil’ mind a’ yours quiet for a while.” He presses another kiss there before leaning back into the cushion.

Your eyes soften. He just wanted to make you feel good with nothing in return? Your expression is clear to Joel.

“You’re breakin’ my heart, baby.” He brings a hand up to cup your warmed cheek. “These lil’ college boys always expect somethin’ in return, hm?”

You nod your head into his palm slowly.

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head ‘bout me. Just relax.” His voice is slow and sweet.

You try to. Your tired body does, but your mind is still racing. He said you looked like a hurt puppy earlier. Are you really worrying over your Dad that loudly in your expression? Enough for him to notice in this flickering candle light? His hand runs smoothly over your back, quieting your rambling thoughts. Your body is heavy and it feels like there's weights wrapped around your wrists and ankles. So with a deep breath in and out you close your eyes and relax. You’re allowing yourself to have this and enjoy it, too.

You don’t remember when you fell asleep. You don’t remember walking up the steps and getting under your covers. But when you wake up that's where you are. Tucked under the covers in your bed still in your hoodie and shorts. You rub the sleep from your eyes and sit up, squinting. The sun is rising.

It takes a minute for your brain to wake up and its first thought is; Joel.

You throw the blanket off of your legs and hop out of bed on wobbly legs. You make it down the steps in record time and stand in the entryway, eyes blinking rapidly.

All of the candles are blown out and sitting on your coffee table. You take a few more steps, his clothes are no longer hanging on the back of your dining room chairs. A few more steps. The clock on the oven is blinking: 12:00. Powers back on.

“Joel?” You call out quietly.

You’re upset to not see him here. Even more upset that you fell asleep so easily on top of him, crumpled into his chest. There's an uneasy feeling trickling over your shoulders and settling at the top of your stomach like reality just hit you. Your lips still feel swollen from last night. You didn’t tell him last night.You actually made it so much worse for the both of you. The only difference is that Joel is blissfully unaware of it right now.

All you can smell is him. Rainwater and Joel soaked into your clothing. You need to get it off or else there's no way you’ll be able to do anything productive today. You trudge back up the stairs and into the bathroom, quickly shedding your clothing and turning the water on. Once warm you hop in and draw the curtain closed. It drips down your torso and over the source muscles of your thighs. You sigh quietly at the pull in them, running your hand over your skin.

You finish washing your hair and body. Strawberry scented body wash. No longer smelling like Joel. It makes you frown.

Hours later you sat at your desk, scrolling through your email at your computer monitor. Your eyes have been bored into this screen for what seems like hours. Responding to email threads, practically one step away from begging these companies to spare you a fucking internship. 

You express your frustrations to Ellie when she calls you on the phone after hearing about the big storm in your town last night.

“Did water get in anywhere?” She asks and you hear rustling over the phone line.

“Nope. Lost power but it came back sometime when I was asleep. Everything seems fine.” You tell her, leaving out the details of a certain visitor you had.

“Not too bad then. Hate to rub it in your face but all I’ve seen is clear skies since I got here.” She chuckles.

You roll your eyes playfully.

“It wasn’t too bad, really. Today isn’t as sticky hot now that that's over. That's a Plus.”

She tells you about Dina’s family and the farm. Tells you that she's never had a better scrambled egg in her entire life, Dina’s Mom is a pro apparently. She asks you about the internships and you tell her you’re fighting for your fucking life.

“It’s not even required hours, who cares.” She says, your name falling from her lips in a tut.

“I care. I just need something. Money and to keep my mind occupied.”

“If you need something then why not go back to Riverside?” Ellie suggests.

You groan at the thought. 

Riverside Diner was the job you scored when you first came to school in Austin. Local diner, decent size, gets a good amount of foot traffic and a ton of regular customers. When you say a ton, you mean it. During your first summer after your freshman year, you picked up more hours. Working five, sometimes six days a week when tourists would flood the city, rather than the one or two shifts a week. Everyday the same man would sit at the counter and order a coffee and a slice of pie. There was a woman who’d come in every Sunday afternoon with three younger girls. A boy around your age that you recognized from campus would come and get pancakes multiple times a week. You didn’t really notice all of the regulars when you were working part time during the school year. It felt like its own little town.

“Don’t groan at me.” Ellie sucks her teeth.

“I think I was just hell bent on getting an internship like everyone else this summer. It’s not a bad idea though.”

“It’s not at all. Frank always loved having you there anyway. He’d probably give you a shift the next day if you asked for it.” 

“You’re right. When are you coming back? This house is too quiet with just me.” You neglect the fact that it was anything but quiet last night. 

Despite the rain and the thunder, Joel had you a mess in minutes. You don’t tell her you let your dad’s friend touch you. And that it felt safe. And hot. Perfect.

“‘Bout ten days.”

You hear Dina’s voice on the other side of the line calling Ellie. With a small sigh Ellie says her goodbyes. She lets you know that she will text you later.

With that you’re sitting in silence at your desk again, mulling over the last 24 hours. You replay it like a movie, over and over again. His reassuring, coaxing words of praise. God, you could feel your panties dampen at the thought. 

Joel Miller is gonna get you in trouble.

[grison-in-space]

I'm genuinely sorry, I was really tired and couldn't think of the word that mad pride movements use. I'm new to all of this. I thought you would be more open to it because you've reblogged from radical leftists (anarchists and communists both) within the past couple of weeks and they're all for Veganism afaik. The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different. I'm not spamming people with it, but I was inspired by an ask by a nonvegan and started asking popular bloggers why they weren't vegan to open up conversation and potentially change people's views on animals. If I've made you uncomfortable I'm sorry, though I admit I'm really confused by your standpoint. You do know that the only reason communism hasn't succeeded is because of America? Anyway, sorry again, I'm also autistic and I didn't mean to dismiss your legitimate dietary needs. Can I recommend acti-vegan's posts? While I understand that you can't go vegan, perhaps their blog will at least help you understand our points, they're much more well-written than my asks and they have plenty of legitimate science resources at hand. Thanks for listening, I'll take your advice into account. I'm not trying to not listen, it's just frustrating because so many people say they get it but they don't change, and if they truly got it they would, you know?

Okay, I get that you didn't mean to be offensive, and fuck knows I shouldn't throw stones when it comes to forgetting specific words. (This happens to me fairly frequently; it's a thing.)

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

So yesterday I actually wrote out and then deleted a whole paragraph to the effect of "part of my deep, deep frustration with animal rights activism hooks into my commitment to the phrase 'nothing about us without us,' because I frequently see the same kinds of emotional projection without making the effort to listen to animals on their own terms from animal rights activism groups."

The first thing I need to make clear to you is that this--veganism and animal rights activism (ARA) more generally--is not new to me. I am in my mid-thirties and I have never had a job of any kind that did not revolve around animals in some way, I've spent time in rescue spaces and vets and universities, I'm queer and I have spent most of my life in leftish progressive circles, so it's kind of hard to miss.

Essentially, you are proselytizing to me as if you were a newly baptized evangelical convinced I had never heard of Jesus, because if only I had heard and understood his holy word, I would be converted instantly to his light! It's not any less irritating when the belief system isn't explicitly a religion.

More under the cut, because this one is long.

Disclaimer one: Veganism isn't synonymous with ARA ideology, but it's deeply entangled with it, and ARA ideology drives the movement of veganism as a (theoretically non-religious) ethical decision. And I object very strongly to the framework imposed by ARA activists. When I say I am not vegan, I am saying that I have considered the ethical framework that underpins veganism as an ethics movement and I have deliberately rejected it.

The second piece of context you should know that when I talk about being a behavioral ecologist, I mean that I'm a researcher who works on animals and that my framework is rooted in trying to understand animals in their own natural ecological context, without necessarily comparing them to humans. There's a lot of ways to study animal behavior you might run into, including attempts to understand universal principles of behavior that transcend species (animal cognition) and attempts to understand how to better treat animals in human care (animal welfare). You know Temple Grandin? Temple Grandin is an ethologist (the field that gave rise to behavioral ecology, also focused on animals within their species context) who worked on animal welfare (finding ways to make slaughterhouses less stressful to livestock, among other things).

Third point: my profession also means is that I work directly with animals--in my case, currently mice--and that I do not think research with animal subjects is wrong as long as all efforts are made to ensure maximal welfare and enrichment for the animals involved. This is another major bone of contention politically between my entire field and ARA groups, and you should know that I have also spent my entire professional career under the shadow of, well, people who care strongly enough about those ideas to invade my workspace and potentially seize my animals and "free" them into a world they do not have the tools to survive in.

So there's where I am coming from. Let's get back to what you're saying. Here, I'll quote again in case you have the same crappy short-term memory I do.

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

Point the first: Even within humans, I don't think that all brains should be treated the exact same. Especially in a disability context! After all, what is an accommodation if not an agreement to treat someone differently because they need certain things to access a space? Accommodations by definition fly in the face of this "treating everyone the same" understanding of fairness. I think all (human) brains are equally valuable, and I think all brains are worthy of respect, but I do not think that it's wise or kind of me to assert that everyone should be treated in the same way. For one thing, I teach students. If there's one thing teaching has taught me, it's that a good teacher is constantly assessing and adjusting their instruction to meet students where they're at, identify failures of understanding, and keep the attention of the classroom.

Point the second: animals do have different brains from humans. That does not mean that animals are inferior, but it does mean that they are alien. There's a philosophy paper, Nagel, What Does It Mean to Be a Bat, that you might find illuminating on this front. Essentially, the point of the paper is that animals have their own experiences and sensory umwelts that differ profoundly enough from humans' that we cannot know what it is like to be a different species without experiencing life as one, and therefore we must be terribly careful not to project our own realities onto theirs. That is, our imagination cannot tell us what a bat values and what it experiences. That is why we have to use careful evidence to understand what an animal is thinking, without relying on our ability to identify with and comprehend that animal. I have watched ARA groups deliberately encourage people to shut their reasoning brains off and emotionally identify themselves with animals without considering within-species context for twenty years. This is a mainstream tactic. It is not an isolated event and for that reason alone I would be opposed to them.

Point the third: there is a definite tendency in lots of people to care deeply and intensely about both animals and people who are seen as "lesser" in status--children, poor people, disabled people, etc--just as long as those groups never contradict the good feelings that come from the helper's own assessment of themselves and their actions. In humans, when the "needy" point out that some forms of help are actually harmful, the backlash is often swift and vicious. This is why animals are such an appealing target of support and intervention. They can't speak back and say "in fact, you are projecting my love of this frilly pink tutu onto me, and I think it's uncomfortable and prevents me from walking." They can't say "I kind of like it better when I don't have to worry about getting hit by a car, actually?"

(By the way: this is also why it's offensive to compare disabled people to animals, because this is generally done at least in part to silence the voices of disabled people speaking for our selves and our communities. We have access to language, and we use it, thank you.)

All forms of animal welfare intervention going right back to the founding of the first RSPCA have been incredibly prone to being hijacked by classist, racist, and otherwise bigoted impulses. This is because animals offer an innocent face for defense that conveniently cannot criticize the actions taken by their champions, and they therefore provide a great excuse for actions taken against marginalized members of human society. Think about the very first campaign the RSPCA ever did, which was banning using dogs as draft animals: a use that is not inherently harmful to dogs, which many dogs actively enjoy, but also one that was specifically used by poor Londoners and which in fact immediately resulted in a great butchery of the dogs that Londoners could no longer afford to feed rather than allowing poor people and their dogs to continue working together. No one was, of course, challenging the particular uses of dogs or any other animal favored by the wealthy. This kind of thing is so, so, so common. Obviously it doesn't mean that all interventions to prioritize animal welfare are inherently bigoted, but it does mean that we have to be critical about our choice of challenges.

On top of everything, the animal rights activist movement's obsession with "exploitation" is a function of the idea that humans are sinful or otherwise Bad in how we interact with animals by definition. For example, take the chicken rescue near me that is so obsessed with the possibility that some human somewhere might benefit from an animal in their care that they implant every hen they adopt out with hormonal implants such that the hens no longer lay eggs--a function that is normally a natural byproduct of a chicken's reproductive system, fertilized or not. A mutualistic relationship involves both parties benefiting, and that is the case for an awful lot of human relationships with animals. In general, the idea that associating with animals is a thing that can only harm animals rather than being a trade between two species to enrich one another is all over these groups. It's just so myopically focused on human shame that it prevents practical interventions that might benefit everyone, and often promotes interventions that don't directly benefit animals but sure do make humans miserable. For example, this kind of thinking is why groups like PETA are absolutely awful at effectively rescuing unwanted dogs and cats: they think pets living in "bondage" with humans are an essentially sad outcome, rather than one that might be mutually enjoyed by all parties.

I'm tired and my meds haven't kicked in, so I'm not currently going to handle the communism thing except to point out that while the US absolutely did destabilize a number of leftist regimes in South America and Africa, Russia and China between them have certainly not treated their own people kindly, either (and more so their own client-nations, as with the former members of the USSR). Please do some reading about the Holodomor and Lysenko in Russia (and frankly all of the details of Stalin's regime) and the Cultural Revolution in China in particular. Khmer Rouge might be worth looking into, too. I am not saying the US's hands are clean, you understand, because they are not; they're as steeped in red as anyone else's. What I am saying is that for people living on the ground, communist revolutions have this nasty habit of turning into bloodbaths and arbitrary slaughters. Do not let your distaste for the US's bloodsoaked imperialism (which, yes, is and was bad) let you fall into the trap of becoming a tankie.

And if you don't know what a tankie is, you really, really should take some time to learn.

[these-posts-arent-real]

Oh StarClan... your dash has turned into warrior cats again.

#sorry <3 #this one has parts that are based off of that #one post rhats like "if there were cat-people #do you think calico tboys would try to dye over their patches"

2 notes

🔁 🍲 ex-thundrclan-kipper Follow reblogged

🍲 ex-thundrclan-kipper Follow

Me & Night (my mate)!!!

🏞 trouttail-prefers-bass Follow

:O Kip's mate has finally been revealed!!! And his name is Night? Cooool.

🍲 ex-thundrclan-kipper Follow

Yeah haha. Technically his full name is Night Hunter, Bringer of Darkness, but it feels so weirdly formal calling him that, so I usually stick to just Night.

#life #kittypet #collar tw #cw collars #id in alt text

8,504 notes

🛤 carnation-stem-02 Follow

I find it really funny when I see cats on here vaguepost about big blogs. Like cmon mouse-brain everyone here knows who you're talking about. Just say their name.

#this is about that one mommy blogger shitting on kipper the kittypet #btw #in case some of you couldnt tell #would be funny if it wasnt so stupid

12 notes

🔁 🐍xviper-the-fagx reblogged

🥬 rxttencatmint Follow

Hahaaaaa.... my mother found out ive been slowly dyeing my ginger patches black...

🪺 robbbinpaw Follow

Why would you do that??? Being a tortie is so cool, I wish I had ginger patches! They're so pretty, why do you want to get rid of them???

🥬 rxttencatmint Follow

Uhm. Gender dysphoria??

Like. I know cis male tortoiseshells exist but they're so rare that most cats take one look at me and go "oh, tortie, must be a girl" and that hurts.

🪺 robbbinpaw Follow

OH STARCLAN im so sorry Rot i wasnt even thinking about you being trans, I probably sounded really insensitive... I do understand what you're saying now.

Didn't even ask, how did your mom take it? Does she know why?

🥬 rxttencatmint Follow

You're fine <3 I get it. And no, she uh.. has no clue why I did it, she thinks I'm in my "emo phase" or something.

🐍 xviper-the-fagx

Uhh unrelated but what do you use to dye your fur?? Asking for... science...

#"science" meaning i am also a tortie tboy #well technically i'm calico but ykwim

46 notes

🔁 🦋 lalala-bluegaze Follow reblogged

🦢 gentlesong-momof17 Follow

I can't be the only one here who thinks it's unfair to allow kittypets on this site. Posting pictures of themselves and their mates inside of the twolegplace, influencing the young kits on this site to abandon their Clans... surely everyone else sees the problem with this as well.

This is Clanblr, not "Kittypetblr". This was specifically made as a space for Clan cats to connect, not for kittypets to push their lifestyle on us.

They're going to convince our kits to abandon their home and their belief in StarClan just for a more secure life.

#EXACTLY #I only recently found out ex-tc Kipper was a kittypet #it was so upsetting to me because i've always loved his wood-scratch art #to find out he's a clan-abandoner was so saddening

2,447 notes

🔁 🐍xviper-the-fagx reblogged

🌻 l1llyst3m Follow

The recent drama surrounding Kipper the Kittypet is sad and I hate that he's being bashed just for existing, but it's also incredibly stupid. I believe the cat who wrote the original post said something like, "it's CLANblr, not KITTYPETblr," and then something about belief in StarClan and I just... do you even realize how many Clanblr mods are non-Clan and/or don't believe in StarClan?

To name a few, @s-t-a-r-burning is former WindClan now rogue & openly an atheist, @theshadowhaseyes has been a kittypet his whole life, and @ssuunnrraayy-p has made zir entire blog about how ze travels from one Clan to another & doesnt consider zimself a Clan cat. Those are all mods. "It's clanblr no-" shut up. Just shut up.

245 notes

🧷 name-lists-by-theme

Theme: Water

as always, these work as either part of your name, but they are intended as the first part!

-Abyss

-Bay

-Bog

-Cove

-Creek

-Current

-Dew

-Fog

-Lagoon

-Lake

-Marsh

-Mist

-Pond

-Pool

-Puddle

-Rain

-Shallow

-Sleet

-Spray

-Splash

-Storm

-Stream

-Torrent

Keep reading

383 notes

🐱 berrrrry-o Follow

I think a lot of cats put way too much emphasis on the parts of the warrior code that dont matter, and forget the parts that do, like "feed elders and kits first" and "never neglect a kit in pain or danger"... I feel like those are significantly more important than "a warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet," but maybe that's just me.

#berry yaps #I'm irritated by the kittypet drama going on on this site

16 notes

🔁 🛤 carnation-stem-02 Follow reblogged

🔲 sag3-chas3s-squirr3ls-deactivated

I feel like we don't talk enough about how SkyClan got chased out of their own territory during a time of crisis rather than all of the Clans trying to make room for everyone...

I mean, seriously. I know it's taught to all SkyClan apprentices, but I've talked to some of my friends from other Clans and they just. Didn't know that. They were never taught that the other Clans allowed SkyClan to be chased out due to territory loss.

🔲 sstep-xoxo-deactivated

:/ im pretty sure the whole thing about skclan being kicked out of their territory is just a conspiracy theory

🔲 sag3-chas3s-squirr3ls-deactivated

Imagine trying to tell a cat that they don't know their own Clan's history 💀

#ohh i finally found it again #that 1 fucker trying to say that skyclan's history is a "conspiracy theory"

20,056 notes

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

:/ I do not like being stuck on the wrong site.

[the-tarot-witch22]

Your Hidden Talents - Pick a pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2/Pile 3

My Paid Readings | My insta | My year goal post | Give away

Liked my blog or readings? Tip me!

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Pile 1:

(The cards i got for you - justice and king of pentacles)

Okay so the very first thing i heard for you guys is one of your hidden talent is you get your point across either politely or rudely, you have tendencies or signs to be a lawyer or judge you value honesty and equality a lot, some of you could either had lots luxurious dreams, I see you guys can be bit materialistic, you guys can't just sit around let wrong happen around you, you always stand up for people around you, I also feel you can be quite communicative too, I feel you have natural talent to be a lawyer, judge, politician, journalist even, who just get truth across right about truth. I also feel money is also very important to you guys HEHE. I also feel you could be a bit private , you might not open up, I also feel you guys have a knack to earn money, in your lifetime i don't see you struggling for anything, with your wits and need of equality you guys would be doing great in upcoming years and life.

Pile 2:

(The cards i got for you - knight of wands, the world and 9 of pentacles)

Okay so the very first thing I hear and feel is you guys can be a bit manipulative lol, turning things in your favour, and even if you are wrong you might make another person, feel bad. I also feel one of your hidden talent is you are pretty good looking and you can use it to your advantage, i heard "heartbreaker", so some of you could have that aura about you, I also feel your good looks and your confidence, will take you to places, to be where you deserve to be. I also feel some of you could be good at lying or be a protector kind of saviour complexion lmao, which might get you in trouble, I also feel you guys like to have upper hands, and with that i mean you could have leadership qualities, or you tend to like order around, you guys do have business mind, if you use it correctly, I also feel there are something cheeky about you lol. I also feel one of your talent is you could be good with animals, you can also work with them, there is something about you that makes pet love you, I also feel some of you here could like to planning ahead of time, I also feel some of you , and your talent is being free spirited! Some of you could naturally have a talent to have convos with people with different culture too! I also feel your beauty and brains could give you so many opportunities so use it wisely!

Pile 3:

(The cards i got for you - the moon and 3 of wands)

Okay so the very first thing i feel for you guys you could be very intuitive and psychic, so use that gift well, you are totally blessed I also feel your life will have multiple transformations, so learn from them too! I also feel high power or you connected to higher power is one of your hidden talent, you can know things, you might be a born traveler or want to experience world. I also feel, You are very creative and artistic so you can use that gift for yourself to earn money, I also feel you guiding other people towards right path, or teach them. Likely to be a teacher, therapist, counsellor, not only to help themselves but others too!

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[elllisaaa]

heyheyhey~ just saw that you want your inbox to come alive again, so here i am! i just had this nasty thought of heeseung, shy, gentle, timid heeseung being nervous around you. he's never beat his meat before and is kinda embarrassed about being inexperienced in this field. so you decided to help him, throwing him into the world of pure pleasure. heeseung gets so overwhelmed but obsessed with it..

BLESSED - L. HEESEUNG

-> pairing : inexperienced!heeseung x fem!reader

-> words count : 1.4k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : sub!heeseung & dom!reader, teasing, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, creampie, riding, dry humping, use of 'good boy', mention of oral (f. receiving), begging

+ the way i'm depicting heeseung does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

-> author's note : yes omggg i love loser/inexperienced!enha it's literally my favourite concept ever i'm so glad i'm the only one to be thinking about it ! might have an idea for a full fic because of this too 😏 sorry i went a little overboard but the thought drove me crazy. hope you'll like it !

-> masterlist | enha masterlist

INEXPERIENCED!HEESEUNG who so badly wants to have his first time but who cannot, for the life of him, talk to a girl without losing his composure. he's so fucking awkward that at this point, he's convinced that he's going to end his last year of college without having done more than makeout with a stranger at a frat party.

INEXPERIENCED!HEESEUNG who is kinda obsessed with you. you're one of sunghoon's friend, but you're also the prettiest girl he's ever seen. his thoughts are innocent at first - he wants to take you out on a date, hold your hands and be your boyfriend. but the more he sees you, the more perverted he gets. heeseung constantly thinks about fucking you, about seeing you naked and sucking on your tits. it's disgusting and he knows it, but he can't help it.

INEXPERIENCED!HEESEUNG who, despite his obvious attraction to you, cannot talk to you or hold your gaze for more than a few seconds. everytime he crosses your eyes, his cheeks heat up and he's so nervous he stumbles over his words every so often. he's pathetic, and he knows it, and there's no hope that you'll ever look his way and want him as much as he wants you.

but despite what heeseung thinks, you find him cute - it's cute how anxious he is around you, and how he can't help but stare at you during your shared classes or when you see him from afar at one of the parties his friends drag him too. you think he's cute, and you're only waiting for him to make a move on you, because all you want is to jump his bones.

"i've never fucked anyone." all the people in the circle scoff at the question one of the girls asked, a little too innocent to your taste as everyone in the circle drinks except for one person. everyone is already drunk, and no one except you notices that heeseung didn't take a sip of the cup in front of him, his cheeks getting even more red as he notes that you saw that.

"so you're a virgin ?" the question is thrown at him so suddenly, heeseung jumps and turns around to discover your silhouette hugged by a tight, black dress, leaning against the door of the kitchen. you're alone with him, and you're asking him that ? his brain immediately stops working despite his embarrassment. "i… uh… yeah. if you're here to make fun of me-" - "not at all, heeseung, i'm not that cruel." you interrupt him as you slowly get closer to him. heeseung wants to ask you what you want from him, but he feels a little dizzy from the alcohol he drank and from your presence alone, in the same room as him, your body so close to his you're almost touching. but your next words are what really send him into a coma : "i want to help you."

his eyes open wide, mouth hanging open for so long you lightly chuckle, and the sound makes heeseung's heart beat faster. but what truly amaze him is your hand coming up to caress his cheek. and he can't believe this is real and not a dream. "don't look at me like that, it seems like i told you something awful." - "n-no ! it's just… i…" but heeseung can't find any words to describe the way he's already half hard in his pants at the mere suggestion of you and him in the same bed. "don't you want me to teach you how to make me cum ? don't you want to fuck me ? i'm not blind, baby, i see the way you're checking me out all the time." heeseung is torn between being ashamed that you were aware of his perverted behaviour all this time, or being even more turned on by your proposal. "so, do you want me to teach you everything or not ?" - "fuck, yes, i do."

you lead heeseung upstairs to one of the rooms of the frat that he doesn't recognize but at this point he doesn't care because you're already pushing him down to sit on the bed, straddling his thighs. heeseung looks at you like you're a goddess, and you smile down at him when he hesitates on where to put his hands. you grab his wrists and guide his hands to land on your ass. as if you awakened something in him, heeseung squeezes the soft flesh over your clothes, making you gasp. "good boy. you're a quick learner." - "tell me and i'll do anything."

heeseung is anxious, but the adrenaline of having his crush, the girl of his dream, the most gorgeous woman on the world sitting on his lap and devouring his mouth is taking over him. he can't help but feel pathetic at the way he's moaning in your mouth as you're grinding against his already rock hard dick. "sure that's your first time, hee ?" - "yeah, why ?" - "you're good kisser, think you could really eat me out well with a little bit of practice." heeseung invonluntarily buck his hips up against you, whining against your lips at the mere mention of your wet cunt in his mouth. but for now, you only want to give him the time of his life.

"take off your clothes, baby. you're gonna let me fuck you, right ?" heeseung never answered "yes" so quickly in his life, making you giggle as you watch him fight with his sweater to get out of it. he is so excited that the embarrassment is slowly dying. when he lays back down on the bed, you have gotten rid of your dress, only left with your black underwear and heeseung is already drooling over your body. if someone had told him that he would see you half naked this morning, he would've told them that they were crazy.

"you're perfect, fuck…" - "thank you. you look good too, hee. never thought you could hide such a body underneath all these clothes, uh ?" his cheeks turn bright red again as you praise him - at least, all these hours spent at the gym are worth it now - and start to run your fingers along his skin. you smirk at seeing the shivers come alive on his body and his cock twitch at the soft contact.

as you're getting out of your underwear, heeseung still has the mind to ask you about protection. "wait, wait ! i-i don't have any condoms on me." he looks away, and you laugh at how red he is. you cup his face to direct his gaze back at yours. "if you're okay with that, you can fuck me raw, hee." heeseung has to close his eyes and bite his lips not to moan at the mention of feeling your pussy without any barrier. "please, please, let me have you like that." - "no need to beg baby, you're gonna have me."

you get on top of him, sliding your pussy against his cock to get him all wet with your slick. it is something straight out of his wildest fantasies - to have you lining up his dick to your hole and sinking down on him. "f-fuck ! you're so tight… feels so good…" the smirk stretching out your lips at seeing him gone already is even more sexy to him. you are going to have so much fun with him, that's for sure.

"i'm gonna move, yeah ?" heeseung nodded, his hands resting on your waist but not guiding you in any way. you slowly start to rock your hips back and forth, and the boy underneath you immediately moans, overwhelmed by the feeling of your warm hole swallowing his dick. he never imagined that he could have the girl of his dreams, bouncing on his dick. but here he is, and it feels so good he wonders why he waited so long to lose his virginity.

"please, please, please…" heeseung is begging, but he doesn't even know what he's begging for anymore. he's lost in the feeling of your wet cunt, of your tits bouncing in front of his face and of your little whimpers. "you're so big, hee. filling me up so well." your nasty words are all he needs to cum deep inside of you, painting your walls white with a broken cry of your name.

"you're good ?" - "fuck, yeah." heeseung answers with a content sigh. he already knows that he will never get enough of you, but now he needs to return the favor, needs to show you that he's willing to fulfill your desires too. "can i eat you out ? please, teach me." you look down at him with a smirk. his eagerness is definitely turning you on and you are sure that with some practice, he will become very good at pleasing you and only you.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

enha taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@bbgnyx @hann1bee @snouvllvg @puppy-minnie @binniesbabygirl @foxinnie8

[bluiela]

e/riels attacked my correctly tagged post

So, I made this post Where I talked about how e/riel doesn't have any forbidden set up and feysand was forbidden than them.

Now this e/riel shipper @lovemyromance saw it and immediately thought omg she is talking about me who else talks about forbidden romance other than me. "You make posts on all my arguments" Then provide the screenshots. The amount of delusion you must have to be believe that people solely make posts on you is insane.

Please drop the screenshots or don't attack anyone.

Also, the irony of this person saying I make posts on her when she is the one who makes posts on me, and I actually have proof:

You literally described yourself, please don't make self-projections on other just because you don it doesn't mean other do as well.

Wrote all this and saying how I once commented on her post so now I'm her fan who makes posts on her Like... I'm not even going to comment on this.

like please. This person was on a clearly tagged antielriel post once about how elain is not real and wrote an entire essay on how they talked about Gwyn not being a MC on Gwyn tags so this can't be on the elain tag

Does that mean now all anti arguments you make are from our posts and we get to reblog and attack them?

This argument actually was from this

This post was just discussing how e/riel isn't forbidden and feysand was more forbidden but wow the number of e/riels that got triggered is just concerning.

Many other e/riels reblogged this post trying to prove to us that the non-existent forbidden set up is there and I'm not going to waste my time reading...all that.. brain rot.

also the irony of this:

@elainsgirl like you are on a correctly tagged post where you are taking someone else's safe space to have fun. You are literally describing yourself.

Conclusion: Idc what you do on your tags. Don't come on our correctly tagged posts attacking us without proof. and filter our tags if our posts trigger you this much.

[nyarumie]

yahoo~ can i get a uh big m narumi shamelessly pining over the second division's vice captain? 🤤 like i think it would be funny to read narumi repeatedly asking reader to just transfer to the first during meetings so he'll be able to admire her better and at the same time he's like dissing jura everytime he does it would be funny i think

Summary: With the nation's safety at risk, joint trainings are expected across Divisions. Narumi Gen, as the Captain of the First Divison, aims to make his very own division grow in strength—only by pestering you, the Second Division's Vice Captain, to transfer to their Division, of course.

Author's Reply: We have very little info about Jura's personality (except her being kinda temperal, I think?) so it was a bit of a struggle writing her interactions with Narumi 😭

Author's Note: I'll be taking a short break from writing oneshots so I can continue writing my Brains to Brawn Narumi series—but requests are open! I'll get back to them after writing Chapter 3.

Requests and messages are welcome on my ask box! Please view my navigation too ♡ Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated.

For the third round of joint exercises, the Second Division is expected to host Officers from both the First and Third Division. As Jura Igarashi's second-in-command, you are tasked to oversee the training held in your base, taking into consideration the fighting styles honed by each participating division. That said, the meeting for the third round of joint exercises was supposed to start roughly 30 minutes ago, if it weren't for the commotion just outside the conference room.

"Let me in! I SAID LET ME IN! Do you not know who I am?!"

Everyone who can hear the commotion sighed, knowing all too well whose voice and antics it belonged to.

"S-sir, protocol says that only verified attendees have permission to enter—"

"Are you saying I'm not allowed inside?!? I'm the Captain of THE strongest Division, y'know! Hasegawa, my Vice Captain, is inside! It doesn't make sense that his Captain is off-limits here!!"

You looked at Hasegawa, who was seating across from you; raising your eyebrow as if to silently say, 'What are you gonna do with him?'

He only shook his head in defeat, knowing that Captain Narumi won't stop 'til he gets what he wants. Sighing, you stood up, deciding to deal with this yourself.

Narumi was still making a fuss by the time you opened the door, the two officers guarding it moving to the side to give you a proper salute. He was already on his knees, still muttering his pleas, unaware that you had stepped out to deal with him.

Sighing again, you knelt to meet his level. Waving your hand in front of him, you said, "...Captain, are you still there? If you have something you oh-so-desperately want to share in the conference, you're more than welcome to join us." albeit, against everyone's wishes.

His head snapped to meet your eyes so fast you thought it would detach from his neck. Looking at you with wide, bloodshot eyes, his mood significantly improved. Ah, is he seeing his savior, an angel sent from above?

"Under one condition, though," you continued, "Please don't make any ruckus inside. No gaming either. Speak only when you're permitted to by Captain Igarashi. Would that suffice?"

He nodded eagerly, no words forming in his mouth; he already thinks he's ascending to heaven just by seeing you. Or so he thought.

Aside from being denied the privilege to sit across you by Hasegawa, he can't stand hearing these people talk nonsense! He was expecting you to take charge of the meeting, why haven't you spoken a word?! His ears are at high alert every second that passes in case you speak—waiting and waiting to hear your voice once more. And why is Hoshina representing their division again?! He's starting to get agitated, leg bouncing impatiently and a finger continuously tapping the table, gradually getting louder.

Beside you is Captain Igarashi, who was slowly getting triggered by the noise. This didn't went unnoticed by you, of course, and she was already getting up to give Narumi an earful before you can even stop her.

"Oi, you're being a distraction! Stop doing that, you're not a kid!"

Naturally, the First Division Captain is triggered by this. "Are you calling me a kid, meathead?! You lashed out on me first, who's a kid now, huh?!? Sit your ass back down, you should be grateful to be graced by my presence!"

"And your presence is unwelcomed in our base! I'll report you for trespassing!"

"Oh yeah, oh yeah? I'll have your entire Division begging on my knees after hearing our very own proposal! Did'ya think I came here unprepared?!"

"My division, begging? Not in a million years! The second division yields to no one!"

You pulled your Captain by her sleeve to sit her back down and cleared your throat. "Ahem. I apologize for the commotion—please continue from where we left off."

Hoshina playfully grinned, "No need for that! I was able to cover everythin' Captain Ashiro asked me to relay to ya. You have more pressing matters to attend to, yes? Such as that twerp who's been starin' intently into yer head for the past hour, fellow Vice Cap."

Ah, yes—Captain Narumi did nothing but stare at you for the whole duration of the meeting. You were acting indifferent, but you just wanted to see how long he'll keep his word and act accordingly. "Very well, then. Captain Narumi, you mentioned a proposal from your division. Shall we hear it out?"

Oh. You were finally addressing him. He's beyond ecstatic; his anger is gone in an instant.

He uncharacteristically sat up properly, a mix of seriousness and smugness exuding from him. Taking this opportunity, he made eye contact with you, not once diverting his eyes elsewhere. (Hasegawa, however, seems uneasy. Was he not informed of any proposals?)

"That's right. It goes without saying, but the First Division is an elite division—the strongest of our forces. The stronger our forces get, the stronger I myself become. As Japan's Strongest Anti-Kaiju Combatant, I'm in need of an even greater source of strength..."

It all happened too fast — In a blink of an eye, Captain Narumi was now kneeling before you. Taking both of your hands in his, he declared, "YOU HAVE TO MOVE TO MY DIVISION! I promise I'll give you perks better than this meathead Captain of yours gives you, I'll grow incredibly stronger with you around and you don't have to worry about working overtime because we can just play BS5 together—"

SMACK!

You hear Hoshina laughing so hard he can't breathe as you looked over to see Hasegawa hitting Narumi's head with a rather thick stack of papers, lifting him as if he's a cat. "That's enough. I aplogize for his brash behavior, Vice Captain."

"NO! Hasegawa, put me down! I'm not done saying my proposal! Listen to me, I'm your Captain!!"

Jura, who was watching this transpire with controlled anger, got fueled up again. "Two-toned head! The next time you dare step in our turf, You'll be seeing your very own wanted posters!!"

This isn't supposed to be anything new to you, definitely not — it's not the first time Captain Narumi asked you to transfer to the First. But you were taken aback with how fast everything happened, you were basically unable to speak.

"Uh... I appreciate the offer?"

Hasegawa dropped Narumi back in his seat, appearing like a small dejected kitty. His vice captain offered an apology once more, asking to proceed with the meeting.

It didn't go unnoticed to you how unusually down Narumi is afterwards, though. Was he really upset this time?

After wrapping up the meeting, you stayed behind to organize the reports given by each division. A stack of paper slipped from your grasp, and before you can even pick them up, a figure gathered them surprisingly fast.

"Captain... Narumi? Shouldn't you go back to your base?"

He spoke softly, "Did you keep it? The Yamazon boxes I sent your way. It's full of stuff you might like."

Ah. The last time he asked you to transfer, he barged in with a handful of Yamazon boxes, full of things that you fancy. Recalling the contents, it was packed with new editions of books you loved reading, cute blind boxes figurines, an entire collection of hundred pieces jigsaw puzzle, raccoon plushies, and a lot more. He follows you on social media, and you always repost whatever catches your interests.

"Of course I did! I bought myself a brand new bookshelf to keep the books and store the puzzles' boxes, and decorated them using the figurines from the blind boxes and raccoon plushies!" You smiled, sharing what you did with each of them. Pulling out your phone, you showed him a photo of your cute little arrangement. "Here, I was satisfied with the outcome, it's my favorite part of my office."

He was staring intently at the photo, taking time to admire your arrangement. The little raccoon keychain dangling from your phone didn't escape his attention either. "I never got to formally give you my gratitude, but please know I'm beyond thankful for these."

Narumi has been looking at your phone for a solid few minutes now, concern taking over your features.

"Captain?"

He gently held the wrist holding your phone and looked at you, "I really, really like you a lot, y'know."

You feel your heart skip a beat, face suddenly warming. He's really full of surprises, the softness and sincerity in his tone evident.

"I mean it when I said I need you in the First Division. Think it over, please?"

Were you imagining things, or has he really been this close to you since a moment ago? Despite how a bit flustered you've been, you refused to get swayed by anything, as you already have a duty you swore to uphold.

"Captain Narumi, please listen—it's not that I'm against your division, it's just that I already have a duty I've yet to fulfill here. Now isn't the right time for me to leave this place." you said with determination.

He pouted, understanding that being with you isn't gonna be as easy he as he wants. He was about to speak when you held up your phone in his face again.

"However, I can compromise. If you want to see me that badly, save your number here and give me a call whenever, wherever." you said, turning your face away from him.

Hearing this instantly lit him up, wasting no time grabbing your phone and entering his number. He dramatically cleared his throat, newfound determination firing him up. "Fine, I'll accept. But just so you know! I'm not giving up on your transfer." he said, smugly crossing his arms.

Giving him one last smile before you part ways, you point at his phone and said, "I'll be looking forward to working with you in the future, Captain Narumi."

Curiously, he opened his contacts to see your number saved, followed with a "Future Right-hand Woman" next to your name.

Oh, he's definitely gonna mess with Jura harder than before.

[freakcliff]

x men tumblr dashboard simulator

bluebabadee

THIS BLOG IS A SAFE SPACE FOR NON-HUMAN PASSING MUTANTS. HUMAN PASSING MUTANTS DNI

10 notes 📌Pinned Post

sparklejays Follow

based on your likes!

every time I see a human talking about "how cool it would be to have superpowers" or some shit like that I loose it a little bit more. do these people realize that being a mutant isn't just fun powers. like even beyond the shit I deal with trying to get jobs or all the relationships that have been ruined once people realized I'm a mutant. abilities aren't just fun and games, I have a friend who can't touch people without nearly killing them, I burned down three buildings before someone finally taught me to control my abilities, and these people are all like "wouldn't it be great to fly to work every day??" just admit that you see us as comic book characters and not real people with real struggles

#actually mutant #jay .txt

276 notes

scamperpamperblog reblogged spocktism

🏙️tilleys-brain Follow

self diagnosing is great and all but most of you people aren't telepaths, you're just hyperempathic

#actually mutant #actually telepathic #hyperempathy #crosstagging i know but some of yall need to see this #tilley speaks #it can be dangerous to go around acting like you know peopels actual thoughts when its just your brain

1,657 notes

oh-you-pretty-things

.

#vent post #sometimes I get really mad at magneto #like I think he's done a lot for mutant rights and stuff #but I'm so fucking tired of everyone assuming that I'm evil just because of my powers #like jesus not all of us are trying to start atomic wars #some metallokinetics just use their abilities to make cool sculptures #but I can't get a spoon from across the room in front of strangers without someone mentioning jfk

3 notes

mutantbuffy reblogged muntantpollscentral

🩻mutantpollscentral

*physical mutation meaning something that is ALWAYS physical, not just something you can turn off and on whenever

#ig my mutation IS technically physical its just not visible to people most of the time so i feel weird claiming that #but like i was born with the tattoo marks #the powers didnt come till later tho #so idk which to pick

668 notes

sploimsh reblogged jesterjuleses

🎹pussy-truck-faggot

HEY! shout-out to people with *weird* mutations. Mutations that don't look cool, mutations that are gross, mutations that are dirty, mutations that you can't tell people about because they always cringe. You're just as valid as every other mutant out there. Your powers don't need to be palettable to humans for you to be treated with respect.

#THIS!!! #rb

5,678 notes

rosetvler

god i am so tired of the hypocrisy in this community. the double standards are insane. its okay to have 'scary' powers but the moment someone's abilities are scarier than like, pyrokinesis you're evil and dangerous to be around. 'acceptance' for you people only means nice mutants who've never hurt or scared anyone ever.

rosetvler reblogged rosetvler

non-mutants can reblog this btw

#srb #actually mutant #getting real tired of this

18 notes

katiedidnt reblogged morelikesexmen

🩻magicsteele27 Follow

okay like. i get that were all about acceptance and pride or w/e but no one in this tag has ever had friends irl i swear. if someone asks you not to read their mind you shouldnt. honestly you shouldnt be using telepathy on people at all without their permission. mutant abilities dont disclude you from respecting peoples boundaries

🌌rosetvler Mutuals

i swear to god you people are such hypocrites. its all 'mutant and proud' until someone has a power you dont like. its always about keeping the humans feeling comfortable instead of thinking about how it feels to never use your powers because theyre breaking 'boundaries' that were made up by humans in the first place

🩻magicsteele27 Follow

dude do you hear yourself right now

🎆jade-the-pyromancer Follow

Hey, I like your point op, but maybe you should stop trying to speak over actual telepaths and let them decide how to use their powers themselves???

🩻magicsteele27 Follow

i. i am a telepath.

#duddeeee telepaths are insane #used to be friends with one SO glad i broke that off before it went too bad

15,678 notes

[marzipanandminutiae]

Don't use disabled people to support AI, but please also don't argue against AI by saying, "What, you can't do [task that many disabled people struggle with]? What an idiot! What kind of baby can't do that!?" It's really really shitty. There are plenty of valid arguments against AI that don't mock people for struggling.

I didn't see it as calling people idiots for struggling; I saw it as calling them idiots for using that particular "solution."

there's no shame in struggling. there IS shame, and immaturity, and willful ignorance, in relying on a perceived solution that massively harms other people and the planet as a whole (and doesn't even successfully accomplish the task, to a reasonable standard, anyway)

I did consider whether I should reblog that post, since I thought it might potentially come off that way. I'm still on the fence about it, because I do think making something Uncool and Embarrassing can be a powerful tool to get rid of it. even more than any laws. I remember when I was a teenager, almost no teens smoked- not because of all the messaging around the dangers, but because it was perceived as hopelessly dated and cringeworthy (even try-hard)

stigmatizing something can be dangerous, it's true. but...I don't know. I think, if there's a way to do it judiciously, maybe we SHOULD stigmatize AI. not learning struggles, of course, but the use of bots to try and solve them (spoiler: doesn't work; the output is usually bullshit, and learning disabilities don't mean you're incapable of critical thinking anyway, so I'm not sure they're even helping with the problem here) (also most people I know who use AI aren't even disabled; they're able-bodied people who don't want to develop skills or use their own brains)

it might be the only way to get people to stop outsourcing their minds to a planet-destroying plagiarism engine

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hello... again! Are you hyperfixated on RedactedAudio?

Do you want (need) to know who to follow to cultivate your dashboard and feed your gremlin brain good, good boyfriend roleplay content and my first recommendation post of magnificent fan-artists and fan-writers wasn't enough dopamine for you?

Cool, I’ve got you, and I’ve got even more hyperlinks. Buckle up.

(Note: This is by no means a comprehensive, objective, or complete list, as I have biases and favorites and limited time. If you feel I've missed someone, please feel free to reblog with your additions! I just would have loved a guide like this when I got into the fandom back in August 2022 and wanted to spread some positivity~!)

Fanfiction:

@agentplutonium: they/them

Pluto is just one of the many gorgeous people who've migrated to Tumblr now that Twitter is, ya know, on fire. I've been following them on Tiktok for ages, and I'm so pleased they joined us on tumblr now! Highlights: "Constant" and "Inconvenience" mean the world to me, because there are just not enough aspec headcanons in the fandom, we could always have more.

@angelicaether: they/them

Aether is a fucking gem unto this fandom- not only do they run Sky Side, a friendly, closeknit (hehe) server for 21+ Redacted fans but they also were who we have to thank for Redacted Kinktober 2023, bless them~ Highlights: New Job Posting is magnificent if you’re in the mood for some David/Angel smut today and this cute couple crossover fic if you’re feeling more SFW!

@caelumsnuff: they/them

Phoenix is magnificent, creative, and endlessly sweet. I also respect the hell out of anyone that can take the anon hate that they get with as much grace and attitude as they do /gen /pos Highlights: I love this gift for the Quinn-fuckers they wrote, I do, but I have to admit I'm partial to the Imperium!Vincent/Imperium!Asher piece they did, because their tension and hatred was just too palpable to deny, I needed it.

@empydoc: any pronouns

Empy's Soul Eater AU has not only taken over my life but has also got me deeply wanted a Soul Eater rewatch. God forbid xe succeed because this post has already been delayed enough /j Highlights: I love the Marcus/Asset post, because that's my favorite pairing but also because Asset as both an android and a weapon is so, so interesting. Blake/Bestie's is also a particular gem, because being a meister just gives him a new dimension to his manipulation and I love it.

@floofdeloop: she/her

Not only is Floof a beloved fic writer but she's also one of the adored DJs of the fandom. Are you really a fan if you haven't looked up Redacted on Spotify and saved all her playlists? /j Highlights: Her whole playlist page is literally so good, but I love the cute, domestic vibes of this Geordi one or the tragic, angsty, Britrock vibes of this Porter playlist~!

@joshusten: they/them

Sten is one of if not the writer that comes to mind when you're looking for amazing Guy/Honey content! Highlights: Bitter Melon is my personal favorite of their work; what can I say? I'm a sucker for a little jealousy in my fics. You also can't miss Honeysuckle, their most recent piece which gets into Guy's canonically less-than-pure mind~

@pinksparkl: she/her

Gosh, where would we be without her? Pink never has a bad word or thought for anyone and just persists in being a delightful, sweet presence in the fandom. Highlight: I can't decide what I'm more obsessed with- their Adam-centric fic exploring the Progeny/Maker bond or their nsfw Gavin-centric with his tail exploring Freelancer nudge nudge wink wink

@redlikeredacted: they/them

Just as their blog says, they are the CEO of Dasher. In my head, they are the president of both the David/Asher and the Autistic!David fan clubs, and I'd vote for them a second and third term okay I love Red Highlights: Their "David bottoming for the first time" fic is everything to me okay I am here for nothing but this except maybe this Milo fic where he gets Aggro~

@teafairywithabook: she/they

A lovely writer, voice actor, and person, Cheri does it all! With a whole 34 Redacted works on AO3, they are a must-follow. Highlights: I'll provide the masterlist of previously mentioned works, but I must recommend her nsfw Avior/Starlight fic keeping us sated until we finally get an Avior BA and their fic of Alexis's POV of Sam's turning I couldn't not okay I'm just a person I have biases

@tepid-judas: he/they/it

My favorite Adam stan, my friend, and the person who converted me into an Adam/Brighteyes shipper, I thank Judas every day for that. Highlights: I love their series of epistolary fics, because who doesn’t love a good letter, but I would be remiss if I didn’t rec his DAMN polycule plus Xavier fic cause fuck canon let's add frosty the snowman to the orgy /lh

@themonotonysyndrome: she/her

Lady, my dearest friend and greatest foe~ How else do I describe the gorgeous, sociable, friendly person who bought Alexis/Christian into the world and ruined my life? (affectionate) Highlights: Let these two assholes in love take you on a ride, fall in love with them too. If that's not your vibe, I cannot recommend enough her insane, gen z Bright Eyes being an absolute fucking terror /pos

Fanart:

@androgynouspenguinexpert

Can YOU believe Penguin's only been posting art since, like, December? I certainly can't, because it's like they've drawn every boy at this point and each is as smoochable and adorable as the last. Highlights: Their Porter is one of my favorites; what can I say? Who can resist this high ponytail and cape combo? I also love their Hush, cause look at him~! He's adorable! Penguin gives all these boys such luscious, floofable hair; I love them!

@cute-brainz: she/they/it

Kindly, lovingly, respectfully, Cute's listeners designs reduce me to a sniveling, simpering puddle of a simp. I become nothing but a humble, simple straight man, and none of you came blame me good god their listeners are hotter than all the redacted men- Highlights: Like, look at their Lovely: the hair, the singlet, the VIBES? Fuckin irresistible; like Vincent, I'd give them anything their heart desires. And their ANGEL? The MINUTE David Shaw fumbles that bag, I'm on my knees with a ring hello earth angel will you be mine

@darling-solaire

Darl has been posting art for only a month and a half at the writing of the post, and yet I feel like I've loved their Solaires for forever. They, as a unit, are hot and tragic as fuck, and I love them. Highlights: I am obsessed, particularly, with the Solaire family portraits, but maybe that's because my girl Alexis is up there, and I love her. There's also this bust compilation of more Redacted boys in case you didn't find your favorite in the Solaires~!

@free-boundsoul: she/her

Okay so, like, vibe with me did you ever love Lisa Frank products with the bright, saturated colors and sparkling eyes but wish instead of cuddly animals that there were really hot men? Then Savvie is the artist for you~ Highlights: One, it's fun to see a Regulus that's not blue, okay? It's thinkin outside the box. Two, the CRACKS? WITH THE GOLD PEEKING THROUGH? I'm inconsolable my god. Speaking of daemons, Fool!Gavin is sort of everything to me. He's just really rocking that sweater vest!

@hotmcrodz: he/they

I know for a fact that I'm not the only one obsessed with the way Jai draws human anatomy. I have unironically seen a Jai piece in the tag and gone "WOWZA" like I'm Jim Carrey in The Mask; that's what they do to me. Highlights: This Milo was one of the pieces that made my eyes pop out my head like a cartoon wolf; I think it's the shirtlessness plus the muscle pose. I just couldn't handle it. I also reacted like that to their Babe because I am an equal opportunity pervert /hj

@izzuku: he/they

Izzuku designs characters with the most realistic and gorgeous body types; like, I love the soft jawlines and how warm and touchable they draw skin. Every Izzuku design is kissable as hell. Highlights: I have to recommend his Regulus and Hush designs, obviously, they're my favorite men. However, I can't let the world go by another rotation without recommending this special Halloween version of Vincent~!

@kilarthmac: she/they

In case we needed another reason to love and appreciate the iconic timestamping account we all recognize from the Redacted comments, we cannot neglect their fanart! Highlights: Like, look at this brought-back-wrong Vega! This Hush with his cute face and off-putting air! He's so cute and so weird! I also love this piece they've done for one of my favorite rarepairs, Imperium!Lasko/Adam~

@latenightsleeper: he/they/it/she

My kinfolk and my beloved, one of the few people who understand me and the vision that is beautiful, blonde, dumb and lovable Christian. They will give you so many feelings about Darlin and Christian, and they will cause you agony /pos Highlights: Obviously, I'm obsessed with the Tank/Christian art like this one (Christian is just so cuuute), but we're all obsessed with this Sam/Darlin animatic set to Eat Your Young.

@maxpaulll

An amazing artist that I'm so glad we managed to get to migrate to Tumblr from Twitter so I could put them on this list~ Highlights: I am obsessed always with their Indigenous character designs, especially David. Like, look at him, he's indescribably beautiful, outshone by no one except maybe Max's Imp!Vega, because oh my god look at him~

@nortyourself: she/her

I don't think there's anyone who's not obsessed with at least one of Rachel's pieces; like, I believe she'll get to every Redacted man with the speed and beauty she works. Even Reticuli has gotten the Rachel treatment and been made hot af. Highlights: Technically, this Imperium!Damien just takes me breath away; like, it would be blown up and framed in his palace (for all of his short and tempestuous reign). Personally, her Hush has a dear and special place in my heart. He's just my favorite~!

@penncilkid: any pronouns

One of the most gorgeous and darling and non-stop creators in the space! They're a true triple threat, kicking our hearts in the butt with their art, their writing, and their audio roleplay series~ Highlights: With so many mediums under their belt, it's so hard to choose. If you're looking for purely Redacted content, their art is prolific and so creative, I've got to share the whole gallery. If you're in the market for a new VA to fall in love with, you've got to check out their youtube channel~!

@pycth: any pronouns

I dont have anything creative or profound to say here- all of pycth's designs are smoking hot and would render me selectively mute with a glance, 'nuff said. Highlights: How can I PICK? Ugh, hottest of the hot that comes to mind has got to be their President Moore art; like, this pose isn't FAIR. On the other end of the spectrum, if you want your heart kicked in the butt, I don't think any of us are over this Sam piece or ever will be.

@rainingcatsandjune: any pronouns

Another new artist who's only been here since April, and yet- I would die for his and his fine-ass, touchable Sam. Like, hell, render any man pretty like that, and I'll die for him. That's how pretty this art is. Highlights: Like, look at him. How does one do anything but look at him, especially in this pose? Again, look at him! Look at the hands. The soft, touchable glow and how it lights and shades his and Darlin's skin. The broad shoulders good god~

@sainthowlzon: they/he

You can't turn a corner on tumblr without seeing some of Howl's adorable Scribble Dolls or Icons! (Or any other social media actually. I feel like I've deffo seem some of Howl's icons on Tiktok too.) They're cute, they're iconic, and there's one for almost everyone! Highlights: Here's that full set of icons for your perusal; my personal favorite is Asset's. And here's the full set of Redacted Scribble Dolls; my favorite is Regulus, I think, because of his freaky vibes, but it's so hard to pick!

@sincerelywhistler: any pronouns

Like everyone with a working set of eyes and a beating heart, I am obsessed with all of Wes's designs; like, who wouldn't fall in love at first sight with all those beautiful and often shirtless people? Highlights: There's honestly too many to pick from, but I'll TRY. Their Gavin is an absolute must, I share it with the Discord on sight, he's that it girl if you will. Oh, and one cannot neglect Avior's HBS piece; I'm not even an Avior girlie, and I was like daaaaaamnnnnnnn~

@slushiepizza: they/them

Where would all the guy-lovers be without Slushie and their absolute cornucopia of Guy and Honey delights? Like, where else would we get our homemade, MacGyver'd serotonin? Highlights: The "Everyday" series is everything to me, and I mean everything; Guy has become too relatable and has struck me right in the heart. If you're not in a Guy mood, I'm also in love with their older, cozy Anton~!

@s0lairee: she/they

Jo's style is just so clean, so cute, and I really love it when they play with lighting in their pieces. Like, we are almost, almost there to making me stan Vincent if you're gonna drape him in moonlight like that... Highlights: ...thought, if I had to pick, I'd probably lean more towards Vincent's partner. They're rocking the red eyes, I love them! I'm also obsessed with their freckle-y, sweet Lasko, because who isn't?

@strawberrybouvine: he/they

The artistic equivalent of gourmet candy, I am absolutely obsessed with the gorgeous colors of Jasper's art and cannot get enough of the sweetness! Is this sugar running through my veins or unparalleled cuteness? Highlights: I'm not even a David stan but, like, jesus christ, the long hair and hairy chest makes me want to go feral. Don't even get me started on the cuteness of his chibi art, I really will start foaming at the mouth.

@theflowersaremine

I don't know exactly what medium Haylin uses or what colors or effects they use, but goddamn it makes those men so dreamy. I'm not even a Sam stan, but that's a smoochable man right out of Gilmore Girls /pos Highlights: Like, are you seeing the Gilmore Girls vision? That's a handsome man from a wholesome show geared for women- almost as handsome as this art of David. I see this smile in my dreams; it's so beautiful.

@venuslove-28: any pronouns

Venus's art is strawberry and vanilla soft serve injected straight into my heart; it's so familiar and cute, so charming, and I want to stim and bounce in excitement when I see it. Does that make sense? It'll make sense when you see it. Highlights: Personally, I have never and I will never stop thinking about this Huxley, I am simply not capable. Their Avior is also cuter than all get-out, I must admit.

@wingless-cupid

I don't think anyone does cute and colorful and pastel and kawaii quite like Cupid. You can't help but look and admire all the eye-catching colors and then want to hug their cheery, dynamic characters! Highlights: I'm highkey obsessed with their Freelancer and DAMNily and all their d(a)emons in general. Like, look at this! Minh is such a cutie and a simp, I love them! I'm also constantly thinking about this art in particular, because look at all these PRICELESS EXPRESSIONS!

@yoteako: he/it

Would you like stunning, high quality art and tragic, old man yaoi on your dash? That's a silly question; of course you do which is why we're going to follow and love on Yote. Highlights: See how beautiful, doomed, and intimate this multi-page comic is about two characters who've never canonically spoken? That's devotion. On the less forsaken side of the narrative, their Gavin/Lasko ship art is embedded into my heart.

If you’re reading all the way here, I hope you found the post helpful and smiled while making your way through it! Or both! The RedactedAudio fandom is truly one of my favorite spaces on the internet; it’s so intimate and creative, and I’ve found some amazing, perfect friends here, so I hope you will too 💖