#Sorry I'm just really pissed off right now

[dilf-docs]

To The Devil I Know

dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: your infamous girl's trip with your best friend sarah gets crashed by his overprotective dad. but what is the perfect way to leash all your anger out?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, it's pussy spanking time again bc i do in fact like it a lot, praise/daddy kink sprinkled somewhere, reader calls him mr. miller A LOT, exhibition kink (v nasty), degradation kink (he calls her little slut), pantie sniffing (joel's kind of a perv, ay), dirty talk (they have a sentence awaiting in horny jail), y/n grinds on joel's nose bc yeah i too want that, this is contradicting but lwk sub!joel bc that man's touch starved as HELL, may do a part two idk pls give it love, dad!bod joel bc i say so (yummy), no angst (wtf dilf-docs? the angst gods are so pissed off rn)

word count: 7,195 words

side note: this request got me HOOKED the moment i opened it and since i'm currently on a pedro hyperfixiation rn, we need to put the mental illness to good use. also, this is lwk based on the song by suki waterhouse devil i know! :) i'm seeing that i have two joel fics with devil in the title btw something something abt nickels and not being a lot but weird it happened twice also WE HIT 300 FOLLOWERS??? (and its 1am and i have to wake up at 4am is anyone surprised atp...)

"Sarah!" you shout, "get your ass out here you looser!"

It's probably eight in the morning, and here you are, honking and shouting in the middle of the quiet calm suburbs.

When you spot her curly head running towards you in a rush, you know she's pissed.

"Stop screaming!" she shouts back, "my neighbours will hate me"

You've known Sarah since you were kids. When you first moved to Texas, she was the only one who spoke to you in school. You grew up with her among white picket fences and scrapped knees, mantaining the friendship even as you moved away, until your return for college.

"Why would I even care? I don't live here!" you joke from the driver's seat, hopping off and giving her a hug. "I'm sorry but I can't help it. I'm just so excited for this trip, we've been planning it for ages!"

You keep talking excitedly about your plans, not noticing how her face falls.

"Yeah, about that..."

"You girls ready?" a third voice enters the picture, definitely not belonging to a girl.

"Uh, Sarah" you breath in, "Why the fuck is your dad here?"

In all his glory: Joel Miller, a guy you haven't seen in forever, too busy living in the dorms, girl dates with Sarah often out of her house. You wanted to explore the world: you weren't ten anymore, and the suburbs lost all of it's appeal they had when you were the age of Barbies and drawing on chalk.

"Listen, y/n. I tried, I really tried. But as soon as I opened my mouth, he started to pack his bags"

"Isn't your dad always busy at work?" you inquire, another one of the reasons Joel's face isn't a fresh memory in your head.

"That's part of the problem. He took all of the pending vacations he had at once" she sighs, sounding as dissapointed as you are. "I understand if you don't want to go"

"Are you being serious right now?" you chuckle dryly. "No, absolutely not. I saved for this trip, packed my favorite outfits and aced all my classes so my parents would allow me. Nothing is going to ruin this for me: not you, not your dad. So we'll go and we'll have all the fun we planned, yeah?" you express firmly, holding her hands. "We will have our girl summer, no matter what. Even if we have to ignore the elephant in the room..."

"Did you just call me fat?"

You turn around, and there he is: the uninvited. Joel Miller's aged face stands before you, strong arms flexing under the pressure of a couple of suitcases.

"No" you reply back, "just a nuissance"

He chuckles at your response, amused. "If you thought I'd let my babygirl go alone with you to the beach and get shit-faced drunk, you're not as smart as I remember, y/n"

Your name would always be on his tongue to call you out. Y/n, don't do that. Y/n apologize to the neighbours. Y/n, slow down. Y/n, don't be so stubborn. You were always a troublemaker, and his lips would only know how to pronounce your name if to berate you. But now, as his mouth says your name with a newly learned tone, dripping with dare and amusement, you can't help but feel a fire ignite that burns your skin.

"Dad!" Sarah calls out, taking you out of your thoughts. She flushes in embarrasment, and you scoff at the idea of giving too much of your time to think about Mr. Miller of all people. "I'm not ten anymore, we'll be just fine"

"You're barely of legal age!" he counters back. "What if somethin' was to happen to you, huh? I'd never forgive myself"

You get annoyed at his over-the-top reactions. What did he think you were gonna do? The wildest thing you had in mind was getting drunk while sitting in the sand. Not even in the water! You may be a wild spirit, but stupid you're not.

"Look, Mr. Miller" he cocks his head to the side, daringly so, almost as if waiting for you to try. "I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't Driveway Dolls" he looks at you confused, so you try again, "Or Thelma and Louise, whatever suits your fucking old ass. Alright? This is a girls trip, heard that? Just two bestfriends enjoying their youth and summer without boys around to ruin it for them"

"Boys?" he laughs. "Too bad, then, 'cause sweetheart, I'm a man"

Your breath hitches, but you're not going to let him win; you always need to have the last word.

"Well, man up and let your daughter be free for once!"

Sarah covers her face with her palms, clearly knowing her dad more. This is a lost battle.

"Stop, y/n. Please. Dad's impossible to bend"

"He's ruining our trip!" you protest, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Take it or leave it" he leans against his truck, crossing his arms. Your eyes dart to the strained fabric of his sleeves, and when he chuckles, you don't know if he noticed or it's because of his imminent victory.

"Fine!" you throw your hands in the air, dramatically so. "Welcome on board, intruder"

Joel Miller smiles, and maybe it's the rare sight, not even common back in the day, that makes your heart skip a beat.

"And we're taking my truck"

"Are you being serious right now?!" Was this man going to take away all your freedom?

He laughs, mockingly. Rage bubbles in your chest, along something darker you aren't going to admit just yet.

"There is no way my daughter is going on a fucking hatchback to the beach"

You try to distract yourself talking to Sarah in the backseat, but her dad's prying glances time to time from the rear view mirror have you shifting uncomfortably on your seat.

He's persistent, always has been. Joel Miller, just as Sarah said, wasn't a man who could be bent. You'd remember thinking he was a sort of superhero: unbreakable. Whenever Sarah needed help, a pair of strong arms would be there, ready to take the weight off of her shoulders. He was now older, as you have noticed: grey and wrinkles sprayed all over his face. And now, the worst part of it all:

Age had made him infuriatingly attractive.

Unfair, you think, that a man so bitter that only seemed to worry and nag, was blessed with the rare quality of aging like wine. You can deny it anymore: whatever Joel Miller has now that he didn't before is working on you like a lovesick spell.

You look again to the front, just in time to catch one of his subtle (not really) stares. You keep the eye contact, only he tears away his gaze first, something akin to regret and fear circling on his warm brown orbs. The fire from before cracks inside of your belly, and the anticipation begins.

If he was going to ruin your trip, you might as well return the favor.

"M' gonna stop for gas" he says after some minutes of silence, deviating towards a gas station.

You take the opportunity to get out of the truck to strech your legs. Sarah does so too, but then whispers into your ear:

"Tell my dad I need to go to the bathroom. Don't want him worrying"

As if you'll talk to him. Despite that, you nod and she leaves you alone with her annoying dad.

"Reckless too, huh?" Joel appears by your side, almost making you drop your phone. "You know you're not s'pposed to use the damn phone on a gas station? Good thing I ain't let my daughter go alone with you"

You put your phone down. "Reckless? I know what I'm doing" but you sound nervous, for some reason.

"You haven't changed at all, have you?" Joel says, his voice surprisingly soft.

You heart gets stuck in your throat at the sudden shift, "I suppose not"

"I get that you hate me" he confesses, done filling the tank, "but I couldn't let the two of you go alone"

Your cheeks turn pink at the accusation, "I don't hate you"

He laughs, and the sound has something stirring in the lower of your belly. Why is Joel Miller of all people provoking feelings in you no other boy has ever provoked? You're used to playing with boys as you please, and you come to realize that's where the difference lies: you don't know how to handle a man.

A man so strong, your eyes don't leave him as his arms flex while pumping the gas, the delicious peek his simple white shirt gives you not going unnoticed; droplets of sweat on his temple, sliding down his jawline then getting lost down the crook of his neck. You lick your lips on instinct, horrified when you realize what you've just thought and done.

"Damn right you don't"

You could say you've reached some kind of truce, but then Sarah comes back, and when you look at Joel again, he's reverted to that annoying apathic state of his, but instead of bothering you, it only makes you want more.

"Hey" he says to Sarah, "where you went?"

"I had to pee, dad. Relax" she dismisses, shooting at you a can-you-believe-it look.

He walks away, ready to jump in the driver's seat again, when he turns around to whisper to Sarah:

"Don't ever leave me again" tone stern, "not with her"

But you hear.

You arrived late, the sun hiding behind the large body of water that seemed infinite.

"I can't believe we missed the first sunset!" you whine. "It was going to look so good on my Instagram stories..."

"This generation and their problems" Joel scoffs, taking the suitcases to the house you've rented for the next two days.

The answer is right at the tip of your tongue, but you decide to be the bigger person and remain quiet. If he wants to play, you better play smart.

"Dad, please" Sarah calls him out, and you have to hide a laugh. "Don't fight with y/n"

"I ain't doing shit" he sneers, crossing his bulking arms.

Sarah walks past him, muttering against his childishness. That angers Joel, who tries to remain cool.

"I know you hate me" you suddenly appear by his side. Your vainilla scent gets up on his nose, invading his body of you. "I just think you should try, for Sarah"

"I don't hate you" he answers, and now it's your turn to laugh.

"Yeah? Doesn't seem like it, Mr. Miller" it comes out before you can stop it, and there's something dark lurking behind his brown eyes piercing through you.

"I don't" sounding more sure this time. Serious too.

"You'll have to prove that"

You enjoy the surprise on his face and the light pink sprinkled across his cheeks.

"Prove that?"

You nod, finding all of this suddenly funny.

"Hmh, you heard me. Prove it, Mr. Miller. That you don't hate me"

But before he can respond, your bestfriend is back.

"Y/n, come on! You need to check the house. It has a shared balcony!" Sarah beams giddy.

You let her excitement infect you, taking her hand as you go inside the house. Joel stays back, your words ringing on his ears.

On the other hand, Sarah and you check the room together.

"Look this" she points at one of the mirrors in the room: it has details that remind you of the sea. "Isn't it cute?"

"It is" you agree, "we should take a picture"

"Okay. But use your phone" she says, "mine died on the road"

You're about to pull it out when you feel your pockets empty.

"It's... not here"

"You might have left it in the car" she tries to help.

"Yeah" you try to remain level-headed, "I'll go search for it"

You return to the truck, pressing your head against the window. Just like your friend guessed, it's there, abandoned on the seat.

"Lost somethin'?"

You gasp, turning around. Joel Miller's face is centimeters away from yours, breathing heavily as his body cages your smaller frame against the truck's doors.

"My phone" you find your voice after what feels like eternity, "it's inside the car"

"Need help with that?" his voice sounds low, whisper easily to be confused with a growl.

You don't know how to answer, scared for the first time of where your mouth could take you. So your solution is to nod, and step aside for him to open the car.

"There you go" he's dropping it in your hands, fingers lightly brushing yours. There's a shiver down your spine despite the cool weather, and you know damn well it's all his fault. He may feel it too, by the way he takes a step back, putting some distance.

"Need anything else?" but it feels like a slap to the face, as if he's challenging you to speak what you've been thinking but are too coward to do when he stands before you.

"No" you mentally slap yourself for how pathetic you sound, "this is all I needed, Mr. Miller. Thanks"

You look back one last time, despite it all. And there it is: that same look he gave you in the car.

"Anytime" but it falls deaf to your ears, as you basically ran away from him.

Him and his imposing presence, enough to make your legs tremble and your mind to stop working. Him and his smell, that brings you back to simpler times and reminds you of a a secret place in the woods, musk getting under your skin. Him and his breath, hitching when you touch hands. Him and his beating heart, just as loud as yours.

"Took you long" Sarah comments when you return, "I was already falling asleep"

She doesn't know or suspect, you tell yourself, but that doesn't stop you from feeling sick.

That night, as Sarah lays by your side and you try to sleep, all you can think about is his big hands, the lingering feeling of a warm touch. And then Joel, stepping back―coming to his senses, as if something is holding him back.

Anytime.

You can't help but wonder what stopped him.

Days have blurred between drinks by the poolside, waves crashing, wet sand in your fingers and sun carressing skin.

Despite what happened, Joel remains in the shadows, letting you and Sarah enjoy your trip in peace. You may be spending time with your bestfriend, but his presence hangs in the air, impregnated with his strong pine and whisky smell, looming over you like a shadow; suffocating, like his scent is all you can breath. You hate how your mind keeps going back to him, because despite your inicial claims to ruin him, that wasn't the purpose of this vacation, yet Joel seems to have infected you with a need that corners your mind to think of him and him only. The greed you feel is unnatural, like a spell has been cast upon you. He may be far, just as you wanted, and you should enjoy that, but it's that very same distance that is driving you insane.

Today, you and Sarah decided to go diving and then play volleyball.

The day ends, the sun sets, and so does the tiredness. But as Sarah's snores fill your ears, you toss around the bed, trying to conceal sleep to no avail.

Staring at the ceiling, you kept drifting back to Joel, mind wondering and heart racing at thoughts of strong arms caging you, warmth in your body that the breeze creeping through flowing curtains fails to provide.

The sound of wood creaking jolts you awake. His silhoutte is hard to miss, and your eyes follow it cross your bedroom. You pretend to be asleep, his scent up your nose as he walks in careful measured steps, trying not to wake you up. He looks back at Sarah, and the moonlight betrays him when it shines over his eyes, revealing an adoration that gnaws your chest.

He keeps walking, until he reaches the shared balcony. It's then that you make a choice, heart pounding in your chest as you race yourself from bed, going his way.

You go outside, finding him resting his arms on the balcony, facing the beach in silence. Soft waves crash against the wet sand, but not even that can overpower the sound of your beating heart.

"What're you doin' here?" he's asking, even if you haven't moved from your spot. Seems like your friend wasn't joking about his heightened senses, despite his old age. "Thought y'were 'sleep"

"Well, Sarah is a fast sleeper" you answer, walking to his side.

"She sure is" and the faintest of a smile appears on his face.

Joel Miller is a mystery to you: the most closed off man you've ever met, hiding behind his apparent apathy that only seems to be gone whenever Sarah is around. She's the apple of his eye, and those soft traces of a more tamed character that come to light have truly picked your interest, begging for more crumbs that will help you puzzle who he really is: he, that is as handsome as a mystery. The worst is, you don't know what attracts you more.

But you won't let him win.

"Mr. Miller?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you married?"

He looks at you, dark eyes partly iluminated by the moonlight.

"Aren't you a bit too young to be bold?"

"And aren't you too hot to be all alone?" you reply in an instant, rendering him speechless.

He chuckles, but it sounds defeated rather than amused.

"Trust me, kid" he's back at facing the ocean. Goddamn coward. "This isn't what you want"

"Don't call me kid" you berate, almost repulsed at it. "I'm twenty one"

He scoffs. "Still hella young"

"But I know what I want" a wavering hand ready to trace over his pecs, but he's stopped you before it descends. Before it's too late.

"You don't" he assures, grip on your hand stronger, without knowing how much you're enjoying this. Or maybe he does. "See? That's the problem with you kids: you think you do, but you don't"

You loose your patience.

"Tell me then, Mr. Miller. Would a kid do this?"

Taking the distraction, the same hand flies now to grop his dick, and to your surprise, it's already hard.

"Seems I'm not the only one who doesn't know what they want"

"Stop" he warns, hissing when your eager fingers unbuckle his belt. It's huge, for some reason, and you can't help but feel an ardent throb at the thought of grinding on it.

When your eyes look at Joel, he swears he sees you devilishly smirk, almost as if you were mocking him.

"Stop?" you bite your lip, feigning innocence as doe eyes look where dark ones had done before. "If that's what you want, you aren't even trying"

You kneel down, and the position gives you the perfect side of his adam's apple bobbing in a nervous gulp. He grows insecure under your intense stare, breath hitching when the wind hits his now free member as you pull down his underwear, revealing it hard and leaking with precum. You laugh delighted, with victory, and he finds himself trapped between the moon and your games, drowning on a sea feet away.

"I think I know what you want"

"How? You don't even know what you want" barely fighting it.

Your fingers grace over his soft abdomen, tracing down his belly and happy trail. Your teeth nip at the skin scattered with soft rosy lines, peppering the skin with fluttering kisses to entertain your mouth until your digits touch his hard cock. Joel whines, squirming, and you're delighted with the receptiveness, needy sounds escaping his lips.

You haven't even started yet.

"You're right, I don't" you agree. "All I know is you piss me off and that you ruined our trip, so I'm gonna take my anger out on you one way... or another"

You take your first lick, savouring the dark red head. His hips buck, a shaky gasp robbed from his chapped lips.

"Fuck" he exhales weakly, lost against the sound of water.

"Don't worry, Mr. Miller. I'll take good care of you" admiring his girth. He looks down on you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Joel can't lie and say he isn't fascinated with the way you look at him, not believing so much appetite can fit in such a small young body. Not even his partners before you, had looked at him like he was the best thing in the world, and now here you were: the loud-mouthed brat best friend of his daughter, sucking his cock while Sarah slept just a few meters away. Just yersteday he was bickering with you, not standing your spoiled attituted and juvenile spirit that can't be tamed and won't shut up. Hell, you had even disrespected him. But here he is, not being able to find the words or actions to stop you: because he doesn't want to.

It was all so fucked up.

But then you're closing your lips around his swollen head, and he knows there's no point in fighting it anymore, his whole body urging him to give in.

"Oh, fuck" he pants, getting all worked up as you take him deeper. "Keep goin'. You're doin' a great job, sweetheart"

The praise gets to you, even if not needed.

Your tongue swirls, running the muscle with wet slides, up and down, tip to base, some pressure applied. You proceed to take in his balls, feeling him tense up. You wanted to mock him badly, but your mouth was full of his dick, so that wasn’t happening.

"D-don't stop" he pleads, sounding more like a whine.

He's deep enough that it hits your throat. You've never been this greedy, but also, have never tried with a dick so big. You feel him in the roof of your mouth, your lips at the base of the tip, brushing against skin. Joel can't keep up: breath hitching, moans ragged and consumed, barely standing if it wasn't for your hands digging in his thighs for support.

You keep building pace, seeing Joel's face scrunch up.

"M' close" his voice comes out strained, his head tilting back, wild soft locks from before now plastered against his forehead, dripping with sweat. His muscles tense, you can feel it, and it's just about time before he's coming inside your mouth.

You want it. To taste more of him, who you claim to hate but feels oh so good. Strong, just as his presence.

"So good, fuck, you're so good" in a tone so needy and desperate. It falls out of his lips, followed by more unintelligible praises dripping from his tongue.

And then, in a shaky breath, lost to the wind:

"Y/n"

You gasp, and he feels it, the air ticklish on his sensitive skin.

Joel said your name.

Your name, in a way it had never been said before. Uttered like a prayer, submerged in devotion. Your name, melting into his moans, deep within him, the calling full of a primal desire. The experience is intoxicating, making you crave more.

Joel comes with a groan, head falling back. Your name dies on his lips as his hips thrust up with your lips closing in. Thick spurts of cum mix with saliva in the back of your throat. You pull out, a string of saliva still connecting you to his dick. He looks down on you, body shaking as much as yours. Without breaking eye contact, he wipes some of the mess drooling from your lips, his calloused thumbs carresing you with a softness you didn't think was possible. The contrast makes you falter a bit, and you know Joel notices.

"There you go" your voice comes out hoarse, avoiding his eyes, "now you know what you want"

He chuckles, giving you a hand to stand up. As you raise to your feet, his face is barely inches away from yours. You can see the lines time has marked across his face, the grays coloring hair you remember to be brown, and those eyes―piercing through you like they know you better than you know yourself.

"But do you?"

Joel Miller doesn't know what is regret.

He didn't feel it when Sarah arrived unexpectedly at the ripe age of twenty, forcing him out of college. He didn't feel it when Sarah's mother left him alone to raise his daughter all by himself, aware he had tried it all to make it work. He surely didn't feel it when you came back after leaving Texas, long gone the childlike wonder and features that made him see you as an extension of his daughter, his gaze lingering a bit too long on this familiar face in a beautiful blooming new body.

But this is different, and he isn't sure if, for the first time, he's finally known what is regret.

Joel Miller also doesn't know when to back out of a fight.

He remember his brother Tommy, practically begging to let go of some asshole that dared to pick up on him, knuckles bloody no matter if he was young then and old as stubborn now, the same red painted across his willfull hands.

But now those hands prickle and sweat, no matter how much he runs them over the fabric of his jeans. And now, as your dangerous stare pierces through him across the small table, Sarah oblivious to the game as she quietly munchs her cereal, Joel Miller backs down, his gaze the first to look away.

He realizes just now why he was so afraid to look up to the sky after you left. The same stars that stared back from the high of the dark night are akin to the ones dancing in your eyes.

"Mr. Miller" your voice breaks his train of thoughts.

"Where's Sarah?" he asks in a panicked voice, realizing you've been left alone.

"Brushing her teeth" you answer, slightly taken back by his tone. "We were going out today, remember?"

Ah, yes. A little tour to an island not to far away from there.

"M' not goin'. Sorry, kid" he's decided. Before you can speak, Sarah returns and asks the question herself.

"M' tired. That's all" but it sounds rather an excuse.

"Are you sure, dad?" Sarah presses, not sure why he had changed his mind at the last minute.

"Yeah" he insists, all while avoiding those eyes of yours, unsatisfied and searching for answers of questions qithout a voice. "You girls go and have fun"

So you do.

You go and feel like you're inside of Mamma Mia (your favorite movie; both of you learned ABBA's discography thanks to it, something that offended your parents), the sun reflecting in the water, the little island with its green and sun, and the flowers that dust their petals into the shore where your boat arrives.

But when the trip is over and soft waves rock your return, you think of Joel.

You think you should feel at least a little ashamed of becoming so obssesed with a man in barely two days, who, on top of it all, is your bestfriend's dad. But then you remember the taste of him inside your mouth, how his dick had rasped against your throat, his seed warm in the tip of your tongue. And then his eyes, promises meant to be broken locked away behind tides of fear, that do an excellent job of reminding you how easy is to drown; to fall for how in hazel flickers, Joel seems he'd give you the world.

"Let's get drunk" you deadpan once you're back at the shore.

Sarah laughs at your determination, then realizes you're serious.

"What?"

"Yeah, it's our last day here" you reason. "Besides, your dad isn't here. What's he going to say?"

If you sound between angry and dissapointed at his absence, Sarah remains quiet.

"We're running away" she tries one last time, but by the look in your eyes, you've made your choice.

"Are we? We're twenty-one, Sarah. We can do whatever the fuck we want" you feel rebellious all of a sudden, "what? Don't you wanna give this trip a grand finale?"

So you crash into the nearest bar and waste the night away, drinking and dancing. But you're ordering a drink you don't like, and in every glass of whiskey down your throat, his name hangs in the air like the memory of his smell, locked behind a vault as if it's too sacred to say. But when Sarah gets a boy to dance and lends his friend to you, you wish there was rough where soft meets your skin, and chapped when you kiss his lips. Your body burns ablaze with sweat, alcohol and regret, a dangerous combination that makes you pull Sarah out of the bar when you feel you're about to black out. She complains, but you're set on making it to the bed before your eyelids shut.

Maybe it's because you always had what you wanted, or maybe it was the forbidden, but whatever reason had pushed you in Joel's orbit, refused to let you go.

And maybe you're imagining his voice, scolding you like a kid. Maybe you're seven again, and in the shadows of the bed, you've gone back to your childhood days. Y/n, y/n, y/n. That sick berating tone of his, acting like you're stupid and small.

"Fucking brat" he spats, drops of his angry scowl landing on your cheek. You then realize he's hovering over you, and it's real, not a product of your foggy mind. So you stand up, sobering up a bit, when he charges back again. "Makin' my daughter pass out? What the fuck were you thinkin'? Could've ended in the middle of the street. You're s'pposed to go to the damn island and then come back!"

Your mouth tastes like sand, but even if you've passed out a couple hours ago, the fire doesn't die. So your tongue is back, finding it's voice to say:

"Well, if you hadn't left us alone, this wouldn't have happened"

He chuckles, darkly. Humorless. "I see"

"What?" you challenge, a shiver down your spine that looses itself somewhere else.

"You got my daughter drunk as revenge"

You're mortified at the accusation, the remnants of alcohol now long gone of your system.

"Do you think I'd risk me and my friends' safety for you? Out of all people, you?" not caring if you sound bitter.

The truth sticks to your skin as uncomfortably as the sweat.

"I dunno, sweetheart. That's why I'm asking you" the pet name rolls effortlessly, in a rough voice that creates a wet spot in your panties. He gets closer, and you can see the tremble of his lips as he lets out a shaky breath. "Be a good girl and answer"

"I won't tell you shit" you spit.

"You little mix, thinkin' you can run your tongue like it ain't been 'round my cock before" you look like a deer caught in headlights, and Joel's enjoying this more than he should. "That's right, what'd Sarah think knowing her friend's a little slut for'er daddy's cock?"

The electric current that crosses your body sparks the fire of the woods hiding behind his auburn storms.

Now you're feeling high on a forest fire. You want the flames to engulf you, even if ashes is all there'll be left.

"Tell me you want this" his forehead clashes against yours, and the whole world falls silent, except for your ringing ears.

"I want this" and he's just as surprised as you are by the unwavering conviction. "I need you, Mr. Miller"

You try to get up, but he pushes you with full force back into your bed. Then, the base creaks, and he's on top of you, his weight pressing you against the mattress.

"What are you-"

"You think I'd let you get away easily? Have things your way? Naive lil' girl" he tuts, "I'll punish you for that"

As on cue, drowned out snores are heard from your side.

"But, Sarah-" you try to protest, his body caging you under his mercy.

"That'll mean you're behavin', right?" he runs his thumb across your lips, gently pulling them down, as if the chase was thrilling as eating the prey. "I know you don't want to wake her up and see her slut of a friend bangin' her daddy"

You tense, remaining silent at the threat, even if your body reacts other ways.

"Good girl"

He’s quick to get rid you of your shorts.

"Fuckin' hell" he murmurs against your neck, the clothing discarded somewhere in the room. "Wearin' this little shitty bottoms to rail me up, knowin' damn well when to bent and get me hard. Been thinkin' of takin' them off ever since you wore 'em first"

The confession makes you whine, and Joel's delighted by the sound, and just how putty you are under his big rough hands.

"Let's see what we got here" his large hands caress your thighs as he settles between your legs. "Black lace, baby? Such a fuckin' tease. Wore 'em for me?"

You shake your head, but his calloused digits dig on the plush skin of your thighs, making you wince at the pain.

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart. You'd said you'll be a good girl, yeah?" you nod, soaking wet, painfully so.

"Yes, I'll be"

"Show me your manners, then" he presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, close to where you need his graying beard to tickle, "and I'll show you mine"

"Just eat me, Joel" you demand breathlessly. "Fuck. Need you, Mr. Miller, so bad"

"And why should I reward you, impatient little slut? Eager to get daddy's filthy mouth between that pretty pussy" Joel bites the inside of your thigh, and it takes all of your strength to avoid becoming a moaning mess. "You've been bad, sweetheart. A brat"

You deny it, but his head dissappears between your legs, licking the wet spot on your panties. You squirm under the teasing of his tongue, legs shutting close on instinct. You drown a whimper in your palm as he yanks your panties away.

"Don't do anything I ain't tell you to" demanding, and if you weren't this horny and out of your mind, you'd probably be scared. "There'll be consequences"

You try to obey. But then his nose, that big nose you want covered in your slick as you grind off of it between your legs, sniffs your panties. He gives it one big sniff, and then two, fingers going white as he holds the piece of fabric with too much force, shoving it on his face.

"Ye'r too fuckin' sweet, I'll give you that" he mumbles in a drunken haze. "Need to taste that drippin' cunt of yours 'night"

The bed creaks again, or maybe it's the sound of his bones starting to give in to old age, but Joel is sucking your clit, tongue pushed inside of your puffy folds. You hide a moan against his lips, hands traveling to grip his hair.

"Joel" you breathe out. 

He parts your folds easily, and before you know it, a rugged finger circles your entrance. Your back arches, and then he leaves place for his mouth again, flicking your sensitive core with his tongue. A moan a little too loud escapes your lips, making his eyes darken when the bed next to you shifts, Sarah tossing in her sleep.

"You dumb fuckin' brat. What'd I say?" his hand slams against your pussy, a sting you've never felt before, both showered in pain and pleasure, spreading across your cunt. "Don't disobey me. Apologize, now"

He stops his minstrations, and you're so achingly close to your orgasm, that the answer falls easy and rushed from your lips.

"Sorry, Mr. Miller"

"Good girl" Joel praises as he pushes his finger in, next to his tongue on your clit.

But the orgasm is so deliciously close, and you can't wait for more. So now you're grinding in his face by reflex, rubbing against his big nose just like you'd imagined. You whine at the sensation, and Joel rests his tongue flat on your clit with surprise.

"Who gave you permission to do that?" but his voice sounds more amused than nagging. "That imagination of yours is somethin' else. Have you been thinkin' bout it all this time, hmh, greedy dirty slut?"

The orgasm looms closer, hitting when Joel pushes a second rough finger in, walls clenching against his digits. He pulls away, licking his fingers with his tongue.

"Such a perfect pussy you got there, sweetheart. As sweet as you when you ain't bein' a pain in the ass"

You laugh breathless, trying to recover.

"Wanna taste?"

So now he's kissing you for the first time, his lips rough against plush skin, nibbling with your lower lips between his teeth, his tongue still tasting like you roaming free inside your mouth, like he wants to mark every corner; imprint himself in you. You've never wanted anything, hell, anyone more. The kiss leaves you hanging, heart racing at the closeness of his face and the warmhearted feeling of his lips on yours, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together.

"There you go" he chuckles, enamoured at the sight of your puffy lips. "Now it's my turn"

He's quick to get rid of the jeans and belt (oh well, it'll be another day) until he's over you, just wearing his boxers.

You'd never seen Joel naked before, why would you? But there's a vague memory of hot summer days, trying to survive the heat in the town's pool, just as the rest. He was there, eye candy for the mothers and horny teens. You hadn't understand back then, when he was all muscle, but you do know, where the mighty strenght is still hidden there, somewhere between his sturdy arms and chest as soft as his belly, round as it pushes above the only piece of cloth that forbids you to see his dick. His chest is full of hair, and God, you feel so dirty wanting to bury your face in the sweat drenched patch.

"Stop lookin' at me like that" he teases, but there is a small voice of insecurity hiding its undertones beneath his smirk under your stare.

"You're so fucking hot, Joel" comes out before you can stop it, now mouth acting up on its own.

Fuck, he thinks, he's too far gone. There's no point of return.

Your eager fingers pull down the underwear, fingers grazing the softness of his length. You slowly grabs his dick as he comes closer, never seeing anything as big and provoking as it. That makes you tighten your grip on his dick, which stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin. 

He positions himself between your legs again.

"Let's put this big bad boy to use, huh?"

He grunts at your words, large hands finding your thighs for support, as he caresses up and down the skin littered with marks and kisses.

Joel pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck.

"Tell me if it hurts" all softness on his eyes, his forehead falling against yours, as if he hadn't been punishing you just minutes ago. Your heart races at the gesture, tender meeting the rough of his edges.

The real question isn't asked, but you're on the pill and you trust him. You just want to fill him inside of you, all of him.

"I will, Mr. Miller"

He slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, quickly muffled by his palm as he stays buried deep inside of you, givimg you time to adjust to his size. It burns, but you enjoy the way the pain feels. He slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your slick folds take him, and he grunts, supporting his aching body by the forehead against yours one more time.

"So tight, sweetheart. Ain't nobody ruinin' this pussy but me" his growl comes out possesive as Joel establishes a steady rhythm. You softly moan as he keeps moving, pounding into you, hitting a spot no one had before, making you see stars. It gets harder to stay quiet, but Joel caputres every little sound that comes out of you in a kiss, as if that way he could preserve them better and forever.

You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close as your walls clench around him, his thrusts harder yet slower as he keeps going, ramming into you.

"Look at you, coatin' my dick like a fuckin' meltin' ice cream" he gently pushes it again between your folds, rubbing his dick on your clit. "So fuckin' wet, for me"

His lips are slightly parted and his eyes looked all fogged up, lost in the fire, thrusts becoming sloppier as he too feels it coming.

"So fuckin' pretty" drips from his mouth, and there's the stars in your eyes and the light you insist he's always had, even if he'd prefere the darkness. "The prettiest girl in the world with the sweetest pussy, givin' it all to this ol' perverted fuck"

The words and his big dick inside of you makes your eyes flutter shut on instinct.

"Don't sleep on me, baby" he coos, a hand brushing damp hair from your face. You recognize the look: the same in the car, on the balcony and on the poarch of his house, after letting the years go by. Back then, you thought you had dreamed it, but now that the secret saccharine sweetness reveals herself as he slams into you, you know it was real.

This is real.

You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he pounds you so gently yet so rough, trying to show him without words that whatever this wrong and sick feeling was, you felt the same.

"Such'a good girl, takin' me so well" Joel grunts, slamming to the hilt. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna-"

His dick twitches inside of you, walls spasming around his cock as your pussy takes it all, milking him dry.

"Take it all, like the good girl you are"

Both of you pant, and it takes him a while to realize the sun is raising again until its rays hurt his eyesight.

He's about to tell you how this shouldn't be, how he, at such an old age shouldn't be pinning for his daughter's friend: so young, sweet and loud-mouthed. No matter if you felt the same, or if your body was marked in and out by him, No, because wanting isn't enough, and no tide could wash away his sins from the shore.

"Listen, y/n-" your name like he has never said it before: no scold, no malice nor lust. Just a softness he hadn't felt in years, asleep under thick layers of cold.

But your soft snores fill the silence between the beats of his heart.

tags: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrosgrogu thank you sm for reading! hope u enjoy it :)

[miamooooo]

josh putting a bratty reader in their place.

(warnings): nsfw, reader has female anatomy, pussy spanking, cunnilingus, overstimulation, spitting, slightly proofread, sorry for any typos!

yes josh loves a mouthy or sassy partner. josh gives off vibes of enjoying someone with a little brattiness to their personality because he loves how unpredictable you are. he finds it so easy to tease you, and he thinks it's both cute and hot when you don't take his shit and call him out. but he also enjoys putting you in your place if he needs to as well.

so imagine getting mouthy with josh after he asks you a simple question. you're giving him the nastiest attitude, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms.. and at first he thinks maybe you're just having a bad day, so he lets it slide... not without a few jokes that pisses you off, obviously. but if it persists...

josh is murmuring to himself as he makes his way to the bedroom. he stops by the doorway, forearm resting on the frame before he speaks. "hey babe, do you uh know the last place i left my hoodie?"

you look up from your phone, letting out a dramatic sigh before meeting josh's gaze. "really.. again? maybe if you took better care of your stuff, you wouldn't have to ask me every five seconds."

josh is so used to your smart mouth by now because he's awfully calm, tilting his head at you and pretending to be hurt by your little comment. "ouch. is that how you talk to your boyfriend?"

you roll your eyes at him, knowing that he was already starting to entertain the situation and enjoy it a little too much. "josh, don't piss me off.. you really don't wanna get me upset right now."

josh laughs at your pouty face, pushing off the doorframe and making his way closer to your sitting form on the bed. "oh, wouldn't i?" he teasingly ask. he really couldn't take you serious when you looked so cute trying to be all mean to him.

"you're so damn cute," he murmurs, leaning down and gently cupping your jaw in his hand. "but if you keep this up, i'm gonna have to remind you who you're talking to. alright, sweetheart?"

for a moment, the only thing you can do is stare up at him, contemplating if you should say something snarky back, and he's just waiting for the moment.. you can tell. he knows it'll happen, but you wanna try and prove him wrong.

... which is why you couldn't resist and replied with something bratty..

... which is also why you're in the current predicament of josh in between your thighs, lapping hungrily at your drooling and overstimulated cunt. this was the third time he was making you cum and no he didn't care about the way you were tugging sharply on his hair or how you whined out that it was all "too much," because you should've thought about that when he warned you the first time.

"mmh ohh fuck..!" you cried out, your voice trembling and legs threatening to close around josh's head, but his hands are moving to firmly grip your thighs, forcing them to stay open. he was purposely ignoring your cries of his name, his tongue flicking your puffy clit, humming in amusement at the way you babble out incoherent sentences.

you're moaning and drooling and josh loves how obedient you are when you're like this, how you're crying out strings of "..i'msorry-! promise i'll be good..!" and man he really wants to take your word for it, but he's gotten used to those empty promises, not even those pretty little tears could save you.

josh briefly pulls his head back, giving you false hope that he's finally giving you a break, only for him to spit directly on your clit before he's messily circling his tongue around the sensitive bud again, licking up his own saliva mixed with your arousal.

you're so out of it — eyes rolled into the back of your head, thighs trembling with the urge to cum again — you couldn't help the way you frantically started to buck your hips into his face until your cumming all over josh's mouth and chin.

"fuckfuckfuck- i'm cumming..!"

josh eagerly laps up your cum before pulling back and wiping his mouth, admiring his handiwork. he loved seeing you like this. whiny and so sensitive.. and completely not like your usual bratty self. he laughs softly to himself, impressed by how he's got you like a puddle just from eating you out, he could almost feel bad for you!

he brings his hand between your thighs to cup your overstimulated cunt, laughing when you're flinching at his touch and closing your legs around his hand. "keep 'em open, hon..." he warns softly, prying your legs back open with his free hand and pinning one of your thighs against the bed.

"mm-mm, no more..! too much.." you cry out, frustrated tears pricking the corner of your eyes that makes him fake a sympathetic pout.

"oh no.. oh no, no, no.." josh murmurs playfully, eyes softening at your vulnerable state as his fingers continue to caress your folds, coaxing moans and whines from your throat. he's so unserious, and it's absolutely infuriating. "don't tell me you're tapping out.."

and just when you think that he's finished having his fun with you, he's removing his hand — not giving you a second for a breather before he's bringing it down to land a sharp smack directly to your wet cunt, making you moan out in shock and instinctively shut your legs around his hand again.

josh tuts disapprovingly, firmly pulling your legs apart again, his amused eyes meeting your glossy ones. "close your legs again, and i'm tying you down next."

"mnh, josh—!"

"keep. them. open."

you're crying out loudly again, eyes screwing shut and body jolting softly as he continues to smack your sensitive and weeping pussy with every punctuated word.

it feels like it goes on for so long. you're trembling after each slap, struggling to be good and take what he's giving you, and josh just loved having you wrapped around his finger like this!

"that's it, sweetie... just a little more. i know you can take it." he coaxes with a few more teasing slaps before he's finally relenting and smoothing his hand over your sore skin.

by the end of it you're whimpering, chest heaving with relieved sighs as josh wipes away your stray tears. he coos at you in the most mocking way possible and gosh he just really didn't think that it was enough. he wanted to ruin you some more.

"are you gonna be good now?" josh asked, that stupid sarcasm still laced in his voice.

"m..mhm!" you frantically nod, hiccuping and whining out soft pleas as josh's gaze flicker over your tear-stained face. he stays silent for a moment, his fingers continuing to massage over your stinging and puffy folds that has you letting out soft whines. he's teasing you, letting the silence stretch for a moment longer before finally letting out a playful 'nah.'

"i don't think you're telling me the truth, hon!"

josh is nowhere near done with you! not even after hearing those soft and broken cries. if you could be bratty even after he warned you to behave, then you can handle what he gives you.

[microwavesaferat]

I'm so unexcited for the Christopher Nolan Odyssey Film.

There's so many things I'm just dreading, like as a mythology buff (admittedly, not an expert, just a bit of a special interest), I'm gonna lose it if a film guy starts mansplaining about Homeric hymns to me. Like, keep talking about how the suitors were actually doing what was right for the time and I will kick you in your shriveled nutsack.

I also saw the cast list and nearly shed a tear. They all have fucking iPhone face. I'm sorry, Tom Holland as Telemachus (potentially)???? Like, oh it's so sad your dad is missing and stuff, but did you remember to take your ozempic today? Like all the cast have iPhone face. Unless this is gonna be a weird modern retelling (which also worries me), I won't be able to imagine Zendaya as Athena (potentially) without her whipping out a Google pixel to text Zeus.

I was talking to people and we ended up making our own cast list of some of the major roles.

Cast List

Odysseus - Antonia Banderas

My mother saw him in Paddington 3 and has instructed me to include him as he is, in her words, "fit". In my opinion, someone like Liam Neeson, Mads Mikelson or Michael Fassbender. I just don't want a poorly disguised American accent. Like I get you might not get a Greek actor or even one with a similar accent, but please not a straight American accent or badly done accent.

Penelope - Michelle Yeoh

Nolan is rumoured to have cast Anne Hathaway, which I am also kind of fine with, so I'm not too worried about that. I think Michelle would be great as a cunning, loyal wife to Odysseus and I also think she could channel a great amount of contempt towards the suitors. I never find Anne Hathaway to be convincingly angry in scenes, distraught and afraid, yes, but I think Michelle could really embody that disgust Penelope has.

Athena - Cate Blanchet

I think Athena needs to be played by an older actor. I get the Gods are ageless, but she needs to give the appearance of wisdom and I think Cate Blanchet always looks like she's planning and thinking. The issue with Zendaya is not just that she has iPhone face, but she is too young. Your mind immediately says that she's too young to be that wise. It's a trait commonly associated with older people as it relates to experience, and Zendaya just doesn't look experienced.

Poiseiden - Gerard Butler

Hear me out, I think the Gods (other than Athena) should only appear in voice and not in person. For the scale of things, an actor floating in the air with cgi waves doesn't really look that menacing in the scale of things, especially compared to 50 boats. And I don't want a big cgi water monster thing either. I think the voice should carry on the waves, a shout accompanied by a crash of water, the temper rising as does the waves. I think it's more threatening to hear his voice booming as the boat is rocked, there's a fear of pissing him off more cause, if he gets much louder, you might just capsize. My mother wanted to also say, in a perfect world, it would actually be Billy Connolly, but he hasn't acted in years now due to Parkinson's. The rumour is that Nolan has cast Robert Pattinson and, while he was threatening as the Batman, I don't think it's the right kind of threatening required for the role. If he was doing this as a voice acting role, maybe, we know he has amazing range from the Boy and the Heron.

Zues - Patrick Page

Listen to Little Songbird or Hellfire and tell me he doesn't sound like Thunder. Moving on.

Circe - Nicole Kidman

Circe is a complex character and I think she needs to be portrayed that way. I don't want a young actor who beguiles older Odysseus with her youth. I need Circe to have that wisdom and experience that Penelope also has. I think it could be an interesting idea to even have them played by the same person. This all depends on how close the movie will be to the original epic anyway. My main stipulation is that she needs to remind Odysseus of Penelope.

Calypso - Lupita Nyong'o

The articles I've read actually suggest her as Circe, which I wouldn't mind either, I just wanted someone older for Circe. I think Calypso is also a complex character that must be portrayed as such. Essentially I think Lupita would be able to embody both the woman madly in love with Odysseus and also the Goddess keeping him here for her entertainment. From seeing her in Us, I know she has an amazing range and is able to show the threatening side to Calypso required. It doesn't work if it seems like Odysseus has the upper hand at any point.

Telemachus - Thomas Brodie Sangster

I really struggled here cause a lot of young actors look too modern for a lot of period pieces. It's also important that Telemachus isn't some chiseled, huge guy. I also think, given we would probably check in on him multiple times during the movie, Thomas is good at looking young and old at the same time. Another option would maybe be Joe Locke.

This post is long already so I'm not doing the rest of the characters. I have nothing against the actors Nolan has gone with, I just don't think they fit well. I'm also heavily biased from listening to Epic and Hadestown a lot.

Lmk your suggestions, as always, these are just my thoughts and a lot of them aren't even well thought out.

[strangerlsdanger]

As someone who is aroallo I find it interesting (in a negative way) that everytime a non-canonically aspec character says something that either implies or states they aren't interested in romance, a relationship, or so on people default to headcanoning them as aroace, never aroallo, or just aro, or some other aromantic identity that isn't asexual.

Like... they didn't mention sex at all? They didn't say they weren't interested in that? It's fine to headcanon them as asexual but so many of these people are saying that whatever they said means they're canonically aroace which.. no it doesn't... once again they only mentioned romance how does that make them asexual? Why are you literally equating aromantism to asexuality? Why are you saying those things can't be separate? Those things can be separate, do they know that? Do they remember aroallo people exist?

[turtlecleric]

bay!donnie x female reader, angst/hurt/comfort; technically nsfw but this is not a spicy fic

ah fuck. cws: negative thoughts? negative self-image? I... think that's all?

---

Truthfully, you should've seen this coming. Work has been hard lately. You've been feeling a little down and a lot stressed out for a while now. Tired all the time. That negative voice in your head speaking up more frequently, other people's words cutting a little deeper than usual. Amplifying the negative and brushing past the positive, letting things get to you even though you know sometimes your brain is a lying asshole.

So, really. You should've known. You should've said something. Something about how sensitive you're feeling. How normally you love a good mixture of degradation and praise but right now you really, really need him to stick with praise. You should've said something. 

But you didn't. 

The tears come suddenly. The dull ache in your chest sharpens, like a shard of glass, wedging itself between your ribs and pressing in further with every inhale. You feel like you're not getting any oxygen at all, your lungs seizing as your breaths quicken. You can't- you can't breathe. 

Just a stupid fucktoy, Donnie had called you. And normally you love that. Normally that's perfect - you've come to the sound of those words plenty of times before. But now…

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. A stupid fucktoy. That's all you're good for, isn't it? You can't do anything right except be used. But, oh, you can't even do that right, can you? Because now you're crying, and he's stopped using you. He's stopped, and you're truly useless now, and you're so so fucking stupid. 

He calls your name. Takes the gag out of your mouth. Gently wipes at the tears streaming down your cheeks and asks if he's hurt you. If he went too fast, if you weren't fully prepared. If you want him to stop. 

You can't speak, but you shake your head. 

“Dove, what is it? What's wrong?”

Nothing. Everything. You. It's just you, you're what's wrong. You're wrong and useless and stupid, and you can't breathe. 

“Hey, hey, you're okay. It's okay, here, come here, it's okay.” 

He's holding you. Cradling you to his chest as you sob like the pathetic thing that you are. When the soft cuffs that held your hands behind you are released, you can't help but cling to him and bury your face in his neck. The sounds you're making are so ugly, so whiny, and you- you hate yourself. Fuck, you're pathetic. He's murmuring sweet words, brushing a hand up and down your back, trying to soothe you. He’s kind, and gentle, and you…

You don't deserve it. 

Donnie is confused. You can tell he is, and you want to explain but at the same time you don't. It doesn't really matter, though. You wouldn't be able to make yourself speak even if you did want to. Everything is too much right now, and you still can't breathe, and you're starting to feel sick to your stomach. 

Stupid. Why are you so goddamn stupid?

You cry. And cry. And cry. Muscles stiff, face swollen, you're miserable and exhausted and fucking mortified. Donnie was feeling good. He was enjoying himself, and you ruined it with your tears. Ruined it. Stupid girl, you ruin everything. 

You try to apologize. It comes out garbled, but somehow he understands. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Dove. You've done nothing wrong.” Donnie presses a kiss to your hair, still running a hand up and down your back. Soothing, kind, gentle, he's everything. And you don't deserve him.

Time passes. Sobs turn into sniffles, which start to come farther and farther apart. When you finally go completely quiet, he's still murmuring sweet words into your hair. 

You feel sick. Tense. Nauseous and shaky and gross. Inside and out, you feel wrong. Hollowed out, scraped clean of everything except this ache in your chest that won't go away.

Stupid. So fucking stupid. 

Donnie moves, still cradling you close with one arm as he leans forward and reaches for something. A blanket is draped over you. You hadn't even realized how cold you were, but the relief is instant. Your muscles start to fully relax, and you find yourself melting into his hold even further. 

He presses another kiss into your hair. “What happened, my love?”

You swallow thickly, glad that your face is hidden in his neck. You don't want to tell him. It feels so- so stupid. For you to have reacted like that. For you to be so affected by nothing. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Nothing, nothing, that's all you are. Nothing. 

“I'm going to list some things. Just shake your head or nod for me, okay?”

After a moment, you nod against his neck. 

“Did I go too fast?”

You shake your head. 

“Did I hurt you?”

You hesitate for a moment, then shake your head. There's a stretch of silence where you swear you can hear him thinking, analyzing your hesitation.

“Was it what I said?”

You should nod, but you can't make yourself do it. There's a thick, heavy anxiety there, keeping you from confirming even though you're not sure why. Donnie understands anyway, because of course he does. He's perfect, and kind, and smart, and you're just so-

His arms tighten around you. He doesn't say that you should've told him you were feeling down. He doesn't say that you should know better, that you should know that he doesn't mean it and that it was just part of the fantasy. He doesn't say any of that, because he understands. He understands, as he always does, that what you need is for him to keep murmuring kind words into your hair. To keep gently caressing your skin, holding you like you're something precious. To combat the venomous thoughts that are holding you hostage.

He understands. 

It's okay, Dove. You're okay. Everything is alright. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, okay? You're not stupid. You're not whatever mean things your head is saying right now. You're perfect, and I love you so much. I love you so much, Dove. You're perfect just as you are, okay? My pretty girl. Right here with me, where you belong. You're so good, sweetheart, so good. I've got you. 

His words are like a balm on your soul, and you drink them up greedily. Holding onto him like he's a lifeline - because he is. He is. 

The tears come back. You can't help the ugly keens, the way your body shakes. Through it all, he holds you close and soothes you inside and out in the way only he can. 

Not stupid, Dove. Smart. Kind. Brave and capable and good. You're so good, and I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you-

You'll never understand how he does this - how he makes that feeling of wrong wrong wrong fade away. But he does. The sharp tangle in your chest is unraveling, and you're finally able to breathe and actually feel like you're getting oxygen. You're so grateful, and you're so fucking lucky, and you love him so much. By the time you start to drift, with his soft voice echoing in your ears, both you and the keratin you're resting against are warm. 

Later, when you wake, fully soothed and capable of speech once again, there will be more to talk about. But for now, Donnie holds you. Soothing you with his voice, his hands, his everything. And you finally, finally let yourself rest. 

[stellacadente]

if you ever feel stupid just think of this one store clerk i met in dublin who i was chatting with, saying i'm a tourist from italy, to which they said they once went to a concert of a spanish artist and there were many people with italian flags. then they looked at my necklace and asked "oh? that's the italian flag right?" . it's the palestinian flag ...

[smile-files]

really liking a past teacher makes me feel so stupid. like ohhh ahhh what if he stopped working at my high school and i'll never see him again??? shut upppppp

[rolandkaros]

election thoughts

calling trump voters 'dumb' is ignorant. some of these people are dumb but a lot of them are just selfish.

blaming third-party voters is ignoring the issue re: over half the country was willing to vote for trump anyway. likewise, pointing out that trump won the popular vote and that third-party votes wouldn't have made a difference is ignoring the voting system. conversations about third-party voters in general are not fruitful. some people are just going to vote third-party and expecting them to suddenly not do so is naïve. there is no scenario where third-party voters should have been the 'tie-breaker' to begin with.

a lot of people (americans and non-americans) don't understand how the electoral college system works and in general i'd advise you to do some research before you share your take. americans you should know this anyway and don't use the excuse of "i wasn't taught" if you have tumblr then you have the internet so look it up and start reading. i don't expect non-americans to know a foreign country's voting system but if you want to share an opinion please take a bit of time to learn about it before you do. i'm tired of seeing the same dialogues by people who clearly just don't understand the actual structure of the voting system.

pointing fingers at different demographics you think are to blame is useless. if you're going to find a group to blame, then blame the majority, i.e. white men and white women. otherwise your blame is completely unhelpful and misplaced.

saying she only lost because she's a woman or a poc (or both) is also misguided. its not entirely wrong but once again you are misunderstanding some fundamentals of how extremist politicians find success, and likewise are ignoring some obvious issues re: the democratic party and their campaign strategies.

equating education to intelligence to voting preferences in general is ignorant. you are forgetting how many factors go into someone actually receiving formal education. you are forgetting how many factors go into someone's state of residence. i was going to explain this further but i think no one cares so i'm not going to bother because the explanation got too long. also, see point 1. there are plenty of very smart people who vote for trump anyway.

talking about abandoning the south or red states is pointless and if i hear or see anybody suggest such measure i am automatically assuming you are a foul person. equating democratic states to morally or inherently good and republican states to morally or inherently bad is such an unbelievably superficial and foolhardy judgement and goes against all principles of unity and community that we should be fostering at a time like this.

americans ignorant to the effect that us politics has on the world need to wake up.

i don't blame non-americans for their resentment against the sphere of influence of us politics but i wish they would be less dismissive of the genuine effects this election will also have within america.

acting as though anybody doesn't have the right to be scared about the implications of this result is shortsighted at best. my concern goes beyond my own afflictions – how can you say that concern is misplaced?

i have more but i think that's it for now bc its kind of exhausting to talk about. and i guess what's done is done. idk. i'm not hopeless at all. but i'm fearing more and more than the hope i insist on having is childish. but the alternative is complete self-destruction and i have no intention of going down that road again. so childish hope it is.

[tardis--dreams]

Me panicking because i have 9 missed calls and 5 emails talking about my absence and how "a colleague could take over for me" vs. Me knowing it's really not that important no matter how pushy a client is and that on top of it I'm underpaid and have way to much overtime so i shouldn't even care

[medicinemane]

Mike johnson has so god damn much blood on his hands, obviously Ukrainian blood, but also plenty of American blood

Refusing to renew something that helps vets exposed to atomic blast and Americans who were downwind of the fall out... it's just sick. I can't fucking stand mike johnson, he's one of the worst scum to ever be in congress, and that's fucking saying something

"Johnson refused to allow House members to vote on bipartisan legislation to renew and improve the program"

Fucking quivering little pimple seems to have a real MO for just wringing his hands while insisting it's not his fault, he just can't do the one fucking part of his job of putting shit up to a vote... oh boo hoo, so sad, he'll just have to unilaterally let funding expire on things instead of literally just putting it up to our elected representatives to see if they want to vote yay or nay

Single handedly make the choices but it's not his fault when they work out how they do

Murderer

[midnightsgetawaycar]

Sorry for the upcoming rant but I really need people to stop shaming people who record any part of a concert and share it with others. A lot of people weren't able to get tickets for the era's tour, and while I'm fortunate enough to have tickets for an upcoming date, watching the first night live because of multiple amazing people who streamed it made my entire week. Those posting the different songs, are giving me the ability to hear the live versions of songs that have never been performed before, and some she's not going to play again during the tour. Some of the songs on the set list being my favourite songs. It's one thing if the person is being rude while filming, but if they're just minding their own business in the seats that they purchased and aren't bothering anyone, why are you, someone who's not even a fan so fucking bothered? So bothered, you feel the need to post about it and shame others. Stop judging others for wanting to share the joy of these songs that mean so much to people. You can enjoy a show and film it at the same time. I'm planning on recording a few of my favourite songs. The songs that have gotten me through the shit year that I've had. Like I'm sorry that I'm going to record a song that I quoted in my grandpa's eulogy. Sorry that it's going to bother you, someone who doesn't even care about her music and the connections fans have with the songs.

Honestly, let people be fucking happy, and let people decide how they want to experience something.

[helloidkwhatimdoing-0]

Actually cannot do another 4 hours of this (being at school)

[crashthegates]

the letter y has been pissing me off lately

[anothermonikan]

What is with fuckers in the rain world fandom and being such pricks all the time.

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

can't wait to get home so i can fucking EAT

[emometalhead]

.