#and stop acting like your childhood is the reason you're doing this

[theotherseapancakes]

on HL

I think the thing that bugs me the most is I keep seeing people try to both sides the HP thing, and like... okay. The author or Ruroni Kenshin is a legit convicted pedophile, not mincing words, it’s not a “cancel” thing. If you buy Kenshin merch, or watch the shows, you support him. As a child I loved that too, just like HP. NOT doing this shit is the BARE minimum. “No ethical consumption” extends to products like phones or food or whatever. We all live in late capitalist hell and a video game isn’t essential. “What if your favorite series [improbable thing] “ well glad you asked, so one time Fire Emblem Fates happened and I never purchased it for MANY reasons, the least of which being the shit that happened to the LGBT characters. Even though I love Fire Emblem. Even though it was painful. Even though I find some of the characters/plots intriguing. I genuinely don’t understand how you can ignore MULTIPLE minorities on this. The shit I’ve seen is unacceptable. IDK if this post has a point but there’s a difference between being ignorant and plugging your ears. You can’t be a centrist on this, bc being a centrist means people will still get hurt, and you’re still supporting that. Being a centrist means you do nothing, which gives the people causing problems... more power. Wowie zowie!

[astonmartinii]

careful what you wish for | alex albon social media au

pairing: alex albon x fem norris!reader

be careful what you wish for because sometimes childhood dreams come true (not the way you think though)

MASTERLIST | BROTHER'S BFF MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, landonorris and 453,096 others

yourusername: it's sweet treat hour in the paddock

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user1: oh to be a person in the f1 paddock getting a sweet treat

user2: ummm actually i think i deserve one more than any of the guys on the grid

yourusername: probably true lol

georgerussell63: BLASPHEMY

landonorris: blood is CLEARLY not thicker than water ����

maxverstappen1: i can't believe this betrayal

charles_leclerc: puppy play date is OFF

yourusername: not you people proving them right within 0.5 seconds.

user3: y/n really is god's strongest soldier these fools must be so annoying

alexalbon: not me tho

landonorris: nuh uh 😐

alexalbon: sorry to burst your bubble lando but on the scale of least annoying (me) to most annoying (carlos) ... well marketing love carlando for a reason

landonorris: Y/N TELL HIM TO STOP BEING MEAN TO ME

yourusername: i'm not your mum, defend yourself

landonorris: ???

carlossainz55: THERE IS NO WAY I'M THE MOST ANNOYING ON THE GRID? Y/N TELL HIM THAT

yourusername: keep your car away from oscar and maybe

oscarpiastri: thank you grid mum 🫶🏻

carlossainz55: grid mum clearly showing favourites 🤨 does my sleepovers at the norris household mean anything?

yourusername: your old ass does not need a grid mum be fucking for real

carlossainz55: GASP!

alexalbon: nevermind what ever the fuck that was... the sweet treats slapped, thank you very much

yourusername: see this is why you're my favourite

oscarpiastri: i am right here

logansargent: :(((((

yourusername: NOOO MY LITTLE DUCKLINGS I LOVE YOU

user4: the way y/n has taken to oscar and logan makes my heart so warm

user5: her missing a lot of the start of the 2023 season and logan saying he started to feel less lonely when she was back coming to races as she went out of her way to support him

user6: her and alex going to miami a week early and acting more like parents than logan's actual parents

user7: it's like the older drivers are her grid kids but she only goes full mama bear for oscar and logan

user8: i'm gonna need this friends to lovers arc for alex and y/n

landonorris: do you people ever shut up

yourusername: LANDO ???

landonorris: sorry you have to die single sorry i don't make the rules

f1

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63 and 1,405,788 others

tagged: alexalbon, landonorris & georgerussell63

f1: ALBON P5!!! now that's why lando had a poster of him in his childhood bedroom

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user9: i know lando forever regrets bringing that up all those years ago

user10: since we know how close alex and y/n are... i'd bet a lot of money y/n brings it up at any opportunity

yourusername: LET'S FUCKING GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

alexalbon: always knew you were my biggest fan

yourusername: it must be a norris thing

landonorris: alex the literal f1 account is making fun of me and you're SAYING SHE IS YOUR BIGGEST FAN

alexalbon: okay buddy lets calm it down

landonorris: don't put me in time out you're not my grid dad

alexalbon: am i not?

this comment has been deleted

alexalbon: i wouldn't claim you dummy

landonorris: i saw that ............. interesting

user11: the way this is the biggest hint for y/n x alex we've ever gotten but lando is not putting 2 and 2 together

yourusername: i've never had to try to keep a secret from lando i've always had to spell it out for him we're safe

landonorris: who is we?

user11: i see what you mean

georgerussell63: good lord, will i ever get out of the alex DRS train?

alexalbon: NEVER MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA

georgerussell63: have you already started drinking?

alexalbon: maybe, you know y/n can't mix drinks for shit

yourusername: P5 in a williams calls for a throwback college tequila punch

maxverstappen1: college tequila punch without me THE FAVOURITISM HAS GOTTEN OUT OF HAND

yourusername: you AND I QUOTE said "never talk to me again, i don't want to see you with any kind of receptacle that a person could drink out of, i never want to see a bottle of tequila ever again i feel like this is a hangover that will be passed on as some kind of generational curse"

maxverstappen1: now you say that i do recall saying something similar

user12: the way oscar and logan were so happy for alex, that's a grid dad for real

logansargent: we knew all of our drinks would been on his tab 🤞🏻

oscarpiastri: and he brought our kebabs!!

user13: how do i get this kind of treatment on my nights out?

logansargent: you have to third wheel alex and y/n when they're insufferably cute 👍🏻

this comment was deleted

user14: i'm on to yall

alexalbon

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 720,987 others

tagged: yourusername, logansargent & oscarpiastri

alexalbon: post night out munch with my favourites

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user15: oh i can smell the arguments coming

yourusername: no one die i'm putting my phone on do not disturb

user16: so real

georgerussell63: HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT THE SANCTITY OF OUR FRIENDSHIPS I THOUGHT WE WERE PLATONIC SOULMATES OUR LOVE FOR EACH OTHER SEWN INTO THE VERY FABRIC OF OUR BEING

alexalbon: well damn

georgerussell63: well damn? WELL DAMN? THAT'S IT YOU ARE NOT INVITED ON MY ANNUAL EASTER SUNDAY WALK AND BOUTIQUE EASTER EGG HUNT

landonorris: wow that'll really show him george

georgerussell63: LANDO WHAT THE FUCK WE NEED A UNITED FRONT

yourusername: babe this isn't trench warfare

georgerussell63: i thought you weren't getting involved this is a GALEX DISCUSSION

charles_leclerc: i thought this was a twitch quartet dicussion?

georgerussell63: maybe if you people MADE YOURSELF USEFUL IT WOULD BE

charles_leclerc: you know what i don't like your tone. i am very secure in my friendship with alex and am happy he has other thriving friendships especially with those who have recently joined the team and need the extra comfort

alexalbon: finally a normal person

user17: what is happening

user18: i think this is what the kids call losing your shit

user19: kinda feels like it's ended prematurely

alexalbon: he's at my door

user20: oh? should we like maybe be afraid?

yourusername: WHY AM I LIVING IN THE SHINING RIGHT NOW DOES HE HAVE AN AXE?

landonorris: hold on .... why are you there?

yourusername: george russell is at the door screaming for justice potentially wielding a weapon and that's what you took from that?

landonorris: ummm yes? there's something weird going on here

oscarpiastri: i'm also here

logansargent: me too (PLEASE SEND HELP)

user21: well wasn't that just ... delightful

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 903,788 others

tagged: oscarpiastri & yourusername

landonorris: this whole grid kid thins has gotten out of control why is this kid being treated better than ME in my OWN HOME

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user24: how could lando be angry look how pookie oscar is

oscarpiastri: this is what i'm sayingggggg

yourusername: so fuck me i guess

user24: babe that's alex's job

yourusername: you right

user25: HOLD ON PEOPLE IS THAT Y/N/ALEX CRUMBS ???

user26: quick add it to the spreadsheet

alexalbon: there's a spreadsheet?

user26: we don't fuck around about your hypothetical relationship with y/n

alexalbon: that much is clear (send it my way asap)

yourusername: talking about favouritism in the norris household as if i have not lived with this for MY ENTIRE LIFE

landonorris: booooooo let me complain (did you or did you not get your weird kids from my career favouritism in the family)

yourusername: don't weaponise my children against me

landonorris: but they're so annoying oscar is eating all of the ROAST POTATOES THIS IS THE NORRIS FAMILY DINNER EVERYONE KNOWS THE ROASTIES ARE MINE

oscarpiastri: not anymore :P

landonorris: choke

oscarpiastri: don't make me call my dad

landonorris: call him up i'll beat his ass at this point I CAN SEE YOU TAKING ANOTHER POTATO

oscarpiastri: @alexalbon :(

alexalbon: keep my kid's name out your fucking mouth

landonorris: excuse me?

yourusername: ugh that's so hot

landonorris: EXCUSE ME?

user27: well .... add it to the spreadsheet?

landonorris: i'm so close to blocking all of you

yourusername: i thought you loved alex :(

landonorris: not that much

alexalbon: i see....

landonorris: NO I'M SORRY I TAKE IT BACK I LOVE YOU ALEX (YOU BETTER NOT BE SHAGGING MY SISTER HYPOTHETICAL OR NOT)

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, charles_leclerc and 528,095 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: silverstone babyyyyyyyyyyyyyy i hope my home treats my boys right

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user28: i would give a kidney to be there for real

user29: you might have to the prices at that race are INSANE

landonorris: finally the home race which means you actually have to root for me

yourusername: ehhhhhhh

landonorris: girl i did not get much sleep last night wtf do you mean EHHHHH

yourusername: alex is a london boy

georgerussell63: once again fuck george i guess

yourusername: you didn't give me time !!!!

georgerussell63: were you actually going to say it?

yourusername: no ❤️

landonorris: right george i think it's time to unionise against y/n and alex

yourusername: the fuck do you (do we?) know about unionisation babe our family are the capitalist machine

user30: so like when are we getting the full albon pets meetup with sausage?

alexalbon: you always treat me right

yourusername: only the bestest for you

alexalbon: oh wow i'm blushing

yourusername: i can make you do a lot more than that

landonorris: do you mind?

yourusername: LET ME FLIRT IN PEACE GOD I CAN'T HAVE ANYTHING

alexalbon: yeah let y/n flirt with me in peace

logansargent: he's giggling and swinging his feet - we might even get a skip away

alexalbon: sue me

user31: alex and y/n being so tired of lando is so true

oscarpiastri: they match each other's freak and they really need to let that freak flag fly

logansargent: as they should i need to post some of the cute pictures of them my phone storage is suffering

landonorris: i'm throwing my phone out of the window

user32: confirmation? CONFIRMATION?

alexalbon

liked by georgerussell63, maxverstappen1 and 1,359,086 others

tagged: yourusername

alexalbon: bro my nurse is hot as fuck

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user32: bro nearly died and THIS IS WHAT HE POSTS

user33: is it insensitive for me to celebrate that they're together on a post just hours after he was in a massive crash

yourusername: probably but we'll take the compliment regardless

georgerussell63: let it be known i'm annoyed that this is how i found out about this relationship but i'm so glad you're okay and that you had your person with you as support

alexalbon: my person awwwww georgie you're such as softie, but thank you i'm all good

yourusername: i knew you loved me really georgie

georgerussell63: i'll come round to this i guess

yourusername: so no more morning visits with weapons

georgerussell63: THERE WERE NO WEAPONS

alexalbon: you called me many mean words and sometimes words are our biggest weapons

georgerussell63: shut the fuck up

yourusername: that's not very peace, love and kindness he nearly died russell change up your tone

user34: YESSSSSSSSS WE CAN FINALLY SEE THE TRUE POWER OF THE ALEX/Y/N SASS

user34: also obviously very happy alex is okay

user35: i fear we as a fandom do not have our priorities in check

landonorris: i wouldn't leave the hospital if i were you

alexalbon: is that a threat?

landonorris: very much so

maxverstappen1: he's serious i'm literally holding him back (it's not hard he's like a gremlin)

landonorris: A GREMLIN WHO HAS BEEN GIVEN WATER

yourusername: but i thought you loved alex? surely this is the least offensive option on the grid?

alexalbon: awwwwww babe

maxverstappen1: i'm really not sure thats the compliment you think...

landonorris: NO I DO LOVE ALEX BUT NOT LIKE THIS

yourusername: it could be worse, you're besties with alex - i could've gotten with carlos or pierre!

carlossainz55: excuse me?

pierregasly: what did i ever do to you?

yourusername: whores ❤️

landonorris: true they are whores

alexalbon: and i'm a big ol family man

landonorris: you keep that to yourself

oscarpiastri: get well soon dad

logansargent: we love you !!!

yourusername: don't think we've forgotten about you exposing our relationship....

alexalbon: but we love you anyway

yourusername

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tagged: alexalbon

yourusername: f1 cars are too dangerous actuallyyyyyyyyyyy you're all BANNED

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user36: finally some good fucking food

user37: i feel like we've been waiting for this relationship for so long i expect a wedding invitation at this point

alexalbon: yeah soz only the girl with the spreadsheet is getting an invite

user26: SCORE

alexalbon: well aren't we just the cutest couple in the world

yourusername: i fear we are

yourusername: and if any of you hoes try and comment any dumb shit like "us erasure" i'll break your toes

georgerussell63: oh! okay...

maxverstappen1: sure i guess so...

charles_leclerc: i'll let you have your moment for now

landonorris: i'm single but i want to be involved

user38: the lipstick print... i'm weak

user39: they already made me feel lonely before we got confirmation i think i might need to redownload hinge

landonorris: ugh i guess you guys are kind of cute

yourusername: of course we are one of us is a norris

landonorris: TRUE 💅🏻

alexalbon: ??? so you don't want to kill me anymore?

landonorris: no i guess not

landonorris: also max put a bell on my chain and my fingers are too fat to open the clasp so i can't sneak out to kick your ass

maxverstappen1: he really is an overgrown toddler

alexalbon: also your 5'2 ass is not beating mine

landonorris: i am NOT 5'2 i am 5'10 at the least

yourusername: girl you're maybe 5'5 and i WILL be getting my lick in if you fight alex - revenge for all those hair pulls all those years ago

landonorris: i'd say stop defending alex but you've always done that... i should've known

user40: so y/n really wasn't lying when she said she didn't have to hide anything from lando cause he doesn't pick up on anything 😭

landonorris: sorry i'm not actively looking for clues about my sister's sex life

alexalbon: bro i am in love with your sister lets frame this better

yourusername: hehehheheeehehhehe

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1, logansargent and 1,874,036 others

tagged: alexalbon & yourusername

landonorris: i guess i always did say that i wanted alex as a bigger brother, be careful for what you wish for kids

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user41: FINALLLLY

logansargent: you're telling me we've BEEN waiting

oscarpiastri: i kinda miss having a secret like what do i hold over lando now?

landonorris: DON'T THINK I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS YOU WILL BE DEALT WITH PIASTRI

oscapiastri: okay babe

landonorris: you really take after your mum and it scares me

yourusername: you shouldn't have such good friends that i just can't help falling in love with so really this is your fault

landonorris: sure.... but you have a good point, i'm very happy it's alex of all people

yourusername: you've really come round fast since you realised that we'll pay for your stuff whenever we go out

landonorris: what can i say stuff tastes better when it's free

alexalbon: you literally make double what y/n and i make

landonorris: and i'm the younger sibling so you should TREAT ME BETTER

user42: yeah we all knew lando was the younger sibling but he's giving massive annoying baby brother vibes

alexalbon: and he wonders why we prefer oscar and logan

landonorris: i'm just going to pretend i didn't see that

alexalbon: but for real lando, thanks for being the most annoying norris and having such a lovely and cool (and smoking hot) sister - i appreciate it!

yourusername: i love you too babe

alexalbon: don't worry you'll get to drop the last name soon

yourusername: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

yourusername: i can't wait to be mrs. albon

landonorris: blocked.

user43: i can't believe we got the conclusion to the lando alex poster storyline

landonorris: it wasn't exactly the conclusion i thought it would be but i'll take it

yourusername: you love us really

alexalbon: really you were just manifesting this for like ten years

fin.

note: here's a wee post from brother's bff before the race because i need somehtign to distract me from my horrible NERVES - ENJOY!

[caramelkoo]

be still my heart — jjk [two]

the one in which Jungkook lets his imagination run wild and you confront Jimin about your past.

genre : childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, physical therapist!reader x hockey player!jungkook, slow burn, smut, fluff, angst

word count : 5.1k

chapter warnings : strong language, kissing, jungkook is again nervous around Destiny. That's it i guess lmk if i missed anything.

a/n : ohmygod the first part got so much love i just couldn't wait to post this. This one is a bit intense. I love my babiest baby jungkook so much. Please enjoy my lovely people and remember you're so loved :> feel free to send asks. kisses.

Jungkook

During Jungkook’s college days, there was a guy named Oscar who’d sit beside him in class with his round glasses resting on his face. He would bunk classes almost every day which led the ever so curious Jungkook to follow him one day in order to find out what’s so special that he’s even willing to bunk classes for? Listen, the nerdy Jungkook thought bunking classes is bad manners. Don’t come at him.

Eventually, he found himself watching Oscar playing the guitar inside the vacant auditorium and he can swear he’s heard nothing more melodic than that. He figured the guy escaped so he could do what he loves. It was his passion.

If someone were to ask him, what’s his passion? Jungkook would say, Hockey. It pumps him up, it brings him back to life. He was born to do this.

He has seen his older brother playing hockey for as long as he can remember but trying the sport for himself? That never came to him, until his brother thought handing out a hockey stick to a 15 year old would be funny.

Newsflash, it wasn’t funny and as much as he doesn’t want to, Jungkook has no option than to give him the credit for him being here. It’s only right. The moment he held that hockey stick it was like the clouds parted and angels started singing.

This life right here is something he has built with hours and hours of practice, diet, diligence and working himself out until he’s a sweaty mess.

It’s not like every other 28 year old’s life, it’s different as well as demanding but every other 28 year old is also not being thrown into the penalty box like him right?

On a good day he would even call himself a conflict-avoidant guy until it comes to his teammates. Then, he’s an animal, ready to tear down every motherfucker who dares to touch them. Dramatic? he doesn't think so.

Yes, they piss him off but they’re a team, it’s a unified responsibility that they have. You stop at nothing to protect your own. The spark of defensiveness is bound to come to the surface given he's the defenseman of the team.

This is why he’s in here, trapped behind this glass shield as he watches the guys do their worst performance till date. The forward of the opposite team tried to get a fight started making Jungkook see red. His instincts led him to act immediately. He had to do something to put an end to it and breaking the guy’s nose seemed like a nice option.

The lions are not an easy team to play with, they’re hard hitters and show no mercy. That’s what coach has been telling them ever since they landed here. Seems like nobody listened. Fuckers.

Sweat drips from his hair as he watches the game, ears filling up with screams behind him.

“Jeon Jungkook I’ll have your babies”

“Jungkook you’re so hot it makes me insane”

“Oh god this man will be my death”

“He can slap me and I’ll thank him”

God help him. The thing is, the shitshow before him is not the only reason behind him being a mess today. Destiny has been… weird lately. At the risk of sounding like a goner, she’s not acknowledging him at all, like at all.

She used to grab the seat in front of him on the plane whenever the team flew for the games but this time she didn’t so much as look at the poor guy let alone sitting before him. Is she hurt because of last time? Did he fuck up again? This proclivity of fumbling every time he’s around her needs to be checked.

“Dude, we couldn’t have held a candle to them.” says Taehyung.

Ah yes, the guys lost the game if it wasn’t predictable enough and now the coach will have their heads on a platter ready to serve. Well, he doesn't want to do that any more than Jungkook himself does.

Jungkook gets rid of his shin pads, placing them on the bench. “Try saying that in front of coach”

“He’ll understand”

Yoongi glares at him, “The fuck he will. He’s been in our faces telling us how wild it might be over there. Who listened? Because you sure not did, Tae”

Taehyung chuckles in disbelief, propping his hands on his waist. “Dude, you’re targeting me as if I was the one breaking noses and all.”

He gives Jungkook a side eye. Oh he’s so gonna get Tae later.

“You might as well have. And as for you,” he glances at Jungkook, "I'll just hope you come back in one piece."

“Alright, cut it out” Namjoon says as he slips into his practice jersey. That’s so like him. Heading straight for practice after a big game, whether or not they win.

He’s one of the most dedicated people Jungkook has ever seen and you can’t generally get a praise out of him like this.

He blocks out their bickering and focuses on getting out of his hockey pants. A sharp pain shoots up in his knee making him cringe. That’s strange. He doesn’t remember his knee getting involved in the ruckus. Anyway, he makes a mental note of letting Destiny know about it and not repeat the same douchebaggery.

“Hey bud, you doing okay?” Namjoon asks as he’s rubbing the painful spot.

He looks up, “Yeah it’s… it’s just a slight pain. Might be a cramp for all I know”

He pats Jungkook’s shoulder in support, a kind smile plastered on his face. “I hope so and hey, don’t be picking fights like that anymore. You understand?”

Jungkook is quick to defend himself. “But that asshole–”

“I know,” he nods, “Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying. Let it be your last.”

He gives up, nodding his head. “Yeah. I’ll resist”

Namjoon is right. Jungkook did not pick a fight and he knows it. He also knows that Jungkook is always ready to come at his players’ defense, however that might be.

After all, it all boils down to a nasty fight on the rink which is nothing to be surprised about. There have been plenty of fights down here, some resulting in broken limbs and some going as far as a person on a stretcher.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Nightclubs are hands down Jungkook’s least favorite spot ever. He hates the smell, he hates the crowd and he hates how loud everything gets. If it weren’t for Yoongi, he would be at home chilling or overthinking. No one can tell.

Although, he’s not sure if he can even call that four walled room his ‘home’. It’s not home, it’s just a place he was given to stay at when he joined the federation and while he’s more than grateful for it, an empty, emotionless space where he only exists in can’t be qualified as a home.

However, he can’t stop wanting a place which is only his. A place he can share with someone he loves, wakeup next to her, cook with her, make memories with her. A home overflowing with laughter and giggles only.

Clearly, that murky ass house can never live up to that expectation not when it consists of a bathroom smaller than his fist, a bedroom which can’t fit more than 3 people at once and a kitchen he, for some reason, can’t get himself to cook in. He believes someday he’ll have that albeit the wait.

“Do you think I’m joking?” Taehyung’s voice is louder than ever before because of the surroundings. Sitting beside Namjoon as his hands fist a glass of old fashioned, he acts like he just spilled the most expensive beans.

He dramatically places one hand on his chest and turns to Jungkook, “Dude, tell him. Tell him how I got my dick pierced last week”

A chuckle leaves him, “Better yet, you can lose those pants and give him a live show”

The guys break out in fits of laughter.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen my dick already, you twat. I did it for my girlfriend alright? Was this close to tattooing her name too but didn’t,” he holds up his thumb and forefinger to show how much,

“I don’t want my guy to swell and look like I accidentally got it stuck between a door or something.”

From his peripheral vision, Jungkook spots Destiny walking up to them looking like an absolute goddess. She’s wearing a shoulder strapped bodycon dress tonight with her hair curled in such a way that it makes her face look more feminine. He has seen so much of her in those scrubs that she’s doing things to him now. Hold your damn horses, Jungkook.

The poor guy can’t so much as look at her for too long or he’ll get hard. That’s something he can’t allow himself to do right here when all his friends are gathered. They’re never gonna let him live that down.

Maybe, when he’s alone he can fuck his hand with the thoughts of her taking him into that sweet mouth she’s got a bold red lipstick look going on. His cheeks turn crimson and he fights back a smile.

“Hey, guys” she greets them as she tucks a hair strand behind her ear. A gold hoop adorning her. God, she’s trying to kill him. She's like Jungkook’s own version of heaven.

The guys all smile up at her like she just asked them to give her a foot massage. Meanwhile, her eyes never land on Jungkook.

“Jimin, can I steal you for a second?” she hesitates.

“Sure” Jimin places down his drink and stands up. He walks up to her and rests his hand at the small of her back making Jungkook’s smile drop. Nice, he's getting jealous over a kind gesture now. Next thing you know, he'll be ending anyone who dares to breathe in her direction.

Namjoon shakes his head as he follows them both with his gaze. “Am I the only one who thinks they’re fucking?”

Yoongi dissolves into laughter while Taehyung spits out his drink. Almost. Jungkook? He finds nothing funny about it but refrains himself from saying something stupid in the heat of the moment.

“There’s some tension, yes. Can’t say anything about the fucking part though” says Yoongi.

“What do you think?”

“What?”

“Do you think they’re shagging?” asks Taehyung in a hushed voice.

“I think you assholes need therapy” With that he rests his own glass of drink on the table and walks away. Their voices calling out to him become more and more faint as he goes on.

He needs to find out what is it that gave rise to this sudden change in Destiny and if he’s the reason for it. His stomach churns as soon as the thought of her having something going with Jimin crosses his mind.

The guys were joking back there and given their proclivity of joking around, he takes their statements with a grain of salt. Howbeit, he can’t help but wonder the same.

The worst thing of all is he doesn’t have any right to feel this way. She’s not his and she might never be for all he knows. So maybe this is for the best, maybe if she keeps on discounting him like this, it would be slightly easier to forget her. Right?

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Destiny

“What do you think you’re doing? This is a men's bathroom?” A guy who must be in his early twenties nearly pokes his finger in Jimin’s eyes. His gaze darts over to you as he gives you a disgusted look.

Jimin levels him with an intimidating glare, “Why don’t you mind your own damn business and we’ll be good. Yeah?”

He flashes you another appalling look, his nose flaring before he walks out. For a second you might even endorse with the guy but in your own defense, the club is buzzing with commotion and there was not a single space Jimin and you found where you both could have a proper conversation without anyone bumping into you. You spent quite the money on this dress and it'd be bummer to ruin it. It’s insane how crowded it is. So, here you are.

Jimin turns to you, his fingers still laced through yours for the sake of your safety. “I’m sorry for that”

You snatch your hand back. “No it’s totally fine. I mean it’s not usual for a guy to bring a woman in here” an awkward chuckles leaves you.

“It is”

Your smile drops, “Huh?”

“They do bring women in here. Well, let’s just say they do everything except have a talk”

Of course they do. God, this is more awkward than you imagined it would to be. You could die of embarrassment right now but if you don’t clear things up with him, it would be more humiliating to simply exist around him. You roll your shoulders back, plucking up enough courage.

“Let’s discuss the elephant in the room, shall we?”

He steps closer to you, just enough to catch you off guard but not enough to knock the breath out of your chest. There is someone else who's been doing that job lately.

“What elephant Destiny? The one about us having the best time together or how you left me the next morning? Alone and pathetic” he demands.

Well, knock me down with a feather.

Your mouth parts in shock, “I left you? You sneaked out, Jimin and you know it”

You wonder if he’s gonna come clean about that. If he’s gonna stop blaming you and take accountability for once. You guys did have the best time together and as short lived as it was, you regret nothing about that night until this point.

Now that he stands in front of you, accusing you of being so cowardly that you dared to leave him, it makes you question your own integrity.

He takes another step forward, automatically making you take one back as he searches your face. “So where were you when I woke up? Where were you when I reached my hand out and didn’t find you lying next to me, huh?” his voice barely a whisper.

Enough. You wouldn’t have bothered to stop the scream that’s begging to leave you had someone pointed a gun at your head. A gal can only take so much before she snaps.

“I WAS OUT THERE SEARCHING FOR MORNING AFTER PILLS”

The vacant bathroom echoes with your own words. The words you were holding back from saying out loud.

“I went in search of those, Jimin. Apparently, that’s what you’re supposed to do when you fuck each other and not take necessary precautions”

He stills, backing off as if you had slapped him. A heavy silence hangs in the air around you.

Jimin’s eyes flash with barely contained astonishment as he looks around trying to find words. When he doesn’t say anything, you take it as an opportunity to continue.

“You weren’t lying about us having a great time together. I accept that, we did have fun and I don’t regret it which honestly, I’m not so sure of now.”

A quick look of hurt passes through his face before he recovers.

“I was planning on staying back too oh… how badly I wanted to stay back but you have to understand that I was also at the prime of my career as a professional physical therapist. I couldn’t afford having a child, Jimin. Back then even the thought scared me. So, I left for a while, mentally promising you to come back. You were sleeping so soundly and you looked so beautiful and I didn’t want to disturb you—”

Your words come to an abrupt halt as he takes a long step towards you, backing you up against the white wall behind.

It’s not the same, your chest is not rising and falling rapidly like it did back then. Gosh, you couldn’t even speak in front of him. This time you’re immune to his eyes, his closeness and his warmth. Is this what they call healing?

“You should have” his brown eyes flash with hunger, “You should have disturbed me, Destiny. I would have woken up, ate you out, maybe fucked you again while wearing a condom, cuddled you and then accompanied you to the medical store.”

Oh fuck no, this is not happening. You’re not getting yourself back into this situation where he charms you with his mere words and leaves you cold. You deserve better than that.

You push him back with your palms on his chest, “Maybe, but I think I wouldn't have it any other way,”

You look straight into his eyes and nowhere else to make him feel how serious you are, leaving no room for uncertainty.

“Bella, my assistant, keeps saying that everything happens for a reason. It’s written up there," you point your forefinger up, "I feel the same about what went down with us. There was a reason why you left, there was a reason behind me not bothering to wake you up."

A bitter chuckle slips through your mouth, “Although, I can’t seem to grasp why the hell are you here?”

The way your heart is beating inside your chest, you might end up on a ventilator. It’s because you haven’t had much control of anything in your life, this feels particularly massive. This is one way for you to take back control, because it’s your choice and yours alone.

You try not to let the tears spill, “I asked you to spare me a few minutes just so I could talk to you about it but this isn’t how I imagined this conversation to go, Jimin. Regardless of that, I need you to do me a favor”

He holds your gaze. “What favor?”

You clear your burning throat, “I’m requesting you to please not initiate any conversation about our past with any of the guys. That could pretty much cost me my job and yours.”

He offers you a stern nod, “You have my word”

With that you turn and walk around just like you always do and always should when it’s time. Only this time, you don’t feel victorious. Instead, the feeling of utter shock rushes through your body because standing outside is the only person you had been avoiding to say the least.

You flinch. “Jungkook?”

He’s leaning back against the cold wall with his hands inside his front pockets, head hanging low. You can’t make his face out because of the darkness.

He frantically lifts up his head when he hears you calling, looking as surprised as you, “Hey, I— wait, why are you coming out of the men’s room?”

You shift on your feet, folding your hands in front of you. “What? OH !! Well, I had some business with Jimin and this felt like a nice place to.. you know”

You can’t talk for the life of you. How do you explain yourself to him without word vomiting? But then you think better of it and just shake your head.

“You know what? Never mind that. What about you? Why are you standing here like someone just broke your heart?”

No fucking way did you just say that. What is this? A bollywood movie? You immediately feel like you hit a nerve when his face falls, causing you to curse yourself.

He’s silent for a moment before he stands up straight. “You could say that”

“Wait, really?”

Yet again you’re struggling to breathe, a spark of curiosity threatening to rise up. Why do you care about his heart? He’s been all but rude to you every day since you’ve begun working by his side so why would you care if someone put his bloody heart in a blender? You have been assigned to take care of his body, what happens unrelated to that is none of your business.

Except, you do. There is a teeny tiny part of you that cares. Though, you can’t say if it’s the doctor inside of you or something else. Something which could ruin you and save you all at once.

“Who is it?” you ask in a small voice.

His eyes rank behind you and he pulls you close to him by grabbing your arm. You see a man passing by, faltering on his own under the influence of probably the sheer amount of alcohol inside him.

When you look up, you have to swallow a gasp. Jungkook’s face is so close to you, you can almost count his moles. The one under his lips is begging to be kissed and you hold yourself back from grabbing him by his jacket as you kiss the hell out of him.

Wait what?!

He looks down at you, his eyes burning with something you can’t pinpoint. It’s like a mixture of anger and adoration. Soft lips brush your temples as your heart beats out of your chest.

“It’s not safe here. Why don’t you go join Bella? If I break another nose it’ll cost me good”

You lean back, still in his arms. It would be nice if you get out of his hold. You should shove him away too exactly like you did with Jimin but for some reason, you can’t. His hold is safe, cozy. It reminds you of your grandmas cookie recipe. Warm and lovely.

“Another nose? Did you get into a fight?”

He breaks away, turning his back to you but you clutch his forearm as you hold him back before he can bolt.

“You know the PR is gonna make your life a living hell. What did you do?”

His jaw sets instinctively as he looks at you for a moment before speaking.

“Destiny, if you don’t want me kissing that sweet mouth of yours and imprint my name on it for once and for all, get the fuck out of here.” he rasps.

That's it. Flashbacks of that night and that fucking dream consume you. It doesn't help at all that he looks so dashing tonight in all black. Black leather jacket, black pants and his black boots. You're having visions you shouldn't have. They're nice. Farfetched but nice, nonetheless.

You release his hand like it will set you have you combust if you keep holding onto it for even a moment longer. You turn around, with the intent of getting out of his proximity when his voice stops you.

“Destiny”

You don’t turn around because something is telling you if you do, you will never be the same.

“My life turned into a living hell the moment you stopped looking at me”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook

Jungkook is dying. 

Figuratively, of course.

He should have taken Destiny seriously when she said that the PR is going to make his life miserable once he gets to know about the mess he had made. His phone is buzzing on the kitchen counter. He knows who it is but he doesn’t pick up.

Instead, he just waits until it stops ringing. Jungkook can see it all playing out in his head. He will be called to the PR’s office as soon as he enters the academy and the PR is gonna ask him why he did what he did, Jungkook will then tell him that he's a a man of virtue, he will ask him to repent and tell him to fuck off. Very classic. Been there, done that. 

He drops his head low, palms splayed in front of him. Calling last night chaotic would be an understatement. He said things he shouldn’t have and heard things he hoped he wouldn’t. It was not deliberate, of course. He would like to call it a spur of the moment.

Alright, he was fucking jealous. There he said it. He was jealous of Park Jimin because that man was touching who Jungkook had been longing for, he was talking to the women Jungkook had been begging to look at him once and allow him to breathe. 

When he reaches the academy, he quickly asks about Destiny’s whereabouts and goes on to find her. He thinks his knee needs to be discussed because he can’t risk not playing the next game.

He's not sure if he's prepared for the uneasiness that's about to welcome itself but– god if you’re listening, help him, he prepares himself as much as he possibly can. 

Raising his hand to make a fist, he knocks on her office door. This would be his first time inside, if she would even let him in.

“Come in” her voice reaches Jungkook. 

He takes a long deep breath and pushes the door wide open. Stepping inside he looks at her sitting in her chair with glasses resting on top of her button nose. She looks so adorable. He doesn’t think he has ever seen her with glasses on but he approves. 

“Jungkook? Is everything okay?” 

Is it? Why is she acting like everything about last night was a dream? Did I imagine it all? Jungkook wonders.

He slips his hands inside his front pockets and nods, “My knee is acting a bit weird. I wanted to get it checked. See if there’s anything serious.” 

She takes her glasses off and rises to her feet. Pointing to one of the chairs, she says, “Sit down and let me have a look”

He does what she asked as he leans back to make himself comfortable. An eerie silence surrounds them, making every inch of Jungkook's body stiff as he grips the armrests of the chair a bit tighter. He doesn’t let it appear that way of course. He’d rather die. 

When she’s satisfied, she gets down on her knees and looks up at him. The visual is lethal but not something which he hasn’t already imagined.

He's not entirely proud to say that he has had the privilege of seeing her on her knees in his dreams, in the darkness of his bathroom, in his fantasies. He's seen it all but the real sight nearly makes him blow his load.

What do you think happens to a man who witnesses a queen getting down on her knees for him? Ask Jungkook. Mentally thanking himself for not wearing the sweatpants, he prepares to answer any of her questions.

“Do you wanna tell me what caused this?” 

“There um, there was a fight back at the game. I felt a slight pain in the changing room but didn’t think much of it. Thought I’d let you know about it.” 

She smiles, “Well I’m proud of you for that minus the fighting part. I’m sure you’ll be discussing that in the PR’s office” 

As she’s examining any possible pulls or cracks, he thinks about apologizing to her about last night. To be very honest, he's tired of this awkward silence every time he's around her. Not talking is one thing, walking on eggshells around each other is another. He wants her to behave the same way she does with the rest of the boys. 

“Destiny, I needed to talk to you about something” 

She looks up again, her eyes filled with curiosity. 

“Sure. Was something else hurt during the fight?” 

“What? No. I wanted to talk about last night” 

She stiffens as her mouth forms an ‘O’ shape. Fuck, why is his heart beating so fast? Wait, is he sweating? 

Then she shrugs, talking in a casual tone. “I don’t think it’s worth talking about” 

“Why?” Jungkook can’t help but ask.

“Well,” she smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes, “You and I both were drunk and people do stupid stuff when they’re drunk so.”

“There was not a single drop of alcohol in my system. However, whatever I said was in the spur of the moment.” he says wording his previous thoughts, “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I’m sorry” 

She’s quiet for a moment before she lowers her head and mumbles something. 

“WellIhadasexdreamaboutyousoweareeveniguess”

He lowers down his own head, trying to listen clearly, ‘What was that?”

“I said I had a sex dream about you so we’re even” as soon as the words slip out of her, she claps a hand over her mouth. Her eyes wide as saucers. Meanwhile, he just sits there wondering if he heard her right or his brain is as fucked as his knee. 

His mouth goes dry as he keeps looking at her. He feels like someone just dumped a bucket full of ice water on his head. She had a sex dream about him? When? How was it? 

“It was uh okay” 

Kill him, kill him now because he said that out loud. See, this is what he means when he says he messes up every time he's in front of her. That’s exactly what the last thought that crosses his head before he pulls her by the back of her neck and smashes his lips on hers. Fuck it, he can’t take it anymore.

When she kisses him with the same amount of passion and hunger, he resists himself from hoisting her up on the table and eating her sweet cunt. She matches every movement of his lips. Hers suck his before his take her pink and pillowy ones. 

Within seconds, he has her caged in his arms. A low moan slips past her lips as she clutches onto Jungkook's shoulders for support, his fingers digging into the sides of her waist. Is this what feels like to kiss Kim Destiny? Is he actually touching and tasting her?

She tastes like cherries and bubblegum and he swears he's tasted nothing sweeter. He wants to have this taste every day on his tongue, and wants to remember it till the day he takes his last breath. Maybe, even longer than that. 

He pulls back and cups her cheek, running his thumb along her lower lip as she catches her breath. She’s got her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling against his. Jungkook can feel her hard nipples through her scrubs.

Someone shakes him by the shoulders and he snaps out, blinking rapidly. He looks around and finds himself sitting on the very chair Destiny asked him to but when a feminine voice calls out his name, it's not hers.

“Well, watching my best friend on her knees in front of my step brother was not the visual I thought I needed”

Turns out, it takes a lot to make that someone up there 'happy' because standing in front of him is his only step sister. It's hilarious how unpredictable life happens to be. After all, not only did he imagine kissing Destiny after she told him about her little sex dream but will now have to figure out how to face his sister without wanting to hurl himself out the window.

Can he catch a break?

Taglist - @keylime4eva @xumyboo @jash719 @dmstoyangyang @pitchblack0309 @withluvjm @chaelvrx @httpjeonlicious @lovingkoalaface @rpwprpwprpwprw (ilusm and thank you for reading <3)

[chocoqtelle]

inner child pac reading

🦀 pile one,,

I know we're used to being super helpful, but it's good to help yourself too. you should always make sure you're okay first. It's important for us to be okay, even if other people don't think so. we should think so. things are gonna be okay for us. they always are. I want to do the things we like. I don't understand why you care about what people think now. I think we should try doing what we like more, even if it's embarrassing. it doesn't have to take a lot of time. it's just good to have fun sometimes. maybe you can get back into some of our old interests if you want?

it seems like this pile had to mature quickly and was overly generous in childhood. this likely led to some people pleaser habits. when the world said "be nice" and "care about others" you took it to heart, but it felt like you were the only one who did. you felt like you had to be the adult in your childhood and care for other people around you. for some of you, you may have had to care for a parental/older familiar figure or your siblings. you're used to changing your words and your personality to be more digestible and gentle because this strong fear of conflict. you were scared of people being mean to you, so you avoided making anyone mad. it was like you were always tiptoeing over eggshells. now, you don't have to, so there's no point in worrying about people who don't worry about you. you'd be doing yourself and your inner child a favor by doing what you want. it might feel wrong to be yourself, but at least try. I won't delve too much into this part, but I believe some people in this pile also dealt with being oversexualized or being hyper sexual at a young age. I think it's important to know you're more than what you can give others for this pile. please also take a break for the love of god.

🐸 pile two,,

It's hard to feel loved if nobody shows you. at the same time, i don't think I'd want to be loved. it seems weird and uncomfortable. I'm not used to it so it's scary. I still wish that someone would care at least. it feels like nobody else cares. I'm really tired of things being silent and boring all the time. I want to do something fun. I want friends but I want to be by myself. people think I'm weird, but I think they're the weird ones. they can avoid me but I wouldn't wanna be friends with them anyway. it doesn't matter if it's lonely, I don't feel less lonely around people anyway. some people think I'm mean. I don't think I'm mean. i heard I look mean or I act mean sometimes, but what if that's just who I am? I don't try to be mean to people. I just don't want people to hurt me.

holy neglect trauma... there's a lot to unpack here 😓 first off, I hope you're alright. it seems like this pile never really learned how to interact with people and is probably still a bit of a people hater. this pile has had to keep strong boundaries and walls on to protect themselves from unfamiliar experiences (being spoken to positively.) if you've never experienced something, it can be scary but you have to stop thinking every little thing is gonna go wrong in your life. it's fine. separate note but I think someone's ancestors are very present here, might want to connect with them if you don't already. you can try to shut down the feelings of loneliness and pretend connection won't help but it does. you're probably not connected with your inner child or you're ashamed of yourself for some reason. trying to be cold won't undo anything or save you from the feelings you're hiding. you'll have to acknowledge them at some point. escapism and forcing ignorance wont help forever. hopefully it'll be sooner than later, but that's your choice. it's okay to be soft, btw.

🐕 pile three,,

I know what I'm talking about. I'm serious. I wish people would take me more seriously. i get good grades, I study hard, I always prove how smart I am. for some reason, people still act like I'm too young and stupid to have opinions or that what I say is just silly, especially with emotions. they act like having emotions makes you a less rational person. some people look down on me for who I am, too. it's not something I can change. whether it's gender, age, or whatever, people always want an excuse to ignore how I feel or what I have to say. I know I'm right though. I don't want us to stop expressing ourselves. I wanna share how I feel to the world.

this pile is extremely opinionated and knows how to share their emotions. this pile is for the "bossy" kids who "should have been lawyers" or "a CEO" according to every adult around them. you were emotional as a child and it was always ignored or joked off as if your feelings were invalid. this pile is definitely natural-born leaders so if you aren't/never have been aspiration-driven or "extra" this pile probably isn't yours. the most healing thing you can do for yourself at this point is speak up. continue to speak about everything. share your opinion more, it's safe now and people will actually take you seriously. be emotional, be too much, be annoying, be talkative, be over-opinionated, be everything you feel like being and don't let anyone talk you out of it. lead your life how you want to. call everything out, even if it means being weird. I definitely feel like some people in this pile had the gifted kid experience or liked to read a lot when they were younger. there's also some unresolved anger that might need to be taken care of. I think speaking up more instead of bottling feelings up will definitely help that, though. you're not stupid or weak for being emotional. just be yourself unapologetically and that's the best thing you can do for your younger self.

[thesilverdoll]

This is the chance of ten lifetimes.

Every five years, twenty breakthrough actors compete over ten weeks for the name of TVs newest obsession, the silver doll. The winner, decided by the global audience, is historically known to make it big. You auditioned on a whim alongside your best friend, and somehow the both of you have made it to the final round of auditions!

Now, all you have to do is make the final cut, get along with your celebrity mentor, remember your lines and... win—all with a camera (or ten) in your face. Don't get discouraged, you made it this far for a reason.

❖ FEATURES

› Customise yourself! Groom yourself into TVs next biggest thing—pick your style, your approach to scenes, your public image, your strengths and weaknesses as an actor. As well as your appearance, personality, gender and your plan b... if you have one.

› Establish relationships with your peers! Befriend your competitors or betray them... engage in a behind-the-scenes rendezvous or two, try and gain a more intimate look into your celebrity mentors life, try and befriend everyone on stage, or keep to yourself and focus on winning.

› Compete! Participate in different challenges throughout the show. Put your best dance shoes on for theatre week, practice your screams for horror week, hope you don't get paired with someone waspish in romance week... decide how you approach each performance, and see how your choices impact your results!

› Furthermore... interact with your fans! Viewership is your best friend in The Silver Doll, so make sure you're on top of your social media game... or you can try to play the mysterious cards and keep away from public eye as much as possible, if you think that'll work out for you. Just... be careful how much you share, there's a gossip blog following the shows BTS that seems to know a little too much.

❖ ROMANCE

*full character profiles coming soon.

- Beck Taylor; he/him or she/her, 21.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Your childhood best friend that convinced you to audition beside them. Computer science student turned dropout to pursue a life on the big screen, Beck may not have years of acting under their belt, but they do have a natural talent for the dramatics. Plus, with you by their side and their on-and-off girlfriend, Sarika, at home cheering them on, they can do anything.

Beck is tall at 6'6, black, with dark braided hair and brown eyes.

- Stirling 'Sekani' Stokes, he/him, 24.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Sekani, as he wants to be known as, is the textbook example of a nepo baby. Born to two of TVs most recognisable faces, he's grown up in the spotlight. Sekani is here to prove to the world that he has the talent to grace the big screen, despite his family name... and also to prove to himself that acting is something he actually likes doing in the first place. Yeah… he’s a bit of a mess.

Sekani is 5'10, white, with messy black hair and pale green eyes.

- Troy Allard-Rose, she/her, 23.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎An aspiring actress since she was making her barbies perform dramatic monologues at six, Troy is here to win, and she’ll be damned if she lets some amateurs stop that from happening. Acting is all Troy knows, she’s been in performing arts schools and film camps alike— this is her dream. She won’t let anyone tell her she’s not worthy of achieving it.

Troy is 5’5, white, with platinum blonde hair and dark brown eyes.

Esra Ihimaera, they/them, 27.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Esra is a member of the production crew, and your very own cameraperson. They’re in charge of doing the closed interviews, and also take care of a lot of the day-to-day filming. A little less extroverted than the celebrities surrounding them, but their sweet heart and eye for detail makes them a whole lot more interesting in other aspects.

Esra is 5’11, Māori, with short bleached hair and dark brown eyes.

Bethany Tian, she/they, 28.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎One of the best stylists on the show, Beth is in charge of your hair, makeup and wardrobe for the next ten weeks. Talkative and energetic beyond belief, Beth is hard to get rest around, but she’s good to keep morale up. She’s styled celebrities for red carpets and space-exploration scenes alike. From SFX makeup to high glamour looks, there’s nothing you can’t pull off when Beth is the one styling you.

Bethany is 5’2, Chinese, with long pink hair and black eyes.

❖ THE MENTORS

*both mentors are romanceable

- Rome Alivia, he/him, 26.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ A successful child-actor turned even more successful actor into his adulthood, Rome is a family name. Though he’s scrutinising and hard to wrench out of his working mindset, Rome hasn’t let the fame get to his head. He’s dedicated to improving his mentee’s abilities as actors rather than having a focus on winning.

Rome is 6’2, white, with brown hair and brown eyes.

- Shaan Jha, they/them, 30.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The last Silver Doll, Shaan is happy to return to the set that kickstarted their fame and fortunes five years prior. Eager to mould their best mentee into a winner, Shaan is optimistic in the best of times and downright delusional in the worst. They've proven their talents, though, and are positive it will be one of their mentees that win.

Shaan is 5'8, Indian, with long brown and blonde hair and brown eyes.

The Silver Doll is rated 18+ for depictions of drug and alcohol consumption, strong language, infidelity, and optional sexual scenes.

[theconcealedweapon]

When a child is smart and gets good grades but struggles to socialize, they're often told something like "just wait until you're an adult, you'll be rich and people will like you easily, and those people who don't like you now will be working for you".

This is shitty advice for so many reasons.

They may not actually be as smart as you think. They may just have a special interest that causes them to notice a few extra patterns while they struggle intellectually in other ways. This could put an unreasonable amount of pressure on them, causing them to become burned out.

They may be unknowingly giving people a good reason to not like them, which is very common for autistic people who struggle to understand social rules or who don't realize that what they're doing is wrong because it's exactly what's done to them. If you convince them that everyone who doesn't like them is just jealous of how smart they are, then people will still continue to dislike them just as much as before but now everyone will think they're conceited on top of it.

Their smartness won't necessarily translate into a career. Even someone who's a total genius could easily have skills that are not specific enough to be useful for a career, or can struggle to market those skills in an interview. It's also very hard to get a good paying job without experience. For those who struggle in social situations, that's extremely likely.

It's not reasonable to expect them to just sit back and tolerate being disliked for their entire childhood and however long into adulthood it takes for them to become financially successful. They may decide that it's not worth it and stop trying. They may intentionally start acting dumb because they think people will like them more.

If your prediction comes true, they'll be surrounded by gold diggers who only like them for their money. And if they have a disability that affects their social skills, they won't know when someone is taking advantage of them.

You're promoting the belief that rich people earned their riches and that underpaid employees are experiencing karma.

[sashayed]

I haven't said as much about electoral politics this year as I have in previous cycles, because I am exhausted like everyone else and have nothing new or helpful to add. That is still true, so caveat lector I guess lmao!!! Happy American Election Day Fellow Sufferers!!

I have been experiencing an internal backlash the last few years to my extremely Sorkinpilled D.C. private school upbringing -- my childhood spent as a kind of convent schoolgirl in the faith of The System Is Good If We All Participate, which of course has a uhhh let's say generously a minimal engagement with the ways in which many of us are by design shut out of participating. I don't think idealism is necessarily childish, but I think MY idealism certainly has childish qualities, an undergirding of 90s feel-goodism, of civic participation as a subtle ego stroke and of voting -- although I would never have consciously put it this way -- as a way to feel superior to people who don't vote.

Lately there has bubbled up in me a sludgy, adolescent fury at this whole stupid country that has made it very very hard to feel like I should do even the bare minimum. For these people? AMERICANS? The ones that not only want Donald Trump to be president but saw what happened the first time and were like, We love this, do it again but worse? Whatever, fuckos. "I hope you people get your dearest wish and it chews you to death slowly," I may have thought.

I have also thought: why is it so controversial to ask elected officials to stop funding a genocide? Why are we treating people who make that ask, who are watching the current administration directly fund death on a mass scale and objecting to that choice, as if they are being babies and just need to get over it? How are they supposed to get over it? Why is anybody over it?

Anyway all this means that I, a known chipper door-knocker and caller of congresspeople, have been pretty low-key this current cycle. I think that is OK. I don't want to make this a big dramatic confessional about how I didn't write enough postcards or whatever. We all get exhausted and this was my turn.

But it has also been an illuminating cycle in that it's made it clear to me how much at my big age I still want politics to make me feel good, and when they don't, I still have the urge to throw a lil tantrum about it! I can get very superior and intellectual about how right-wing operatives manipulate their voters emotionally WITHOUT EVEN NOTICING that I too have been manipulated, in my case into the feeling that nonparticipation is a kind of revolutionary act.* Just absolute "I threw it on the GROUND" logic happening inside my head. "Maybe if I don't vote I will be doing Quiet Quitting, which is uhhhhh anticapitalist." I'm not a part of your system!!!

Anyway, I am trying to have self-compassion about it, and one way for me to do that is to project my internal experience onto a theoretical reader. That would be you, my imaginary friend who clicked on this post for some reason even though you have already decided not to vote! I just want to tell you that I am more sympathetic to your point of view than I have ever been in my whole life, and I'm sorry I have historically been a glib, holier-than-thou asshole about it in ways that may actually have made you MORE resistant to civic participation.

And you're right: it doesn't make that big a difference whether I personally vote or not, or whether you do. But if there are hundreds of us, and I think there are, then each of those people individually do starts to matter.

I guess I would humbly request that you and I both pay attention to what people who need help are actually asking for. I would ask that we both notice who wins when we abdicate this single responsibility. I would remind us both that participating in the electoral process is not some kind of weird either-or with participating in decentralized community building and mutual aid, and the best people we know do both. Isn't it interesting that somehow, insidiously, without even consciously becoming aware of this belief, we have started to think that you can only do one or the other? Who is telling us that story? Who does it serve?

Anyway. I took the stupid 90 minute round trip to my polling place which was VERY hot for some reason and I stood in the stupid line and some babies waved at me and I cast my vote for Kamala Harris and I'm glad I did it in the same way I'm glad after I do the dishes or take a stupid shower. Doing work doesn't always feel like anything. I also saw a really wonderful small black and white dog that I thought was a cat on a leash. I would not have seen that dog if I hadn't gone to vote. So politics can still make you feel good!!!

*I mean all this analysis is cute and everything BUT ALSO i did switch antidepressants twice in the last year, an astonishingly grueling process that almost made me [affect the trout population]. Could these things be related? hmmmmmmm, don't understand the question, won't respond to it.

[i-yap]

Batboys x quiet! reader(who is not quiet in private)

( some of the reasons for the quietness is a bit traumatic so uhh warning)

Dick grayson -

opposites attract is possibly my favorite trope ever. And that is exactly what you guys are . Not exactly golden retriever x black cat though people who didn't know you guys well assumed such .

Dick would get exhausted spending forever being charming and charismatic for even the most extroverted of people get tired when they had to manage multiple superhero teams, a detective squad and the whole batfamily.

You were silence, peace serenity almost..until you weren't. Grayson was worried about this relationship in the start, after all you guys were really different. He was afraid you were going to be annoyed by his sunshine self, and that when he isn't feeling like talking, the conversations would go silent.

But you really are so different when comfortable with someone, and its tough not to trust and drop your shield with grayson.

It took him by surprise slowly seeing you open up and show your weird side. It somehow made him cherish it more and even want to show sides of him that only you got to see.

When he asked you why you weren't like this with everyone you said " My parents had a habit of talking over me, sometimes outrightly not hearing me speak at all. No matter how loud I spoke..i wondered if they couldn't hear me...if anyone even wanted to you" "why me then?" asked dick , "you're nothing like my parents, I know you care" and he does..he really does. He won't ever let you feel like that every again. He will make sure everything you want said is heard, and if not he will burn it into the skyline

Jason todd

he appreciated it, a quiet person in public. He hated being in public, he hated the buzz the noise the push the touch of humans around him. He felt strange

till he feels you hold his knowing you felt just as strange as him. Leave the gala and walk around the library , one earphone in each ear listening to whatever you wished to play.

Pulling you close in crowded areas- was it for you or for him? Glaring at anyone who dared tease you about your quietness. A single glare usually does the job but don't worry ...other ways exist too.

He loves that when you two are alone, you are a completely different person. It makes him feel special, like he is the only one who understands you. Because you're the only one who understands him.

When he asks " well I guess I never felt like people liked what came out of my mouth.. my humour too dark, my words too dumb and I didn't make sense. So I stopped trying" don't worry about being cringe..he understands you completely

Tim drake

he is intruiged. How do you pull such a perfect facade. How does one look so poised and collected with those rich assholes and so wild and untamed with him?

He could never really perfect the act the way you did. He's seen you grow up, but somehow its like you were born with two people living in your brain.

If you're this mysterious to your childhood lover, how does anyone in the world even think that they could know you, both versions of you.

Dont get me wrong, he loved it, A mystery he never could solve, not even with your help.

" Teach me your ways master" "I remember you wanting me to call you that last night..oh no wait it was si-" "shut upp" "fine ill tell you timmy boy, I just believe those rich stick up their ass puppets don't deserve to see all ..this.." "what about school kids, friends , teemates-" "I don't need anyone to get me as long as you do"

He will never get it, even if someone engraved it into his skin he wont understand everything about you , you'll always be the case he couldn't solve.

AND WE ARE BACK BICHES , send in requests and stuff, inbox open again blah blah I'm feeling much better now but I might push angst stuff more

[ddarker-dreams]

what would make the husband rotation genuinely mad and would they act when theyre mad?? bad vibes for everyone

upsetting chrollo is an arduous endeavor.

he values control, whether it be over himself or others. creating the troupe would've been impossible if he was easily agitated. ironically, by muting his emotions for so long, he's set himself up for failure. when they do escape the fortress he built to contain them, they're wild. their repression drained any civility chrollo pretends to have.

regarding what it takes to get to this point... a third party revealing his criminal affiliations to you would do the trick. especially if the evidence they provide is irrefutable. chrollo isn't naïve, he's always been aware of the possibility. it'd be different if your efforts unmasked his identity. sure, he wouldn't be ecstatic, but he'd feel a hint of pride over your sleuthing capabilities. he almost considers it your right, in a weird way.

this sentiment doesn't extend to another's interference. they've inserted themselves into your relationship and warped your opinion of him. it's a violation, an intrusion. chrollo comes off as unusually detached when this information reaches him. he would've preferred you confront him, so he could control the narrative and do immediate damage control. with that plan dashed, his anger will simmer, until it can scald the one who tainted your perfectly fine relationship.

gojo satoru wants to be the center of your universe.

he's selfish, he isn't content with anything less than you in your entirety. he wants to be your partner, your best friend, your rival and confidant. he's cool with your friends and family (wow thanks gojo), since he knows that ultimately, you're both close in a way few can understand. shoko tells him at point blank that he's overdependent on you. he's aware, he just doesn't care to fix it. he's shameless enough to admit it as much without remorse.

for this reason, should someone capable of exerting influence over you stumble onto the scene, he would not be happy. megumi (kid or teen) remarks that he gets this 'creepy look', like he's pretending to be human. if he released a mere tendril of the cursed energy writhing inside him, it'd be enough to render most sorcerers comatose. his vibes become that abominable.

whether it be a former mentor, childhood friend, or some other role he can't fulfill for you himself — he wants to create as much distance between them and you as possible. fortunately for him, simply being himself is enough to repel most people. gojo inserts himself into your conversations until this person catches the hint. after knowing him for so long, you've grown immune to his questionable boundary crossing. he'll keep at it until they're scared off.

scaramouche gets angry with you for making him fall in love.

had his chest cavity not been empty, he would've clawed his heart out to avoid this harrowing feeling. the timidity, the vulnerability, oh, how he loathes it; loathes you for the spell you've placed him under! this resentment is, in truth, mostly directed at himself. shouldn't he have learned his lesson by now? how many times must he be chewed up and spit out before he stops wandering into the maw of emotional connection? he resolves himself to kill this... whatever it is you both share, before he's dragged through disappointment once again. he'll work himself up into a frenzy, all righteous anger and crackling bitterness—

—then your eyes light up at the sight of him, his name a warm exclamation on your tongue. in an instant, he's pacified, like he'd undergone a lobotomy. what a lovesick fool he is. you won't even let him fester in his negativity, you keep flitting about, earning his undivided attention. it's embarrassing how giddy he is around you (though he hides it beneath snark and condescension). when the interaction ends, he's left torn on what to do. all he knows is that he's running out of excuses to make this your fault.

blade's fury could slice through stars if you were ever hurt.

his mara is voracious until he returns every ounce of your pain tenfold. it's a scene from hell; rivers of blood, shredded limbs, piles of corpses tall enough to be mistaken for towers. in the heat of battle, he occasionally forgets where he is or why he's even doing this. then, all it takes is his mind's eye flashing the image of your face contorted in pain for his mania to blaze anew. you're precious. kind, warm, bestowing care upon him that he hadn't experienced in centuries. annihilation awaited anyone or anything that threatened you. he thinks death is too good for them, but it's the punishment he delivers best.

this explosive rage isn't finite. once his sword is deprived of living prey, he's forced to endure silence. entropy. an all-pervasive thought that you'd be better off with another. he never understood why you blessed him of all people with your affection. upon wiping his weapon clean, his reflection greets him. he scarcely looks human. drenched in viscera, eyes bloodshot and crazed. is this the man you love? what would you think, if you could see him now?

he almost wishes the fury would return. it's preferable to the hollowness he now faces.

[shanastoryteller]

its something they think they grew out of <- This phrase you said about kids being hit but the parent later stops has just been rolling around of my head. Like oh thats truly how a good portion of society (myself included) just accepts happens to themselves and to others and how sometimes in tv parents go “You’re not too grown that I can’t hit you anymore” like why is this normalized

well! the short and sweet answer is that society views children not as their own persons, but as an extension of their parents, to be either coddled or abused as the parent sees fit. since the abuse stops by the time they've achieved their own personhood, it's not seen as relevant

the messier but also true answer is that children experiencing physical abuse tend to find the whole physical part of it that least upsetting bit of it. if the child doesn't care, and the parent doesn't care, then nobody else is going to care either. not to mention that time softens it even further. and by the time you've grown up enough to go "hey what the fuck was that all about" you're also so far removed from it that it feels almost childish to dig into it - because your childhood was smeared with violence, and so violence now feels like a childish thing

excepting extreme cases, the pain of abuse isn't something that lingers. bruises and bloody noses. the marks of a perfectly healthy childhood even, except yours isn't from tumbling from the jungle gym or schoolyard battles, but because an adult decided to put their hands on you, to teach a lesson that if you forgot then your skin would remember

the part that hurts is that they wanted to hurt you. the thing that lingers is the stress of not knowing the next time they'd hurt you. what gnaws at you is that you are so small and your parents are your whole world and all you want is them to love you. so you justify it. you excuse you it, you ignore it, perhaps you even start to act out, so that the next time you're bruised and bloody you at least feel like you earned it (if you earn it then it's not their fault, then it's not because there's something wrong with them - a fact that if true is terrifying because there's nothing you can do about it - but with you, the one person you can control)

the pain isn't actually the problem. often, the pain is a relief

if it's something you can grow out of, that's a good thing. because it means their disdain and lack of care and the thought that you're not being loved right is something you can outgrow, something you can leave behind in childhood, and that's what you want

but the truth of it is that if your parents don't love you properly as a child, they won't love you properly as an adult

the reason people often think of it as something that can be outgrown is that they're desperate for it to be something they can outgrow

the reason parents physically harming their child is so damaging isn't because it causes them pain, although of course that's bad. it's because it breaks their heart

[verstarppen]

summary; the relationship isn't as secretive as you think it is.

pairing; logan sargeant x fem! reader [ no faceclaim ]

a/n; gm everyone, god has let me live another day and i'm about to make it everyone's problem; this one's for my logan girlies you deserve it 🫶

liked by georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 2,001 others

ynusername It's hyyyyydromatic

view all 317 comments

georgerussell63 A little late out and about, aren't we?

ynusername sorry mom

typicallyleclerc who is this girl and why are all the drivers following her??

goosestappen childhood friend of oscar and logan's

alex_albon that's not the lights out and away we go he's supposed to be doing

ynusername girl who is "he" is "he" in the room with us rn

liked by alex_albon, williamsracing, logansargeant and 8,140 others

ynusername williams sweep <3 thank you for keeping me around like a kicked dog in need of a shelter during a thunderstorm <3

view all 2,679 comments

williamsracing Oddly specific 🤨

ynusername i love you, underpaid gen z admin &lt;3

oscarpiastri Banned from Mclaren.

ynusername let me in let me innnn

logansargeant Only one photo of me??

oscarpiastri Any reason why there should be more? ynusername i'm an alex girlie logansargeant But I'm oscarpiastri Finish the sentence, Logan.

alex_albon LET'S GOOO

ynusername sorry for being obsessed with you, it will happen again alex_albon thank you but your boyfriend is whining beside me ynusername idk who you're talking about what boyfriend what's a boyfriend never heard of that word in my life idk who this man is

liked by williamsracing, ynusername, oscarpiastri and 87,960 others

logansargeant Beach date! 😎

view all 10,909 comments

oscarpiastri And who are we dating, exactly?

logansargeant Oh you wouldn't know her, she goes to another school

redbullpapaya holy shit i'm watching a rookie soft launch what a time to be alive

applenorizz "liked by ynusername" okay

ynusername oscar is this your burner account

nandogoat GF REVEAL WHEN

lionkingseb this is so y/n coded

osc_pastry oh my god i thought people on twitter were joking THIS IS SO CUTE

liked by landonorris, fernandoalo_oficial, georgerussell63 and 35,291 others

ynusername party rockers in the house tonight

view all 2,827 comments

georgerussell63 One year closer to becoming a wine aunt

ynusername 🥹 nicest thing you've ever said to me georgie

oscarpiastri it's "party rock is"

landonorris I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU 🗣️

ynusername BUT I'M FEELING 22 🗣️🗣️

fernandoalo_oficial Happy Birthday!

ynusername Thank you grandpa ily 🫶🥰

logansargeant Nowhere in sight. Again.☹️

alex_albon probably because you two were gone for half the party? oscarpiastri Suspiciously. ynusername ACCUSATIONS. FALSE ACCUSATIONS.

liked by arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 13,211 others

ynusername since we're talking about not being included in your significant other's posts how about the fact that i'm always behind the camera?????

view all 4,546 comments

oscarpiastri Someone has to be skilled enough to get my good angles

logansargeant You are my entire camera roll??

ynusername POST THEM

georgerussell63 Thank god, we can all stop pretending it wasn't painfully obvious you two are dating

alex_albon you haven't seen what i've seen, my child

bbglewis DID THEY JUST CONFIRM THEY'RE DATING??

pierrette OH

mcmango your what now's posts

albon_goated quick everyone act surprised

liked by landonorris, liamlawson30, logansargeant and 10,924 others

ynusername proud to announce i hit that

view all 6,242 comments

landonorris thanks i didn't need to know that keep that shit to yourself

ynusername you love us, actually

logansargeant Oh, I'm on every slide? Generous.

ynusername 🙄 sleeping on the couch tonight

pic credits: instagram and pinterest

[ardensregias]

SEEING AVENTURINE IN THE LIVESTREAM MADE ME THINK ABOUT MEMOKEEPER! READER WITH HIM :o

I mean since he have such a tragic past, it would be very interesting to see someone who can look into his memories as a Sigonian

I'm so happy you like him too (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠) hope I'm not troubling you

not at all :3 this will contains some leaks and fanarts i've seen about his past! may not be 100% accurate. also memokeepers can choose who they want to be visible to, but i'm not sure about the fortune telling part. this still looks bad despite being in my draft for days goddamn.

the first time he met you was when you're passing by ipc's pier point, only to spot an exhausted aventurine splayed on his million-credit couch.

since memokeepers are able to become invisible, you curiously approach his room, intrigued by his wealth. and out of kindness, you carefully moved him into his bed, before finding his 'aventurine' stone—which indicates his importance to the corporation.

your growing curiosity led you to pry into his past, watching all the hardships and suffering he had to go through during his childhood, which was supposed to be filled with joy and laughter. instead, you watch as they place thick and heavy chains around his neck and wrists, left him with little to no food, marked his neck with the word 'slave', and force the poor boy to work tirelessly. scene after scene plays out like a film, as a proof of just how cruel the ipc can be.

you stopped looking into his memories, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. you would never guess that this easygoing and arrogant man hides such a past.

eventually, you start following him around—watching him gamble, standing in the corner when he sleeps, even sneaking into the ipc's annual meeting just to make sure he's safe. you find him fascinating, the way he can acts so haughty while having experienced so many things he should never have gone through.

until one day, aventurine's guts tell him to catch this strange, mysterious creature that has been stalking him. but you're so hard to catch, so hard that he has to pretend to sleep to make you lower your guard and make yourself visible.

"snooping around again, little memokeeper?" he chuckles the moment you turn around in surprise. you do want to show yourself to him, but not this early! and when you tried to escape, he caught your hand just before you could teleport, pulling you closer, "since you already know so much about me, i can't possibly let you roam freely anymore,"

so now you live with a rich senior manager of the largest corporation in the cosmos, always stuck to his side—aventurine wouldn't like it if you were to use the knowledge about his past for something that'll ruin his business!

he spoils you, of course—while ignoring the weird look he gets from his subordinates and acquaintances when they saw him talking to the air. so you take care of him in return! comforting him when he has a bad day and making sure he did not forget his meals.

this is a memokeeper's love language me thinks: you also create light cones of the moments when he's the happiest—which are usually when you're around, and you bring them to the garden of recollection to make sure you have something to remember him when the fated day comes. aventurine also keeps some of these rectangle objects in his room, and he probably gaze at the pictures when you're away collecting memories.

bonus: imagine aventurine asking you to reveal his luck for today before he went to gamble, to which you refuse, since memokeepers cannot use their powers for self-indulgent reasons—congrats, now you have earned yourself a pouty aven!

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART TWO

You can read part one here. i'm so grateful for the positive response for this on the first chapter, thank you so much for sharing your thoughts!! Things are already getting smutty, enjoy 💕 and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip. summary: you're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you. (no outbreak, no use of y/n) rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, dirty old man joel, corruption (but it's consensual), praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader's family are very catholic), fingering, masturbation word count: 8.1k ao3

You're relieved the next morning when you look out your bedroom window and see your father's police car and your mother's SUV missing from the driveway. They've both already left for work, which means no twenty questions to answer when you go downstairs, no grilling you about what exactly you're going to be doing today. But it's not like you'd tell them the truth anyway.

You pick your outfit very carefully, shoving modest sweaters and long dresses aside as you search for something specific for Mr. Miller. You want him to look at you again like he did yesterday; the thought makes your thighs clench together again as you dig through the depths of your closet. You settle on an old Sunday School dress that you probably haven't worn since you had your final growth spurt, baby blue and simple. You undress and tug it over yourself, trying to ignore the way it tightens uncomfortably around your chest; it's much too small but you're running out of options.

"That's sexy, right?" you ask your silent bedroom, peering in the mirror at yourself. You were much shorter when you wore the dress last; now the hem settles on your upper thighs, leaving your legs completely exposed. It hugs your curves and accentuates your breasts, cleavage pushed up against the neckline so much that it feels like they could pop out at any moment.

You pick up a discarded pink hoodie and zip it on over the dress, hiding where you're practically bulging out of the material. Maybe you'll take it off later, but for now you don't need any of your neighbors reporting to your parents that they saw you walking down the street half naked.

You spend way too long getting ready, changing things about your hair and makeup over and over until you know you can't put off leaving anymore. You grab a quick bowl of cereal and then, with a resigned look of determination, you swap your flip flops with sneakers and head out into the hot summer day.

Not too many people are outside yet; parents have already left for work, kids are still sleeping, dogs have already been walked. You make it to Mr. Miller's without having to say an awkward hello to anybody, for which you're grateful.

He's not sitting on the step when you get there and for some reason it stops you in your tracks, leaving you standing at the end of his walkway like you had yesterday.

What if he's at work, you dumbass?

You hadn't factored in the possibility that he wouldn't be home. You'd had this ridiculous notion that maybe he'd be waiting for you, watching both sides of the street until you appeared and batted your eyelashes and asked him if you could still take him up on his offer. You'd visualized the whole thing. Like a teenager.

Just knock. Just knock and if he's not there, go home and try again later.

You still haven't moved from the end of his walk when the front door suddenly opens. Your eyes widen in surprise as he appears on his front step in all his disheveled glory, putting his hand across his face to block the sun; he's barefoot, wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a band you don't recognize on the front, and his hair is sticking up in different directions like he's just woken up. He brings a blue coffee mug up to his lips and takes a sip, eyes on you when he brings it back down, giving you a wry smile.

"Good mornin', babygirl," he says with that deep and slightly rough voice, leaning against the door frame, "Was hopin' you'd come back."

You blink a few times, brain whirring and stuttering helplessly as you stare at him. He's so handsome, so much older and rugged and sexy. You feel your panties get wet again and you can't even be mad at yourself; you're too distracted by the gorgeous man in front of you, looking directly at you, calling you babygirl. He's probably older than your father and yet you can't find a single bone in your body that cares in the slightest.

"Hi." you say softly, almost a squeak.

He smiles a bit wider, "Changed your mind, huh?"

You nod quickly, not knowing what else to say. He glances down at your dress and without thinking you shakily grab the zipper on your hoodie, tugging it down and showing him the full thing. You watch with bated breath as his eyes trail to your chest, looking openly and unapologetically at your breasts. He chuckles to himself and looks at your face again, taking another sip of coffee.

"I was hoping... um..." you bite your lip, trying to find the words, "I, uh-"

"Just come on in, darlin'," he interjects, laughing lightly again, "Don't hurt yourself." He moves back from the door a bit, gesturing for you to come inside.

You don't need telling twice. You put your head down, trying not to show him how nervous you are as you walk up his patio steps and slide past him into his house. You can practically hear your parents' voices in your head: "Don't talk to strangers. Don't go into a stranger's house." You're rebelling in more ways than one today.

"That's a pretty dress," he says behind you once you're inside, and you hear him shut the door. No going back now.

"Thank you." you turn to look at him, feeling out of place standing in the house of a man you don't know. You're just in time to see him looking at your body again and your skin heats once more.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" he asks with a crooked smile, charming and natural. You tell him and he just smiles wider, tilts his head to the side, "That's pretty."

"Thank you," you say again, "Um, what's yours?"

"I'm Joel," he puts his hand out for you to take, "Joel Miller. Surprised you didn't ask your momma about me."

You take it and feel your knees go slightly weak at his firm grip, big hand dwarfing yours in size, "I - uh, I did. But she just called you Mr. Miller."

He smirks at that, squeezing your hand in his, "You wanna call me Mr. Miller too? You can."

"Um," you're not sure what to say, biting down on your lip again and feeling flustered when he doesn't release your hand, "Uh..."

"You're a shy one, aren't you?" he asks, voice going a bit soft, soothing, "It's alright, darlin'. I don't mean to make you nervous."

"I'm not." you say it too quickly and you both know it's bullshit. He drops your hand and you turn your attention to the room in front of you, an open concept living space with a kitchen on the opposite side; it's nice, although you're surprised someone is living alone in such a big house.

"So do you, uh...do you have a wife?" you figure you should probably get that out of the way first; you're already planning on sinning in one way today, you don't need to add adultery to the list.

"No, just me." he walks past you and gestures for you to follow him. You do, walking to the kitchen and watching him take a glass down from the cupboard and start filling it with water. You stand there awkwardly, smoothing your dress down a bit and looking around the room.

You're so fucking nervous. You don't even know what he's got on his mind, let alone whether or not you're ready to do it. You imagine he'll lead you up to his bedroom, maybe turn the lights off and close the curtains...light a candle? Put on some music? You hope he'll be gentle and slow, that he'll listen to you. You know from your college friends that most men your age aren't really good at setting the mood, knowing how to do things the right way. Maybe because Mr. Miller - Joel - is older... it'll be better?

"Here, sweetheart, breathe," he hands you the glass of water and you take it with trembling fingers, "You don't need to be scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you," you reiterate, shaking your head and taking a sip.

"Right. Just like you weren't scared yesterday?"

You frown and put the water back down on the counter, "I- I wasn't scared."

He chuckles, leaning against the kitchen island and tilting his head again as he looks at you, "Well darlin', I might've gone back in my house but I saw you from the window. You practically sprinted down the street," he smirks at the memory, "Seemed scared to me."

"I wasn't scared. I'm not scared." You're not sure you're telling him or telling yourself.

"You sure? You're all flustered" he murmurs, and suddenly he's reaching up to hold your chin between his fingers, turning your head toward him. Your lips part in surprise, trembling beneath his touch as his thumb strokes gently against your jaw. You feel your face get even hotter.

He smirks at your response, eyes casting up and down your face quickly before he releases your chin and grabs the glass of water from where you'd laid it back down, turning to pour the rest of it down the sink. While his back is turned you fight to regain your composure, willing all the blood to disperse from your face.

"Well, no time like the present," he says, turning back around and walking past you out of the kitchen, "Guitar's in the living room."

You stare after him, brow furrowing in confusion, "What?"

"You still wanna learn that song, don't you?" he calls behind him, picking up his guitar from where it's leaning against the wall. He sits down on the couch and gestures with his neck for you to come over, smug smile still plain as day on his face.

You slowly make your way over to him, heart pounding in your chest. You seat yourself beside him on the couch, close enough that he can show you his guitar but not close enough that you're touching him. You may want him to touch you desperately but that doesn't change the fact that you're still freaking out right now. Because what does he want? You'd genuinely thought he'd meant something different yesterday with that comment about your fingers. He'd been flirting, hadn't he? Or is that just his nature?

"It's a simple chord progression," Mr. Miller - Joel - immediately begins to demonstrate. He strums on the strings, aligning his fingers carefully at the neck of the guitar and angling it in such a way that you can see what he's doing, "We start with an A and then go into G major pretty quickly."

You watch his fingers, long and almost delicate now as he presses his fingertips to the strings, holds them down as he starts to thumb out a tune. Your lips part unconsciously, eyes trained fully on the tender way he caresses the strings, coaxes beautiful sounds out of the guitar with minimal effort.

"Then D," he murmurs, and you notice that his eyes are also directed at his fingers, making sure he's showing you correctly, like he actually cares that he does it right, "And E into F sharp."

It's not like he's speaking another language - you know basic music theory from simply going to school all your life - but you don't fully understand how the notes and chords he's talking about translate into his fingers, into the shapes they make, where they push down. You know nothing about playing guitar and he's only a few moments away from realizing that; you can't help but already feel humiliated. Why the fuck had you lied to him yesterday? What are you even doing here?

"It pretty much repeats like that the whole way through," he says, starting the song over and strumming a bit slower, showing you his chord changes more purposefully, "But as I said yesterday there's lot's of room for some adlibbin' here and there, doesn't have to be by the book."

You feel yourself nod, although you still have no idea what he's talking about. He suddenly stops his movements on the guitar, directing his eyes back to you. You swallow down the nervous lump in your throat once again, willing yourself to look back.

"Wanna give it a try?" he asks, and without waiting for your answer he hands you the guitar. You take it from him with wide eyes, your own hands fitting into place where his had been only seconds ago, still warm; it makes you shiver.

"Um," you look down at the guitar, trying to shape your fingers in a similar way to what he'd done. Your nose scrunches up in concentration and confusion.

"Starts with A," Joel says, and you look up from the guitar to see him smiling softly at you, urging you to play him something.

Your fingers stay frozen on the guitar, tongue darting out to wet your lips. You can feel anxiety burning in the pit of your stomach.

"Okay, now I'm scared," you admit, voice shaky and small.

He doesn't say anything; you look up again and see him peering at you thoughtfully, brow furrowed. You hope he's figuring it out internally so you don't have to say it out loud, admit what a fraud you are.

"...You don't know how to play, do you?" he asks finally.

You bite your lip and hang your head in shame, grip loosening on the guitar, "No. I'm sorry."

To your surprise he laughs, deep and genuine. You lift your head back up to see him settle back in the couch a bit, shaking his head as he grins at you. You can't help but feel yourself smile back at him.

"You're adorable," he says with a sincerity that puts your tummy in knots, your gaze averting his once again, "I mean it, I can't even be mad 'cause you're so sweet, darlin'."

"M'not," you mumble, slightly embarrassed as you hand the guitar back to him and shake your head, "I'm a liar."

He takes it from you, "Why'd you lie? Coulda said you didn't play, I wouldn't have judged you for it."

You shrug, still not looking at him, "I don't know, I..." you sigh, biting your lip, "I wanted... I wanted you to think..." You don't finish but you're pretty sure he understands, aware of him nodding slowly in your peripheral vision.

"You're sweet," he repeats, voice softer this time, "So sweet, babygirl."

You shiver again at the pet name, finally bringing yourself to look at him again. He's still looking at you, dark eyes boring into your skin, lips turned up into that wry smile again.

"C'mere," he says, even softer, and you watch as he open his legs, moves back a bit on the couch and pats the empty spot in front of him. You stare, breath hitching at the realization that he wants you to sit there, "I wanna show you somethin'," he urges, "I won't bite, promise."

With shaky legs you reposition yourself on the couch, getting up and sitting back down between his wide legs. As soon as you're seated he brings the guitar down into your lap and sits up a bit, pushes his chest against your back as his arms wrap around your nervous form, holding the guitar in front of you.

"Watch my fingers," he says quietly, and you find that his voice is speaking directly into your left ear, breath warm and welcome against your skin. You have no choice but to obey, not that you'd even want to make any other choice.

He curves his fingers along the neck of the guitar again, pushing down the strings in a few different places and holding it there. He strums firmly, the back of the guitar pushing lightly into your belly with the tension.

"That's a C chord," he murmurs, strumming again, "See where my fingers are?"

"Yeah," you reply, barely a whisper; your mouth has gone dry.

"You hold your fingers as hard as you can against the strings," he continues, "It hurts at first, when you're learning, but the longer you play the more you build up calluses. You know what calluses are?"

You shake your head, unable to speak, too lost in the warmth of his breath against the nape of your neck, the masculine smell of him tingling your nose. He pulls his hand back from the strings and brings it up near your face, showing you his fingers.

"These are calluses," he explains, referring to the deep grooves embedded in the tips of his fingers, "They help you hold the strings down easier so it doesn't hurt."

You stare at his fingers, getting lost in their length and size, their girth. You feel yourself becoming wet in your underwear, clenching around nothing at the thought of one of those calluses touching you down there where you need it most. Your breath hitches again, thighs rubbing together involuntarily.

"Lemme show you," he murmurs, and to your surprise he suddenly takes your left hand in his and brings it to the neck of the guitar. You watch with bated breath as he carefully positions your fingers over the correct strings, holds them there with his own, "Play that."

With your shaky right hand you thumb the strings at the base of the guitar, a clear chord ringing out into the open room. Your eyebrows raise in surprise and he laughs again, charming and soft.

"There you go," he says softly, "First chord. Good girl."

The words send another pulsating wave of wetness into your underwear and you tremble beneath his touch, feeling your brows furrow in pleasure at the feeling of him being so close to you while you feel like this. Your hips buck up a bit but you feel too good to be embarrassed.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asks you gently, voice still close to your ear, "You're all flustered again, babygirl."

You hum, closing your eyes tight for a moment and trying to breathe, but all you can smell is him. All you can feel is him. You swallow tightly when you feel his touch ghost against your thigh, eyes opening to see him press his palm wide against your bare skin. You watch with parted lips as his thumb strokes the skin just below the hem of your dress, eyes hazy when he pushes himself against you from behind a bit tighter.

"Why'd you really come here, sweetheart?" he breathes, almost a whisper, "Tell me the truth."

You take a deep and shaky breath and feel yourself leaning back into him, eyes closing again as he slowly strokes your thigh, "You know why," you whisper.

He hums in response, nosing your ear gently and breathing you in, left hand still holding yours tightly against the neck of the guitar, "I do," he murmurs. You feel as he presses a wet kiss against your earlobe, beard rough against your skin. Your eyes roll back when he takes it into his mouth, sucks gently on it while he squeezes your thigh.

You're in heaven, completely at his mercy as you fall back further against him between his legs, your own going lax and loose the more he touches you. No one has ever done this to you, put their mouth on any part of you that wasn't your lips, put their hands anywhere near where you're currently aching to be touched. You watch as Joel's fingers inch upwards along your thigh, slipping past the hem of your dress. You already know where he wants to put his fingers next.

"I'm a virgin," you squeak without warning, panic suddenly brewing in your stomach. His hand freezes on your thigh and he pulls back from your ear. Why the fuck did you say that?

Now he'll be a gentleman, he'll take you off his lap and tell you to leave, tell you he can't be the one to take your virginity. You've seen this in movies, read it in books, heard it firsthand from your friends in college. Men don't like the responsibility of being your first, don't like the idea of a girl getting attached to them. And Joel... he's a grown man and you're just a twenty one year old Catholic mess with way too much baggage. There's absolutely no way he'll want to touch you now.

"Let's put this down," he whispers, and carefully helps you move the guitar off your lap and place it to the side. Here it comes, he's gonna tell you to get up and go home. You wait for him to inevitably push you from the couch, awkwardly stand up and lead you to the front door.

But that doesn't happen. Instead, you watch with wide and confused eyes as he suddenly puts both hands on your bare thighs, squeezing them gently beneath his wide palms, "You ever been touched like this, darlin'?" he asks you quietly.

You shake your head, "N-no."

His thumbs stroke your skin softly, tenderly. You feel as he sits up a bit more and tightens his legs around you, holding you in place, "You like the way that feels?"

"Yes," you whisper, soft and secret, "Feels good."

"That's good, it's s'posed to," Joel murmurs, nosing your ear again, "Now let's pull up this pretty dress a little bit," the words send a shock to your system, eyes widening in surprise. He doesn't wait for you to help, just immediately goes for the hem of your dress and hikes it up your legs, exposing more of your bare thighs and a hint of your panties, blue and lacy to match your dress, "Oh, you're just a pretty little thing aren't you?" he breathes, voice hot against your ear, "You really never been touched?"

"Never," you repeat, and he just hums and presses a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, making your breath hitch, "Th-that doesn't bother you?"

"Not at all, sweetheart," he breathes, tightening his grip on your thighs; the feeling of his large palms on your flesh makes you whimper slightly, looking down at where he's holding you and shivering, "Makes me want you more than I already do."

Your pussy is throbbing in your panties and you're sure there must be a stain through your dress, through the couch. You rub your thighs together and whimper again, head falling back against Joel's shoulder. You feel him kiss your hair, watch as his hands slide up your thighs so his fingertips are just slightly touching the edges of your underwear.

"You're all wet, aren't you?" he asks softly, soothingly, "Been sittin' here soaking my couch this whole time, huh? Want me to touch you so bad, don't you, babygirl?"

You hear yourself make a strange noise through your teeth, a hnnng sound that makes him chuckle, "You like that, don't you? You like bein' my babygirl?"

"I do," you whisper.

"That's good," he murmurs, "That's real good, babygirl." His thumbs hook into your panties then, tugging gently, "Now let's take these off," he says, beginning to slide them down, "so I can take a look at this pretty little pussy you've been savin' just for me."

You both watch as your panties slip down your bare legs with ease, dress still hiding your pussy from him entirely. It's impossible not to notice the enormous dark spot in the fabric, glistening in the sunlight. You can't help but feel embarrassed.

"Oh, baby," he groans, fisting them in his hand and thumbing the dark spot tightly, "So wet."

"Why does that happen?" you ask, swallowing around the anxious lump in your throat, knowing you're just advertising your inexperience even more by asking.

"Means you're turned on, sweet girl" he explains, thumb still pressed firmly against the wet spot as he presses another wet kiss to your ear, sloppier this time, "I'm turnin' you on."

"You are," you agree shakily, "It happened last night too, after..."

"After?"

"After I dreamed about you."

He smiles against your skin, dropping the panties to the floor and bringing his hand back down to your thigh; his thumb is wet and sticky against your skin, "You're a naughty little thing, aren't you? Did you touch yourself? Make yourself come thinkin' about me?"

"No," you shake your head, "I haven't... I've never..."

He groans in understanding, but not in an irritated or angry way. It's arousal, you can tell by the way his legs tighten around your trembling form, pulling you in closer. He pulls up the hem of your dress and exposes your wet and aching pussy to the both of you, lips bare and soft against his couch. You hear his breath hitch behind you when it comes into view.

"Fuck," he says, voice low and rough with arousal, "Look at you."

He barely hesitates, reaching down and thumbing your outer lips with both hands, his other fingers splaying against your inner thighs. You squirm at the feeling, brows scrunching together when he gently pinches your soft lips and sucks your earlobe back into his mouth.

"So soft, babygirl," he whispers, releasing it with a wet pop, "Look at that." You don't think he's actually telling you to look, more-so talking to himself as he caresses the outer part of your pussy gently, "So pretty."

"I-um... I shaved it," you whisper, "Just in case."

"Babygirl, you didn't need to do that," he noses your ear and you feel his breath, hot and sticky against your skin, "Woulda been pretty either way."

You feel your cheeks warm, "My roommates said most guys don't like-"

"Am I most guys?" he whispers, and continues to stroke your pussy lips up and down with his thumbs, "You know how old I am, babygirl?"

"N-no." His touch is becoming too much, too distracting. It feels good to have him touching you like this but it's still not where you need him to touch you, the slick part inside that's absolutely aching for his fingers feeling desperately wetter.

"Why don't you take a guess, see how accurate you are."

"Um," you barely understand what he's even talking about, eyes trained on where he's stroking you, "F-fourty?"

He laughs immediately, "Now we both know that's not your real guess, sweetheart."

You bite your lip, watching his thumbs, "Well... I don't wanna... I don't wanna hurt your feelings."

He smiles, "You're sweet. But I don't care, darlin', gimme your real guess."

You sigh shakily, "Fifty."

"Close," he breathes, and you watch with a whimper as he begins to drag his thumbs up and down your wet slit, lips too puffy to show him what's beyond, "That's real close, bit higher."

Higher? Fuck.

"Fifty...three?"

He dips the tip of his thumbs ever so slightly inside your slit, then brings them out again and pushes your own wetness across your outer lips, making your skin glisten, "Higher."

"F-fifty five?"

"Fifty six," he finally says, still thumbing your juices all along your pussy. You're not sure how to respond, surprised by the number but also desperately turned on, waiting for him to finally slip inside where you're begging him to touch, "That make you uncomfortable?" he asks after a moment of silence, and you swear you hear a bit of hesitance in his question as his hands freeze, waiting for you to reply before he goes any further.

"No," you reply, shaking your head slowly, thoughtfully, "It doesn't."

"You're sure?" he asks quietly, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice, "Because I can stop, sweetheart. Just say the word, I'll let you go home."

You shake your head again, more frantically this time at the thought of him releasing you from his embrace, "I promise, Mr. Miller," you whisper, then quickly correct yourself, "Joel."

"You can call me Mr. Miller, babygirl," he whispers, and you watch with hooded eyes as he slowly pulls your swollen lips apart, exposing the innermost parts of yourself to his living room. Your mouth pops open in surprise, eyes widening at how wet and sticky you are, a big drop of your own wetness pushing past your aching hole and dribbling out onto his hand.

"Gonna take care of this perfect untouched pussy, I swear," he groans, rough and low in your ear, pinching your outer lips again as his gaze bores into your sopping cunt, "Gonna make her feel so good."

--

With wobbly legs Joel had helped you up from the couch, chuckling when you'd tripped up almost immediately. With sure and steady hands he'd straightened you up, carefully removed your hoodie and discarded it on the couch, "Won't need this," he'd said softly, "Let's go get in my bed, sweetheart."

Now he holds you on the edge of his bed, inside a bedroom that feels cozy and masculine, that smells like him. His bed wasn't made when he'd lead you inside but other than that he has a clean bedroom, small and comfortable. He now has you sitting in his lap with your legs wide, hooked over his own while you both face the full length mirror on the wall.

"W-what are we doing?" you ask breathlessly, feeling slightly embarrassed at your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks are still hot, hair messy and dress falling off, positively debauched and certainly no longer the good little Catholic girl your parents raised. You watch as Joel fingers the hem of your dress again and slowly pulls it up, exposing your dripping pussy to the mirror and to the both of you.

"Wanna show you what I'm doing," Joel murmurs, coaxing your legs even wider and pulling apart your swollen lips once again, showing you the untouched part of yourself you've never seen before, "How else are you gonna learn if you can't see, babygirl?"

You nod slowly, watching as he spreads you wide. You bring your eyes up to his face in the mirror to see the way he's watching you. His eyes are dark and lustful, hair still tousled from the early morning, scruff thick and scratchy against your neck and shoulder. He follows your gaze and peers into your eyes in the mirror, pulls you wider; you squirm a bit and close your eyes, feeling slightly embarrassed at the sight.

"You're shy, arent you?" he whispers, a smile in his voice.

"I've just... I've never..." you shake your head, opening your eyes again to turn and look at him, forgetting about the mirror for a moment, "No one's ever looked at me like this before."

He smiles softly at you, somehow tender and fond despite the part of him that clearly wants to devour you, corrupt you. He takes one hand and brings it to your chin, tilts your face up to his and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, gentle and soft. You kiss him back, eyes closing as you slowly breathe him in, feel his beard rub tantalizingly against your cheek.

"You've done that before, haven't you?" he asks you once he pulls away, finger still on your chin as he looks deep into your eyes, "You've been kissed?"

You nod but bite your lip, "Yes, but...not like that."

He tilts his head, "Like what?"

"Like they really want me," you whisper, eyes falling to his lips and silently wishing he'll do it again, "Like they're not holding back."

Almost like he can read your mind, he leans forward and presses his lips to yours once again, this time gently easing his tongue inside your mouth. You take it openly, loving the way he pushes it against yours, smooth and wet. He tastes like coffee; it's pleasant and warm and you're so distracted by the kiss that you don't realize he's taken his hand from your chin and moved it back to your pussy, carefully sliding his index finger beyond your lips and stroking upward.

Your hips buck immediately, still kissing him hard and loving the way he doesn't pull back, doesn't slow things down or even speed things up, just keeps it to your comfort level, lets you decide what the kiss is. You moan against his mouth when you feel the callus on the tip of his index rub lightly against a particularly sensitive spot. It's only then that you feel you need to pull away for breath, leaving your forehead pressed against his and letting out a long exhale.

"You really needed that, didn't you?" he murmurs softly, calm and gentle, "My babygirl needs to be touched so bad, doesn't she?"

You nod frantically, opening your eyes again, "Please, Mr. Miller," you breathe shakily, "Please make me feel good."

He groans again, closes his eyes and pushes himself up into you; you can suddenly feel something very hard beneath your dress and you're not entirely uneducated; you know exactly what it is. Out of curiosity you grind down a bit on him and he presses his lips to your neck again, humming against the skin.

"That's my cock, you know that right?" he breathes, "You ever felt a cock, sweetheart? Even through someone's clothes?"

You shake your head, feeling that familiar nervousness in the pit of your stomach at the thought. He must sense your uneasiness because he immediately pulls himself up a bit, pushes you forward so you're not seated directly on top of the hard shape of him anymore.

"Don't worry about that, today's lesson is about you," he says soothingly, stroking your pussy again and making you tremble, "I'm gonna teach you how to come, okay?"

You inhale shakily, feeling slightly relieved; it's not that you don't want to see his cock - God knows you really do - but you're so inexperienced, you really have no idea what you're doing. You feel excited - and kind of touched, in a way - that Joel is going out of his way to teach you exactly what you've been missing, things you've only heard about. Today's lesson....it repeats in your mind as you watch him touch you in the mirror, thumbing your lips wide; does that mean there'll be more?

"Okay, babygirl, here's what we're gonna do," he murmurs, breaking you away from your thoughts. "See this lil' nub right here?" You nod, peering in the mirror at the tiny hooded bump Joel is lightly prodding, sending a buzzing electricity throughout your body, "That's your clit, she's the most sensitive part of your pussy."

"I knew that," you breathe "I think."

He smiles at your reply, "You're gonna touch your clit, that's all you're gonna do. Just touch it and rub it until you feel yourself gettin' close," he moves his hand up to palm your stomach, "You'll feel it right here, in your belly. You'll know it's comin'."

"Okay," you whisper, nodding again.

"When you feel it buildin' in there, you tell me, and I'll make you come."

"And coming...that means..." you wince at your stupidity, "That's an orgasm, right?"

"Yes, darlin'," he murmurs; his face is suddenly blocked by your face as he kisses the back of your neck but you swear you can hear him smile, "That's an orgasm. I'm gonna give you your first orgasm, that sound good?"

"Yes," it's almost a squeak, desperate and shaky. You watch in the mirror as Joel takes your right hand and carefully brings it to your pussy, extends your index finger alongside his own and gently presses down, "Oh," you whimper, hips bucking again, "Oh."

"You're okay," he reminds you softly, prodding your finger harder against yourself, "It's just like the guitar, you gotta be firm."

It feels incredible, both yours and Joel's fingers tapping the tiny bundle of nerves with a steadiness you know is only possible because of him. Without his guidance you probably would have already dropped your hand, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"And now you rub," he explains softly, thumb and pinky curling around your other fingers as he holds your index steady, rubs it back and forth against your clit. Your mouth pops open, eyes going hazy again as you watch his movements in the mirror, "There you go," he whispers, and you catch him watching your expression, the pure bliss in your eyes as he makes you feel something you've never felt before, "Good girl, sweetheart, that's it."

"Oh my God," you breathe, aware that you probably shouldn't be taking the Lord's name in vain at a moment like this, but somehow the act feels almost godly in itself, a sensation of pure pleasure that you've never felt before travelling all throughout your body, "It feels- oh my God."

"Tell me," Joel breathes behind you, still holding your hand and letting you slowly start to rub yourself on your own, taking the lead, "Tell me how it feels, baby."

"It's- it's so good," you whine, tossing your head back against his shoulder, "Mr. Miller," you shake your head frantically, "I feel it already, Mr. Miller, in my stomach."

He seems genuinely surprised at that, eyebrows raising in the mirror, "Okay, babygirl," he whispers, "Lemme make you come."

He removes your hand, places it on your thigh. Without any hesitation you bring it up to grip his arm, holding it tightly as he brings his own hand back down to your pussy and starts to rub your clit again, this time at his own pace. Your jaw drops, eyes rolling back as he stimulates you perfectly, finger stroking back and forth at a pace that sends a wet squelching sound throughout the quiet room. You can't even feel embarrassed, too overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being touched.

You can't see the mirror anymore, head tilted back so far against Joel's body that you're just staring at his ceiling, mouth open wide as numerous loud and completely uncharacteristic sounds blare from your mouth, long and high and indiscernible.

"That's it," he groans in your ear, a deep rumble that urges you on as he continues to rub you furiously, "There you go, there you go. Fuck, babygirl, give it to me. Fuckin' give it to me."

His words send you over the edge and you feel yourself stiffen in his lap, legs shaking uncontrollably as you writhe within his grasp. He slows his movements, coaxes you through it, continues to whisper praises in your ear as you have your very first orgasm in his arms. Your chest is heaving with exertion as you cry out, tears stinging your eyes.

"Mr. Miller," you whimper, closing your eyes and letting him hold you tight, your grip loosening on his arm, "Mr. Miller." It's like a prayer, the way his name rolls off your tongue. Not even an hour has passed since you first stepped foot in his house and you're already prepared to make Joel Miller your new God, kneel before him and give thanks for everything he's just done for you.

"Shhh," he coos, removing his fingers and letting you relax into his embrace, "You're alright, I've got you."

You continue to whimper and shake, vaguely aware of him slowly beginning to lay flat against the edge of the bed, taking you with him. You lay on top of him, breathing heavily.

"So good," you whisper, voice positively wrecked from what he's just done, "Felt so good."

"I know," he murmurs back, kissing your hair again and wrapping his arms around your middle, "I know, baby."

"M'gonna fall asleep," it's barely a whisper now, quiet and relaxed, "Sorry." You don't last long enough to hear what he says in response.

--

You wake a bit later, confused for a moment when you open your eyes and are greeted by an unfamiliar ceiling. It's only when you look down at yourself and see Joel's duvet wrapped around you that it comes flooding back. You smile unconsciously, inhaling his scent and turning to bury your nose in his pillow. Everything smells like him now, including you.

You glance over at the clock on his bedside table: 12:04PM. You slept for a solid two hours. It doesn't surprise you, not after the shitty sleep you had last night and the absolutely ridiculous orgasm he gave you right before you drifted off, but still....two hours? And he didn't wake you?

You sit up slowly, squinting at the afternoon sun flooding through the blinds on his window. You swear you can hear some faint music coming from somewhere, a stereo nearby? A car passing? Then, your eyebrows shoot up as you fling yourself out of bed and run to the window, opening it up and peering down at the patio below.

Joel is sitting on his front step again, wearing different clothes now; he must have showered after you'd fallen asleep...probably took care of himself as well. The thought makes you shiver but you push it away, instead focusing on the lovely sounds emanating from his guitar, a slow and gentle tune that instantly relaxes you.

You pull back from the window and face the mirror nearby, assessing yourself. You're still the same person you were a few hours ago but something is different; your hair is a mess, makeup smudged, dress disheveled. With a bit of hesitance you slowly pull up the hem and expose yourself, eyeing yourself down there where Joel had touched you. You find that it doesn't make you as nervous to look at it now, unable to help the small smile that appears on your face when you remember the way Joel had worshipped it mere hours ago.

The memory of Joel has you leaving his bedroom quickly, descending the stairs in his house and walking into the open living space once again. You spot your hoodie on the couch and grab it, zipping it back on as you search for your panties; they're nowhere to be found. Your brow furrows as you pull up a few of the couch cushions but come up emptyhanded.

You smooth your dress down; it's long enough that it doesn't show you're not wearing underwear, but you'll probably have to hold it down when you walk home. The last thing you want is to expose yourself to one of your elderly neighbors.

You take a few deep breaths and walk to the front door, readying yourself to face the man who just gave you the best experience of your life. As soon as you open it he turns on the step, still playing his relaxing tune and looking you up and down.

"Hi," you breathe, a little shy, playing with your hands a bit as you walk toward him.

"Hi, babygirl," he says with a kind smile, nodding to you, "Sleep good?"

"Yeah," you reply, shuffling over and settling down beside him on the step, "Sorry, I didn't mean to sleep for so long."

He smiles again, tilts his head, "You can sleep in my bed as long as you want, darlin'. Any time."

You feel your skin burn, looking down at your bare knees and biting your lip. He keeps playing the song, humming to himself as he does it; it's not a tune you recognize but that doesn't matter, just listening to him play is enough to make you feel warm and fuzzy.

There it is, you think to yourself, the attachment. It's already starting.

You look up at him again, smiling fondly at his look of concentration as he strums steadily. Your gaze falls to his fingers on the neck of the guitar and you swallow, remembering all too well where exactly they've been. The song finishes on a long and sweet note, positive and lovely. You can't help but playfully clap for him, grinning when he rolls his eyes and lays the guitar behind him.

"What song was that?" you ask, eyes bright as he peers over at you.

"Aha, Take on Me," he replies with a smirk, "Never heard that one?"

You shake your head.

"Wow, you really are just a kid, aren't you?" he murmurs, giving you another once-over before he turns back to look at the street, still pretty empty. Your brow furrows at his words, suddenly unsure.

"Is that...does that bother you?" you ask hesitantly.

He turns back to you and immediately shakes his head, "Not at all, sweetheart. Just means I have a lot more to teach you."

Your skin tingles at that and you feel yourself throb uncomfortably against his wooden step. You look down at yourself, making a face.

"What is it?"

"I'm already..." you shake your head, feeling embarrassed, "It's... I'm wet again."

"Jesus," he groans, almost laughing as he tilts his head back and looks over at you with a wide grin, "Don't say that to me, babygirl. Not when you gotta head home."

You look at him, confused, "I do?"

He nods, frowning slightly, "Your momma drove down the street about ten minutes ago, figure she'll probably be wonderin' where you are."

You sigh exasperatedly, rolling your eyes, "I'm so sick of living with my parents. I can't wait to go back to college."

"Poor baby," he says softly, "C'mere." He pats his knee and you go to sit on it but freeze, assessing the street.

"What if someone sees?" you ask quietly, unsure.

He seems to think for a second, then nods and takes your hand. He helps you stand up and leads you quickly into the foyer of his house again, shutting the door and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

"Mmmm," he hums into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, "You smell so sweet, darlin'."

"I smell like you," you whisper back, unable to hold back your grin, "I smell like...sex."

He holds you tighter and pulls back to look at you, tilting your chin up and leaning down to kiss your lips. It's soft and unhurried; he still tastes like coffee, bittersweet and delicious,

"You come back here any time you want, okay?" he murmurs against your lips, "I mean it, any time. But especially when that pussy's wet and achin' for me. I'll give her what she needs, babygirl."

You shiver and lean up to capture his mouth again, nodding through the kiss and whispering, "I will, Mr. Miller."

--

You walk home quickly, holding your dress down and feeling more rebellious than you've ever felt in your life whenever the warm summer breeze ruffles past the fabric and onto your bare pussy, reminding you that you're not wearing any panties. They're lost somewhere in Joel's house; the thought gives you butterflies.

Your mother is bustling around in the kitchen when you get home, putting away groceries. She's distracted enough that she doesn't notice when you slip past the kitchen and head upstairs to change your clothes.

After showering - something you desperately didn't want to do but had to - you change into a more modest outfit and retreat back down the stairs, walking into the kitchen so your mom knows you're back.

"Oh, where were you?" she asks, chopping up a carrot on a cutting board in front of her, barely looking up, "Did you meet up with Bethany? Alice?"

Oh shit, you hadn't thought of a cover story, "Uh, yeah, met up with both of them."

"Lovely," she replies with a smile, finishing chopping and turning to look at you, "And they're well?"

"Yep," you nod, hopefully not too much, "I, uh, might be helping out at the soup kitchen soon."

Your mother claps her hands together and walks toward you, "Oh, I'm so happy to hear that," she suddenly furrows her brow, looking at your face with slight confusion, "Are you alright, dear?"

"O-oh, just... just warm from my shower."

She smiles and nods, turning away from you again, "Could you help me chop some veggies? I'm making soup tonight, might be good practice for when you're volunteering."

"Yeah, sure. No problem."

You reach up and touch your face one last time, feeling the heat still etched beneath your skin that you know for a fact is certainly not from your shower. You take one last steadying breath, then walk forward to help your mother.

You come back here any time you want, Joel's voice echoes in the back of your mind. You start to wonder how long you'll be able to last, but you already know the answer.

[hxney-lemcn]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Confused — Twilight Princess! Link x gn! reader

summery: you find your life turning monotonous without your childhood friend around, but when he comes back you find yourself conflicted. thankfully, he has his ways of making you feel better.

tw: mentions of getting hurt (not described tho), hurt/comfort, linked universe.

a/n: ALWEHFDLKGJ I LOVE LINK!!!! Finally wrote for him!!! Words kept getting put down I couldn't stop myself. Also, heavily inspired by @maple-the-awesome's The Chain Meets You, His Partner but also vastly different lol (so go read that too if you haven't).

wc: 3.6k

Master List

Trying to ignore the sweat that dripped down your brow, you continued to watch Talon hack and swing at the dummy that was set just outside of Link’s treehouse. He had left, again, on a dangerous mission that you had little to no information about. Once again left in the dark. So you didn’t think he’d mind if you used his equipment for training. You're being filled with sorrow for multiple reasons, but the main one at the moment was for Talon, who felt the need to learn how to fight to protect the village. A task that  you had failed at. Something that ate at not only you, but Rusl, Colin’s own father. It ate at you for a different reason than Rusl, as not only had you failed at protecting the other children, but you had failed Link, who had set out and brought them back. A task that shouldn’t have fallen onto his shoulders solely, but became his burden to bear as both you and Rusl were too hurt to travel, let alone fight. 

You had cried when he came back (much to your embarrassment). Cried happily that he returned. Then cried solemnly when he had told you about how he not only saved the children of Ordon, but had saved all of Hyrule. Cried for just how quickly he had to grow in the few months of his travels, how he found solace with someone that wasn’t you (you knew that was selfish, but you just couldn’t help it). If the villagers had thought you and Link were close before, they were surprised that you had managed to become closer. You never left his side, always trying to do chores before he had the chance. Link needed time to rest, but you knew he would refuse to…so you had to force him somehow.

That felt like forever ago as he once again found himself placed with an even heavier burden than before. Traveling through different dimensions to kill some sort of shadow beast. You weren’t one hundred percent on the details as Link as rushidly explained that he was leaving and he wasn’t sure for how long. That had been months ago, and you found yourself taking over his role in the village. You were the ranch hand now, as well as the defender since Rusl was needed at home to help take care of his newborn. Which led you to this moment, teaching Talon how to defend himself. He was still young, so he had time to learn of the best stances, strikes, defenses, and more. And even if you weren’t as great as Link when it came to a fight, but you were still pretty darn good, which is why Talon asked you. 

You were brought out of your reverie when Talon let out an excited cheer, jumping up and down as he pointed out the broken pumpkin that once acted as the dummy’s head. With a small smile, you congratulated the young boy, telling him to go take a break and play with the other kids. To your satisfaction he did just that, running off into the village as you let out a sigh. You didn’t mind the kids, in fact, half the village were kids. No, you just weren’t as close to them as Link or Ilia were, but they didn’t seem to mind your awkwardness. Just as you were about to make your own way into the village for your much needed break, you were caught off guard as you were brought into an embrace. Panicking, you went to elbow whoever decided it would be a smart idea to catch you off guard, only to be swung around in a circle. You grasped onto the strong arms that held you by your waist, turning your head only to see your greatest cause of stress for the past few months. 

A mix of emotions washed over you as Link set you down, letting you turn to face him fully. Happy once more to see the man you loved, relieved to see that he was not only alive, but no visible injuries, and a bit annoyed. Annoyed that he just pops back in and acts like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just left you alone again, like he hadn’t just left for a mission that could’ve left him dead in a world he was unfamiliar with. Where you would’ve never known of his status, if he was alive or dead, left to forever ponder the fate of your childhood friend. In the end, your relief won, staring into his azure eyes that shone with pure adoration and happiness. 

“You’re back already?” You whispered, like if you spoke any louder he’d shatter before you and you’d wake from a dream. He nodded, always one who expressed himself with his actions instead of words. “To stay?” You clarified, and that was when your heart dropped. His smile fell, and his gaze drifted away from you. 

Yet he still refused to let you go, if anything he pulled you in closer as he spoke in a similar hushed whisper, “Came here to restock our supplies.” Before you could ask what he meant by ‘our’, you heard multiple footsteps approach, causing you to pull away from Link much to his dismay. Each time he was pulled away from you he felt like he was missing a part of himself. He almost downright refused to leave you when he came back from saving the forest temple and saw you laying battered and bruised in your bed. Your despondent attitude had caused him great heartache, unable to stay and lift your spirits as he had to clear the twilight from the rest of Hyrule. Instead, he kissed your battered and bruised skin that day hoping that his love and adoration for you would seep through your skin and reach your bruised soul. Instead, it seemed his affection had done the opposite, and as you littered his own face with kisses of your own, he could feel the regret, self hatred, and sadness drenched in each and every peck. You had given him the most soul crushing look as he exited your room to continue his journey. He knew at that moment you blame yourself for the children being taken, for not being able to come and help him on his journey.

And just when everything seemed to go back to as normal as life could get, it got uprooted once more. That sorrow filled your eyes once more when he brought up leaving soon. Once more, he longed to stay by your side as your hand cupped his cheek, stating that he shouldn’t have the world rest upon his shoulders again, how it wasn’t fair he couldn’t just live his life like any other hylian. Deep down Link knew you were right, and as he met the Links from the other dimensions, he knew it was unfair that they also had to bear similar burdens. Yet at the same time it was a solace that he met others who were dealt similar hands as him. So when it was time to go back to his dimension, where you would be there to greet him, Link had been overcome with eagerness, wanting to see you once more, talk of his adventures, and give you a few items he deemed you’d enjoy. He completely forgot it wasn’t to stay, and when your loving expression turned sour he felt his heart drop. 

Before he could try to cheer you, the rest of his group had finally caught up, causing you to stare at the multiple blond men who wore green tunics. You blinked rapidly, wondering if you had hit your head to cause such a sight, because it almost seemed like many Links of different variations stood before you. 

“So this was why you were running so fast,” One of them huffed, the only major difference was the scarf he wore around his neck. An awkward air settled around you all, and you found yourself itching for a reason to excuse yourself. You’re sure anyone Link would travel with was nice, but you always had a harder time getting to know new people. 

“Everyone, meet my friend,” Link gestured to you, a warm smile lining his lips once more. Then he introduced you to each individual. Apparently they were all Link, just from their own times/dimensions. It was honestly hard to wrap your head around the whole situation, but they all went by unusual names to clarify who was who. Your Link being called Twilight (or Twi) due to the darkness your land had fallen to years ago. 

“It’s nice to meet you all,” You smiled politely, hoping to not come off as awkward as you felt. “Unfortunately I have to go help Fado with the ranch now.”

“I can–” Before your Link could offer to help, you sent him a sharp glare that quickly shut him up. 

“You need to rest,” You scolded, and as your gaze fell onto the others you clarified. “You all need some rest. You should stay for the night at least, Link—Twi has room in his house to fit you all.”

“But–”

“No buts,” You shook your head, already starting to walk towards the village, the argument ending before it could even begin. You could hear some chuckles from the group, but you paid no regard. 

To clear your mind from everything that just happened moments prior, you found yourself cleaning the goats stalls at Fado’s ranch. Clearing and refilling their food and water troughs, shoveling out their poop, stacking hay bales that will be used the next day, then preparing to herd all the goats back into the barn. A routine you had grown accustomed to in Link's absence. This was his job…had been his job, but it was yours in the meantime. It unsettled you how well the village could do in the absence of Link, how no one dared to utter his name. Or perhaps they thought the topic would upset you…they wouldn’t be wrong in that regard. 

Just as the sun started to set, you closed the doors to the barn, ready to head back to your home and prepare a warm bath to rid yourself of the grim accumulated from a day of hard work. Of course things could never be so easy. Link stood by the gate, watching you close up. As you approached the blond hero, those tumultuous feelings from earlier rose once more, unsure if you could handle any more emotional encounters. 

“Come,” Link waved at you, nodding towards the village. “Wild made dinner.” You planted your feet, ceasing your movements as you felt your eyebrows furrow. On one hand, you felt like you were being unfair to Link's companions, but on the other, you felt completely exhausted both mentally and physically. Waking up before the sun rises and falling asleep long after it sets does one to someone's body. Not to mention the constant work that was piled onto you, from working on the ranch to training Talon, you hadn’t had much time to yourself, and you weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. And when Link sensed that you stopped, turning around to face you, you're sure the bags under your eyes, slouched posture, and how you could barely keep your eyes open screamed everything you felt. The bone deep ache that just wouldn’t go away. 

Still, he grabbed your hand. His calloused palm slotted in perfectly with your own. As he pulled you past everyone’s house, stopping in front of his own you almost gave in, too tired to fight back. Instead he quickly went in and came out with two bowls of what you assume is stew. You quickly grabbed the bowls before he could spill them on his climb down. Once more, he grabbed his bowl, then your hand, and pulled you towards the spring.

The crystal water lapped at your feet after you pulled your boots and socks off, curling your toes in the pristine sand. Both you and Link sat in silence as you ate, the starry sky peaking through the trees that swayed with the small breeze. Slowly, you found your body unwinding, each tense muscle coming loose with each small wave of the spring. The stew was good as well, filling your stomach with something other than the basics you had been forcing yourself to eat. You scowled into your bowl when you realized you were feeling better than you had in a long time, and that always seemed to be when Link was by your side. 

Like he could sense your thoughts, he scooted closer to you, arm to arm, nearly thigh to thigh. Lifting your gaze, you were met with his worried one. His eyes searched your face like he was deciphering a language only he could…and in a sense maybe that was true. With a full belly and an exhausted body and mind, your eyes started to droop and you leaned against the blonde next to you. No matter what, he was still Link, still your childhood friend that you grew up with, and you’d always cherish him. 

“I missed you,” He muttered, gently brushing away any hair that managed to fall onto your face.

“I missed you too,” You mumbled back, the warmth of his body inviting you into a peaceful sleep. A comforting silence had fallen over you both, making it harder for your struggle to stay awake.

“I love you,” Was all your mind could barely comprehend before you fell unconscious. 

When you awoke the next morning, you half expected to be by the spring with a sleeping Link by your side. But to your disappointment you were in your room. Of course, being the gentleman he is, he carried you home and even tucked you in. You’d have half the mind to be embarrassed, but this was Link we’re talking about. You both had done and said more embarrassing things around each other than you’d like to admit. And when you opened the curtains you nearly had a heart attack realizing you were late as the sun had already risen a good amount. You shuffled around the room and put on your clothes, trying to ignore the thought that Link had undressed you for your comfort the previous night. Stumbling into your last boot, you ran as fast as you could, ignoring your rumbling stomach in favor of not getting scolded. (Not that Fado would actually scold you, if anything he’d be thanking Ordona for letting you rest a bit). 

Arriving at the ranch, apologies lining your tongue, you felt your mouth drop at the sight of all the Links already at work. The smallest Link, Wind, if you remember correctly, dropped his crate at the sight of you and ran over. You winced, hoping that the crate didn’t contain eggs or glass, but got sidetrack as the young boy smiled brightly at you, asking a ton of questions right out of the gate. 

“Good morning! Did Twi go out with you last night? What did y’all do? He seemed pretty happy when he came back. How did you both meet? Are you both–” Wind was quickly cut off as an older Link approached with a stern look. 

“Wind, you know better than to toss crates around,” Time scolded. “And don’t overwhelm the young one with too many questions. Now go and finish stacking those crates.” With a pout, the kid gave you one last look before dashing back to his previous task, leaving you and the older male alone. Helplessly, you watched all the chores you typically get done ten times faster than you’ve ever seen, feeling unsure what to do without work. Seeming to sense your cluelessness, Time spoke up once more, mentioning that Twilight had stayed behind at his house. And so, you found yourself wandering over, only to pout this time. Link was watching Talon’s new skills with the sword, all the village kids watching them both. 

Beth had spotted you first, shouting your name and waving at you with a giant smile, “Look! Link’s back and he’s gonna spar with Talon!” “Spar?” You repeated as you blinked. Talon was in no way shape or form ready to spar yet, but Link had a sparkle in his eye that only spelled mischief when your gazes met. Talon was jumping up and down, excited to not only see Link again, but to do something you had been holding off on. With a resigned sigh, you only shook your head, letting out a short ‘okay.’ The two got into a fighting stance, and you had to fight the itch to correct Talon’s incorrect posture. Instead, you continued to watch from the sidelines as Link let Talon start with the first strike. The skill difference was obvious, and it was clear that Link was going easy, but in the end, Talon ended up knocked to the ground. And as you expected, Talon complained, waving off his own mistakes and pinning it onto someone or something else. To your surprise, instead of asking for a rematch, Talon ran off with his friends following shortly after. 

Bumping your shoulder slightly, Link drew your attention back to him, a boyish smile resting on his lips. After all this time, all the hardships he went through, he still managed to have a young air around him. You weren’t sure how he did it. You reciprocated the gesture, bumping into his shoulder slightly harder. 

“I don’t know what to do,” You couldn’t help but confess. “All the work is getting done and I feel like I should be doing something.” Link looked up with a hum, tapping his chin in thought for a few seconds. That cunning grin once again settled on his face before he grabbed your hand and sprinted towards the springs. 

“The springs, again?” You asked with a short laugh. “Didn’t we do this last night?” You felt your skin prickle as he sent you a devious look, picking you up like you were nothing and tossing you into the water. Thankfully, he threw you into the deeper part, or else that fall would’ve surely hurt. Wiping the water from your eyes, you sent the man your best glare you could muster, grabbing the front of his tunic and pulling him in further. In retaliation, he sent a wave of water at your face with a chuckle. With a huff, you tried to do the same, but the wave wasn’t as big as you’d like it to have been and you both laughed. You felt the darkness that had enveloped your heart slowly melt away as both you and Link played like you used to when merely children. Something you had missed dearly in the past few years. 

As your playful fight slowed, you couldn’t stop yourself from watching Link, or how the water fell from his hair and dripped back into the spring. The last three words he muttered last night rung back through your head. All the love and adoration you held for him gathered into a pool, ready to spill past your lips, and who were you to fight that? Not you, you thought as you eyed his lovely smile, one you would die for. 

“I love you,” You stated, heart beating wildly as Link turned to face you. At first he looked at you with shock, but that melted into pure warmth and affection as he waded closer. So close that you felt your body warm at the mere thought of his touch, felt your heart quiver in anticipation for his next move, and stomach flutter with all the love you held. 

It was silly. When you were younger, you recalled that you’d pretend to be his spouse and play house. How you stated you’d both get married someday, and how he would always go along with your nonsense. You said all those things with your full chest before, but now saying your true feelings felt like a battle. It made everything more real, and as you grew older you assumed he had never taken your childish ramblings seriously. Yet you seemed to be proven wrong as he gently cupped your face with one hand, the touch sending heat blazing throughout your entire being. As he leaned in closer, you closed your eyes, expecting a kiss…only for him to nuzzle your nose with his own. Yet the disappointment was drowned with the fuzzy butterflies that flew in your stomach at such an intimate act. One so loving and pure. 

Link’s actions screamed volumes louder than any words could as he littered both your cheeks, forehead, nose, chin, or anywhere he could reach with kisses. A bittersweet reminder of the day he came back after twilight had taken over. And just like that day, you reciprocated, this time with a heart full of light and happiness. Instead of ending it there, you pulled him in for a proper kiss, one you had wanted for as long as you could remember. He wasn’t as surprised by your actions as you wished he’d be as he reciprocated without hesitation. You didn’t mind his chapped lips, or the way you both kissed clumsily, because this was Link. Your Link. And you wouldn’t have him any other way.

And once you both pulled away breathless, ignoring how you both still stood in the spring with sopping wet clothes sticking to your skin, you took in the other's presence. The warmth you both offered each other, the happiness, the love, the need and the want. You were like two pieces to a puzzle, a part of you missing with the other gone. And in that moment, everything felt like it clicked into place. He may still need to continue his journey, but you knew that he’d always find his way back to you, just like he’d always know where to find you.

[poppy-metal]

we as a nation don’t talk about how much patrick loves to be degraded. because he hates himself, and a twisted part of him loves his fears to be confirmed, to give himself over to being terrible and debauched and for someone, a hot girl, you to tell him you know what he is, you know he’s bad and dirty and you know how little respect he deserves because of it. it’s such a relief to let go of the guilt of being terrible, and just be terrible. fucks you so nasty. legs spread in a v beneath him, kept open by his gripping hands. digs your pussy out, lunges forward and forward and forward inside you like he hates you. whimpers and grunts above, and looks into your tooth-gritted face with so much adoration. you try as hard as you can to maintain some composure, but you growl in stifled pleasure: “you’re a cheap fucking whore. you’d fuck anything that moves if i let you, wouldn’t you?”

“yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.”

brainless and guiltless, he chases the suckling heat of your cunt.

“yeah?” you sneer.

his spittle flies onto the pillow under your head and his cheek throbs, the sound of the cutting slap to his face mingling seamlessly with the slap of his thighs against your ass. he moans deeply, and his hips stutter but never still. your cunt tightens around him.

“you don’t even know what you’re agreeing to, you- you big dumb slut. listen to me when i speak or you’ll have to jerk yourself off for a fucking change.”

he swallows, and you pant as his adam’s apple bobs.

“no, no. please. please.”

“if you want to fuck this pussy you better prove to me you deserve it.”

and he will. he’ll do anything to deserve it.

YEWWWW GET IT

he hates himself so much that he needs degradation as much as he needs praise. when he's especially worked up - on the edge of self destruction or self sabotage - you pull him back to you with claws and teeth, reminding him his place is beneath you.

when he's being an asshole for no particular reason, and usually that's your perogative, the one picking petty fights - and it doesn't take him long to piss you off, get under your skin. think he probably calls you pathetic. you're really wasting your time on a deadbeat like him? just for some dick? what does that say about your self confidence?

and you know what he's trying to do. it's not about you so much as it's about himself and his own self confidence issues. thinks he's not shit and you're just going to drop him one day like art and tashi did - hell, hes practically inviting you too - holding the door open and promising to drink himself stupid as soon as you do.

and it's that knowledge that truly pisses you off- more than any of his words could. you're so sick of this smarmy asshole forcing his way into your heart and into your bed and twisting you all up inside only to act like a sad sack of shit because of his stupid childhood insecurities that you had nothing to do with.

maybe you could talk it out with him - truly get to the bottom of the problem. except you're not exactly the model for healthy behaviors either.

you fuck him instead.

when he tells you to fuck off and stop nagging at him you make it halfway to the door before you spin around and stalk back to where he's slouched into his ratty little couch - you yank his bottle of beer out of his hands and fling it across the floor, ignoring his sharp "the fuck?!" when you do.

your hand whips out to slap him, careening his cheek to the right - a bright red mark immediately appearing as blood rushes to the surface of his skin. he looks at you incredulously, his eyes wild and his lip split and bubbling with a bead of blood - he looks enraged, like he's about to stand up and choke you out - and if this had been a fight you started, you might let him do just that - hell, it'd be the exact outcome you wanted.

instead, before he has the chance - you lean down and crash your mouth to his. tugging his bottom bloody lip between your teeth and biting down hard, until he groans in pain and grips your waist in his hands. you pull back just to wrap a hand around his throat as you shove his head back against the couch, crawl into his lap and glare down at his flushed face.

"you're such a piece of shit and an asshole." you snap - reaching down with your free hand to yank at his belt, ripping it through the straps roughly and moving onto his zipper next. "you're like a fucking child, you know that? throwing tantrums because you can't communicate. you don't want me to leave." the hiss of the zipper as you drag it down. patrick still seems stunned by your slap - in a daze almost as you dip your hand into the hole of his jeans and fist his cock. "you'd fucking cry yourself to sleep thinking about me fucking some other guy."

finally, patrick snaps out of it - hips jerking as you grip his thickening dick in your hard grasp - hissing when you fish him out - "you're such a bitch." he volleys back at you, a weak insult. "I don't give a fuck - shit - what you do." he grits his teeth to near breaking them when you lean up and pull your panties to the side. the flash of your cunt just under your skirt blanking his brain. he'd make a comment on what a cockhungry slut you are, coming by his apartment with such a short skirt, but he's not on his A game today.

"yeah you do." you answer. you tip his chin even further back with your hand around his throat as you sink down on his cock with one push down of your hips. he groans, lashes fluttering. you grip the couch behind his head for leverage. "everyone thinks you're this devil may care playboy - but I know what you are -" you slowly drag your aching cunt up his thick cock, until just his fat tip is plugging your hole. " - you're a little pussywhipped bitch."

you slam your cunt down on him and feel his throat spasm under your palm as he chokes. "oh fuck -"

you start bouncing then, vigorous and mean - taking what you want. everyime you come down your clit catches on his belt buckle and the friction is so fucking good - you know you won't last long. and that's okay, because you'll be making him cream you up quick.

"trying to be shitty to the only girl who puts up with your loser ass, the fuck are you thinking, huh?" you slap him again, the scruff of his cheek scratching against your palm. you let your genuine anger come through your voice as you ride him. "what if I really left? you'd probably kill yourself you're such a goddamn health hazard. you're lucky you have such a huge cock."

patricks eyes roll back and his lips fall open. your pussy squeezes like a vice around him, hot and tender and fuck - he knows you're right. he'd literally be lost without this - he's become so dependent on this, on you - he'd fall apart if you genuinely went away. his fingers slide under your skirt and grip the fatty meat of your ass - groaning helplessly as you fuck him stupid on his cheap ass couch.

"s - shit. goddamn.," he can't think. no smart remarks in his head. just the sweltering bliss of your pussy sucking on his dick. "fuck. fuck - "

you wish you'd had the mind to get him fully naked - but you'd been so mad - you want to feel his bare skin on yours, his hips pounding yours into the couch - until the ratty thing collapses. your hands dive into his thick dark hair, gripping the strands roughly as you bounce furiously on and off his dick. "you piss me off," you grunt, half angry half horny as hell. "you piss me the fuck off."

"I know." he whines. squeezes your asscheeks as if in apology. "im sorry - I'm sorry, baby. I'm the worst - worst fucking man alive -"

you nod. "uh huh. stupid - f- fucking asshole. god, if I didn't love this dick so much -" he's hitting so deep inside you, but you want it even deeper. plunging and tunneling in and out, thos fat balls of his beating up against your asshole as he takes your tight pussy.

"fuck. use me. use my dick, baby - tell me how to fuck that pussy so she'll k- keep comin' back for more - "

"on top of me," you gasp, rutting back and forth in his lap, your hands kneading his shoulder - wanting his shirt off, wanting him naked. "pound my pussy - "

you're underneath him immediately.

[lay-z]

I'm sad for some reason I think I'm getting close to getting my period, so... I'm yearning for a fictional man and I'm hurting, because I can't have him 🥺❤️‍🩹 Also, I'd like to explore some slow burn type of romance and keep Simon's past traumas in mind! Pairing: civvie!F!Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley Warnings/Info: Reader is demisexual; cussing; tw: mental issues; insecurities; slow burn; awkwardness; humor Word count: 3.5k The one where two broken people connect.

You've already decided that you've given up on finding, not love, but companionship.

You've given up on love a long time ago, long before you'd reached your late 20s.

An old, creative and gentle soul, weighted down and scarred by childhood bullying, constant criticism by your family, societies bloody beauty standards and things you suffer from which you didn't even know how to describe let alone name in your youth.

Demisexuality? Body dysmorphia? Eating disorders? Anxiety? Insecurities, so deeply rooted, that they border on self-hatred?

And no, you never went to therapy – no. Gods, no, because if you go to therapy, you're mental, right? And how can your poor mother tell the rest of the family that you're mentally unstable? That something is wrong with her little, darling daughter? Hm?

So, no therapy, because your hyper-independence got your back. You're used to that, learned it in your younger years; always there for others, but no one ever stepped up for you, except yourself. Yet you're cursed to be an empath, so you never stopped caring for others, even if it killed you inside.

Giving. Giving. Giving. Tearing yourself apart to please and give up the love that brimmed in your kind heart. Never receiving anything good and soft, like some cheap whore, until there was little left of love to give.

Now you've turned cynical, cold, and lonely – or that's what you keep telling yourself to keep the façade up. Hiding behind humour and feigned nonchalance, because you're an entertainer. Always have been. You would've been an amazing actress, but when you were younger, your mother told you that you could never be the love interest, so why bother go to acting school and actually do something you enjoy?

You rarely wallow in self-pity anymore; only occasionally, right before you get your period and your hormones make you feel sad and depressed, make you break and hate yourself. Quiet and in secrecy, in the safety of your dark bedroom, or in front of the bathroom mirror – just to play out a sad scene in your delusional mind. Probably with a fictional man, someone who'd never hurt you – in your alternate universe.

Accept. Adapt. Overcome. Repeat.

It isn't ideal, but you've found coping mechanisms that work for you, albeit some unhealthy ones and you've survived so far. Emphasis on survived, not lived.

You're so deep in your thoughts, on the brink of dissociation, that you don't even realize you've been staring – again.

Your eyes flutter briefly, focusing back on the here and now until you realize what or, rather, who you have been staring at like some creep.

Fuck.

It's that man with the skull mask, not a ski mask, but a balaclava – you've googled it the first time you'd seen him around the café. You'd even researched if face coverings like that are illegal in the UK – turns out they're not, unless you refuse to take it off when a police officer orders you to.

He's staring right back at you; dark brown eyes unblinking, skin around the eye holes covered up by some black smudge – combat or war paint, probably. Sitting at the table right across from you by the cafés large windows; incredibly out of place for such a soft and quaint establishment. Nursing a tea, looking menacing and intimidating with his massive physique and black clothing, yet his eyes hold something more than stoicism in them. You know, because you see it yourself when you look into any mirror.

Bottled up emotions, a myriad of them, simmering just below the surface like a dormant volcano, ready to erupt someday.

You narrow your eyes then, force yourself not to tilt your head to the side like a curious puppy would do, because you don't want him to know that you're actually perceiving him this time – and not merely daydreaming and brooding like you usually do. Cursing internally, when you eventually lose this staring competition that you've completely just made up in your mind, because his eyes are too intense and he's obviously immune to social awkwardness, you reach for your lukewarm  matcha latte, taking a small sip as you turn your head away to stare out of the large shop windows, pretending to watch passers-by.

You force yourself to focus on the shitty UK weather outside, resting your chin on the back of your hand, elbow propped up on the cheap table. Rain and wind and colourful leaves grazing the wet pavement as the seasons start changing and autumn begins creeping in. You like autumn, prefer it over summer every year – and your mind begins to drift again, distracted by random strangers outside, grey clouds in the sky and fat raindrops pitter-pattering against the windows.

Meanwhile, his eyes never waver from you, and Simon catches himself wondering, what you might be thinking about now.

Time passes, and you try to keep your routine up – going out for a coffee once or twice every week, so you won't die of loneliness or isolation. At least, the café is nice, the baristas as well, it's not far from your flat and it's usually not that crowded nor busy.

Or so it was during summer.

Now, all people want to do is drink their coffees and teas inside, apparently, since the temperatures have dropped, along with the leaves.

After ordering your matcha latte, you turn around to see that your favourite spot by the window has been occupied in the past six minutes of standing by the counter. If only the lady in front of you had ordered her bloody tea and biscuits a smidge faster, but nah, you're not that lucky.

Groaning internally, you move to the table across from your fave, pulling one of the two plastic chairs out with more force than necessary because you're petty and annoyed. It's loud – not too loud, actually, but louder than it usually is – and you curse yourself for going out. You should've just stayed in this afternoon, curled up on your couch, playing some Baldur's Gate or so.

Some minutes pass after receiving your hot beverage and you've managed to drown out the noises and successfully ignore the sudden hubbub around the café.

That is until you notice a looming presence next to you; aura thick like molasses and prominent like the smell of gasoline, you don't know if you like it or not. It does catch your attention, though, and you turn your head to the left, eye-level with his denim-clad crotch, perhaps a little too close for the acceptable social standards.

Furrowing your brows in both confusion and offense, you have to tilt your head back and lean back in your chair to meet his eyes. How can those eyes be soft and aloof at the same time?

"Uh, hi?" You say then, brows still furrowed; not a greeting but an out for him to excuse himself for getting too close and fuck off again.

"Yer in me seat." He counters bluntly, voice incredibly rough and accented and muffled by the fabric of his mask as he gestures at the table with his gloved hand and holding a small coaster with a steaming cup of tea on top of it in the other one delicately. It looks comical and stupid, yet somehow endearing.

You're dumbfounded for a moment, blinking up at him in disbelief before finding your wit again, nodding your chin at the two chatting women sitting at your favourite table.

"And they're in mine," you say matter of factly, "If we go by that logic." You add dryly, picking up your latte, because the conversation is surely over.

He stays by your side, unmoving like a marble statue, dark eyes flickering somewhat nervously between you and the empty chair across from yours. Simon doesn't know how to properly interact with a civilian anymore; let alone a female civvie, and he ponders for a moment if he should just leave again, have a cuppa at his own flat.

But Simon's therapist had advised him, pleaded with him, to at least try and make a friendly connection with someone outside of his military comfort zone and well, here you are. At least your face is familiar already and you look harmless...safe.

"May I...sit with ye, lass?" He almost grits through his teeth, doing his best to ignore the way his heart beats hard against his ribcage as he waits for your rejection.

You pick up on the vulnerability in his voice, his demeanour, as if asking costs him some courage; truth be told, it would cost you some, too. Perhaps it's the fact that you've become silent acquaintances over the past few weeks; meeting up at this place without even meaning to. Each of you alone, always.

You stop in your movements, lifting the rim of your mug just to your lips before lowering it again, holding his gaze without taking a sip.

Sit with me? You muse to yourself, surveying him up close briefly and for the first time, at least consciously. He shifts on his feet some, heavy black boots – always boots, always layers of dark clothing, always the skull balaclava, no matter the temperature.

However, despite his looks, despite his authoritative and all-consuming aura and your better judgement, you nod once, cursing your intuition and empathy, nudging the empty chair away from the table from beneath it with your foot – a wordless permission, or perhaps an invitation?

And Simon exhales a long breath through his nose, jaw unclenching slightly as he gives a curt nod, sets his tea on the table and takes a seat on the offered chair. Easy.

And that is that.

The next time you're at the café, you breathe a sigh of relief to find it relatively empty for the time, except for some elderly customers and students working in silence on their laptops.

You're delighted to find your favourite table empty again and you order your usual matcha latte with coconut milk before eagerly sinking into the chair at 'your' table with a contented sigh and a good view on the people and life outside the cosy café.

Then your peace is once again disturbed by the soft clink of a tea cup being placed on the table, followed by the empty chair across from you scraping over the old hardwood floor, before he slips into the seat with a quiet huff.

"Your table is free," you tell him immediately, leaning to the side to look past his massive frame at the unoccupied table behind him.

"Aye, I know," he responds gruffly, folding his forearms on the table while he looks outside the window, "Figured we can ah safe space by sitting together." He suggests with a nonchalant shrug, though internally, Simon's stomach is clenching with nerves and anxiety. He despises feeling awkward and being in situations he cannot control.

Yes, it does feel incredibly awkward, but deep down you're too nice to tell him to fuck off, because he hasn't given you a reason to do so. When you were forced to share a table last time, you sat in somewhat comfortable silence, though you'd definitely finished your drink faster than usual back then before uttering a polite goodbye and slipping away.

"I guess so," you mutter in return because he's already sat down anyway.

Silence ensues, but you can't ignore the sudden tension of unasked questions and the pressure of social interactions. Then, it's too quiet in the establishment, and you both suddenly and silently hate it.

"Ye enjoy observin' people?"

His question catches you off guard because he sounds genuinely interested in you answer, and it's unnerving.

"Yeah, you could say that," you answer curtly, crossing your legs at your ankles under the table and leaning back into the cheap chair to feign nonchalance, even though you're currently anything but, "I find it relaxing."

"That's...strange," Simon retorts, quirking an eyebrow behind the safety of his balaclava, because he does that, too, and he never thought you'd blatantly admit that. Is people watching a thing among civvies? Then you shoot him an offended look and he can't help but cringe internally.

"Didn't mean it like that, lass." He assures you in a mumble, eyes flickering down to his steaming cup of Earl Grey tea.

Your first instinct is to mock him for his silly mask, ask him if he's a thug or cosplaying as one or some hooligan, but you bite your tongue, because you know better, and you feel like he could make you regret your sass. Especially if one of those assumptions proofs true.

"And what do you always do around here, hm? Never see you read a book or newspaper, let alone play with your phone," you ask instead, not even hiding the accusatory undertone as you turn your upper body towards the window. You're involuntarily dismissive, because it's been a while since you talked to a stranger like that, let alone a man.

"Same as ye, lass," he grumbles, "Thinkin', observin'...enjoyin' the peace." As if internal peace could ever be achieved in his case.

There's another moment of awkward silence and your mind is racing, riddled with anxiety, though unbeknownst to you, so is his. Simon is so out of his element and yet he forces himself to stay, unless you blatantly tell him to fuck off – which, deep down, he hopes you will.

"You're not some creep are you? 'Cause I swear, I'll clock you if you try anything or follow me home after this," you tell him with an edge to your voice, like you mean it. You're not opposed or afraid of violence. You grew up with older brothers and cousins.

Simon snorts at your threat, genuinely. He's taken off guard by your fierceness and he's absolutely sure you're serious about this, and he hates to know that he's capable of taking you down if he wanted to, even if you'd fight tooth and nail. It makes him feel guilty, makes his gut twist and churn because of those dark thoughts coming up in his brain like some black pest, even though he'd never ever do anything to hurt you.

"'m not," he assures you, eyes flickering over to study your face, your expression. You look tense and standoffish, and he can't help but admire that; to know that you're not afraid, that you can take care of yourself if push comes to shove.

"Name's Simon." He offers it like an oblation, a small yet important piece of himself, putting his given name and some trust into the hands of a stranger, and asking nothing in return.

You're once again dumbfounded and yet your mistrust and suspicious nature get triggered; squinting your eyes as him, your heart and brain are in utter turmoil.

"Didn't ask," you eventually retort coolly, like a proper arsehole, even though, deep down, it hurts yourself, hurts you to be rude like that, especially as you see something flicker in his dark eyes. Surprise? Hurt? Anger? You can't tell, but he leans back in his seat, gives a curt nod, accepting your snappish response just like that, and you think he'll leave, but he stays seated.

"I'm...sorry," you utter suddenly, fidgeting with the hem of your grey oversized hoodie, "That was...unnecessarily rude." You admit with a deep sigh. But was it, though? He's a stranger, some bloke with a mask, who just randomly decided to sit with you and introduce himself–

"It's fine, lass," he says, pulling you from your spiralling thoughts with his deep gravelly voice, "A reasonable reaction, really."

It is, Simon thinks. He might have questioned you about your thoughts on self-preservation and your survival instinct, if you wouldn't have reacted the way you just did.

He contemplates lifting his mask to finally take as sip of his tea, but like always, it costs him every ounce of courage to do so while you're looking at him so shamelessly with your alert eyes and that slight frown on your face, and Simon rubs his gloved palms over his thighs below the table to soothe himself as you keep scrutinizing him.

But then you utter your name in return, albeit hesitantly, and his eyes flicker up to meet your gaze, noticing the hint of curiosity in your eyes.

You don't see him, Simon, for several weeks after that and after some contemplation, you decide that he must've found a new café to hang out at or perhaps he got arrested eventually. You don't care either way.

But then, why do your eyes keep flickering around the shop whenever you drink your matcha latte? Why do you stare at the empty chair at his 'favourite table'? Why do you keep wondering what happened to him?

You don't want to accept it, don't want to acknowledge it, but deep down, you actually enjoyed having a proper chat with him the last time you saw him. When he so randomly decide to sit with you and introduce himself. You swiftly fix the slight purse of your lips as your mind keeps pondering about this stranger and you force yourself to enjoy your hot beverage until you can get back home and feel accomplished for actually having spent time outside your comfort zones, namely your flat and workspace.

But it's lonely. Always lonely.

In those few moments you'd shared with Simon, despite the awkwardness and that uncomfortable feeling of being perceived by someone, you'd realized that something has been missing in your life. Perhaps you should give your parents and siblings a call back; perhaps you should answer all those ignored messages in your phone; messages that have become less and less, because the people closest to you will eventually stop reaching out. You know that spiel already, yet you're having so much trouble actually pulling yourself out of this hole of self-isolation, a hole that's become suffocating, draining the colour from your life while you keep telling yourself that you're fine, that you want it this way.

"Lass?"

His voice cuts through your overthinking mind like a hot knife through butter and your eyes immediately find his gaze, that unwavering, piercing stare of his.

"Simon," you say in return, more like a greeting if it wouldn't be for the shocked pitch lacing your voice. You can faintly see his tired eyes crinkle slightly as he rests one gloved hand on the backrest of the empty chair across from you and you wonder if he's smiling behind his mask.

"Remember me name, aye?" He asks gruffly, almost playfully, the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of his chapped lips beneath his mask as he pulls out the chair, waiting for your permission.

"Tsk. Obviously," you answer with a scoff and an eye roll before giving him a short nod. "No tea?" You remark as he sits down without it, raising an eyebrow as you sip on your own drink.

"Err, no. Not stayin' for one," he answers, shaking his head, "Was jus' in the area," he lies, "Figured I could drop by and say 'ello." He adds with a shrug, feeling utterly stupid now, because Simon definitely was not in the area.

He came home from a deployment last night and wanted to check on you for some reason, see if you're still coming here, see if you’re doing alright – but of course, you are.

"Mhm," you hum affirmingly, though more suspicious than ever as you survey him. You want to spit out Why?,  the question burning on the tip of your tongue, but you’re somehow too distracted by his overall appearance.

The paint around his eyes has faded, as if rubbed and smudged too many times. He smells an awful lot of tobacco and something else you can't quite pinpoint. Even in his usual attire of some type of black jacket or hoodie, jeans, boots and his balaclava, he looks terribly dishevelled and messy.

"Where have you been?" You find yourself asking before you can stop your mouth from moving. "If you don't mind me asking." You add casually, for good measure.

“Deployed.” Simon answers offhandedly, sounding colder than he intended to, and you do pick up on the shift in attitude; he doesn’t want to elaborate.

“Okay,” you retort with a nod, though your curiosity is sparked, and you click your tongue, pondering, before you confuse him as you let out a little snort.

Of course, he's a fucking soldier, you muse to yourself, should've figured that out myself.

You can practically see him raise his eyebrows in confusion, noticing how the fabric of his bloody mask shifts slightly.

“Ye laughin’ at me for servin’ me country?” He asks and desperately hopes that you pick up on the teasing tone in his voice, though it’s still hoarse from barking orders at his men for days on end.

“No,” you answer uncharacteristically soft, flashing him a rare genuine and sheepish smile, “I always wanted to join the military myself.”

Simon doesn’t know if it’s the smile you shoot him, catching him off guard, because he’s never seen that expression on your face before, let alone that sudden twinkle in your eyes as you admit that you’ve thought about enlisting in your past, but he suddenly feels even more intrigued by you; this secluded, lovely civilian in front of him, and he finds himself asking then,

“Why didn’t ye enlist?”

Perhaps he should get that tea after all.

Part 2 ?