#bc he kissed women in the show

[comas-are-for-sleeping]

my toxic trait is wanting to call ed nygma the f slur

[bitchthefuck1]

you know what, I actually will talk about this because it's bothering me. The issue with focussing so heavily on syd and carmy's potential for a romantic relationship isn't that there's something inherently unintellectual about romance or whatever, it's that a lot of people seem incapable of doing that without immediately flattening the story and ignoring or intentionally misreading any and all nuance for the sake of that romance. Every scene suddenly becomes about how it impacts their relationship, every analysis is done through a romantic lens, every frame or line of dialogue becomes about finding some easter egg or hint that "proves" these people should start dating. Their dynamic is absolutely a fundamental part of this show, but if you can only see it as a will-they-won't-they, you miss so much of what the story is actually trying to say with these two.

There are good versions of this story where their relationship is romantic and there are good versions of this story where it isn't, but as soon as you decide them being together is "the point," you lose the ability to actually judge the story for what it is, not what you want it to be.

[possamble]

AHA thank u i was mostly just. frantically pulling the "no hetero" card bc farcille is super super always endgame for me and the "marcille has two hands" thing is absolutely not for me and my personal characterization of marcille

i like. can't find it anymore for some reason but there was a farcille fic set just after the shuro confrontation where laios reaches over to hold marcille's hand and ask her if she likes him or if she's just tolerating him too and it was so. the vulnerability. the puppyness.

that safety and security he must feel in knowing that she wears her heart on her sleeve and he will always know when she's unhappy with him because she will absolutely let it be known. the way that falin's first revival was the turning point for the way he felt about her because, for the first time in his life, protecting falin wasn't something he had to shoulder alone. there was finally someone else who cared about her as much as he did (in his eyes, resenting his parents for failing to protect her) and would stop at nothing to save her. the way it must have been proof for him that, not only was falin not alone anymore, he wasn't alone anymore.

idk why i like rather than dislike the fact that his only framework for parsing how he feels about "the first girl other than his sister that he's ever cared this much about" is a comphet romantic lens. like he would have the autism moment of fully assuming that he's in love with her for a while and just like. not? doing anything about it? because he doesn't feel the urge to, nor is he sad that he knows marcille would mostly likely never "feel the same way" about him?

like. he "figures out" that he's "in love with marcille" with all the passion of printing out a label and sticking it onto a favourite scrapbook for organizational purposes. he's equally happy to be her husband or brother-in-law so long as it means she stays close and is part of his family.

i know logically i should hate it but it's sooo crunchy to me. my comphet besties ever. designated plus one and dance partner to all fancy and formal occasions. having actual real chemistry but the "romantic" part of it is some weird shapeshifter smokescreen. augh

[mikesbasementbeets]

it’s a little frustrating sometimes to watch people try to “debunk” gay mike evidence by quibbling over things that are. kind of beside the point? like arguing that mike’s consistently negative (or even neutral, if you want the benefit of the doubt) reactions to girls aren’t “disgust” therefore they don’t mean anything. but like 1. yeah i agree, cates gate isn’t about mike being “disgusted.” mike’s face when el kisses him isn’t “disgusted.” mike’s reaction to el, to max, to girls in general doesn’t really read to me as “disgust” either. so 2. what DOES it read to you as? incredulity? confusion? discomfort? those…. still aren’t positive reactions.

the point is that mike actively and blatantly Does Not react positively toward el kissing him. and he also Doesn’t react positively to dustin’s description of a girl being “hotter than phoebe cates.” he asks “is she cute?” with maybe preemptive incredulity (in line with will's question "girls go to science camp?") over a girl who goes to science camp being cute, or perhaps just a neutrally curious state over dustin's new girlfriend, but then dustin doesn’t say “she’s hotter than phoebe cates.” he says, ��think phoebe cates. only hotter.” that’s a prescriptive statement. you want to know if she’s cute, mike? think about phoebe cates, and then imagine someone hotter than that. and mike’s expression doesn’t improve in the slightest. think about someone hotter than phoebe cates, dustin tells mike. and mike? remains confused and entirely unintrigued. no, he’s not disgusted, but the point is not his negative reaction, it’s a complete lack of any sort of positive reaction. if he’s listening to dustin, he should have, in that moment, thought of phoebe cates. and his reaction?

nothing.

(but. this is also just to say... i don’t even think it's fair to call most of mike’s facial reactions “proof” of his sexuality in any argument… i think they’re fun little easter eggs that add an extra visual element to his gay characterization. but. it’s not WHY people think he’s gay. it's funny to point out BECAUSE he's gay)

[edit: AND this is not even to mention the direct line drawn to this in season four via stobin's discussion of fast times, linking phoebe cates to 'people who like boobies.' #notmikewheeler]

[nodominion]

I need Daniel's 'assistant' to be Jesse.

[markantonys]

odds of the show giving mat additional (non-endgame) love interest(s)? the books make such a big deal about what a flirt he is, but he doesn't actually do much Onscreen Romancing before he meets tuon, just his brief flings with melindhra and aludra (no, i do not count tylin as a Mat Romance). i feel like since they gave perrin a wife and made randgwene actually have a real relationship, it's not outside the realm of possibility that mat could have new romance(s) added if it served the story.

or they could also just flesh out his book ones more, especially aludra since that one is almost blink-and-you'll-miss-it in the books (although there's no guarantee aludra would make it into the show - depends on how they're planning to handle the dragon-cannon invention plotline). plus, with the condensing of events in the show, there may not be much time for him to have more than a 1-scene hookup with anyone besides melindhra (season 3 or 4) and tuon (whom he could potentially meet in season 5 if his ACOS & WH ebou dar activities are condensed into a single season).

[a-dash-in-the-middle]

extra tired, feet hurt, would do it again 10/10

[dramarants]

ah they just had the fiancee cheat with arguably the slimiest character in the show to try and balance out the leads finally kissing, all of a sudden spells aren't real and the curse is entirely forgotten they're solving everything with lazy ass writing okay

[requiemforthestars]

People who say that Hot D S2 is bad do not understand that this was made for gay girls and nobody else

[ragnar0c]

Absolutely criminal. Lesbian visibility week and I haven’t posted nearly enough Alope. She’s a lesbian. LOOK AT HER (thumbnails) more rendered part 2 later lol

[7roaches]

ngl ice king and mbetty is cute but i think if i was ice king and i turned back into simon bc all the golbetty shit still happened my entire perception would chan why am i talking in first person i think for a looooong time like akin to his process in f&c simon would be hung up over betty nd be like “ooooo yeah ice king was terrible i understand why she was like that” and then when he cant rationalize that anymore hed be like “ooooo betty was crazy and i was too so i understand it” and then “oooooo but she loved me so much so its actually romantic” & then he’d reach his pinnacle instead of minerva therapy i think hed just sit there like hey. what the fuck was that about

[soopysoap]

remembering how i had to explain to my straight liberal father scene by scene that richie was in fact gay after It 2 had been out for YEARS... maybe straight ppl are just Stupid.

[hauntingblue]

This volume is called ace's introduction. Nothing more to say.

"You hire comedians here?" He is so funny....

Who's gonna tell him..... He literally will never get a break

Ace being so proud of Luffy not accepting to join and being a little shit... Also right here is where I got ROBBED of my acesan content.... Also he does fight whitebeard... In marineford... GOD!!!!!

GOOOD TAKE ME INSTEAD!!!! TAKE MEEEE!!!! AAAAHHHHHHHH

You cannot see me but I am on the floor on my knees and I am crying and sobbing and hitting my chest asking the gods to spare him

[gutsby]

Who’s Your Daddy?

Pairing: Stepdad!Joel x Reader

Summary: You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Deadbeat-Perv-Peepaw LOVES corny porn tropes and women over half his age. Stepcest & dubcon technically bc Reader’s locked inside an appliance, but she’s into it (getting fucked, not stuck). One (1) kick in the dick. Spanking. Brat-taming. Choking. Daddy issues. Size kink. Praise kink. Infidelity. Creampie.

Note: Saw this post by @ovaryacted and started BARKING. For my Old Man lovers/daddy issues crew, this one’s for you.

Word count: 8.3k

It was the closest thing to porn you’d ever done before.

Still, you weren’t quite ready to call it that.

And why should you? Financial straits were no anomaly to a girl your age, especially in this economy, and almost everyone you knew had a side gig of some kind. It just so happened that your job required slightly skimpier attire. And a webcam. And some very special…accessories that would likely send your grandmother into cardiac arrest if she ever took a peek inside your bottom dresser drawer.

Okay, it was definitely porn.

But you never showed your face, so it didn’t really count as the same kind of stuff that your family condemned.

You scampered out of your room the second you heard the front door to the house slam closed all the same. Arms laden with G-strings, stockings, satin bralettes, lace and tulle bodysuits of almost every style imaginable, you ran a quick, perilous path to the living room window and made sure to keep your head ducked low as you did. You peered out through the gap in the curtains and had to squint hard to see anything in the midafternoon sun.

Then you saw it and felt instant relief—they were leaving.

Your grandma for one, your mother for second, and wherever the latter was headed, you knew her shadow would be soon to follow. You saw a thick plume of smoke outside and surmised that Joel was somewhere around the other side of the SUV, smoking and droning on about how he was perfectly fi-i-i-ne to drive, don’t be like that.

By ‘like that’ he meant sensible. And by ‘perfectly fine’ he meant two Miller Lites shy of completely shitfaced. You could already imagine the wry smile on your mother’s lips as she tried prying the keys from his hands. Your stepdad would probably plant a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek to win a ‘yes’ in return—and when she shyly reminded him that he couldn’t afford to get another DUI, he’d get pissed and yank them out of her fist anyway.

Fucking loser.

Fucking triple-the-legal-limit dumbass motherfucker.

It didn’t bother you as much today because you knew they were only driving a couple blocks away to get to the farmer’s market, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope he’d get caught. Again. Maybe blow a 0.25 this time and land his old, ungrateful, law-breaking ass in Travis County Jail, where his little brother Tommy was likely keeping a cell bench warm for him, per usual.

At any rate, you didn’t have time to be fantasizing now. It was your turn to embody some guy’s grossest wet dreams for the next two to three hours. Stripping away layer after layer of your latest, tightest ‘costume’ while catering to whatever requests happened to float in your inbox, you knew you’d be up to your eyeballs in work. Though almost routine by now, you had to hurry up.

If you could just get the rest of this ridiculous gunk out of your clothing, you’d be all good to go for the job.

TRMAN22: Pour honey on your tits in the next vid???

TRMAN22: Milk too. All over you.

Looking back, you probably shouldn’t have obliged that request. Now you were facing the consequences—forced to throw all your clothes in the washing machine because the milk and honey you’d dumped on yourself for that video had gotten everywhere, and then swiftly congealed while wasting away in a pile of laundry for over a week.

The whole heap smelled rancid. Still felt sticky, too. Presently, you chucked each one inside the washing machine while holding your breath, and as soon as the last was discarded, you sniffed the shirt you had on.

Tolerable. With the rest of your stuff in the wash, you hoped to get at least one request off the checklist:

TRMAN22: Bet you’d look sexy in a schoolgirl outfit!!

TRMAN22: Why don’t you try one on for me?

It was gag-worthy and gross. Slightly alarming for a man who was more than likely twice your age and old enough to remember Watergate, but you agreed to play along. Your old school uniform was, after all, the only clean clothes you had left, and ‘TRMAN22’ was, unfortunately, your top subscriber. He’d paid $300 for this video alone.

TRMAN22: Wear some NEON pink panties for me too ;)

You squatted in front of the washing machine and stuck a hand inside. You sifted around, furrowing your brows.

The brightest undies you owned were in there, soiled, but you figured you could get away with one gross article of clothing, all things considered. You reached a little further and continued to dig. When you couldn’t find it by feel alone, you peered inside the circular, metallic cavern of the washing machine and craned your neck.

Not here…not here…not—

You tilted forward, venturing a closer look with your head, then shoulders, pushing into the machine.

—here, not here, not—

“EW!” you shrieked.

In your search, you’d inadvertently brushed up against a mildewed piece of clothing that had gotten wedged between the grooves of the washing machine’s interior.

A pair of boxers, it seemed.

You recoiled as soon as your fingers grazed the wet and smelly thing. Your skull went crack against the low-sloped ceiling of the appliance, and a jolt of pain was quick to course through you at the contact. You groaned.

Of course Joel had forgotten some old, cum-stained scrap of fabric out of his last load. Always leaving his shit around for you or your mom to pick up like he owned the place. And here you went, again, angrily plugging your nose and pulling as hard as you could on the shorts to get them free from the washing machine. You hardly thought twice, just made a face and then yanked on it.

The boxers wouldn’t budge.

You tugged even harder. The fabric stayed put.

Something akin to a grunt and a whimper, only far more pathetic, slipped out of your mouth, and you slapped the half-hollow steel wall in frustration. Surrounded as you were—fully encased in metal—the sound just echoed.

“Fucking…CUNT.”

You weren’t sure if you were talking to the shorts, the machine, or Joel Miller in the abstract. Or maybe all three. You just hated the thought of washing your lingerie with your stepdad’s skivvies, and no amount of rational thought or practical reasoning could hold you back now.

The tip of your index finger sank deep beneath the same ridge of the wall where the boxers had gotten stuck. You curled it inward, trying to loosen the material up a little. You wriggled your knuckle even further. And just when you managed to get a hold of the cusp of the tangled fabric—just when it seemed the green plaid cluster was about to give way—you heard a low pop. You felt it, too.

Shortly, your finger was pinched inside the deep, blunt valley of steel that had similarly snagged Joel’s boxers. It seemed you’d pushed the tip of your finger so far that you were caught straight down to the second knuckle—trapped between two grooves of unforgiving alloy inside the washing machine tub with no clear means of escape.

You jerked your arm back, panicked. When the metal sank its teeth even deeper, you didn’t stop. Completely heedless of the pain, you operated on impulse and by the feeling of needing to get the fuck out of that little space, quickly, and instead yanked your hand back even harder.

To your horror, your finger was stuck.

“FUCK!”

You stared down at the poor digit, only half-visible inside the wall at this point, then glanced down at the heap of sweaty, sticky, slutty pieces of clothing that were presently strewn about you, and felt an even deeper stab of dread. Stuck inside your family’s washing machine with every bit of damning evidence one could hope to have—and wearing your old school uniform to boot—you realized at once you were fucked if you didn’t get out.

You slammed your palm against the nearest wall once more, shaking your other wrist like an unruly child.

“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!”

You weren’t good at solving problems. In point of fact, you sucked at all things prudent resolution-related and regularly made it a habit to capitulate whenever you sensed loss inevitable. You were a little like your mother in that way, quick to give in to life’s uglier challenges. The only way you could conceivably claim to be stronger, the only place you always had the strength to say ‘no’ was—

“Aw, shit.”

—Joel.

Your throat tightened as soon as you heard the voice. Your eyes went wide, and the rest of you went numb.

Bent at the waist and kneeling with half your body inside the washing machine, you remained there, motionless. Back arched and ass out. Thanks to the way you’d rolled your old plaid skirt, the fabric covered almost zero cheek.

Someone behind you cleared their throat. Then coughed.

And coughed again, again, and again. Evidently trying to clear the smoke out of his lungs and the surprise from his eyes as he drank in your sight from the doorway.

“What in the—wh—th—” You could hear Joel wheeze, beating his chest with his fist, “What— in— the hell?!”

“Help me,” you hissed.

You weren’t sure why you chose that as your go-to. It just sounded like the right thing to say, and frankly, you weren’t sure how else to distract from the fact Joel was probably gawking at your ass as he coughed up a lung.

“The fuck do you mean ‘help’?! What are you doing?”

The coughing subsided, if only momentarily. You tried pulling back on your finger again to get out, but couldn’t.

“I-I’m…I was just…” you stammered, heart racing.

You heard the tread of heavy footfalls. You felt them.

“Just—trying…” you ventured again, suddenly at a loss for words and breath alike as you felt a presence draw in.

You could smell him.

That realization alone made you want to stop taking in air altogether. It happened out of instinct, really—feeling the shift of two huge boots settle behind your feet and then flinching inward, further inside the metal tub for…safety? A pang of abject humiliation? You were far past the point of civility with the man, caring what he thought, or fearing for your modesty in a position like this, but something about the proximity now just made you itch.

You wished your finger wasn’t jammed inside this appliance so you could give that feeling relief, somehow.

At length, Joel’s voice dragged you back:

“What’s stuck?”

Too calm. A second passed. Then he added, more stern,

“This some fuckin’ joke’a yours or somethin’?”

“No!”

“Then what—”

“My finger. My finger’s stuck.”

You tried to crane your neck to see behind you, but all your eyes had to feast upon was denim. Bluish-grey stonewashed denim, faded with years of use. Joel stood back for a second, as if considering what to do, and then you saw two hands descend to brace themselves against his knees. He bent at the waist to get a better look below.

When his eyes locked with yours, you got the same twist in your gut as you’d felt before, only sharper. Shameful.

The look on Joel’s face was abnormally bright.

“And how on earth did that happen, dumbass?”

Your shame morphed into chagrin in a blink, seeing the ghost of a smile bleed into your stepdad’s features.

“‘Cause of you, leaving your shit in here!” you snapped. Your chin jerked toward the green fabric, “I was just trying to get your boxers unstuck—and my finger…”

Your finger was kind of fucked.

Joel cast a look inside at the source of your frustration. He extended his left arm and reached over your torso, and as he did, you felt the slightest, albeit solid, sort of warmth press in. The man let out a low groan of exertion—likely at the strain the movements placed on his joints.

The warmth got worse. You weren’t sure where it started.

Vaguely, you were aware of Joel’s thumb pressing into your hand. Gliding down your finger, stroking across the spot where your knuckle had gotten caught, he circled over it, slowly, and made another sound in his throat.

“Well that ain’t…good.” Not one to mince words.

By now, your whole body was on fire. You barely had the strength to keep kneeling, much less speak to the man thumbing your hand and pressing his heat so close—

“Just get me out!” you shrieked.

You heard your mother’s voice in that. A shrill, impatient lilt in her speech that came out, invariably, around Joel. Normally, he would have done something to deserve it. But today, with his hand splayed over yours and his breaths as calm and even-keeled as he could hope to have them while he tried to help, he was blameless.

Evidently, he heard a trace of your mother too, because you heard him laugh. You felt the reverberations of his amusement travel up from his belly all the way to his lips.

“Cool your pits, kid.”

For that, you would’ve loved nothing more than to reach back with your free hand and hit him in the balls. But, as it was, this man was your only hope for escape, and he was being tolerably polite, anyway. He pinched your finger between the tips of two of his and gave it a tug.

“Okay, lemme just—” Joel started.

“Why are you home, anyway?”

The question came out more clipped than you meant it.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Joel countered evenly.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

You reckoned he could probably feel you roll your eyes, even if he wasn’t able to see you do it right now. He waited another moment, then leaned back on his haunches and withdrew his arm from the tub.

“Mama don’t like me drinkin’ and drivin’, you know that.”

With that, the warmth was gone. Joel retreated.

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

You heard him exhale a little harder through his nose. When he’d steadied himself against the washing machine, gave his knees another second to prepare for getting up again, you could feel his eyes back on you. Maybe he lingered longer than his legs really needed.

Maybe if he hadn’t stayed crouched like that, he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to give your surroundings a second look. He wouldn’t have stopped to watch the rate of your breaths pick up or the way your skin startle to bristle with some strange, unknown sensation. He certainly wouldn’t have felt for himself the fever leaking out from the base of your spine right then.

Today just wasn’t the day for keeping secrets, it seemed.

“And what’s this?” You could feel Joel lean back in.

He was looking again. Peering inside. Steadying his weight with the edge of the washing machine gripped in one hand, while the other snaked its way back inside.

You’d already squeezed your eyes shut by the time Joel got a hold of something. You didn’t know what it was.

But it became painfully clear that it wasn’t just one ‘thing’ that had grabbed his attention at all, but rather a series of items that his hands were just now getting to explore. You didn’t have to see his broad and tan, callus-streaked fingers to feel them roaming over your clothes.

Gross.

Gross.

“Gross,” Joel agreed, as if he’d read your mind. Grinning.

If you thought the embarrassment was bad before, you really only knew a fraction of what humiliation could be. Your finger throbbed along with the pulse in your skull.

Your mother’s husband whistled and lifted something.

“Darlin’, this is just…disgusting.”

You winced. You tried not to pry an eye open, to steal a covert look through the frame of your lashes in that dim and crowded spot, but the inducement was too great—Joel was dangling one of your lime green G-strings like it was a fish he’d just caught out on the lake. Boasting it.

Doting, almost.

“Well I’ll be—”

“Will you quit?!” you snapped.

You grabbed the thing out of his hand and threw it aside.

“Can you be serious? For one fucking secon—”

“Oh, I’m bein’ serious, sweetie,” Joel cut in. Cool as ever, “Serious as the business end of a .45, I swear.”

He paused. Then he reached for a white nylon bustier, drenched in a layer of honey that was as hard as a rock.

“Do you always keep your little…skank tanks so filthy?”

That was it. You kicked your heel back—and up—and made a pass to hit your stepdad square in the balls.

Your aim wasn’t the best it’s ever been, seeing that half your body was trapped inside a home appliance at the moment, but what your jab lacked in accuracy, it made up for in force: your foot plunged into the seam of Joel’s jeans full throttle. From the way the back of your heel plowed into his crotch, and the sound that clawed out of his throat the same instant, you reckoned you did okay.

What you weren’t expecting was a smack in return.

An answer in kind—delivered by the palm of Joel’s hand.

A taut, thoughtless THWACK on the swell of your ass.

Your mouth fell open. Your body barely had the chance to recoil when, shortly, another blow landed on your cheek.

Joel spanked you.

Spanked you.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he spat. His palm had slid up with the weight of his last slap, and now his fingers were clenched in a fist in the back of your skirt. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel him gripping fabric. It was firm.

He was firm—unrelenting in his hold.

Kneeling behind you, yanking back a handful of tartan skirt like it was nothing, then sidling up behind you.

And just when your attention was drawn to some other firm thing, it was shortly diverted by another sensation.

“JOEL!” you shrieked as he gave you another spanking.

The bare skin of your cheeks was on fire. Joel hit hard. Just when you feared you might legitimately whimper with the sting of that last blow, and while the imprint of his palm was still fresh, you felt it move again. Lower.

“Joel.”

That came out more like a whine than a cry of protest. And how could you, now, when he was soothing the raw bite of his hand with a touch that was kneading the skin?

Working the soft, supple flesh of your ass in his hand like he’d never dream of being anything else but gentle to it.

“Good?” Joel said.

Your head flinched to nod, but your brain thought better.

It did feel good. So good, in fact, that your eyelids were starting to droop just a bit and your back was subtly arching into the touch, but those were only instincts. Stupid, useless, brain-rotted reflexes born of years of paternal neglect and replete indifference, the likes of which could bring a grown man to his knees, begging—

“Please.”

But the entreaty was your own, and the voice that spoke it was hoarse. Your belly sank into the circular aperture of the washing machine, and you could feel your ribs scraping close to metal. Nevertheless, you didn’t mind. That ditzy lizard brain of yours was starved for physical touch, and who were you to deny her at a time like this?

No, not when Joel was squeezing like that.

Groping was the more appropriate word for it, really. Notwithstanding the decades of sexual experience that no doubt preceded the man that was standing before you—behind you—today, Joel was unduly coarse. His broad, weathered hand made as if to cool its former sting, but the motions themselves were jerky. Desperate.

He needed this worse than you, the fucking pervert.

Just when the realization had begun to settle over your mind and your legs were getting to feel a little less like jelly, knowing you weren’t the only weak one here, Joel’s palm slowed down. He pressed the heel of it into your flesh as if to force himself to stop, then he took a breath.

“Now use your words.”

“But—” you sputtered.

“I said,” Joel resumed, and you could sense it was through gritted teeth. His movements came to a halt.

“We use our words when we want somethin’, hear?”

It was the first you’d heard Joel attempt to enforce anything close to discipline with you in your life.

That had to warrant a little defiance, no doubt.

Under your breath, quiet: “So ‘we’ includes ‘you,’ too?”

Beneath that one, seemingly innocuous question was lurking another, and both of you knew it: Remember that time you put a fist through the kitchen wall? Was that a good example of what it means to ‘use words,’ Joel? Whether it was adequate provocation or not, you could sense what was coming next before you’d even finished. When the spank landed on your right cheek so loud that it echoed, you didn’t flinch. You did snag your lip between your teeth to keep a sound from spilling out.

“A dad makes rules. Ain’t his to follow,” Joel growled.

You blinked and bit down harder. Watched the broad, amorphous shape of the man’s reflection shift along the back metallic wall in hues of grey and blue and wished you had the strength to turn around and face him then.

“You aren’t my dad.”

“Said ‘a’ dad, didn’t I?”

“You’re not that either.”

Heat was rising to your cheeks again, this time for different reasons. For a cause you were far better acquainted with to date—annoyance at Joel.

“So that means I’m—”

“Nothing. You’re nothing to me,” you finished, tone wry.

Nothing to anyone, you wanted to add. Not with a shiny gold band latched onto your left hand to tell the world that you’re married to my mother, a pack of smokes tucked away in the jeans she washes every week, or a couple years spent under the same roof as me. Nothing.

Your teeth clamped back down—and almost sank clean through your lower lip this time—when next you felt a touch at the plush, covered mound that was normally shielded between your legs. The spot that was hardly ever tilted up in a position like this, exposed to the air and a man’s hungry gaze, now invaded by the press of a single thing: a warm and soft middle finger at your core.

Joel brushed the tip of it against your entrance, through your panties, and sucked a breath through his teeth when both of you felt a tiny squelch at the pressure.

He pressed harder, and the wetness only spread.

You didn’t have to be in Joel’s position to know what he was seeing, but the feeling from his finger overpowered any better sense to speak—or tell him to stop. He traced his slow, cruel circles against your warmth and moved it up to where he knew he’d find your bud, and when you whimpered, he simply added his index to the mix. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind you were leaking heat at that point. You could feel it seeping beneath his touch.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel breathed, voice low. Your arousal made a sickening hiss beneath his fingers as he rubbed you even harder, “This feel like nothin’ to you, honey?”

You couldn’t speak. He knew you weren’t capable of it.

“‘Cause this sure don’t feel like nothin’ to me.”

Wet and tacky beneath his touch, your warmth supplied the answer that your mouth couldn’t form. It came out in more of a tap, tap, tap, punctuated by breaths that were toiling in earnest not to turn into moans too soon. But, as hulking and clumsy as his hands had once shown themselves to be, the old man knew where to put them, at least. He made circles on your clit with practiced ease.

“You can try lyin’ to me, but she can’t.”

He was right. ‘She’ was a traitor.

You could deny it all you wanted, but the proof was there.

Indeed, she was crying. Aching. Bleeding with desire. Throbbing beneath the pads of Joel’s fingertips and growing only more desperate as he increased the speed of his touch. When he notched the drenched cotton to the side, you had to grit your teeth to keep in a whimper.

Joel whistled.

“See? Seems like she likes me just fine right here.”

Your jaw stayed wired shut with the weight of your own humiliation. Instead of answering aloud, you hummed. Made a sound low and soft in your throat like, ‘Uh-hmm’ and tilted your hips, as if you didn’t know how else to ask. Joel couldn’t see inside the washing machine, but he must’ve felt the gesture, because he greeted it with a motion of his own: he chuckled, and he puckered his lips.

And when you felt the warmth of his spit hit you between your folds, your shame should’ve tripled. Should’ve made you flinch away from his touch and tell him that was so fucking gross, Joel, stop, but then he smeared it up your slit. He pressed in and mixed it with the rest of your arousal; any reproach died on your tongue in an instant.

A part of him was on you now. Trickling in, sticking to the most sensitive part of you, and settling into your skin like a glaze. With his other hand, he found your skirt again.

“Who’re ya wearin’ this for, sweet pea?” Joel murmured.

“No one.”

Another glob of spit landed between your cheeks. Now, the man used the lubrication to sink two fingers inside you—pushing them in until the rim of your cunt met his knuckles. You whined at the stretch, felt him coax your walls open with a consciousness and a carefulness that felt almost mean, but then he stroked down the base of your spine with the hand that still held onto your skirt. He soothed your startled cry with a curl of his fingers.

And he found the soft, spongy patch of flesh inside that made your eyes roll straight to the back of your skull, quickly. Working his fingers in and out, flattening the base of his free hand over the skin exposed by your flipped-up skirt, and watching your body give way to the force of his fingers, he was uncharacteristically patient. Exacting in the way he worked your body open to him.

“What do you care?” you groaned. You winced when you felt a squelch signal that he’d stretched you even wider.

“‘Cause,” Joel started, slow. Pumping his fingers through your folds and likely wondering when he’d add a third, “You got your hand stuck in a fuckin’ washing machine, a treasure trove of this slut stuff piled in a heap…I mean…”

“They’re just clothes!”

“Just clothes?”

In the wake of those terse, incredulous words, you tried your best to match his tone—call his bluff—but the only sound that came out of your mouth was punctured by a pitiful whine. He tried another finger but couldn’t fit it in. As wet as you were, and as strong as he was, your cunt wasn’t quite ready to accept all three of Joel’s thick, probing digits inside. You’d fit more than a thing or two with a girth even greater than that in the past, but you figured your nerves might have something to do with the way you were tightening around the man’s fingers now.

Why you couldn’t take more of him in, as much as you wanted him there, felt, at present, like something of a shortcoming, and a pathetic one at that. You let out a breath, and a second later, Joel slowed his motions.

You didn’t expect him to stop. Didn’t hold out a hope he might curtail his pace and talk you through a quiet, gentle arrangement for fitting a third finger inside you—that just wasn’t him. You didn’t have to share a paper-thin bedroom wall with your mother and her husband for the last however many years to know that Joel Miller was not a tender lover. It simply wasn’t in his nature to care.

So when you heard the clink of a belt coming undone a moment later, your senses strangely flooded with relief. He wouldn’t care, wouldn’t inquire, wouldn’t coddle with false, romantic ideals of how a woman should be treated.

In that way, Joel shared something in common with your father after all: he set standards as low as they could go.

“Just clothes?” he repeated, snapping your underwear against your ass and jerking the fabric further aside.

Then somehow send those expectations even lower.

There was a hand splayed out across the small of your back. Another fiddling with the front of his pants, wrestling the button and zip of his jeans in little more than one, two, three careless seconds, before he drew in closer to your rear. Your slit was messy, wet, and exposed to his eyes once again. For a second, you almost took comfort in the fact that your hand was still wedged inside a groove of steel and you couldn’t meet his gaze.

That was, until Joel slid his bare length along the seam of your cunt. When the inability to see him made it so you had no other choice but to be surprised when he finally touched you was unnerving, to say the least.

And when the head of his cock blended seamlessly between your folds, was drenched in less than a blink and nearly notched straight into the place you needed him most—well, that had an effect on him, too. Joel moved his flat and sweaty palm up your back, found purchase in the hem of your blouse, and gripped it. Tugged it down a little more and let a low groan billow out of his throat while he rocked his hips back and forth.

Desperate, clumsy, pussydrunk Joel was back before you’d even realized he’d left. Only now he was keen to put the disquiet and hesitations to rest; he needed to fuck you before either one of you wisened up just then.

Your parts and his commingled again. First, with the lethally warm trail of precum leaking out from his tip. Then the intrusion that followed, inevitably, glossed with self-indulgence and desperation—soiling any semblance of platonic affection or parental attention—as he fed you the first inch of him. Barely half the head got fitted inside and your grip on that was like a vice. Joel’s was bruising.

Suddenly firm on your hips, carving crescents in the skin:

“When’s the last time you got fucked, baby?”

You reckoned Joel had a guess—and it wasn’t correct.

“Last…week,” you whimpered, words punctuated with a sigh as his cock tried to make room for more of him.

Joel sucked in a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He’d barely gotten an inch past his tip, facing more resistance than he’d felt in a long, long time, and you were wet, but so tight. He was big but not so massive as that. He couldn’t fathom what you were saying was true.

“That…fratboy fuckstick you went out on a date with?”

“Didn’t think you even saw me leave.”

Joel withdrew, gripped your hips even tighter, then drove his cock to nestle three solid inches inside your cunt. It was extra snug, but he made sure to try to loosen you up with a couple short, shallow thrusts and a hand gradually drifting down between your legs. Of course he saw you.

The circles on your clit and slow-growing movements may as well have been kerosene in your veins. With what limited range of motion you had in that grey, compact space, you let out a sigh and dug the fingers of your free hand into the closest scrap of fabric beside you. Joel’s own touch gradually moved from your hip to drag your hand behind your back, clasping his. He fucked in deeper

“So that’s who this is for?” Thumbing your skirt.

“Y-Yeah,” you lied.

“Wanted to send naughty pics in the schoolgirl getup?”

“Yes,” you lied again. You closed your eyes when Joel sank his cock even deeper and made you stretch inside.

“‘Atta girl,” he praised.

It might’ve been the first he’d validated you in your life.

“Grippin’ this cock extra tight, ain’t ya, sweet girl?”

Never in a million years would you have imagined it’d come this late—or leave Joel’s mouth in a way like that.

‘Elastic’ wasn’t a word you’d ever used to describe your body, either. Frankly, there was no need for it to be; every one of your partners before had been average-sized, and every other object that went inside you, too, had almost always been a comfortable squeeze between your walls. Outside of maybe your first time and a once-off awkward hookup now and again, you were never forced to feel a stretch to this degree. Joel felt huge moving inside you.

He was nearing your cervix and still nowhere close to the base of his cock. Meanwhile, you were stuffed to the brim, saturated with arousal and his spit, and practically keening at every stab of his hips. You couldn’t reach back because Joel’s fingers were still enmeshed with yours, gripping them hard behind your back. As wore down, fucked out, and desperate as you already were, you were less than only a second away from asking him to ease up.

And then he stopped.

Joel pulled out, let go, and pressed onto the old washing machine, where you heard his touch echo through metal.

He was leaning against it. You were about to turn around. Before you could, though, you felt his form mold into yours—this time not in it, but on it, as he drew closer and once more reached into the space where you were stuck.

“Can you be brave for me, baby?” Joel murmured.

“Wh—” you started, soft, only to feel the words plucked straight from your lungs as Joel leaned his body inside. Carefully, and with concerted effort, it seemed, he was trying to squeeze his way into the O-shaped hole of the washing machine, snaking his arm around your torso.

Pinching your finger again. Breathing just gently enough for his exhales to tickle at your shoulders and your neck.

“Can you be brave?” he repeated, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him so soft-spoken, or felt him so close.

You nodded, not knowing why.

Without another word, your stepdad pinched the digit even tighter and yanked it out from where it was stuck.

It all happened so fast. Joel freeing your finger, squeezing it tight, helping you out of that hot and crowded space while your legs gave way like mush beneath your weight—and your hand throbbing in pain. You’d never thought a single finger could cause a feeling as strong as that, but it stung like hell. You almost raked your nails through the man’s arm when he tried to hold you back, holding you up just as well as you stood.

“Joel!” you screeched, like the whole thing was his fault.

You flexed your hand and wanted to sob. You could feel the streaks of pain start to claw up your wrist, were just about to shove Joel aside and wallow in agony, when at length, he did something strange and unexpected again.

This time, he lifted your index to his mouth and kissed it.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. Coming from Joel, it hardly even seemed affectionate. His lips were so warm and firm and decidedly unacquainted with anything approaching a threat of tenderness that his act read almost aggressive. He let your finger rest loosely against his mouth, and he kissed it again, while his eyes burned holes into yours.

‘You’re okay’ came out muffled against your hand.

“You’re okay—hey—baby, you’re good. Don’t cry.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears had started to form. You blinked and felt one trickle down your cheek. With the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, Joel brushed his thumb against that lone trail of moisture. He didn’t cup your face, hold you close, or stroke your cheek in the seconds that followed, though he did keep kissing you.

Or, rather, it—your finger.

Joel didn’t have to care for you at all. He just feared he might’ve pulled on your hand too hard in getting you out.

‘You’re okay’ was being mumbled away like a fractured refrain, touch descending gently to your hip, and his eyes grew softer by the second, surely he had to be thinking it.

Sinking inside you, again. He was standing; your hips were tilted to his, and your ass was pressing flat against the front of the washing machine. All it took was an inch or two off the ground and your limbs hanging limply around his hips for Joel to fuck back into you. He sucked on your finger so hard you feared the skin might actually bruise—a hand hickey, of all fucking things—and when his grip tightened on your side, you knew he felt it too.

His teeth succeeded his lips in an instant, and he was biting, gnawing pathetically as a groan shuddered through his chest. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said the sound was veering perilously close to a whimper.

Fully sheathed inside you, Joel Miller didn’t seem to care. His lids fell like lead across the upper half of his brown, glossy eyes, and the expression behind them was blank.

Safe.

“‘S’alright, baby,” he grunted. Maybe he’d just seen you wince, as he cradled your hand and withdrew another inch, “Keep squeezin’ me, it feels real good. Right here.”

Out of instinct, your gaze drifted down to the spot where his body joined with yours. The sight was hardly a shock, but the feelings it evoked were not—he had you split along two-thirds of his dick, a pretty shelf of belly protruding beneath and gleaming with the arousal he’d drawn out from your body. Tufts of silver and grey littered his skin in every direction, aged muscles tensed with the weight of each thrust, and the warm weathered hand that hadn’t dared touch you once before today was now cupping your chin. Tilting your head closer to him.

“Right here, baby. Look at daddy.”

Wild, unbridled heat flooded your brain in a second. The thing seared the insides of your skull with all the force of a fire and stole the air from your lungs just the same—still, you couldn’t refrain from making a face in disgust.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You shouldn’t have liked it.

His hand ascended your throat in a blink.

“Ain’t that what you want, sweet pea?”

“I—”

Just as you started to answer, though, his cock took a dizzying plunge, hitting exactly the right spot inside you. Like clockwork, your mouth fell open, a whine tumbled out, and Joel took that as his chance to grip your neck even tighter and push your hips against the washing machine, where his height afforded him an easy hold.

“What you want—”

He squeezed harder.

“—what you need—”

You gasped, starved for air. It wasn’t every day a man took your breath away. Not like Joel could, anyway.

“—is me, ain’t it?”

The gaze fixed on your face was alight with desire.

“Bet you miss him somethin’ awful, huh? Been needin’ a man to fill that spot ever since he left, haven’t ya, baby?”

‘He’ required no further clarification. The words stung. You communicated as much by wriggling your hips back and pressing your hand against Joel’s chest, just quit it.

Keep fucking me, but shut the fuck up about my father.

“I don’t miss shit,” you sniffed. Felt the head of Joel’s cock carve a shape somewhere deep inside your body and couldn’t pretend it wasn’t filling a metaphorical void someplace else. You hadn’t got this much attention from a man as many years your senior since…well, ever, really.

You preened beneath his touch. Wanting to feel. Wanting to please. Wanting, more than anything, to be needed.

Joel sated each craving with a simple hand smoothed over your face. His palm moved from your throat to your chin to the hinge of your jaw before coming to rest at the nape of your neck. This time squeezing lightly, bringing your face in close while he fucked you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and your stomach tightened inside you.

“That’s alright,” he said, words hardly above a whisper, “No need to miss that man at all, ‘cause I’m right here.”

For once the assurance came as somewhat of a comfort. You suspected it had something to do with the fact he was balls deep inside you and pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release with each painstaking stab of his cock. You fisted his flannel, holding him there. Spreading your legs, accepting his thrusts, taking each movement with ragged, shallow breaths and moans that blended with his own, you felt your body grow warmer.

Almost febrile beneath him as he tilted your head again.

“Who’s your daddy now?”

You winced, shaking your head. You hated that word.

“Who’s your daddy?”

Joel lowered his hand and began to thumb at your clit. Hot pleasure coursed through you, made you whine at the contact and dig your heels even deeper in his back.

“Who’s your daddy, baby? It ain’t that hard to say.”

But it was. Joel stroking your clit, stuffing you full, ghosting his lips against yours without ever furnishing a kiss, just goading you on with: ‘I know you wanna say it.’ Tough grey stubble teased your mouth with each word.

“I know she needs to cum, sweet girl. Know that poor little pussy’s taken a beating—and she’s done so good for me—but she needs to let it out now. All over me.”

His gaze held yours. You couldn’t turn away.

An unmistakable tenderness pervaded that look, and it didn’t seem keen to depart. No matter how tightly you pursed your lips, made fists in his shirt, or choked his cock between your walls in fluttering, desperate pleas, the man remained calm. Attentive. The eyes didn’t stray.

“It’s okay to say it.”

“C-Can’t—”

“Sure can. Be the easiest thing you ever do—D-A-D-D—”

“Please. Please.”

You hardly even knew what you were asking for at this point, only beholden to that big, swollen something in your tummy starting to give way beneath the push of Joel’s cock. Tightening up, leaking out, practically drooling down the length of this man who seemed relentless in his current pursuit. Two more circles on your clit and you were keening, whimpering pathetic as ever:

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“Say it now. Who’s it for?”

Above you, Joel’s teeth gleamed in a smile—or a snarl, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was the pleasure, the concomitant pain of having to contain this desperation while his thrusts sped up. You were bouncing on him, getting fucked against the washing machine in the raw and terrible central Texas heat wearing a sheen of sweat and a set of clothes that no longer fit your body, but that was just fine. You were okay. Joel was here, and he was holding your head, lips hovering less than an inch away.

“Who’s. Your. Daddy?” His words were slow. Coarse. Spilling into your mouth with every short puff of breath.

You couldn’t take it. You felt a band of pressure come to a head in your belly and the brush of Joel’s cock making its rounds in and out of your swollen cunt, pushing hard, and you knew that you’d had enough. He knew it, too.

“Y-You.”

“Who?”

“Joel.”

“Who?”

Your wet, pearly slick rang a deafening pitch. Enough.

“You, daddy! Daddy—please, fuck—I-I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Gonna cum for me? Make a mess of your old man?”

“Make a m-mess— yes, daddy, yes—” you slurred.

Joel drove his cock, fully coated in you, down to the hilt. He captured your lips in a kiss and didn’t even mind your mouth was whining, hissing, whimpering its filthy pleas for him to fuck a nice, big orgasm out from your body.

“—want yours inside,” you added, without realizing it.

“Sweet girl…” Joel groaned.

You didn’t know what you were asking him for. How badly he wanted it, too. His cock dragged in and out of your precious cunt and was barely more safe from the threat of its grip when you spasmed, at the last. Joel should’ve expected no less, after all the time he’d spent teasing and edging, then begging you gently, in grunts, ‘Cum for daddy, baby. Let me have it, that’s it, good girl.’ Still, somehow, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.

When you squeezed your eyes shut and kissed him back—that was all it took. When you clenched on his cock, gave the front of his shirt a tug, locked your ankles about his hips so you could more properly increase that friction by fucking him back, grinding in place, he feared he might fairly make an irreparable, unforgivable mistake.

And when the whites of your eyes appeared again—eyelids fluttering open while your lips were glossed with his spit and a lazy smile—and said what you said next, he sensed that his fate was sealed. The old man was fucked.

“Cum inside me, daddy. Please.”

Joel couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He shuddered, then flooded your insides with rope after rope after rope of his spend, burying his face in your neck and taking your hips in his hands like a looser grip might lose you to him forever. He fucked his cum deep, deeper, darlin’ don’t move, can’t lose a drop, baby, please, he let out a whimper that made your walls pulse again. You felt him fill you to the brim and keep rutting his hips. Your body and his were shaking by the last of it.

And when he was finished, Joel dropped a kiss along your limp, glistening lips. He slid you back on the metal. By the expression on his face, it was plain to see he was loath to withdraw, but he had to. That tender little hiss and the sounds of your shared fluids trickling out were all the impetus he needed to act quick. As soon as he’d pulled out, Joel was back leaning against the washing machine—tilting your hips back a little, then lowering his sweaty, handsome head to the spot between your legs.

The wrinkles to the sides of his eyes grew more pronounced when he smiled. A happy grin, plastered across his lips, would have struck you as almost smug, were it not for the look of sheer adulation that followed it.

Joel was enthralled, watching his cum leak out of you. He kissed your thighs, flickered his gaze to your own, briefly, then damn near sank his nose inside the place he was watching before your fingers stopped him cold.

It was your body, after all. He had already had his fill.

Hardly knowing what came over you in that moment, you sank two fingers inside your wet, drooling hole and watched the eyes of the man beneath you go wide. He soaked in that sight completely: you pushing his cum back in, drawing it out, using the viscous white liquid as a lubricant of sorts before releasing a pleased little sigh.

Joel closed his mouth reluctantly. It took him more than a second to tear his eyes from that place, but when he did, the motions were quick to grow assured, by turns.

As if remembering something.

In a second, the innocent smile you’d seen before was being infiltrated, slowly, by a look you couldn’t place. Joel’s grin morphed from gentle to contented to plainly enthused and beaming ear-to-ear with a conceited glint. With his finger, he tugged your panties back into place.

“Baby—” he started, only to be cut off lightning-quick.

“What? What is it?”

His smile stretched even wider. By that act alone, you were half-tempted to forget the events of the last hour and set your jaw in a scowl. You looked down, unamused.

“What?”

“It’s just…” The man trailed off, and as he did, his gaze descended with it—straight down to your bare pantyline.

You cast a look there too—“What the fuck is it, Joel?!”

At that, two brown eyes flitted back up to you.

“I thought I asked for neon pink underwear, baby.”

Your breaths slowed. His gaze didn’t waver. Your heart came to a standstill in your chest, and you were amazed you had even half your present willpower then to speak.

“Wait, Joel, wh—”

“Shame you couldn’t get around to filmin’ today. Had me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that milk and honey stuff.”

You nearly choked on your spit. Joel kept grinning.

“You’re—”

The guy. That fucking subscriber. The one who’d paid almost $500 in commissions in the last month alone.

You stared at Joel with eyes as wide as saucers, and were about to press on, when you heard the front door to the house shriek back on its hinges. Two sets of footsteps followed it, and their entry inside was loud.

Immediately, Joel rose to his feet. It seemed that grin wasn’t meant to stay long on his lips, because the next thing you knew, he was dropping a kiss somewhere soft and sweaty on your face and flipping your skirt back into place, holding his index up to his lips and stepping away. Your mouth twisted into a frown but stayed zipped out of sheer necessity. Seeing this, and likely unable to help himself, your gross, depraved, grinning old man leaned back in and planted his hands on either side of your hips on the washing machine. His nose nudged into your own.

“Between us—” he began, slowly.

“Get fucked,” you finished for him.

Joel nodded his assent, smirk faint. He cast a look over his shoulder, and, hearing what sounded like your mother’s footsteps drawing closer, lowered his voice.

Rubbing his thumb under your chin, making you tip your head back to meet his for one final look—then a kiss:

“You keep my secret, I keep yours, alright?”

—

Note: I’ve never done a real writing challenge before, but hopefully this fic will work for #hotdilfsummerchallenge !!! @hellishjoel this is such a fun ass idea & i hope you enjoy❣️

[star-sim]

"is your girlfriend single?" ☆ enha hyungs

☆ youtuber! non-idol! bf! enhypen hyung line x fem! reader ☆ summary: when your youtuber boyfriend finally shows you for the first time to his audience. ☆ genre: fluff, jealous and whipped boys... kinda dumb lol ☆ warning(s)? no! just fluff!! and attempts at humor :( ☆ reblogs and comments are appreciated :D also not proofread lol

maknae ver.

heeseung ☆

i like to think that hee would be a gaming youtuber

posts maybe like once or twice a week, has about 3 million subs

he sometimes likes to stream, just to get to know his fanbase better and to just hang out

normally he texts you to let you know abt it, but today he totally forgot

you came home from work and you saw his office door closed + heard the sound of his loud ass keyboard clicking.... my guy beats that shit UP atp

that was normal tbh

you were probably like "my little keyboard warrior ❤️" and went to go wash up in your shared bathroom and bedroom

you were going to just pop into his office, say hi and maybe give him a kiss

meanwhile... heeseung is taking a break from gaming, just talking to the chat

he definitely didn't notice you coming home... probably bc of that bigass head set that's creating a fucking valley in his skull... (btw have u seen those videos where gamers take off their headphones and they have a dent on their head 😭)

anyways you open the door, ready to say hi, but heeseung is visibly surprised, looking like a deer in headlights

you look at him, then at the back of his monitor, then back at him, then at his monitor

"should i come back another time...?"

hee's already taking off his headphones, leaning back into his gaming chair--

"no no no!" he grins, glancing at the chat, which is now blowing up

"who is that?"

"yooooo"

"HEESEUNG IS THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND?"

"gf reveal?"

"she sounds so pretty"

heeseung pats his lap, "cmere, baby, i wanna introduce you to the stream"

of course you comply <3

you take a seat on his lap, his arms slithering around your waist

it takes you a moment to take in what's on his screen: obv there's your reflections, then the chat boxes and announcement pop-ups

the way that the blue-purple light of his screen reflects onto your skin, casting a glassy gleam over your eyes-- and the way that your pretty eyes look at the monitor so curiously, lips parted ever-so-slightly-- made you look SO beautiful

heeseung himself has to angle his head in a way so that he could see your face properly.... and a soft grin unknowingly began to spread over his lips

he presses a soft kiss to the crook behind your ear, before looking back up at the stream

"hey guys," there's a clear smile in his voice, "this is my girlfriend, [name]."

you take that as your queue to introduce yourself

honestly, you're a little shy and softer-spoken now, bc you're not in front of a camera nearly as often as your boyfriend is, "hi.. i'm [name], and... uhm..." you give the webcam a clumsy, awkward (but very cute) smile, "i'm hee's girlfriend"

the chat blows up immediately

"SHE'S SO CUTE"

"i've never seen heeseung look so soft"

"[name] you're so pretty :)"

"this might actually be one of the most beautiful women i've ever seen im not joking guys"

"chat is she real... bc why is she actually GLOWING oh my lord🧎🧎🧎"

those comments make you a lil shy and bashful, and you feel your cheeks kinda warm

you just giggle reading them, unable to contain your smile

heeseung, on the other hand, is feeling prideful

"that's right, guys," he squeezes your waist, puffing his chest out, "my girlfriend is so beautiful" "i know i'm so lucky to have such a wonderful woman as my girlfriend"

he's overjoyed by all the compliments you're getting... it makes him so happy that he can show you off and that everyone gets to see that YOURE his gf

in fact, he's reading a lot of them aloud, and following it up with "i agree with you"

like he'll read "'[name] is absolutely stunning, like wow..." and heeseung nods and is like "i agree with you, xXdragontittysucker23Xx 🤓☝️"

but then a comment stops him in his tracks...

"heeseung is your girlfriend single by any chance?"

his face drops immediately

"hey... who in the chat asked if [name] is single?!"

he's actually offended, putting a dramatic hand on his chest and scoffing

"how rude!" heeseung pouts against your shoulder when even more of his viewers begin saying similar things

"[name] are you free this weekend"

"hi [name] (i'm 6'2 and drive a lamborghini and save orphans every weekend)"

"heeseung get out i'm trying to have a moment with your girlfriend"

you're actually such a cutie, becuase you're just giggling as more and more comments come trying to rizz you up

"what do you have to say for yourself?" heeseung asks you half-sulkily and half-defensive, pushing his face into your neck and pouting

your eyes glimmer with a little mischief, wanting to tease your boyfriend a little bit

"i mean... " you pretend to think

and then someone named jungkooksleftpinkytoe562 says in chat "please [name] i'll rock your world so hard just one chance"

you laugh

"jungkooksleftpinkytoe562, i'm free tomorrow at 5, you should take me out on a date" and you wink playfully and laugh again

chat blows up like

"WOAHHHH"

"AYOOO????"

but if there's anyone that's scandalized, it's heeseung lee himself

"HEY! HEY! WHAT?!!?!" he's squinting and scrolling so fast in the chat to find jungkooksleftpinkytoe562 that you can hear the scroll-wheel oh my god

"you guys better back off," heeseung says, pulling you even closer. he presses a kiss against your shoulder, then gently clutching your face to kiss your chin, "she's mine!"

heeseung's eyes narrow, "especially you, jungkooksleftpinkytoe562..." your bf gives you a quick peck on the lips, "i'll kick your ass if i see you flirting w my girlfriend again >:("

im gonna be fr... none of his viewers care

in fact they keep flirting with you

and the fact that you keep playfully flirting back adds fuel to heeseung's flames

but he'd never blame you <3

he's pouty after the stream lol (but he knows it's all in good fun) so kiss his cute lil pouty lips

i think this definitely goes viral on twitter

like #[name] or #heesgf trends for a good 48 hours

jay ☆

my guy is a cooking channel

i think jay would try to be more private abt his personal life to his viewers, just given the nature of his content

though, it's no secret that jay has a s/o to his viewers, and i think they'd know your name

but yk how at the end of cooking videos, after the chef cooks, they try the food...

i think in a few of his videos, there's clips of you and him trying his food, but while jay is usually in-frame, you're either behind the camera or just barely in the frame so that most people have really only heard your voice and seen your hands

the comments are usually tame, like

"[name]'s voice is so pretty!"

"i want someone to look at me the way jay looks at [name]"

"my parents!"

but one day

for one of his subscriber milestone specials

let's say 2million subscriber special

jay does a cooking challenge

it's "cooking a meal but BLINDFOLDED"

he starts the video explaining the parameters of the challenge and what he's doing, etc

but then he reveals that you're behind the camera to supervise him

obv bc he's in a kitchen with ovens and knives and he's blindfolded...

throughout the video, you kind of just guide your bf

"omg jay move your hand or you'll cut your fingers off!"

"turn on the stove-- no the other way!!"

at some point, jay is cutting up onions

and normally he's a pro at it, and you never question his abilities

but because he can't see and he's using the knife so quickly, you're freaked out like "babe!!!!!! that doesn't seem safe!!! 😰😰😰"

so then behind the camera, you're heard fussing about it and it's cute lol

then you take it upon yourself to help him

you go behind him, slithering your arms around him so that your hands were places on his

you guide his hands to cut the onions slowly

"babe, i got this," jay says, but tbh he's not complaining because he gets to be close to you :D

"nonono i don't want you to die!!" you say, and it seems like you're more concentrated on cutting the onions than him

this is the first time that your face is in-frame for one of his videos lol

when you're done, jay tries to kiss your head, but he can't find you so you raise yourself on your tippy toes for him

its a quick peck but you giggle and place a kiss behind his ear

when he's done cooking his little dish, it's time to garnish and decorate it with sauce

jay's plan is to use the sauce to write "happy 2 million subscribers" on the dish

but because he's blindfolded, the writing is so fucked up

it's completely unintelligable and just a glob of sauce 😭

and then he tries to draw a dick on it but it's also super fucked 😭😭😭😭

when you see this, you burst out laughing so hard

and this makes jay laugh too

anyways the video goes up, it's very cute and well-received

now.... the youtube comments are still tame

"[name]'s laugh is so cute!"

"i screamed when she popped into frame... she's gorg"

"the way that [name] looks at jay when he's blindfolded is everything"

"[name] looks so beautiful"

but uh

it gets crazy on twitter

as it always does

"jesus fucking christ if a woman like that wrapped her arms around me and kissed me i would fall to my knees and die happily"

"jay CANNOT handle allat.... but i can!!!! me next!!"

"god... when is it my turn to have a pretty woman kiss me"

"[name] i'll treat you so well PLEASE"

i think the clip of you helping jay cut the onions kinda goes viral, just because you look so attractive doing it

like the way you popped into frame as you rolled up your sleeves and the way you smirked at jay's inability to see... ZOOWEE MAMA!!!!!

and i think this eventually makes its way onto tiktok

like pretty standard videos of ppl being like "JAY'S GIRLFRIEND HELLO???" with comments like "she's so beautiful," etc

jay honestly thinks its funny

he knows that people are joking and he sometimes actually plays along with them

he loves that people are appreciating your beauty (but he loves even more that he's the only one that actually gets you)

when you first go viral, you're kinda shy about it, but jay just pulls you close, kisses your cheek, squishing them, and says "my baby is so beautiful"

youre like "jayyyyyy stoopppp"

he only chuckles and starts to pepper your face with more kisses, despite your lil whines for him to stop

but then while you two are cuddling one night, you laying on his chest with your face in his neck

a tiktok appears on his fyp

its just some teenager being like "hi does anyone know if jay's girlfriend is single?" while showing off a black BMW in the background... and then jay's directly tagged in it

he takes this as his opportunity to strike back

he stitches that tiktok, and makes his own tiktok in response

it's just a really short video where jay shows you all snuggled up against him completely silent before he just says "No, she is not single. 😐."

the caption's like "i'm taking [name] out on a date tomorrow shhh don't tell her"

everyone thinks it's really sweet tbh

jake ☆

truthfully i think jake would be into youtube commentary

something like danny gonzalez or jarvis johnson

he looks at troom troom videos and makes fun of them lowk 😭

speaking of, troom troom or troom troom - adjacent content usually has crazy ass lifehacks

so for one of his videos jake is testing out troom troom life hacks

and for one of them, he has to drill a hole in a skateboard or something and put pasta noodles in it idk i'm pulling this out of my ass but its not surprising if this is a legitimate troom troom life hack

unlike heeseung and jay, jake's viewerbase doesn't rlly know about you

again, given the nature of his content, jake never rlly found it necessary to mention his personal relationships

anyways jake is in the middle of your living room floor drilling a hole into a skateboard and putting spaghettie in it when you come home from work and see that shit

jake is in the middle of talking to the camera but the moment the door cracks open he trails off

he gives you that smile-- the one that a puppy gives when their owner catches them doing something they shouldnt aw

when you take in the sight before you, you let out a laugh, not noticing the camera rolling

you place your things down and slink toward your boyfriend

"what's going on here, jakey?" you ask him with a cocked brow, loving the way he chuckles nervously

you crouch down beside him, poking the skateboard-spaghetti abomination with your foot

"i'm testing out troom troom life hacks" he sounds defeated lol

anyways you give him a kiss on his cheek and leave him to his own devices

in the final video, your little interruption is only like 15 seconds bc jake cut it down-- but he def keeps the part where you kiss him

HOWEVER.

because jake's audience didn't know he had a girlfriend

they were all like WOAH WHO IS THAT GORGEOUS WOMAN

a few of his fans look at who he's following on instagram, and they find your account

your ig is public, but it's definitely small and personal

they find pictures of you and jake doing cute couple things, a lot of mirror selfies, matching costumes, and cute pictures that you take of jake

but...

they also find your own personal pictures

ones of you in a bikini at the beach, ones of you with the golden sun on your face, ones showing off your outfit and hair, ones of you in the morning, ones of you being a baddie

and lets not mention jake in the ig comment sections hyping you up like a teenage boy like "YOURE SO HOT [NAME] 🔥🔥🔥🔥"

jake and you see all the comments and tweets about you

so jake decides to take it upon himself to clarify everything

he posts a picture on instagram of you and him with the caption "yes, that's my girlfriend"

safe to say that it becomes his top post LMAOAAO

his ig comments are flooded with support

"you guys are so cute"

"i'm glad to see jake have someone that he loves"

etc

YOUR ig comment section on the other hand?

flooded with support

and thirst

HELP

his fans are respectful but they REALLY love to compliment you

"woahhh you look so good in this one!"

"gorgeous 😍"

"[name] will you marry me?"

but i do think a few are outright insane omg

"[name] you're my sunshine in the ran, the tylenol when i'm in pain, when it's burning hot on summer days you're exactly what i need"

i think they pull out poetic shit omg

like shit like

"the memory of you is a tapestry I had decided to wrap myself in until it suffocated me, to such extent that in the morning, people will not find my body, but a new silhouette woven within its threads"

"there is a city in my heart where you are its only population"

"if i could remake universe, i would replace you as the moon amongst the stars after your time, so i may gaze upon you every night"

jake is NEVER escaping

you appreciate the hype

but jakey?

he loves that you're being appreciate but YOU'RE HIS

WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE AND WHY DO THEY THINK THEY HAVE A CHANCE W U

"jakey they're just being nice"

"no they're trying to STEAL YOU"

like a day later he posts a picture of you on his instagram with the caption "she's mine btw"

his comments DO NOT CARE 😭😭😭

when someone comments

"jake is your gf single and can i take her out on a date"

jake straight up responds

"NO."

what a cutie

sunghoon ☆

i actually don't think sunghoon would be a YOUTUBER youtuber

instead i think he'd be a famous ice skater, but he has YOUTUBE interviews and is active on social media

definitely the type of athlete that's very personable

like sunghoon is def in touch with his fanbase and interacts with them on twt and stuff

his fanbase knows that he has a gf, but that's basically the limit

anyways sunghoon is doing one of those "WIRED answered the web's most searched questions"

you're actually in the studio with him during the interview, kinda there for support

the questions are tame like

"sunghoon park height" "sunghoon park winter olympics 2018" "where was sunghoon park born" etc

sunghoon's killing it

until one of the last questions on the board is "does sunghoon park have a girlfriend?"

he immediately lights up

"i do have a girlfriend!" he says, looking off-set at you, "her name's [name] and she's the most beautiful woman i've ever met"

you chuckle quietly at his comment, flashing him a pretty smile

sunghoon continues- "she's actually here with me today" and he points to you, making the cameraman pan over to you, who is sitting off the set

you just give the camera a thumbs up

you thought that would be the end, but sunghoon asks, "baby, do you want to do this interview with me?"

ofc you agree

he makes u sit on his lap lol even when the camera crew is bringing another chair for you

instead of answer more questions sunghoon just talks about your relationship the entire time

he's giving an entire history lecture about your relationship

you don't say much, but you listen to him intently

when this interview goes up

a lot of his fans make edits of it

sunghoon is already known as a quiet typa guy, but when he talks for like 2 minutes straight about your relationship everyones like "oh god this guy really likes his girlfriend 😭"

in fact

the official interview cuts down sunghoon's tangent about you to 2 minutes, when the original clip was actually 10 minutes

i like to believe that WIRED released an uncut version of his tangent 😭

his fans make short edit videos like "sunghoon being whipped for [name]" or "sunghoon really likes his gf"

i think his fans also make edits of YOU

even though you're honestly in a very short clip of his interview

the way you look at him and listen so intently is SO GOOD

like you were definitely giving him 'the look' as he talked abt your relationship yk?

that once-over, maybe a little lip bite, MMMMM SO GOOD

now....

ik i said that heeseung was the keyboard warrior but like... i think sunghoon is the real one

he's out here fighting BATTLES with his keyboard oml

when stan twitter sees this.... sunghoon starts to fight them

there's tweets like

"the more i listen to sunghoon talk about his gf i more i feel like i'm falling for her"

"the woman that you are, [name]..."

"when she looks at the camera i feel shy"

"omg SHE WANTS ME"

sunghoon gets petty OH MY GOD

he responds to all the tweets about you

like

"she does not want you 😐." "you have no chance with her. 😐." "too bad she's mine 😇"

it's def in a playful joking way and it's really funny, but sunghoon is out here defending your honor

i think at some point sunghoon stops responding with words and just begins responding with pictures

someone tweets "sunghoon is your gf single"

and he straight up just responds with a picture of him staring blankly at the camera

LIKE HE'S DRILLING HOLES THROUGH THE CAMERA WITH HIS EYES

an absolute cutie if i do say so myself

on valentines day he posts a picture of him holding your hand to be extra petty lol

maknae ver.

[allpiesforourown]

Superstar Luo Binghe au. All the directors beg him to be in their movies because his fame will immediately assure success for anything they make. He’s handsome, charming, dedicated, and most of all, extremely talented. He even does his own stunts!! Women love him, and men who say they hate him will still watch his movies so they can figure out how to be more like him. 

The only weird thing about Binghe as an actor is that he refuses to star in romantic films. He won’t kiss anyone, won’t pretend to date someone on screen, won’t even let another actor take over his role for the scenes he doesn’t want to do. His reason? He’s completely loyal to his husband.

Everyone thinks it’s stupid, obviously. You aren’t “cheating” by pretending to love someone else, it’s literally your job! Luo Binghe still refuses and says even he’s not good enough an actor to make anyone believe he could ever love someone other than Yuan-ge.

His fans hate this mysterious Yuan-ge. Because of his (probably insecure and jealous) spouse, all of Binghe’s fangirls cant see him sweep some y/n character off their feet. It’s even worse because they don’t know anything about this guy. Whenever someone asks to see or learn about Binghe’s husband, the star says he’ll never reveal Yuan-ge to the public, because he’s too beautiful and he doesn’t want everyone falling in love with him. 

People kind of run with the idea that obviously this guy must be a total weirdo who Binghe is embarrassed to be seen with. That has to be the explanation, because no matter how perfect someone is, how can they have such a chokehold on THE LUO BINGHE??

Then, one day, years after Luo Binghe’s initial rise to fame…. He goes on a talkshow. With his husband Shen Yuan. 

Obviously EVERYONE tunes in. No one uses TVs anymore bc of the internet, but just for this show, viewer ratings are the highest theyve ever been. Everyone wants to know what the fuss is all about with this guy to have Luo Binghe so down horrible. 

And Shen Yuan isn’t a weirdo. He’s also not some pretty yesman. He makes jokes that make the audience burst into laughter. He’s opinionated, which is really refreshing when every other celebrity stays neutral on every topic to avoid losing fans. He’s polite, but he’s not a pushover. He’s likeable, but he’s not a try-hard about it. Referencing memes makes him an instant hit with the younger generations, and the calm gentle way he talks makes him a hit with the older ones. All of a sudden everyone is going, okay we see why Luo Binghe is obsessed with him. 

Except… while shen yuan was making jokes and charming everyone, Luo Binghe was at his side, pathetically pawing at his husband for attention. The actor keeps whining every two minutes to be reassured yuan-ge still likes him. Whenever Shen Yuan compliments the host, Binghe looks like he’s about to cry. Whenever Luo Binghe jealously wraps his arms around shen Yuan everyone watching just rolls their eyes. Seeing them together people realize… shen yuan is the one that’s out of Luo Binghe’s league.

In just one hour public opinion goes from ‘no one can be worth binghe acting like that for’ to ‘luo binghe is so annoying, let shen yuan talk!!’ 

The next day someone finds shen yuan’s twitter and it blows up. He has his own fan pages now. There’s no pictures of him online other than the footage from the talkshow, so the fan accounts just post that over and over again. Shen yuan retweets a post about him with the caption “i never realized she was holding a plate of corn in this scene” and everyone loses their mind. Everything he says immediately goes viral bc that’s luo binghe’s attic wife.

People start nagging Binghe to post about Shen Yuan bc theyre so attached after his one and only publicized appearance. Binghe is super possessive, but yuan-ge tells him not to worry, so he relents and posts pictures of him and shen yuan on vacation. They’re together, holding hands… but shen yuan’s face and body are blurred out. It’s HORRIFYING. He looks like an eldritch monster bc luo binghe refuses to let anyone look at his yuan-ge in a swim suit, go away you perverts!! His instragram is now just full of pics of shen yuan where his eyes are blacked out so noone else can see how pretty they are. It’s nightmare fuel

Shen Yuan is unfortunately too unbothered to post pictures of himself. Everyone’s tired of Luo Binghe for “hogging shen yuan all to himself” when Shen Yuan is practically an internet celebrity now. 

People go to watch movies and their theatre conversations sound like this:

“Oh, Luo Binghe’s in this one!”

“Who?”

“You know Shen Yuan’s annoying husband?”

“OH THAT GUY..”