#but I am older and have a different POV

[intramoon]

We are so back with Brutally Soft!! ⤷ story work in progress with me trying some new stuff we'll see how it goes!

[starry-bi-sky]

(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)

...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.

She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.

Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.

The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.

Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.

He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.

He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.

But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.

And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.

His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.

Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.

"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.

"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more

Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"

Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.

On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.

And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.

Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.

Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?

She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.

Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."

She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?

Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."

"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."

Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."

The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.

She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.

But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.

"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.

Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."

Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.

(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)

"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."

"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."

"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"

Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."

Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."

It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.

"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.

Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.

She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.

"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."

(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)

(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)

Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.

Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."

With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.

[writerunnamed]

note: This is something I've wanted to write for a while but I am well aware that not everyone will be into it. There are a few stories I want to tell that aren't the norm so I decided to start this nameless blog to tell them. I am not tagging anyone, if you find it then you find it. xo Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, Joel spits on the 😸, boobie play, really inappropriate dirty talk, an unused sex toy [will make an appearance in another chapter], female masturbation, daddy kink, unfit parent) 5.6k word count masterlist • series masterlist • part 2

He takes up so much space, and it wasn’t just physically. He took up space emotionally, mentally. Mentally most of all. Your thoughts always drifted back to him. Cyclical. An elliptical pattern making him the top of every list you’d go through in your head. He seemed to know it too, in a stoic, quiet, largely unsettling way. Older, attractive men tended to do that. 

It started during that in-between time, when summer, losing your job, and having to move back home pushed you to figure out what the fuck you actually wanted to do with your life seemed to come together like the planets aligning. The precipice of a turning point, a ticking clock counting down the days until your childhood bedroom would be turned into a gym, or an office, or a guest bedroom. The lukewarm welcome from your mother would ice over and you’d really have to get your shit together. 

Your mother was what people who didn’t know her would call ‘a free spirit’, what you called her, was a fucking mess. 

Your earliest memories consist of having to remind her to buy milk or to pay the bill because the electricity had turned off while watching cartoons in front of the tiny, living room tv. You’d had to remind her, in not so many words, that she was the mother, and you were the child. 

To your friends, she was the cool mom. The party mom. Your house was the place to be because she didn’t ask questions, she left her cigarettes unattended and didn’t mind if a few went missing. She kept the bar cart stocked, even if there was nothing but flies in the cupboard and nothing but half-empty condiment bottles in the fridge. Your friends loved it. 

She flirted with the boys your age, she gave sex tips to the girls. 

You smiled when they congratulated you on having the cool mom, and when they all went home, you retreated and pretended to be happy. 

Joel settled her down. Met her in a bar and moved in quick. He came into the picture when you were fifteen and you were almost sure he’d be just like the rest of the lovers she’d taken over the years. You’d given the whole thing six months. Half a year for him to see what a fucking disaster she was. Six months to be a fucking creep, to cheat or get cheated on. 

The only differences you could clock at first were that he was self-employed, and marginally better looking than his predecessors.

He was firmer though, less malleable than the others she’d brought around, he seemed immune to her charms and that only inflamed her. It made her desperate for his approval and his attention. She would throw a tantrum, or play one of her mind games but he’d never rise to her bait. He was patient for the most part, until he hit his breaking point and his temper reared its head. A temper only she seemed to bring out in him. 

To you, it was pathetic. 

He didn’t try with you though, there was no flattery or strong hand, only a silent respect. In a sense, he treated you as the adult, and her as the child. It worked for you, if he’d expected you to call him dad he would have been laughed at mercilessly and he seemed to know this. 

The disturbing part was his respect and his healthy avoidance of you worked its own kind of magic. It made him an enigma, made you curious as to what he got out of the whole thing. A home, sure. A woman who was obsessed with him, yes. Sex–yes. You heard it enough for it to turn your stomach. By the sounds of it, he knew what he was doing.

The thought sickened the healthy part of your brain. The other part though, the part flooding your body with hormones, making it come to life with curiously intense sexual feelings, that part wanted to know what it was he was so good at. How could he pull those sounds out of anyone? It was easier to imagine him with some faceless woman. 

It was shameful to imagine yourself. 

The thought–although enough to fuel a desperate journey of self-exploration–always filled you with an insurmountable guilt. 

For those first few years you could barely look at him. Your mother took it as a healthy dose of teenage rebellion. That only aggravated you more. She never asked questions, never dug to see what the cause of your obvious distaste for her partner was about and so again, you retreated. He, however, kept to the outs of your path. He followed your lead, he let you control any and every part of all of your interactions. He didn’t ask questions. He kept the lights on. He kept the fridge full. 

He burrowed his way in, whether you liked it or not. 

When you turned eighteen, you moved out. He helped, did his ‘fatherly’ duties and moved you into the apartment, he urged your mother to take you on an extensive grocery trip, spoke to your landlord about the safety of the building. You supposed you should have been grateful, you should have said thank you, given him some sort of acknowledgement that you appreciated his help but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you said your mumbling goodbyes, and promptly closed the door on them. Neither of them complained. 

The euphoria of venturing out on your own had lost its shine depressingly quick. A string of chronically unserious boyfriends came and went, the rent climbed higher than you could keep up with, and while already living paycheck to paycheck, you lost your job. Your cellphone had taken the brunt of your frustration at having to call your mother, begging her to let you come back home while you got back on your feet a little more than two years after you’d left. 

Your teeth gnawed at your lips, your fingernails dug into the skin around your cuticles in the attempt to keep your voice sweet and pleading, in the end it was his voice that you’d heard in the background, telling–no, commanding her to say yes. That he would be your champion twisted at your insides. Maybe a small, healthy part of you hoped he’d put up a fight, tell you that you were too old to be coming back home and that you had to figure it out on your own like an adult. 

A healthy part of you hoped that he’d save you again, only from yourself. Hanging up with a heavy, resigned sigh, you set about starting the trek home, ignoring the swirling mess of annoyance, confusion, and perverse glee in your stomach. 

-

The first few days were spent in a depressive episode, a seemingly inescapable loop of sleeping in late, leaving your room only when the house was empty to raid the kitchen for something to eat, scrolling mindlessly–blindly–on your phone and then staying up way too late only to do it all over again. 

They didn’t bother you, but if the annoyed sighs and narrowed eyes from your mother were anything to go by, the talk was coming soon. After the third day of the cycle, you circumvent it and wake up early-ish to shower and dress in something other than ratty old sweats long forgotten by an ex you couldn’t quite remember. 

You came down to find Joel sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes tracked the lines of you, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. 

Your heart leapt. He should have been at work by now. 

“Good morning.” It came out croaky, your voice almost reluctant to come out. 

“Mornin’.” His hair was slicked back, the gray almost sparkling in the golden light. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. His eyes were so intense, you found yourself stuck in place, like a deer in headlights and that ever present, deep-seeded anger reared its head. It was irrational that he should frustrate you so much with his calm presence. 

“Coffee’s fresh, if you want some.” He jut his chin out to the pot, lowering his eyes to his paper once more. Once his gaze had shifted, you found you could breathe again. You mumbled a thanks and moved to pour yourself a cup, thankful, if unsure why, to focus on something concrete instead of abstract self-reflection.

“Your mama’s gon’ be late tonight. I thought I could pick up a pizza on the way home.” He says it offhand and again, your heart races. 

“Whatever.” You scrunch your face up in annoyance, it sounded like such a bullshit, teen response. He doesn’t comment on it, and that somehow makes it worse. You beat yourself about it as you root around in the fridge for the milk. The cereal you liked was in the top cupboard, and you’re not quite tall enough to reach it. 

You heard his chair scoot back and then suddenly he’s there, beside you, pressed up tight. You follow the long line of his throat as he stares up, reaching the box with ease while one big, warm hand lands on your lower back. He smells like the laundry detergent your mother insists on buying mixed with something else. Manly, smoky, with coffee laced through. Your cunt clenches nonconsensually as he stands there and stares down at you, his whole front pressed against your side, his hand still holding your lower back. Your mouth hangs open, stupidly, and he raises an eyebrow again forcing something to kickstart deep in your gut. 

“You okay there babygirl?” The endearment feels unwholesome.

It triggers something strange, strengthening the underlying conflict for him. There’s a lilt in his tone you don’t like, maybe because deep down you like it too much. Maybe you don’t want to admit that, or analyze anything about what the fuck is happening in your body. In your psyche. 

“Yeah.” You step out of his bubble, barely managing not to trip over yourself in your haste to get away and put a healthy distance between you. 

“Yes. Thank you.” You take a deep breath, pressing your lips together tight in what you hope to God is a neutral expression. 

He lets out a bemused huff through his nose, a mischief in his eyes shining out at you that you’ve never seen directed at you. You’ve seen it used on your mom. You’ve seen her go giggly and flirty whenever he looked at her like that. A half-formed escape plan starts to form but he saves you from the need, he puts his things in the dishwasher, and nods his head in goodbye. 

You practically hold your breath until you hear his truck rumble out of the driveway, and down the street. 

-

You manage to avoid him for a few days, staying out late catching up with friends, or feigning a need for rest. You’ve convinced your mother that your days are now spent job hunting, and for the most part they are. You leave in the morning, avoiding any and all contact and you get home late, creeping up the stairs much like you did in your teens even though you’d really never needed to. Your mother never enforced a curfew, and when Joel joined the picture, he didn’t pry. 

The luck didn’t last though, you got over-confident. He was sprawled out on the sofa, up uncharacteristically late one night when you padded through the house. 

“You’re up late.” You quickly check the accusatory tone, “Don’t you have to get up early?” Better, it comes out more concerned than annoyed and he nods. He wore a threadbare t-shirt, the fabric of it having been through the wash too many times to keep its shape. Light, gray sweats were stretched almost obscenely tight over his spread thighs, pooling at his crotch from being shoved up by the couch. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Come sit, we can watch some tv.” He pats the seat next to him and despite the deep desire to retreat into the Joel-free haven of your bedroom, you cannot seem to disobey him. 

You settle beside him on the couch, a little further away than was necessary. He chuckles softly. 

“I ain’t gonna bite you, girl. Not unless you ask nicely.” 

You pretend you don’t hear it, choosing instead to compartmentalize whatever game he’s playing and stare at the screen. He flips through the channels, settling on one thing for a few minutes before moving to something else until he finds a movie that’s already close to midway. There’s an electricity in the air, something about him galvanizing the space between you, charging it enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end. You frown to yourself, barely paying attention while fighting an increasingly confusing mental battle. Why is it so hard to be around him? Why does he inspire such scorn? Is it scorn at all?

You rub at your eyes, scrubbing your hands down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe the slate clean. 

He’s just a man, a man your mother had chosen and for better or worse they seem to work. She is happy with him and he is seemingly happy with her, why then is it so hard to accept him for what he is? Something slithers around in your brain, something that laughs darkly, something pulsing through the network of thoughts and ideas that threatens to crack open your subconscious and throw it right in your face. 

“Well now, ain’t that somethin’?” You pull your hands away from your face to see a very explicit scene playing out on the screen. Heat floods every inch of your body. 

“Almost looks like she’s enjoyin’ herself.” He leaves it on, and you feel stuck, your body betraying you yet again to see the way the woman on screen moans wantonly while under a very handsome man. You let out a non-committal sound, teetering on the edge of madness. You scold yourself, you are an adult, an adult that has had sex before and this isn’t even real. 

“Looks like fake bullshit to me.” The strength in your voice lends credence to the illusion that you aren’t affected. He laughs, calm and completely at ease and that only pulls the anger to the forefront again. 

“They can’t show the real stuff on these channels. If it were real, he’d be doin’ what she needs.” 

“And what’s that?” It comes out before you can stop it. 

“Well,” He smiles to himself, winning a duel you hadn’t even known you were fighting. 

“If it were real, he’d be pressin’ on her clit, he’d be makin’ sure she felt every inch of him and make her take his cock like a good girl.” You let out a heavy breath, half shocked, half grateful it wasn’t a whimper. 

Warning bells go off in your head, just as a heartbeat starts in your cunt because you can see it. You can see him. His face twisted up in pleasure but cocky, his hips moving, his thumb dipped into your mouth and then swirling around your clit. He smiles at catching you looking at his hands and you want to yell at him. You want to smack him across the face and kick him in the balls for saying something like that to you, his partner's daughter, but you don’t. 

Your body almost catapults you out of your seat. Barely unintelligible words come out, something about needing sleep, about being tired and then you hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell. 

The shower was cold enough to make your teeth chatter, but it did nothing to cool the heat blooming in your core and it was with a terrifying desperation that you ground against your fingers. The slick pooling at the mouth of your pussy was enough to feel even with the water washing everything away except your shame. 

You bit your tongue to keep from moaning out the taboo and entirely inappropriate name you were dying to say out loud. His firm thighs spread on that couch filled your mind, the calloused, work-roughened hands you could practically feel on your hips, on your thighs. You could feel them holding and spreading your legs open so he could make you make those same noises you’d heard over the years. Make you take it like a good girl, his good girl. 

You came with a shudder, sagging against the chilly tile. You warmed the water with a sigh, disappointed and ashamed with yourself, trying, and failing, to put the whole thing out of your mind. 

-

You doubled down on avoiding him after that. 

Your mother worked most of the time but when she was home, things were easier. He reverted to the healthy avoidance, the proverbial disinterest that she didn’t seem to have a problem with. You still heard them some nights, the bed creaking, throaty cries, deep grunts but now they haunted you in a different way. Now you heard his words on that couch and couldn’t help but picture all manner of unsavory things that both disgusted and thrilled you. 

Being unemployed didn’t help. There was nothing to keep you out of the house most of the day, and there were only so many places that would accept you looking for a job in person. 

There was only so much time you could spend with friends too, they had their own lives and jobs and relationships. Too busy to save you from unwanted free time. 

Old habits resurface, and you retreat within yourself while pushing yourself harder. A job would fix things enough to help, you could save up enough money to leave for good and take yourself out of the equation. 

-

The powers that be momentarily take pity on you, and after what seems like a lifetime's worth of job hunting you blessedly get a call back. It’s a part time job, but at this point beggars can’t exactly be choosers. It’s a steady, if insufficient source of income that hadn’t been available to you before. Determined, you buckle down, you channel every guidance counselor you’ve ever had and ace the fuck out of that interview.

It’s not taxing work, but you put your head down and focus with the hope that if you worked hard enough, if you made a good enough impression, made yourself indispensable they’d throw you enough shifts to make up a full time job. 

It helps. Time spent away from the house, from your mothers dried up welcome, from Joel altogether genuinely helps. You feel a bit lighter, less guilty, less prone to imagine the unimaginable. You find comfort in the absence of self-imposed temptation. There is peace in the mindless work, in the life outside of the house that no longer feels like a home. 

It's a double edged sword though, because at the end of every shift, the luck–the peace–runs out. If being at work and out of the house is a respite, returning home only thickens the tension. Time spent outside the house only sharpens the discomfort, clarifies the glaring wrongness of it all when you enter it at the end of the day. What it all is, you won’t name. That way madness lies. Issue is, with every interaction, with every chance encounter in the hallway, or living room, every second spent with him in the kitchen watching his lips touch the rim of his mug the thing inside grows. Parts of him fill the corners of your mind. The curve of his shoulders filling out the flannel shirts he favors. The fullness of his bottom lip when he purses them, something he does while squinting at the paper that you’re almost sure he isn’t aware of. His neck, his hands, the dimple in his cheek when he laughs at something really funny. 

These things jump out, innocent as they may be, but other not so innocent things start to creep in. The bulge in his jeans is a mental mine, it lies in wait and every so often when you think you’ve avoided it, it detonates and you catch yourself staring, both ashamed and so inappropriately curious it eats away at you like acid. 

What you needed was something to fill the emptiness, both emotionally and physically. So you did what any modern, adult woman would do; you bought a sex toy. 

Nothing too crazy, or expensive. After perusing the site for a while you finally settled on a plain, non-threatening dildo. Nothing too big, nothing noisy, just something to be able to focus on, something to use while imagining someone giving you what you need. You ignored that dark thing inside that hissed his name, shooed it away and ordered the package for express delivery. With your mom constantly working, and Joel keeping to himself you figured it wouldn’t be an issue. Neither of them would question a package addressed to you. 

You still aren’t sure whether or not you’d do it all over again had you known the Pandora’s box that little package would open. 

You all but rushed home after work. All day, you’d imagined the relief that toy would bring. You imagined yourself using it in the shower, steam swirling as you took your pleasure. You imagined yourself laying in bed in the safety of the dark, setting a towel down on your chair and riding it to your heart's content. 

Joel’s truck is in the driveway when you pull in, but it’s secondary to the excitement at the chance to sequester yourself with your new best friend and so when you walk into the house, you don’t give him much attention. Until he opens his mouth. 

“You got a package today babygirl. I put it on your bed.” He sits on his spot on the sofa, a funny little smile on his face. A bad feeling swells in your chest, and you look up the stairs before meeting his eyes again. 

“Thanks.” You drop your bag on the little bench near the front door, trying, and failing to keep the nervous feeling out of your voice. He nods, and you make your way up, stopping yourself from taking the stairs two at a time. 

Ice flows through your veins when you see the package is open. 

He’d opened your package, he knew what you’d bought. 

Blood pounds in your ears as you stand there, limbs cold and numb at the realization that he saw it. He saw it. He opened it, and he placed it here, on the very place you fantasized about using it. Sweat beaded on your brow, the bottom of your stomach fell out of your ass as you stood there, barely feeling the soft, worn carpet under your feet. 

“Little small, f’you ask me.” His voice at the mouth of your room made your head twist fast enough to hurt your neck. You hadn’t heard him follow you up the stairs, hadn’t heard him open your door and lean against the frame, arms crossed in haughty amusement. 

“Why would you open my package?” You clutched at it, as though he could forget what he’d seen if you held it tightly enough. 

“I didn’t open it on purpose, I’m expectin’ somethin’ and I didn’t read the name.” He pushes away from the door frame, making his way closer and it’s like the air thins as the space between you shrinks.

“I mean, I could tell you been frustrated, but this doesn’t seem like it’s gon’ help much.” He reaches out, and takes the package from you. You watch him do it, watch him, frozen as he plucks it from your hands and takes the toy out. 

“This all you can take?” He holds it, contemptuously–pityingly. 

You wanted to snatch it out of his hands, the dimming voice of reason urges you to push him out of your room and remind him that he needs to keep a healthy distance but you say nothing, you stand there, and watch him. He puts it all down on your dresser, before stepping a little closer, close enough for you to have to crane your neck up to look into his eyes. 

“No boyfriends around to give you what you want?” His hand comes up, the tips of his fingers sliding across the apple of your cheek, slipping down until his thumb pressed against the cushion of your bottom lip. 

“No one around to give you what you obviously need?” He steps a little closer, until your bodies meet. This is wrong, your mind screams it but your body is frozen under his eyes, under his touch. That part, the frozen part is cheering, it’s running victory laps as it floods your cunt with slick in preparation for something unholy. 

That same, writhing, traitorous thing whispers that this is your chance, the house is empty and your body obeys. You look your fill, you take in the curve of his nose and the furrow in his brow. His eyes are black as a crow's wing, lust-blown and completely focused on your parted lips and your shallow panting. 

Adrenaline spikes and you do something you cannot take back. You rise on your tip-toes and press your mouth to his. 

He hums into it, smiling and once again you get that feeling that you’d made the exact move he’d expected you to. A vague, but fleeting inkling that you were just a pawn on his chessboard. 

At any other time you would have stepped away and repented, ate yourself alive with guilt but his hands pulled you closer, his tongue swiped at the seam of your mouth and you opened up for him. That only made it all the more real, the taste of his tongue in your mouth, feeling his hands lower to hold onto your ass. 

The rational part of you shrinks down to nothing, and that other part, the wrong part–it swells and preens under his hands. He pulls away, and embarrassingly, you chase his mouth in a daze. 

“Oh honey, you’re just dyin’ for it aren’t you?” He herds you towards your tiny bed, the twin mattress that has been the stage for every taboo fantasy about this man, your stepfather. You shoo the word away with a shiver. 

“It’s wrong-” You almost whisper, but you don’t push him away, you let him lay you down in that bed and he laughs. 

“It is, isn't it?” He pulls at the hem of your shirt, you raise your arms for him and the picture of it is wrong, daddy taking off your clothes. The thought, the word,  should disgust you but it only pulls your hands to him. You join in, and pull his shirt up and off, biting your lip at the broadness of him. You take in each freckle, the sprinkling of hair on his chest, the dip of his throat calling out for your tongue like a siren. 

He presses his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth obscenely. Unseemly. 

“You been wantin’ this for a long time, haven’t you babygirl?” He pulls your bra off, and the shock of cold air hardens your nipples. He bites his lip to see it, unable to stop himself from flattening his tongue against a hardened bud. A sound you’ve never let yourself make out loud in this room fills the space between you and that slithering thing luxuriates. 

He moves, languidly, unhurried to the other breast and holds the plump of it in his big hand and sucks at the second bud, sucks as much of the peak as he can into his mouth, breathing through his nose while you slowly spiral into madness.

When he lets go, he presses a kiss to your nipple and his facial hair tickles your skin. 

He pulls your leggings off along with your underwear in one go and the reality of it all hits you when the air hits your soaked core. That’s when the urge to put a stop to it is the clearest, when he kneels between your legs and spreads them wide, stares at the place where he’s already filled a million times in your mind. The place that’s drenched at the mere thought of him. 

“Joel-” You start, but he pushes your legs up, folding you and then he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth slowly, aiming it, a bullseye right on the lips of your cunt. It’s too much, too filthy and you let out a whimper. 

“I think you wanna call me somethin’ else right now.” He undoes his belt and his jeans, keeping his eyes on where his saliva slides down over the open mouth of your cunt, down towards your asshole. He pulls his cock out and part of you shatters. Your eyes flit to the toy sitting on your dresser, your eyes flit to the open door of your bedroom. 

“Don’t worry, your mama ain’t gonna be home for a while.” He smiles, conspiratorially. It's too real, it’s too hypnotic, seeing him there with his cock in his hand while your legs already ache from holding them up and open. He slides the blunt end of it through the mess he’s caused, through his spit and he groans at the sight of it. 

Your heart races so hard to feel him there, that you see the pulse of it in your vision. 

“Deep breath baby.” he warns before slipping inside the tight fist of your pussy, the size of him making you gasp. This is it, there’s no coming back from this and right now, with him seated deep, his groin pressed up tight and the tip of his cock kissing your womb you cannot even think of why you’d ever care.

This is where he's meant to be. This is where you need him. 

“Oh baby, that’s so good huh?” He thrusts shallowly, pulling out a little more than halfway before shoving his hips forward again. You don’t really know how to form words, you don’t know how to take in what’s happening. This is Joel, your step-dad, fucking you in the bed you grew up in. One hand sits heavy on your shin, holding it, the other slides up and holds onto your breast. 

“Look how fuckin’ wet this little pussy is for me,” he moans the words, “you like daddy fuckin’ you?” He thrusts harder and you moan despite the word hitting you in the stomach like a big drop on a rollercoaster. He shouldn’t say that, shouldn’t call himself that, not now. 

“No-” it doesn’t come out like you mean it to, it sounds wrong, like a caress. 

“No? But I think you do-” He leans forward, keeping his pace while pressing his chest to yours, his mouth all but lining up and despite your bullshit protest, you hitch your knees high on his ribs to make room because if he stopped you’d probably die. 

“I think you want me to be your daddy, don’t you baby, it’s okay, I want to be.” He speeds up and the sounds between your legs are so wet, so filthy. 

“You can say it, I want you to say it.” He holds himself up, his elbows caging in your skull and before you can complain or moan or cry he sticks his tongue down your throat again. Your hands finally join the fray and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tight to you. 

“Come on baby, say it for me, tell me how good daddy fucks you.” You moan, closing your eyes while your cunt floods him with wave after wave of slick, enough to drip down your ass and onto your bed, down his balls. Enough for it to soak the curls at the base of him. 

“Look at me when I’m fuckin’ you honey.” His hips speed up and it's hard now, his thrusts making your bounce, hitting a part of you that toy would never touch in a million years. 

You open your eyes, and look at him above you, sweat beading on his hairline. Never has he looked more fucking appealing than he does right then. The word is there, in your mouth and you know it’ll taste sweeter than anything in this world. 

The wrong thing wins.  

“Yes daddy.” You moan it, and the shameful thing sets off fireworks in your being, he smiles, and tucks his head into the damp crook of your neck, feeding his lovely filth right into your ear. 

“That’s my babygirl, that’s it, fuck baby you take it better than your mama.” Something inside recoils at that, but something else, another facet of that fucked up thing inside rejoices.

“Let me hear you say it again, say it when you come.” He licks a hot stripe up your neck. His words are a filthy groan, something to tuck away for later.

He reaches down, pressing his thumb to your clit just like he said on that couch and you keen, the slip and the pressure enough to toss you over the edge with an almost painfully intense orgasm. 

“I’m coming, daddy.” It’s a shuddering whisper as your cunt clenches around him. 

He moves quickly, kneeling between your legs to pull out and then he’s stroking himself over your cunt. It’s still pulsing when he paints it in his come. You catch your breath as he tugs at himself a few more times, milking himself against you with a disturbingly familiar groan. 

The fog clears altogether too quickly. The lights are too bright, you’re naked, and he’s still got his jeans around his thighs while the guilt creeps into your veins, replacing the euphoria. 

What have I done? What have you made me do?

[gguk-n]

Notes & Nitrous (Oscar Piastri x Jeon Jungkook's labelmate!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Face claim- IU

{Jungkook's POV}

Y/N was always nice, that was her personality. She wasn't nice because she wanted to be an idol but she was genuinely nice from the moment I met her. She was the first female solo artist under our label and debuted soon after we did. Those were tough time; while Y/N made a name for herself domestically, we were able to expand internationally which in turn brought more traffic to our company. She would always joke about how we helped her go to concerts overseas. She got along well with the other members too; but there was always something different between us, or so thought.

We were both teenagers when we became trainees. She would always ask us questions and for help and she was the only one who could call me oppa and get away with it. Even the fans noticed how she could call me oppa and no one else. When I think about it, it's mostly because I had a huge crush on her. I was in love with her for years but us dating would be scandalous so we never did, or I never asked.

Everyone treated her like BTS's younger sister. I couldn't imagine it. I wish I had the guts to ask her out.

Y/N was promoting at the same time as I was promoting seven. Going to music shows became exciting because I would find Y/N back stage and we would be goofing off. "Why'd you have to promote seven now?" she whined playfully. "Why?" I asked confused. "I can't win a single time now, until your song stops being nominated" she laughed. "I can stop" I stated. "No, no, oppa, I was joking. The fans love the single; I was just teasing you. I've won enough trophies at this point" she quickly corrected.

We were both done with our promotions and were at the company recording. I had asked her to do a demo for a few of my songs and she was giving feedback on how I could do them. I saw how her eyes sparkled and the way it made my heart beat really fast when she spoke. I found myself staring at her lips, I have no clue what took over me but I suddenly kissed her. She stopped speaking and then I felt it, the sudden push. "Oppa" she screamed. I was shocked, the feeling of her lips still on mine as I traced my lips. "What was that?" she asked. "I...I like you Y/N, so much for so long now" I mumbled. Her shoulders slumped, "I'm sorry oppa but I don't feel that way." she said. "I thought..." I trailed off. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I just hope you will forget this" she said. "Why? Is it because of the dating ban" I asked. "What? NO, Oppa, we are veterans at this point. I just never saw you as anyone but an older brother. Someone to lean on or ask for help" she explained. My heart shattered and I couldn't even say anything. I felt tears prick my eyes. "I'm sorry, I really am. I just hope we can be friends" she begged. "I'm sorry Y/N but I need time. Can you leave?" I asked. "I'm sorry again. I hope we can be friends again" she said while walking out.

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri and 267,803 others

y/n.y/l/n 3 sold out shows in Melbourne!! Thank you everyone who came. Can't wait to see you guys in Manila next!💗💗

user8 언니 너 너무 예뻐 🥹🥹unnie you are so pretty user9 Love all your shows❤️❤️ user10 Oscar was at that show and I saw him too, I think I can die happy now😭😭 user11 She doesn't have a bad angle🥵🥵 user12😘😘 oscarpiastri 🤤🤤 user13 please behave yourself Oscar🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

{Oscar's POV}

I walked into the McLaren garage for the meeting before the race when Zak introduced me to Y/N Y/L/N. They listened to me and invited her, when did they ever do that, my brain was short circuiting. She raised her hand to greet me, "I'M A HUGE FAN" I blurted out, quickly covering my mouth. She smiled, "I saw, the fans were talking about some Oscar at my show, so I checked and they didn't disappoint" she said winking at me. I could die happy now. "It's nice to meet you, you've helped my fan base expand" she chuckled. I laughed nervously. She turned her attention to Lando who had walked in and spoke to him for a few moments while I watched.

"Mate, you're sweating so much, don't be nervous you drive Formula One cars for a living for fucks sake" Lando joked as he saw me stare at her. "How can I not? She's my celebrity crush" I stated. "Ask her out" Lando said simply. "What? NO?" I denied. "Come on, she was flirting with you since she got here. The worse she could say is no and you will never see her" Lando reasoned. "But..." I stammered. "You wanted to meet her that's why you asked to invite her and now that she's here you won't even shoot your shot" Lando questioned.

So, eventually I did pluck up the courage and walked up to her. She was taking a few pictures when I stood in front of her, "Hey Oscar" she greeted putting her phone away. "Hi. Are you in town for a few more days?" I asked. "yeah, my concerts in a few days" she said. "Would you like to go out with me?" I asked trying to sound as confident as I could be. She smiled, "yes, I would love that" she said. "Great! Then dinner tomorrow at 8?" I suggested. "Done. Can't wait" she commented. I walked to the car with a pip in my step, my celebrity crush just said yes to going out with me.

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 890,296 others

y/n.y/l/n First formula one race of my life!! Thank you mclaren for having me🧡🧡

mclaren don't mention it but you should thank our driver tbh😏🤔 user14 no way Oscar suggested to invite her🥹🥹 user15 She looks so good in orange, I could never😘😍😍 user16 that outfit😍😍 user17 Is no one gonna talk about how she changed her outfit at the paddock?🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️ user18 I would've fainted if I was Oscar🫣👀👀 landonorris user18 he almost did🫢🫢 user18 landonorris OMG!! YOU RPELIED oscarpiastri we loved having you, come back soon🧡 Liked by the author y/n.y/l/n oscarpiastri I would love to be back if you'll invite me😉 user19 what is going on between Oscar and Y/N?😌🫣 user20 user19 they're just being nice to each other, shut up🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 1: I Need You Now But I Don't Know You Yet

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Reader POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Self deprecating thoughts, Little bit sad, Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Death, Loneliness, Longing, Basically the reader just wants to be loved, Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.3K

Song Inspiration For Chapter: IDK You Yet (Title of chapter based on song) Y'all should listen to this song because it fits so well!

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue Is in First Person And Is In Italics

A/N: Guys you have no idea how excited I am about this story! It's already shaking up to have a TON of my usual angst, but I'm not surprised.😅 I'm also a little disappointed. I read a soulmate AU fic forever ago for Joel Miller where the birthday was printed on the reader's arm and I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called or find it. If y'all know what it is, please let me know. I'd love to read it again and give the writer a little bit of credit for inspiration. ❤️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

January 24, 1919

The date on your right wrist haunted you, the bold black numbers mocking from the moment you learned what they meant. It had to be a celestial mistake, a misprint, something wrong in the stars that shone so brightly over others, but dulled above your head.

Sometimes you thought you were cursed, that some mystical being before your birth marked you, scarred you, and made you carry the weight of the whole world on your shoulders.

That whoever it was made you different on purpose and you hoped one day you understood what that purpose was.

You'd never met someone born with the same dilemma, to be saddled with a soulmate that was born over 100 years ago, and yet here you were.

You'd heard it all growing up, the hushed whispered "freak" from your schoolmates, the odd looks from your neighbors, the pitying frowns of your parents who had known each other since pre-k, and the hug from your older brother as he whispered the familiar phrase “it‘ll be okay" to soothe you.

But you always wondered…

When would it be okay?

You watched all your friends find their happy endings with their soulmates, the birth years printed on their wrists at least within the same few decades, but not you.

You were alone, different, cursed.

The date printed on your wrist made you different, because no one else had a soulmate that was born so far in the past.

Your soulmate's birthday brushed on your skin only brought a wave of disappointment every time you saw it, because what the hell did it mean? 1919? That meant that your soulmate would be over 100 years old when you met him, whoever it was.

If you even met him.

No one lives that long. My soulmate should be long dead. He can't still be alive. Can he?

Each year that passed was like another nail in the coffin, but you celebrated the birthday of your supposed soulmate with a cupcake and a beer, locked away in your apartment to shut out the jeers of those who knew your particular dilemma. And each year when you blew out the candle you wished that it would be the year you met him, but now you weren't sure it would ever happen.

Because it was impossible.

You didn't understand why you were different, why you were chosen to have a soulmate that was long dead. Maybe it was true, maybe you were born late, born under the wrong sign, or maybe you really were cursed.

You'd heard the stories of people who never found their soulmates, urban legends really, but it didn't make you feel any better. The stories of people who wasted away to nothing, driven to the point of insanity because they never found the other half of their soul, alone for as long as they could stand it before they finally crumbled to dust.

You refused to be like them, turning to books for solace and hoping to escape. Slipping into the pages and into other worlds where people found their other half to leave the loneliness that haunted you behind.

And in that solace your found your true love, literature. It wove around you and brought you peace in a world where you felt lost and different.

When you moved away from the small town you grew up in, you got a job as a Literature professor, reading the great works of others, while trying to forget about the date on your wrist and the soulmate you longed for each day.

It was incredibly lonely to think that you'd live your whole life with only one half of your soul.

Every time you opened a book from the era your soulmate was supposed to be born in you wondered if he had read it, wondered what it was like to live in that time, and imagined what it would have been like to be there with him.

Each day you covered up the date on your wrist with a splash of foundation and playfully laughed it off whenever someone asked you if you'd found your soulmate yet. All the while spending year after year fading just a little bit more as you lost the last pieces of hope that you'd ever meet him.

One Year Ago

You were running late. Frankly you were always running late, but in the city that never sleeps it was to be expected.

It was supposed to be a big day. You had about a hundred papers to grade, a test to proctor, and three lectures to give, but you couldn't complain about your job, you loved it. Loved the groans of your students whenever you announced a test or an essay, loved the soft evenings where you read papers with a cup of tea and learned what in the assigned text was special to your students, and loved to teach from the books that had become home to you, the books that tried to heal your wounded heart.

But today something was different.

Something nagged at the back of your mind, as if you had forgotten that something else was supposed to happen today.

Haircut? No that's not it.

You think as you walk to the large wooden desk in your living room/bedroom. It was technically a dining room table, breakfast table, and your desk, but you'd loved it since the moment you found it tucked into a corner of an antique store in Brooklyn.

Your small studio apartment was quaint, the bedroom and living room divided by a large mid-century wooden screen that you had bought for twenty bucks at a thrift store the weekend you moved into your apartment five years ago. The living room only housed a plump cream colored couch that faced out the window towards the living room window that gave you a spectacular view of the alley between your apartment building and the next. Sometimes you got to watch the couple in the apartment across from you having a terrific fight and then got a front row seat to the loud make-up sex they had almost immediately after.

Large stacks of books dominated every wall stretching up as high up to the ceiling as they could reach, some were pressed against the exposed brick walls, others serving as the base for the coffee table you’d made with a vintage window, and of course there was one stack that towered high above your bed on top of your bedside table.  You didn't own a tv, not when you spent most of your time reading.

Being a English professor meant that you could never have too many books not when they were like old friends that pulled you in whenever you opened their yellowing pages.

Meeting with the head of the English department? You bite the inside of your cheek as you shove your notebook, planner, pencil case, and laptop into your leather messenger bag. No, that's on Thursday.

You'd been working on a research paper that you hoped to publish about the Modern Period of Literature in America, but the head of the English Department wanted to see how much you'd done. In all honesty the only reason why you'd started studying the Modern Period of literature was because it was supposedly the time period in which your soulmate grew up and you thought that it would give you some insight into what his life was like. 

And despite your being an expert on that time period, the head of the English Department did not share your enthusiasm for it. The only thing the head of the English Department had any enthusiasm for was his self-published book of erotic poetry and staring at your legs for too long while making subtle attempts for you to sleep with him even though he was married.

You fight the wave of revulsion with the memory of the last time you had a meeting with him and give yourself a once over in the mirror hanging on the bathroom door that faces in to your living room. You looked the way that you always did, maybe a little more frantic than usual, but that was expected given the fact that you were running late.

Today you had decided to wear your favorite dark green chunky sweater that you'd knitted yourself, a dark gray argyle midi-skirt, chestnut brown ankle high-heeled leather boots, and your traditional pair of circular black-rimmed glasses.

It's going to be a good day. You smile at your reflection. Yeah, if I could remember whatever the hell it is I've forgotten.

You roll your eyes and grab a bagel from the bag on the counter.

No time to toast it.

You think mournfully before shoving it between your teeth as you run out the door, slamming it behind you so hard that it rattles the watercolor botanical framed prints on the inside wall of the apartment.

"Late again?" Your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson, asks opening the cheerful yellow door of her apartment.

She was wearing her traditional pink cat eye glasses and had her wavy gray hair pushed back by a floral headband. When you'd moved in five years ago, she had brought over some cinnamon swirl muffins and a pot of blueberry tea. She'd just lost her own soulmate and husband of sixty-five years and was looking for a friend about as much as you were.

And although she had about eighty cats, all of which who were named after literary figures (your own cat was named Heathcliff), and often smelled like mothballs, you enjoyed spending time with her. She knew about your dilemma and didn't judge you for it. She didn't throw you a pitying look or make outrageous comments about why you'd been chosen to never meet your soulmate. If anything she acted like the way you thought your mother always should but never did. Not with judgement as your mother did, but with concern and love.

"Always." You shout back, muffled around the sesame seed bagel, stamping your foot to get your boot in the right position.

"Tea later?"

"Mhmm."

"Get some earl gray macaroons!"

You make it down the stairs successfully without falling, before throwing yourself against the door that leads into the black and white tiled lobby. Your high heeled boots clack loudly against the floor and you step out onto the crowded sidewalks of the early morning.

Fall was just beginning in the city, your favorite season. The leaves in Central Park were turning reddish brown and yellow and there was a wonderful chill that swept through the crowded streets.

You wove through the people, walking in the direction of NYU and looking down at the antique wristwatch perched on your left wrist to confirm what you already knew- that you were going to be late for your 8:00 am lecture on 20th Century American Romantics.

Shit.

The city is lively for a Monday morning. The chatter of people on phones, the buzz of traffic, the high pitched screech of horns, and the smells of the city wafted over you. It was so different from the small town you grew up in, but you loved being here. Here no one knew you, no one judged you, no one muttered something under their breath about you, and no one grabbed their children and crossed the street as if you were contagious.

You felt free.

You round the corner still looking down at your watch, weaving in and out of the foot traffic the best you can, when someone bumps into your shoulder. Whoever hit you was solid, broad, and much taller than you. The bagel drops from your mouth as you jostle from the bump, and you let out a low groan.

There goes my breakfast.

You look up prepared to curse out the offender when you stop. Whoever it was hadn't stopped moving, but you catch a flash of his bright green eyes as he passes, meeting yours for only a moment.

But that moment seems to last a lifetime.

He was tall with wild dark brown hair so long it touched his shoulders and a scraggly beard that fell over his chest almost to his collarbones. He looked dirty,  almost worn, and was wearing a faded maroon track suit that had some writing on the sleeve in another language that you couldn't place. But his eyes were a brilliant green, so beautiful that they took your breath away.

As soon as his eyes meet yours, your skin hums, body lightening, warmth unfurling like the petals of a flower in the center of your chest curling outward reaching for the sun above. All sounds of the city vanish, leaving you only with the manic thud of your heart. Everything in your body turns towards the man, cells vibrating, reaching out, wanting more, begging you to grab him and hold him close. Electricity pulses and dances along your skin making your hair stand on end and goosebumps erupt along your flesh.

The birthday inscribed by the stars on your wrist sears against your skin like a brand beneath the foundation you smeared over it this morning. You look at him as if seeing for the first time, as if the past years of your life have been colorless, as if you'd been living in a cave for centuries and he's your first glimpse of sunlight, and as if you'd never seen the stars and he's the midnight sky.

You'd never felt any of this before.

The man's eyes widen as he looks at you, people passing between the two of you in a faceless blur, and you wonder if he feels it too.

He has to…

But the man shakes his head and turns his back on you continuing on his path down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder as he goes.

"Wait-" You start to say, but your phone rings loudly in your pocket breaking the spell, and as you look down to retrieve it, you lose the man in the crowd.

What the hell just happened?

The rest of your day is chaotic, almost a blur, your body still humming from seeing that man on the street, wrist aching where the birthdate on your wrist burned against your flesh so hot that it seared through the foundation you brushed meticulously over the skin this morning to cover it up. It was no longer black, but flashed a brilliant gold with every shift of your wrist in the light as you moved your arm when teaching, peeking out beneath the sleeve of your sweater. Every flash distracted you from your lecture. Even your TA, Tate, who sat in the front row of your class began to notice how often you lost your train of thought.

You barely got through your 8:00 am lecture, stumbled through you 9:00 and 10:15, and canceled your 2:00 class much to the chagrin of your students who were expecting a test.

When Tate finally asked you if you're feeling alright, you wave a hand and tell him to take the rest of the day off, while you barricaded yourself in your office and stared at your wrist for hours, running your hands over the golden date confused. The birthdays always shone gold after two people found one another, and when your soulmate died, it went back to black, as if a reminder that the world had faded.

It was weird to see it shine so brightly when you'd lived your whole life staring at the mark and wishing for it to go away.

But he's not here, he's gone. I don't know where he went or how to find him…

Your friends back home described finding their soulmates before, tried to explain to you what it was like when they locked eyes with them for the first time, but everyone was different. No one could describe exactly how they felt when it happened.

Deep down you thought that it should feel like what happened when you locked eyes with the man on the street, like nothing else existed, just him and you but-

He acted like it was nothing like I was just another person and not the other half of his soul.

You swallow the lump in your throat, emotion from a lifetime of disappointment building, and finally the tears begin to crest and fall over your cheeks. You'd never heard of a one sided soulmate before, of only one person feeling drawn to the other one.

Then again, I've never heard of someone printed with the date of a soulmate who was born so far in the past.

Seeing him for the first time was like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp spike, followed by the force of gravity jolting you into reality.

But why him?

You think again about how weathered he looked, like he'd been living under a rock for the past hundred years. And then you see the flash of his brilliant green eyes again in your mind, just for a fleeting moment, but it's enough to make the warmth trail along your skin, like the soft caress of a lover.

Was he really born in 1919? Or was this just another joke? Another way for the universe to laugh at me?

Frustrated tears blur your eyes as you stroke the birthdate on your wrist, heart breaking all over again, because it seemed that even if you had found the man the universe designated for you, he didn't care.

One Year Later: Present Day

You sigh loudly and hold up another dress in front of your body looking at yourself in the mirror. You had no idea what you were going to wear to Annie and your brother Hughie's housewarming party and you only had about another thirty minutes before you had to leave.

Your brother had been living in New York longer than you had, but he still made time for you. The two of you got lunch every week and it was your fault that he met Annie.

Meeting her yourself had been a complete fluke. You'd been sitting at your favorite bench in Central Park by the pond, reading your favorite book, allowing the gentle prose of the author to whisk you away for a few minutes, when someone sat down beside you and promptly began to cry.

And when you asked her what was wrong she'd told you everything about her problems at work and although you'd never been the best at comforting other people, you'd taken her to the closest coffee shop and the two of you had bonded over Chai Tea lattes.

You'd invited her over to watch a movie with your brother one Saturday night and then had a front row seat when the two of them realized that they were meant to be together. You'd tried to be happy for them, but the whole time Annie gushed about Hughie and Hughie stared at her like she was the last glimpse of the sun before it dropped below the horizon all you could think about was that it would never happen to you.

And now one year later, the two of them were finally moving in together in a fancy apartment uptown and you didn't want to imagine what the rent was. Your own studio was enough for you and you were lucky enough to have one that was rent controlled.

But you figured due to Annie being one of the Seven, she was probably making more than your measly teaching salary could ever amount to.

Learning that she was Starlight had been surprising, you weren't a supe, not even close and you didn't want to be. You had your hands full with teaching college kids, and didn't want to think about what it would be like to have superpowers or really what you would do with them. You certainly didn't need them to be a teacher and you didn't want to have them.

Plus, you always worried that you'd get some weird power like shooting webs out of your butt or making it rain blood. You didn't want to take that chance and shooting up Compound V felt like Russian Roulette.

You also worried about your brother working so closely with supes. The two of you hadn’t met any growing up and you worried that he was putting himself in danger every day when he went out to deal with them. But you were happy that Annie went with him, because you knew that she wouldn't let anything happen to him, she loved him too much.

As you hold up a black dress in the mirror you see a flash of the golden birthdate on your arm, and you're unable to fight the emotion that builds in your chest when you do.

It had been a year since it happened, since you locked eyes with a complete stranger on the street and felt your soul intertwine with his and he turned his back on you.

You'd understood that.

Understood that for some reason he decided to turn away like you meant nothing to him, like you weren't the other piece of his soul, and like a part of him didn't call out to you, a lighthouse over a stormy sea to a sinking ship.

It had broken you more than the first time you realized what the date on your arm meant. It always seemed ridiculous that something that brought happiness to millions of others made you feel broken, like there was something wrong with you.

And in that moment on the street something felt right for a few seconds, you felt whole for the first time in your life, only to have everything dashed against the rocks all over again.

But you hadn't forgotten him, couldn't forget him. His green eyes haunted you and each night you dreamed of him.

You saw pieces of his life, his memories, felt his pain, his anger, his frustration, and deep down his fear whenever you fell asleep. You'd never heard of that before, of a soulmate dreaming the memories of another.

You'd asked your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson if she had dreams of her soulmate's memories, she'd said no, but then she said that she'd heard about it, thought that it was only a myth, but it meant that the souls were fated to spend more than one lifetime together.

As if you knew what that meant.

It had broken your heart even more when she said that, because if that were true why did he turn away?

How could he turn away? Why did he leave me standing in the street and acted like I wasn't his other half?

It made you think that maybe he wasn't impressed with you and that he was disappointed that you of all people were his soulmate.

You'd had a mental breakdown at Mrs. Charleson's apartment when you went home early the day you met your soulmate or whatever the hell he was.

She'd made blueberry tea and rubbed you back. And when the tea hadn't worked she had cracked a bottle of red wine and ordered greasy takeout food that the two of you ate on her floral couch while her cats circled like sharks looking for a piece of your chicken and broccoli.

You would have called Annie, but she and Hughie were out of town on a long weekend getaway.

And when you went back to your apartment and crashed into your bed, you'd dreamt of him for the first time.

The memories you'd seen when you closed your eyes that night were not happy at all. You'd seen the early years of his life being berated by his father, years of him drinking and fucking his sorrows away, and then the worst, him being tortured in what looked like a lab. He was a supe, that much you could gather from the memories. But they were filled with pain, suffering, frustration- you'd never met someone who'd been through so much before. Endured so much torture.

You still didn't know his name, didn't see enough of his life to figure out who he was, only that he was different than you in almost every single way. The memories were terrible, filled with blood, death, and pain. It scared you to see your soulmate that way, see him so angry and see him hurt and kill people. You couldn't imagine the kind of man he was, the kind of man who could burn someone beyond recognition and feel absolutely nothing.

It was confusing. You didn't understand how someone who was supposed to be the other half of your soul, was the complete opposite of you. Someone that was filled with so much rage and pain was the man the stars declared was for you.

It doesn't matter anyway. He saw you and didn't want you.

You ignore the lump of emotion in the back of your throat and hold up a navy blue dress, but you hang it back in your closet with a sigh. Nothing seemed to be appropriate for you to wear to the party and you hadn’t been shopping for a new outfit in ages. Not to mention you knew that no matter what you wore Annie would look flawless.

You loved your brother's soulmate, but sometimes you were intimidated by how pretty she was and how together she was. It made you a little self-conscious about the long skirts, sweaters, and blazers you wore when you were at work and you were not together at all.

You seemed to always be running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, frantically running from place to place and trying not to lose the last bit of sanity you had left. While Annie was confident, poised, and glided into each room.

Finally, you reach for a pair of your favorite blue jeans and the same green chunky knit sweater you were wearing the day that you saw him for the first time. The sleeves were long enough to cover the mark on the wrist. You hadn't told your brother or Annie about that day and you didn't want them to see the golden date on your wrist and ask you where your soulmate was.

Guess I'm going a little more casual today.

On your way out you give your cat, Heathcliff, an affectionate scratch behind the ears and grab your purse. You were running a little early this time, early enough to pick up a Snake Plant around the corner at your favorite plant shop, 'Please Don't Die,' as a housewarming gift and then stopped at the liquor store next door to grab a bottle of Annie's favorite wine.

You figured that you'd end up staying late and drinking wine with her long after the party was over.

Hughie opens the door of the apartment when you knock. "Thank God you're here! Annie is freaking out and driving me up the wall-"

"No I'm not! I'm just expressing all the things that have to be done within the next five minutes or I really am going to go crazy!" You hear his soulmate shout back when Hughie lets you in.

The apartment is fancier than yours, all white walls and glass windows that display a view you would kill for. Your brother is wearing a nice light blue button down shirt and navy tie, and his hair is it's usual fluffed and curly self. He looks happy and it warms a piece of your heart because you knew how much that he deserved it. And that's all you wanted for your older brother.

Annie appears, wearing a white dress that wraps over one shoulder and falls to her ankles, effortlessly elegant as usual. It made you feel self-conscious that you'd worn jeans, when Annie was wearing something that made her look like a Greek goddess.

"I am so underdressed." You mutter to yourself

"No! You look great babe. I love those jeans on you." She smiles pulling you in for a hug.

"Well-"

"But please let me do something with your hair." Annie touches the messy bun at the back of your head making a face.

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing, I'm just going to spruce it up a little bit for you."

"But-"

Annie pulls the bottle of wine and the plant from your arms and shoves them at Hughie. "We'll be right back." And with that she drags you to their shared bedroom.

20 minutes later your hair has been perfectly curled and styled by Annie's skillful hands. She'd even adjusted your make up so that now you're wearing a bold red lipstick and a dark eyeshadow that matches your ensemble. And even you have to admit that you look better than you did moments ago. You usually didn't wear that much makeup, sometimes it made you feel like you weren't you, but what Annie had applied seemed stylish.

"Thanks Annie."

"Of course." She smiles brightly and leads you back out into the large kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances and real marble countertops. "How have you been? Did you finish that paper you were writing?"

By now several people have already begun to gather at different parts of the apartment, talking quietly with one another, while sipping drinks and eating finger food. The sound of their chatter is masked by the Billy Joel song playing from the speaker in the corner.

"Yeah. I submitted it, now I'm just waiting for the department head to read it." You frown at the thought.

"You don't think he'll like it?" She moves to the freezer to grab a bag of ice.

"Dale doesn't like the modern period of literature as much as I do so I'm expecting him to have a lot of critiques and reasons why he doesn't like it." You take the bag from her and set it on the counter.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm used to it. He's never ecstatic about my research work." The thought makes you frown. "Even though he knows it's my specialty and the reason why he hired me."

"Isn’t he the creepy married guy that keeps trying to take you to dinner and wrote all those sensual poems about women who sound nothing like his wife?"

"Yep."

"Ew." Annie's face scrunches up in disgust.

"My thoughts exactly." You sigh looking around the kitchen for an ice bucket. "Do y'all have an ice bucket somewhere or-"

"It should be in that cabinet." She points behind you just as you hear someone knock loudly on the front door.

"Perfect."

The ice bucket is acrylic, see-through, and light pink, but you find it easily. The ice clanks against the sides as you pour, not bothering to watch Hughie open the door for whoever it was that hit the front door of the apartment with so much force you thought it would cave in.

Annie leans against the counter pouring herself a glass of wine and groans to herself when she sees who Hughie was greeting.

"What's wrong?" You ask her, your tongue between your teeth as you try not to spill any of the ice over the perfect countertops.

"I didn't think he would come." She grumbles.

"Who?"

"Ben." Annie all but sighs the name.

"And why didn't you want him to come?" You ask, pouring more ice into the bucket.

"He's just kind of rough-"

"Rough?"

"He works with Hughie. He's a supe. Thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread or whatever.” She sighs again and takes a sip of her white wine to calm down. "Actually he used to be Soldier Boy."

"Soldier Boy? You mean the supe from the 80's that died?"

Hughie didn't tell me he had a dead man working with him.

"It's a long story." Annie waves her hand as if to dissipate the thought, but it doesn’t make you any less curious. "Now he works at the bureau with Hughie trying to keep supes in check. Usually he and Butcher bump heads."

"Oh."

Hughie didn't talk much about what he did with Butcher, or really who he met, but after Homelander disappeared and Stormfront took over as leader as the Seven more supes began to come out of the woodwork, supes that had been afraid before, but now had no one to keep them in check. And although The Seven were feared in the city, no one was feared as much as Homelander.

"I'm sure that he won't try anything Annie. And if he does I'll keep him in check." You smile at your friend.

It's her housewarming party and supe or no if he's a prick I'm going to kick his ass out. Annie doesn't deserve to feel stressed today of all days.

"Thanks babe."

"What are friends for?"

She squeezes your arm and walks away to talk with MM who stands with a little girl who must be his daughter. You'd only spoken to him a handful of times, but he was always eager to talk about her achievements in school. He was so proud of her that it made your heart warm. Her mother wasn't his soulmate, but there hadn't been any hard feelings between MM and his daughter's mother.

That wasn't unusual. You'd known several people who decided to date other people before meeting their soulmate as a way of passing the time. You'd always thought it was ridiculous to commit yourself to someone else and fall in love with them, only to have your heart broken when they met who they were meant to be with.

It was why you hadn't tried to date anyone, because you might have never met your soulmate, but the other person you'd be in a relationship with would. And you didn’t want to give your heart to someone only to have them leave you when they met their other half. Which meant that you were probably going to die alone, especially because your soulmate doesn't want you. It hadn't helped that you'd seen a few memories from your own soulmate with other women over the years, women that didn't look anything like you, women that seemed more confident, more beautiful, and more stylish than you.

Maybe that's why he didn't want me.

Your feel the familiar twinge in your chest when you thought that and fought the tears that burned when you thought of how happy Annie and Hughie were. You didn't want to cry at their party.

The familiar question rises in your head again:

When will it be okay?

Probably never.

You turn toward the freezer holding the now half-full bag of ice intent on putting it back when someone bumps into you. The bag slips from your hands and ice goes skittering across the perfect hardwood floors in every direction, but just when you start to drop to pick it up, you feel a large hand grip your shoulder.

A gasp escapes from your mouth as it makes contact.

As soon as the palm touches you, you feel nothing else, not the shift of the sweater against your skin, not the slight chill from the air conditioner, not the brush of your hair against your cheeks, all you feel is the warmth radiating through your clothes and soaking into your skin from the person's hand.

The hand moves to cup your chin gently, the shock of the person's skin touching yours makes the feeling increase ten-fold as the hand tilts your face up to meet the eyes of the person who bumped into you.

You know it's him before your eyes meet his, know that it's the man from the street who you saw for only a few seconds a year ago, but this time when his beautiful green eyes meet yours everything you felt that day comes roaring back.

He's taller than you remember, shoulders proud and broad stretching a dark gray button down shirt over his chest that have the sleeves rolled up revealing tanned arms. His hair is shorter, still dark brown, but now only long enough to cover the tops of his ears and his beard is shaved so that only a thick dusting covers his cheeks, but it's still him. And he's more handsome than any version you could come up with in your mind.

All sound in the room vanishes, the drone of chatter fades, the clinking of glasses disappears, the only sound that remains is your own heart thudding in your chest and you swear you can hear his beating at the same frequency, both of your hearts calling out to one another.

Your entire body feels like it's vibrating, as if every cell is moving so fast that they're heating you from the inside, leaving behind a molten puddle of what you used to be. A golden cord weaves around the two of you securing your heart to his in your mind, making you gasp as it hooks to his heart binding his soul to yours. Time stops as he gazes at you, something brightening in his green eyes as they absorb your own gaze.

The man doesn't move. It almost looks like he's stopped breathing, and you realize that you haven't taken a breath since he touched your shoulder. His eyes drop down to your right wrist where your hand rests over his heart, where he knows his birthday will be.

You don't remember reaching out to touch him, but now that you realize it, you can feel his heart beating beneath the palm of your hand like a fluttering bird, gentle and judging by the memories you had witnessed from him, nothing about this man was gentle.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." The man rumbles, the words vibrating against your fingertips where they rest against his muscular chest. He smiles down at you and somewhere deep down you feel something break open that you thought was locked away long ago.

And as you stand there looking up at the man you thought you'd never see again, the autumn sun warm against your back, you feel a flicker of something that could grow into a blaze spark to life in your chest.

A/N: I hope y'all loved the first chapter as much as I loved writing it! I've never written a soulmate AU, so I am a little nervous about it, but I think that it's going to be a lot of fun! And yes, I did give Ben the same birthday as Dean Winchester (not the same year). In my head Ben is Dean from a different universe, and it just made sense to me. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 😊 If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know! :)

Taglist:

@pamwritessometimes @roger-that-cap @my-obsession-spn @deangirl96 @kr804573

@roseblue373 @52ndstreeet @mrsjenniferwinchester @impala67stellawinchester

[oh-no-its-bird]

*falls out of a tree with a yelp*

There needs to be more people horny gripping for 40 year old Tobirama. Not enough people got to appreciate him. So I propose....

Tobirama and Kagami being yeeted back in time together via, Tobirama trying to save Kagami during his last stand but his blood loss made him have less control over his teleportation and instead of moving towards his other students Tobi moved himself and Kagami to the past. They proceed to do the usual of, making the village happen sooner as the norm of Naruto time travel fics lol

Except now Kagami is trying to keep Madara and/or Izuna from fucking his dad, who is not helping because he thinks this is funny. Do the brothers have Daddy Issues? Maybe...but older Tobirama go BRRRRRRRRRR

I am ringing the bell in the town square yelling ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡ OLD MAN FUCKER !!!!!¡¡¡¡ THERES AN OLD MAN FUCKER IN MY INBOX !!!!!!!! For all to hear

Kidding but only bc 40 isn't old enough to make u eligible for the title. Still ringing the bell tho

I'm in fucking tears tho that would be such a great crackfic.

Older Tobirama time travels w Kagami and instead of being a tense political drama ab the differences between his younger self and older (in some ways, both versions are harder and softer than eachother— just in different departments) and what this means for the future of Konoha. And the implications of having 2 Tobiramas and 2 Kagami's, and how older Tobirama must decide what to do about Madara's inevitable defection.

Instead of all that. It's just 11k words of Madara horny gripping his thighs, breathing heavily as he stares at older Tobirama from across a peace talk table as Izuna screams into a paper bag and Hikaku looks like he's having an out of body experience.

Make it funnier actually. Trick the readers and make the first bit of the fic like. Super serious and from (young) Tobirama's POV

He is living in that tense political drama ab facing the man he will one day grow to be, and meeting his future adopted son (who is an uchiha!!!) And all these implications and heavy moral dillemnas of that peace really means and if he will allow it to soften himself like it has done to this older him. But also if he will allow it to harden himself too— but then, won't that happen anyways as the years go by?

Then like halfway through the chapter u get the Madara POV and it's just him screaming internally ab how bad he wants to hit that.

The things he wants to do to that man...the things he wants that man to do to him...... he is mentioning these Things(tm) to Izuna and Izuna punches him in the face then screams to never talk to him again and runs away to probably scream into a pillow for an hour.

Hikaku tries to talk to Madara and learns More Than He Needed To Know and promptly stands up and power walks away

Meanwhile Izuna is actually attracted to older Tobirama but unlike Madara, who seems to be overwhelmed with it enough to cancel out any other thoughts and feelings, is really fucking mad about it

He wants to climb him like a tree. He also wants to murder him in his sleep. These two things are not mutually exclusive.

Hikaku approaches him, intending to commiserate ab Madara / let Izuna vent a bit bc hes clearly wound up and needs it. Only for Izuna to let slip his own (honestly much more alarming) fantasies. Hikaku is fucking going THROUGH it.

Meanwhile, (young) Tobirama in the bg, seeing none of this: "The true nature of peace...can someone like me really help create such a thing?"

(Older) Tobirama is enjoying the show and absoloutley aware of his effect.

Kagami needs him to STOP. This is the worst thing to ever happen to him in his life.

Uhh endgame one or both Tobirama's end up sleeping w Hikaku (the younger version possibly getting into a relationship w him after the elder leaves?) bc this is the funniest outcome to me. And Madara and Izuna lose their fucking minds ab it

[pshcomforts]

➳ older | psh.

non!idolsunghoon x fem!reader (feat. jaemin and jisung from nct)

“think i need someone older, just a little bit colder”

synopsis: sunghoon is your brother’s friend who you’ve grown up with, but now you guys share lingering kisses and quiet touches.

warnings/content: written in third pov. suggestive content! tension. sunghoon gets jealous and possessive (who’s surprised). he’s also very confident in here. age gap (reader is 18). introverted y/n. cursing and not proofread.

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 5.4k

a/n: fictional characters — dae (jungwon’s boyfriend), min-su (heeseung’s girlfriend), and ji-woo (jake’s girlfriend).

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: older by isabel larosa

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

0:39 ─────|────────────── -1:37

it was a normal, sunny day in the house of y/n and her brother. it had only been the two since their parents had left town for the week.

“hey, i’m gonna have my friends over. stay in your room,” the male said to her.

she gave an eye roll along with a disgusted look in return. “whatever, its not like i talk to your friends,” but she did.

her brother’s friend group consisted of heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon, jaemin, and jisung. the enhypen members had been his long term friends ever since they were little — he met heeseung at the age of 10 and a few years along the way, the 02z liners popped up.

as they grew older, their group expanded when they came across jaemin and jisung in their high school years. ever since then, the group’s been growing and improving together.

with y/n’s brother meeting each boy at such a young age, the girl grew up with them as well. in such luck, her eyes trailed to jaemin. he was always so sweet to her that it caused her heart call to be for him and only him.

well, possibly not just for him.

when y/n got older, she realized that jaemin remained to just be a childhood crush. he was still the same guy she knew him as, but she just grew out of the fond memories she shared with him.

instead, she found herself to constantly look at sunghoon quite more often than she’d think.

she started to see him in a different way. the boy would always go back to the house with her brother after soccer practice, and just little gestures exchanged between the two sent heart throbs.

as time passed, she became more flustered around him — in which caused her to come to terms with the fact that she did like him. but they grew up together, they watched each other mature into the person they were.

that acknowledgement didn’t stop them though.

it had been a party thrown by her brother for who knows what; and one thing lead to another, and sunghoon had randomly admitted his feelings.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ — flashback

“you’re really pretty, you know that?” hoon uttered out in the silence, alcohol slightly reeking out of him.

y/n’s cheeks burned with red as she became flushed. “what?? that’s so random??” she tried to laugh off how awkward it was but only caused it to become more tense.

it was only the two of them in her room. the party was coming to an end with goodbyes, and sunghoon apparently needed his book back that she had borrowed, so they went to her bedroom (it was just an excuse).

when he received the object, he denied the request to go back out there as his social battery was running out (another excuse).

the boy just wanted some alone time, who can blame him?

“i’m serious,” hoon murmured. he turned to face her as they remained to be sitting on the edge of the bed, legs touching and feet near each other.

“uhm.. thank you?” she replied, emphasizing her question mark at the end.

he gave a light chuckle, showing his wide grin as he said, “why’d you say it like that?”

y/n quickly scrunched her brows together, giving a swift shrug to her shoulders before she replied, “i don’t know?? how else am i supposed to thank you?”

“with a kiss.” his lips crashed against hers in an instant. she was taken back for a second but melted in once she felt the tug of his lips.

he pulled away not too long after to let the longing for another sink in. a grin played on his lips, fully amused of her flustered state.

“you just kissed me..,” y/n raised her hands to her lips to graze where his lips had touched hers just seconds ago.

“i like you loser, you haven’t noticed that?” sunghoon said with a chuckle. his brows raised up as he continued to watch her try to find her words.

her mouth opened to speak but nothing could come out. he truly made her at a loss for words with the sudden surge of confidence he had to kiss and confess.

“guess you’ve just been too busy gawking at jaemin huh?” his lips curled into a smirk afterward, causing the girl to hit his shoulder.

“shut up!” they giggled together before the door had suddenly boomed open to the sight of her brother in a drunken state.

“hey.. it’s my friend, sunghoon and my sister, y/n! what are you guys doing?” he slurred out with fluttered eyes.

she rolled her eyes at him while trying to slowly back away from the boy she had just kissed. “oh god, you’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“no bro, my tolerance is good.” his feet soon stumbled down and so did his body. the stupid male fell down to the floor with how drunk he was.

“oh my god…,” she mumbled, giving a heavy sigh as she kneeled down beside him.

sunghoon softly laughed at watching how the siblings interacted.

“sorry..” she slightly whispered to him as she shook her brother who was on the floor.

“it’s okay y/n, we’ll talk soon.” he blinked his eyes in reassurance as he walked over to his friend. “rest well dude,” a soft pat was made to the boy on the floor as hoon smiled and walked out her bedroom door.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

they haven’t talked as much since then.

and as much as y/n’s brother denied it, he was protective of her and sunghoon knew that. he had a younger sister himself, so he understood.

he always remembered the words of her brother that echoed in his head — “y/n’s my little sister, she’s off limits.”

in retrospect, they specifically went out to jaemin as y/n’s name always rolled off of his tongue.

but sunghoon liked the girl. he always did. watching each other grow was something special as he admired from afar.

when she got to an older age, he found it difficult to get her out of his head. they were three years apart though and he acknowledged that, so he tried to move on.

but it didn’t help that they had just kissed months ago. she’d been stuck in his mind just as he was to her.

so when her brother had mentioned his friends coming over, she had to act as if she was unfazed.

a few knocks on the door were made and the whole friend group came flooding in. the boys soon comfortably situated themselves on the couch.

“where’s y/n?” jaemin asked, taking a sip of his opened soda afterward. sunghoon’s ears perked up as he waited for the answer.

“who cares about her?” her brother responded, truthfully remaining a little curious as to why he asked for her.

“oh come on, your sister’s cute.”

the girl’s brother morphed into an appalled look. “ha ha very funny. you’re disgusting, jaemin.”

he raised his arms in defense, hearing the others chime in as well. “that’s his little sister, bro.” jake said with a chuckle.

“says the one who’s dating her friend!”

the australian boy quickly shut his mouth after.

“he’s got you there,” heeseung amusingly added.

jaemin puffed out his lips as he let air pass. “you’re dating her other friend, hee” jisung squeaked out with a giggle.

heeseung became quiet, causing loud laughs to erupt from the group.

“you guys may be dating her friends, but that doesn’t mean you can date her.” y/n’s brother defensively said.

sunghoon trailed his eyes from the left and then to the right as he quietly whispered, “oh fuck.”

they weren’t exactly dating, but they still shared small pecks on the lips whenever they had the chance.

he couldn’t help it, it was like a craving.

“you’re quiet hoon,” jake mischievously spoke.

everybody landed their eyes on the boy as he took a gulp. “i just need to take a piss” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact as he got up and left.

“strange…,” y/n’s brother uttered.

“strange indeed,” heeseung whispered, sharing a suspicious glance to jake. they definitely heard something from their partners.

as sunghoon found his way to the bathroom, he also searched for y/n. luckily, her bedroom was near so he didn’t have to look far.

“y/n?” he quietly peeped, head peaking through the crack of the door.

a gasp was heard from the other end. “sunghoon?” she harshly whispered, widening the door crack to a smiley hoon.

“missed you,” he quietly mumbled in her ear while closing the door behind him. his arms wrapped around her, sighing in the warm embrace she exuded.

“missed you too.” she shyly said back with her head against his broad chest.

“y/n?? is that sunghoon?” her airpod muffled out.

the boy raised his brows before turning his head to her phone and finding her on call with her friends — min-su, dae, and ji-woo.

“you’re calling them?”

“yeah..”

in seconds, she could hear them go quiet in her ears, only for them to go loud again with booming questions; a few about their boyfriends who were at her house and a few about their undefined relationship.

she groaned out a sigh before double tapping her airpod, disconnecting from the call.

“sorry, i wanted to be kept busy while you guys were here.” y/n pushed her lips into a firm line to display how awkward she was feeling.

hoon gave a chuckle as a response — “i could’ve been helping you with that.” his brows raised in a suggestive way, earning a loud slap on his arm.

“ew sunghoon!” her face struck in horror as his words replayed in her ears.

truth be told, she got butterflies in her stomach with how close he was when he said it, but that didn’t stop her from hitting him. “the way you’re so confident right now is crazy, what if my brother finds you in my room like this?”

the inner corner of his lips slowly curled in mischief. “don’t worry gorgeous, he hasn’t found out the past few times i’ve visited you for a kiss.”

y/n’s eyes widened at the nickname. “gorgeous??? god hoon, you need to be put down.” she shook her head before rubbing her fingers on her temple. the boy was stressing her out but she was secretly enjoying the little things he was risking for her.

“i’m serious loser, if he finds out, we’re both done for. you know how he is!”

sunghoon grinned ear to ear, simply melting from her stressed state. “i know i know, you’re just so mesmerizing that i have to come back to you.”

he grabbed her chin from the bottom and smiled in amusement, enjoying how flustered he could make her with his flirtatious acts.

“i don’t know whether to feel disgusted or special right now,” she murmured, slightly killing the romantic mood.

he scoffed at her words. “you should feel special.” his head dipped lower to her lips, foreheads bunking while closing the gap as she whispered, “should i?”

his lips curled into a smile, uttering — “mhm” before letting their lips meet. her hands wrapped around his neck to pull him closer.

it was a soft kiss with how gentle he was going, but he still let a low groan leave his lips as his brows scrunched together.

hoon had finally got his craving, but the hungry desire was building up.

before he could go any further, y/n quickly pulled away to let him linger for more. he tried to connect their lips back together again but she stopped him with a head turn.

sunghoon was confused and his face showed it, causing the girl to softly laugh at his reaction.

“that was cute, but you have to go back before he notices you weren’t even in the bathroom in the first place.” she quietly said against his lips.

“so let him,” he groaned out before attempting to swoop in for another kiss.

she dodged it again as she shook her head. “no hoon, i’m serious. he might actually kick your ass.”

sunghoon rolled his eyes, tone becoming bitter as he replied, “so close to telling him for us.”

she gave a giggle at his words before nudging his arm. “just go back.”

“but-“

“hoon??” a voice from the hallway called out.

the two froze together before y/n slightly pushed him away from her.

the voice didn’t belong to her brother, but she knew it was one of the boys.

in seconds, jake peaked in through the door. he caught on a little too quick as he automatically smiled.

“what’s going on in here hm?”

sunghoon’s face peered into repulse at the sight of his friend. “shut up dude.”

jake softly chuckled before continuing on, “he sent me up here to check on you since you were taking too long in the bathroom. guess you just got lost in y/n’s room huh?”

y/n smiled and shook her head at the boy. “shut up jake…,”

he laughed in return as sunghoon’s cheeks were faintly colored red. “i’ve been knowing all along bro, ji-woo told me already. jisung owes me.. but you don’t have to look all embarrassed.” he nudged his arms in a playful way as the girl continued to laugh. “her brother might kill you though..”

“let’s just go. you’re embarrassing me,” sunghoon muttered, grabbing hold of the shorter boy to leave the room.

“hey don’t worry, i won’t tell anyone! and tell ji-woo to text me back y/n, yeah?” jake shouted. he earned a head smack from hoon in return so her brother couldn’t hear anything.

the two bickered like siblings as they walked through the hallway, leaving y/n alone in her bed. a smile curled onto her lips before she went back to her phone and rejoined the call with her friends, not forgetting to tell ji-woo to text jake back.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

days had passed since the boys came over. within the time gone, y/n’s brother had received news that he was getting promoted to a higher position in his job.

to celebrate, a party came in mind.

night arrived and the event soon began.

the party didn’t consist of a lot of people, but there were enough to cause social anxiety in the host’s sister.

she didn’t bother to converse with many people as she stayed near her friends — who, of course, were dating her brother’s friends so she stayed lingering around by herself.

the poor girl sighed to herself as she was alone.

no sight of hoon could be found but even if she did find him, she couldn’t risk it. to be quite frank, they hadn’t talked in a while. and along with that, they hadn’t kissed, so tension between them was growing.

it only worsened though when she found him to be talking to some girl.

just a random girl she didn’t know.

it didn’t matter that she didn’t know who that girl was, it mattered that he was talking to someone else who wasn’t her.

the 5’11 boy was seemingly enjoying the conversation he was having with her, laughing about who knows what. it boiled her blood to see that he was giving that same smile he gave her when they kissed the day that jake interrupted them.

she knew it was to throw off suspicions from her brother but did he really have to do it too well?

✩ ‘baby, am i your little secret?’ ✩

“want some company?” a familiar voice asked her, interrupting her train of thought.

y/n looked up and found jaemin offering her a can of soda. “sure,” she murmured with a smile.

he took the seat beside her as he sighed. “it’s overwhelming isn’t it?”

she peeked her eyes at him once she took a sip of her beverage. “yeah… i’d rather not interact with all of them.” her chuckle was soft as he reflected it in the same tone.

“still the same shy girl i know huh?”

she didn’t like him anymore, but that sure had her slightly flustered. her eyes widened a bit as she turned to him — “i’m not shy! i just don’t want to talk to people” — she defended.

jaemin’s laugh became louder as he teased, “yeah right. i know you y/n, you’re not one to talk first.”

the girl rolled her eyes in defeat. “okay okay fine.”

he grinned again while bunking shoulder to shoulder with her. “so who are you willing to talk to then?”

they met eyes right away and almost immediately, his gaze softened.

her inner child would be screaming with how close he was right now.

but she didn’t like him, not anymore. she liked sunghoon.

and no matter how close her old crush was near her, she couldn’t stop thinking about how hoon might’ve been doing something else with that girl.

y/n softly pulled away as her eyes twinkled in the light. “just anyone really,” she said with a half smile.

jaemin’s left corner of his lips curled as he smiled and nodded.

“i used to like you, you know?” he suddenly admitted.

her head quickly whipped to him as he chuckled at her reaction. “yeah i used to like you but i backed off because of your brother.”

she felt her heart pounding from his words but she didn’t know if it was from her younger self screaming in joy, or what.

“you did?” the girl asked, fingertips unusually becoming numb.

he nodded his head and gave a bread smile. “you were so cute when you were little.” he gazed his eyes down, going into remembrance of how they used to be in their younger years.

when y/n opened her mouth to speak, she felt a quick tug fling at her wrist.

in seconds, she was pulled away from the brown haired boy who was just as confused as her. her eyes glanced up and found a jealous sunghoon in front of her.

from what she didn’t see, hoon had been observing from afar. he didn’t mean to go stalker mode but he couldn’t help it with how jaemin had suddenly approached his girl.

his eyes darted at the two, resisting it all in himself to not pull her right away. he had enough of it though when he saw how close his friend had gotten to her. his jaw clenched when he imagined the possibility of jaemin connecting his lips with the girl he’s been wanting to kiss.

“hoon?”

“shut up.” he angrily spat out.

his grip accidentally became tighter as he continued to drag her up to her room, not caring if her brother had seen (he didn’t).

when they finally got to her room, he shut the door and pinned her against it.

she slightly winced in pain, almost causing him to let go of his rough act. it didn’t work though because the thought of jaemin and her closely together angered him even more.

he felt a bitter grudge fill every inch of his body as his jaw tensed, eyes staring deeply into hers.

“you gonna keep talking to jaemin, or should i tell your brother?” one hand was slammed against the door, near her head as the other still held onto her, caging her to himself.

“you know jaemin and i aren’t-“

“then why do you keep talking to him?” sunghoon cut her off, sounding sour in his tone as his eyes never dared to leave hers.

y/n slightly rolled her eyes. she liked seeing him jealous but he was honestly annoying her.

“why do you care?” she challenged. her lips softly grinned as he mirrored it, enjoying how confident she got.

he inched his face closer to hers, breath becoming hot and heavy against her — allowing the girl to reel in the scent of alcohol he radiated.

their lips were so close to touching, so close to finally meeting again after days of intense silence.

sunghoon lingered his eyes on her lips, tracing every part of it with his vision before moving onto her eyes.

the boy peered his gaze into her, slowly displaying that his orbs were pleading with lust and hunger.

he licked his lips, letting his tongue peek a little for her to see as he raised his brows and gave a smug smile at the same time.

“you belong to me,” he whispered.

butterflies and nervous sensations hit every part of y/n’s body with just those words. she felt weak in the knees in how he delivered his sentence.

the words were so possessive and yet charming.

hoon’s head dipped in to close the small gap between them, only for y/n to stop him with a hand on his chest.

the tension couldn’t be cut through with how much they craved for each other.

he slightly backed away, brows faintly raising as she shook her head. “you’re drunk, sunghoon.”

he gave a laughing scoff before letting his eyes trail back to her lips. “am i? because why is it that all i can imagine right now is how you kissed me the other day.”

he placed his thumb on her bottom lip, pulling it back as his mouth opened as well. a soft groan erupted out of his throat while holding himself back from smashing their lips against each others.

she was so close to giving in.

his desperation for a kiss had her almost folding. but she had to stop herself.

he was drunk, and she wasn’t about to take advantage of his vulnerable state.

it was something, but it was not the way.

when sunghoon tried to dive in for another kiss on the lips, y/n’s hands firmly placed itself on his muscled shoulders.

“you’re not in the best state to make decisions right now.” she stared deeply at him as he furrowed his brows.

“are you sure about that?” hoon’s head drooped to her shoulders, allowing her to instantly feel his hot breath.

he whimpered out a sigh at the feel of his lips on her clothed skin. “you drive me crazy,” he whispered, placing wet kisses at her shoulder and leading up to her collarbone.

as he attempted to do so, his eyes closed a little longer than he wished. and instantly, he was knocked out.

she huffed out a sigh, half in laughter and half in annoyance that his body weight was suddenly depending on her. “geez,” she mumbled. “kissing me and now you’re asleep.”

her hands pushed him off of her so he could fall back on the bed.

the girl smiled as her gaze softened with each second she admired him. “sleep well idiot,” she whispered before turning out the lights.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

when morning came, sunghoon’s eyes forced itself awake from the bright light.

a pounding was taken to the head as he groaned out in pain. he looked around, eyes scanning everywhere as little placements of the room began to be recognized.

he peaked his head up to the left, soon finding a barrier of pillows in the middle of the bed, separating him and the girl he liked. y/n remained softly asleep on her side as she was all the way at the edge of the bed.

once he blinked enough to gain conscious of how far she was, he softly smiled.

“cute,” he quietly mumbled to himself.

as he was about to reach for a blanket to cover her up, the door was suddenly opened to y/n’s brother. his mouth gaped open in shock as his eyes widened.

“what the hell are you doing in my sister’s room???” he loudly questioned, awakening y/n.

she blinked in confusion before gaining hold that she slept in the same bed as sunghoon, and her brother had just caught her.

“calm down,” she grumbled while tiredly rubbing her eyes.

her brother clicked his tongue before yelling — “get the hell out of her bed sunghoon! what the hell is wrong with you?”

with said, hoon jumped out of the bed, only for the older boy to skip close to him. “that’s my sister!!”

“okay look-“

“no! get out! you are not getting anywhere closer to her”

“you can’t do that!” y/n defensively screamed.

“shut the hell up! you’re a kid, you can’t- he can’t- just get out of here sunghoon!”

the younger male quickly rushed out, not needing to be told twice to do such a thing as he panicked.

a few hours passed and her brother continued to rage even though hoon had left.

“are you kidding me, y/n??”

she rolled her eyes and sighed. “it’s not that big of a deal as you’re making it.”

“you’re eighteen and he’s twenty-one dumbass! he’s older than you by three years, what makes you think this is okay??”

“we like each other and it’s genuine.”

“you’re a kid, y/n. he’s gonna be in his mid twenties soon and you just turned eighteen. you don’t even know what’s best from left to right. how are you gonna handle it if he breaks up with you??

“well i guess we’ll just have to wait and see huh!” she yelled, rolling her eyes and rubbing her temple in irritation. “three years isn’t as bad as you’re making it.”

“it is when you’re just fucking eighteen, stupid.”

“calm the fuck down,” she took a sigh in as she mentally told herself to calm down. “okay look, i know you’re pissed because he’s your friend and he’s three years older than me, but i’m telling you, him and i match really well.”

her brother gave a soft scoff, shaking his head in disappointment as he said, “you’re just gonna get hurt, dumbass.”

she knew he was being protective, but he couldn’t control her love life.

“sunghoon and i are-“

“are what? together now?” he ridiculed.

y/n rolled her eyes. “would it really be that bad for us to be together?”

before she could say anything else, he walked away. her brother didn’t want to hear what she had to say anymore. the argument would only be going back and forth so he left it as it is.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

a few days had passed since the incident, and y/n’s brother hasn’t talked to her or sunghoon.

in fact, y/n and hoon haven’t talked to each other either. they felt it best to keep a distance for the time being.

when it was late in the night, the girl was calling the same four friends as usual. they yapped on and on about various topics.

as her friend, dae continued to talk about his date with jungwon, a light tapping was made on the window.

being the paranoid girl she was, her heart stopped before she turned to her phone — “did you guys hear that?? that wasn’t just me right..,”

“girl.. i heard it too,” said ji-woo with a clear eyebrow raise.

“uhm me too but i didn’t want to say it,” dae quirked out.

“you’re being haunted y/n,” min-su commented with a smile.

“shut up!” the girl on the other end yelled, hands shakily grabbing hold of the phone to see if she missed any notifications that could be related to the tapping window.

indeed, she did.

hoonie :):

It’s me

Open please..

y/n huffed out a sigh as she went to the window. “hold on guys, i’ll be back.” she told her friends, ending the call while opening the window to sunghoon.

he came tumbling in, chest heaving up and down. “finally,” he breathed.

“what are you doing here, sunghoon?” her arms folded together in curiosity.

the boy breathed heavily as he caught his breath.

“i just..,” he stopped himself to get closer to her, hands cupping her cheeks as he lovingly stared. “i just wanted to see you.”

“what if-“

“it’s okay, i’ll only be here for a second. i just really missed you.”

y/n cracked a smile as his cheesy words caused her heart to thump in joy.

“i missed you too…,” she quietly said before leaning in for a small peck on the lips.

“you just stole my next act,” hoon replied with a pout.

she laughed at his reaction, rolling her eyes as her hands trailed up to his own. “just do it again.”

and he did.

the male pushed himself toward her lips after being granted with permission.

his hands became tighter around her cheeks as he forced more of his lips on hers, pushing her back so she could hit the wall. she softly groaned from the act while he felt relieved to feel her lips on his again.

with them keeping a distance, the tension easily grew and the kiss had just satisfied that, but he craved for more.

he was hungry, and thrilled, even, to finally have their lips connect. it was evident with how much his grip tightened around her waist.

the girl finally pulled away, hands holding him back as she panted deeply for fresh air. “gosh..,” she breathed, fisting her hands so she could harshly bump it against his strong chest.

sunghoon gave a faint laugh in return. his head bunked against hers as he placed a sweet kiss on the top of her nose.

“i’ve been waiting.”

y/n rolled her eyes, softly hitting his arm as she said, “he’s really gonna find out!”

“let him, he already knows.”

he connected his lips with hers again, almost sloppy with the way they touched, but it was nothing but sweet.

he intended to keep the mood that way and so did she.

“hoon..,” she mumbled against his lips. “he could-“

“shut up.” sunghoon smashed his lips against hers, muffling out the leftover words in her mouth as she melted into it.

she felt her heart rate exceed at an unhealthy pace when his finger nails dug into the flesh of her waist.

he pulled away again, panting hard while still leaving littered kisses on her lips.

“stop kissing me, hoon! im scared,” she pushed him away with a hit on his shoulder.

sunghoon only chuckled as a reaction, finding it amusing with how afraid she was. his fangs shined in her eyes as he continued to laugh.

“you’re cute when you worry,” he teased.

his hand reached to her hair, tucking a few strands behind as he looked at her with yearning eyes.

“gorgeous girl,” he whispered before placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “your brother may scare me too, but he can’t completely break us apart.”

y/n’s lips curled into a smile as she quietly agreed. “plus, you’re already mine.” he added on, intertwining his hands with hers and raising it as proof.

she rolled her eyes and nodded her head — “fine fine, but if he catches us, i’m blaming you.”

he cracked out a laugh — “okay gorgeous.” he dragged her to her bed before wrapping his arms around her. his head rested on top of hers as their legs dangled together.

as they remained on the bed, trying to be as secretive as possible, y/n checked her phone real quick to text her group chat that she wasn’t gonna join back.

but a few quick texts from her brother had stopped her.

‘I know he’s there stupid’

‘He better treat you right’

she grinned ear to ear after feeling a heavy weight lift off of her shoulders.

a quick like and response to the message was made before shutting her phone off and turning to sunghoon.

“he knows,” she whispered.

his eyes blew up in shock. “he does??”

“mhm, and he’s okay with it so you better be glad.” she said, letting her hands go to his hair to play with it.

y/n picked at the soft strands that peaked out, smiling as she felt her heart warming up with him.

hoon watched her play with his hair, eyes longing with love as her embrace was becoming home to him.

the two stayed in their position a little longer before ultimately deciding to watch a movie together.

the night ended in a softhearted silence as they slept in each other’s arms. she was sound asleep with his hoodie on while he clung onto her.

everything felt right with the world now that they were together without the burden of her brother.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

[dnpbeats]

(Almost Solid) Proof That Dan Ran PhilsLion

I'm convinced that Dan was the person who ran the PhilsLion twit and I have receipts.  For anyone who doesn't know, PhilsLion is a twitter account that tweeted from the POV of Lion. It's commonly thought that this account was run by Phil. Besides the fact that he would interact with the account, there are multiple tweets that seem to be about him and dan. Unfortunately there's good reason to believe it wasn't Phil running it. HOWEVER there are many reasons that lead me to believe it was Dan who was tweeting from it, some of which is evidence based and some of which makes logical sense.

DISCLAIMER: All tweets I've included that are ostensibly about dan and phil's relationship are in reference to things that are confirmed by d&p themselves (e.g. the fact that d&p were romantically involved when they first met). I will not discuss anything that is not supposed to be public knowledge.

First let's look at when the Twitter was created. (Note: I am in UTC-8 so all screenshots will be in that time zone. I will say what time it would've been in UTC+0 (d&p's time zone) for clarity.)

Dan’s twitter account was created in May 2009. The first tweet from him (assuming he did not delete any older ones) was May 15 at 1:18pm. Presumably this is the day he got twitter.

On May 16 2009 at 3:19am Phil tweeted that he uploaded “I was kidnapped.” 

In this video he mentions his own personal twitter account, and there is an annotation of Lion saying “i want a twitter” (20sec into the video)

About 3 hours after the video was posted (6:26am UTC+0), we get the first tweet from PhilsLion (presumably this was right after the account was created)

May 16th 2009 was a Saturday. We know from Dan’s video “THE POWER NAP” that he worked at ASDA on Saturdays and Sundays from 5am-10am. So he would’ve been awake shortly after Phil posted the video. Also note that Dan presumably had an iPhone at the time (he tweeted something about iPhones in June 2009 and had no previous tweets before that about getting a new phone). He specifically tweeted in Sep 2009 about tweeting from his iPhone. Based on the fact that Dan literally showed up to work drunk and took a nap, I don’t think he is above going on twitter at work.

While this is not proof that Dan created the account, we can see that it’s definitely possible for him to have created the account. We know he would’ve been awake at the time the account was created, and it was approx. a day after he created his own twitter account, so making a twitter account would've been fresh in his mind.

We do have proof that Phil did not create the account. First, he edited the description of “I was kidnapped.” to say that someone [else] created PhilsLion:

He also tweeted May 16th (10:35am UTC+0 if that matters to anyone) basically saying the same thing as the video desc, implying that someone else made the account:

Finally in “AmazingJason” (posted May 26th) he mentions, again, “someone [else]” creating the Twitter account (about 20seconds in, the timestamp is linked). He encourages everyone to follow it and links it in the description of the video:

So unless Phil was really pushing that someone else created it even though he himself made it, it wasn’t him.

If you want to skip to Proof™ scroll down to the next photo of Phil. Before that, I’d like to debunk the 11:11/different time zone thing–I think this is the biggest reason people have claimed that the account was not run by Phil or Dan but rather some other random fan. On May 30th at 4:12pm UTC+0 and June 3rd at 4:19am UTC+0, PhilsLion tweeted about making wishes at 11:11. In order for these tweets to be made at ~11:11 local time, they would need to have been made in either UTC-5 or UTC+7. UTC-5 is US Eastern Time. UTC+7 is a time zone mainly consisting of Southeast Asia. This includes parts of Indonesia, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, and Vietnam. I have an explanation for this, which is certainly the biggest reach of this whole thing, but it is a plausible explanation :p

It’s very possible that it was Dan who tweeted this if he was on vacation with his family at the time. We know Dan and his family have vacationed in Asia many times (at the very least they went to Thailand in 2006, India in 2010 and 2013, and Sri Lanka in 2016). So while there’s no proof (that I know of) that Dan was on vacation at this time, it’s certainly possible that he was. The location of the tweets would fit with where we know his family likes to go on holiday. Additionally, the second tweet talks about water skiing, which tends to be a fun vacation thing rather than something people do regularly (note this tweet would be at 11:19am in UTC+7)

There’s further proof that PhilsLion was not always in UTC+7. On Christmas 2009, PhilsLion tweeted “goodmorning” at 6:21am UTC+0. This would be 1:21pm in UTC+7. It makes a lot more sense for this to have been tweeted in England.

Then fast forward to January 8th 2011. PhilsLion tweets “I was up all night” at 8:05am UTC+0. This would be 3pm in UTC+7. So again, it seems that PhilsLion was not in UTC+7 at this time.

Okay, now onto much more solid evidence. First, the handwriting of PhilsLion. This is the most tangible piece of proof. On June 25th 2009 Phil posted “AmazingAlex,” where Lion can be seen behind him in one of Phil’s shoes:

Lion tweeted a photo the next day, saying “I’m on a boat :)” in reference to being in Phil’s shoe

Note that the drawing/writing does not appear in the video and therefore was done by whoever runs PhilsLion. Here is some of Dan’s writing (found in TABINOF) for comparison:

This is from the “how to draw cat whiskers” page. Notice how the As all have the crossbar quite high up, just like in the twitter picture. Additionally, the top loops in the Bs are all very skinny compared to the bottom loop. Here’s another one of Dan’s capital Bs from the blindfolded portrait page, which is similar to Lion's writing:

I’m not a handwriting analysis expert, and yes it’s different drawing on MSPaint vs. a piece of paper, but the handwriting certainly has similarities.

And now, the more circumstantial evidence, but things that seem (imo) to be too big of a coincidence to not have been written by Dan (FYI these are going to be added in order of how much of a reach they are, not chronological order, lol). First we have “I month you”:

This tweet is proposing an alternate word for “love” and ends with “I month you” (i.e. is replacing the word love with month), and was tweeted on November 19th 2009. AKA exactly a month after dan and phil met IRL for the first time.

Another one that seems very related to Dan and what we know of his situation is this tweet about “Lion’s” dad:

In Dan’s own words in BIG: “I didn’t think I could ask my family for help or share my feelings about this, mainly due to my dad. Funny guy, kind of a woke hippie who did and said a lot of things I did respect but at the same time used to walk around the house saying how he hoped someone he had a problem with at work would 'die of bum cancer.' Yep, so picked the one area to be a bigot that would further traumatize your child. Nice! This experience coming from a childhood hearing the word gay meaninglessly thrown around as an insult at home[.]” 

Note that Dan was still living at home at the time, so if this tweet was made by him, it wouldn't have meant literally “getting away.” Also, Dan was at home when this was tweeted but it was 3 days before he was going to see Phil.

Next there’s this tweet:

The “admirers” thing could be referring to anything really, but was tweeted during the time that Dan (and Phil) were in the Clipstar video contest. Also, Dan posted this dailybooth two days before this tweet, and most of the comments are just gassing him up, so lol (the pic doesn’t load but based on the comments I think it was a screenshot from his clipstar vid).

This tweet from Christmas Eve 2009. Dan and Phil were together and filming the interactive Christmas adventure:

Proof they were together if anyone needs it:

This tweet (tweeted November 26 5:45am UTC+0)

Many things to note here. The song linked is called “When I See You Again.” It’s by Dave Bullas (one of the founders of SiTC), whom d&p were/are friends with. (They had other friends who were friends with him as well. PJ has the top comment on the video.) The lyrics of the song are not really happy as they insinuate a breakup. But it’s interesting to think about them in the context of wanting to see someone who you are not able to. This tweet was 3/4 days after the “I wonder how biology…” tweet and 3 days before Dan went to see Phil.

Also, Dan just LOVES recommending music to people. He does it a lot.

(^ Proof Dan was seeing Phil on the 29th if anyone needs it)

Now a tweet exchange which doesn't technically prove anything, but I thought was curious. Phil tweeted December 29 2010 about getting a new camera:

Lion tweeted in reference to this 20 minutes later:

I find this interesting because Phil made no comment anywhere about manuals or ignoring them. So it could just be PhilsLion making schput, but a lot of the other Lion tweets are in direct reference to something Phil said/did. It would make sense if Dan ran the twitter acc and he was talking about something that he witnessed Phil do that we don’t know about. Also note “my new camera is here” vs. “phil picked up his new camera” (Lion giving more specific detail than Phil in terms of the manner in which he obtained the camera).

Some Tweets (1, 2, 3) which aren’t proof of anything but just sound like things Dan would say:

For context, this is about floods that happened in Queensland. Again, I have no way to prove Dan said this. But if you’ve ever read, like, anything Dan has said in a print interview ever or watched any of his liveshows, you know that he often tries to say stuff with superfluous/pretentious language and then ends up not making a whole lot of sense. Things that he’s said have been misconstrued so many times, or just outright don’t make sense to anyone but him. So this series of tweets checks out, if it is Dan who ran the account.

This Twitter exchange which doesn’t actually prove anything but is very sweet if it is dan who tweeted it:

The photo is a screenshot from “AmazingJason”:

Note that two weeks later (October 23) in “Life without the internet!?” Phil says the internet led to him “meeting the best friend of [his] life.” The comments all assume he is referencing Dan, but in the video he holds up Lion, so presumably that’s actually who he’s talking about. That is, unless Lion represents Dan :p

Lastly, this tweet which is a Fall Out Boy lyric, but again would be cute if it was Dan:

There's a few more tweets that are interesting to think about being from Dan but don't actually prove anything so I won't put them here lol.

So, at the end of the day, could it be some random fan* who made the twitter account? Yes. But in my opinion there isn’t really anything proving it’s not Dan. On top of that, there are enough things that fit with what we know factually about d&p now, but were not well known at the time, that make it seem much more likely that Dan ran this account vs. a random person.

*technically when the account was started, Dan himself was a random fan. So there’s that too ;)

P.S. best practice is to not interact with old tweets, so pls don't go on a retweet spree

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of court, mentions of shootings

Chris’s POV

It was early Saturday morning when Nate showed up at my place, looking like he hadn’t slept a minute. He’d just been let go from the police station after being kept overnight. I could tell from the way his eyes darted around that he was still a little on edge. It wasn’t the first time Nate had found himself in trouble, but this was different. Getting arrested for carrying too much weed while being tied up with our crew was a whole new level of risky.

Nate and I were both part of the Crimson Cartel, a gang deeply embedded in Boston’s streets. His family had been involved for as long as I could remember, and his cousin Danny was one of the big players. I got pulled into it all because of Nate - our friendship was solid, and when he joined, it wasn’t long before I did too. 

“Got a joint, bro?”  Nate asked, his eyes already scanning the kitchen for one.

I laughed. “Seriously? You just got back from being arrested for possession, and you want to smoke up?”

“Hell yeah. What else am I gonna do?” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

I liked the occasional joint. It helped take the edge off, helped me relax when things got too hectic. But that was it - just weed, nothing harder. I knew where to draw the line. Sure, I sold drugs, but I didn’t get involved with any of the other shit. That was strictly for the older guys in the Crimson Cartel. Those were the ones who handled the hits, the intimidation, the gruesome work. They had been in the game for years, hardened by it. Nate and I, we were different.

We were the youngest in the gang - Me being 21, and Nate just 20, everyone else was 30+. We’d been involved since we were 16 & 17. Our job was simple: handle the drug runs, get the product from one place to another. No blood on our hands, no breaking bones or taking lives. It was a clean line, or at least that’s what I told myself. I wasn’t in this for the violence. Shit, I wasn’t even in this by choice, one bad decision snowballed, and now this was my life. My family freaked the fuck out when they found out. Kicked me out, didn’t want anything to do with me. That’s how I ended up living with my uncle Jerry, just trying to get by. I guess it helped having an uncle who liked to smoke too.

Just sell it – that’s what I kept reminding myself. I was good at it. I didn’t have to hurt anyone. I didn’t have to be like the older guys who let the gang swallow them whole. I wasn’t a thug, and I wasn’t going to become one. That’s how I stayed sane in all this.

The older guys in the cartel, though – they didn’t think like that. For them, it wasn’t just about the money. It was about power, about making a name for themselves on the streets of Boston. Nate and I didn’t fit into that. We were runners, sure, but we kept ourselves out of the violent shit. Nate had a reckless streak growing up, especially when he was with his cousin Danny, but even he didn’t want to cross that line.

Still, the older we got, the harder it became to stay in our lane. The more we were around, the more they expected from us. Every time I handed off a package, there was always this nagging feeling that eventually, they’d want more. Nate and I had managed to avoid that side of the cartel for now, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. There’s only so long you can run drugs before they start pulling you deeper in.

The truth was, this life had a way of blurring those lines. Sure, I wasn’t involved in any hits, but I was part of the same machine that funded them. Every deal I made, every bag I handed off, it all contributed to something bigger, something more dangerous. As much as I tried to keep myself at arm’s length from the bloodshed, I was still part of the problem. And deep down, I knew it. But I had to keep telling myself that it was different. That I was different. As long as I stayed on the edges of it, as long as I kept my head down and just did the runs, I wouldn’t have to cross that line. I wouldn’t have to become like Vince or Danny or any of the others who’d let the cartel define them.

We headed out the side gate of my bungalow and settled into the backyard. It was chilly, but the kind of brisk Boston morning you get used to. I pulled out a joint, lit it up, and handed it over as Nate slouched back into one of the old chairs. As he took a deep drag, I asked, “So, what the hell happened?”

He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling up into the air. “Man, it was a mess. I was out helping Danny and Sully with a run. You know, just moving some weight, nothing crazy. But then Danny got a call, said one of the big guys from H Block was back in town, and he couldn’t let that slide.”

I nodded, knowing all too well how territorial things had gotten lately between us and H Block.

“So, next thing I know, we’re driving down Charles Street, street was silent as fuck not a sinner on the place. I’d just smoked a joint and was high as hell when Danny starts shooting. I panicked when the shots went off and I hopped out the car. The car took off, and I was stuck there like a damn fool.”

I couldn’t help but shake my head. “You didn’t try to get back in?”

“Nah, man. They were gone, and I freaked out. I didn’t want to stick around a crime scene, so I ran. Ended up at the Public Garden trying to blend in, but it’s October so I’m sat there freezing my ass off. Eventually, I had to leave, but cops were swarming everywhere and I’m still high as fuck so of course, I run into them.”

I laughed a little at the irony, but it quickly faded when he said, “They nailed me for carrying more than the legal amount of weed and suspicion of selling. And there’s already whispers about me being involved in the shooting. If that gets out, I’m screwed.”

“Jesus, Nate. So, what happens now?” I asked, taking the joint back from him.

“I’ve got until Monday to figure things out. That’s when my court appearance is.” Nate said, leaning back in his chair as though he wasn’t too worried.

I took a deep breath. “So, less than 48 hours?”

He nodded, eyes half lidded as the weed hit him. “Yeah, but my record’s clean. It’s the first time I’ve ever been caught with anything, so I should get off light. Worst case? A fine and some community service. I doubt they’ll throw me in jail.”

I passed the joint back to him. “And they don’t have anything solid linking you to the hit?”

“Not yet, I mean from what I remember no one else was around.” he said, exhaling smoke. “But you know how it is. If they start digging, anything could come up.”

I sat there, processing everything. Nate was right, he might be fine, but there was always the chance the cops would sniff out something worse. “You want me to do anything?”

“Yeah, actually” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I’m supposed to do a run in Roxbury tomorrow, but with the heat on me, I need to lay low. Can you cover it?”

I thought about it for a second. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”

Nate nodded, looking relieved. He gave me the address, and I pulled out my phone to type it into my notes app. As I did, I noticed a drop down notification that made me freeze.

“@y/ny/l/n2 liked your photo.”

I blinked, staring at the screen. Y/n Y/l/n? It had been years since I’d heard that name. Curious, I clicked the notification, but by the time the app loaded, it was gone. There was no mention of her like, no new activity on the post. Weird.

Nate noticed I was distracted. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just.. an old name popped up” I said, pocketing my phone.

“Old girl?” he teased, a grin forming on his face.

“Something like that” I muttered, still thinking about Y/n. I hadn’t seen or spoke to her in years, but I couldn’t deny that her name stirred something in me. We had a brief thing back in 2018, nothing too serious, but I always had a soft spot for her.

Nate eventually decided to head home, needing some rest after his long night in the station. I waved him off, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Y/n.

What was she up to these days? Was she still in Boston? Why did she like my post after all this time? What made her look at my Instagram?

That night, I went over everything for the run tomorrow, making sure I had everything in place. But no matter how much I tried to focus, I couldn’t stop thinking about Y/n.

She was one of those girls who left a mark on you, no matter how brief things had been. And even though it had been years, I couldn’t help but wonder what seeing her again might be like.

Monday came faster than I expected, and I found myself standing outside the Boston Municipal Court with Nate. He looked calm, or at least as calm as he could be given the situation. But I knew better. Nate always tried to play it cool, even when he was freaking out on the inside.

We hadn’t talked much since Saturday, and I could tell the nerves were starting to hit him now. His foot tapped restlessly on the courthouse steps as we waited for his case to be called. The morning air was crisp, the fall chill creeping in, and it wasn’t helping either of us settle.

“You’ll be fine” I muttered, trying to reassure him.

He gave me a tight smile. “Yeah, let’s hope so. Just gotta get through this.”

When they finally called Nate’s name, we both stood, making our way inside. The courtroom was filled with the usual mix of people – lawyers, family members, defendants. Everyone there for one reason or another, all waiting for their fate to be decided. As much as Nate tried to shrug it off, this was serious. The rumors about the hit on Charles Street were swirling, and we both knew if they got any real evidence, he was screwed.

Nate’s lawyer made a decent argument – first time offense, clean record, no solid evidence tying him to anything worse than possession. They dragged it out longer than I thought they would, but in the end, the judge gave his ruling.

“A charitable donation of $2,000 and 50 hours of community service” the judge announced, his voice echoing through the courtroom.

“Additionally, Mr. Doe, you are expected to refrain from any drug related activities for the next 12 months. Any violation of this order will result in harsher consequences.”

The words were like a weight being lifted off Nate’s shoulders. He was let off easy. I knew he’d be able to pay the fine without blinking, and the community service? It was nothing. But the whole “refrain from drug related activities” part? That was funny. We both knew that wasn’t happening. Nate just had to make sure he didn’t get caught.

As soon as the court was adjourned, I felt the tension drain out of me. Nate’s future was safe, for now. I clapped him on the back as we left the courtroom. “See? Not so bad.”

Nate grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, man, I guess I got lucky.”

But even though things had turned out okay, I needed to get out of there. The courtroom felt too small, too confined. I needed air, space to think, and to breathe. I left as fast as I could, practically jogging out of the courthouse doors and into the cool October breeze. It hit me like a wave, and I inhaled deeply, trying to clear my head.

That’s when I saw her.

The most strikingly beautiful girl I’d seen in years. A face that was hard to forget. Something in my chest tightened as I watched her walk across the courtyard, almost in slow motion. She was looking down at her phone, completely unaware of my presence.

And then it hit me. I knew that girl.

Wait-Y/n?

The same Y/n I hadn’t seen since 2018. The same Y/n who had been on my mind all weekend after that weird Instagram notification.

My feet were frozen in place, and for a second, I felt like time had stopped. There she was, standing just a few feet away, as if fate had decided to throw us back together after all these years.

Y/n.

What the hell were the odds?

I didn’t know if I should walk up to her or just keep my distance, but before I could make a decision, she looked up from her phone and our eyes locked. My heart skipped a beat.

There was no avoiding it now.

Y/n’s Pov

"Y/n?" His voice was deeper than I remembered, smooth yet surprised.

I blinked, still in awe of how good looking he still was. He had that same disheveled charm, the messy brown hair, sharp jawline, and those piercing eyes that always seemed to see right through me. Only now, he was taller, broader. He had grown into himself, and it was impossible to ignore.

"Chris" I breathed, trying to act casual but failing miserably. "Wow, it’s been a while."

"It really has" he said with that signature smirk of his. "It’s nice to see you. You look great."

I could feel my cheeks heating up. "Thanks. You too."

We stood there for a moment, just taking each other in. It was surreal, seeing him after all these years. I didn’t even know what to say or where to start.

"So.. what are you doing here?" I asked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nate got into a bit of trouble, as you probably saw in there. I’m just here to support him."

"Right" I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around everything. Chris and Nate, in court. A few years ago, I never would’ve pictured it, well maybe Nate but not so much Chris.

"How’s life treating you?" he said, eyes scanning me in that way that made my heart flutter. 

"It’s good, actually. Just finishing up a big project for college. Still getting used to all the work, but I like it."

He nodded, his gaze softening. "I’m glad to hear it. You always had your head on straight."

Before I could respond, Nate appeared, walking up to us with his usual nonchalance. He looked at Chris first, then at me, a flicker of recognition passing across his face.

"I’ll wait for you in the car, man" Nate said, slapping Chris on the back before giving me a nod. "Nice seeing you."

I returned the gesture, watching as Nate sauntered off. It was so strange, seeing both of them like this. Nate barely glanced back, disappearing down the steps toward the parking lot. My eyes flicked back to Chris, who was still watching me with that familiar intensity.

"We should hang out sometime" he said, almost casually, but there was something more to it.

My stomach did a flip. "Yeah, that would be nice."

Chris smiled, a genuine one that sent my pulse racing again. "You’re still living in Beacon Hill, right?"

I shook my head. "No, we moved once I started college. My parents wanted a bigger house in a quieter area, so we’re out in Brookline now."

He nodded, while giving me a soft smirk. "That’s cool. I’ve still got you on Instagram. I’ll shoot you a message, and we can figure something out."

The casual mention of Instagram made my face burn. He definitely saw the notification. I could feel the heat rising up my neck. But if he knew, he didn’t say anything. He just gave me that same charming smile, one that felt all too familiar.

"Yeah, sounds good" I mumbled, trying to keep my cool.

With one last glance, he gave me a quick nod before turning to leave. I watched as he walked away, feeling the blood rush to my face. The way he moved, the effortless confidence - it all hit me at once.

Chris was back in my life, just like that. And somehow, it felt like things were about to get a lot more complicated.

a/n: first chris povvvv

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @slutniolo @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69

[marlshroom]

while combing through mob psycho to find clips for my amv i am making, i noticed a small difference in the way ritsu and mob remember what happened after the highschool bullies attacked them.

when we see mobs flashback, the story is a bit scattered, flashing through mostly static moments loosely pieced together from his hazy memory. the high schooler's faces are hard to make out. the color palette is very washed out, with the core colors being white and desaturated blues, with the red being the most vibrant color, because the key part of his memory is the blood.

[ID: Mob Psycho 100 screencaps showing flashbacks to Mob and Ritsu's childhood accident. The first four are Mob's POV, and they're colored in a glowy blue and white, with Ritsu's blood the darkest and only other spot of color in the scene. We see Mob trying to stop Ritsu from yelling at older kids, Ritsu lying on the ground with a pool of blood seeping from under his head, and Mob looking lost with blood on his cheek. End ID]

in contrast, ritsu has a very clear telling of what happened. the moments are not as static, he remembers what color shirts they were wearing that day, he knows what caused mob to black out, for ???% to wake. the color palette is much more saturated.

[ID: The next four are Ritsu's POV, and they're slightly hazy but in full color. We see Ritsu and Mob struggling while the older kids grapple them, followed by Mob hitting his head against a wall. Ritsu shouts with distress, and black energy and red light suddenly flares up from behind where the bully shoved Mob into the wall. End ID]

i think the contrast is very interesting, especially since both retelling of events happen in the same episode (season 1 episode 5 i believe, where teru is trying to fight mob). one of them has an extremely poor memory, mob can really only infer what happened, he even asks ritsu what he did when he was knocked unconscious. and while ritsu claims that he doesn't remember much of it, his mind is basically plagued from this memory, as much as he would probably like to forget. he thinks about this any time mob is faced with stress. i don't think this was a very groundbreaking discovery, i just love moments like this where i can see how hard people worked on this show and the amount of detail they put in,... they could have very easily just repeated the same flashbacks from mob and add some more contextual shots from ritsus perspective but they chose to make that distinction.... so awesome.

[not-freyja]

New Zelda Game!

Okay cool, cool cool cool cool, I am calm, I am so fucking calm. Looks like Nintendo is staying true to their word that Wild is not getting another game, so now the questions are, what Link is this, where are we in the Timeline, and what information about the game itself can we pick out of these crumbs?

Whose Zelda is it anyway?

So two options:

New boy.

Legend. It’s fucking Legend again sucks to suck bro

Case for new Link and Zelda:

Less messy for the Lore

That’s it, that is the only argument

Case for Leggy boy and Fable:

LA animation style! While it can be fun to bring back older styles of animation for nostalgia/artistic reasons, that seems like a poor choice for *LOZ* games, which are always on the edge of what a game can do. Moving “backwards,” so to speak, in any aspect, would be a disservice to the franchise. However, doing it to maintain consistency for a particular character, and to use the animation style to make sure the audience knows this is the same character from LA is a very simple but effective tactic.

The map! So that shot was so BOTW and so fun, but the view we got wasn’t just recognizable as “Hyrule,” is was, down to the relative heights on the mountain cliffs against each other, the map from ALTTP/ALBW. Nintendo has never repeated a map without it being the same Link. So! Checkmate motherfuckers.

The character designs. That… that was just Legend and Fable, come on. Look at the dress. Every Zelda has a slightly different costume design, and that was hers. Look at Link. Baby boy!

I want this. Let me have it.

Timeline positioning

Okay so if we assume that this is in fact Legend, the next question becomes, “When is it?” Leggy boy currently has 5 games that are canonically his. (Triforce Heroes could be a random other Link, so while we like to say 6 we can’t *prove it.*) So. Let’s break it down.

ALTTP: canonically his first game, can’t be before this one.

Oracles: canonically happen after ALTTP, and he is very much still a child in here.

LA: the game this one is artistically modeled after. Narratively this fits nicely right after Oracles, and in the canon timeline, fits between Oracles and ALBW, so I think a whole new game being crowbarred prior to this one would be… not great for the narrative.

ALBW: This is trickier. No canon time between LA and ALBW is given, it could be a week, it could be years. It is entirely possible that Echoes of Wisdom occurs prior to ALBW, which would make it a direct sequel to LA, which makes the art style make even more sense. It could also be after?

…hang on a fucking minute, lets get the fucking map.

Left, ALTTP. Right, ALBW

Basically the same map! Duh, it’s the same Hyrule. But. BUT. Bottom right, in the lake. Do you see that?!

ALTTP: no log bridge. ALBW: Log bridge. Now, let’s look at the pretty picture from the EOW trailer.

NO FUCKING LOG BRIDGE!

This is before ALBW. Therefore, the game order for The Hero of Legend is

ALTTP, OOS, OOA, LA, EOW, ALBW, TH(maybe)

*cue manic laughter*

Lore Implications

Ganon.

There being a Ganon at all actually has me pointing my finger at the Oracle games and screaming. The TL;DR in those is that there was a plot to resurrect Ganon, each game Twinrova gets closer, but Link stops them. Now, there were also supposed to be three of those games, which means that it is entirely possible that the third unseen Oracle plot—please Nintendo let Link and Farore hang out, I am on my knees barking like a dog—could have resulted in his resurrection. This is the only explanation I have that doesn’t break the Lore or involve Time Shenanigans.

Also, Link does KO the bitch in that opening scene in the trailer. His presence is either just that—a set-up plot point—or him and Link are currently duking it out in the hole. Fun!

Link and Zelda

Now this game is going to put their relationship in the front in the “I have to save them because I love them” way that we usually see from Link’s POV.

Getting it from Zelda’s POV is going to be very interesting. We might be getting a look into her head, into her feelings and thoughts about the whole ordeal of the Legend itself. I hope so. But also, this isn’t just Link and Zelda, this is *Fable and Legend* specifically. The two that were meant to be be siblings but the dialogue that established them as such was cut from the final version of ALTTP. So. This game has the possibility to do three things

Canonize the Prince Legend thing, like they were going to do in the nineties.

Not address the topic at all, leave it nebulous.

Zelink.

None of these are bad choices, but option two is definitely the safest. Both options one and three will cause an uproar from part of the fan base. I can already see the ship wars. Please don’t do this people. Please.

The Holes 🕳️

What are they? Where did they come from? Ganon’s Trident Where do they go? No actually, where do they go? The Dark World (doesn’t make sense in the Lore)? Lorule (that would be a choice)? The Twilight Realm (I am convinced that Lorule and the Twilight Realm are the same place actually and you cannot change my mind)? Some new never seen before parallel dimension? A non-place, like a gap between realities (sexiest option)? I have no idea!

Fun!

That fucking “Fairy”

Tri? Don’t trust it. Will not trust it. Never trust that a companion in a LOZ game is what they first appear to be. Who does Nintendo take me for? A fucking amateur?!

Anyway, I am about 40% convinced that’s Link. I have evidence, but it is circumstantial.

I AM HANDLING THIS NORMALLY.

[coco-cinnamon]

Safe With You | JJ Maybank

୨୧ Warnings: Cursing, smut, angst, soft!sex, unprotected sex, soft!JJ, abuse, violence, has a fluffy ending, 18+ MDNI.

୨୧ Pairings: JJ Maybank x Female Kook Reader

୨୧ Summary: In which JJ helps his girlfriend get away from his father when she goes over to his home to see him.

୨୧ Word Count: 1.5k

୨୧ Author's Note: this fic is from my old blog @babeydollx. this and most of my other fics will be reposted over here to my new blog. Also I fr have no idea why this fic is written from my pov and not Y/N's because that isn't usually how I write but I was too lazy to fix it, sorry! Maybe someday lol.

© coco-cinnamon 2024, please do not steal, copy, modify, repost, or translate my work.

I arrived at JJ's house to see him. JJ and I rarely got time to see eachother since we were on different sides of the island. My parents always had me busy with some shit all the time. It was exhausting and annoying.

I never had time for JJ anymore and I hated it. So, I decided that I would surprise him at his house to see him. I missed him so much and I knew that he missed me too. I couldn't wait to see JJ again and be in his arms.

I walked up to the house and knocked on the door. I waited for a minute or two but there was no answer. I could hear movement inside of the house so I knew that someone had to be home. You decided to try and open the door.

When I turned the door knob the door easily opened. I slowly walked inside and looked around. The house was messy and I could smell beer and weed. As I looked around, I jumped when I herd glass shatter. 

What the hell was going on? Was JJ okay? Was someone trying to hurt him? Millions of questions and thoughts flooded my head as I looked for JJ. The sounds were coming from the backyard. I dashed out to the backyard to see JJ on the ground with an older man on top of him and punching him.

"Stop! Stop hurting him! Please!" I screamed as I ran over to the two men in the backyard. I couldn't pull the older man of of JJ so I grabbed a empty beer bottle off of the ground and smashed it over his head.

Luke stopped punching JJ and got dizzy before collapsing on the ground. JJ sat up on the ground and looked over at me in shock. 

"What the hell are you doing here?!" JJ asked.

"I- I came to see you.." I said.

"Didn't I tell you to not come here?" He asked.

"You did but, it had been so long since I saw you so I thought I could surprise you. I didn't expect for any of this to happen. Who is he? Why was he hurting you?" You asked.

"He's, uhm... he's my dad." JJ mumbled. 9

"He's your father?!" I asked in shock. JJ nodded. "Why would he hurt you?!" I yelled.

"I don't know. Cause he is constantly drunk and high I guess." He shrugged. "I'm use to it by now, he's been doing it for years." JJ said. I could feel tears pooling in my eyes. This was absolutely heartbreaking. How could a parent do this to their child?

Before I could say anything else to JJ, someone tackled me to the ground harshly. I screamed when it happened. 

"GET OFF OF HER!" JJ yelled. Luke was on top of me. I tried to fight Luke off but he began to hit me hard. I screamed and cried more as he continued to hit me. I could hear JJ yelling and trying to pull his father off of me.

Finally, JJ had got Luke off of me and began to beat the shit out of Luke. I scrambled to my feet and watched the scene go down. I could feel tears streaming down my face still and I was in pain. After a few minutes of JJ beating Luke up, he finally got off of him and ran over to me.

He hugged me and I hid my face in his chest. I finally felt safe. I knew that even if Luke woke up again that JJ would keep me safe, he would make sure that Luke wouldn't hurt me again or worse. 

"Are you okay, Y/N?!" JJ asked worried as he checked me for any terrible injuries. 

"I'm okay." I said with a sniffle and nodded. 

"I am so sorry that this happened to you. You shouldn't have had to see any of this." JJ said with a frown as he hugged me again. 

"I'm sorry that you have had to go through this for years.." I said with a frown. "Why didn't you tell me this was happening to you?" I asked.

"Because I didn't want you to worry. This isn't your burden to bare, Y/N.." He said. 

"JJ.. we're a team. You can tell me anything and everything, okay? Whatever you are dealing with, I want to be there for you to help you." I said. JJ nodded slowly. "Anyways, did you want to stay the night at my place tonight? My parents are out of town so we have the house to ourselves." I said with a smile.

"That would be nice. Thanks, Y/N." He said with a smile.

"Anytime." I said as JJ and I get ready to go to my house.

We arrived at my house and went inside together. I got both of us a water bottle and then we both went upstairs to my bedroom. I gave him his water bottle and sat down on the bed beside him and we talked for a while. After we both chatted for a bit, we both went silent not knowing what to do next.

"So, what now?" I asked looking over at JJ. He sat there thinking for a moment before looking back over at me. A smirk spread across his face.

"I have a few ideas." He said with a smirk. Before I could ask him any questions he kissed me passionately. I kissed back, melting into the kiss. The was he kissed me was magical. He always knew how to make me feel a certain way without even trying. 

As we made out, he gently pushed me down onto my back onto the bed. I ran my hands through his soft, blond hair as the two of us made out. Once we got both of our clothes off and out of the way, JJ was positioning himself between my legs.

I held onto his shoulders tightly and sucked in a breath as JJ slowly pushed inside of me. I gasped and moaned out softly. He groaned quietly as he bottomed out. He then began to thrust into me.

I gently threw my head back and groaned out. I held onto him tightly as he fucked into me, slowly picking up the pace. He continued to slowly pick up the pace until he was fucking me at an ungodly pace.

I moaned out even louder than I did before. I arched my back off of the bed and moaned out, almost screaming at this point. I could feel that familiar knot bubbling in the bottom of my stomach and I knew that I was going to cum any second now. I then clenched around JJ, signaling to him that I was going to cum. 

"Fuck, you gonna cum, princess?" He asked as he groaned out.

"Yes, fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!" I yelled. 

"Come on, cum for me." JJ said. With that my eyes rolled back and my legs began to shake as I came hard on JJ's hard cock. He thrusted into me a few more times before coming himself, shooting his load deep inside of me.

JJ pulled out of me and I laid their trying to catch my breath. He laid down beside me and he was also trying to catch his breath. After we both took some time to come down from that, JJ smiled and gently pulled me over and snuggled me.

I giggled when he did so. I always loved to be in JJ's arms. He always made me feel so safe. We both laid there together and talked for awhile while we were tangled in each other's arms. After we both talked and snuggled, we both fell asleep together.

I woke up the next morning to see that JJ was no longer in bed with me. I sat up and rubbed my eyes before looking around my bedroom. No sign of JJ. As I was about to go look around the house for JJ, I saw a note on my bedside table.

I took the note off of the table and unfolded it before reading it. 

Thanks for letting me stay the night at your house, Y/N. Again, I am so sorry that you had to witness all of that yesterday and go through that. I promise I will come back later, I just have a few things to sort out with my dad. I love you, Y/N.

- JJ

I smiled at the note that JJ left me. I thought it was so sweet that he had decided to write me a note. I missed JJ so much already but, I couldn't wait to see JJ again.

Author's Note: tysm for reading, lovies!

[lustfulslxt]

What Are You Doing Step Sis? - Matt Sturniolo

summary : y/n and matt can’t keep the naughty thoughts out of their heads when matt helps her with her math. she tempts him, he gives in

warnings : step sibling kink, smut, swearing, 3rd person pov

a/n : again, i don't want to hear anything about how gross this is. THEY'RE NOT RELATED!!!!!!!! if you're not into this, keep scrolling! x

--

It's been a good hour of Y/N staring at the man in front of her. Every word he said about anything even closely relating to the subject at hand went in one ear and out the other. She couldn't help but take in all of his features, indulging in the beauty of him. There was no denying the attraction Y/N felt towards Matthew. His innocence simply made her want to freak him.

His long slender fingers scrolling through the pages before them, tapping alongside the edges of the paper, flicking the pencil up and down. The veins in his hand prominently protruding, practically causing her to salivate in front of him. The way he would furrow his eyebrows in concentration, his tongue licking his inner cheek. His pink lips puckering and twisting every so often.

Without a doubt in her mind, Y/N was sure Matthew wasn't so innocent underneath the layers of the 'good little son' facade that he portrayed. He played the act very well, but she could see right through him. Imagining what he's truly like underneath had her clenching her thighs from the thoughts alone.

"Y/N, are you even listening?" His voice snapped her from her trance. "How am I supposed to help you if you aren't paying attention?"

She frowns, "I am paying attention!"

"To what?" He chuckles, his white teeth sparkling in the glowing light from her bedside lamp. "It sure isn't what I'm trying to teach you."

"Fair." She smirks, "You're distracting!"

He gapes at her, "I'm distracting? I'm literally talking about quadratic equations."

Y/N bites her lip to prevent her smile from growing. She shrugs, innocently staring up into his eyes. He clears his throat and breaks eye contact with her, ushering her to pay attention to the books before them. Y/N leans closer to him, directing her attention to the laid-out textbooks. She can hear his breath slightly hitch at their close proximity, causing her to grin to herself.

"Okay, continue." She speaks.

He clears his throat once more, shaking his head. "Right."

He can't lie, there's something about her that draws him in. He's so captivated by everything about her. Her sweet voice that he wants to hear in a different setting. Her glowing skin that he just wants to paint with his seed. Her soft hair that he just wants to wrap around his hand. Her body that curves in all the right places, oh, how he just wants to make it shake with orgasm after orgasm.

Y/N feels the same way. It doesn't take a genius to know Matt's a freak in the sheets. Her desire for him only grows more and more each day, tempting her to give in to the fantasy in her head. She struggles to control herself sometimes. Being stepsiblings doesn't help either, the thought of sneaking around with him turns her on.

A few days ago, she asked him to tutor her. She was failing math, and she didn't want to have to retake the class next year. He's a year older, so a year ahead as well, and he was the perfect person to help her, seeing as he's crazy smart. Sure, she really wanted to pass, but she couldn't help but daydream about naughty things every time he helped her.

"You're not a virgin, are you?" Y/N randomly asks, catching Matt off guard.

He coughs a little, choking on the built-up saliva from her being in his presence. "What?!"

"Oh, come on." She glances at him, noticing the faint blush spread across his cheeks. "It's just a question."

It's silent for a moment, the only sound being Matt's pencil dragging across the paper, leaving traces of lead behind. Y/N watches as his eyebrows furrow in thought, his lips twisting at the same time.

"I'm not." He answers, his voice quiet but firm.

She grins in response, "You're a slut, aren't you?"

His mouth falls open, his eyes wide. From the sudden bizarre question, the pencil falls from his fingers and hits the floor. Before he can grab it, she holds her hand up.

"I'll get it." She says in a sultry voice.

She places her hand on his upper thigh, using it as support as she leans down. Her ass slightly lifts up with her movement, the straps from her thong showing from beneath her shorts. Matt can't help but stare at the strings gripping onto her hips so perfectly. He wishes he could replace them with his hands as he takes her from behind.

She grabs the pencil and pops back up, holding it in between their faces. She can see his cheeks growing darker, his lips glistening with saliva from licking them as he stared at her behind. She smirks at him, grabbing his hand with her opposite one, guiding him to take the pencil from her, since he's just staring.

"Right. Sorry." He mutters, visibly shaking his head.

He grabs a textbook and places it over his lap, covering the slight bulge. His action doesn't go unseen, causing Y/N to smirk even more. Definitely a slut.

"Where were we?" She asks, her doe eyes gazing into his.

She'd look so innocent and sexy on her knees, staring into his eyes with his cock sliding down her throat. Her pretty luscious lips wrapped snugly around him, drool dripping from the corners of her mouth. Her small, manicured fingers placed onto his thighs as she gracefully let him shove his cock in and out of her.

"What are you thinking about, hm?" Her voice snaps him from his thoughts.

He looks like a deer in headlights, eyes wide like he's been caught. He quickly recomposes himself, "What's the difference between a mathematical sentence versus a mathematical expression?"

She groans, falling back onto her bed. "You're no fun."

He intently watches the way her boobs bounce with her movement, and the way her shirt lifts up to expose her stomach. He closes his eyes, deeply inhaling to calm himself down. She's not even doing much, and he's getting so worked up, but he knows she knows what she's doing.

"You asked me to tutor you, that's what I'm doing." He responds, firmly.

"Fair enough." She mutters, allowing them to get back to the subject at hand.

-

Another hour or so goes by, both of them strictly focusing on math. They both had internal struggles, wanting nothing more than to toss the books away and go at it on the bed. It's the simplest things that the both of them do, driving one another insane.

"Alright, we'll stop here." Matt says, closing the book he had.

Y/N pouts, "Already?"

He chuckles, "It's been two hours. We can start back up tomorrow."

She huffs, nodding in agreement. She really didn't want him to go. "Wanna stay and watch a movie?"

He gives her a look, like he knows what's on her mind, yet still shrugs. "Sure. Let me take a quick shower first."

"Okay, I'll take one too. Just come back in here when you're done." She says.

The two get up, Matt going to his room, Y/N packing away her school supplies. She feels giddy, knowing he's coming back to her room to watch a movie with her. She quickly grabs her a change of clothes and tosses them on her bed, before heading to the bathroom down the hall. Since Matt's older, their parents agreed he could have the bedroom with the conjoined bathroom. It didn't seem fair to Y/N, but she had no say in it.

After shutting herself in the bathroom, she got her shower started and began removing her clothes. Before she could get in, soft knocks sounded through the door. She grinned to herself, knowing her and Matt are the only one's home. Without a second thought, she opens the door, revealing her fully nude body.

"Holy shit." Matt breathes, unable to keep his eyes from trailing over every inch of her. He quickly catches himself and puts a hand over his eyes. "Why wouldn't you cover up?"

"I'm about to get in the shower." She states in an obvious tone. "Need something?"

"My speaker." He states, keeping his hand firmly placed over his eyes to block his vision.

She opens the door wider, trying to let him inside. When she doesn't say anything, he peeks through his hand, only to see her still standing there, naked. His breath hitches before he closes his hand and slowly attempts to walk towards the sink with no sight. Y/N smirks, walking over to the sink and grabs the speaker for him. Unbeknownst to Matt, she's now directly in front of him. He reaches his hand out, accidentally grazing the soft skin right below her chest.

"Oh my god." He mutters, breathless. He quickly yanks his hand back, grazing over her hard nipple in the process. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." She whispers, "I liked it."

He drops the hand covering his eyes and stares at her. His cheeks grow hotter, his dick twitching at the sight before him. She looks like a goddess. He's frozen in his spot as he towers over her. She looks so innocent, but he knows it's all an act. She can't help but clench around nothing as she gazes up at him. He's so fucking hot, staring down at her like he wants her for his next meal.

"Here you go." She says, her voice barely audible.

He quickly grabs the speaker and turns around, practically running out of the bathroom. He's got a problem that he needs to go fix. Y/N lets out a soft chuckle, returning to her previous task. She gets in the shower, washing up as she's eager to get out and have a movie night with Matt.

While Matt's in the shower, his mind keeps going back to the sight of Y/N naked in front of him. She looked so good, and it's going straight to his dick. Her plump breasts sitting just right on her chest, her nipples poking out. He just wants to grip her tits, sucking and biting all over them. He wants her thick thighs to wrap around his head as he devours her pussy, his tongue gliding all over it, inside and out. Fuck. His dick began throbbing, needy for some kind of stimulation.

After pondering for a moment, he wraps his hand around it and shudders from the sensation. Slowly, he began pumping his hand, squeezing and twisting along the way. His thumb occasionally rubs over his tip, causing him to gasp at the pleasure. His arm flexes, speeding up its pace, jerking his cock with desperation. Flashes of Y/N naked run through his mind again, egging him on. What he would do to be able to get his hands on her.

He tosses his head back, a throaty moan emitting from his mouth. Precum dribbles from his red tip, he rubs his thumb back over it, spreading it around. He can't help but think about how pretty she is, and what she would look like sprawled out for him, legs spread wide open just for him. How wet he could get her, her pretty, pink pussy dripping with arousal. Watching her clench around nothing, desperate for him to fuck her.

His grip tightens around his cock, eliciting another groan from his throat. He can feel his release coming soon. Suddenly, he's very aware that he's touching himself to his stepsister, and quickly stops.

"What am I doing?" He groans and quickly turns the faucet, the hot water instantly running ice cold as it hits him.

He shakes his head, ridding it of the naughty thoughts of the girl in the room next door. He continues on with his shower, quickly washing up just to be in the same room as her again.

Once Y/N finishes her shower, she shuts the water off and wraps herself in her towel. Turning the light off, she heads back to her room. When she notices Matt's bedroom door open, she slows her pace, strutting pass the room. Inside, Matt sees her and feels his stomach tighten. That shower was no good for him, having denied himself of his incoming orgasm, he's now on edge. The way her body is covered in pellets of water, each drop glistening in the hallway light, only makes it harder on him.

When Y/N gets to her room, she quickly dries off and tosses her towel in the hamper. She slips on a clean thong, topping her bottom with the smallest pair of shorts she owns. Lastly, she pulls on small baby tee, purposely not wearing a bra. Just as she pulls it over her head, a couple of knocks sound through her door before it slowly opens.

"You decent this time?" Matt asks, and that's when she notices his eyes are closed.

She giggles, "Yes, Matthew."

"Just making sure." He chuckles, "Don't want a repeat of earlier?"

"You don't?" She asks in a seductive tone, her eyes submissively staring up into his.

He goes to respond, but no words come out. His mouth runs dry as he gazes down at her. He can see her nipples poking through her shirt and he just wants to wrap his lips around them.

He clears his throat, "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" She whispers, stepping closer to him.

She can see him gulp, nervous from their close proximity. Even though he tries to hide it, she knows what he wants. She can practically see the sweat dripping down his forehead. Her hand runs up his arm, goosebumps rising along with it. Unfortunately for her, he takes a step back.

"That." He forces out. "Don't do that."

She shrugs, a smile playing on her lips. She motions to her bed, letting him pass her to take a seat. He sits on the left side, leaning against the headboard as he lays his legs out. She saunters over to her dresser that her TV sits on, bending over to make sure it's plugged in, even though she knows it is. She just wants to tease him.

And it works. Matt's breath catches in his throat for what feels like the millionth time tonight. His eyes burning holes into her behind. The shorts she's wearing leave nothing to imagine as they ride up her ass, hugging her center that peeks from between her legs. Imagining his cock prod against her entrance, he feels himself growing beneath his sweatpants. Matt quickly grabs one of her extra pillows and places it on his lap, folding his hands on top of it. When Y/N turns around, she instantly notices the pillow and smirks to herself, knowing what he's hiding.

She gets on the right side of the bed, but lies on her stomach at the opposite end, her feet closer to the top of the bed and her head at the end. Her hand takes the remote and flicks through Netflix, browsing for something to watch. Matt stares at the TV intently, forcing himself to keep his eyes there instead of wandering like they so badly want to.

"This, okay?" She asks, glancing back at him. 

He nods, not caring what they watch for he won't be able to pay attention to it.

Y/N clicks play and lets the fun begin. Matt's eyes involuntarily fall to her plump ass that's basically in his face. He wants to reach out and grip the plush skin, massaging it. He can't help but imagine himself removing her clothing and spreading her cheeks, letting a long string of saliva fall in between and drip down her core. He imagines himself rubbing her folds, mixing his spit in with her own juices, his fingers putting pressure wherever she needs it. He thinks about the erotic sounds she would make from his touches. His dirty thoughts only cause his dick to grow even more.

Suddenly, Y/N hitches her left leg up, her knee now beside her waist, perfectly exposing her clothed pussy. Matt has to suppress the moan that threatens to leave his mouth from the sight. She's driving him crazy. Y/N subtly shifts her hips, and Matt can't take his eyes away. The piece of clothing that is supposed to cover her up isn't doing a very great job, seeing as it's now pulled to the side a bit, revealing the smallest glimpse of her pussy.

Without thinking, Matt slides his hand underneath the pillow and grasps at his clothed cock. He's rock hard already. He slightly palms himself, his eyes boring into the girl lying in front of him.

"Not really sure I'm getting into this." Y/N's voice suddenly rings through the air, causing Matt to halt his movement as they lock eyes.

"D-do you want to put on something else?" He asks, his breath rather choppy.

She rolls onto her back, putting her knees up so she's spread just for him. "Or we could just talk."

Matt can't tear his eyes away from her center, yearning to remove the fabric covering it and dive in. He licks his lips, his teeth tugging on bottom one as he tries to control himself.

"Come down here with me." She speaks, pulling him from his thoughts.

He takes a deep breath before crawling down beside her. He lays on his side to prevent himself from crushing his hard on. He props himself up on his elbow, his hand holding his head as he faces her. She turns to look at him and smiles.

"Do you think we would've ever met if our parents never got together?" She asks.

"I don't know. Maybe." He answers, his eyes never leaving her face.

"We do go to the same school." She adds, "I'd like to think we would've."

He whispers back, "Me too."

She takes his free hand and plays with his fingers. He's desperately trying to make his erection go away, but to no avail, it's as hard as ever. Luckily for him, she hasn't noticed it. Yet.

"Do you ever wish our parents never met?" She questions, staring deeply into his eyes, trying to read every emotion.

"I don't know. Do you?"

She sighs, dropping his hand which so happens to fall on her chest. He tenses but can't bring himself to pull away. He can feel her heartbeat below his palm, the heat of her skin engulfing his hand. She loves the feeling of his hand on her, but still wishes the piece of clothing wasn't keeping them from being skin to skin.

She moves her leg slightly, accidentally brushing against his dick. His breathing comes to a stop from the contact, and he prays she doesn't feel how hard he is, but she does. However, she chooses not to speak on it. She only grins to herself as she moves her leg back to where it was, her heels below her ass, her center on show. After thinking for a second, she brings her hand down and places it on his cock, causing him to gasp.

"What are you doing?"

"Hmm?" She hums, innocently.

"W-what are you doing?" He repeats.

She locks eyes with him, "Do you want me to stop?"

His mouth parts as she begins to palm him. His eyes flutter close for just a second before they open and his hand wraps around her wrist. "No, but you probably should."

Despite what he says, he doesn't move her hand. She grabs him through his sweats, moving in a jerking motion. He bites down on his bottom lip, desperate to not make a sound, but the slightest touch from her feels so good. With her free hand, she removes his hand that’s on her wrist and moves it to her core.

"Fuck." He groans, feeling the heat of her on his hand.

"Want to?" She smirks, causing his eyes to widen.

"W-we can't." He stutters, shaking his head.

She only continues palming him through his sweatpants. "Then why haven't you moved your hand?"

"Because I don't want to." He chokes out, applying pressure to her pussy.

She lets a small moan slip, enjoying the feeling. The noise she lets out seems to go right through him, because he's suddenly pressing down harder as he cups her, eliciting another delicious sound from her. As if he can't help it, he's rubbing his palm into her, causing her to buck her hips. Her grip on his covered cock tightens, desperate to make him feel good.

"We shouldn't be doing this." He grunts out, thrusting into her hand.

She moans as he continues rubbing her through her shorts. "Then stop."

"I can't." He croaks out, suddenly hovering over her with his crotch pressed into hers. "You drive me fucking crazy."

With that, he smashes his lips onto hers in a hot and needy kiss. He grinds down into her, moans coming from both of them. His hand grips her throat as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. He thrusts into her again, causing her to gasp from the sensation. He takes the opportunity to shove his tongue in her mouth, exploring it. Their tongues dance together, soft and wet.

His mouth moves from hers and onto her neck. Her breathing grows erratic as she pants in his ear, the feeling of his lips working her sensitive skin getting the best of her. She's been waiting for this moment ever since she laid eyes on him.

He can't get enough of her. Her honey vanilla scent floods his senses as he buries his face into the crook of her neck. Her soft skin tastes sweet under his tongue as he licks and sucks the skin. His teeth graze over it, nibbling down to leave behind bruises. He continues down her shoulder, leaving open mouthed kisses. He leaves a wet trail of saliva in his wake, Y/N moaning at the feeling.

"God, I want you so bad." He moans against her as his sucks on her collarbone.

"T-take me." She breathes out, arching her back into him.

He lifts up her shirt, revealing her supple breasts. It only takes a mere second for his mouth to return to her, licking up from her navel to the valley of her breasts. She continuously whines underneath him. His mouth licks down her boob, taking her nipple in his mouth and harshly sucking on it. His hands run up her body, caressing all over her curves. His fingers tweak her opposite nipple, pinching it, eliciting a high-pitched moan from her.

"Sound so fucking pretty." He groans, moving his mouth to the opposite nipple, trading places with his hand.

She suddenly pushes him back, sitting up while doing so. He looks at her with a questioning glance. She quickly removes her shirt, so, he does the same. As soon as the pieces of clothing hit the floor, she's pressed back into the bed with him on top of her, their lips reuniting. Their kiss is feverish, teeth clashing, panting into one another's mouths.

"Are we really doing this?" He breathes.

"Please." She begs in a whine. "I need you, Matthew."

His eyes practically roll back into his head from the sound of her moaning his name. His fingers poke into the waistband of her shorts, swiftly pulling them and her panties down in one go. Yanking them off of her feet, he tosses them aside. Spreading her legs, he groans at the sight between them. Just as he expected.

Her pretty pink pussy glistens with juices, clenching, ready to be filled. His hands wrap around the outside of her thighs, his lips meeting the inner parts. He trails soft kisses along the skin, fueling her arousal. His lips nip at her thighs, teasing her, leaving her whining for more.

"Fuck, don't tease." She pleads, bucking her hips.

He chuckles, before finally complying, eager to taste her. He pokes his tongue out, dragging it from her sopping entrance up to her aching clit, pulling a long moan from her mouth. His tongue glides over every inch of her pussy, sucking in her juices.

"God, you taste so fucking good, baby."

Her hands grip his hair, tugging as she arches her back at his words. He moans into her center, sending vibrations through her body. He wraps his lips around her clit, sucking on it softly. His hand trails up her thigh, inching closer to her core. His mouth pulls away, peppering kisses along her thigh as his fingers glide through her lips.

Her skin is on fire beneath his touch. The way his hands massage into her, the way his mouth devours her. She's on cloud nine. Her stomach tightens, her orgasm building quickly as he continues working on her. She's hot below him, panting out every second. Her mind is hazy, fogged with arousal.

Suddenly, he shoves a finger into her, causing her to gasp from the shock. His finger pumps in and out of her, causing her legs to shake as the tense feeling in her stomach grows stronger. His mouth moves back to her clit, flicking his tongue on it over and over. She clenches her thighs around him, her orgasm hitting her out of nowhere. Continuous waves of pleasure wash over her as she trembles underneath him, her juices spilling out of her. He doesn't stop. He keeps going, adding another finger to her soaked entrance.

"S-shit, Matt. Too much." She cries out, pushing his head away.

"Fuck, I can't help it. You taste so good." He sighs, licking her fluids from his lips.

He pulls his hand away from her pussy, bringing his fingers to her mouth, and hungrily sucking them, desperate to taste more of her. He hovers back over her, slamming his lips onto hers once again, the remnants of her still on his lips. She can't help but moan into the kiss, already needing more.

"Want to feel you inside me." She breathes against his mouth.

"Thought it was too much?" He teases, causing her to push him back.

His head hits the pillows at the top of the bed, and she crawls on top of him, straddling his legs. She pulls at his sweatpants, pulling them and his boxers down. He lifts his hips to assist her, allowing her to fully remove them. She slides higher up, hovering over his member. She grabs his dick beneath her, stroking it a few times, before lining it up with her entrance and sinking down on it.

"Oh my god." He moans, tossing his head back.

Y/N leans forward, her face buried in his chest as she breathes heavily. She leaves soft kisses over his torso as she adjusts to his size. She sits back up, placing her hands on his chest for support. Slowly, she begins to rock against him, both of them lowly moaning from the feeling. His hands meet her hips, helping her move. They trail down to her ass, gripping it and lifting it up, pulling it back down onto her. Her pussy clenches around him, her juices lubricating her enough to slide up and down as she bounces.

"Feel so good." She whines, her eyes squeezing shut.

He licks his lips as he takes in her appearance, indulging in the way she looks as she takes all of him. Her boobs bounce up and down with every movement. He can't help but take them in his hands, kneading them in his palms. He bites his bottom lip as he thrusts deep into her, hitting the spongey spot that drives her insane. Her mouth falls open and her eyebrows furrow.

His hands wrap around her back, pulling her flush against his chest, and thrusts up into her repeatedly. Lewd moans continuously emit from her mouth, her body shaking above his. He groans beneath her, loving the way she wraps around him so perfectly. His hand grasps her jaw, pulling her face to his. He studies it for a moment, taking in the way the pleasure consumes her. Within seconds, his lips are capturing hers in a sloppy kiss.

His strokes speed up, leaving her body convulsing. She can't help the outpour of moans at this point. Tears well up in her eyes, the pleasure building up quickly. His thrusts grow erratic, his orgasm reaching its peak. With a loud groan, he's spilling his nut into her, coating her walls. The feeling of his warm, gooey seed filling her up causes her to let go, cumming all over his dick.

"Oh my god." They both moan in unison, causing them to breathily laugh together.

She falls against his torso, wore out from their activities. He runs his hands up her back and into her hair, gathering it and pulling it to one side and placing a few kisses on her exposed neck. On shaky knees, she lifts herself from him and falls to his side.

"That was insane." He breathes.

"Yeah." She agrees, a smile playing on her lips. "Can't wait to do it again."

The two look at each other with goofy grins on their faces before Matt leans over her from the side, wrapping his arms around her as he places his lips on hers once more.

"We're home!" A voice calls out from the opposite side of the house, causing them to look at one another with wide eyes. They quickly scramble to get dressed, laughter pouring out of them as they scurry to hide their previous activities and act normal.

—

a/n : i’ll take one pls thank u. enjoy xxx

[ruegarding]

for context, @rosabell14 is referring to tags on this post.

ok we're going off-road w this one

generally speaking, i like the concept of "some things aren't meant to be controlled," which annabeth says to percy after he controls the poison. this is said and then immediately forgotten abt, however, this could be another angle of change, a reoccurring theme in hoo, as well as a continued theme from pjo.

obviously, from pjo, the change is addressed w the myths, the theme of yielding, and w the conclusion of the story:

hoo continues this concept of change w the percy-jason switch, the greek-roman conflict, the idea of what an identity is and how to change it, etc. there's a lot of individual character work w this idea, but there's less of a mythological concept attached to it. gaea is a static and flatly written antagonist, octavian becomes incredibly flat as a character and his development into this sort of fanatical antagonist that is never explored, there's a lot of teeth-gritting abt how the gods are gods and they never change and everyone just has to accept it, the myths aren't challenged in the same way they were in pjo, etc. there's a few major exceptions, i'll get to that.

this is a glaring issue i have w hoo. it wouldn't be as bad as a standalone, but hoo makes the entirety of the previous series meaningless. in tlo, percy asks for kids to get claimed and be trained so when (or if) they have to go on dangerous quests/fight monsters/etc they're both older and more experienced. this is the conclusion to the war and how the status quo is changed (disability accommodations expanded to reach more ppl and work more effectively).

hoo, however, does not do this. camp jupiter infamously has a child army while the adults are retired, all of the new characters are younger than percy (who is still 16), and only two of them have spent a long period of time training, although hazel's isn't formal/in a camp (and piper doesn't even learn how to fight until book four ffs). this sort of immediately bastardizes pjo in a way that is never acknowledge by the series and makes it, and anything after it, a failure as a continuation of pjo.

and that's where this theme could've come in. when bob is remembering who he is, him and percy have this back-and-forth abt identity. percy relates to bob bc he, too, just had his memory erased and that vulnerability exploited (annabeth's perspective in this conversation is very different bc she doesn't have this same experience nor does she understand percy's feelings abt it. a good way to build tension using different povs, but, once again, doesn't get fully utilized). in the conclusion that conversation, there's an interesting moment:

this is that idea again, "some things aren't meant to be controlled," like fate, like identity. titans are meant to "be the same...forever." and here percy is, not only as the catalyst for change by throwing bob into the river lethe, but also by encouraging him to commit to this change once bob should know better. this was percy's role in the previous series, as well, where he constantly challenges the perspective of other characters to be more quote human unquote.

afterwards, annabeth has a similar moment w damasen:

i also think these are very funny to have side-by-side, just as character analysis, bc percy is very much both insecure and empathetic like u can choose ur future, it's up to u, etc, whereas annabeth is like i am right, listen to me.

anyway, both of these moments repeat the idea from pjo/tlo: immortals can't change. but they are changing. and they will change. the rules of the world are malleable (i also think hazel's monologue abt seeing the minotaur as a victim would be another aspect of this to explore). what abt traditions? what abt camp jupiter's child army? how should these change? going back to the og thought, tho, what shouldn't change? what are the "some things" that aren't meant to be controlled? how do you balance traditions and reform (great opportunity to use octavian btw!)? why can't a god be human, act human? why are the ancient rules important? that's an important discussion to have if we're growing this universe.

i don't particularly like that hoo immediately reverts back w the premise of the story, like i was talking abt earlier, nor do i think these characters were introduced or used well in canon, but using these characters, these moments, these conversations, rick could've salvaged this mess by embracing change isn't a static thing. he doesn't, tho, so it's all lost potential.

separately, something i've always liked abt the akhlys fight is that percy wins the literal, physical fight against her, but loses the metaphorical fight. he gets to walk away, but he walks away miserable. and this is bc the gods aren't ppl, they're physical representations of concepts. and percy has this thought abt tartarus and gaea while in tartarus, and i believe it's brought up in boo, but it's barely relevant. it's something i wish was explored more.

now onto specific characters. i talk abt my general idea here, ie this moment in tartarus is forcing percy and annabeth to confront their worst-case scenarios.

for annabeth, i've repeatedly gone on record to say i hate the way annabeth is written in hoo, here is an example, ie her fatal flaw does not come thru in her character (i also think she and percy switched characterizations from pjo to hoo, but...). separate issue is that annabeth's character revolves around percy a lot. so there are two issues i would focus on, largely bc she's not written well and doesn't have established unique conflicts. like,

this is a big revelation at the end of hoh, that she has to "step back" and she can't "protect everyone she love[s]." except it doesn't make any sense. tlo ended w annabeth telling percy to give luke her knife which luke uses to kill himself. not to mention, thalia's sacrifice on hbh. ALSO. percy accepting the prophecy and "taking the brunt of the danger"! and finally. annabeth has been at camp for 7-8 years. 1) she should have relationships w these ppl and 2) she should care that some of the ogs died in the previous war (which would also require rick to figure out who died lol). but the point is, this isn't a new conflict for annabeth!

the thought she had in moa abt having to accept she's not always the best person for the job:

this is not built up nor is it delivered on, but would be interesting, given that she demanded to be on the quest and if there was an actual power struggle instead of writing her as the de facto leader. this would be a better conflict than accepting that "she couldn't protect everyone she loved" when she has historically not been able to protect everyone she loved.

anyway, back on topic.

first, this moment exists to challenge her perception of percy, which is important to challenge bc she quite frankly has an unhealthy attachment to him. other ppl have said this better than i, so here's a post abt codependency and p*rcabeth and here's another one i rbed a while ago.

tldr; rick treats annabeth's abandonment issues/possessiveness/codependency as like. cute, peak romance. and he's been doing this since pjo, right, like annabeth's abandonment issues and possessiveness didn't matter when it was thalia joining the hunters,—bc there's no romance trope here w thalia—but gods forbid percy speak to rachel.

and this doesn't change in hoo. in fact, it's worse. like,

i'm going to [statement redacted] rick for this. what part of this is cute??? i'm killing it with fire.

so anyway, i want to treat annabeth's possessiveness/etc as an actual, consistent, character flaw, that she can grow out of, even. maybe even connect it to her hubris or her rsd. explore her feelings abt luke now that we have her pov to do it in. the fallout from this moment w akhlys is a great way to begin delving into that bc it's a shocking moment for her.

second, and going back to the theme of change, annabeth is different from percy in the sense that she has a different relationship to the gods than him (which i'm comparing bc i think rick (and fandom) has a hard time giving these two consistent and separate personalities/beliefs post pjo). the two times she has rebelled against the gods directly were bc of percy's influence (again, this is percy's role in pjo), 1) in the zoo truck, a scene that only takes place bc percy challenged her view of the poseidon-athena rivalry and their place in it, and 2) w hera where the first words out of annabeth's mouth are literally "percy is right."

i find this interesting especially bc her fatal flaw is hubris, which is common in mythology and frequently ends up fatal bc ppl challenge the gods. so, annabeth using the gods and these stories to keep her hubris in check makes complete sense.

and it seems like this is the same approach she's using w percy:

percy is directly challenging a god for power, and more than that, he's challenging a domain he's not supposed to have control of at all.

very interesting! does not get explored. such is common for hoo.

for percy, this scene is part of a long-running conversation of his powers (which is a huge part of his disability coding!!!!!). and it doesn't go anywhere.

percy has established anger issues and implied emotional dysregulation. this has been a thing since the beginning, literally chapter one of tlt! punishing percy for this when he's clearly not getting the support he needs is. a choice. also there's the issue that hoo kinda. erases this aspect of percy's character until the confrontation w akhlys, which is a separate but related issue.

there really should've been more buildup to this outburst (eg: in son percy punches a shelf in the library and immediately feels guilty bc he scares frank and hazel. percy is in an incredibly stressful situation; this should've happened more), but that would mean rick would treat it and the disability conversation seriously (which falls flat after son) and do less teeth-gritting abt the whole gods thing.

so, to go back on my "using the different povs to build tension was wildly underutilized" train, a featured part of almost everyone's pov is that percy is very kind, and gentle, and forgiving. i discuss a moment w frank being impressed w percy's selflessness here and he also says that he would follow percy anywhere, jason says percy is "a nice guy" after like 2 days, nico has his whole thing, hazel says "percy was a child of poseidon’s better nature," going on to describe him as gentle, etc.

and all of this praise goes nowhere and kinda just becomes percy is so awesome...and then turns into everything is percy's fault in boo...it's bad writing.

but it's an interesting opportunity to play w perspective. percy in pjo is dehumanized in that he is both villainized and idolized, and obviously hoo is continuing the trend w idolization. rick sets up a great plotline w this in moa:

and this doesn't go anywhere bc apparently percy's problem is that he needs to learn to step back. which. part of this is bc rick recycled plotlines from percy and gave them to other characters, which means that percy cannot be in character anymore without making themlook bad (the recycled plotlines i'm talking abt are the idolization, imposter syndrome, wanting to step back but constantly pushed into the spotlight, being seen as different/elevated status bc of ur parentage, struggling to connect to who your parent is, even the dehumanization as a weapon is straight out of percy's writing in pjo). this is a big problem w hoo in general ie characters becoming ooc by necessity (see: bad writing). the other part to blame is that rick is literally trying to redo tlo what w the whole "you are not the hero." it's all the same from pjo except written worse. it's a running theme of hoo (and a bonus). bad writing all the way down!

ANYWAY. so pjo ends w percy at an elevated status bc he 1) survived an unsurvivable prophecy, 2) was offered godhood, and 3) turned down godhood to improve the lives of the demigods while all the demigods watched. and he has the curse of achilles but. we all know how that went. the point is, all of this puts percy on a pedestal. i like to think it's the biggest reason hera kidnapped percy: if he said no, if he refused, she would've lost the support of almost all the demigods at chb (also the metaphor for the audience lol). i think making percy go on the quest, or at least to new rome, is the only good bit of world building rick did between books.

the problem is, rick is kinda all over the place w how percy is perceived and misses both the point of percy's character (callback to what i said abt his disability) and the world building of the previous series (what happened to power-scaling, narrative consequence, etc fr). that's what creates the flip-flopping "percy is perfect" and "everything is percy's fault," and neither are particularly good reads.

going back to annabeth, i don't think she's an exception in idolizing percy. she has no reason to see percy's vindictive side bc he works hard to hide it. even w crusty, annabeth is preoccupied. annabeth is smart, she's not omniscient. instead, there's the famous "percy is too nice" from som. i also like to think this is why she keeps trying to talk to percy abt luke as if luke is a good person who didn't try to kill percy. she doesn't understand that percy would hate luke for betraying him bc why would he? percy is a good person.

(for the record, i think the exceptions are: 1) grover, who chooses not to bring it up w the exception of his nemesis comment in tlt, 2) rachel, who made a painting where percy's "expression in the picture was fierce—disturbing, even—so it was hard to tell if I was the good guy or the bad guy" and simply said that's how he looked, and 3) arguably nico—considering percy has attacked him before—but i do think "very [dangerous]. to his enemies." does a good job of capturing that, it just doesn't go anywhere).

so, to condense all of this, ppl are idolizing percy in terms of both strength and morals and percy feels stifled by this knowing that he is not as strong or good as ppl think (and also by the fault that he was demonized prior and has corresponding low self-esteem bc of that lol). keep this in mind, i'm changing the topic.

in botl, percy's torture scene is used primarily to set up how powerful he is. he can cause an eruption that necessitates the evacuation of thousands of ppl and wake the biggest threat in greek mythos, but he would never know that if he wasn't back into a corner. bc that's not who he is. he shies away from power and titles. he wins his fights w strategy and very rarely relies on his powers to overpower his opponents.

just to clarify, i categorize percy's powers in two sorts of ways: involuntary and voluntary. involuntary is like speaking to sea creatures, healing in water, things that don't require a lot of energy/effort/focus. he's not scared of this. he's wary of the voluntary, powerful explosions, the things that set him apart from his peers. that's what i'm referring to in this section.

so, percy has to come to terms w the fact that he 1) blew up a mountain, 2) survived blowing up a mountain, and 3) woke typhon. and what does he say immediately after that?

he immediately deflects! he wasn't in control, it wasn't him that's powerful, it was an accident, and besides, he can't do it again bc he almost died. and what's even more interesting is the only time he uses his powers after this (in botl) is when grover asks him to stop the fire in the woods.

so, what lesson did percy actually take from mt saint helens? that he's dangerous. very interesting to use this teaching moment and have the protagonist come to the quote wrong unquote conclusion.

in hoh, we don't have a purpose for the torture scene. there's no significance to confronting how powerful percy is. percy is not addressing his self-sacrificing tendencies nor his propensity for bottling his emotions up. there's no questioning of p*rcabeth's relationship. there's no questioning of the gods. it's a cool scene w no narrative purpose.

so, take two. what is percy supposed to be learning from akhlys? how do we relate this to percy taking the wrong lesson from mt st helens?

at the end of botl, nico comes up w the river styx plan and percy takes almost a full year to agree to it. how much further ahead in the war would they have been if percy had accepted the curse sooner? how many fights could percy have won faster if he used his powers? if he trained his powers? if he trusted his powers?

there's a really interesting comparison w phorcys and akhyls where percy doesn't attempt to fight phorcys bc he assumes he won't be able to overpower him,

but w akhyls he tries anyway,

bc he's backed against a corner. and he succeeds.

percy is a character who very much embodies duality. i've talked abt this before wrt his loyalty being both his greatest strength and greatest weakness and how it clashes w his desire for freedom, but it's true for almost every trait. he's honest and manipulative. he's ruthless and merciful. he's kind and violent. he's looked up to and looked down upon. he's the saint and the scapegoat. etc etc. and percy responds to this by frequently trying to deny his quote worse unquote traits until they eventually bubble up and explode out of him. this is part of why juno calls him a loose-canon (which btw, i love. everyone has been treating him as a loose canon and no one on this side has the balls to say it until then, seven books in).

all this to say, *ethan voice* it's abt balance! this moment should've been abt percy confronting his unfair treatment! the idolization from his peers! the demonization of his flaws/disability!

thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

[badkitty3000]

Can you write Five (adult body) getting with a gorgeous woman for the first time and going on a bit of a power trip and just extreme edging and playing with her and kinda humiliating (actions not words)

Sorry this took a bit longer to write...I got a little carried away with this one and it ended up being longer than anticipated. But I loved this idea and I got very excited about it!

I decided to write this from Five's POV. I still consider this a reader-insert because the MC is not named. But there is no use of "you" in it, only "she" and "her".

Thank you so much for this request. It was really fun to write! 😽

Tamed

Five x Reader One-shot, 8143 words

Warnings: Smut, Edging, Physical age difference (older woman, younger man), everyone is an adult

I sigh heavily as I survey the shelf of cereal in front of me. I mull over my choices, humming quietly along with the Neil Diamond song playing on the grocery store speakers overhead. Wheaties, Grape Nuts, Cheerios. I wonder what the fiber to protein ratio is on these? God, I’m bored. Is this really my life, now? It’s true that I wanted a peaceful life without the threat of the world ending or the people I know getting obliterated and dying. And it was nice for a while, don’t get me wrong. I liked not having to worry about my family, now that they were all safe. And I didn’t need to act as a cold-blooded serial killer anymore. I could just be the normal man I had always wanted to be. But I’m beginning to think that normal equals boring.

I have my powers back, so at least there’s that. As much as I wanted a simple life for myself, that doesn’t mean I wanted to be just like everyone else in every way. Those years of having no powers were a downright nightmare, so thank Christ that didn’t last. So, yes, I can blink and time travel and kick the living shit out of almost anyone, but it’s still all so…ordinary. Most days I just wander around the city, enjoying the peace and quiet, but also wondering what to do next. There has to be something else, right?

I am still in the body of a much younger person, despite being mentally in my 60s. Physically, I’m around 20, and while I’m definitely not complaining, it has left a lot of years ahead of me. It has also complicated the dating scene. In the beginning, I had to wait it out a few years, and let me tell you, it’s rough being a horny old man in a 13 year old body. And a horny 13 year-old with the mind of an old man. But I did end up getting plenty of handjobs, so there’s that. Unfortunately, they were all self-executed.

But now…now, I am starting to reap more benefits of this strong and youthful body I found myself dumped back into all those years ago. Women notice me. Men notice me. And the attention is not half bad. It still leads to another dilemma, however.

Let’s say I would like to indulge in some adult activities with a woman. I have no problem finding someone to fill that role. That makes me sound like an asshole, but it’s true. On my way into the store today, I noticed a young woman looking me over like I was a piece of meat. I’m fairly certain that if I had wanted to, I could have strolled on over, struck up a conversation, and had her back at my place in an hour. I know this, because I’ve done it before. But afterwards, I feel like a real creep. They don't know my real age, obviously, and unless they have some unresolved daddy issues, I’m guessing they would be none too happy to find out. Not to mention there’s usually not a whole lot for the two of us to discuss. So, I ignored this most recent prospect and am now standing in front of a line of breakfast foods before heading on over to the soup aisle. 

I sigh heavily again.

“If you get the bigger box, it’s actually more economical, you know.”

I glance up, Fiber One cereal in hand, to find a woman standing next to me, the amusement on her face giving the impression that she’s up to something crafty. My mouth opens partly, but no sound comes out. She is maybe the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m talking supermodel-gorgeous. With her dark auburn hair and dramatic curves, I can’t stop staring like there’s something wrong with me. And here’s the real kicker: she’s probably in her mid-forties. Finally, I find my voice.

“Nope. I have a coupon, so…the smaller box is cheaper,” I offer, shaking the box in front of me with a smile. As if what I just said is a real panty dropper.

She nods, still smirking, and then I see her light brown eyes slowly move their way up my body until they’re back at my face again. One of her eyebrows quirks up playfully, insinuating she might like what she sees. She’s not even trying to hide it. 

“Shouldn’t you be buying Lucky Charms or something?”

I let out a small laugh and run a hand through my hair. “Do you mean, shouldn’t I be buying a kid’s cereal instead of something your grandpa probably eats?”

She shrugs. “Something like that.”

“Let’s just say my outward appearance is not a direct correlation to my mental maturity.”

She puts a hand on her hip and eyes me up and down again. “Is that so? Well, they say age is just a number, right? As long as that number is 18 or older.” She gives me a wink.

I almost keel over into the oatmeal, but I keep my cool. I return her flirtatious come-on with my own, flashing her a slanted smile as my gaze travels over her amazing body. I figure if she’s not going to be subtle, neither am I. 

“I can assure you two things. One, I am safely past that number. And two, if you need further proof, I’d be happy to demonstrate that I am most definitely not a kid.”

She lets out a breathy laugh and I pride myself on the fact that I may have flustered her.

“Cute and confident. I like that. Unless it’s all talk, of course.”

I cock my head to the side, a smug smirk on my face. “One way to find out.”

The corner of her mouth turns up, amused with this little game. “And what way is that?”

“Why don’t I whip it out and show you?”

I may have actually shocked her, because her eyes widen for just a split second before her devious grin is back. “Right here in the cereal aisle?”

I nod, and then reach into my pocket. I see her eyes wander down to my crotch. Then I pull out my wallet with a flourish and hold it up. She laughs loudly and genuinely, while I pretend I don’t understand, furrowing my brow in confusion.

“I was talking about my I.D. to show you my age. Did you think I meant something else?”

My face breaks into a grin and I put my wallet back. She smiles again. “Very clever. You must have a pretty big brain to go along with that handsome face.”

This a total, obvious set up, so of course I take the bait. “I haven’t had any complaints on size,” I answer, looking her dead in the eye.

She pauses for a second, as if mulling it over. Then she nods a little. “Hmmm,” she says, her pink lips pressed together. Without another word, she turns and starts pushing her cart down the aisle, away from me. I watch a little sadly, even though the view from behind is spectacular. I feel like I need to say something, so I call out.

“Aren’t you even going to give me your name?”

She doesn’t stop, but she answers back over her shoulder. “For now you can just call me Mrs. Robinson.” Then she pauses and turns to look at my stunned expression. “And if you understand that reference, then I hope we run into each other again very soon.”

I watch, dumbfounded, as she turns down the next aisle and is out of sight.

“Fuck,” I exhale out loud. Then I look down at my box of old man cereal and frown. “Of all the things I could be holding, did it have to be something that advertises the benefits of fiber? Couldn’t she have caught me with some wine or a goddamn box of magnum condoms?”

I glance up after I drop the box into my shopping basket, just as another woman passes by. This one, however, looks to be about 90 and is using a walker. Her confused look tells me there is nothing wrong with her hearing though, and she caught every word I just said out loud to myself. I smile, embarrassed.

“There’s good coupons in the ad today. Might want to check it out,” I offer.

She gives me a terse nod and she’s off, probably to buy the same cereal as me, and I head toward the check-out shaking my head at my dumbassery.

Five days later, and I’m back at the store. This isn’t my first trip back, hoping to run into the beautiful woman again. After learning through the way of the kid at the check-out that first day, I found out her name and situation. Apparently, she is quite the cougar on the hunt. At least according to Brad the bagger. She picks out a new piece of young, clueless arm candy at least once every couple of weeks. Even one of the stockboys in the back was chosen at one point. The stories he told the other guys at the store were legendary. She likes to be the teacher, and show them how to do things right. This is all hearsay, but I’m inclined to believe it after our little back-and-forth the other day.

She doesn’t know what I know, though. And that is the fact that I don’t need a teacher. I do things right the first time. And I do them pretty fucking well.

The woman has gotten under my skin. She is the excitement I have been looking for. And her age and my age, in this situation, aren’t a problem. It’s perfect, actually. So, each day since that day I saw her, I have been dressing in my black, three-piece suit and going back to the store. I look around, doing a few loops until I’m certain I’m not missing her, and then I buy some random item so I don’t look too suspicious. A carton of milk, a toothbrush, a stalk of celery. Brad the bagger has me figured out, though, and he gives me a lopsided smile that I know means “Better luck next time”.

This time, though, when I make my way down the frozen food aisle, I stop when I hear a voice from behind me.

“How did that cereal work out for you? Did you get enough fiber intake?”

I smile to myself before turning around. I put my hands in my pants pockets and spin on my heel, facing her head-on. She’s just as fucking gorgeous as the first time I saw her. Maybe even more. The tight, white, button-down shirt she is wearing is sleeveless, and I can see she is wearing a black bra underneath. It shows off her toned, tanned arms and just enough of her cleavage to make it interesting. The small shorts she has on are hugging her hips just right and those eyes of hers are framed in dark lashes that blink slowly as she looks me over. 

“Yes, actually. I think I got all of my nutritional needs met, thank you.”

She nods. “Nice suit.”

“Thanks.”

“You know, I wasn’t really sure I’d be seeing you again, but I’m glad we ran into one another. Must be fate.”

I nod. “Must be.” Then I give her a grin. “I definitely have not been coming here everyday hoping to run into you.”

Her eyebrows raise in surprise. “Well, you’re not very subtle, are you? I never did get your name.”

“Five Hargreeves,” I say, extending my hand.

Since the reset, the Hargreeves name lives on. If you bear the name of my adoptive, world-dominating father, that automatically means you are special. We all have powers and everyone knows it. But the Umbrella Academy as a team has ceased to exist, even in people’s memories. So, she doesn’t know who I am and it just sounds like I have a number as a name for no reason. Some of my siblings have changed their names to try and start over with a clean slate; hiding their powers from the rest of the public. Not me. I’m too old and set in my ways. Besides…I could have picked a different name a long time ago and chose not to. No use in doing it now.

“Hargreeves? So, you’re one of them?”

She takes my hand in hers to shake it, leaving it linger just a little too long. Her question isn’t accusatory or judgmental in any way. She only sounds curious.

“I am,” I answer, but I don’t follow it up with any detail.

“So what can you do?”

Her question is obviously about my powers, but I’d rather keep our little game going.

“Many, many impressive things.”

She gives me a half smile and nods her approval. “Five huh? Interesting. Well, my name is not actually Mrs. Robinson, as I’m sure you figured out. It’s –”

I interrupt her. “I know who you are.”

“Oh really? Am I that famous around here?”

“Seems that you are. You have quite the reputation.” I pause. “In a good way.”

She smiles coyly again. Then she turns to the glass doors of the freezers that are lined up against the wall. She opens the door and reaches in to grab a bag of vegetables, a white cloud puffing up around her from the cold. When she closes the door again, she turns to face me. I glance down at her chest. The cold air has caused her nipples to harden and are clearly visible through her tight shirt. She sees me notice and lets me stare for a few more seconds before dropping the bag into the basket looped over her arm.

“Since you’re here, would you mind helping me with something?” she asks, brushing her hair over her shoulder.

Her question jolts me out of my little daydream of running my tongue and teeth over those delicious looking peaks and I rub the back of my neck.

“Of course.”

She points back at the freezer. “Can you reach something on the top shelf for me?”

I nod and she opens the door, the blast of cold air hitting us both in the face. We’re standing close to one another now and I can see the fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and around her mouth. It somehow makes her look even sexier.

“What do you need?” I ask. She’s a couple inches shorter than me and I look down at her.

Her eyes don’t move off of mine when she answers. “I need some sausage.”

I almost laugh directly in her face, and I can see she is trying to hold it together, too. But we’re both having too much fun to break now. I glance up to the top shelf and sure enough, there is a box of breakfast sausages. I put my hand on one of them.

“These?”

She shakes her head. “The big one.”

With a giant grin, I grab the bigger box and pull them down. Then I close in on her, until we’re so close her perfect tits are practically rubbing against my chest. I see her take in a sharp breath.

“That’s the one,” she says with a nod. “Just put it in my basket. If it will fit.”

“Don’t worry. I can make it fit,” I say as I smirk and look down at the almost-full shopping basket.

There’s a small opening along the side and I push the box into it, shoving it in to make a snug fit.

“See? Perfect fit,” I assure her as my hand brushes against her bare arm. “You just have to know how to slide it in.”

We stand there a second longer, our bodies so close I am having a hard time not pulling her in and fucking her into the frozen tater tots. The ridiculous innuendos are making us smile, though, and pretty soon we’re both laughing. Her laugh is nice and I like hearing it. It feels good to laugh with someone.

“So, Five…do you still have more shopping to do?”

I look down at my empty hands, then back at her. “Nope. I got what I came for.”

With another thoughtful nod, she sets her basket on the floor. “You know, I just remembered I left my wallet at home, so I guess I won’t be able to pay for these.”

“That’s a shame. You probably shouldn’t be driving without a license, either. Maybe I should take you home.”

She reaches out and slowly pulls my tie out from inside the vest of my suit, running two fingers down the silk edge of it before dropping it again. 

“Well, aren’t you such a nice young man? You must have been a boy scout.”

I shake my head and put my hands back in my pockets, trying not to moan directly in her face from her touch and the way she’s looking at me. “Not exactly.”

She shrugs and turns around, walking away. Apparently, I am supposed to follow her like an obedient little puppy. And I will for right now. I can play this game, too. I’ll let her think I’m some dumb kid that doesn’t know how to work a vagina and will cum all over her hand the first time she touches my dick. But she doesn’t know I’m about to prove her very, very wrong. I exchange looks with Brad the bagger, who is giving me a thumbs up, as I follow her out the doors.

I lead her to my car, and she stops when we reach it, surprised at what she’s seeing.

“Wait, this is your car?”

“Why? You don’t like it?”

She shakes her head. “No, no, it’s great. It’s just I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be a Corvette Stingray guy.”

I walk around to the passenger side and open the door for her. It’s a nice day out and I have the top down. It’s also freshly washed, so the blue paint is shining. I watch her legs and ass as she slips inside onto the leather seat, and I close the door gently. When I cross over to the driver’s side and get in, she looks over at me with a smile and it doesn’t even feel awkward. We know what we’re doing, so there’s no need to try and pretend something else is going on here. 

“Where to?” I ask, turning the key in the ignition. The car roars to life.

Once she gives me directions, I peel out of the parking lot, rounding the corner at top speed and head out onto the main road. I like to drive fast, and when I look over at her, she is laughing; her hair blowing behind her in the wind and the sun shining on her face. Seeing her happy and excited like that makes me feel good. I kick it into fourth and whip around the cars in front of me.

We arrive a few minutes later. She lives in an unassuming house in an unassuming neighborhood. When she unlocks the door and lets me inside, I take a look around. The house is clean, tidy, and tasteful. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Maybe leopard print sofas or a sex swing in the middle of the living room. But, no, this is very much a normal looking home. 

“Please, make yourself at home,” she says, gesturing to the living room we’re standing in before walking into the open kitchen that is right next to it.

I shrug off my suit coat and do away with my tie, laying them across the back of an armchair. I unbutton the top couple buttons of my shirt and roll up my sleeves as I join her in the kitchen.

“Would you like a beer?” she asks, her hand on the refrigerator door.

I can’t stop staring at her, and I’m dying to see that body that I know is fucking gorgeous under those clothes. But, I wait.

“Actually, do you have any scotch?” I ask.

She looks surprised and then she tilts her head. “Yes, I do. I have damn good scotch, in fact.”

“Great.”

She points to a cabinet. “In there. There’s glasses just to the left.”

As I turn to open the cupboard, I say something about how I’m impressed with her choice of booze. I pull the stopper out and fill two glasses halfway.

“Most of my guests don’t appreciate good quality scotch.”

I hand her a glass and take a sip from my own. She’s right; it’s damn good.

“I’m willing to bet I’m not like most of your usual guests.”

She eyes me up over her glass and shakes her head. “No. So far, you’ve been surprising me.” She takes a drink and lowers her glass again. “So, these powers you have. What are they, exactly?”

This is the perfect invitation and my mouth pulls into a smirk. I set my glass down on the counter behind me. With no warning, I blink the few feet that separates us and I reappear almost on top of her, with my body brushing against hers as she audibly gasps.

I place a hand on the side of her neck, my thumb rubbing lightly across her cheek. “That,” I answer, before using my other hand to take her glass and set it down behind her.

I can see and feel her chest starting to rise and fall at a more rapid pace as she stares up at me, her lips slightly parted. I don’t want to wait anymore, so I lean in for a kiss. It’s soft at first, but when I feel her mouth respond to mine, it becomes more heated. Soon, I am pulling her to me with an arm around her waist. My hand is still on her neck, and I chance it by giving her hair a soft tug from behind. I hear her breathe in sharply through her nose and she presses into me further.

When we finally break away from one another, our heads still close together, we are breathing hard and fast. I push my groin against her so she can feel what she’s doing to me. I see a small smile form on her lips.

“Is this what you’ve been wanting from me?” I ask quietly.

She lets out a very soft sigh and closes her eyes before opening them again and pushing back against me.

“Among other things,” she says.

I nod before diving back onto her mouth again, hungry for more. Her hands run down my back and down to my waist, then back up my arms. I love the feeling of her hands on me and it’s getting me even more riled up.

I stop again, leaving her breathless. Without bothering with anymore questions, I rip her shirt open down the front, tearing the buttons apart until it’s fully open and I slide it down her arms, letting it drop to the floor. She doesn’t try to stop me and when I take a few seconds to admire the view of her magnificent tits in the thin black bra she is wearing, she gives me a smile. I run my hands over them and she tilts her head back.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” I tell her. When she looks back at me, I raise one eyebrow. “But I think you already know that. Don’t you, honey?”

She gives me a small laugh. “Honey?”

I put my hands on either side of her waist and pull her in with a sharp tug and suddenly she’s not smiling anymore. But she is clutching at my shirt on my back.

“You know exactly what you’re doing with that amazing body of yours. And you like it when you have to show your little boy toys how to handle it, don’t you?”

She is looking up at me in surprise, her chest flush with mine and my dick grinding into her. She takes a loud breath in and her hands fall to my waist. Her mouth twitches up at the corner and she shakes her head.

“Damn. You figured me out.”

My hands find their way down to the front of her shorts and I start to slowly unbutton and unzip them, all while looking her directly in the eyes. I do not return her smile. I want her to know I mean business.

“That’s not what’s going to happen this time.”

I push her shorts down and they drop to the floor at her feet. Her small, black panties match the bra and I immediately want to tear those off, as well.

“What is going to happen, then?” she asks, still trying to maintain her air of coolness, but I can see I’m getting to her when she swallows hard.

I don’t answer, but I do drop to my knees in front of her and look up at her shocked face. I yank the panties down in one motion and she steps out of them. With one more look back up, I lean in and drag my tongue up her slit; slowly and deliberately, while she lets her eyes close and her head fall back. A soft whimper escapes her throat and her hips push subtly into me. She tastes so good, just like I knew she would, and I give her another long lick.

“We’re going to have some fun,” I tell her, before giving her a soft kiss right onto her sensitive mound. She makes another breathy noise above me, and I take that to mean she likes my plan.

I know she still doesn’t realize everything I am capable of yet, but she will. I have decided, as a personal challenge to myself, that by the time I am through with her she will be begging me for more. I’m going to ruin her so that she won’t even be able to think of anyone else but me. And I’m not going to stop until this wild cat is a domesticated house kitty, purring in my lap. The thought makes me grin salaciously before my mouth is back on her.

I don’t bother starting out slow. I’m eating her out, sucking at her clit and flicking my tongue over and into every crevice, all while gripping her thighs so tightly my fingers are digging into her skin. She moans out loud, and I push her roughly backward until she is clutching at the edge of the counter and her ass is up against it. I pull my face off of her just long enough for me to take a hand and slap the inside of one of her thighs. She looks down at me, startled.

“Spread them for me,” I demand.

She follows my instructions, widening her stance, and I go back in for more. I could eat this pussy all day, and I shove my tongue inside of her. Her slick is pouring out of her the more I work her over; coating my mouth in her delicious taste. The loud breathing and even louder moans I hear are turning me on and my cock is straining inside my pants.

“Fff…oh my g-ahhh…yes yes…ff-iii…”

I let out a tiny laugh because the sounds and words she’s saying make no sense. I can’t tell if she wants to say my name or curse, but either way I know I’m doing something right. I’ve got her brain all scrambled, which is what I was aiming for.

I keep going, fucking her with my hungry mouth while she gets more and more worked up. Her whines are becoming higher in pitch and she’s desperately trying to grind against my face. When I feel her hand on my head, her fingers laced in my hair, I know I’ve got her. She tries to push my face harder into herself.

“Five…keep going…more…” she stutters out, and I know she’s teetering on the edge.

Instead of letting her come all over my face, I immediately back off. She tries to pull me back in, but I don’t let her. I look up at her as I catch my breath, my mouth wet from her dripping pussy, and I love how fucking desperate and sad she looks right now.

“What…fuck…I was right there,” she pants, as if she thinks I made some mistake and I didn’t realize she was about to finish.

I shake my head slowly, like the smug asshole I am, and rise up until I’m looking down on her again. Her chest is heaving and she’s looking at me like she can’t quite believe what is happening.

“I know, sweetheart. That wasn’t fair, was it?” I ask condescendingly before giving her a kiss on her cheek.

She stares at me in disbelief for a second before one side of her mouth quirks up. “You were right. This is not how I thought this was going to go.”

I stroke her cheek and brush a piece of hair off her forehead. My movements are slow and gentle, and I’m taking my time. 

“But do you like it?” I ask quietly, before guiding her face to look at me with a hand on her chin.

She swallows nervously again, but that tiny smile is still there and there’s a hungry spark in her eyes. She nods.

“Yeah. I think I do.”

When she pulls me by my belt loops, hard so that my groin slams into her, I chuckle. “The more you want it, the more I’m going to make you wait.”

Her eyebrows draw together with frustration. It’s the first time she’s looked significantly younger than her age, and she almost appears to be on the verge of a temper tantrum. I can tell she’s used to getting her way all the time. I like teasing her, but I also don’t want to be that much of a jerk. Plus, holding out is killing me, too.

“How about this, I’ll give you a choice. I can either fuck you here, on the kitchen countertop; or we can go to the bedroom. Whichever you want.”

She makes a little gutteral noise in her throat and her eyes flutter close for half a second. She tries to push against me again, but I don’t let her.

“Bedroom,” she whispers.

I nod, pleased with her choice. There will be a bigger work area for me there. She takes me by the hand, leading me down a hallway. I know she’s a little embarrassed, because she’s completely undressed except for her bra, and I still have all of my clothes on. It further drives home the point that I’ve taken the reins here.

Once we’re in the bedroom, she tries to pounce on me again, but I gently push her back onto the bed. She doesn’t say anything, just looks up at me with those beautiful brown eyes and waits. I think she’s starting to understand the game now. As she watches, I strip off my shirt and pants. Then I climb over the top of her in nothing but my boxers. She immediately lies down on her back beneath me.

I begin kissing her again; hot, open-mouth kisses that have her shoving her tongue inside my mouth and pulling me down on top of her. I reach around to unhook her bra and throw that off to the side somewhere. Now she’s completely naked and I just have to take a minute to admire the view.

I raise up on my forearms, pulling away from her mouth, and look below me. Fuck. I’m not sure how it’s possible that I ended up with this absolute work of art that is dying for my dick inside of her right now, but here we are. It’s a goddamn miracle, is what it is. 

“Do you know how stunningly beautiful you are?” I ask sincerely, still not taking my eyes off her luscious curves.

This seems to make her a little flustered and I even see her blush a little. It has me thinking that maybe these dumbass toddlers that she’s been bringing back here haven’t exactly been as appreciative as I am. They apparently didn’t realize that they should have been worshiping her, not just fucking her and leaving. What a tragedy.

She laughs quietly. “Ok.”

“I’m not kidding,” I tell her, looking her in the eyes again. “You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met in my life.”

When I say that, our eyes locked on one another, I can feel something click between us. A connection is made. I can see that she believes me and I’ve made her feel good about herself. But there’s something else there, too. Something I don’t know how to describe. But I like it.

“Thank you,” she whispers with a smile.

She reaches up to push my hair back off my face, and then she is pulling me down again with a hand on the back of my neck. I let her take the lead for just a second because it feels so good. My body is covering hers as we trade more deep kisses back and forth, and I position myself so that my hard cock is pressing between her legs. She moans into my mouth and opens her legs wider for me. 

I keep at it, rubbing up against her; the cotton fabric of my boxers creating a shield of friction between us, but she is still getting off on it. It obviously feels amazing to me, too, and I am honestly thinking of foregoing this whole orgasm denial thing I’ve got going on and just fucking her as hard as possible right now. But I don’t. I continue to rut into her as she presses harder and harder against me, jerking her hips up and digging her nails into my bare shoulders.

“Oh my god,” she whines next to my ear. “Please…”

I smile to myself, my face hidden in the crook of her neck. I give her a sharp bite that makes her squeak. 

“I love that you’re so needy,” I tell her, moving to the other side of her neck and sucking a bruise onto it. “I bet you never begged for someone’s cock before, have you?”

She doesn’t answer, probably because she’s either too focused on humping me or she’s embarrassed that I called her out. Either way, it’s a win for me. She keeps grinding against me, her actions becoming faster and more desperate. I can feel her hot, wet pussy with each pass over my dick, and oh fuck, it makes me want to lose my mind. I can’t even really believe I’m holding out this long, but I’ve made it this far I guess. Let’s keep this going.

As soon as she is completely lost in her own little world, eyes closed and hands clutching at my arms and back, I can see she’s so close to coming again. She’s making small grunting noises and whimpers as she rams her swollen clit against me. 

“Oh shit…oh shit…” she starts chanting and her grip on my skin tightens.

The grin on my face is extremely cruel as I suddenly move off her, sitting on my knees in between her legs. Her hips move up, only to meet nothing but air and her eyes fly open.

“What the fuck!”

Her eyes are wide and she’s breathing like a freight train. Her hips keep twitching just slightly, like they haven’t quite caught up to the rest of her body yet. She looks pretty pissed off and it’s adorable.

“Did you think I was going to let you get off just from grinding on my dick like that?” I shake my head, pitying her. “Honey…I thought you figured this out.”

“You are a bastard,” she fumes, her jaw clenched tight.

“It’s really hard to take you seriously when you’re wearing nothing but the marks I just gave you. You’re still so soaking wet for me I can see the evidence in a pool on the sheets.”

She’s quiet again and a soft blush blooms across her chest. I know it is killing her to be this vulnerable right now, so I decide to throw her a bone. Still resting on my knees, I pull my boxers down over my cock, letting her have a good look before maneuvering them the rest of the way off. I stay where I am and make her watch.

Taking my rock hard dick in my hand, I give it a few slow strokes while maintaining eye contact with her. She has propped herself up on her elbows and she’s practically drooling over what she’s seeing. I might not be porn star-level big, but in the scheme of things, it’s mildly impressive. At least, she seems to think so.

“Damn,” she rasps out before looking me in the eyes again. She is dead serious when she tells me, “I want you to fuck me with that.”

I laugh because I just can’t help it and even she smiles at that. I reach down and take one of her hands, pulling her up towards me so that she is sitting up.

“Come here,” I say gently, although my face is back to being serious. She shuffles forward a little and I grab her around the waist, positioning her so that she is straddling my lap while I stay kneeling.

The position makes my cock rub against her slit again, and she’s already trying to roll her hips into me. I let her do that a few times, mostly because it feels so goddamn good, but then I hold her still with my hands on either side of her waist.

“I know how badly you want this. And I’m going to give it to you, don’t worry. But you’re going to have to be a little more patient, ok sweet girl?”

My tone is patronizing and she doesn’t like it. But after a few seconds she gives me a small nod. I go back to kissing her, because I seem to not be able to get enough of her lips against mine, and I tangle my fingers in her hair. She groans when I give it a sharp tug.

Without pulling away, I move my hands back down to her hips and start to guide her. Very slowly, I move her body over mine, so that her dripping wet slit is sliding back and forth over my dick. I let out a long, low moan and tighten my grip on her. 

“Please,” she’s whimpering against my mouth again.

“Please what, sweetheart?” I tease, moving my lips to her neck and her shoulder while still keeping control of her pace on top of me.

“Please fuck me.”

It’s so pathetic the way she’s whining that I want to laugh. But I’m also pretty damn close to begging too, and I have to keep trying to focus on not letting myself slip inside of her just yet.

I shake my head, denying her request, but I do pick up the pace a little. I start moving her faster, until she’s grinding hard onto my shaft and I can see she’s just about ready to come again. 

“How do you feel, sweetheart? Is that good?” I ask softly near her ear.

She nods, her eyes still closed. “God, yes…so fucking good. I’m almost there…please.”

“I know you are,” I tell her.

She starts whining and moaning louder and grinding into me harder and she thinks I’m going to let her finally give in to her orgasm, but just as I see her start to tip over that edge, I use my strength to throw her off of me so that she is on her back again.

“Fiive…”

She draws my name out in a long, demoralized cry that is so sad and so pitiful, with her eyes that are pleading for me and her mouth open while she gasps for breath. Oh fuck…I need her.

This time I don’t tease or prolong anything. I’m hard as a rock and dripping with pre-cum and I need to be inside of her now. But there’s one last thing I’m going to make her do for me.

I grab onto her again, and instead of throwing her around, I use my handy spatial manipulation powers and blink us both into the position I want. This is always a risky move that could end with someone accidentally sailing onto the floor or my genitals being smashed into a pancake, but luckily I get it right. I land on my back and she is on top of me. She lets out a short shriek of surprise, but when she realizes what happened she smiles down at me.

“Ride me,” I tell her, not even bothering with an explanation of how or why I flung her through the vacuum of space. “Now,” I emphasize through gritted teeth, in case she was not getting the point.

She gets it, though, because it only takes her a couple of seconds before she is sinking down onto my cock until I’m fully buried in her tight sleeve, and holy shit, it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life.

We both let out a loud moan from how amazing it feels after all of the anticipation. She leans back, grabbing my legs behind her for leverage, and she starts to rock her hips forcefully on top of me. I reach up to squeeze and mold each breast in my hands, watching as her beautiful mouth drops open and her head falls back.

Her movements are driving me crazy, but I still want more. I lower my hands so I can clutch at her hips again, but not before I slap her on the ass with a loud smack. That got her attention and her head snaps up again, eyes wide.

“Look at me,” I demand.

She does and I hold her gaze while I pump her body faster and harder on top of me. I’m pushing my own hips up against her, trying to feel as much of her as humanly possible, but I swear it’s still not enough.

“Fuck me harder. Come on, harder,” I tell her, and I vaguely wonder if I sound as pathetic as she did earlier. I don’t care. I’ll beg on my knees if I can get more of what I’m feeling right now.

She bites at her lower lip in concentration and nods at my request, speeding up her forceful thrusts until she’s almost all the way off of my dick before slamming back down again. Her tits are bouncing so perfectly and her face is flushed. I really don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to last when I look at her like that.

I’m starting to sweat now with how hard I’m working at trying to drill into her, and all the while I’m feeling that warm, amazing feeling in my lower abdomen that means I’m about to lose it. I see by her face and hear from her high-pitched mewls that she is close, too. I’ve got to dial it up a notch, so I move one hand off her hip and start vigorously rubbing her clit with my thumb.

That does it, and she starts thrashing erratically, head tilted back, while she wails like she’s in pain. I know she’s not though, because after another second her pussy is fluttering tightly around my cock and she’s screaming so loud I would be shocked if it weren’t for the fact that I’m also coming fast and hard.

“Fuuuckk,” I yell out, joining her shaking and shuddering body with my own spasms as I push her down as hard as I can manage while unleashing my cum inside of her.

It takes several minutes of loud panting and aftershocks, while she lays on top of my chest and I stroke her back. I’ve never experienced anything that intense before, but I really hope I get to again sometime soon. I finally start to slip out of her and she rolls off of me to lie next to me. 

I don’t know what it is, but there’s some weird connection between us, and I know she can feel it too. It doesn’t matter that I teased her mercilessly and stripped her of all of her control. I smile over at her and lean in for a kiss while trying to smooth her tangled hair down. 

“I wasn’t expecting this,” she says with a small laugh, and I know she’s talking about picking up a supposedly naive kid and having them rock her world, but it has another meaning too. She wasn’t expecting to feel like this. And neither was I.

I shake my head with a smile and trace her lips with my fingers. “Me either. But I think I could get used to it.”

“Me, too.” She pauses and looks a little nervous. “Normally I wouldn’t ask this, but…do you want to stay for a while?”

I don’t even pretend to think about it or try to play cool. “Yes, I’d love that.” When she smiles, she looks so relieved and happy, and I go in for another kiss. “Go get cleaned up and I’ll go grab our drinks. But I want you right back here in bed for me, ok?”

I was sort of teasing, but she smiles her gorgeous smile and nods her head. “Ok.”

Once we’re back in bed, with me propped against the headboard and her leaning against my chest, we gradually sip our scotch and I run my fingers through her hair.

“So, I have to ask. You don’t seem in any way like any other man your age. Why is that? How are you so different?”

I pause for a second while I decide if I want to get into all of that. But then I think, why the hell not? I like this woman and if she wants to know about me, I might as well start with the big truth.

“Well, get comfortable, because this may take a while.”

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

It’s a month later and I’m back at the same grocery store. I only needed a few things and I wait in line until it’s my turn to check out. As I watch my items get scanned over the red laser, Brad the bagger steps up to help out. He recognizes me and gives me a big grin.

“Good to see you, it’s been a while.” He takes a look around. “I haven’t seen her here in a while, not sure why. But, hey, did you ever seal the deal before? Me and some of the guys in back have a bet going.”

“Is that right?” I say with a sly grin. “Which way did you bet?”

Brad looks shocked like it could be any other answer. “That you did, of course! I saw the way she was looking at you; like the cougar caught her meal for the night.”

He laughs at his joke and I smile a little, just as my girl comes jogging up behind me to put a jar of olives on the belt before my order is finished.

“Here you go, honey, sorry it took me forever to find it,” she pants, slightly out of breath. “Are those the right ones?”

I smile down at her and nod. “Yes, darling, thank you.”

As she squeezes past me, pleased with my praise, I give her a small smack on the ass. She turns around and rolls her eyes at me before flashing me one of her pretty smiles that makes me want to melt onto the linoleum floor beneath my feet.

“I’m going to wait in the car,” she tells me, before giving Brad a little wave on her way past.

I swear, it looks like every bagger and stock boy in the whole damn store has now gathered nearby and are staring in awe at the scene they just witnessed. I pretend I don’t notice, but I can’t help feeling proud of myself and it’s hard to keep the smile off my face. As I am paying and taking my bag from Brad, I hear someone in the crowd whisper a little too loudly.

“Did you see that? How the fuck did that dude tame the cougar?”

I definitely can’t keep the smug look off my face now and I nod at the group of jackass kids on my way out the door. “Gentleman.”

Then I head on out to my Stingray, where my dream girl is waiting patiently for me.

[steddieas-shegoes]

homework

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'let's talk about that'

rated t | 990 words | no cw | tags: therapy, gareth pov, personal growth, self-discovery

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Gareth hates therapy.

Okay, hate might be a strong word.

He dislikes it strongly and wishes he could just write in a journal or something.

“Let’s talk about that some more,” the therapist, Jessica, smiled encouragingly.

“Talk about what?” He genuinely has no clue what she wants to hear more about.

“Your need for validation from your bandmates.”

Oh. That.

He wouldn’t really call it a need. He just doesn’t ever do anything that they’d dislike him doing. Even if it would make him happy.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You mentioned that sometimes you have ideas for songs, but you know one of them won’t like it, so you don’t suggest it. Why don’t you give it a try even if they don’t like it?” She clarified.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Because Jeff and Eddie basically run the band. They come up with most of the shit we do, I just add the drums,” he explained. “It’s worked that way this long, why disrupt the flow?”

“Do they tell you not to give your opinion?”

“Of course not. They always ask what I think.”

“And you choose to not give them honesty.”

“I…”

He didn’t realize that’s what was happening. And he hates that it took a therapist to figure it out.

“I’m not lying to them!” He rushed to say.

“Maybe not. But you’re not being completely truthful, either. Do you think they’d be upset if they knew that you were holding back to maintain the peace?”

Gareth hates therapy.

If Steve hadn’t insisted they all go twice a month, he wouldn’t even be here. If Sam hadn’t backed Steve up, a knowing smirk on his face when Gareth and Frankie argued they didn’t need therapy, he would be sitting on his couch or behind his drums.

“I guess there’s a chance they would be a little upset,” he finally admitted. “But not nearly as upset as if I disagreed with them and we argued.”

“How do you know a disagreement would lead to an argument?”

“Because all disagreements lead to arguments. Arguments lead to fights and silence and cold shoulders. Cold shoulders lead to people not wanting to be around each other anymore.”

Damn, Jessica was fucking good at her job. He didn’t even mean to say all that.

He didn’t even know he felt all that.

“Is this a pattern you’ve experienced before?” She set her notepad aside, all attention on him.

“I guess, yeah. My parents. My older brother and my dad. My grandparents and my mom. My first best friend.” He shrugged. “Just easier to go along with things. It’s not like I’m not happy.”

“Settling and being happy are two different things.”

“I am happy. Really.”

He is. He’s never been happier, actually. He gets to do the coolest job in the world with his best friends, he has a boyfriend he loves more than anything, and he gets to drink his favorite coffee every morning. Life is great.

“Do you think that happiness stems from the peace you’ve forced yourself to accept or from being content in your life?” Jessica leaned forward.

“Do you do this with everyone? Is this magic?” He asked, suddenly having the overwhelming urge to cry or run or both.

She laughed. “No, it’s not magic. It’s just understanding my people. You don’t give me much to work with, but sometimes something sticks out and I can run with it.”

“Seems like magic.” He sighs. There’s no way out of this conversation. “What am I supposed to do? Cause problems until no one wants me in the band anymore?”

“No. Do you want actual advice or do you wanna try to figure it out yourself?” She leaned back in her chair. “I’m pretty sure you won’t like my advice.”

“I don’t like most of what you say.”

“Fair enough.” She smiles. “I think you should try being honest next time there’s something you have a different opinion on. No one is going to hate you or want you out of the band. They value your opinion or they wouldn’t have you there to begin with.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Not necessarily. It’s only as hard as you make it.” She makes a note in the planner next to her. “I’m expecting you to give me at least one example of doing this by our next session.”

“Homework? I’m busy enough!” Gareth didn’t want this to get in the way of tour prep. They were starting rehearsals next week and had a few last minute adjustments to make on their album before the tour started.

“And it’s the perfect time to speak up,” she raised a brow, daring him to continue arguing. When he didn’t, she spoke again. “I’m not expecting you to do it all overnight. Just once.”

“Fine.”

****

The first rehearsal was a shit show. It always is, but everyone’s nerves were shot today after barely sleeping and a flight delay keeping two of the tech managers unavailable for an extra few hours.

Frankie snapped on him earlier, but he walked away. That wasn’t the time to follow Jessica’s advice.

Eddie stormed from the room a few minutes ago, said he needed a break to call Steve. He’d been arguing with his guitar tech over which of his five guitars to use for a song.

Gareth started to speak up to give his opinion, but Eddie was already too frustrated.

See, Jessica? This is why you should stay quiet.

But Eddie came back a few minutes later and asked Gareth what he thought.

“The one you use for Blue Night is probably what you should use for Invade. Sounds are similar enough for those songs,” he said without thinking.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Eddie agreed, knocking his shoulder against Gareth’s. “Thanks, man.”

“Dunno why he listens to you and not me,” the guitar tech grumbled.

Gareth smiled.

Okay, Jessica. Maybe you were right this time.