#i need to get better at mirror selfies wow

[why-is-it-always-autumn]

Well, a small child said I looked beautiful and the person at the watch repair shop complimented me on my necklace, so I had a nice day

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: NSFW, dubcon, bathroom sex, bullying, overall just really filthy smut, virgin insert, virginity loss, somewhat dom reader, somewhat bully reader, somewhat yandere reader

♡ FEM reader

You look like one of those girls that never smiles. Like, if he were to take that empty seat next to you in the lecture hall, you’d scowl with stink eyes and then proceed to fully ignore him. Yeah, a real bitch. That's what you look like—scary. He bets all your socials are filled with the same picture—the same deadpanned pouty face over and over, every single one with hundreds of likes and comments saying “Wow, babe!” followed by a dozen emojis from besties and horny admirers. Selfies in the mirror, showing off skin in your tight tops and short skirts—similar to the outfit you’re wearing now. Captions saying, “You can look, but you could never touch.” Yeah, he bets you’re a real attention whore. And the worst part is that you’re not even overselling, either. You’re gorgeous—even with that sour look on your face, he’d pay cold, hard-earned cash in exchange for a pair of your worn panties.

Yeah, there’s no way he’d dare sit next to you. He’s already sweating bullets just thinking about it. Even though you’re one in a million similar girls who wouldn’t give him the time of day, he's still one in a million loser incels who would do anything for it. And that’s the cold reality.

Even if he’d like to get just a whiff of your sweet perfume, he can’t. The status quo forbids it. He’s afraid the jocks will smell fresh blood in the water the moment he does, then swarm him in a matter of seconds, circling before tearing him to shreds. They’d beat him to a pulp in the bathroom, smash his head in over the sink—piss in the toilet, then flush it down with his bloodied face—and he’d have to walk reeking of it all the way home.

So, no—he really can’t sit next to you. 

But no other seats are available, and the lecture is starting soon… 

Why did absolutely everyone decide to show up today?

Oh fuck it, this isn’t high school. College bullies surely don’t bother with petty cases like this, right? They’re all about their frat initiations and rivalries to have enough spare time to beat him up over improper seating. Oh, but what if you’re one of their girlfriends—you’ll tell on him, and then he’ll definitely be beaten up, maybe even killed.

No. He’s overthinking—like always. No one is that mean. If you don’t like him sitting there, you’ll just tell him. And he’ll move. No harm done. Right? He’s not sitting in the stairwell when there’s a perfectly good and empty seat right there, right? Is he?

Yes. Yes, he is. 

“Hey, if you’re looking for a seat, this one’s empty,” a sweet voice calls out over his inner monologue, making him clutch the strap of his bookbag tighter with a flinch of his entire rigid body—his eyes peeled as he looked around to try and find the source of the sound even though he knew where it had come from. It’s as if the possibility of your voice sounding like anything aside from a she-demon was out of the question. But no, it is you. 

But there’s no way you’re talking to him, so he looks around again—there must be someone else in need of the seat aside from him. But then, why are you looking right at him? Are you pulling some type of prank? Are you really that cruel? You’re probably filming him or something—live-streaming—the chat’s blaring with ew, what a creep and omg, uggo alert right about now. He should just go home before the jocks, along with the rest of the internet, can get him.

“Are you okay?” you ask—but no, he must be hearing you wrong—there’s just no way, even though you’re looking right at him. “I think it’s starting soon—you should probably sit.”

It’s as if his fight or flight response is broken because he does the exact opposite of either—as if on autopilot, sitting down in a rush against his better judgment.

The lecture starts shortly, solidifying his choice, but he can’t pay attention. No, he needs to keep his guard up. Any second now, someone’s going to do a drive-by and throw a milkshake at him or something vile of the like, and you’ll have filmed it all even though he can’t spot you holding a phone—and then the entire hall would burst into laughter at his expense.

“Pst—” A soft whisper comes from next to him, from between the gloss of your pretty lips. You smell like candy and fruit, and it makes his gut tighten—both from anxiety and something more shameful. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have a pen I could borrow? Mine’s all out’a ink.”

You give him an awkward smile, and he very nearly runs away. But no, he’s glued to the seat—with nervously wrecked hands shaking as he bends for his bag and unzips it, reaching for his pencil case painfully slow as if disarming some type of bomb. Redoing the same when he opens the case and rummages for a viable pen he could offer.

When he hands it to you, he’s almost sure you plan to stab him with it. But you do no such thing.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver!” You cheer instead, beaming with a much brighter smile than before. “I owe you!”

His ears ring with your praise. Blushing beat red as he rips away from your gaze—still unable to focus on what the professor is preaching—not when from out of the corner of his eye, he can see you sucking on his pen like a lollypop—or something else not so innocent.

Oh, he’d been so wrong.

So, so, so very wrong.

You do smile. You smile a lot, actually. You just have one of those faces that rests bitchy. But still, bubbly airhead or not, a girl like you still shouldn't be seen with a loser like him. It’s social suicide. And still, you’re on your knees before him in a dirty little bathroom stall—the same dirty bathroom stall he feared getting a swirlie, scraping the walls with his nails to try and thwart his assailants—only, now clutching the walls for a much different reason, holding on for his mortal soul as you seek to suck it out of his fat throbbing cock.

You want to repay him—you’d said—for the pencil. He hadn't understood why you’d winked at him before you’d all but dragged him off and flung him inside the men’s bathroom, having his very life flash before his eyes.

You both make the sloppiest sounds as you make an utter mess on and of him, making him cry on all fronts—cock weeping with thick pearly beads of pre while his eyes well up with tears down his flushed face, all sweaty with panic and bliss. 

The moans springing from his chest are virginal and raw and sweet music to your ears, panting for you like a puppy—you’re sure they can hear him out in the hallway when passing by. One of his hands clasps itself on top of his mouth, holding tightly to keep it all within—eyes shut and brows cinched. And yet, he makes no effort to shove you off—hips left jerking and jittering in response to your refined technique where you take him deeply, all the way down to the base, hallowing your cheeks, throttling him with your throat as your tongue wipes his creamy slit clean.

It’s painfully clear he’s never experienced anything like it, but that’s what turns you on the most. Sick as you are, you could suck him dry and savor every drop of him, knowing you’re the first ever to get a taste. But no, by now, your pussy’s so soaked you feel yourself dripping past the soggy lace of your panties, running down your soft thighs in waste.

He’s misty-eyed when you pull off with an ever-cruel pop—a sick mix of relief and sorrow warping his chest, feeling conflicted by the pulse making him think he’s on the verge of a heart attack if you continue—and another strumming his cock, making him think he’s going to keel over and die if you leave him unfinished.

Even so, he’s in a state of complete shell shock as you mount him on top of the toilet seat he’s melting against. Chest heaving, watching you as you lift your skirt up and peal your slick underwear to the side for him to lay his bleary swiveled eyes on your bared and dripping pussy.

“I love nice guys like you—” you moan, pouring the honeyed words down his throat as you ghost his parted lips with your spit-slicked ones, straddling his lap and shimmying ever closer until your tits squish against his chest. “They make me so wet, I lose all self-control.” 

He gulps in your shadow, looking up at you for mercy—cock twitching painfully between your thighs as your wrap your hand around his base real snug, giving him a nice tug as you line him up with your needy heat—making him all but squeal beneath you.

Your other hand makes its way into his hair, braiding your fingers within the locks to hold him steady—gently pulling his head back while leering down at him like caught prey. Playing with him just so, teasing him with your words, all in your sultry voice, making his head spin hot with a fever, “You’ll be a good boy and fuck me, won’t you? Pretty please?”

His breaths are heavy and wet, coming out shaky with his instant answer, “Y-yes—” all weak in a pathetic whimper that almost has you cum too soon.

“You’re so nice~ thank you,” you croon against his lips, kissing him sloppily with your tongue in his mouth as you shift your hips and start lowering your sopping cunt down upon his seeking length, taking him in with greedy ease, eagerly gripping his soft cockhead like a toy in a claw machine.

“Fhu—fuck—” he stutters under his breath, whinging before planting his teeth into his lip to keep it at bay—feeling like putty beneath you, sweaty and heavy and dumb, eagerly wanting all which you sought to give him—only more flushed at your mean undertones as you play with him like food on a silver platter.

You sling your arms around his neck and push your chest harder against him, moaning all too brazenly, “Oh! Fuck yes—that’s so good,” you sing while slowly taking him in further. “A nice guy with a big bad bully’s dick is the best!” 

He whines in return as his inches get eaten—each devoured one by one until his tip kneads into the mouth of your womb.

Sighing happily, you kiss his cheek and put your lips right at his ear with another wanton whimper, “You fill me up so so good.” Roosting on the size, thighs resting flush against his, feeling all giddy as it stretches you out oh-so-nicely. “Such a good toy-cock for me,” keening at the way it twitches inside you, pulsing in response to your tight walls, clenching it in ways it’s never before felt.

His eyes are already rolling back into his skull once you start lolling your hips—riding him, but keeping him deep at all times—lifting just enough for it to pull out only a little before sinking back down, making it settle into that perfect needy little spot inside you that makes your whole body shiver in delight.

“Mmh,” You suck his ear lobe, releasing it with a soft bite, before smiling down at him and his sweat-pilled expression. Cooing at him, “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

He can’t even answer with words anymore, only giving a dumb mewl as he nods his head. But, of course, you’re already well aware.

“Mmh—” your eyes gleam with delight, giving his lap a mean ride, leaving him all but breathless, before asking, “D’you like it, virgin boy? ‘You like my pussy? Like the way it milks your chubby cock for your cum?”

He nods again, even more eagerly this time—looking downright pathetic in every sense of the word.

“Do you want to?” you offer to his desperation, feeling as though he’s falling apart at your fingertips, needing you to hold him together. “I’ll let you since you’re such a sweet guy—” you tease while clenching his cock, making it impossible to want anything else no matter the consequence. “In exchange for a favor, of course.”

He couldn’t care less what the favor was—way beyond willing to pay any price you ask of him as he finally makes a move and grabs your hips with a strength you hadn’t thought he had the balls to perform, planting you down firmly and holding you with such need as his hips jitter and stutter—resting his cheek on your shoulder in drool and tears with a lovesick groan leaving him as he fills your pussy up with his creamy spend.

His whole body shakes—spasming in cute little aftershocks as he clutches onto your body, hugging you tightly.

You respond in kind, cuddling him and kissing the top of his head. “That was so warm and filling—what a good boy—you did so well,” you murmur ever-sweetly while petting his head, combing through his sweaty locks with your long glitter-pink nails—keeping your voice saccharine. “Did you enjoy yourself, hm? Your first time cumming in pussy instead of your dirty ol’ sock?”

You pick his face up—cupping his sloppy jaw in both palms—his eyes half-mast and glazed as you nose-kiss him with a smile on your face.

“You loved it, didn’t you? Silly virgin boy…”

Your cunt tingles at the sight of him—wrecked beauty, sweaty and undone. You feel his cock unswell inside you and decide to lift off and release him—letting it flop out and splat on his tummy in a puddle of slick.

“Look,” you fuss, holding his face in direction of it. “You made such a pretty mess—isn’t it lovely?”

Your pussy is left glistening and puffy, still wanting and waiting for its final hurrah. Your breath turns headier and so does your voice, now with a new darkness to it as  you whisper, “Time for that favor, sweet boy.” 

He blinks dumbly, impossibly hopeless, wrapped so tightly around your pinky it’s pitiful. Of course, you take advantage—guiding his head to level with your cunt. 

“Open wide, tongue out flat.”

He obeys wordlessly. And oh god it makes your gut stir viscously—watching his tongue loll free between parted lips.

Your voice flares with bliss at the sight, shy of unhinged, as you giggle breathily, “That’s right—taste the pretty mess you made.”

He’s pushed face-first, trapped between your thighs with his jaw like an open cup beneath you, tonguing the mixed slick from your slit and slurping it all up without shame.

And fuck—it feels so good, you lose even more of your mind while tugging him even closer—all but pulling him off the toilet seat, making him kneel down on the floor instead. And still, he makes no effort to escape, but the opposite—seeking to go deeper into your cunt, crying into you as he laps up every last drop of yours and his arousal—making your thighs quake around him, grinding down against his mouth, onto his eager tongue, having it pet your clit over and over until you also come to the same sudden stumbling halt.

“Yes—yes! Oh, fuck! I’m gonna—it’s coming—”

And there it goes, ripping along your loins, surging from your lower belly. With both your hands tangled harshly in his hair, he’s not going anywhere, lips locked with yours as it starts pouring.

You’re squirting on him—hot and hard—on his tongue, inside his mouth, down his throat, in his belly. You’re squirting on him and he’s drinking it, he realizes—but even so, he isn’t able to stop. Instead, he unwinds his jaw even wider, digs his tongue deeper, and accepts every drop of the warm stream as it drenches his face and splashes down his collar and shoulders, utterly soaking his shirt, making in see-through as it clings to his chest like a second skin.

You’ve closed your eyes and thrown your head back, basking in every last little twitch of your body as you relieve yourself all over his face.

Finally, after a moment, you let go of his hair and step back—feeling refreshed and happy with your work—seeing the poor loser sit before the toilet, all drenched and exhausted with his limp cock spent and messy, looking like a beautiful wreck.

You smile, pulling your panties back in place, and you skirt down again before unlocking the stall and opening the door, only looking back at him for a moment, tapping your nail at a few matching pink scribbles written on the wall. “Here’s my number and address if you wanna have more fun." And then you leave, just like that. "Bye-bye~”

♡ BNHA – Amajiki, Deku, Shigaraki, Shinso ♡ JJK – Yuuta, Choso, Nanami ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Kenma ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ BLLK – Isagi ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Sakura, Nirei

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[museenkuss]

“How I transformed my body in 90 days” type video but I’m becoming a Renaissance Woman. Vlog footage of me reading the classics for hours on end, writing vocabulary lists, drawing in my sketch book to epic music. On day 15 I talk about how I’m slowly adjusting to my elaborate home cooked meals and how I struggle with the genealogy of the Borgias. There are montages of me educating myself on history, astrology, astronomy and dressing well, I take horseback riding lessons and go to museums. Erasmus, Machiavelli and Lucretius are stacked on my bedside table.

There’s a segment where I say “it’s day 53 and I’m really struggling… I can’t even write a sonnet. I don’t see any improvement in myself. Is this even worth it?!” The stakes are rising. I’m shown ripping up pages of rhymes in calligraphy. I swear as I rush around the kitchen, trying to prepare my oysters. I sit at my desk and sigh, head in hands, my desk covered in stacks of notes, huge volumes on art history and printed out articles. The dramatic moment comes when I for the nth time try to walk and gesture with sprezzatura while balancing books on my head for better posture. I fall. The books topple to the floor. I’ve reached rock bottom.

Black screen. Voice over: “It was really hard. I felt like Dante, in the dark forest, having lost my way. And then, I realised what I needed: I had to go on a grand tour.”

Music swells again, there’s a montage of me packing and travelling in busses and trains. Landscape rushes past. I read Goethe’s Italienische Reise on the journey. Finally, there are snippets of me in Munich, in Vienna. I take a selfie in front of Parmigianino’s self portrait in a convex mirror, showing off my own elegantly contorted hand. I’m in Florence, breathing heavily with excitement as I walk along the outside walls of the Galleria degli Uffizi. “Oh my god, there he is—“ I film the Petrarch statue, the phone visibly shaking. “I can’t believe I get to meet him…” I whisper with awe. Cut. I’m blowing a kiss at the right Grace in Botticelli’s Spring (I have a crush on her). I’m in the Loggia di Psiche in Rome, I’m kneeling on a bridge in Venice to touch it, “Tintoretto walked on these very stones..”, I’m filming the ceiling of the Camera Degli Sposi in Mantua. I’m in the streets of Grasse showing off a bottle of Fragonard perfume I bought, I’m teary eyed in front of the Concerto Campestre in the Louvre. Cut.

I’m back home. “It’s now day…79. Those were the most unrealistic two weeks of my life. And the most expensive. But now I’m back on track. I feel like I can really do this.” With newfound vigour I get back to my battered Reclam German/Latin edition of Ovid’s Metamorphosis. Day 81, 85, 89. Emotional/hopeful music. I show a Shakespeare sonnet written in beautiful calligraphy. I’m in the museum sketching the composition of an annunciation and taking notes on a Venus by Cranach. I practice a speech I’ve written following Cicero’s rules on rhetoric. I’m back on horseback. I present a cake of some sort.

DAY 90. I’m at my desk. “Wow, what a journey. Now let’s see the transformation I underwent in those 90 days.” I show side by side footage of me from day 1 and day 90. I look the same, except day 90 me is wearing all black, Castiglione style, and has better posture. Back to the desk. “I changed so much. I learned so much about myself and my limits. I’m still not fluent in Latin or Italian. But what I learned is that beauty is everywhere, especially in the struggle, and it’s worth cherishing. And now, I’m back and stronger and more curious than ever. If you haven’t followed me on tumblr @Museenkuss at this point, what are you doing? Click the follow button and give this post a like because NOW, the fun really begins. A renaissance woman never stops learning.” From under the desk, I grab two books and put them on my desk. The Tale of Genji and Sei Shōnagon’s pillow book. “It’s time to expand my horizon.” Black screen.

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 13 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You take Bradley's credit card with you to shop for honeymoon attire and decide to give him sneak previews along the way. Then, you make another video to ensure he's well entertained on his deployment.

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, and swearing

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

You were enjoying the most leisurely day, strolling around the mall completely solo. You'd sent Bradley off to play golf at seven o'clock with just a peck on the cheek, and then you'd gone back to bed until nine. Now you were sipping an iced coffee and eating a gigantic cinnamon bun, trying to psych yourself up to try on a bunch of lingerie. 

There were some really beautiful things in the window display, and you definitely wanted to run up a large credit card bill for Bradley. But the fluorescent lighting in the fitting rooms always made you cringe. While you told him last night that you'd send him some photos today, you weren't so sure now. The idea of teasing him with some pictures of honeymoon lingerie where all of your imperfections were highlighted had you grimacing. 

"Maybe it won't be so bad," you murmured to yourself as you tossed your trash and headed into the store. 

Thirty minutes later, you had been set up in a fitting room with a plethora of things to try on. You ran your fingers along satin, lace and silk in every color of the rainbow, but especially a little heavy on the red.

"Okay. Showtime." You stripped all of your clothes off and tried not to look in the mirror as you pulled on a stretchy, red lace mini dress. "Holy shit," you muttered, finally looking in the mirror. Everything looked pretty good, even in the bad lighting. Bradley would probably love this one. 

You snapped a few pictures and selected the best one, texting it to him before you could change your mind. You added the caption:

Let's play a game. Rate all of these on a scale of 1 to 10, and I'll buy some of your favorites. 

As soon as you were fastening a black bra, he wrote back.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: holy shit, i almost walked into a sand trap while i was looking at that. 10/10!

You laughed and added the first item to the keeper pile. Then you snapped a few shots of the black bra that you actually loved and could pair with matching crotchless panties. When you sent a photo and asked what he thought about that, you cackled when he responded. 

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: 10/10! for the love of god, i need you to get that set. promise me right now. 

You promised him you'd get it and added it to the keeper pile. When you sent a photo of a white bridal set complete with garters and stockings, he sent back a selfie of himself in the golf cart with his jaw hanging open and his eyes wide. 

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: don't make me beg. i need to be able to take that off you. 11/10.

You were having so much fun with him, but you simply replied by reminding him to reapply sunblock. And then he wrote back begging for more pictures. You tried on one set in both purple and red and asked which one he liked better.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: red. always red. but get the purple too. does it come in other colors? 12/10. you are killing me here. gotta play six more holes with my dick kinda hard.

You decided to take photos of everything else you were trying on, and send them sporadically throughout the rest of the afternoon while he and the guys were out drinking. You took the massive pile of things you and he both liked to the register, along with something special for tonight. 

"Wow, you found a lot today!" said the cashier and you just laughed. 

"It's mostly for my honeymoon."

"Congratulations! I guess you don't plan on leaving the hotel room with your spouse at all?" she asked with a grin.

You pressed your lips together before muttering, "That's the plan."

She snorted and told you about the boutique website where you could order personalized items as well. "Here, I'll give you a free shipping code. Your total is one thousand two hundred and twenty seven dollars."

You handed her Bradley's credit card with a satisfied smirk. If he wanted you to run up his credit card bill with this stuff, you'd add some personalized items when you got home and make it even worse. 

-------------------------

Bradley felt overstimulated and twitchy. You were an absolute menace, sending him photo after photo all day long. You were wearing bras that showed everything. You were wearing sheer dresses that hugged your curves. You were wearing panties that showed off your tattoo. He saved each new image as they arrived, already thinking about using them to jerk off while he was deployed in a few weeks. 

"Why are you so distracted?" Jake asked as Bradley saved a photo of you wearing a red string bikini with the side tied above your tattoo. "Oh, Angel's sending you porn."

Bradley hid his phone screen and glared. "It's not porn," Bradley said, glancing at the photo again. The top was barely covering your nipples. He licked his lips and said, "It's just a bathing suit." 

"That looked like less than a bathing suit," Jake replied, switching out his five iron. 

"Stop looking at it!" Bradley grunted. 

"Stop looking at what?" Payback asked, adjusting his gloves. 

Jake nodded toward Bradley's phone. "His girl sent him dirty photos."

"Lucky," echoed Fanboy, Coyote and Payback in perfect unison.

"They are not dirty photos. She's out shopping," he said, not sure what he was trying to defend here. You were about to become his wife. You loved each other. Nothing was actually inappropriate. "You know what, yeah. She's sending me dirty photos." All the guys put their fists out for a fist bump, except for Bob who was blushing and rummaging around in his golf bag looking for his putter. 

"Come on, Bob," Payback called. "This is fist bump worthy!"

Bob just shook his head. "Don't you guys remember when she yelled at us for being crude? She literally lined us up in their living room and ripped us apart. I'm showing nothing but respect."

"Oh shit, I remember," Coyote said. "It's why we're all jealous of Rooster. She's protective."

Bradley just grinned and passed out some cans of beer for them to all drink during the end of their round of golf.

"Eighteenth hole," he announced, tucking his phone away. "Then bar hopping."

The guys all cheered and headed toward the tee.

And this was precisely why Bradley had always preferred to hang around with Nat. Because even when he was just hooking up with women, back before he met you, he never liked the banter and always tried to keep things like this private. 

Bradley played the last hole terribly as you sent him another photo of you wearing a few scraps of black fabric with garters while he was trying to putt. You were so pretty, bright eyes looking at the camera as if you were really looking at him. He wanted to skip out on the afternoon of drinking, but he knew the guys would never let him live it down. 

So he told you he would be home after they went to the steakhouse for dinner, and you told him not to rush. Apparently you had some online shopping to do.

-------------------------

You were going way overboard now with Bradley's credit card, but you couldn't help yourself. This website had the most adorable satin underwear that you could personalize with anything you wanted. You were up to five pairs in your shopping cart and counting. Your favorite ones were going to be embroidered with Daddy's Baby Girl. You even decided to get a blue thong with Mrs. Bradshaw across the front to go under your wedding dress, even though you weren't sure about changing your name yet. 

You yawned and figured you should probably do something with your day besides shop for expensive underwear. So you took Tramp for a walk to the bay, emailed your wedding photographer, did some meal prepping, and made yourself a grilled cheese sandwich doused in hot sauce for dinner. Then you carefully hand washed some of your new lingerie and set aside the items you were going to wear tonight. 

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: i'll be home soon, baby girl. jake's dropping me off

You quickly got changed into the pastel pink bustier and matching thong and pulled your jeans back on. With a grin, you decided the bustier could pass for a top and just left your outfit at that. Tramp started barking as Jake pulled into the driveway, and a moment later, Jake was following Bradley inside. 

"I told you to reapply sunblock!" you said immediately, taking in both sunburned men. "You guys look like lobsters."

Bradley wrapped his arms around you and started kissing your neck. "It's just a little pink," he insisted, running his fingers along your top and smiling. "You look pretty."

"And you look sweaty and smell like cheap beer."

"You love cheap beer," Bradley insisted, making you laugh.

"How much did you drink?"

He nodded his head and sighed. "Plenty. But I'm fine, Sweetheart."

Jake walked past and messed up your hair on his way to the kitchen. "I'm just getting some water and then I'm leaving," he insisted. "I can tell the Bradshaws need some time alone."

"Never stopped you from hanging around and being annoying before," Bradley told him as he looked down at your chest with interest. "Did you buy this today?" he asked softly. "You must have. I know your inventory by heart."

You nodded. "Do you like it?"

"Mmhmm."

"Feel like making another video?"

"Hell yes."

"Go get in the shower, Roo."

You watched him dash into your bedroom just as Jake walked back out of the kitchen with a water bottle. "I'm not gonna stay, Angel," Jake drawled, taking a sip of water. "Just wanted to say you looked real nice in that red bikini," he said, ducking out of the way of your hand aiming to smack him.

"How did you see it?" you asked, pushing him toward the front door while he howled with laughter. 

"He had his phone out all day, mooning over the smut you were sending him! It was right there on the screen!"

"Go away. Goodbye. Thanks for driving Bradley home. See you on Monday," you said, pecking him on the cheek before shoving him out the door. 

By the time you got to your bedroom, Bradley was walking out of the ensuite with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was sunburned and tipsy and so endearingly adorable, you started giggling. 

"My phone battery is almost dead, Baby Girl. Please tell me yours is good to go," he said, leaning against the doorframe, looking at you with one eyebrow raised. 

"Yep, My phone is good to go. Are you good to go, Roo? I can't tell if your cheeks are rosy from the sunburn or the drinks," you said, teasing his abs with your fingers. 

"I'm always good to go for you," he promised, and you knew it was the truth. 

You unwrapped the yellow towel from his waist and licked your lips at the sight of him half hard. "Go get in bed," you whispered, and he was on his way. He watched you shimmy out of your jeans and grab your phone. You crawled up the bed next to him and whispered, "You want me to be your bratty little slut again tonight? Or are you going to be my Daddy?"

He pulled you close and kissed you. "I get to choose?" 

"Yeah," you told him with a wink. "A special treat to take on your deployment."

He was rubbing his hands along your bustier and down over your butt. "Well, I already have a video with my bratty little slut," he said, and you watched his cock jump against his thigh. "Daddy wants to play tonight. You look like a little princess in this color."

You moaned against his mouth. "Sounds good to me," you said, fiddling with your phone and letting him hold it as he started recording you. You watched Bradley grin as he pushed your underwear aside a bit to record you shaking your hips with your tattoo exposed. "Did you just call me a princess?" 

"Yeah," he grunted as you wrapped your hand around his length. "Daddy's little princess, all pretty in pink."

For a moment you marveled over the fact that you had an easier time slipping into the role of a bratty little slut. But after a moment of wiggling yourself along his body, you thought you had the hang of Daddy's princess.

"Daddy, I had such a long day," you said, a whine tingeing the edges of your voice as you straddled his lap and ran your fingers along your lace and satin covered torso. "I am exhausted from spending your money."

Bradley groaned softly, setting goosebumps loose across your skin. "Tell me what you bought, Princess," Bradley instructed, grinding his cock against the front of your panties. He ran his thumb along your bottom lip, parting them and coaxing you to lick the tip. "And then tell Daddy he's allowed to do whatever he wants with you."

You sucked on his thumb. Bradley was the hottest thing in the world. As you listed off some of the things you bought with his credit card, Bradley gently wrapped one hand around the front of your neck and then pulled the pink fabric of your underwear to the side, letting his cock glide through your wetness. You only briefly recognized that he had propped your phone up to record everything before you got lost in him completely. 

"And how much of my money did you spend, Princess?" he asked, his raspy voice making you even wetter as he licked his lips. 

"Two thousand dollars," you gasped as his big hand slipped lower on your neck and trailed over the tops of your breasts. 

He tsked with his tongue and shook his head. "That's not enough."

"I was supposed to spend more?" you asked, your voice breaking as Bradley slipped his cock inside you. He yanked you closer with his fingers on the back of your neck, and you gasped as he started kissing you. 

"You were supposed to spend all of it. Why does Daddy even work, other than to pamper you, Baby Girl?" You squeezed around his cock just at the mere implication of his words. 

"Are you going to take care of me forever?" you asked softly against his lips as you rode him slowly. He responded by swiping his tongue deep into your mouth and making you moan. 

"As long as you take care of Daddy."

You were whimpering now as your clit was grinding against him with each movement. 

"You can have anything you want," you promised him. And you felt it before you saw it. Bradley ripped the crotch of your pretty, new underwear to get full access to your pussy. He was suddenly fucking up into you hard, the veins in his neck and forehead prominent against his slightly sunburned skin.

"Oh my god!" you hissed, surprised by what he had done. 

But no sooner had you recovered before he was smacking your thighs gently and saying, "Up. Turn around and get on all fours."

You did as you were told, watching his wet length slide out of you, wishing you were allowed to lick him. But that's not what Daddy wanted. 

When you were on your hands and knees in front of him, he pushed your face down against the bedding before kissing and licking all along your wet slit and rear end from behind. 

"You didn't listen, Princess," he said before lapping his tongue against you. "Gotta spank you."

He landed one hard slap on your butt before you could even respond. "Daddy," you whined as he spanked you again and again. You felt feverish with need while he spanked you and scolded you for not spending enough money on honeymoon attire. You were clenching around nothing as he told you to go back to the store and replace the underwear that was now just a piece of elastic around your waist. 

He spanked you harder as he said, "If you're my Princess, you can have anything you want."

"I want you to fuck me!" you almost screamed as his hand landed on you again. But you knew he wasn't going to do that yet. Rather he lightly spanked your pussy from behind, his fingers hitting your wet clit as you whined. 

Then he shoved two long fingers deep inside you without warning and leaned up to press his lips to your neck right below your ear. You almost cried when he whispered, "What's my name?"

"Daddy!" Your broken yell filled the room. "I want you to fuck me, Daddy!"

His cock replaced his fingers immediately, and he fucked you hard, your cheek pressing into the bed. But the spanking only paused momentarily. He grabbed you around your waist with his left hand, getting a handful of you just below your bustier while he landed a stinging slap on your already overworked skin. All while slamming into you. 

"You didn't do what Daddy wanted."

"Please." You were almost crying, and you wanted to cum so badly. "I'll do whatever you want."

"You go back to the store and spend more money. I want you wearing something new for me each day on our honeymoon. No exceptions." 

You tried your best to verbally agree with him, and soon he wrapped his fingers around to tease your clit instead of spank you. With just a few swipes of his talented fingers, you came hard, a few of your tears trailing along your nose to the bedding. 

The familiar sound of Bradley cumming inside your pussy had you smiling at last as he filled you up. He wrapped both arms around you and yanked you up flush against his chest. "You really are Daddy's little Princess, Baby GIrl."

You moaned softly as he kissed along your bare shoulder. "Occasionally I'm your bratty little slut."

"I love you," he promised, and he let you lay against him as he eased back against the pillows, his cock still buried inside you.

"My ass is throbbing, Roo," you whispered with a soft laugh as he ran his mustache along your neck. 

"But you did so good. I'll get you in the bath in a minute, Sweetheart."

You just relaxed back into his embrace while he touched and kissed you. "I hope you enjoy that video while you're deployed." You kissed along his tattoo and ran the tip of your nose across the pretty script writing.

"I can guarantee I will," he promised, finally reaching for your phone to end the video. 

You turned and smiled at him when he said, "And now I have several minutes of us cuddling together to watch as well. I might watch that part the most."

---------------------------

Bradley scooped you up and carried you to the bathroom, setting you on the edge of the tub while he got the water ready for you. He wasn't kidding; he'd always do his best to take care of you and give you anything you wanted. Because you tried to take care of him, too. And you were really all he wanted. 

"Climb in, Sweetheart," he whispered, and he watched you unfasten what was left of that sinfully hot lingerie and sink into the water. "I'm sorry I ripped your underwear."

You started laughing as you turned to look at him. "You're not sorry!"

He grimaced. "I'm a little bit sorry. Buy a new one. You still have my credit card." He knelt on the floor next to the tub and helped you get settled.

"I'll buy a new one next week when I go back to the store to ensure I have something new to wear for all ten days of our honeymoon. Daddy told me I had to."

Bradley actually felt himself blushing. He liked it when you called him that even when it wasn't exactly part of foreplay or bedroom activities. You were making him feel so substantial in your life. 

"Roo, next weekend is Halloween," you whispered as he sat on the floor and watched you wash your arms while Tramp curled up in his lap. "Gotta start planning our party."

"We're really having it? I thought maybe you brought that up just to distract Cam and Maria from the wedding conversation?" he absentmindedly stroked Tramp's ears, completely mesmerized by you. 

"We're really having it. And I know just what our costumes can be," you said with a playful look in your eye.

"Tell me," he whispered, leaning toward you and kissing your nose. 

"Well... I think you can get away with wearing part of your dress whites for your costume..."

He smiled. "Okay, sounds good so far. I love it when you take my uniforms off of me. But what's your costume?"

You just chuckled and said, "Oh, you'll like it. And it comes with three wishes for me to grant for you."

-----------------------------

Making another video....oof, I love them. Happy Halloween? Any costume guesses?

PART 14

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[sjsmith56]

Snowfall, Part 2 - Recognized

Summary: Bucky escorts Leia to a “meet the author” function hosted by her publisher. An encounter with an overly-friendly fan leads to the revelation that Leia is facing some challenges.

Length: 4.6 K

Characters: Bucky, Leia, Pepper Stark, Happy Hogan, OMC.

Warnings: Minors DNI - contains sexual content (not explicit) which may be unsuitable for those under the age of 18, stalker behaviour, Leia concerned for Bucky’s well being.

<<Part 1

Friday couldn't come soon enough for Bucky.  He talked to Sam on Thursday about meeting Leia and being completely bowled over by her.  At first, his friend teased him but when Bucky didn't respond to the bait, Sam's tone changed.

"You're really serious about her?" he asked, curious at how Bucky's voice changed when he spoke about her.  "That's fast."

"I am," admitted the super soldier.  "It's like I've known her for a long time but there's so many layers to her that I want to spend the rest of my life getting to know her better.  The best part is that I have no doubts about us; she makes me feel good in every way."

"Damn, that's something."  Sam's voice was warm and supportive.  "I should make a trip to New York soon to meet her.  If she's all that, then it's a good thing for you."

"It is a good thing for me, and I'll spend all my time with her being the best man I can be."

On Friday evening, Bucky walked to Leia's through the light snowfall.  He carried his dress shoes in a gym bag, not wanting to get them wet.  He also carried a change of clothes, after confirming with her that this time he was staying.  He wore his only suit, a black one, with a white shirt and black tie, sending her a selfie before he left, to make sure it was okay for the occasion.  She sent back a short video of her blowing him a kiss, that made him feel giddy with anticipation.  The look on her face when she opened her apartment door was proof that she was impressed.

"Wow, you look great," she smiled.  "You could have been a model."

His cheeks warmed up in embarrassment at her compliment as he took his walking shoes off, then he took a good look at her, wearing a red knit dress that hugged her body, with sleek black boots, her hair pulled back into a low bun and gold hoops in her ears.

"You look stunning.  Red is your colour."

"Thank you."  She noticed his bag.  "You can put your bag in the bedroom, if you want, and change into your dress shoes."

Following her to the bedroom, Bucky placed his bag on a chair and took his dress shoes out.  She waited as he put them on, trying not to seem like she was hovering.  Standing up when the lacing was done, he approached where she leaned against her dresser, idly taking one of her hands in his.

"I should be nervous," he said quietly, kissing her hand.  "I'm not very good at social situations but with you I feel calm."

She glanced down for a moment, then swallowed.  "For what it's worth, I feel the same about you."  The buzzer from the lobby sounded and she looked at him apologetically.  "That will be the driver.  We should get down there."

He helped her on with the red coat, then waited as she locked up.  When they entered the lobby the driver nodded at her, then noticed Bucky, his eyes widening slightly in recognition.  The ride into Manhattan took a little longer due to the snow on the streets but they didn't mind, as they held hands in the back seat.  Several times during the drive, the driver glanced back at Bucky in the rear-view mirror, confirming that he recognized the super soldier.  At the location where the event was being held, he gave Leia a card with his phone number, explaining he would need about 10 minutes lead time to pick her up.

"Make sure you're not alone while you're waiting," he said, then gestured to Bucky.  "I'm sure this guy will keep you safe."

Before either of them could comment he left them at the entrance.  After checking Leia's coat in, they were directed to the event, a transformed workspace in a former industrial building.  Holding Bucky's hand, she looked for her agent, finding her inside the large area which was decorated with a winter theme. 

"Adriana, you're here," said the older woman, air kissing Leia on both cheeks.  "Who is your handsome date?"

"Roberta, this is Bucky Barnes." 

Her agent hesitated for a moment, then offered her hand.  Bucky's presence obviously surprised her, but she quickly introduced him to her husband, then sought out the host of the event, introducing the pair.  He was gracious to both, then advised Leia that she would be introduced along with several other authors mid way through the evening, followed by her participation in a book signing.  In the meantime, she should mingle.

"Let's get a drink," she suggested to Bucky. 

As they made their way to the bar, she noticed the way people looked at Bucky with trepidation and whispered to each other.  By the time she placed her request for some white wine, she was troubled by the reaction to him.  With their glasses in hand, they retreated to a spot where they felt comfortable.  Soon, Leia felt Bucky's fingers touching her own.

"I'm alright," he said, feeling a little bothered at the scrutiny that was being directed at her because of his presence.  "I'm not bothered by the whispers.  I've heard it enough times."

"Well, it bothers me," she declared.  "They don't even know you."

"True, but my past makes it difficult for them to approach me.  Most people don't see past what I was."

Another guest arrived, being well known enough to cause some excitement and divert attention away from Bucky and Leia.  After she was introduced to a few people, the new arrival looked around, making eye contact with Bucky, and smiling.  Immediately, she came over, raising her hand in greeting.

"I didn't expect to see you here," said Pepper Stark, smiling kindly at him.

"I'm here with Leia," he replied, then looked at his date with a slight frown.  "Am I to introduce you by your pseudonym or your real name?"

"If it's a friend you trust, my real name, otherwise my pen name, or both," smiled Leia.

"Pepper Stark, meet Leia Dunn, otherwise known as Adriana Weller," said Bucky.

"Yes, the author of Reflections on a Small Town," exclaimed Pepper.  "I enjoyed that very much.  I'm glad your agent submitted the manuscript to us.  We're already getting some interest for the movie rights." 

"You own the publishing company?" asked Leia.

"Stark Industries is the parent company, but I am involved in editorial decisions so basically, yes."  She noticed someone she knew and nodded towards him as he also saw her.  "You'll have to excuse me while I pay my respects to this man.  I have to play nice with him."  She stepped a few feet away then looked back.  "We'll talk more.  I'm glad to see you here, Bucky."

"How do you know her?" asked Leia, looking up at her date.

"Well, she was part of the force fighting Thanos during the Battle of Earth," said Bucky.  "She also helped provide evidence of my treatment under HYDRA, sending the decrypted files that proved it was torture to my lawyer.  She's been supportive ever since."

"That was nice of her."  Leia squeezed his hand.  "I'm glad she came to say hi."

After Pepper's acknowledgment of Bucky, they noticed more people smiling at them, and several others stopped to make small talk.  It was obvious that if the CEO of Stark Industries was okay with his presence, they could be as well.  Shortly after the host appeared on the dais and welcomed everyone to the formal part of the event.  He introduced the six authors in attendance, sharing a brief summary of their writing careers after inviting them up to the stage.  Then he called Pepper up to say a few words.

Bucky watched from the back of the room, his glass in hand, when his attention was taken by another man at the back of the room, watching the proceedings.  There was something off about him, in a non-specific way; there wasn't one particular thing that bothered him about the man.  He attributed the feeling to his years as the Asset, noticing the small details as part of a bigger picture.  While the man took pictures with his cell phone of the authors as they talked about their current books, Bucky watched him closely, as it seemed that the man took more photos of Leia than anyone else.  Then Bucky's attention was drawn back to the podium where the host announced that the authors would be signing copies of their books for the attendees, at tables set up around the venue.  Closing his remarks, the host thanked everyone for attending on such a wintry night, exhorting them to get home safely. 

Leia looked for him from the stage, giving him a little shrug that he interpreted as her regret for keeping him there a bit longer.  He shrugged back, with what he hoped was a supportive smile as she followed one of the publisher's assistants to a table at the edge of the large space.  Joined by Pepper, they both watched as Leia began signing her books, engaging with the people that lined up at her table.

"She's lovely," said Pepper.  "You must have just met because she only moved here about 10 days ago."

"Wednesday," he replied.  "She lives several blocks from me, and we both ended up in the same coffee shop at the same time.  We just clicked.  This is our second date."

"What are you up to these days?"

"I finally got my settlement for back pay and the PoW treatment," he replied.  "Trying to decide whether to put some of it towards buying a house or investing it.  I might go to school and take some courses.  Have to do something now that it looks like the Avengers aren't starting up anytime soon."

He didn't tell her about the numerous offers to become a hit man, offers that made him wonder if the world would ever see him as someone other than the Winter Soldier.  It wasn't a career he was interested in returning to.

"Yeah."  She shook her head, that single word said in a way that was not just sad but disappointed.  "I had to sell the tower.  It was always Tony's project and the constant upkeep just on the security systems alone without him in charge was more than what I was capable of.  Don't even talk to me about the taxes."

"I'm sorry.  That must have been difficult."

"It was."  She looked up at him.  "Maybe once the election is over you and Sam can head up a revamped version of the Avengers with the new administration.  You showed them that they're still needed."

He shrugged, knowing Sam had been lobbying extensively for that, but had basically been ignored in official circles.  Then he frowned.  The man who had been taking pictures was in Leia's lineup, seeming a little too intense for his liking.  Pepper looked at where Bucky's attention was focused.

"Problem?"

"He was back here taking pictures of all the authors, but mostly Leia."  He shook his head.  "The way he was focused on her set off some warning bells in my head."

Pepper took her phone out, took a picture of the man, and sent it in a text message to someone.  Within moments she got an answer. 

"He's not an invited guest," she said.  "Bucky, go stand behind Leia, while I get security over to deal with him.  I'll explain later."

With a nod, he headed over to the table, standing behind Leia.  She looked back and smiled at him, receiving one in return.  As she spoke to each person, and made out the dedication to them, even posing for selfies with some of them, he tried to keep his face neutral, so that the man, who was now next in line, didn't get spooked.  Bucky was aware of several security people approaching from the perimeter of the room, but they still had to wade their way through the people that were standing around.

"Hi, who should I make this out to?" asked Leia of the man, unaware of the drama that was unfolding.

"Edward," he said, leaning in close.  "Would you please sign it with your real name?"

She frowned.  "Excuse me?"

"Please sign it as Leia Dunn, if you wouldn't mind."

Bucky placed his hand on the book, closing it, then giving his most intense look at the man.  "The author's name is Adriana Weller."

"Oh, I know," smiled the man, his eyes seeming too bright and too assured.  "But it's not her real name.  Leia, don't you remember me?"

Her face dropped and she stood up, placing Bucky between her and Edward.  The man sighed and reached into his jacket inside pocket, triggering Bucky into grasping his hand.

"I'm just getting my phone out," said Edward peevishly.  "I only want to prove that Leia and I are old friends.  Surely, she can sign a book in her own name for a friend."

Happy Hogan was the first security agent to get to the table and he looked to Bucky, who shook his head minutely.  Let this play out.  The two men watched Edward closely as he unlocked his phone revealing a wallpaper screen of him posing with Leia.  He opened his photo gallery to show the photo in its entirety.  With his left hand, Bucky took it and showed it to her.

"That's in my hometown," she said, in a low voice.  "I self published the book originally and would sell it at farmer's markets and such.  He must have bought a copy there.  I don't remember him."

Bucky handed it back.  So far, the man hadn't done anything illegal, other than crash a private party.  As he contemplated what to say to the man, the host arrived with Pepper and two other security guards.

"Sir, this is a private party, and you were not invited.  I insist that you leave."

"I just want her to sign it in her real name," frowned Edward.  "What's wrong with signing a book for a fan from home?"

"Because I have a private life." Leia was beside Bucky now, the fear mixed with anger clear in her voice.  "Do you know what kind of letters I've received from so-called fans?  How do I know you're not a stalker?"

Edward looked shocked.  "No!  I wouldn't do that.  I love your writing.  You shouldn't have to hide behind a false name.  Are they forcing you to do this?  Is this because of your father?"

Leia stumbled backwards as if she had been hit.  What did this man know?

"Alright, I've heard enough," said Bucky.  He removed the glove from his left hand, placing it in Edward's view.  "You've been asked nicely to leave, now I'm telling you.  Ms. Weller writes under that name for a good reason.  You crashed this event and it's within the publisher's rights to throw you out and charge you with trespassing.  Leave now or I'll make you leave."

The other man kept his dignity, although he was unhappy at being singled out.  With a slight grimace, he put his phone back into his jacket and left with the two security guards, looking back at her only once.  Bucky touched Leia's cheek, gazing intently at her.

"Are you alright?  Do you want to call it a night?"

"I'm fine, just a little shaken," she replied, then looked at the lineup of people still waiting.  "I'll sign for them then we can go, okay?"

While Pepper and the others left, he pushed her chair in when she sat back down in it, then stayed behind her until she finished signing for the last person.  It was obvious there was something else going on, something she hadn't revealed to him, but he wasn't about to call her out on it.  Her fear of Edward was real, and he didn't want to add to that.

"Call the driver," suggested Bucky, as Leia stood up.  "We'll say our goodbyes, get your coat and go home, okay?"

She nodded, taking out the card that was given to her.  While she was making the call, Pepper and Happy came back over, standing just out of earshot from Leia.

"I'm taking her home," said Bucky.  "She's shaken up a little."

"It's probably for the better," said Pepper, then she glanced at Happy.  "She obviously hasn't told you everything, but we did have someone watching her, making sure no one bothered her.  He recognized you and checked with me about whether to intervene.  I vouched for you, Bucky; both of us did."

"Seriously?  You had me under surveillance, as well.  Did she know about any of it?" 

Happy shook his head.  "We didn't want to interfere in her private life but some of the letters were disturbing and we wanted her to be safe.  Look, you're a good operative, probably the best.  We want you to be her personal bodyguard."

A short bitter laugh was Bucky's reply.  "I'm in a relationship with her; at least the beginning of one.  You expect me just to turn it off and make her my job?"  Aware that Leia finished her phone call, he turned away from Happy and Pepper.  "Is he on his way?"

"Yeah."  She looked at Pepper.  "I have to go.  It was nice to meet you."

"The pleasure was mine," smiled the older woman.  "We'll talk soon."  She looked at Bucky.  "Think about it."

No response came from him as he placed his hand on Leia's lower back and guided her to the coat check.  Helping her on with the red coat, he made sure she was all buttoned up before they went to the doors and waited the few minutes for their driver.  When the car pulled up the driver got out and opened the back door for them.  Bucky let Leia in first, then walked around to the back of the vehicle and gestured to the man, speaking to him in a low voice.

"Are you the man who's been watching over her?" 

He didn't answer at first then nodded.  "One of them.  I recognized you at the coffee shop and thought you had been hired but realized quickly that it was something else.  When I checked, Mr. Hogan vouched for you as trustworthy."  Bucky's demeanour alerted him.  "Did something happen?"

Bucky nodded.  "A fan who knew where she was from, demanded she sign his book with her real name.  It upset her.  They want me to be her personal bodyguard, but we're involved."

"It happens," he shrugged.  "Quite frankly, I think having you on the team would be a benefit.  Your skills are miles above the three of us on this assignment and we're all former agency people."  He stuck his hand out.  "I'm Greg Burnham.  Think about it, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky shook his hand, then got into the back seat while Burnham took the wheel.  Smiling warmly at Leia, Bucky took his right glove off and put his hand over hers, squeezing it.

"We'll talk when we get back to your place, okay?"

She nodded her head slightly and interlaced her fingers in his, seeking comfort from him.  Burnham said nothing on the drive, but his frequent glances at Bucky during the drive made him consider the assignment.   When Burnham opened Bucky's door, he palmed one of his cards into his gloved hand, then went to open Leia's door.  Despite not being part of her official detail, Bucky couldn't help but scan the surroundings, using his superior vision and auditory senses to make note of anyone in the area.  With a nod to Burnham, he took Leia's hand and went into the high rise while the other man maintained a presence on the street.  Once past the security doors, they waited quietly for the elevator, then got on, alone in the car.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking up at the floor indicator.

"For what?" he asked, turning to her.

"For not saying anything about the letters.  Everything else is the truth about writing and coming here.  It just sped up the timeline of when I came to New York.  Some of the letters were mailed from where I used to live, making the authorities concerned that he was a local.  Moving here was supposed to help keep him from following me."  Her lips began to tremble.  "Shit, I hate feeling this way." 

Pulling her into his arms, Bucky held her, kissing her head and just keeping her close.  When the doors opened on her floor, he stepped out first, taking in the scene, then offered her his hand.  Once inside the apartment, he helped her off with her coat, hanging it up in the closet.  Then he took her by the hand to the couch, sitting down with her.  The emotions she held in for much of the evening erupted at that point and he pulled her onto his lap, holding her while she cried.  Eventually, her sobs lessened, and she stayed curled up in Bucky's arms, feeling wrung out.  He tilted her head up towards him, kissing her on the forehead, then used his thumb to clean the tears from her face. 

"Better?" he asked.  She nodded.  "You were quite afraid of the man at the book signing, weren't you?  Especially when he mentioned your father."

"Yeah," she stammered a little.  "The first letters I got were addressed to my former address in my real name.  It was after I self-published and sent it to the publisher but before they accepted it.  The letters were disturbing but not really scary or violent.  When the publisher accepted it and announced the acquisition, the letters began to get darker in tone as he detailed his plans for me.  The bit about my father isn't well known.  Let's just say he wasn't a good man."  She seemed reluctant to expand on that.  "When I finally told the authorities about the letters, they thought it best that I move here sooner rather than later, and the publisher agreed.  We decided I should have a pen name and changed the title.  They think I don't know about the surveillance team, but I figured they wouldn't let me go out on my own without someone watching over me.  I tried to roll with it, not let it rule my life, but I guess what happened tonight was a reminder that I'm still vulnerable.  I'm glad you were there.  With you, I feel safe."

"They asked me to be your personal bodyguard, with you at all times," he said, wanting to be honest with her.  "It wasn't what I was expecting when we left here tonight."  An audible breath escaped from his lips as he gave her the next bit.  "It's not recommended for us to be involved if I agree."

Her disappointment was evident by how she slumped into him.  She sniffed, then nodded her head.

"I understand," she conceded.  "If being involved interferes with keeping me safe, then it's better that we're not attached to each other."

She already trusted his word about what was best for the situation.  He wanted to kiss her so much just for that.  But it wasn't that easy.  Even though he knew he should handle this by the book, what he said next surprised even himself.

"I don't necessarily agree with that.  It's not recommended but relationships do happen between a bodyguard and the person they protect.  We're already involved.  Even though it's still brand new for both of us, it's not something I want to give up.  If I agree to this, you have to promise me that you'll do what I say without hesitation.  No matter what, even if it puts me in danger, you must do as I ask.  Do you understand?"  She nodded.  "Promise?"

"I promise to do whatever you tell me, even if it puts you in danger."

"Okay.  I'll agree to be your personal bodyguard, which means I'm moving in," said Bucky.  "I can sleep on the couch if you're not comfortable ...."

Her mouth was on his, kissing him fiercely.  He responded just as strongly, trapping her body with his arms as if he were absorbing her body into his own.  When the kiss ended, they were both breathing heavily, their eyes intent on each other's lips.  Raising her hand to his cheek, Leia brushed her lips against his, then took in a short, sharp breath as he easily rose with her in his arms.  Undoing his tie and shirt along the way, she pressed her hand onto his chest, then placed open mouthed kisses along his neck and collar bone.  By the time they got to the bedroom, every thought of taking their time and gently exploring each other was lost to the powerful urge to possess each other physically.  Discarded clothing littered the floor, then Bucky went to his bag, searching for one of the condoms he had packed; the only interruption to their primal urges.  When he finally thrust into Leia, they both released a groan of pleasure, before resuming the pursuit of their desires. 

Since the Flag Smashers were dealt with, Bucky had several intimate encounters with different women.  None were viewed as anything more than a casual encounter.  They were like the proverbial ships in the night, meeting briefly, joining their bodies for a physical release, then a brief goodbye, never to see each other again.  It suited him as he fell back into his old ways of self-isolation, unwilling to open himself up emotionally.  But meeting Leia had sparked something in him, something deep and intense.  Ever since that moment when he saw her to her door after their first date, he didn't want to be anywhere else but with her.  That feeling intensified exponentially as their physical union approached the moment of ecstasy, something they both craved.

"Look at me," he commanded, wanting to see the moment she came reflected in her eyes.  "Baby, look at me when you come."

"Bucky.  Oh, God!" 

Even in the dark, her enlarged pupils seemed luminous to him, deep pools filled with the essence of everything he wanted.  Her bliss encompassed her entire body, bringing him to the edge of ecstasy, then pushing him into an abyss of total rapture as he surrendered to his release.  It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before with anyone.  Mindful enough to deal with the condom quickly, he returned from the bathroom with a glass of water, offering it to Leia and supporting her as she drank greedily to slake the thirst she felt after their exertions.  Back under the sheets with her, their bodies entwined in a tight embrace, he could feel the slow recovery of her pounding heart through her chest as it pressed against his side.  Her hand kneaded into his chest and abdomen, like a cat staking its claim on its property.  As brief as their acquaintance was, he knew without a doubt that he was hers, as much as she was his. 

It still wasn't the best idea for them to be romantically involved while he was responsible for her safety, but he was where he belonged, and where he wanted to be.  That was the moment he truly accepted what was asked of him, to protect Leia Dunn with everything he was capable of, while giving her all of himself emotionally.

Part 3>>

Series Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

[enid-rhees]

AKK, OKAY SO IDK IF I ALREADY REQUESTED SUMN LIKE THIS (my memory = shit 💀✋) BUTTTT

Imagine Carl has a sleepover with Enid and reader! They paint eachothers nails, braid Carl's hair (he acts like he hates it, but lowkey loves it heh), take selfies together with a Polaroid camera they found on a run, listen to music on an ipod (they also found on a run), and get high together hehe~

Maybe they play Truth or Dare, and Carl being the lil' shit head he is, dares reader to kiss Enid (they're not dating yet, but it's more than obvious that Enid and reader are crushing HARD on eachother!).

Just some fun teen stuff with our fav holy trinity 🛐💜

(I made this for some inspo for ya' :D!)

THESE TYPES OF STORIES ARE MY FAVVVV THERES SOMETHING ABT THEM THAT ARE JUST SM FUN !!! tysm for requesting :D !!! hope you enjoy 🩷 all these pics are *chefs kiss*

warnings: weed. smoke (and drink) responsibly !!

a/n: hope you all enjoy !! 🫶🏻 got quite a bit of stories coming out within the next week so look out for those :)

music was blaring through the scuffed ipod, the sound filling your entire room. Enid was busy painting your nails while Carl sat in the corner of your bed, reading a comic.

Enid sang along to ‘Bulletproof Love’ by Pierce the Veil as she swiped the brush down onto your nails one more time. “done!” she smiled, lightly fanning your nails with her hands to dry them quicker. she painted them light purple.

“how are you so good at this? i swear i stained the shit out of your fingers.” you asked, taking her hand to compare it to yours. Enid’s skin burned under your touch.

she giggled, “maybe i’m just better than you.” your jaw dropped as you gasped dramatically. “wow, okay.”

“i’m kiddinggggg.” she dragged out, hugging you from behind. a mischievous smile made its way to her lips as she whispered something in your ear. you mirrored that smile and you looked over at Carl.

“oh, Carllll.” you sang. he looked over at the two of you, staring with uncertainty in his eyes. “what are you two planning?” he asked cautiously.

“sit.” Enid instructed, patting the space in front of you and her. “tell me what you’re doing first.” he responded. 

Enid huffed. “can we braid your hair?”

“absolutely not.” he responded, shaking his said profusely. both of you whined, “cmon! just this once, you never let us do anything with your hair.” you pouted.

he shook us head once more. “no!”

you thought for a moment, trying to think of something you could easily bribe him with. “you can have a whole joint to yourself.” you said.

“deal.” he answered immediately. you rolled your eyes playfully as he sat in front of you guys, taking a joint from the bag of the hundreds you had.

Enid started to brush through his hair as you gathered hair ties and a few clip-ins for his hair. “if you’re gonna sit in my room during a girls night, you need to commit to it!” you told Carl.

“yeah, yeah. whatever, just get it over with.” he told you. you separated his hair into three sections and started to overlap them, creating the braid pattern.

Enid nudged your shoulder, holding up a joint. you nodded as you added one butterfly clip into the top of the braid. she lit the joint and took a few hits first before she held it up to your lips.

she watched you take into your lips, take a hit while also exhaling the smoke through the other side of your mouth as you worked on Carl’s hair. a blush made it’s way to her cheeks while she watched you.

“done!” you exclaimed. “see? didn’t even take me five minutes.” you handed him a hand mirror and pushed him over to the one that hung on your wall.

Carl turned around with the mirror so he could see the braid. his eyes widened, “you added butterfly clips?!” he screeched.

you and Enid bursted into laughter, holding onto each for for stabilization. “it’s cute!” you defended through your laughter.

“you’re both evil.” he said, pointing between the two of you. you shrugged, “you agreed to do it.”

“i didn’t agree to the butterfly clips!” he retorted. “can i please take this braid out?” he whined. you and Enid turned to each other, “i don’t know. Enid… should we let him?” you asked in a teasing tone.

Enid looked up at the ceiling like she was pretending to think. “okay, listen!” he exclaimed. “i have an idea. the two of you play one round of truth or dare and i’ll come up with either one, and if you do it, you have to let me take this braid out.”

“deal.” you said at the same time. “sit on the bed.” he instructed. you both took a seat back on the bed.

“Enid, truth or dare?”

“dare.” she said immediately. a devilish smile spread across his lips. he looked between the two of you before speaking up.

“Enid, i dare you to kiss Y/N.”

your heart felt like it stopped beating as those words fell out of Carl’s lips. you’ve had a crush on Enid for too long, and Carl knew that. you would lay upside down on his bed, ranting about how cute she looked that day, how her laugh was infectious, and all you wanted was to kiss her all day and be able to call her yours.

you told him it was impossible for Enid to like you back. someone as smart, or as beautiful as her could never like someone like you.

Enid’s face flushed red as she turned to you. your heart was now about to explode. but then she smiled, and leaned in, connecting your lips with hers.

it didn’t even feel real, and it took you a moment to kiss her back. she put a hand on the back of your head, and her touch brought you back to reality.

she pulled away after a short while, smiling at you while she breathed for air.

“god! fucking finally. i only said that so i could finally stop the whining from you two! both of you just blabbering on and on about how you can’t possibly like the other. i had to put that shit to an end!” Carl suddenly yelled, taking the braid apart as he did so.

you stared at him, dumbfounded. “you… planned that the entire time?” he nodded, “yes. and my work here is done.”

you and Enid turned to each other again, not knowing what to say or think. you broke out in laughter, causing Enid to start laughing as well. she leaned in once more, pressing a short kiss to your lips.

“okay- that doesn’t give you the pass to make out in front of me, alright? i just had to stop the whining and that’s it.”

“listen i’m gonna go shower, if i come back and you’re sucking on each others faces, you’re both dead.” he warned, leaving without another word.

“so…” you trailed off, “you like me, eh?” you asked, nudging her shoulder teasingly. she blushed, “more like love, but yeah. guess we both ranted to Carl about our crush on each other.”

“poor guy. had to deal with our constant whining.” you laughed. you scooted closer to her to where your thighs touched.

“how long did you have a crush on me?” Enid asked you. “since the day we arrived in Alexandria.” you responded immediately. it was an easy question, the first time you saw her, you were entranced. “what about you?”

“the same. i can’t believe we both waited this long.” she answered. Enid leaned in once more, pressing her lips to yours.

this was the closest to heaven you’d ever get, her lips on yours.

you kissed back, tangling your fingers into her hair. you weren’t sure if it was the haziness you felt from the weed, or maybe even her kiss, but you couldn’t get enough of her. your skin ignited under her touch.

when she pulled away, both of you were breathing heavily. “i don’t think i’ll ever be able to get enough of kissing you.” you admitted. “me either.”

Enid picked up the beaten up polaroid camera from your bedside table and held it in front of you two. she suddenly kissed your cheek, and then snapped a photo. the picture slid out of the camera and she pulled it out, shaking it until the picture appeared.

“cute.” she giggled. “how much film is left in this?”

you scratched your head, “quite a bit. i found some more a while back.” she smiled, “good. cause we’re using them. wanna light two joints for us?”

you took two out of the bag and lit each of them. Enid held up the camera again as you both put the joints between your lips, and snapped the picture. she took it out of the camera and placed it on your table.

“smile.” she said suddenly, even thought you had the joint in your mouth. she took the picture and smiled to herself when it came out, “i’ll be keeping that.”

you shook your head and laughed. “what was that for?” she shrugged, “you looked cute.” she answered simply. Enid placed the camera back on your table and laid down on your bed. you laid next to her.

Enid backed up until she was completely pressed against you. you wrapped an arm over her stomach and laid your head in her neck. “god, this is so comfortable.” you groaned, “you’re staying the night. i do not care if Maggie gets mad, you’re staying here.”

she giggled, “that sounds perfect.” Enid picked up the camera once more, snapping a quick photo of the position you two are in. “we’re so cute,” she mumbled when the picture slid out.

you hummed in agreement, feeling yourself getting sleepy. you were so comfortable holding Enid like this, you decided this is what you want to do for the rest of your life.

“tired?” she asked. you nodded, and Enid turned over so she was now facing you. she laid her head in your neck, and her legs tangled with yours. “wanna sleep?”

you nodded again. Enid lifted her head up slightly and connected your lips. you sleepily kissed her back. when she pulled away, she placed one kiss on your head and laid her head back down in your neck.

“goodnight, girlfriend.”

you chuckled, bringing your head down slightly to kiss hers as well. “goodnight, girlfriend.”

after a few minutes, both of you were fast asleep. Carl walked back into your room, drying his long hair with a towel. he was about to speak until he noticed the two of you sleeping peacefully in your bed, arms and legs tangled with each other. he laughed quietly and shook his head, turning your light off before leaving your room and closing the door behind him.

[simp999]

A New Home Ch. 4

Various splatoon manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1.3k

Back to the start! Previous Next

‘Shoot.’ 

Assuming that nobody would be out here, you forgot to pay attention to where you were walking. Yet another run-in. So much for hiding your presence.

“Hey hey~, Watch out, cutie!”

You know that tone of voice, it must be…! 

You take a quick glance up, and you only catch a quick blur of pink before rushing off, remembering that you should be avoiding any significant characters as much as possible. Keeping your gaze on the ground, you spot some Gold High-Horses and Green Rain Boots, and man, you’re this close to squealing. 

‘It’s real. My favorite characters are right in front of me! It’s too bad even a little interaction could change the story. Aloha’s supposed to call Army out for being weak or something right about now.’

While looking for a spot to hide away from any important characters, you spot a pair of headphones at Cooler Heads. They should still be functional, right? You go into the store and check them out, seeing if they’re compatible with your phone. Bluetooth, perfect. They have a pretty long-lasting battery, and there are buttons on the side to skip, pause, play, and adjust the volume. Sweet. You continue to walk around Booyah Base since you’ve got nothing better to do, testing out some new gear and practicing in Sheldon’s training area for a bit just for fun. Not like you could carry around any more weapons, but it’s still good to test other ones out and find their weaknesses. You go back to one of the shops when you’re done to go find a mirror to fix yourself up in. You straighten out your gear, hearing a familiar voice.

“Oh! Team Blue will love this helmet!”

‘Oh, not again!’  You swiftly hide behind a pile of boxes in the store, and the clerk putting stuff away looks at you. You completely forgot about how Goggles ripped his clothes in his next battle and needed some new ones. You didn’t think the next battle would be so soon! 

‘Hey, that means Aloha’s up next! He’s not supposed to get hit a single time in this battle, right? I should really go watch him and check out his techniques.’

You attempt to sneak out of the store when Goggles and his team are distracted, hoping to make your way over to the paused battle. But you memory decides that it should betray you once again, and when you’re about to walk out the door, a pink squid stops you.

“Hey~ it’s you from earlier! You ran off pretty quick, y’know, I’m used to people asking for a selfie or an autograph.” You stand there frozen, unsure of what to do. You don’t want to start up a conversation, knowing he’s got somewhere to be. Aloha leans in closer to you,

“Aw, you just a lil’ shy? That’s cute~, ah well, I’ve gotta go, so I’ll be seeing you around, sweetheart!”

He waltzes off, presumably to go kidnap Safari-Kun. You would butt in, but that’s not part of the story. Sorry, dude.

You finally make your way over to Blackbelly Skatepark and it’s a lot less crowded. Guess it makes sense that the S4’s battles have the seats full and regular ones don’t. You make yourself comfortable and place your weapon on the seat to your left, then your bag to the right. You try to watch for Aloha since the manga doesn’t focus on him up until the Inkstrike. Now that you can actually pay attention to him, you see that he’s just kinda holding his weapon as if he should be firing it, and he’s hiding in corners. You snicker at how half-assed his effort is, and wait until you hear the sounds of an Inkstrike to really pay attention. You spot Aloha immediately, recognizing that quick and agile movement right away.

‘Wow, he really is flexible. Maybe I should practice that?’ You pick up your off-brand manual and skip to your page labelled “git gud”, which has a couple of bullet points on what you’d like to practice. So far you’ve got making your footsteps lighter and stretching to make yourself more flexible written down. Even little things can help in battle if you plan on possibly battling the best of the best. The rest of the battle isn't surprising, as always. Though, you're glad you got to see how Aloha battles up close, you can tell there's lots of training behind it. Even if he doesn't admit to training, he definitely had to have gotten some agility and strength training from surfing and dancing.

'Bet he can breakdance pretty well.'

You leave early once again, desperately trying to avoid Aloha. You weren't sure when his and Goggles' battle was going to be, but you assumed the day after since Team Blue had already had two battles today. It was only about two pm, so you decided to work on your training. First, you went over to Sheldon's training area to focus on quieting your footsteps, while still attempting to destroy the targets in record time. You slowly got better at it, noticing your mistakes and improving from there. You were comfortable with how much noise you made on the 23rd round of busting targets, so you figured it's time for turf. The first game went as usual, and you were glad to see the opponent's faces contort with fear and surprise when you'd suddenly appear behind them. 

"Nothin' personal, kid."

But it seems you were enjoying your newly acquired skill too much, and you focused more on splatting your opponents rather than inking. You'd still be sure to ink around when you had time so it wasn't a problem, but your opponents were obviously salty about how they could never get any farther than a third into the map and get splatted immediately, having less and less time between splats. Your teammates loved the easy wins, but your opponents verbally attacked you like an 8-year-old on CoD. Not a big deal, it doesn't affect you. But it was definitely headache-inducing. After the third match of salty opponents you decided you could either play nice, or play dirtier. And so, you threw your headphones on, swapping your headgear for those, and put them at full volume, completely tuning out your opponents. Now this was easy. All was well up until one of the opponents tried to turn the tables and copy your trick. You made some millisecond long calculations and realised that there was an opponent missing from your view. Not missing a beat, you spun on your heel, dodged to the side to avoid the ink flying at you, and splatted your opponent.

'Damn! That felt so cool, go me!'

You walked off and continued to ink the turf around you, bopping your head to the beat coming from your headphones. Hey, wait. You still can't hear anything around you. That means you noticed that opponent while one of your most important senses was completely turned off. 

'Awesome. S'pose I'm getting better. Next comes the blindfold!'

You think jokingly to yourself. Yeah, as if you could battle without being able to see. Wait actually, that might be a good training idea. You'd kinda need real people for that, not targets, but even just being able to pinpoint people's locations from sound alone could be quite useful.

By the end of the day, your opponents now seem to have a proper sense of the game, and are starting to understand their weapons properly. Some even think twice before attacking. Wow, never thought you'd ever see the day. They have their own gear and know where they belong on the battlefield, for the most part. Now it's getting fun. You'd probably guess that your opponents are around level 30 or so. Now your targets aren't just like some deer in headlights when you attack, they actually think to move sometimes. The score at the end of the games don't change much though.

Next Part

apr.8.23

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary274

6/17-18/24

monday - tuesday

our friend has gone now...

sad to see him go, like i said i would be, we spent a long time together today, we drove around for like 3 hours going around the city, just looking at stuff, letting him experience the vegas hellscape, when we were also w/ my gf we went to a nice cafe in chinatown, she also went to get a kpop cd at a kpop store cuz she's really into this group called ateez, and loves seonghwa, so she got his special cd. she is super happy about it. never before has she been into a kpop group, it's really cute/sweet to see her be so dorky about something new. it makes me happy. it also makes me feel kind of sad, or something, like sad i can't be like that for her, but that's me being crazy and jealous in a way, like i can't be a symbol, but it's better to be a thing. i am just insane.

here's some pics i took at the cafe of drinks + food:

i'm such a classic #blogger now. wow. pointless photos taken with a trashy camera.. whoa...

anyway, going around the city, i had my friend go into the orleans casino and look around, just because it's such a weird place, and he hadn't gone into a vegas casino yet, so it's just something i had him do to experience like, how sad this place can feel i guess, plus he writes too so maybe that'll give him somewhere to think about, that kinda thing. i took some pix in there on my psp cam:

the sky was so beautiful as we were leaving the orleans, the place is like hell but there's some really lovely sunsets. i need to get my reg camera battery'd up so i can take nice pics again.

becuz i took kind of unflattering / uggy pics with the psp camera i took front facing pics with the computer webcam... look at this, i think this is what i really look like, actually, or like, kinda, it mostly looks like the mirror selfies except i am more messy looking rn... but a diary is for all these wastes of air/thought so look. if you are looking. whoever is looking. i think i am not as rat-y as the psp pics:

anyway... what else. well, we got lost during the drive a bit, which made me panic. he said some interesting stuff, among those things was how the city reminded him of toronto in places, the desolation + the isolation, specific streets, it made him kind of sad, because he didn't want to go back home, and already he felt it returning to him. sad world!!!

when we got lost it was because there's some streets that are named after other streets, just kind of confusing and nonsense city planning. he talked about how driving an automatic car made it feel like cruising through an apocalypse, how a manual car would make the panic more palpable, the city was super anesthetized to him. it is that kind of place. even the confusion of getting lost was like, chill, and it was kind of a situation where we just had to reorient and go straight a while. he got to see places i grew up/spent years around, which idk if that's ever interesting for anyone, but it's always interesting to me to see others seeing that.

here are some pics of fake flowers:

the sore throat is still here too but barely, at least, it is going away slowly.

also i found these on that site, which i ought to have linked also, this is the site:

it's super useful for graphic design references i think, if you are into this kind of thing.

here's the thing i found that's super cool, to me, another bunch of things that seem super ripe for just ripping, and things i feel like i've seen ripped already by some bands i like from a book called the magic box:

reminds me of so much white belt graphic design...like #wow #whoa.

speaking of white belt, i listened to this album again today:

(links to the playlist if you go to the vid on yt)

it is a classic, such a good drum sound, such great melodies on the synths/keyboards, and super crazy guitar sounds. it's got an almost no-wave-y thing going on with the playing at times, it veer rhode island noise rock almost but remains oddly tethered to hardcore riffing in a sick way. as well, the atmosphere/occasion/space the record drums up is so unique, a cold thing nearly but it's still rather warm, not sci fi but speaks to like, digital alienation in a way, the voice so far off, the dance parts so common are also like, only just parts, you know, the songs are made fragmentary which is normal for whitebelt stuff but it's employed differently by each band, whether they know it or not, in tensions of mania or alienation, passion or a floaty-ness, this is the tension of mania and distance, of freaking out and the inability to freak out, i think, the melodies are so strong they form a buffer around the freakouts, cocoons almost, maybe.

i also keep thinking about that guy from last night, how sad he makes me. and tomorrow, i will maybe feel something sad, we're taking my gf's brother to this one piece collab cafe thing out here. i hope that is fun but he can make things really tragic kind of, accidentally even.

anyway, the sun's coming up, i really must be getting to sleep so:

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[crulwrld]

Stew

They say if you’re the smartest person in a room, you need to get out of that room. It rings to me, it’s why I stopped going to bars after getting sober. I’m lighting in a bottle. I’m clever. If I drink, I promise you I’ll end up coked out at the end of the night, getting fucked by a stranger I seduced in the back of an unmarked cab.

I have a boyfriend now, Brandon, he drinks wine on the weekends. He’s a bartender at a fine dining restaurant—a “mixologist,” he professes, so I’m sure he drinks on the job. I can’t say I’m tempted by it. I don’t like being depressed for three days after I drink. It makes me homicidal and suicidal. I also like to think it makes Brandon less conscious than me.

There are three men who I work with at the coffee shop. I’m pretty, they like to listen to me talk about myself. I do lots of things. I paint and draw portraits of people. I put my face in the right light, show the men my work and they say,

“Oh wow, that’s better than I thought it would be!”

Like most men, they’re shocked women can be good at things.

I feel supercharged with powerful emotions, and it makes me become a very rambunctious woman. I scream songs to stay sober. I paint dead animals, maybe a Renaissance woman dismembered by a fierce set of hounds, shredded out next to them, ouroboros, wilderness. My creative process is not evergreen. It only comes out the way I like when I have more energy than I can handle. I’m very insecure that what I create may say nothing or isn’t worth it. I scrap most of what I conjure, and that makes me very sad. It feels as though my light flickers out almost the instant it’s ignited, I melt into a pool of wax that goes hard and cold.

I hate hearing other people talk about themselves. You could call it misanthropy, I don’t care. Try as I might against it, I’m pretty self-absorbed. I can’t avoid getting stuck in the mirror. My camera roll is gluttonous with selfies. It’s true, I nitpick, myself especially. I dissect my own behavior at all times and forget everyone else has their own universe, intelligence inside of them. It’s believable to me that I’m more strategic and on a level of awareness above those around me, and it makes life quite bleak. I was going to be a Gender Studies major in college, but learned quickly after research that I was more in the misandrist camp—but not even that encapsulates how I feel—I despise most everything and everyone, and hate injecting a fluffy, philosophical attitude into my lived experience. I find that stance too altruistic and flighty. I feel like it’s how stupid people, who are confused about who they are, overcompensate. It’s simple: I keep score of how I’ve been wronged and make sure to get back at people, usually by making them feel insecure. Like Lana Del Rey said, “Peace by vengeance brings the end.” I use their secrets and fears as ammunition. You don’t want to tell me a secret and then offend me. Not at all.

I want my existence to make people question the stories they tell themselves. I like to think I have that hypnotic effect. Dilating the pupils.

I used to do cocaine often, daily, I felt very dirty all the time. In mind and body. Though, I do miss how skinny I was on it, food was utterly disgusting to me back then, now, it’s moderately disgusting—and sadly, I just get hungry. Sometimes I feel the gross fat giggle around my body here and there. I’d slice it off if I was rich enough.

One of the times I spent with blow, I had a man I was dealing with, and he left me at a dive bar to go do meth with some wack bitch, it made me feel real shitty. I left him a voicemail, let him know,

“Hey, it’s Monica. Understand, it’s guys like you that make me want to commit suicide. Tell that chick you're with to watch her back, and you should probably watch yours too. See a doctor. Because I have horrible chlamydia, the one with the deep smell. It feels like someone bombed my pussy with mustard gas. So yeah. Y’all can have fun with that.”

It wasn’t true. But he should have to pay for that visit, I thought.

The drugs made me less analytical, but more wild and creative with my way of expressing fury. Colorful lies. Not very mindful. At that point in my life, my mind was like a bunch of knives bound together with rubber bands. When you act out of rage, you humiliate yourself. When you create art out of rage, you embrace yourself. I feel like I chose that lesson to be my purpose. If I’m being honest though, which I guess that’s what I’m doing, telling you all my secrets, I still smoke about a thousand cigarettes a day for the buzz, because consciousness is pretty intolerable, you know?

I think at some point in my childhood my brain hired a bodyguard, sifting through all of my thoughts, keeping me from falling apart while also invalidating my struggle. I’ve been tired for a while of belittling my own emotions. I feel split into two people, like I’m barely fitting in.

As I’ve said, I position myself in the right light at work, I pose when I stand. I’m hyper aware of what and who I look like to other people. I feel like there’s a camera on me at all times, somewhere secret and out in the distance. There’s something rewarding about the attention I garner. People think I’m a cool girl, and I don’t have drugs to fuck that all up for me anymore, to send me on manic tirades. I don’t rage against the machine. I work with the patriarchy to receive advances.

I listen to what the men like and somehow relate that to what I get up to, my path. You can always rely on being interesting. Boys are intimidated by smart and turned off by batshit. There’s a balance in there somewhere. In their eyes, to my understanding, I make cool art, I’m the strong silent type, I’m a reformed bad girl who doesn’t give too much away. Has her finger on the pulse, where she sparks from.

I’ve cheated on my boyfriend twice since I met him. We met a few months ago, while two months into my sober journey. Before I met him I thought it was best I get out of town, save myself the embarrassment from my past life. Most of my old friends still did drugs, so we parted ways. I felt completely alone. But then he came along. I was in the pink cloud, high on sobriety, thought I’d choose a “smart,” “docile” boy with a smaller dick, I thought a flashy sex life wasn’t all it’s cut out to be, at the time.

His best friend Camden works with me at the coffee shop. He’s blonde including his eyebrows and facial hair, he’s built, and he dreams of being a rapper. There’s speculation that he’s bisexual—he has a very seductive energy, also hideous cystic acne on pallid veiny skin. I’d assume from drinking or steroids. He wears Hey Dudes and that disgusts me. He’s a stupid idiot. Once he told me,

“I smoke all day and eat like shit, but it doesn’t affect me. I don’t even have to work out every day, I’m just a mass magnet. The doctors say I have amazing blood work, I’m like Caitlyn Jenner… well, how he used to be, I’m a natural born athlete.”

He’s a rambler. I’d tap him on his hard ass or rub his back with sharp nails as he showed me photos of a new deer he shot. Eventually, I blew him in the back seat of his Jeep truck while listening to $uicideboy$. Crawled on top of him, rested my weight in his lap, and kissed him with his dick on my breath.

He always got high on a weed pen in the cooler at work, surrounded by gallons of milk and whipped cream prepared for later, and we’d talk about how dumb and boring our lovers were. He says I’m cooler, more fresh than his girlfriend. I tell him no one lives up to my standards. Brandon is a fucking snore, I’ll say it. He’s boring. One weird thing about him is that he likes to watch me piss in the shower, or wants me to hold his flaccid penis while he pisses, or, he will piss behind the curtain while I’m in the shower. He says he likes the vulnerability aspect. This is the riskiest he gets. The sex is normal, not painful at all, and his interests include making drinks and listening to self-help podcasts. Sure, he sits and acts like he’s absorbing what I’m saying, but he reminds me of my dad in the way he patronizes me, intellectualizes my emotions, sips from his mug of wine…

“Let’s dig deeper into this…”

“There’s always a bright side…”

“Everything happens for a reason…”

“How you feel is your choice…”

As if he’s a psychotherapist. He’s not. He calls my thoughts “fleeting” and “cascading.” Idiot. Maybe cashapp me motherfucker, maybe then I’ll feel better.

For the past three months, I haven’t been on my medication. My pharmacy and psychiatrist, who I ghosted, had a miscommunication and I just never cared to sort it out. I never bothered to ask about my diagnosis.

The other guy I cheated on Brandon with was a hot Indian maintenance man. He had a wife and kids. He goes by “the maintenance man” in my mind, I must’ve heard his name before but I don’t recall. We would make out often while no one was looking. I brought him to the cooler, too, and held his cock under his pants, finagled, while talking randomly about my plans to unwind after work. Behind black wire eyebrows and a bushy beard, a Carhartt hat, his sun-speckled face was so hopeful and sweet. I love black eyes. He got super huffy and puffy when I was showing Camden attention and fled the coffee shop scene. Sayonara, I thought.

Once, one of the new hires at my job was flirting with Camden, she was a heavy-set Christian with a cross around her neck, her fiddling with it while laughing at everything Camden said. Standing closer and closer, then leaning on the food prep table with her chin in her hands, her elbows sitting in the crumbs and memories of mayonnaise, a foot kicking cheerfully back and forth. He was feeding into it, this upset me. He showed her pictures of the dead deer, too. Oh, wow, how cool. Wow wow wow. Bitch.

I talked to her, acted nice, asked her about what she does in her free time. She said she was on a fitness journey. How she owes this process of “bettering herself” to “god.”

Every day after that I walked into work and talked about how fat I felt, and made sure she heard. It wasn’t true, I’m anything but fat. I look like Mia Goth when I love myself, and Kate Moss when I hate myself. She looked like The Penguin standing next to me. On one of these hilarious days I made sure to catch her and Camden in the break area and lead their conversation towards the beyond, afterlife, karma, “once upon a time,” you know? Lofty thoughts. I went on about how,

“I just don’t think there’s any ‘cosmic supreme being’ that’s up above magically granting blessings and curses. Nothing happens for a reason. The concept of god doesn’t sound ethical, it doesn’t make any actual sense. It’s actually quite desperate and stupid. Spiritual people are like Dumbo with his red feather. Like, stop grasping at meaning and take some accountability like the rest of us. You’re not the second coming of Jesus, you’re just experiencing suffering, cracker. Cut the narrative.”

I enjoyed how uncomfortable she looked. Drained.

I’m miserable every day I work, especially if there’s no one there to flirt with or give me attention. Every movement I make is a pain. I do not like having tasks, and I especially hate being of service to the lardos of my city. It’s genuinely sickening to me, watching them gorge on pastries—pastries as doughy as them, blubbery fat under their chin emulating a busted can of cinnamon rolls, supporting their puffy faces like a neck brace, acned from all the lactose they flood their guts with. Coming up to me at the counter, holding their hands in insecurity over their sliding tummies, wrists pinched in as though squeezed by rubber bands, arms like loaves squishing their breasts inward—man or woman.

“I would like a cookies and cream frappe, no coffee in it please.”

“What size?” I ask.

“The largest you’ve got.”

“Well of course,” I respond, “would you like whipped cream on that?”

I don’t even know why I ask. I already know the answer.

When they turn around I have to look down at my feet, catching a glimpse of their asscrack breaking out of their athleisure makes my stomach turn.

I notice two types of silhouettes in these types of people. One of a stack of doughnuts with legs, the other an upside down apple with legs—and they both seem to flaunt it, bounce back and forth between hips as they hit the world, usually with a limp, ankles gasping for air, too big for their disproportionate feet crammed into extra wide loafers. Slamming their rear down, taking a load off, catching their breath, licking their fingers of cream cheese frosting, then finishing their grown up milkshake at light speed, poking their straw around the bottom of their twenty four-ounce cup to catch any remnants of whip. Greedy greedy greedy. Horrifying. You have to understand, I don’t hate obese people, it’s just the mere fact of having to cater to them, co-opt their disgusting behavior, that highly irritates me.

I’m tired of being a different thing to everybody I meet. I’ve let go of all conscientiousness. Maybe I don’t wanna govern myself all the time and maybe that doesn’t make me a goner or a lost cause or a loose cannon. I just wanna let my hair down. I stopped going to AA meetings, stopped looking for a sponsor, dropped out of school, everyone thinks they can tell you how to be all the time. I was an eleven compared to those AA people, fuck that. Maybe I’m just fine the way I am, people don’t have to like that. I don’t care. My life is dull and frustrating and monotonous without drugs in it. Every day is drab and a duplicate of the last, I’m just seeking a thrill. That’s natural. I’m as whole as possible. Fuck blowing dandelions off the stem. I know how to be me.

Every time I’m around a man or two I’m thinking of ways to seduce them. I’m self-conscious about my facial expression, my hair, the ideas I share. I have no clue what the goal is, though. I’m not sure if I’m being mindful, but what I know for sure is, I’m definitely not being natural. I don’t want them to think that I desire them. I want them to think they have a desire for me, aroused through their own accord. It makes me depressed when I don’t win them over.

Another day comes, a day like any other. Hating opening my eyes in the morning. Hating showering. Hating my job. Sober.

I get off work. I came home and Camden and Brandon were hanging out in the kitchen. Camden’s girlfriend, Alasia, was there too. They were doing mushrooms and offered me some, said it was my choice. I thought, well, I’ve been sober for a proper amount of time. Mushrooms shouldn’t hurt anything, they probably don’t even count as a relapse. Mushrooms and tea, it sounded so sensical. Like some self-development thing, maybe I’d come to some due realizations.

Brandon was drinking a mug full of wine per usual, and I finished it while he wasn’t looking. I already broke my sobriety, might as well go all in.

I was sitting on the rug in Brandon’s room. They were smoking weed and I decided I’d take a few hits of the blunt. Camden blurted to me,

“Look at her go, she’s got it all figured out. You handling yourself okay, Monica?”

Idiot, die. I don’t reply, just stare.

I remember, at one point, I was alone. No one in the room but me. What was past and what is future overlay in the present moment, I begin to understand. I can feel my flesh wrapped around my muscle, like clothing. There was a can of nitrous gas in Brandon’s closet. I took a big gulp of the air. I felt static electricity shoot up and through my head, hit the ceiling, and drop back into my body and through my toes. I felt pressure in the back of my head and saw black nats swarming the edges of my vision. I heard my name, like a choir of whispers,

“Monica?”

I come to, through a widening tunnel, opening up towards a vision of the tapestry on the ceiling. Brandon’s gay tapestry that I hate so much. I had been knocked onto my back. I lean upwards and Brandon and Camden were on the bed, to my left. The bed set’s color was roving between sage and blue-gray. I felt my eyes flex. I put my palms to my face and pressed into my lids.

Alasia is going to walk into the room, I thought. Then, she did. Brandon is staring at me, I thought. I looked at him and he was. I focused into the rug in front of my crossed legs and saw the air multiplying. Molecules spawning from one into two into four into eight. I saw the particles of air generating. Static stacking like the pages of a book. I suspect space and time are one, it feels as though this information is a secret, and I had just pieced together the clues. Music drifted in tactile wavelengths and sounded like moans from the underworld. It made no sense. My phone flashed on at 5:55. I saw spirals of atoms sinking into the screen. There must be alternate, more complex dimensions that are processing through me, revealing themselves to me, I mean, look at the air. It’s multidimensional. I’m seeing sides of consciousness that I didn’t know were available. What dimension did I happen upon? Which page?

I start to think of my cells and how they generate at a rapid pace, how they transform under the sway of trauma, how most everything that takes place is trauma to the human body—humans crave stasis—and any amount of happening changes you, scars you, even if on a microscopic level, and I think of how my neuroplasticity in response to men has taken a perverted turn. I see now that even the smallest of thoughts build up a world that eventually becomes a mindset, micro-decisions sculpt a belief system, my own universe that I project through, and that my understanding of men is anything but neutral, it has skewed in the face of adversity.

I see men as subhuman because, the ones I’ve come across, have had a pattern of making me feel undermined and stupid and subordinate. I’m a walking chasm, an open wound, and trying my best to knock down the patriarchy, peg by peg, man by man. Take control. I’ve made it my life’s purpose. And at the end of the day, as much as I denounce manhood, I’m still putting all my energy and focus into it. I’ve tried using sex as a weapon. I’ve tried to hurt them by scaring them bad enough. I’ve tried to appease them. I’ve thought that if I loosen my screws, I’d get more in touch with some baser, more wild nature. And now I’m here, with too much hatred to hold. A walking trauma response. I’m humiliated by my existence.

Who am I to expect a man to understand my pain? They themselves are traumatized by the patriarchy. Always having a big dick contest with one another. They could never handle the level of criticism they dish out if it were splashed back onto them. Layered over all their insecurities, they’re all up in arms if you so much as suspect that they have a bit of femininity inside. They’re dramatic if you call them dramatic. The ones who do adopt femininity do it performatively, as a persuasion tactic. Meanwhile, their ideal partners are other men in actuality. They’re practically faggots, the lot of them. Flicking each other’s nipples and other weird shit. I read an essay once in school that painted it clearly: They idolize and find kinship in other men and expect sex and servitude from women.

I’ve wanted to create a shocking, spilling slit to escape from this mortal mold, act boldly in a way that says, “I’m here, I’m free, don’t fuck with me.” But now all I am is red-handed. A freak. Everyone freaks me out and that must be a reflection of my internal world. I feel as though the people around me can see my thoughts painting the way I hit the scene, and will catch me analyzing too intently.

Alasia interrupts my flight of thought and begins a sentence that her, Brandon, and Camden throw in a circle.

“I’m”

“Tripping,” Brandon said back.

“So,” Camden said next.

“Hard”

“Right”

“Now”

“Dude,” Alasia concluded the sentence.

I must be losing my mind, I thought. Am I all-knowing? Why are they playing games with me? Am I not in on some joke? All breath ceases. I got up and exited the room, slammed the door shut.

I sat on the floor in front of the door and began questioning my thoughts. When did they have time to craft a plan to make me feel excluded? Is this really happening to me? How am I touching base with the future? What has transpired, and what will continue to transpire—it all seems to happen simultaneously. Years of what my subconscious has absorbed from the lessons it’s faced, those ideas are conjoined in one great, glorious, horrible coil of data that seems to unravel in front of me and have a weight and light body of it’s own. I see my past, and I’m mortified by it, but can’t seem to separate from it fast enough. I have no plan. I want all the idiots that have ever wronged me to just die, and I want everyone I’ve ever wronged to vaporize. I’m feeling my thoughts—not thinking words. If I let the thoughts flow through me, will I see what happens next? What if what’s next is the end?

I see every event as a silver loop linked to the next loop in an infinite chainmail tapestry, the pattern slapped over my skull, deafeningly cold. Each fold influencing the next. That loop affects the other one over there, every situation and action interconnected. We wake up, we go to sleep, the seasons cycle constantly, after soaring on mania we fall short once again and hit a depressive stretch, then something comes along to get all high and obsessive for, manic about again, we wash our hands, they grow dirty, we get thirsty then have to piss—it’s all loops.

I can hear them talking about me through the wall. I swear they’re talking mess. I listen intently. It sounds like a group of a thousand people, a crowd or clan laughing at me. Camden was saying I cheated on Brandon with him, joking about it like a standup comedian, and the crowd broke with laughter, excitement to see me fall. I did cheat, but no, it couldn’t be true that he was saying it aloud, and that they were all engaged and listening. Everybody knew. They tricked me. I claw up and down my scalp, trying to rip through the chainmail, to sever myself from this timeline. I’ve been tricked. I swing the door wide.

“You all tricked me!” I yelled, “Alasia, your boyfriend is a whore, he forced himself on me, it wasn’t my choice, I didn’t have a choice! You’re all pieces of shit, making me feel crazy! I’m not crazy! I know what you’re doing!”

If this is what life is like, if I’ve cracked the code, found a higher dimension, and I still hate everything, feel so used, then I don’t wanna be here anymore, I want to return to the source from which I originate to save myself from all the humiliation I’ve ever experienced. Everything happens in a vacuum. I feel as though everyone I’ve ever known is here to make me the fool, yet none of them hear me crying out for help. Begging to be understood. It’s like I’m invisible yet the center of everyone’s universe. Like I’m on the operating table, cut open, and my insides are being broadcast live on the laptops of everyone I’ve ever encountered. I feel objectified, completely ashamed. I touch my chest to make sure I feel a beat. I don’t know where I am anymore. I’m self-destructing. Coming undone. From the most cavernous points of my being, I understand that I need to be isolated from society.

I jet to the bathroom and lock myself inside. I projectile all around and up and over the toilet. I sit myself on the toilet seat, vomit sticking to the backs of my thighs. The vomit seems to swell and slither as though alive on the tile, I hear it creep. I rested my head in my hands and slipped slowly to the ground. I hobbled on my knees over to the tub and ran a bath. I stumbled to grab my razor and slashed my thighs with it back and forth until I saw flesh irritate and rise, it looks like cottage cheese. It’s so ugly, I don’t want to look damaged. I’d rather get shot in the head then cut myself to death. It stings. Can I go back? No.

I try to remember my name but it’s lost. I don’t think my name is true to me anymore. I don’t know anyone’s true name. I don’t remember my family’s faces. I’ve lost the plot. Everything is useless, in this moment. I’m self-destructing. I’m self-destructing. I’m self-destructing. My mind floods with random artifacts and information, clues to who I am, I hear them loud and clear, spoken out to me in my own voice. My name is Monica, yes, Monica. I hate men. I paint. I was once a drug addict. I have regrets. These are the things that make me human. I can feel my eyeballs shoot back and forth in their sockets, they seem to pulsate. I bang my skull into the side of the tub because it’s all too much, readjust, Monica, readjust. I cup my hands under the water and bring it to my mouth. All slips into darkness.

~

I wake up in a new day laying in a bath full of murky pink water, strands of skin afloat, brown clumpy flecks of what I understand to be feces. I submerge myself in it once, keep my head underwater and tousle it. I don’t understand consciousness. I get out, barely dry off, and don’t drain the water. I take a moment of silence, in awe of the grotesque toilet.

I text my manager. I’m quitting my job. I think of calling Alasia and apologizing but I don’t have the guts. Brandon isn’t home, no one is. I boil a pot of water, my wet hair falls forth into it and the steam opens up my face. I slice vegetables in very conscious symmetrical sections. I push into the point of the blade until a dot of blood wells up. It’s sharp, very sharp. Hot bubbles snap around and stir in my intestines, like water bugs, wafts of strong acid double over themselves, rumble from the caverns of my guttural void, and fizz comes in sheets that reach and dissolve at the top, I can imagine it—taste the reflux on my teeth. I stare deep into the pot’s bloating tide. I have a clear, shocked mind. Whiplash. I make a stew. I make stew.

[pantherinaeee]

trust the mirror, not the cameras - megathread part 2

in r/infp i posted some screenshorts from videos, saying that i look better in screenshots than in selfies. here are the coments...

YYY

I'm gonna try this too. I believe I look absolutely horrid in selfies and pictures. But in the mirror, I love my face structure and features; but I don't know for certain what people see, so it makes me feel insecure lol.

I think it might be the lighting on your pics that makes you feel that way, because I think you look the same. But honestly you look extremely attractive and cool in all of them. And that's something I very rarely say or admit to anyone.

PANTHERINAEEE

omg, thank you so much!! 🥹😭

All the images I posted are screenshots; I haven't posted any comparison selfies, haha. But I was really touched by your compliment. 🥹

And I have an answer to your question - actually, it's a long thread. I talked more deeply about this with someone else here in the comments if you'd like to read. [part 1]

Basically, cellphone lenses cause VERY high distortion to our faces, so never trust selfies; what you see in the mirror is what matters!

To give you an idea, a lens that doesn't distort your face much would have to be 2 - 5 meters away from you. So just imagine how round (like a fish eye) your cellphone camera needs to be to frame you from such a close distance.

Moreover, cellphones have a resolution capable of processing more information than our eyes/brain. Often, you can see lines of expression in the camera that you can't see with the naked eye.

So, don't feel bad if you don't look good in photos; you are beautiful just as you see yourself in the mirror! 💕

To get a sense of this, ask someone to take a serious front-facing photo of your face with the 1x lens on your cellphone, then ask them to step back and take a photo with the 3x lens. You'll see how absurdly different it looks!

Finally, I think I look better in videos because I have natural expressions. When someone takes a photo of me, I automatically tense my facial muscles unintentionally. Our expressions and how we communicate say A LOT about our image, even influencing our features. My mom took a visagism course, and this was a major point of attention when analyzing someone's facial characteristics!

YYY

Oh, I thought the comparison photos were mixed in lol. I was looking at them and thinking, "hmm... yeah I don't see a difference." [striked to focus on the central subject] You're welcome on the compliment. I almost never compliment strangers. Not to be weird, but I truly rarely see an actual beautiful woman in general out in public or even on social media lol. And I would see a lot when I'm out in public. Most women, I don't really see any "highlighting" features about them, and dont see anything that draws my attention(not saying their ugly). If at most, only maybe 1 or 2 max highting features, but thats rare. But I see about 5 highlighting features on you. Your thick eyebrows, your eyes, high cheek bones, your nose shape, and lips. Just, wow. Then also your hair color and style looks awesome. And youre also an INFP personality type just the same as the most interestesting celebrities; Johnny Depp, Robert Smith(The Cure), Morrissey, Heath Ledger, Ian Curtis(Joy Division), Kurt Cobain, Jim Morrison, John Lennon, Edger Allen Poe, Björk, etc. Like really, who's cooler than these INFP celebrites? Lol We have the coolest personality type. So you have both the looks AND the personality. You look like you were crafted by Tim Burton. If you have any insecurities about your looks would be the same if like Ian Somerhalder/Damon Salvatore from The Vampires Diaries Season 1 had insecurities about his appearance and style. I would truly be surprised if you were in slightest bit insecure about your appearance.

Ok. Also, Thank you for the compliment. It really did make me feel better and in a way, made me feel a little validated haha.

It was a lot of very interesting information you've shared. My knowledge on photos and the drastic effects in has if not taken from the right distance and lens was almost nonexistent. I thought all cameras were just bad and avoided them haha. But this definitely sheds new light and aspires me more to start post myself on social media. For the longest time, I almost never posted a picture of myself on any social media at all (maybe only twice) because of how insecure I felt in photos. Of course I would never tell anyone my insecurities lol, but when I posted my photo online somewhere I would get compliments and women would be a lot nicer to me, and that would confuse me severely and made me question their motives haha.

I think I know what you mean about the facial expressions and how even tensing the muscles a little can alter a person's appearance. There was this colleague I used to see regularly. I noticed this person with an extremely blank relaxed facial expression would always stare directly at me and "follow" when I would walk by in the vicinity. This went on for months and this person's face was always the same impassive expression. I thought it would be funny to walk up to this person with the same expression and just tell a dry joke in a bored tone and see if I can make them laugh lol. I saw them one day, and I walkled directly towards them with the same facial expression and they were just staring at me all bored walking up to them. I told my joke and we would stare in each other's eyes with a blank relaxed expression and once they understood the joke I told; I saw their eyes, face, and neck area tense up a little for a second before turning their head to audibly laugh quietly and hide their face. But in that one second moment, their face looked drastically different. It was at that time I learned how "telling" micro facial expressions can be. And I've been getting okay at reading them haha.

But thank you very much for all of the information you've shared. I'm now interested in experiementing with camera lens and distance. I feel I might even be open to posting myself online now. I might even pick up photography.

PANTHERINAEEE

(...) [removed to focus on the central subject]

About the lenses, it’s not just a matter of distance. I mentioned this because cell phone lenses are 24mm (the iPhone 15 Pro Max has lenses of 24mm, 28mm, and 35mm) and the lenses that cause the least distortion range from 50-80mm, with 80mm being the most accurate. As these lenses have a smaller field of view, meaning they zoom in on the image, to take a portrait, you need to stand far from the camera.

Despite this, even the 24mm lens takes better photos when we move away from the camera! And we can also take photos with the 35mm lens. The 35mm lens makes our faces look rounder haha, but I think it’s much better than the 24mm.

Message me in the DM, and I’ll send you comparisons!

SHORT YOUTUBE VIDEO

LONG YOUTUBE VIDEO

[thegeminisage]

ok, i'm gonna try this stupid sand seal plushie minigame again. now that the game has been out awhile there are video guides! one mad lad used recall which is SUCH a brilliant idea

I DID IT......wow recall really was the hack

wah whenever i catch sight of the light dragon....my heart..............

how tf u supposed to get in this lil monster tower...

YOOO this shrine where you have to melt ice blocks to get in...thats neat dude

also this lil construct guy who waited 10k years to tell me 😭

this well is DARK which is how i found out the mirror of twilight fabric actually glows! that's so cool!!!

shrine IN the well. absolutely sick

oooh, i stumbled on a yiga hideout...my third one!

one left in the gerudo area now

noooo my bike despawned...rip

i finally broke the bike. it fell down mount drena lol i think that's very fair

DINRAAL!!! girl i need your claw...ugh but she's too far away >:(

you know what, fuck it. i got some charges. i'm gonna go for it with the bike

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I'M LITERALLY RIDING DINRAAL!

i got my HEAT ARMOR............i got my BIKE

wow. i'm gonna stay up here forever. this is great

like i knew you could ride them unlike in botw. that got spoiled for me. but to actually do it...

heh heh heh i almost fell off taking a selfie. nvm about my totk reservations this is WAY better than botw this rules

SNAGGED myself a claw! HELL yes! (i don't want to go back to the spring of power)

oh sick i think she's going down into the chasms..........girl bye

ugh this reminds me i am sooo behind on pics & vids i need to post...

okay. my fire armor still sucks but i'm gonna try that fucking gleeok fight again. i wanna kill one so so so bad and there was just a blood moon so it'll be awhile before it comes back if i get it...i can explore lake hylia...

so the good news is. i have 200 arrows. the bad news is. even with a full set it's STILL. DAMAGING ME. WITH HEAT!!!

NOOOOOOOO i got it down to a SLIVER of health and i think it's about to do the attack that killed me before!!!!!!!!!!! IM SCARED

YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! oh my god you can fly up on the fireballs and i GOT IT WITH ONE FINAL SHOT...........oh my god finally FINALLY 110 hours into the game i have killed the hylia bridge gleeok

cut down a tree i needed to climb for a korok seed. BUT, i used a stake to put the tree back in the ground. i love this game!!!

lol i found blood moon guy again. dude........

i've worked my way around to the original zonai ruins! i remember looking at them from a nearby mountain or maybe sheikah tower in botw and thinking how cool they seemed...i had to fly over a bunch of guardians to make it, lol

i bet this goddess statue will ask after the mother statue too. which is a huge bummer bc i need to trade in my shrines for hearts lol

FAROSH CANONICAL SHE/HER PRONOUNS HELL YEAH GIRL

man look ok this is what i mean about totk. there used to be like a ton of enemies here and now theres Nothing. i cant believe theyre not doing Anything with theeee original zonai ruins. i see chests here i can't get so maybe there's at least a quest later? :/

killed this black hinox so fast the music didnt even have time to start >:) i've only done that with red ones prior to this

SUPER cool "open ceiling" cave between cora lake and lake hylia. looks like something out of ffxi (honorific) lol. i bet it's so pretty at night

338 korok seeds! i found almost 100 seeds today lol. im turning them in and going to bed

AGH I WAS SO CLOSE....two seeds away from what i think was my last upgrade!! or maybe there's one more row of shields.

and of course 562 seeds to go. at least i'm almost halfway...

[seacottons]

—ateez as boyfriends [ domestic au ]

notes: swearing. suggestive dialogue. fluff. i blame a certain someone for this, not gonna say who. @kireiwoo

— hongjoong

very caring and attentive towards you

so much so, that even his friends have complained how it isn't fair he doesn't scold you like the way he does to them

he enjoys many activities with you, such as

helping him dye his hair an ungodly color every other month

he'll insist you try experimenting with your own tresses

but you only have the courage to dye the very ends of your strands

"i don't think i can pull off that color as well as you do," you'd say.

"that's a load of bull. you'll suit every hair color."

you'll just roll your eyes playfully at his biased behavior.

other activities include getting tiny matching tattoos together.

the tiny flower and butterfly on your wrists was most likely your favorite due to its simplicity in design and the meaning behind it as well.

spontaneous dates are his favorite.

behind closed doors, he loves to constantly shower you with pecks and smooches.

often gets teased by his friends from how whipped he is for you.

randomly books vacations for you two to relax and unwind every so often.

although he enjoys it, he is a big, tired baby when it comes to traveling

always wanting to lean his head against your shoulder

or cuddling you close for warmth due to the airport's air conditioners blasting frigid air.

has written many songs about you

and when he's finally ready, he'll not only ask you to listen to them, but to also spend the rest of your life with him and share his last name as well.

— seonghwa

constant pet names

"darling."

"the sun to my stars."

"the moon to my sun."

"love of my life."

you like to call him mars, mostly.

but he revels when you call him 'twinkle eyes' for some reason.

has a habit of pulling you into his lap.

you'll subconsciously play with the strands of his hair as he does so, him being too distracted bickering with his friends to realize sometimes.

will always give you pleading looks whenever wooyoung or san tease him.

sometimes, you walk in to find wooyoung settling onto your boyfriend's back while he greedily devours the bowl of popcorn entirely by himself.

or other times when both wooyoung and san constrict his limbs with their arms whenever you're near.

"y/n can't save you now, so cut the whining."

you'll only sigh and shake your head in amusement.

"what are you guys doing to my poor boyfriend?"

"he changed the movie we were watching without our permission!"

"because i have no damn clue what's going on, and harry potter is too confusing!"

coffee dates.

loves to sleep with you tucked against his chest.

always has an arm draped around your frame.

butterfly kisses on your neck.

soft touches against the small of your back and waist.

his favorite pastime with you would be stargazing.

"baby, look. it's me, mars-io," he'd say whilst pointing up to the large, bright star in the night sky.

when it's too cloudy outside, or when the weather isn't forgiving, he'll turn on the indoor star projector he bought so the two of you can stargaze in the comfort of your own bed.

— yunho

is the epitome of romantic.

is constantly smothering you in love and affection.

always has heart eyes and admiration in his eyes at whatever small task you do or say.

rant about an ancient dynasty?

heart eyes.

bombard him with useless information about a certain abandoned island.

heart eyes.

gush about the new cute bakery that recently opened up?

heart eyes.

if you had a money jar for every time he says 'i love you', you'd have enough money to buy a plane ticket or two.

always willing to drop everything to help you with whatever it is you need.

will wake up in the middle of the night when you text him to ask if he's awake or not.

willingly stays up to keep you company.

but sometimes, when he's too tired, he'll knock out accidentally and profusely apologize to you in the morning.

very supportive of your life choices.

hates seeing you cry because it makes him want to bawl his eyes out as well.

his hugs are bone-crushing.

but he is a gentle giant nonetheless.

likes to attempt to bake pastries with you.

half of the time, the goods either turn out undercooked or burnt.

"they have love in them, that's all that matters."

will always insist that you can rant to him about anything and everything.

you've never felt so valued in your life before meeting him.

is the most understanding human being you've ever gotten the pleasure of knowing.

"i wish we were vampires," he says one day.

you give him an amused look, lips outstretched into a smile, "why, silly?"

"so we can spend an eternity together."

— yeosang

his heart flutters when you notice the smallest things he does.

it makes him feel appreciated and acknowledged.

like when he changes up his hairstyle or earrings.

or when he wears a new sweater.

a big, big softie when it comes to you.

can and will want to spend all day in your arms on his days off.

quick witted and has a knack for noticing the tiniest detail.

very shy and awkward at first.

but when he gets more comfortable as time passes on, you won't be safe from his snarky little comments anymore.

will constantly bring up the thing you said or did months ago to prove a point.

"oh, you like this flavor? three months ago you told me it tasted like vomit."

"remember that time you woke up in a rush to get to work thinking you were late, only for me to drag you back inside because it was three in the fucking morning?"

you stop mid-chew and peer up from your plate of rice.

"your point, yeosang?"

"oh, nothing this time. i just wanted to tease you."

is the type to have a mid-life crisis when you can't decide on a restaurant.

"but i don't want to eat at the chicken place again," you'll whine.

"it's been thirty minutes, and you still haven't decided what you want!"

"you're rushing me!"

"y/n! just pick!"

loves to cuddle with you, especially in the colder months.

wraps a blanket around your frame and tugs you in closer against his chest.

pretends not to understand your jokes just to spite and tease you.

loves when you cling onto him.

his favorite pastime with you would be just walking around together at night and trying out different types of street food.

or even visiting any of the local beaches for a relaxing walk together.

— san

persistently keen about whenever you feel upset or down.

he reads you better than any open book.

sometimes, it scares you, but you appreciate how he's always so eagle-eyed about your behavior.

loves to hug your head.

you allow wooyoung to crash some of your dates with san sometimes.

other times, san will whine and tell him to go find his own date.

"if y/n accepted you as a boyfriend, then you should've disclosed that i'm part of the deal as well. buy one get one free."

"as what exactly?"

"the hot, clingy best friend."

will take numerous duck-faced selfies of himself because you think they're cute.

often times, he'll ask you to mirror his expression, only for him to press his lips against yours a second before his phone snaps the picture.

likes when you kiss his dimple.

"y/n! it looks like a crater from the amount of times you've kissed it."

he likes to tease you.

a lot.

touchy.

very touchy.

always has an arm around you.

rests his chin against your shoulders.

playfully smacks your rear when you're sassy with him.

or leans in to hold your jaw whilst whispering teasing words into your ear that has you becoming docile and bothered in mere seconds.

has you wrapped around his finger as much as you have him wrapped around your own.

likes to have weekly picnics with you at the park and admires all the dogs running about.

"i should bring byeol next week. maybe she'll like to play fetch too."

"i don't think that's a good idea.."

you often find him fast asleep holding onto a plushie for dear life whenever you're away.

you'll pull it away from his arms, causing him to stir awake groggily.

he'll stare in confusion as you throw the plushie aside, before pulling you in tighter as you wriggle into his arms.

"you're softer than shiber," he'll mumble sleepily against the crown of your head.

— mingi

mingi is sometimes self-conscious around the public eye and others, but when it comes to you, those layers of fear and insecurity get stripped away instantly.

doesn't mind being vulnerable with you.

he craves affection, adores it even, but is insecure about not being able to return it well enough for his liking.

likes when you give him attention.

easily gets jealous when someone else grabs your interest.

reassuring him 24/7.

"yes, mingi. you're the love of my life."

kissing his pouting lips for good measure.

the smallest of gestures has him a blushing mess.

even holding hands in public.

when he's not being a sentimental sap, he'll like teasing you lovingly.

"wow, you have this many photos of me in your phone?"

you'll scrutinize him in confusion.

"are you that obsessed with me, y/n?"

"mingi! you told me to take half of those photos of you!"

"oh, right. i forgot."

a silence weighs down onto the two of you.

"but would you have taken them if i never asked you to?"

constantly laughs about the things you say, although you don't think you're that funny.

always seeks your approval subconsciously.

will always shield you from the rain, playfully yelling at the droplets sometimes.

"you can't make y/n wet! only i can!"

"mingi! we are in public!"

wanted to go strawberry picking because he saw a celebrity try it out on instagram live.

accidentally steps on many berries though.

"it's okay, they'll just make another plant. i did them a favor."

brags about you like no tomorrow.

even for the tiniest, minuscule thing.

"oh, i've already tried the brand of ice cream. y/n always buys that for me."

"i don't need to pay all this money for a measly slice of cake. y/n's cakes are much better."

"no, wooyoung. i'm not jealous of your new shoes." he'll lightly pinch the boy's side, "y/n and i have already bought ourselves matching pairs."

"you two are so fucking cheesy, it hurts."

when he's not bragging about you, he's boasting about himself.

but if that's what helps him raise his confidence levels up, you'll gladly sit down hours on end listening to how he has more 'swag' and 'charisma' than all of his older friends combined.

— wooyoung

teases you like his life depends on it.

says you can't get enough of him, when in reality it's the other way around.

but you let him believe whatever he wants.

but deep down he just really gets satisfied with himself if he raises your mood and makes you smile.

especially when you're not having a great day.

uses way too many emojis when texting you.

"wooyoung, why am i saved as as 'clingy bug' on your contacts?"

he'll squawk indignantly and laugh awkwardly for a second.

"who told you this lie!?"

"seonghwa?"

always wants to show off your love in front of his friends.

"no, i don't want my early birthday gift now. wait until the others show up, and do it front of them."

"but why?"

"so everyone can see how much you love me. can you also cry for good measure?"

"absolutely not."

he enjoys the dates you have in his apartment the most.

the ones where he cooks for you and asks for your help, only for him to pester you about over-seasoning or undersalting something.

"okay, fine! we'll just order take out if it tastes that bad," you pout, flinging a small piece of onion on his face.

his head instantly snaps back to eye you judgingly, fist gripping the poor spatula.

"over my dead body."

"so, y/n. how does my plating look?"

"it's beautiful, wooyoung. you've outdone y-"

"what else is beautiful?" he demands, face leaning over the table to give you a knowing grin.

you shove a piece of meat and rice into his mouth, shrugging nonchalantly.

"me."

he deflates at your answer, spluttering pieces of rice onto your face.

"jung wooyoung, you slob!"

— jongho

is the type of boyfriend to stop you in the middle of the road to tie your shoe for you.

very charming and goofy in his own way.

takes pride in himself and his abilities to cater to your every whim and need.

even when you don't ask for his help.

aggressively opens jars for you when you struggle to pry them open.

"no one messes with my y/n."

"you're fussing at a jar of pickled radish, baby."

the type to cling close to you in public in fear of any of the bicyclists or pedestrians bumping into you and harming you in any way.

sometimes acts like you're made of glass.

while it's endearing occasionally, it is a bit suffocating at other times.

doesn't believe you when you say you're tough and don't need protection.

very selfless and willing to help you with anything you need.

never one to shy away from social gatherings with his friends, always pulling you along with him despite you being shy and clingy most of the night.

also a big tease.

when you help him hold down his legs for sit ups, he asks for a smooch.

pulls away from you when you try to kiss him.

and will laugh at your pouting face as he urges you to try once more.

"stop moving, i just want to kiss you!"

after numerous tries, he finally allows you ( you truly think you over-powered him though ) to kiss his cheeks or lips.

he then proceeds to squawk loudly in retaliation and playful disgust.

although he loves teasing you, when the game is flipped the other way, he'll be a shy mess of embarrassment.

"i don't mumble your name in my sleep."

"you always do, silly."

tucked underneath his macho exterior, you know he's prone to criticism and takes it to heart much more than he likes to show and admit.

so, whenever you get the chance, you always fulfill his need to be appreciated, loved, and taken care of.

is utterly and extremely protective of you.

"who just whistled at you?" he grumbles, "i'll break their jaw like an apple, you know i will."

[littlebratao3]

blinding lights - j.m.

cw: dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, bondage, makeshift gags, rough sex, spanking, use of safeword, petnames, mentions of aftercare

word count: 2.8k

details: got three random prompts (in a car, gags, and dry humping/clothed sex) from a prompt list that i can no longer find bc i started this fic like, years ago so. yeah. this is what resulted :)

please let me know what you think, comments are always appreciated <3

“Wow.” 

The look on Joe’s face is priceless as your giggle sounds, “You like?” He shakes his head in disbelief as he comes up to take your hand and twirl you around, giving you more than a few once-overs.

“Understatement. You look stunning, love, absolutely stunning.” His smile is genuine, the look in his eyes is soft, and his touch on your waist is so tender that you almost forget to breathe. 

Red carpets and award shows weren’t your favorite thing, but this-dressing up and receiving nothing but praise from Joe about how good you looked made it all more than bearable. 

In front of the cameras, his arm is an anchor snug against your waist, smile confident and sure. 

And it was always even more fun after-coming home, stripping each other of suits and dresses and ties and fucking til the early hours of the morning. 

“Trust me, Joey. This,” you gesture towards your floor length dress, “is nothing compared to what I’m wearing underneath it.” 

Time slows down just a little as his eyes widen and darken simultaneously, his grip on your hips less tender and quickly turning desirous. 

Your hands grab at his wrists as you feel him begin to bunch your dress up. “Nope, sorry babe. You don’t get to see it until our own after party after the after party.” 

A growl sounds deep in his chest and his kiss is all teeth and tongue as he all but yanks your body closer into his. It takes every ounce of strength in you to pull away, the both of you breathless. 

He watches you like prey while you fix your dress, and smooth out his dress shirt, straightening his tie before smiling shakily-ignoring the extremely loud telltale signs of your arousal. 

“Let’s go, yeah? We don’t want to be late.”

The night drags on slowly and quickly at the same time, and with every semi quiet moment when Joe’s eyes meet yours-your pussy clenches needily and Joe’s cock twitches in his pants. 

Your panties dampen significantly each time you catch the look in his eye, and it only gets stronger as the night goes on and the inevitable draws closer and closer. His smile may be easy going to onlookers, but his eyes give way to every sinful thing he’s imagining. 

You smile, laugh, engage in conversation, and a little bit of drinking but the anticipation of how the night will end is slowly eating at you. Your mind flashes back to the initial look on Joe’s face when he first saw you, then the largely detectable shift in his eyes at your mentioning of what lies underneath. 

Imagining the dark and insatiable looks he’ll give you once it’s revealed is enough for you to push up and away from the table-a little more forcefully than you intended, drawing more than a few eyes over to you. 

“Sorry,” your smile is tight, unconvincing, “I’m just going to run to the ladies room. Nature calls!” 

You rush to the bathroom which is across the expansive room that’s currently filled with a-listers and celebrities laughing and drinking and celebrating. 

Slinking through them is easy, and as soon as your hand can reach the door to the bathroom, you’re pushing it open and letting it close behind you. Your back rests against the wall as you release a long and heavy sigh. 

The dulled noise of the party is more than comforting and the tension in your shoulders loosens slowly. 

You never realize how much being around crowds like that suffocates you until you get a moment to yourself. Shutting yourself into a stall, you carefully pull up your skirt, the thigh high sheer stockings covering your legs that connect to a garter belt, surrounding a brand new pair of cheeky black lace panties-the small seat of it currently damp with your arousal. 

While holding up the lengthy part of your dress in one hand, your other reaches for some tissue, snatching more than a few sheets off the roll. One stiletto heel balances on the marble floor, the other perched up on the toilet seat. 

A few quick wipes to your upper inner thighs and they’re no longer slipping as they rub against one another. You can do this, you think, taking a few deep breaths, it's only just what-maybe an hour more and then you get to go home. 

It’s honestly very doubtful that either of you would be able to make it that far. After flushing the toilet and fixing your dress, you exit the stall and clean your hands while you take a little more than a quick glance at yourself in the mirror.

Taking your phone out, you snap a few shameless selfies-deciding that the lighting was too good to go to waste-and then a few turn into several until you’re satisfied. You keep only two-out of ten-and save a silly one to send to Joe. 

As your thumb hovers over the send arrow, a wicked idea pops into your brain. Clicking the ’x’ on the photo you were planning to send to Joe, you reopen the camera app and head back into the stall. 

With your foot propped up on the toilet seat and dress hiked up and resting in your arm again, you angle your phone just right and snap a photo. 

The laugh that leaves you is almost sinister as you admire the picture. It perfectly showcases your open legs adorned with your garter belt and stockings-you don’t need to think twice as you send it to him. 

Once again, you fix yourself before exiting the restroom with renewed energy.

 The amount of time you take to make your way back over to the group is generous, loving the feeling of adrenaline pumping through your blood-strengthened by the loud music playing. 

Before they’re even in your line of sight, you feel a strong hand grip your wrist and you’re yanked back into a familiar body. 

His voice in your ear is deep and his words drip with irritation and lust as he whispers, “What do you think you’re doing?”

His grip has drifted from your wrist to your waist and it stays as you turn around, smiling sweetly, “Just having a little fun, Joey.” 

His stare is enough to make you squirm, palms sweating as that look entered his eyes-the one that told you he wanted to eat you alive. 

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, baby.” You were almost convinced that he could feel your heart pounding in your chest with how close he had you pressed up against him. 

Neither of you are aware of anything happening around you, too busy being wrapped up in each other, eyes blaring and gaze unwavering as you breathe heavily, “What if I want to play?” 

And you’re not entirely sure yourself-too caught up in the moment and in his eyes, his touch, and his lips that bite yours more than they kiss. 

Your desire pools in the pit of your stomach and Joe chases your lips as you pull away. You couldn’t wait anymore and you could tell Joe felt the same with impatience rolling off of him in waves-feeling it in the way he held you and kissed you. He needed to have you now. 

“So… what’re you waiting for? Take me home, Daddy.” 

If you hadn’t been surrounded by hundreds of people and more cameras than you could count, you’re positive he would have attempted to throw you over his shoulder and haul you out of the room. 

Instead he settled for his hand gripping yours strongly as he guides the both of you through the room, dodging groups of people here and there until you reach a hidden exit. 

The cool air of the night bites your skin and things are a little less hazy and a little less suffocated with your arousal-until Joe is suddenly moving you into the backseat of his car and leaning into you after slamming the door shut. 

The haze returns as his lips come back to yours as he groans into your mouth, his tongue rolling against yours with such a fucking tease. 

“Please Joey, I need you.” 

He chuckles darkly, lips meeting yours for another bruising kiss. All he’s done is kiss you and yet you find it hard to breathe as you sit up when he leans back off of you, yanking his tie off his neck with a feral look in his eyes. 

“Oh, you’ll have me, don’t worry about that. You’ve done enough teasing tonight, kitten.” He shoves a hand between your legs, cupping your heat in his hand. 

It’s Daddy’s turn. 

“Fucking drenched,” he mutters and your legs spread open wider as a silent plea for more, but he chuckles as he removes his hand and slaps your clothed pussy, his smile breathtakingly sinister as you yelp. 

“Flip over and put your hands behind your back. Now.”

His tone leaves no room for argument so you turn around, your dress twisting with you and your cheek squishing against the seat as you put your hands behind your back. 

A whine leaves you as you feel him slip his tie around your wrists, double wrapping and tying them together. His fingers trace your stocking covered calf as he rucks your dress up, letting it pool over your hips.

Daddy’s baby is looking so fucking beautiful. 

Snapping the strap of your garter belt against your skin, a gasp tears sharply from you as he rips your panties open, leaving the material halfway hanging off of you. “Joe!” you whined. 

“Quiet, I’ll buy you another fucking pair.” 

You simmered silently in your anger while he admired your rear end. Prettiest little ass, he had muttered before decorating the skin, his hand landing across your cheeks three times in quick succession. 

An unpermitted squeal had left you at the unexpected pain that came and went, and it didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Didn’t I say to be quiet, kitten?” He growled lowly, his voice coming closer to your ear, making you whimper. 

“I’m sorry Joey, I’ll be quiet. I promise.” 

“Oh, I know you will.”

His next words have you tensing slightly, “Open your mouth.” You know better than to question him so, opening your mouth-albeit hesitantly-a whiny gasp is muffled when he stuffs part of your dress into your mouth. 

His smile is dark as he looks at you approvingly. “There we go, that should help you out with that problem.” 

His hands are anything but gentle as they grab at your ass, squeezing the flesh while he asks, “What do you say?” 

You blink wetly at him from the corner of your eye as you try to speak around the material in your mouth-knowing exactly what he was expecting-, “Thank you, Daddy.” 

You can tell he’s pleased with your response even though he continues doling more spanks out on your ass. Your skin jumps with every resounding crack of his open palm against you, and the simmering pain adds to your arousal.

“Look so good, kitten. Good enough to eat.” You whimper at his words and push back desperately, trying to meet his tongue that was nowhere near your cunt, and cry out when he tuts disapprovingly, “Nope, none of that. You’ve done all the teasing tonight. Have you forgotten it's Daddy’s turn now?” 

You cry out into your dress when you feel the thick head of his cock sliding up and down your cunt, being coated generously in your arousal. You moan and tears leak from your eyes as your dress soaks up the please that falls from your lips. You can feel his cock throbbing against your clit, hot and hard as he moans prettily. 

“What, you want something? You want my cock? Then fucking beg for it.” His cock rubs against you more harshly as muffled cries of please and Daddy and fuck me leave your mouth in earnest. 

It’s all basically incoherent and Joe doesn’t tell you if your groveling was good enough or not as he’s suddenly plunging deep inside of you. 

You sob from the immediate combined feelings of delicious pain, stimulation of your g-spot and the feeling of his cock pulsating in you as he sets a blinding pace, all but pounding you into the car seat. The material of your dress is damp in your mouth as you scream, his hips snapping furiously against your ass as he fucks you. 

“This what you’d been wanting, yeah? Wanted to get me all riled up so I’d drag you out to the car just so you could have my cock?”

Trying to squirm away from the onslaught of his dick in your cunt is futile because you don’t get very far and Joe is immediately pulling you back on to him by the tie around your wrists. 

“No, you wanted my cock kitten, so take it.” 

And you do. Your pussy clenches around him at his words, whines and sobs muffled by the thick material in your mouth as Joe fucks you so good you see stars behind your eyes. 

Every thrust of his hips drives his cock deep into your pussy, the spot inside of you that makes you shake and tremble deliciously grinded into. 

Your orgasm hits you, it’s sudden and so fucking good that you’re reduced to nothing but a whiny litany of DaddyDaddyDaddy and pleasepleaseplease. 

Your ass stings as Joe pounds your pussy even as you convulse and tremble around him, sobbing incoherently as the fire in your abdomen blazes and your pussy throbs as your body comes alive when he reaches around your hip and under your dress, finding your clit and rubbing it. 

“Go ahead and come again. Show me how much you love it when I put your little bratty ass in its place.”

Your body listens to him before you do, trembling from head to toe as you squirt on his cock, no longer holding on to any control over yourself; that was long gone.

Joe’s hips stutter against yours, his breathing heavy as his grip on the necktie around your wrists tightens as he pulls you back on him once more. His cock throbs and swells before he comes deep inside you, thick and hot ropes of cum painting the walls of your pussy.

You whine as he slowly pulls out of you, and slowly pulls you up by your hair, silently guiding you to turn around. He yanks the saliva-sodden material from your mouth, thumbs rubbing your lips as he leans in and kisses you, tongue immediately searching yours out.

Your eyes are glossy, and he thinks to himself, good girl, until he looks down at himself, all disheveled and messy. And you can feel his cum slowly dribbling out of your well-fucked cunt beneath the skirt of your dress.

“Would you look at that? Look at the mess you made kitten, you ruined my best pants.” 

Deep down, you know he’s not genuinely upset but you’re too deep in your head to be anything but remorseful as he’s still regarding you with that stern tone, so you pout and your eyes water a bit as he looks at you disapprovingly. “I-I’m sorry, Daddy.” 

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, baby. Clean it up.”

Your wrists are still tied behind your back as you sniffle and lean forward, your tongue coming out to lap up the cum-his and yours combined-from his crotch. His dick twitches in front of your face, slowly hardening again as he watches you, eyes dark and brows knitted together.

When you’re done he’s yanking you up by your hair so he can pull your lips to his, biting and sucking on them as he tastes the both of you on your tongue. 

It makes your thighs quiver underneath you and your arms are near cramping when he pulls away, giving you a chance to breathe. 

You’re still huffing as you squeak out red, and gone is harsh dominant Joe, quickly replaced with soft eyes and soft touches as he starts to ask what’s wrong. 

You beat him to the punch before the words begin to leave his mouth as you speak up, “I’m sorry, my arms are cramping. Please untie me?” 

He’s already loosening and freeing your wrists from behind your back before you even finish asking, and his voice rolls through you as he meets your eyes. 

“There’s no need to apologize, at all. I’m the one who’s sorry, ducky.” He rubs your wrists with his thumbs before taking hold of your face, leaving kisses along both of your cheeks, your nose, forehead, chin and then your lips. He doesn’t even need to say it because you can feel it. You feel it in every moment when he kisses you-his love, his affection, his care, for you. “Such a good girl, my good girl.” 

Your head is still feeling floaty and his words make you feel all warm inside as the praise sits deep within you. 

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Bath?” 

“Yeah, of course I’ll run you a bath, kitten.”

[illuminiscentboba]

[𝟒:𝟓𝟐 𝐩𝐦] ; smile again

"This is dumb," you lowered the sunglasses with lenses in the shape of moon crescents. Though while you said it, you had trouble holding in your laughter.

"So? It's much better than staying home all day." He wasn't wrong. With how busy you were you didn't even have time to think about yourself, much less fun things.

Though you didn't expect semi eita to drive all the way to your house and try to serenade you until you opened the door.

He’d done that many times throughout your friendship, starting from that time Tendou dared him to yell your name when you guys were teens and he’d tried out a lot of different silly methods since then.

Him and his nonsense, a crooked smile made its way onto your face.

"But how did you know I was home all day?" He raised a judging brow at you, lowering his ridiculous swirl lensed sunglasses for further emphasis.

"Don't you think I listen to you when you tell me things? You said you weren't feeling well and it's my occupation to be your personal cheer-upper to drag you outside every now and then."

You didn't know whether to be touched or cringe but maybe you needed the fresh air. Or so Semi says.

He picked up a bright green feathery boa from the rack on the side, draping it around his neck. "How do I look? Oh, we should match!"

He laced an equally bright yellow one around you and only made you smile more as you watched him pose in front of the mirror, taking a selfie with you for 'the memories'.

"Do you two need help over here?" A worker approached you two and semi flinched. "Oh, no. We were just looking at the items...though I think I'm going to purchase these."

Purchase what? Was he talking about the sunglasses and boas? Wait...

"Uhm, semi?! Why are we buying these?" He raked a hand through his messy ash blonde hair, perking up as an idea crossed his mind. "for...my performance, actually why don't we drop by my studio?"

And that was all the information he was willing to provide as you followed him out, now with more than one boa in hand.

The more you probed the wider his smile grew. Finally, you had arrived at his studio, the studio that was surprisingly...empty. "Where is everyone?"

"Oh, we had a day off because of some holiday. Though between me and you, I think my boss just wanted the day to himself." He smiled, taking your hand in his larger, calloused one.

He led you down a winding hall that opened toward a wide area with a stage, dark curtains along the side.

“Are we allowed to be here?" You watched as he made his way to what seemed to be a check out form on the desk by the door.

"Yeah, we usually make appointments so that things are divided fairly but it looks like it's just me and you today." He held up the blank sheet, and even though he held it in front of his face you could tell he was still smiling.

"Great." you smiled, bringing a folding chair towards the middle of the gym to watch him. As you unfolded it, he brought out two guitars.

"What are you doing over there, come on stage!" He called from across the room, holding apart the curtain so that you could head up the steps.

"What?"

"Did you think I was doing a solo show for you?" He teased as you raised a brow, having thought that exactly.

"We can do that another day, let me turn on the speakers." He shut the door off to the side that you guys came from, scrolling through the music options on his phone as you surveyed the guitar.

"Semi, I literally can't play guitar."

"Just because you aren't good at it doesn't mean you shouldn't-"

You clumsily strum the guitar, wincing at the loud sound. "On second thought maybe we should get you a different instrument."

"Wow, rude." He laughed, instead placing the guitar along the table instead of away. "I'll teach you how to play after our performance."

He handed you a mic and you took it, following him up the stage stairs. You didn't know what song to expect but the one that filled the private gymnasium made your eyes widen as you whirled around to look at Semi who grinned, gauging your reaction with amusement.

And so on that huge stage, you guys stayed there longer than expected, draped in your feather boas and dumb sunglasses laughing as you two messed up the lyrics, feeling like you were in your teens all over again.

Semi imitated the girl singer while you started to repeat his lines like a backup singer, making up your own lyrics as it continued.

He was beaming as he watched you, snorting when you tripped as you sauntered across the stage with your mic, just so happy to see you smile so much and happy that you guys were still as attached to the song all of those years.

You two then turned on a popular rock song from when you were younger and headbanged until your glasses flew off and hit him in the face.

"Are...you alright?" You could barely get out your words through your laughter, as he waved away the concern, trying to stop laughing himself.

“Yeah, we definitely need to hold more...performances together."

"Maybe next time I'll know how to play the guitar."

"I'm a diligent teacher and so there will be no slacking off." You grinned at him. You loved the idea of semi teaching you guitar. Maybe this day was really what you needed.

“I won't, maybe my hands will become just as calloused as yours. and I'll jump in the crowd and they'll carry me away like at concerts."

Semi grinned, his brown eyes glittering with amusement. "you mean crowd surfing? that's kind of bold for having done only one performance."

"Okay, maybe not right away." You two laugh as he starts up another song, another great one from your childhood. It's amazing that someone can change the direction of your day and mood just by being themselves.

A thank you almost slips past your lips but you already know what he's going to say, how he'll just smile and say it was nothing.

You still say it. "Thanks, semi."

He blinked before his expression softened and he reached to ruffle your already messy hair from headbanging.

"Jeez, y/n. I'll always be there on your dull and terrible days. Though maybe call me next time so I won't have to wake up your street with my guitar or throw rocks at your window?"

Now it was your turn to blink at him, not expecting him to go off and reassure you at the same time. You jokingly elbowed him for the trouble he's caused on previous occasions to reach you sometimes. Though you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Whatever you say, semisemi. Maybe try a mega horn next time, I'm starting to get bored of your love songs."

"Shut up, I know you love them. Should I try rapping that song from the line king?" You're already groaning as he clears his throat, ruining the movie for you. Soon enough, you guys start clean up before making your way to his car to eat out.

After all, you guys were starving after that amazing performance.

a/n: PLATONIC FICS WYA- tho lmao, this is kind of self indulgent and half a tribute to my friend for listening to me and cheering me up and reassuring me :')) everyone deserves a semi he's literally a sweetheart and i hope that when you guys are struggling, you guys reach out to people around you too :)) (reposted becuz tumblr cancelled my tags dbfshdbjs)

[goodwriterwithbadhabits]

Want Me

This is, a lot more than anything I've ever written, but I hope you like it.

Master List

~~

When Chan had told Stays he had a gift for them today, you had anticipated something like the valentines date. Maybe even Hyunjin’s surprise appearance. What you definitely weren’t expecting was your boyfriend to basically strip in front of literally the whole world.

“Oh. My god.” Your reaction was subconscious, and totally not something you wanted your roommate, Sungmi, to hear. Your eyes were the size of saucers as you stared at your phone.

“What’s up?” Her interest was piqued the second you made a sound, and being you, you did the one thing you could think of.

You threw your phone as far from yourself as possible.

The two of you watch it sail across the living room and land safely in the dirty clothes hamper neither of you had moved from the hallway to the washer.

“Uh, you good?”

“Wow, look at that laundry!” You exclaim, “Someone should go do it.” You can’t even jump up from the couch when her hand is wrapping around your ankle, pulling you onto the floor.

“Was it Chan’s performance?” Your face immediately goes crimson. “No,” You lie, poorly. “What performance? I didn’t even know he was performing. I should go do the laundry.” You’re talking like you’re the flash, and while she’s attempting to figure out what you said, you attempt to wrench your leg from her grip. Unfortunately her brain power is faster that you can get your arms under you, though you do manage to yank her off the couch with you.

“Get back here!” She huffs, yanking you closer to her and somehow managing to sit on your pelvis. “You saw the Wolfgang performance didn’t you?” She demands, but your answer is more struggling to knock her over. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/n.” She drops forward, pinning your arms by your head, and if she were literally anyone else, you would probably think this was super hot.

“Curse your shockingly strong legs.”

“Nine years of waterpolo.” She explains.

“Really? Damn, I should start playing.”

“You’re stalling.”

“No I’m not.” You lie, again. She rolls her eyes, dropping her head a little more to knock her forehead against yours. “Ow.”

“Be honest with me.”

“I am.”

“No you’re not.” She bonks your head again, “Stop lying.”

“Will you get off me?”

“When we’re done talking.”

“Then yes, I saw Chan’s Wolfgang performance.” She nods, letting go of your hands to sit up properly and crush your pelvis a little more.

“I thought it was pretty hot.” She confesses and you feel something bubble in your chest. You can’t help the slight twitch in your brows and of course she notices. “Ah! Jealousy!”

“I’m not jealous.” She taps your forehead, aggressively enough to hurt a little. “Ow.”

“You can’t lie to a Psychology major.”

“I’m not-” She raises her finger again and you relent. “Alright, fine. Maybe I’m not a huge fan of someone telling me they think my boyfriend is hot to my face.”

“Did you think it was hot?” Your face grows warm and you have to bite back an embarrassed smile.

“I’m not answering that.”

“You don’t have to. You’d be stupid to think otherwise.”

“Especially when he was in the white shirt.” You admit, and she nods.

“You should see if he’ll wear something like that next time you two decide to get all hot and heavy.” Your face flushes again, not really wanting to discuss your sexlife with someone you’ve only actually known for about seven months.

“Um yeah, totally.”

“Oh my god. You guys don’t do stuff!”

“We do stuff!” You defend, immediately regretting it.

“Oh really? Ever used handcuffs?” On him, or me?

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“So that's a no. How about, have you ever sent him a nude?” Oh, if only you knew.

“Get off me.”

“Another no.” She grins, “I’m shocked, he seems like such a feisty boy, you’d think he’d do stuff.” “Seriously, get off.” There’s no humor in your voice now. It wasn’t her place to tell you about your own boyfriend, and you were getting sick of her forcing her way into your love life.

“Oh come on Y/n.” She doesn’t get another word out before you grab her leg and wrench her sideways. Instead of just tossing her onto the floor, you find yourself slamming your hand into the floor by her head, now leaning over her.

“Stay out of my love life, do you hear me?” You practically growl, “I don’t need your help to please my boyfriend.” Her eyes go wide at your words, and you instantly become aware of your positions when a smirk paints itself on her face.

“My, my Y/n. I didn’t peg you as someone who’d be on top.”

“Clearly.” You reply. “Now are you quite done?”

“Have you ever topped him? He seems like the kind of guy who wouldn’t like that.”

“Once again, I don’t have to answer that.”

“You should try it. Something tells me you’ll like it.”

“Shut up.”

~~

“I hate you.” It had been hours since your rather sexually charged conversation with her, and here you were standing at her doorway seeking advice. You hadn’t stopped thinking about what she had said, but in all honesty, Chan was your first, so you had no clue what you were doing most of the time.

“Oh? Is that why you’re looking all lost and confused at my door?” Her voice is sickeningly sweet as she looks at you in the mirror. “What up?”

“I need advice.”

“Wear black, it looks good on everyone.” Her gaze shifts back to her reflection, where she’s curling her hair for a date.

“About Chan.” Her attention turns back to you in an instant and you’re tempted to run back to your room.

“In what sense?”

“What you said earlier.” A wicked grin spreads on her face. “Have a seat darling.” You trudge over to her bed, sitting on the trunk at the end to watch her. “First off, tell me this, who initiates sex usually?”

“He does.” You admit quietly. “Babe, if you want my help, you gotta be able to talk about sex without turning into a tomato. I mean, how are you sexually active and still blushing like a virgin. Next you're going to tell me you only do it missionary with the lights off.”

“Well…” Her mouth drops open in horror.

“Oh my god.” She gasps. “No wonder you’re all annoyed these days. You’re not satisfied.”

“Hey, he gets me off,” You defend, “And he’s very good at it.” You practically swoon just thinking about it. She raises her hands in surrender, but smiles at your answer.

“Have you ever asked him for oral?”

“How the hell do I bring that up in casual conversation? Just “Hey babe, you did wonderful today, do you want to eat me out’.”

“Well if it works.”

“No.”

“Okay, have you ever worn lingerie for him?”

“No, but I did buy something to wear a few months ago.” She nods, approving.

“How come you’ve never worn it?”

“Between Kingdom and the fact that he lives with seven other men, there hasn’t exactly been a time and place.”

“That’s fair. When do you guys usually do it? What’s it like? Just broad details.”

“He tells me he wants to spend the night. I usually get a hotel room, since my parents are still sending me money for rent, and we arrive at separate times. Its usually really sweet and slow.”

“And after?” She prompts.

“We shower, and cuddle. He usually leaves first cause he has practice or something.”

“Ever done it in the shower?” You shake your head, shoulders slumping as you realize how lame everything sounds.

“I really like him, but I think, especially since you said he seems like a kinky type, what if he’s not as into me?”

“I don’t think that’s the case.” She turns her chair towards you, setting a hand on your knee. “I think you’re both too nervous to broach the subject. I know this is your first real relationship, and it might be his too.”

“So, what should I do?”

“Start simple.” She turns back to her mirror, “You should book a room, and jazz it up a little. Rose petals, candles, maybe that set you bought. That way its obvious you want him.”

“That's not a bad idea.”

“Even better! I will go halfsies on one of the fancy hotels with you. I know one that has these huge bathtubs so you can take one together, and the shower has a stone floor, so its not slippery. Oh! We can get you a pretty silk robe, so you can do the dramatic reveal.”

“This sounds like a lot. How about for now, I just do the candles and the set?” She laughs, clearly embarrassed by the way she fiddles with her necklace.

“Sounds like a plan. You can do the big one for your anniversary.” You nod, agreeing with her.

“I can do it tonight, he’ll probably want some stress relief after that performance.” You offer her a sly smile, jumping up to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” She calls after you.

“I gotta go buy some candles.”

~~

Hey lover, come meet me. *Y/n shared her location*

You glanced over at the message again as you adjusted the black lace garterbelt. Sungmi had been right, black did look amazing on everyone. He had read the message, and if you were lucky, he was too busy driving over to text you back. You slid the black skirt up your legs, loving the way it stopped just under the edge of the thigh highs. The last piece was a simple t shirt, it was a little ripped and hung off one shoulder, just giving a slight peekaboo of the bra you had spent way too much money on. If Chan didn’t combust from seeing you in this, you were going to have a fun night.

Carefully you moved your things out of the main room, tucking them in the closet for safe keeping, and began lighting the candles. The sweet aroma of vanilla and lavender wafted through the room as you shut the lights off. You settled on the edge of the bed, taking a few risque selfies to show Sungmi and maybe send Chan later.

And then you waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Babe?

Three hours, that's how long you’d been waiting before you finally texted him again, having run out of excuses for the man.

“Sorry babe, I was working. Do you still want me to come to you?”

Not really, after this long, the wonder had worn off, and you just felt stupid and hurt. Of course he wasn’t going to come if you asked.

No. Its fine.

Actually, I want to talk to you. Are you still at the studio?

You set your phone down, turn the lights back on and begin blowing out candles. You don’t bother changing, just grab your sneakers and your bag before heading out, tucking your key and phone in your bra as you leave the building.

With some take out in hand you make your way to the JYP building, not at all surprised to see several lights still on.

“Woah, hel-lo Y/n.” You instantly smile at Jae’s greeting, which is followed by Brian’s whistle. “You look like a full course meal, girl.”

“Hey boys, what had you here so late, its past midnight?”

“Oh we were just-” Jae glances over at Brian who clears his throat.

“Just working. What about you?”

“Chan’s still working, so I brought some food.” You shrug, heading towards the elevators, “Have a good night.

“You too.” You have to bite your lip so you don’t laugh at Brian smacking Jae’s shoulder, earning a whine from the taller boy.

The lights from the studios are all off when you arrive, but you can see the glow of the computer shining from Chan’s. You knock as you open the door, making him jump and yank his headphones off when the light from the hall hits him. His face lights up in a smile when he sees you. Of course, he’s wearing super tight jeans and a black button up, neither of which were not helping you relax.

“Oh hey baby, I didn’t know you were coming.” He stands to greet you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“I texted you.” You tell him, which has him looking guilty.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear it when I’m working.” You smile reassuringly at him.

“That's okay, I know, that’s why I just came over.” You hold up the bag of take out, “I also brought food since you forget to eat when you start working.”

“You are the light of my life.” He sighs, kissing you properly this time as he takes the bag. Your heart flutters from his words, some of the butterflies in your stomach coming back from the dead. You sit across from him, stealing his work chair as he spreads the food out on the table and digs in. It takes him a few minutes to notice that you’re just staring, and he finally stops eating to say something, “You okay? How come you aren’t eating?”

“I already ate.” You lie, but he sees right through it, setting his chopsticks down to look at you properly. You watch his eyes rake across your body, finally seeing the lace stockings and the matching bra.

“That’s not it. You’re disappointed.” He realizes, “You looked the same way when you saw I.Ns grades.” He explains before you can even open your mouth to answer. “I know its not our anniversary, and your birthday already passed.”

“Its nothing babe. I just had a stupid idea for tonight.” The words come spilling out of your mouth before you can stop them. He looks at your outfit again and a cheeky smile begins to grow on his face.

“Were you-? But you never-” He lets out a deep breath, followed by a small giggle, which doesn’t make you feel better.

“I should head home.” You spring up, heading towards the door. “Enjoy your dinner.” He catches your arm before you get too far, pulling you back to wrap his arms around you.

“What did you have planned, baby girl?” Your heart flutters at the pet name, and the low tone his voice had taken on. “You wouldn’t have gotten all dressed up like this for nothing.” HIs free hand trails down your side, coming to the edge of your skirt, where his fingers find the skin just above the top of your stockings.

“Maybe I just wanted to make sure you want me as much as I want you.” You confess.

“Baby girl.” His voice is soft now, “Of course I want you.” His lips brush the skin of your neck as he speaks, sending shivers across your whole body.

“Then how come we never do anything interesting?”

“Like what?” Your confidence grows as you turn to face him, looping a finger through the choker he wears.

“Maybe I don’t want to do the same thing every time we fuck.” You can see from the way his eyebrows hike up that he’s startled by your words, hell, you were startled by them. “Maybe I want to see you.” Your other hand moves up to his face, trailing your thumb over his lips. “Maybe I don’t always want to be in a bed, in the dark, on my back. Maybe I want to be in charge.”

“I don’t think you could handle that baby girl.” He bites at your thumb as he finishes his sentence.

“Try me, Chris.” You challenge. His hands come up to your cheeks, pulling you in for a searing kiss. For a few seconds, your brain forgets what you had just challenged. He doesn’t help as he pulls away from your lips, his trailing across your cheek and down your neck.

“Sit.” You order, pulling away, trying to keep your breathing steady and not let on how affected you were.

“Excuse me?”

“Sit. Down.” You order again, shoving him lightly towards his computer chair. He backs up slowly, collapsing into it, eyes never leaving you.

“What are you doing?” He asks as you turn away from him.

“Proving a point.” You declare, the click of his lock emphasizing your words.

“Oh?” You turn back to him, finding him relaxed as ever, watching you with his legs spread wide. You saunter towards him, standing between his legs, hands on the arm rests. “You really think you can handle this baby?”

“If I impress you, you’ll save your work and we head over to the hotel.”

“And if you don’t?”

“You save your work and we head over to the hotel anyway.”

“Bet.”

“You might regret that, baby.” You push on the chair, sending it back until it connects with his desk.

“Oh really?” He asks, as you push his knees together slightly so you can straddle his lap. Your fingers trail from his shoulders down to the buttons on his shirt, popping them open one at a time.

“You talk too much.” You tell him, leaning forward to press kisses along his neck. Just as you hit his pulse point, he hisses, hands coming to rest on your thighs. “Ah ah ah.” You chastise, pulling away from his neck. “No touching.” You pull his hands away, dropping them on the arm rests instead. “Hands to yourself.”

“Oh you are in for it when we get to the hotel.” He groans as you nip at his skin.

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

[pianorexic000]

Sweetspo Saturday

Hi y’all, so today is sweetspo Saturday.......

it speaks for itself. By the way, none of these are mine. I take no credit I have 0 creativity.

I dream of collarbones and thigh gaps, of hips jutting out and ribs just visible, casting shadows on porcelain flesh. I dream of crop tops and denim shorts, of thigh highs and sugar highs. And when I lay in bed at night, counting the calories of the day before my mind can’t help but wander, and I press into my doughy stomach, feel the hips hiding underneath, and remind myself how far I’ve come, and how far I still have to go.

Please listen, I know, I know it’s hard but listen, focus, you, you the most beautiful person on this whole entire planet you are going to make it, I promise you sweetheart, you’re going to make it. Think about it, think about how skinny you’ll be, how happy you will be, how you are going to be able to wear what you want, how you are going to be able to eat what you want and no one is going to make you feel bad for eating, no one. They’re going to be jealous, so fucking jealous, jealous of how you look and how you feel. They’re going to envy you. So stand up, keep your pretty head up and go. Exercise, drink water, eat less, eat healthy, sleep, do yoga, dance around. Get skinny and be finally happy. Please be finally happy.

You’ve been so disappointed in yourself lately. You’ve cursed those girls with a fast metabolism and regretted so much, sweetie. Countless of times you’ve thought, planned and wished to be skinny. I know you want this so badly, honey. But it’s never going to be given to you, sugar. You have to work for it and make yourself proud! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

I know you’re very impatient with your weight-loss. You want to lose it NOW and would do anything to wake up tomorrow at you ugw. But that’s never going to happen, doll. It’ll take time, but you will get there, sweetie. You just have to be persistent and never give up. The road is very long, and there will be days where it’ll feel hopeless, angel. But i promise you that those days where you feel incredibly sexy and comfortable in your own skin are just around the corner. You’ll get there baby, but it’ll take time. So don’t beat yourself up.

You’ll look good in everything; you remember that bikini with the cute print? yes, you’ll look beautiful in it. you won’t look like a fat pig.

people will be jealous; they’ll envy you. you’ll become thinner while others are getting fatter.

you’ll be dainty; you’ll be the lightest in the room. everyone will be able to pick you up effortlessly.

others will compliment you; people will look at you and say “wow, have you lost weight?” “you look great!” “i wish i looked like you.”

you won’t be able to keep more than a cup of food down; you’ve trained your body, you and your body both know its limits.

you’ll have power; you can can control how you look, you’ll have control. self control instead of eating everything in sight. you’ll be proud when you refuse a chocolate bar someone is offering.

are you going to keep saying “i’ll do it tomorrow”

or are you going to start today?

you’ll get there sweetie, make them regret the day they dare call you fat; they’ll start talking GOOD behind your back; “she is losing so much weight omg” “ i wanna look like her.” “im so jealous of her tiny waist.”

make it happen, you cause the gain of weight

and the loss of weight.

It's Okay!

You were really bad this weekend weren’t you? You ate fatty food and cheated on your diet? I know you bash yourself for pushing yourself further from your goal, but it was just Easter and you were enjoying spending time with your family. Unfortunately that included eating. Thin is all you think about cutie, why would you stuff your face uncontrollably like that, sugar? You can’t stop now, i know it’s hard but it’ll be worth it in the end.

Meanspo

Dear You,

You’ve grown up being the “big” girl. You’ve grown up being the “I want seconds” girl. You entered college being the “let’s eat out because it’s easier” girl.

When will you be the “I eat healthy” girl? The “people can pick me up” girl? The “I love my body” girl?

Today? Oh, right, you say tomorrow. Funny, that’s what you said yesterday.

It’s YOUR fault you’re fat. You don’t control your fatty urges to binge and stuff your face. One day, you’ll regret that. And that day is TODAY. If you regret it, then make a change. Skip that meal. Eat less calories. Exercise and burn what you have consumed and stored from your past pathetic eating habits. Get rid of your fatty urges. BECOME SKINNY…Become beautiful. Because if you don’t start today, you’ll only hate yourself tomorrow… again.

Do it. Do it so you can wear cute short shorts without everyone looking at your thighs and being disgusted.

Do it for that bitch who always called you fat at middle school.

Do it for that fuckboy who never looked at you as girlfriend potencial.

Do it so you can be confident.No seriously you’ll never be confident with that big tummy dude.

Do it so you don't ALMOST DIE in fitting rooms.

Do it for the cute clothes.

Do it for the summer.

Do it for the pool parties and how all of your friends will be SHOOK at your perfect body.

Do it for that life little baby. You deserve it. You deserve so much happiness.

Imagine you’re sitting at your desk in your perfectly decorated bedroom. You’re doing school work (all A’s of course), and since the lighting is good, you stop studying for a second and take a selfie.

You notice your collarbones are perfectly peaking out, and your chest bones are slightly visible. You have no makeup on but you still look absolutely gorgeous. Your flawless skin (that you got from not eating junk food all the time) looks great on your camera. Your thin arms look especially toned in this picture, and your smile is unforgettable.

You decide to post it to Instagram, and it instantly gets likes and comments saying how gorgeous you look. You want to keep studying…but the amount of likes and attention is distracting!

You think to yourself “Amazing how my life has changed. 30lbs ago I barely got 30 likes. My grades were bad and I had horrible acne…it’s so great what being thin can do to a person”

One day I won’t have to suck in

One day I’ll sit down and not have belly rolls

One day my thighs won’t touch

One day I’ll be able to see my ribs

One day I’ll step on the scale and smile

One day I’ll be able to smile at my protruding collar bones

One day I’ll wear the clothes I want

One day I’ll be confident

One day I’ll be skinny

do it for the boy who leaves your snapchats at read. imagine how quickly he’ll reply when he sees how good you look in your new body. do it for the girls you envy, the girls who show up in crop tops and short shorts whilst you hide behind a baggy sweater. imagine how proud you’ll feel when you can finally wear what you want and look just as good, if not better than them. do it for the people who bullied you about your weight and the boys who turned you down because of it. watch them gawk and whisper among themselves at how much weight you’ve lost. do it for the mean girls, the ones that walk around school like they own the place, the ones who’s parties you never get invited to, the ones that all the boys want. prove yourself to them. soon they’ll notice you and you’ll be too proud to care. own your new found confidence, throw your own parties, feel wanted. do it for the boy you’ve been crushing on since the first time you met. make him want you just as you wanted him. laugh at yourself as he chases after you. watch him suffer just as you did. do it for the bikini you’ve never had the body to wear. make your old self proud. wear that bikini. finally feel good in it. go to the beach and the pool and show it off. it belongs on you. do it for yourself. do it for your own happiness and do it right now. you deserve this. it might take some time and maybe you’re growing impatient. but it’s okay, everything good takes time. so be safe, stay strong, and don’t give up. this will be worth the wait. trust me.

I literally cannot fucking wait until I’m thin. I can’t wait to not feel like the outsider in my friend group. I can’t wait to not feel like the ugly friend. I can’t wait to be as thin as my best friend and for people to not see me as a charity case. I can’t wait to be able to go shopping and not worry about what will hide my fat. I can’t wait to see my collarbones and feel great in shorts. I can’t wait to be able to post selfies confidently from any angle and get as many likes as all the thin girls from school. I can’t wait to be someone else’s thinspo. I can’t wait to be happy with myself. I can’t wait to be thin.

Okie lovey, I know you might have had a rough couple of days or maybe you’ve been doing everything right and you just need a little pick me up. That’s okay too. I’m here for you, maybe not there physically but I’m still here. Make some tea, and take a bath; while you’re in there light a few candles and take time for yourself. Paint your nails read a book or simply think about bettering yourself. You’re almost there, I’m so excited for you! I’m going to be there when you cross that finish line (UGW). Finished with tea? Are you hungry? No. Exactly, chin up sweetheart, you got this. I love you

10 Reasons I want to be Thin

1. A flat stomach looks so good in anything. 2. No more armpit fat. 3. Finally have a thigh gap (again). 4. Feel beautiful and in control 5. people you already know will ask you how you did it, new people you meet will fall in love with you. 6. Go on adventures and have fun without worrying about your fat jiggling around. 7. Tan outside or at the lake without wanting to die because you’re too fat for a bikini. 8. Going out to parties and making friends because you’re confident and beautiful. 9. Not wanting to cry every time you see your full body in a mirror/ reflection. 10. Not crying in general anymore. Finally being happy.

11 Reasons Why I'm Doing This

1. To be the skinny friend

2. So I can be lifted up and be called light

3. To wear anything and still look cute

4. To have pretty bones to show off

5. To hear those words; ‘Have you lost weight?’

6. To not feel guilty when having a sweet treat (occasionally!)

7. To wear tight jeans and not have a muffin top

8. To not want to cry every time I look in the mirror

9. To not feel embarrassed in a bikini or swimsuit

10. To sit on someone’s lap without fear of crushing them

11. To finally feel happy with myself

They are in the kitchen making dinner. It smells so good, and all you want to do is have some. But would that make you happy? Would that food actually do anything for you? Sure, it would taste good. But as soon as you swallow, it would be gone. You’d take a drink of water, and the taste would wash away. Five minutes of fun, and then you’d be full. Full of food, regret, hate, shame, and disgust. Today would be yet another day wasted. So go ahead, eat the food. Be the fat tub of lard you always have been. Or don’t. Don’t eat the food. Be a day closer to your goal.

The choice is yours.