#if any of this makes no sense it is because I am So tired :“”))

[lavendermatchastrife]

Give Me The Last Four Of Your Credit Card…

warnings: 18+ mdni, sexual content, like explicit, unprotected sex, cursing, sugar daddy!gojo x sugar baby!reader, chubby reader, alt reader/goth reader, obsession, the most minor stalking ever, switch!gojo if you squint, not a slow burn more like warm hot on fire, reader is the bratty tsundere type, gojo is the sappy (lowkey) yandere type, cheating (not gojo), dw they match each others freak, heavy spending, money talks, eat the rich, unspecified POC reader, short multi-part series

summary: pretty girl with a broken heart? nothin’ a sexy sugar daddy (who also happens to be your neighbor) can’t fix!

wc: 9.3k

a/n: I decided to make this a couple parts rather than one condensed long-fic! pls enjoy, comment, reblog, whatever ur heart desires! I am open to suggestions and headcanons for my future/developing parts :3 <3 as stated in the drabble I did, this is based off of the Summer Walker song!!^

•

What was the point of having a heart in this world?

Your ex-boyfriend was disgusting, in every sense of the word. Left his shit everywhere, came and went as he pleased, spent your hard earned money, never washed his own dishes or did his own laundry, and used a fucking single bar of soap to wash himself. You thought cheating on you was the last straw, but that nasty shit was it. A bar of soap, if he was spending your money the least he could do was get actual shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. And moisturize for god's sake.

You put up with so much because you really thought you loved him. This time though, you were truly tired of him and tired of constantly having a broken heart. To hell with love, you certainly didn’t need “love” from anyone, let alone from someone as broke as he was. (The kicker was that he came from wealth, he just didn’t want to share any of it with you.) You were done with that way of living, done with giving yourself away for absolutely nothing in return. Your love from now on would be conditional. If that meant you’d be a man hating spinster for the rest of your life then oh, well. So be it.

You threw him out with all of the things you bought him. Kicked him to the curb despite his begging and pleading with you to give him another chance. Nothing he said would change your mind, but it sure was a sight to behold. You almost enjoyed seeing him grovel at your feet as you stood firm in your doorway. For once, in the entire span of your relationship, he was attempting to worship the ground you walked on. Too little too late.

He kicked up quite a ruckus, literally wailed while he kissed your ankles and you rolled your eyes. The neighbor in the unit next to you even poked his head out to see if everything was alright, and as his pretty blue eyes met yours you quickly looked away. His smirk was lost on you, and despite your lack of interest he still made his way over to the pathetic display. You sure were beautiful in your long black silk robe, fluffy black slippers, and that scowl plastered across your face had him practically drooling. He loved a woman with an attitude, and from the looks of it you’d have a nasty one.

“Everything alright, over here? Is he bothering you?” The handsome stranger tipped his rounded black sunglasses low, just to stare down at the man kissing your feet.

“This is your business, how?”

“You just looked like a sweet damsel, figured I could swoop in and save the day.” You snorted and rolled your eyes ready to tell him to take a hike, “Just kiddin’, these walls are thin and you guys have been fighting for hours. Came to see if there was anything I could do to help ya out.” This had your ears pricked with curiosity, if you thought about it, the walls were thin. You were mortified, on more than one occasion you’d heard your neighbor rustling around, his television going, occasionally he’d have a guest over. It never clicked that maybe he could hear you as well, it only made sense that he would.

You gave the lanky man a thorough look over. He was very good looking, he wore an expensive baby blue buttoned top, ironed black slacks, and perfectly polished shoes. You made a noise of contemplation, everything about him, from his maintained yet unruly white hair, perfect teeth, and manicured nails, even those douchey sunglasses, screamed wealthy. What the hell was he doing in these apartments? Well whatever his reason, maybe you could at least use him a little.

“I’m kicking this loser out, he’s a bum and he’s broke. I’m tired of him.” You tried to appear as if you were cold, vein, maybe even money hungry. You inspected your nails as your ex continued to plead with you to let him back inside, and you shooed him away with your foot. “Man, get the hell off me, I’m done with you. Get a job, make some real money, then maybe I’ll call you back.” You picked up the last of his things from behind you and threw it right at his pathetic face, and then pointed your sharp polished index finger at your neighbor. In the same demanding tone you used on your ex, you bit out, “Make him leave and I don’t know, give me five hundred bucks and then maybe I’ll give you my number.” You slammed the door in both of their faces, not waiting for the handsome man to respond to you. You couldn’t see his face (heart eyes, warmth in his cheeks, definitely beginning to drool.), he was probably insulted (he really wasn’t), but it didn’t matter to you in the moment. You were just so pissed off at what you came home to, you needed to think.

Your heart was racing, the last thing you needed was another too handsome man, barreling his way into your life just to wreck it. You felt bad that your first time actually talking to the cute guy next door was such an embarrassing scene. He didn’t deserve the way you brushed him off, or the clipped tone of your voice. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, you could tell he was genuinely concerned. You sighed then and paced your apartment, not paying any mind to the rustling outside of your apartment door and the frustrated pleading from your ex. You decided, after only a few minutes of contemplation, to hike over and apologize to the man. So you hopped in your shower, slipped on some actual clothes, and went to go knock on his door to apologize.

Or at least that’s what you planned on doing, but he was already right outside of yours. He held out a wad of cash and a tiny gift bag, from a jeweler way outside of any budget you could ever even dream of placing. You stared at it then back up at him, and he wanted to melt right into a puddle. Your eyebrows were drawn in, completely confused at the sight before you. God you looked so perfect, he needed to see more of your expressions up close. Meanwhile, as he stared down at you and shamelessly took you in, you had to stop yourself from gaping at him. How did he manage to clean up even nicer than when you saw him earlier? How did he manage to get you a gift and pull out money in the short time it took you to freshen yourself up. You were certain you took less than twenty minutes to scrub your day away, and only ten minutes to put on some simple makeup. You threw on a thin strapped black sundress, because it was at the top of your clean laundry bin, and you hadn’t even put on proper shoes, still in your house slippers from earlier. Where did he find the time?

“What, uh-” you blinked at the little bag as he took your hand and gingerly placed it in your open palm. He made sure to stuff the cash inside of it, too. “What is this for?”

“Being so damn beautiful.”

“Excuse me?” You backed away, intrigued and intimated at the same time. What did he want from you, was this hush money? Did he kill your ex? You glanced at the bundled up leafy greens, a thick stack of hundreds. You’d never seen so much in one place, you didn’t even want to know what was in the bag. You hesitantly stepped back towards him, took a look around outside of your door. “Are you pranking me right now?”

“No, I just think a pretty girl like you would be even prettier swimming in my dough and covered in the jewelry I pick out.” Where the hell was that coming from? You blinked up at him, then took a peak at what was inside of the bag. Pearls? Dainty little things, with a pinkish-blue hue, and pretty white gold clasps.

“W-what is this? Are you trying to get something out of me? Listen, I know that guy and I have been less than considerate, and I do apologize. But if you think I’m easy-!”

“No, no! I don’t want anything but your number, I just think you’re wasted on trash like him. I could get you things, I could take care of you. I have cash, like, not to brag-a lot of it. Honestly, you don’t even have to give me your number, just keep the gift.” He was rambling, if you had known him before, you would know that this was totally unlike him when it came to women.

He was your average Casanova, if he wanted someone all he had to do was snap his fingers. He had people from all walks of life swooning, his smooth talking landed him dates with models and movie stars. He was tragically handsome, disgustingly wealthy, and incredibly smart to top it all off. He was more than the whole package, and he knew it. But when you stared at him with your shining doe eyes it reduced him to a blubbering mess.

You stared at the money, the pearls, then your gaze found his once more. You studied his captivating blue eyes, then chewed on your bottom lip as you thought. You supposed you could give him your number. After all, he gave you more than the ridiculous dollar amount you threw at him earlier, and he got rid of your ex. Truthfully, you didn’t even want his money, it was meant to be a deterrent. And maybe you wanted to be a little bit mean.

Shit, you were easy! You flicked your head towards the inside of your apartment. Told him to take his shoes off as he clambered inside, and plopped the precious items in your hands onto your coffee table. He realized, as he looked around, that your apartment layout was exactly like his just mirrored. He stood in your entryway and appreciated the way your home was decorated and furnished.

There was soft, warm, inviting ambient lighting. A fluffy black rug placed in the center of your living room underneath the mahogany coffee table, it contrasted perfectly to the polished wooden floors. A black cushiony loveseat was pressed against the back wall of your living room. A smaller television was placed on a stand that matched your coffee table, pushed against the adjacent wall. Your apartment had a patio directly outside of your living room, the glass doors were hidden beneath black curtains. A singular trailing plant hung near it in a clay pot and dark grey woven hanger. Overall, it was very tidy but hardly looked lived in, the only real indicator were framed photos of you and some friends that lined the walls or were placed on your tv stand. There were a few pillows scattered about, from when (he assumed) you were fighting with your ex earlier. He thought he heard thudding from you throwing things at him, and the pathetic mewling from your ex in response would be, “Awe c’mon baby don’t be like this. She didn’t mean anything to me!”

You snapped your fingers to get his attention, and then pointed at your small sofa, indicating that he should sit. It was wordless, and he obeyed just like a dog. You could almost picture it, his tail wagging rapidly, his ears drawn slightly back but in hesitation not fear. The mental image brought a smile to your face that you quickly wiped so as to not catch his eye. You shuffled towards your tiny open kitchen, brought two glasses and a bottle of champagne you’d splurged on the night before. The memory brought a sour taste to your mouth.

Earlier that day, you had just been promoted at the job you’ve worked at for close to five years. It was very sudden and it took you by complete surprise. You figured you were going to be stuck in limbo with the same pay, same hours, same boring routine for another five years before they recognized how capable you were. That wasn’t the case, and they’d given you a couple more dollars and a title that probably didn’t exist. Those little details didn’t matter to you, though. You needed the raise, times were tough, you’d been saving up to go back to school and finally finish your degree; this could really help you out. So you bought a bottle of champagne to celebrate the news with your long time boyfriend. Who you were sure would be just as ecstatic, considering all he seemed to do was spend your hard earned cash on himself.

Just like a movie, you opened the door to your apartment, bottle in hand, keys thrown to the side. The place was eerily silent, abnormally dark. As you made your way to your room looking for your boyfriend, you heard the shower going in the bathroom adjacent to it. You shrugged, opened the door like you’d done countless times for the last year you’d been living together. And the sight before you, caused a loud gasp to rip from your throat and almost made you lose grip on the expensive bottle still clutched in your hands.

“What the fuck, Naoya?!” There he was, naked with his tongue down your best friend’s throat in your shower. One hand was on her hip. That god damn single bar of soap was clutched inside of the other.

Needless to say, the fight was ugly, you’d rocked the girls shit and his. You really didn’t want to put your hands on your (now ex) friend, but she knew what she signed up for when she hopped into your man’s pants in your apartment no less. Not a hair of yours was out of place, not a scratch was on your face or body, but you did break a nail. There went the hundreds of dollars you’d splurged on a manicure that day too.

Just thinking about it all got your blood boiling and you slammed the glasses down in front of you while you huffily plopped yourself on the couch next to your neighbor. He jolted at your hard movements and the dip in the cushion beside him. His body tensed when you leaned over to pour the sparkling beverage into your respective glasses. His eyes widened as you were just a breath away. Sweat dripped from his brow as you seemed to move in slow motion before him, adjusting the strap on your dress, fixing your hair, handing him his drink.

He scrambled to take the drink from you, “Thank you.” How polite, for all of his apparent confidence before; when you got him alone in your apartment he seemed like a completely different person.

Truthfully, he was just being cautious and a tad reserved, he didn’t think he’d get that far. And yeah, you definitely made him nervous. He’d seen plenty of gorgeous women, but you weren’t just a pretty face. You were the woman that plagued his thoughts and dreams for almost an entire year. The longer he sat in your presence, the more aware of the situation he became. The potential for what could develop between the both of you caused sweat to form at his brow.

You sat in silence, sipped on the crisply chilled champagne, your eyes definitely avoided one another mutually. You’d never been in the presence of someone so attractive before, you had a bad habit of dating down. Sure they were handsome, but you knew you were way out of any of your ex’s leagues.

The man cleared his throat after a couple minutes of pure silence. “Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Satoru Gojo, I’ve lived next door for the last 11 months or so.” He introduced himself, and you made a disinterested noise. Like the information didn’t mean anything to you, it did, but you didn’t want him to know that.

“I see.” You made no move to return the favor, not that you needed to; he already knew your name, already knew you’d been there long before him. Your name was so pretty, it really suited you. Whether it was your ex shouting it in anger or moaning it in pleasure, he knew it. He knew it and heard it almost every day. It plagued his thoughts, the months he’d lived next to you drove him insane.

Satoru saw you leave your apartment when he happened to be coming home from his own shift on numerous occasions. He didn’t really know what you did for work but the hours seemed brutal, and irregular. It was no secret that your bum of an ex boyfriend was in and out of a job, and relied on his parents' money as well as your money to get by.

Was it creepy that he was basically a fly on the wall when it came to your personal life? Yeah, definitely. It wasn’t his fault, though! He couldn’t control the fact that the apartment walls didn’t properly muffle the sounds beyond it.

It wasn’t like he was stalking you. He just thought you were pretty and sweet, and he didn’t mind how loudly you lived next to him. If you were alone he didn’t throw headphones on or turn his television up to drown out the sound of your life happening beyond that wall. He couldn’t help how attached he became to the idea of you. What was the harm in holding onto knowledge he’d happen to hear through his thin walls? He learned that you stayed up on the nights you were alone watching old horror films, or chatting loudly over the phone with friends. During a fight with your then boyfriend, he learned that you preferred dark chocolate over milk chocolate, and hated cheap jewelry. You loathed the idea of wasting money, especially on things of poor quality.

Half of your fights were about that man spending way too much. They would often go on for hours, and they almost always ended in the loudest rounds of sex ever. Satoru’s head would be squeezed between two of his pillows while he laid in bed. Or if the noise became unbearable, he’d just take a short walk. Your ex sounded terrible, grunted loudly like a beast and you sounded less than amused. You were loud for the sake of it, but it lacked sincerity. Yes, right there! In the flattest tone he’d ever heard. When your boyfriend would finally fall asleep Satoru would hear a loud sigh and then buzzing moments later. He was just thankful that you appeared to be going through a dry spell, lately.

For those times where he felt like more of an intruder, rather than a helpless bystander, he’d try to remove himself in any way possible. He didn’t want to do anything dishonest, after all those moments were incredibly vulnerable. If he was going to hear your voice in genuine bliss, it’d be completely consensual. He wasn’t the type of man to take advantage of an unaware woman, in the throes of pleasure. Even if it was tempting to listen in on your more intimate moments with yourself, out of respect and basic decency, he always removed himself.

The life Satoru led, he tried to be the best version of himself in every aspect. He was the epitome of success in his line of work. He fought hard for the position he held at the company he was employed at. He was known for being a tease, but never someone sleazy. He helped his peers in any way he could, took on overtime to save the rest of his team from more work than necessary. Overall, he wanted to be a good person, someone the people around him could rely on. Coming home, and listening to someone so similar to him yet so different; was almost grounding. It reminded him that there were other hardworking individuals, such as himself, that had their own problems and grievances. It helped him feel a little less alone.

At least that’s what he told himself so he could sleep at night.

He was lonely, and maybe that’s why he liked that he could hear you clean your room or laugh uncontrollably at something your friend would say over the phone. He didn’t have many friends, the ones that stuck around were just as busy as he was and hardly had time for a drink on occasion. His apartment was always quiet, he didn’t have a partner, didn’t have any pets. He went to work, came home, then went to bed so he could rest and then do it all over again. He was comfortable, yet he felt like his life lacked something, he couldn’t figure out what exactly it was. His slight obsession with you, he can’t remember exactly when it started. It wasn’t like it escalated into anything tangible, either. At the end of every day, you still had a boyfriend. You didn’t really notice him, and he didn’t make himself known either. At the end of the day, your vague presence was comforting and at most; entertaining.

“So uhm,” your hesitant voice brought him out of his muddied thoughts. “You said that these walls were thin, how much…how much did you hear earlier?” You asked, finally finishing your glass of champagne, and allowing your gaze to meet his own. You were so close to him, he took note of a nutty-sweat aroma that seemed to surround you. Like cocoa butter or lotion, your hair was damp from a quick shower and your shampoo had to have eucalyptus in it or something. He was blanking on what to say, too distracted by your growing proximity. Did you realize that you were leaning into him?

“Uh, I heard it all.”

“What do you mean by ‘all’?”

“Like, I heard him bring that girl home and fuck her, then I heard you come home and beat the shit out of them, and then I heard you kick him out.”

“Jesus!” You sighed, you were completely embarrassed. He’d heard literally everything. Which also meant he’d been able to hear all of your relationship issues for the entirety of however long he said he’d been living there. Which was mortifying in its own right, but you didn’t want to dwell on that detail for longer than you had to. “Do you know how long he’s been bringing my friend around?”

“I think this is the first time, although I’m not home all the time so who knows. Either way, I haven’t noticed him do this before.” A breath of relief left you, at least that douchebag tried to keep it out of the house for a little while. You eyed the bag on the table, and reached out for it to inspect the jewelry again. As you hastily threw the money aside, you pried open the little white bag. It wasn’t just a necklace, it was a pair of dainty matching earrings as well. It was modest enough, and classy. It was definitely to your taste, you had to admire it.

“These are really pretty.” Your voice trailed off as you pouted and looked to the side, when you felt your mask start to slip you added hastily, “A-although, I’ve seen better!” Satoru chuckled at that, you really couldn’t fool him but he played into it. Intrigued by whatever act you were trying to put on.

“We can do better, want me to get you another set real quick?” He pulled his phone out, pulled up the website of the jeweler and handed it to you. “Go on, pick something out.”

“What’s your game?” You took his phone, (What could possibly be better than pearls?) regardless of your apprehension. If money wasn’t an issue for him, then spending it on yourself wouldn’t be your problem either. He shrugged in response, traced his pretty blues along your hunched over frame. You rolled your eyes, crossed your leg over the other, and hastily scrolled like you were bored with what you were looking at. At that point you just wanted to see how he’d react, but he wasn’t doing anything to indicate that you were upsetting him at all. How did spoiled people even act? Your eyes had never dared to linger on luxury goods, so it was difficult not to widen them when you would see the price attached to some of the items.

To test him, you chose a ring that wasn’t too outrageous, yet plenty expensive. In fact, out of all of the options, it was one of the priciest items listed, despite its simplicity. Gems that were a sparkling dark blue and perfectly cut were encapsulated by a shiny silver band. You didn’t know what material it was made out of, these things were never actually important to you in the past. You cleared your throat, “This will do.” You hadn’t spent much time browsing, the ring was pretty enough, you tried not to think about the price of it. He made a noise of contemplation as he took the phone back from you.

“Is this the one you wanted?” He inspected the little ring, added it to the cart without hesitation, then added a matching pair of earrings for it as well. His finger hovered over the payment options, he hesitated for a second. He might as well get you the full set. So he added whatever else was in the collection to the cart just because he could. The total had too many zeroes attached to the end of it, and you willed your heart to steady. Satoru made a show of checking out, the order number beamed at you on screen and you blinked as if you couldn’t believe what he’d just done for you. Really, what was the catch?

“Do you want, like, sex or something?” You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea of someone just doing something like this for you. Let alone spending outrageous amounts of money on you without even blinking, and without even knowing you.

“If that’s what you want.” He leaned against the back of your couch, slouched his posture comfortably and mimicked your crossed legs. “What do you want me to want from you? Like I said, I just want your number.” He tipped his glasses down, his swirling blue irises captivating yours.

You took his phone, it was still unlocked, and you hastily typed your number into his contact list, the contact read Sugar Baby(?) <3. The whole “transaction” was simple enough, but felt so wrong. What was going on? Why did you feel a heaviness in your chest, it wasn’t the same as being upset. Did you like how it felt when he spent money on you? You’d never had anyone do that for you before, you’d always paid for yourself and then some. There wasn’t a moment you could remember where you weren’t the one that covered your own bill. That included the rent despite living with another person.

There was an ache between your thighs, and you didn’t have to check to know that you were incredibly wet. God, you felt like an awful woman.

“I don’t want a relationship. Probably ever again. If I give you my number, I’m just going to ask you for more money.” You turned your head to the side again, the habit seemed to form naturally as you spoke to your handsome neighbor. You didn’t want to look at him when you were being so childish and dishonest. He seemed nice, but you weren’t about to let some rich stranger steal your heart suddenly.

At the end of the day you knew nothing about him. If you wanted to simplify things, and avoid feeling bad; you could just label him as an eavesdropper that stepped in to help you out and that’s all he’d be. If being a money hungry, selfish person drove him away, then it would be no skin off of your nose. If nothing came of this brief interaction, it wouldn’t mean you’ve lost anything.

“Please do.” He was amused, and really enjoyed your hot and cold attitude. He knew a liar when he saw one, but there wasn’t any harm in the little act you were putting on. It was refreshing being around someone so expressive and confrontational. Especially since he was usually holed up for hours in an office with a bunch of uptight pencil pushers. “You can have whatever you want, do whatever you want.” You realized that despite all of your time in your home alone, that entire evening he hadn’t made a move to touch you. Satoru kept his hands to himself, he wouldn’t even brush his knee against yours. He was entirely conscious of his large figure, and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

How fortunate was he to be your only immediate neighbor. Not only that, but he was also welcome inside of your cute little home, your safe space. He wouldn’t do anything to ruin that moment. He was thankful that you were in the last apartment at the end of the building. You didn’t have another neighbor on the other side, it’d always felt like it was just him and you. He couldn’t imagine someone else being the lucky one to earn your attention just for living next to you. He’d treasure whatever time he had with you.

For some reason, his transparency had your heart racing. You felt flushed, your body was tense with attraction you have never felt before. Was this really all it took to get you going? A huge wad of cash? A little bit of respect and honesty? It was the bare minimum (not the cash, his actions, that cash was definitely an added bonus), yet you found yourself leaning into him more, against your better judgement.

Your small hands traced along his muscular thighs, the touches were hesitant at first just so you could gauge his reaction. Curious eyes studied his large frame, it slightly trembled beneath your fingertips. He lolled his head towards you, then smiled in encouragement. If that’s how you wanted things to go, then he’d happily indulge. Your insecure fingers trailed upwards, like you were distracting yourself with the material of his nice slacks. “I suppose, if you really wanted to, we could fool around every now and again, too.” You leaned your face towards his own, studied his expression for any indication that he didn’t want what you were about to do. You really needed to relieve the ache between your legs, you hoped that he wanted to help you out with that too.

His firm arms slid around your soft figure, and lifted you so that your thighs could cage him against your small couch. He eagerly nodded along, but you scowled at the last second, and pushed him further into the back of the couch. “Act like you want it then, or I’m not giving it to you.”

“Please, I want it, give it to me, pretty girl.” His voice dripped with sweet honey, his words caused your cheeks to heat with burning excitement.

“Well, fine. But don’t think I’m desperate or anything! This is only because you asked for it.” You reached below to pull your long dress over your head. You continued to try to appear as if this was nothing to you, but never in your life have you ever just hooked up with someone before. Let alone a complete stranger. You tried not to dwell on the fact that you’d only learned his name an hour or so prior. He nodded once again, lazily smiled at your proclamation, because he could see through you entirely. You were incredibly honest where it counted, because his eyes traced how damp your panties were and how hastily you pulled your clothes off.

You helped him undress, it was sloppy and rushed but you just really needed to feel him against you. As you got lost in the moment, your frustration from your previous fight began to melt away. Maybe you really needed this, at the very least, you could see this as being a good way to calm down from the events that previously transpired. Your fingers rushed to unbutton his top, and shove his pants down. They were rushed movements with your growing impatience, so he did everything he could to help you out. Slid his shirt off his shoulders when the buttons were undone. Shimmied his pants off when his buckle was thrown off and the zipper was pulled down.

“You want this here, or your bedroom, baby?” You sighed in sweet relief when you settled yourself back over his awaiting lap. The little pet name made your heart flutter, but you squashed the feeling before you could dwell on it. You would not be swayed by pretty words.

The both of you were finally in your undergarments. Breathing heavily from the growing intensity between the both of you. Harsh panting echoed throughout your otherwise empty apartment. You hadn’t even kissed, barely even touched each other yet, still you felt you were nearly undone already.

With a delicate touch, you cupped his face, scrunched your eyes shut, then sweetly kissed him once. It was soft, so much better than he could ever dream about. It took all of your courage to give him the tiniest smooch, but once you started it was like you couldn’t stop.

“Here. Now. I can’t wait.” You kissed him again, in between your words. Teeth clacked together because of the force behind it. He didn’t mind, if anything it got him going too. Your fingers carded through his fluffy hair, tugged it back so you could bite his lip. God, this was how you kissed? That lucky bastard had you all over him like this and had the audacity to take someone else up on the side?

Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you closer to his chest. Then he loosened one of his arms just so it could snake its way around to unclasp your bra. You threw it to the side, then continued to kiss him. Your bare chests rubbed together, it was warm and oddly intimate. You wanted this to go fast, wanted it to be rough because that’s what you were used to. You were a little caught off guard when his hands gently brushed your naked chest. His fingers delicately swirled around your nipples as if he’d hurt you if he applied any pressure.

You were softly moaning already, which was unlike you. You usually waited for penetration before your act began, but you found yourself leaning into his touch like your body was begging for more. You didn’t know that someone else’s touch against your heaving breasts could feel so good. It was usually numb or even slightly stung when your previous partners tugged at them.

Your hips were moving on their own, craving the hardened length underneath them.

He rubbed your sides, and trailed kisses down your neck or across your shoulders. You gasped, and mewled with every touch, every movement. Your hands roughly tugged his hair back again, forcing him to look into your desperate eyes. “I’m not going to beg for it more than this. Tell me what you want.” You demanded, you scraped your fingers along his scalp, grabbed the base of his follicles in a way that had his eyes rolling back. No one had ever been so forceful with him, he was beyond aroused. He didn’t know he liked being manhandled, he probably didn’t, but the way you did it was addictive. He eagerly bobbed his head, because who was he to question you? Who was he to deny you? He could see how clearly you wanted him, and in his eyes, you asked him so nicely.

“Please, can I put it in? I need it, baby, please?” His eyebrows were drawn inwards, his cheeks were on fire, he was going to go crazy if you didn’t say yes.

“It can’t be helped, then. S-since you’re so desperate for it.” You pulled your panties to the side, shoved his black briefs down, and he lined himself up with your dripping entrance. Your face was impossibly warm, your bottom lip was worried, puffy and raw.

You couldn’t lie to him or yourself, the proof was in the pudding that was melting so sweetly all over his throbbing cock. Your body cried out for him, needed him just as bad, if not more.

It’d been a long time since you’d last had sex, not that sex had ever been all that enjoyable for you. You saw it as a means to an end. A way to keep your partners satisfied and happy with you. You’d barely explored mutual pleasure with another person outside of a quick fingering. In that moment, probably for the first time, you were taking control of your sexuality and it was thrilling. He didn’t know it, but the sweet spot between your thighs had never been so wet in your life.

He experimentally shifted his hips upwards, poked at your entrance until it bloomed for him. Like a beautiful flower, your lower petals surrounded him as he sunk inside of you deeper and deeper. A low moan left his mouth, and a desperate sigh escaped yours. “God, that’s tight.” His hands steadied your hips until your lower halves were mushed together. Your pelvises wetly kissed, and you moaned loudly as the tip of his long cock kissed the back of your aching pussy. He was big, it wasn’t anything outrageous like in those raunchy books you occasionally indulged in, but it was certainly bigger than any of your previous partners. He was thick, your walls struggled to swallow him and keep him tucked inside. It was so tight around him that if he wasn’t actively pressing into you then he was sure that he’d pop right out of you from the resistance.

He kept himself inside, so that you could get used to him. He knew he wasn’t the biggest guy out there, but he also knew that his size could mean trouble if he didn’t do things the right way. He already messed up by not preparing you, that was his bad and he’d make up for it another time, but for just that instance he had to feel you. You were gushing around him, so slick that you welcomed him inside easily enough. He didn’t want to move until you were ready, though, so he hugged you against him while you caught your breath. He rubbed your tummy then your burning thighs while he pressed addictive kisses to your drooling awaiting mouth.

Finally, after what felt like hours but in reality was only a couple of minutes or so, you began to move on top of him. You experimentally lifted yourself up, used his shoulders for leverage as you pushed him further into your couch. He moaned again, and squeezed his eyes shut. It’d been a while for him too, and he’d never done it without a rubber so he was having a hard time keeping his impending orgasm at bay. He gripped your hips as you moved up and down at a tantalizing pace.

“I’ve never ridden someone before, so if it’s bad then just do the work yourself.” You huffed out as you continued to lift yourself and then plop yourself down onto his lap. Your pace increased as you spoke, it felt so good and you moved so well that he had a hard time believing you. He threw his head back and shook it, he didn’t want this to end. The friction when your pussy kissed where his dick began drove you wild. Your clit was always left out of the fun before so the stimulation almost hurt, but you didn’t stop. You rubbed yourself against his lower half when you’d drop down, and he lifted his hips to help you feel more. He knew exactly what your body was seeking out.

You poor thing, tears clouded your vision and moans dripped from your lips in time with the spittle.

Your legs were getting tired but you didn’t know how to tell him to switch off with you. Although, as you stared at him from beneath your teary lashes, you figured you didn’t have anything to be scared of. He was incredibly compliant all day, clearly he was more than willing to spend tens of thousands of dollars on you; so he better be okay with putting a little more work into the sex. You paused your movements as you willed courage to enter your body, and you opened your mouth, “I’m tired, lay me down.” Were you being too mean? You didn’t know, because he flipped you over and laid you down as soon as you told him to. He was kissing you and bending your legs at your sides to welcome his body between yours. The couch was small, Satoru’s figure was huge, you didn’t think it was going to work but he was going to make it.

“Anything for you, beautiful. Want me to fuck you?” You nodded your pretty head, and reached your arms around his neck to pull him down and kiss him again. His eyes widened at how openly affectionate the gesture was, and he eagerly leaned into you.You realized you could get addicted to the feeling of him, but didn’t care at the moment what that could mean for the future. Why think about complicated things, when you could unpack everything later? Right now though, you had to feel him inside of you again.

As if sensing your thoughts, he pushed inside again. Snapped his hips and hit a spot that had your back arch off of the couch. You gasped loudly and the most beautiful noises left your mouth. He’d never heard anything like this through the walls, you sounded truly eager.

“Feels good?” He’d never heard your ex ask you that before, and you drew your eyebrows inwards at his question. You found it strange, it made you uncomfortable to talk during intercourse but you guess you could try for him.

“I-isn’t it obvious? Go ahead and move your hips.” You turned your furiously hot face into the cushioned seat of your couch. Tried to cover your expression as best as you could given that you were manhandled and folded into a pretzel. He could see it all though, the golden glow from your cracked blinds and the beating sun outside provided him with enough light in your dim apartment. He saw the sweat that dripped down both of your bodies. Was captivated by your perfect tits that rose and fell with every labored breath you took. Your cute crinkled tummy. Thick stretch mark kissed thighs. It was breathtaking, you were gorgeous, he'd never seen anyone so mesmerizing.

His movements were long and deep, hard when you met in the middle, a sticky squelching sound smacked between the both of you upon impact. As he slid away, thick strands of arousal trailed between your bodies to keep you connected. It was like your pussy just didn’t want to part with him.

Your mind was in a foggy daze, you still couldn’t believe that this was happening. Was the feeling that spread throughout your body so great because it was your first time without a condom? Or was he really just that good at what he was doing? When he sneaked one of his hands between your legs to tease your clit and you felt the hardness inside of you throb in time with your pulsing; you came to the conclusion that it was both.

“H-hey, you’re clean right?” There was no point in asking so far into the game, but you figured you might as well try to be a little responsible.

“Yeah, want me to pull out the results from my last visit?”

“N-no don’t pull out!”

“No I meant-!” You pulled him by the back of his neck to crash his jumbled words against your wet lips. You could take his word for it and worry about the consequences later, it was good enough for you. You didn’t want anything interrupting either of you, you felt too good and by the looks of things he did as well.

Your bodies made a crashing melody throughout your apartment, your voices harmonized as you panted against each other and moaned when it felt too good. His mouth ran a mile a minute, sweet praises that you didn’t want to hear because it was incredibly embarrassing but you couldn’t get him to shut the hell up.

“This feels amazing, you’re the best!” followed by a loud moan and a harsh thrust into you.

“God baby, you’re so tight, you’re so beautiful, I think I’m in love!” followed by another loud moan and an even harder thrust.

“Jesus Christ, I’m losing my mind, is this good for you? Mmmn. Do you like it? God, I’m in love with this pussy!” He enunciated each sentence with a deep thrust as punctuation. You slapped your hand against his mouth, but he wouldn’t stop his deranged mumbling beneath it. You squeezed your eyes shut, you felt that familiar burning at your core and the tensing of your lower half. You were close, and you realized as you almost succumbed to that white hot pleasure, that you were definitely ruining your couch.

“I’m gonna cum, don’t stop, ngh.” You whispered into the air, pulled at his snowy tresses, scraped against his sensitive scalp and he saw stars.

“Are you insane, I couldn’t stop even if God himself tried pulling me off of you. You wanna cum all over me? Do it, I’m begging you to cum for me!” He had a crazed look inside of his bright pooling eyes. How was he so rough yet so gentle? He treated you with care, rubbed your plush sides, pawed at your breasts, nuzzled his nose against your cheek; but his pace was brutal and his hips were relentless. You felt like you’d be bruised before long, which he’d also make up for later. “Shit, c’mon.” His movements slowed momentarily, but didn’t fully stop, it was just so he could focus on your aching clit. Your moans grew in pitch, your tits bounced in time with his thrusts, and god the way his fingers moved against your sensitive bud. It was all too much.

“Ngh! M’gonna cum! I’m cumming, Satoru, fuck!” Crystal drops sprayed against his abdomen, and he moaned like he was the one reaching his high. It was like you’d given him his own sparkling jewelry, and he was more than happy to wear it for you. He frantically nodded his head, brutally continued to rub against your heightened stimulus, and more of that sweet liquid diamond trickled out of you. It was a sight to behold, he’d burn it to the back of his eyelids if his body would allow it.

“That’s it, ngh, just like that.” Finally, his hips snapped into you at that same unforgiving pace as before, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You’d never felt that sensation before, you’d certainly never orgasmed during the act either. With heavy breaths you watched where the two of you connected, your eyes were half lidded with unbridled lust, and your hands hesitantly reached out to trace his chest. Was that okay? Were you allowed to touch him there? “Touch me, please. Wherever you want.” He begged you, as if sensing what you were thinking. And you indulged, scraped your manicured nails against his nipples lightly, traced your fingers down his stomach and across his toned muscles. He was an Adonis among men, you’d have to admit. He gasped and moaned, “Ugh, feels good, fuck. Can I cum inside, please?”

“I-I guess that’d be okay. L-lay down.” You told him, and just like before he didn’t hesitate to maneuver into the position you wanted. If you wanted to be on top again, then that’s what you’d get. You stared down at him as your breaths caught up with each other, his red face and sweat-dripped hair seemed to make him more beautiful. You’d never ridden someone before today, you weren’t sure you were even good at it. But he looked positively divine and so clearly fucked out that you just had to take at least a little of the control back.

You placed your hand on his broad and perfectly sculpted chest as he laid flat against your couch. Experimentally you lifted your aching hips up higher than your last position would’ve allowed, and then heavily dropped yourself down onto his throbbing length. His cock cried inside of you, precum shot out at the sensation of your gripping and pulsing walls. The new position had him so much deeper, you could practically feel him up to your throat.

It continued like that, your hands on his chest and chunky thighs encapsulating him, your plump backside loudly slapping against his skin as you dropped down. “If I’m heavy, speak up now, I don’t want to hurt you.” Your voice was soft and low, you subconsciously pouted as if you knew what he’d say to you. You tried to be mindful of your full weight but as your body got comfortable it’d be harder to control. A terrible blush broke out across your cheeks again, and you bit your pretty spit covered lips in nervousness as you waited for him to tell you to get off.

His hands gripped your hips and plopped you harder onto him, you fell against his chest with your full weight and he moaned again.

“This is perfect, you feel perfect, I love your body on top of mine.” He praised, and you stared into his crazed eyes bewildered. Was he really telling the truth? His hips snapped up into you again, and you nervously lifted and dropped back down to meet him. Your body felt fuzzy, your nose tingled, your mouth craved his so you kissed him. You licked his lips, grabbed his face to open his mouth and he eagerly waited for your next move. “Wanna choke me?”

“W-what?” You became instantly flustered, where did that come from? You just thought his glossy pink lips looked appetizing, and wanted to sneak a quick taste. What was this about choking? He grabbed one of your hands from where it leveraged support, and brought it up to his throat. Then he stuck his tongue out.

“Ahhh.” What were you supposed to do with that? You blinked down at him as your movements came to a gradual halt. He tipped his head back, kept his tongue out, and then took his free hand to where yours was around his throat. He applied just a bit of pressure, and his eyelids fluttered, his eyebrows drew further in. He was hoping you’d get the hint, and just spit in his mouth already. Although, as you leaned down, and experimentally licked his tongue, he was happy with that outcome. You squeezed his smooth throat just a little, used your other palm against his chest as support to move, and leaned down to kitten lick his tongue and face. “H-holy shit, don’t stop.” He said between kisses, “P-please.” He added, and you swirled yourself above him, sank onto him, and repeated every motion until he was seeing stars. “Oh my-I’m gonna cum. Can I cum, please? If you don’t stop I’m gonna cum inside, ah!” He was babbling, tears were in his eyes and you squeezed his throat just a tad bit harder. He gasped, and desperately bucked against you as said tears began to cascade from his ocean eyes and down his gorgeous face.

“Get on with it then, this is taking f-forever. If you’re going to cum, then do it just like this. I’m not about to clean you off of my tits. You already made me ruin my couch.” Your harsh words were cushioned with a sweet kiss to his spit slick lips. You weren’t going to tell him, but you really wanted him to cum inside, you didn’t want to separate yourself from him. You were on the pill, what was the harm in a little extra fun? Your eyes gazed down at his doll-like face, and you sent a short thanks up to god for letting your first creampie be with one of his many angels.

“Fuck, thank you! I’m gonna cum! I’m cumming inside!” His hands gripped you tight, slammed you down onto him so hard it knocked the wind out of you. The spot he knocked against inside made stars appear behind your eyes, and you came in time with him. “Mmm! Ah!” He continued to rut and buck as his hot load shot inside of you. There was so much that it bubbled and dripped down his length and onto his stomach instead. He’d happily clean that off of him, and he’d clean you too if you’d let him.

“Ah, ngh!” You cried against him, your heavy head finally fell to rest against his chest as you both came down from the intense session.

To your surprise, there wasn’t any post-nut clarity that hit you, just exhaustion. You were oddly fine with how things came to be, you were even okay with him scooping you up and navigating the both of you to your restroom. He rummaged through your linen closet right outside of the door, and made a noise of triumph when he found what he was looking for. He placed a towel onto the counter, and sat you on top of it so that the cold porcelain wouldn’t disturb you. You breathed deeply, and heavily as he wiped you down with a washcloth he found in the same closet. It was warm, and you opened your legs when he tapped your knee.

“Thank you.” Your quiet voice filled the silence, and he beamed down at you.

“Don’t thank me, I’m just doing what I should.” He brushed his thumb against your flushed cheek, and you turned your head to the side.

“If you want to stay over, you’re gonna have to buy us dinner.” You didn’t sound as demanding as you tried to appear, and he chuckled as you laid your head against his chest.

“Of course.”

“I don’t want a boyfriend.” As a quieter afterthought you mumbled against him, “Right now.” His deep laugh echoed throughout the quiet bathroom.

“That’s alright, I can be whatever you want me to be.”

“Even if I just want your wallet and dick?”

“Of course, I’d be happy to be your walking wallet. Sex would be nice too, but don’t think you have to put out.”

He could definitely live with that. Especially because he heard you, if all he had to do was wait for you to be ready for something more serious, then well, that wasn’t so bad. He’d been waiting this whole time for you to notice him, what would the harm be in just a little longer? He’d already made his mind up about you, he was going to win your heart, he was sure of it.

“Mind if I pay for your next set of nails, pretty girl? They’re in desperate need of some fixin’.”

“Mm, if you insist.” Your voice was sleepy, and you “angrily” mumbled out, “You made me ruin my couch.”

“I’ll replace that, too, baby doll.”

“Don’t call me that.” You cringed and pushed him away, he laughed again and brushed his nose against yours. He was so handsome, and sweet, what did he really want from you? What was he expecting to gain from all this? At this rate, you were sure you’d bleed his pockets dry. He reached his hand out to smooth down your mussed up hair.

“C’mon, let’s get cleaned up and then we can look at couches together.”

•

a/n: pls use a condom if u don’t know for sure if someone is clean or not, and pls make sure ur buying your jewelry from sustainably sourced shops 😭 ok so the next part will have a bit of a time skip, pls look forward to that! I should release around the same time next week :) please let me know what you thought, I’m open to all comments, questions or concerns!

[maxfriedss]

does this count as a whole fic??? maybe. am i really lazy and not wanting to title it??? absolutely. more baseball yuri brought to you by me and @volpeenthusiast

“i got it, alright?”

you sigh. this argument isn’t really helping as much as it should. it’s warm in new york—balmy to the point where you can feel your jersey sticking to you under your catchers gear. it doesn’t help that max is mad, and it definitely doesn’t help that it’s starting to spread to you slowly like molasses.

“i’m just telling you that your slider isn’t working as good against them,” you explain, eyes calm despite the scowl hidden underneath the leather of your glove. “try going down and away with a fastball, it’ll make them lock up and maybe we could actually get out of this inning.”

max’s eyes narrow, and if you weren’t so pissed you would find time to comment on how the flush against her cheeks compliment the cool green of her eyes.

“i don’t need help with my pitches.” she snaps back, face coated in irritation, the leather of her glove creaking under her tight grip.

“what do you think my job is, huh?” you huff, eyes narrowing just slightly. if you weren’t pissed—and in front of 30,000 people—you’d brush her hair back with the pads of your fingers. you don’t, now. maybe because she’d probably cower away if you did.

“i’m supposed to give you advice, that’s my job as your catcher.”

max lets out a scoff, eyes hardening as they drift towards the batters box.

”you’re supposed to catch the ball.” she states, tone flat and sharp.

she knows she’s being a dick, but the words are slipping past her tongue before she can even stop them, irritation rolling off of her in waves, her shoulders tense and stiff.

you don’t say anything, mostly because you can feel the presence of the home plate ump making his way towards you—presumably to tell you to hurry up and stop wasting everyone’s time.

“fine,” you murmur, teeth clamped down around a few choice words making the way to the tip of your mouth. “i’ll just catch.”

the words are biting, even to your own ears.

max is staring off somewhere behind you, green gaze trained on nothing in particular, her jaw locked in irritation.

”fine.”

if it had been any other day, max would’ve immediately felt sorry, her eyes would soften and she would probably apologize right then and there.

but it’s not any other day, and she doesn’t apologize, just grabs a baseball and pitches it with a bit more aggression than normal.

“they kept looking for the fastball.”

you don’t turn from where you’re seated in front of your locker—hair damp from your usual postgame shower. you had ended up losing 3-1, the frustration from max pooling down into your bat and overall performance.

“i know,” you mumble, tying the laces of your sneakers absentmindedly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at the sudden softness in her tone. you knew you were being a bit childish—max never got angry unless she was really bothered by something. but you just didn’t want to be the one bothering her.

max leans against the locker next to yours, the soft scent of rosehip and lemongrass filling up your senses in a way that’s almost overwhelming, it makes your head spin.

the room is silent, the rest of the team having left to enjoy whatever events they had planned, leaving you two alone.

”i didn’t help much.” she murmurs, and although her tone is soft, her words are as blunt as ever.

“no, you didn’t.”

max’s shoulders tense, a low sigh leaving her mouth as she leans against the metal even more, arms crossing over her chest, trying to ignore the way your words make her stomach twist.

“i know.”

her voice is low, green eyes locking on the grey of the locker in front of her, the sound of your shifting filling the room.

”i’m tired.”

the words are quiet, almost whispered.

“of me?” you murmur, voice shaky with something just on the cusp of vulnerability, and you have half a mind to scrub away the feeling of tears bubbling at the back of your throat.

“of myself.”

she can see the way your shoulders are tense, see the way you’re trying to hold yourself back, and something sharp twists around in her chest.

max reaches a hand out, gently catching your chin between her index finger and thumb, forcing you to look at her.

you’re already a mess, and just the simple touch of her skin against yours makes the lump in your throat grow.

something stings in the pit of her stomach at the sight. and it hurts that it’s her doing it.

max lets out a sigh, green eyes flickering over your face, searching for something she can’t find. her hand drops from your chin, fingers tangling with yours instead as she drops to a crouching position in front of you.

the position, as harmless as it is, is almost ironic in a way. max, a pitcher who always had the kneeling done for her, perched onto her knees like a god was standing in front of her. it’s intimate, and it’s just max in her entirety.

you attempt to blink away any oncoming tears, but it’s a losing battle when she settles herself in between your legs. you scrunch your nose up at the feeling of your chin trembling.

max takes a breath and cups your cheeks in her hands, forcing you to look at her without having to reach up.

she hates seeing you like this. it makes her feel like she’s sinking into a hole she can’t get out of.

she leans forward, forehead resting against yours, her lips brushing against the skin of your nose, and you can feel the way she’s holding herself back from pressing them against your own.

“don’t cry.”

the words are gentle, whispered against you, and you can feel the way her thumb brushes across the soft skin of your cheek, collecting the tears as they make their way down.

max pauses, and she’s looking at you like she thinks you’re about to run away from her. maybe you’re both scared in a way.

her head nuzzles into the crook of your neck, her warm breath fanning against your sensitive skin.

“i don’t…wanna mess you up.”

max can feel her throat bob with pent up emotion, the shakiness of your voice pooling in her chest.

the sound hurts something in her chest that she can’t quite place.

“you’re not messing me up.” she murmurs, lips mouthing at the skin of your throat, pressing soft, barely there kisses just to reassure you.

“wellsy doesn't make you this angry,” you whisper, lips curled down into a frown, tears gently rolling down your cheeks. “i make you angry.”

“i’m not angry, baby.” max mutters, the words branding themselves against your skin, teeth gently nipping at the sensitive flesh, a low hum leaving her mouth.

“you don’t make me angry.”

her fingers press harder against your cheeks, forcing eye contact, and you’re staring into a sea of green, the color almost enough to drown in.

“i’m angry at myself, not you.”

max’s gaze is soft as her hands slide to the nape of your neck, pulling you forward, chests resting together. her nose nuzzles against yours, lips brushing against your cheek in the ghost of a kiss.

”you’re all i have, i would never be mad at you.”

her voice is barely above a whisper, but you can hear the way it shakes.

“i’m the person behind the plate during all your losses,” you continue, leaning up into her touch anyway, lips pursed tightly. “everyone talks about us and how we’re not a good battery, and i just—“

max lets out a frustrated sigh, fingers gripping the skin of your neck almost impossibly tight.

“i know, baby, i know.”

she’s trying to calm you, trying to soothe the tension, but it’s not working.

”they don’t know anything.” she promises, pressing a clumsy kiss to a freckle splayed across your cheek.

her face is scrunched in contemplation, clearly angry at the thought of people spewing nonsense. at the thought of people thinking they know you. no one truly knows you. not like max.

but you’re tired.

you’re tired of the tension, tired of her snapping at you, tired of how it always ends up on you to fix this, tired of it always ending with kisses and touches on soft skin.

“i’m tired,” you whisper, a quiet confession that you weren’t sure you were even going to let past the tip of your tongue.

max’s fingers loosen their grip on the skin of your neck, her breath catching gently in her throat.

she lets out a shallow sigh, head tilting forward to rest on your shoulder, forehead pressing against the sensitive spot just below your collarbone.

it’s quiet for a moment, save for the sound of your breathing and the hum of the fans.

max’s voice is quiet when she finally speaks. “tired of me?”

“tired of myself.” you murmur, echoing her words back to her, eyes drifting shut, the warmth of her comforting you the slightest bit.

max lets out a soft huff through her nose, lips curling up slightly against you.

her teeth gently graze over the pulse point of your neck, nose nuzzling into the damp skin, her breath is hot against you.

“we’re a lot alike, aren’t we?”

you don’t respond, eyes closing even tighter as one of your hands instinctively reaches up to grip the thick hair at the back of her neck.

“i guess that’s why we work.”

———

baseball yuri isnt real it can’t hurt you:

GAWDDDDD SHE IS IN MY BRAIN LIKE AN INFECTION @cowboylikejudge

[sirfrogsworth]

What did I do while suffering from an ear infection all last week?

I argued with a Trump supporting boomer @mtnman451.

Why?

My ear discomfort was so ever-present that I couldn't concentrate on anything for more than a minute or two. I was hopelessly bored. So I decided to see how long this guy would continue responding due to always needing to have the last word.

I almost gave up at one point.

He nearly tired me out.

But then he pulled me back in.

We started arguing about the kind of gun used in my dad's favorite movie, Quigley Down Under.

Just to be clear, I am posting this for one person. I am using my large platform to publicly show that someone on the internet was wrong. It will not make the world a better place. It is probably not great for my mental health. But sometimes you just gotta embrace the petty.

If you have no interest in a stupid internet argument, feel free to ignore this. But I really really needed to be correct about this. And I am letting my pettiness take the wheel and digging in to vent my frustrations about people who cannot ever be wrong on the internet.

Here is a little of the argument...

mtnman451 You know it's funny. You think you're so smart and are all happy about you're supposed "Gotcha Moment. Have you ever seen the movie "Quigley Down Under?" The lead character only uses a Sharp's rifle during the movie and the major antagonist gives him crap because Quigley doesn't seem to know how to use a Colt Revolver. I believe the exact thing Quigley says to the antagonist when asked about it is "Well Sir, I never had much use for one." At the end of the movie when Quigley takes out 3 men in a fair gunfight including the antagonist, Quigley walks up to him as he's on the ground, dying and looking shocked that he had just gotten shot and says "I said I never had much use for one. I never said I didn't know how to use it."

sirfrogsworth Quigley was actually my dad's favorite movie. I enjoyed it very much as well. But I'm afraid you are not shooting with the Shiloh Sharps or the Colt 1860 Army.

You are firing a toy cap gun, friend. All noise and no bullets.

You are angry, incoherent, and neither your arguments nor your insults make any sense.

mtnman451 you need to take another look at that movie because the Australians in "Quigley" weren't armed with 1860 Colt Army Revolvers. 1860 Colt Army Revolvers were .44 caliber and the revolvers used by The Australians were of a smaller caliber. If you knew your guns, you'd know that.

sirfrogsworth Elliot Marston (played by Alan Rickman) carried a .44 caliber Colt 1860 Army. He even refers to it as the "Army revolver" invented by "Col. Colt." He then places his identical "backup revolver" in Quigley's belt before the final duel.

I actually have an interest in antique guns and have always wanted to collect non-working replicas but never had the money. So I'm pretty sure I know the guns in my dad's favorite movie.

You are free to check the Internet Movie Firearms Database to verify.

mtnman451 Go back and watch the movie. He's not packing a .44. you want to see what a .44 looks like? Here you go.

sirfrogsworth Do you enjoy people making you look stupid?

Here is the photo you just shared overlaid on a still of Rickman's gun in the movie. It's the same fucking gun, dude.

mtnman451 Yes, it's exactly like this one. A .36 Caliber Colt.

sirfrogsworth The 1860 Army uses the same frame as the .36 caliber Navy model. In the movie he clearly says, "Are you familiar with the Army revolver, Mr. Quigley?" The film takes place around 1860 and he says it is a "recent invention of Colonel Colt."

mtnman451 hm. Same frame you say? No Shit sirfroggysgoneacourting. It's a wonder why those who don't know what they're talking about mistake the two, isn't it? Do you or your Dad own any black powder weapons? I do. Ever held the two in your hands? Seen them side by side? I have. Ever fired any black powder weapons? I have. I've fired more guns of every type from muzzle loading rifles, single action percussion cap pistols to semi automatic pistols and Class 3 Federally regulated firearms. Have you? It's possible but I highly doubt it.

sirfrogsworth So… you can't be wrong, can you? Like it is physically impossible. You just double and triple down and quadruple down?

If you can show any kind of evidence aside from "I know guns" then I'd be happy to reconsider. But it has to be actual evidence and not "I WAS PLAYING WITH GUNS BEFORE YOU WERE IN DiAPERS!"

I know you are super good at shooting things but I am super good at research. Either play in my sandbox and PROVE your claim or fuck off.

mtnman451 Oh I could be wrong but I'm not. Now while Tom Selleck served in The US Military and throughout his Film and TV career handled many different and powerful weapons like a .44 colt, if you recall he used The Remington Army .44 in "The Shadow Riders" where he played a Union Cavalry Officer to "Magnum P.I. where he used an ACP, that's the .45 Automatic Colt Pistol, btw. I don't think a bunch of British and Australian Actors such as the ones in "Quigley Down Under would have had as much experience handling pistols of that size as they pack a pretty Damn Big Kick. a .36 Caliber Colt would be much more manageable in the hands of a neophyte.

sirfrogsworth So, none of that is evidence. That is pure speculation. Your entire argument is that Alan Rickman wasn't man enough to fire a blank firing prop gun? That's silly. And does not prove anything at all.

Do you not understand what evidence is?

My evidence is the character said it was an Army. And online sources have verified it as the Army.

You just have vibes.

Even the Internet Movie Firearms Database thinks you are wrong. And they do solid research.

mtnman451 If you were so good at research, why didn't you just go here in the first place?

sirfrogsworth I TOLD YOU TO CHECK THAT SITE. That's where I learned about the gun years ago. In my very first reply I said, "You are free to check the Internet Movie Firearms Database to verify."

mtnman451 And yet the guy that's "Super Good" at research never posted it.

And now, some "Super Good" research...

I found the definitive difference between the .44 Colt Army and .36 Colt Navy revolvers.

Here is the cylinder of the .36 caliber Colt 1861 Navy that Mr. Mountain Man claimed was used in the movie.

Here is the cylinder of the .44 caliber Colt 1860 Army that I claimed was in the movie.

Please draw your attention to that seam in the cylinder. This was to account for the larger bullets.

Here is a scene from the movie where Alan Rickman's character is firing the revolver.

I've always wanted to do this...

I think of all the times I was correct, this is the most correct I have ever been.

Also, while the show's canon claimed Magnum P.I. used a .45 ACP Colt 1911, they had trouble finding blanks for it, so the prop gun was a 9mm.

I guess Tom Selleck didn't have to handle that really big kick after all.

Will Mr. Mountain Man 451 finally admit he was wrong and apologize for his overconfident firearms claims?

I eagerly await him changing the subject and never admitting his error.

Because it is the Trump way.

If you are wrong about something... no you aren't.

Just be louder and wronger until everyone gives up.

[simjakesgirl]

leech

a joel miller x reader series

click for series index

warnings: age difference, abusive relationships, sexual tension, slow burn, slow romance, angst, joel is reader’s dbf, no cordyceps outbreak, protective joel, joel is bad at feelings, eventual smut, (this chapter mentions loss, grief, and separation)

chapter two: forgive me

she took you in a warm embrace and you hugged her back, unintentionally locking eyes with joel as soon as your head went over her shoulder.

tags (comment if you want to be tagged next chapter!!): @dluteds

author's note: okay ik i took a year to write this i have so many things i wanna do now that i'm on break and i've started like 3 million projects omg but anyways i plan to do better.. i am determined to finish this series :p - sherri

your eyes cracked open slowly to the bright white sunlight coming through your thin curtains. you groaned and tried to cover your head with the sheets, but you were too conscious to fall back asleep and decided to succumb to the day. turning over to your nightstand, you grabbed your phone and instantly sat up when you saw the time. 12:30pm. it felt like it’d only been 2 or 3 hours since you fell asleep, but that was probably because it was.

you spent most of your time in bed thinking about james, occasionally the other girl, and unfortunately joel. you were so pissed off with how he acted like he never made mistakes before or as if he’s always been the model for perfection. he was a divorced, grumpy, old, hypocritical man that your dad somehow got along with enough for them to be as close as they were. it didn’t make any sense to you, but it probably would soon since he made it clear he’d be telling him about the ordeal. you decided if you were going to be yelled at, the sooner the better.

you made your way to the bathroom to wash up and crept down the staircase once you were finished, spotting your dad at the other end of the floor in the kitchen once you were almost to the bottom. he seemed to either be making coffee or just standing there. once he heard the creak in the last step, he turned around to face you and pressed his lips together in a thin smile. 

“hey kiddo, how was the party?” he asked, pulling a chair at the table and taking a seat.

you walked over and did the same, preparing yourself for whatever he’d say after you replied. 

“it was fine,” you lied while nodded your head. “nothing crazy.”

“well that’s good then. sorry i couldn’t wait up,” he added. “i’m past those days.”

he laughed a bit and you gave him a little smile, trying to hide your confusion. he would’ve confronted you by now if he knew anything, maybe joel did decide to keep your secret. either that or he forgot about it.

“are ya’ hungry? i can make you something,” he offered.

you nodded, not realizing how hungry you actually were until the topic of food came up. he nodded back and got up from the chair, making his way to the sink instead. he really had no idea about what happened. the last thing you expected was for joel to go back on his word, especially to his best friend. you wondered what changed his mind since it couldn’t have been your attitude. if anything you figured after that drama he’d feel more of a reason to tell your dad. maybe joel just realized there was no reason for him to attack you.

“oh, before i forget,” your dad started again, “we’re invited to the clarke’s later for their end of spring barbecue.” 

or maybe he would rather tell him in person. you quickly lifted your head to face your dad who was still busy at the sink. 

“for what?” you asked a bit louder than you intended.

“well you know it’s their annual thing,” he explained. “there a problem?”

“no i’m,” you quickly replied. “i’m just really tired from last night.”

“sorry kid, you gotta go. they only host one time the whole year, it’ll look bad.” 

you slowly lowered your head again, thinking about what the universe might have in store for you later. usually the annual barbecue at the clarke’s was something to look forward to since you got to hang out with your friends the whole day, but that was in high school. ever since you started college they seemed to not want anything to do with you. every time you tried to make contact with them, it just seemed bittersweet. it started to come off like they were better off without your company so you eventually just stopped trying.

of course, if their looks and whispers weren’t already enough, now you had joel on your back too and he wouldn’t miss a town event for the world. you assumed it was because there was always a shit ton of beer available, but maybe he was just a people person with a very odd way of showing it. his life had to be lonely anyways. 

he used live with his daughter, sarah and his ex-wife who you never really got to know. you were friends with sarah when you were younger since either joel or your dad would set you two up on playdates. it wasn’t really because they wanted you to be friends since she was a few years younger than you, but because they wanted to hang out. they were lucky you both became fond of each other as you grew and eventually best friends when you guys figured out what that was. sadly, when you were about 8 or 9, joel’s wife filed for a divorce. she claimed there was no communication in their relationship and tried to gain full custody of sarah. joel obviously didn’t like the idea, but when the battle went to court for custody, he lost. after that, his ex wife moved states away with her and he was unable to have contact with any of them no matter how hard he fought to find out where sarah might be. he said his wife set him up, or at least that’s all you can remember him saying that night over the phone with your dad. ever since then, he became a new person. you didn’t remember much of joel’s personality from when you were younger, but you remember feeling a shift ever since. 

everything happened when you were so young, you never got a chance to learn about the new him. your dad would always tell you he was still in there behind the hard outer shell, but you had your doubts. now you had no idea if you’d ever want to try and have any type of relationship with him. it felt better to stay away and that’s what you planned to do.

your dad left early to help the clarke’s set up while you hung back in your room and got ready. being alone again just made you think. james could be harsh, but you always figured it was because he loved you. you assumed he’d say rude things because he was afraid to lose you. you were sure he would’ve called you by now to make things right, but your phone remained drier than any desert. even though you wanted to, you decided that calling him might just make things worse. it really was over. you figured you may have jumped the gun on deciding that, but he and you both went to bed, woke up, and didn’t do anything to mend what you broke. what was done, was done. you had such a hard time coming to terms with everything. it wasn’t because you couldn’t see what was in front of you, but because you didn’t want to. 

when you met james, it was around the time your mother passed. you were a mess to say the least. you never had an appetite, your dad almost had to shove food down your throat or else you wouldn’t even bother to eat. when the night came, you would just lay there and think about what life would be like if she was still there. the only time you would actually sleep was when your body would pass out from exhaustion, but even then it didn’t feel like enough. the days went by painfully slow and quiet. no one had anything to say to you but "sorry" and if anything it made you feel worse. you didn't want to hear "sorry" or "she's in a better place" or have people treat you like a problem in need of fixing. you just wanted to live in your mind, not in reality. you could be with her forever in that way. then as days turned to months things began to fade from your memory. her laugh, her smile, her voice, her touch. you tried hard to grasp on to those things. you didn’t want to forget. it felt like if you forgot then you never cared about her in the first place. eventually you were barely a person, more like a shell.

your dad tried his hardest to be strong in front of you, but having you fall apart in front of his eyes brought more pain than he could imagine. you only realized how bad you truly got when you heard him praying for your healing one night. religion was never something you guys turned to in times of need, so it struck you hard when you saw him on the floor, praying between sobs. until that moment, you hadn't gave any thought to the fact that he was struggling too and probably worse than you. he just lost his wife and now felt like he was losing his daughter. the worst part of it all was you couldn't do much more than acknowledge his pain. you didn't know how to help him, you didn't even know how to help yourself.

it was a never ending spiral of pain that just seemed to get worse until you met james. he helped you move on, he showed you that there was more to life. there was something to live for in the end. you wouldn’t do smart things together, but you would do them together. as you began to heal, you stopped wanting to do crazy things. you wanted to be together in tranquility instead of chaos to prove how far you both came, but he didn’t want that. he thought you became boring, but the things he did didn’t appeal to you anymore. they only reminded you of how hurt you were. that’s when the divide began. you knew you were drifting apart, but without him you felt like you might sink again, so you tried to hold on. turns out it was useless, in the end you’d always be on your own. you just had to learn how to be now.

you ended up wearing a basic outfit along with a pair of boots since the clarke's owned a large span of land with its fair share of dirt and mud. you could thank their farm animals for that, the rickety wooden fence never stopped them from getting out. you made your way out of your house, taking some deep breaths before walking over. you'd probably be over there past sunset since it was already close, but you had to just do your best to make it through. the clarke's lived only a street down from your house which wasn't a long walk at all. surely not enough time for you to prepare for anything major. there wasn't enough time in the world for that.

as you got closer you could see who was already there. it seemed to be just some older people, unfortunately some of your old friends and their families, and also some young couples that were new to the area so far. as you secretly watched everyone, a red and brown flannel caught your attention. joel miller of course, your dad right next to him. you held your breath thinking about what in the world they could be talking about and hurried to the front of the house so they wouldn't see you walking down the street. taking a few more deep breaths, you creeped back to the gate's entrance and unlocked it swiftly before a gust of wind decided to slam it shut just as you got through. shit. you knew that definitely caught everyone's attention. you slowly turned around to a few people smiling earnestly at you and other's not paying attention.

"gosh it's like when someone opens that thing the lord forces it shut again," mrs. clarke laughed while making her way to you. "it's been doing it all day, don't worry."

she took you in a warm embrace and you hugged her back, unintentionally locking eyes with joel as soon as your head went over her shoulder. you quickly looked away and back at mrs. clarke as she went on about how everyone looked so grown up.

"well let me not keep ya' too long, go catch up with your friends!" she exclaimed, resting a hand against your back and then going back to mr. clarke who gave you a short wave.

you sucked in a breath when you saw your dad in the corner of your eye gesturing for you to go to him, joel still there. you slowly made your way over, standing by your dad's side as joel stood opposite to you both. along with the flannel, he wore darker washed jeans, different but equally dirty work boots as the ones from yesterday, and a classic watch.

"now when was the last time you've seen each other," your dad asked, clearly oblivious. "probably been ages."

you forced a laugh, your hand coming to the opposite arm awkwardly.

"yeah she's all grown up huh," joel replied.

you looked up quickly for one second to see his face, but it was unreadable. for some reason it felt like he was trying to take a jab at you with that line. he and your dad continued to make small talk, but you couldn't think of a singular thing to say. you kept thinking eventually joel would slip and mention something, but he seemed to be picking his words very carefully. every once in a while his eyes would skim your face, but no part of him was letting up what he could be thinking. you on the other hand could probably be read like an open book. you were almost sweating and generally afraid to move incase that drew any more attention to you.

"i think i'm going to get something," your dad said after a bit, laying a hand on your shoulder. "i'll get you something too okay?"

you just nodded and smiled at him to which he smiled back.

"keep joel company while i'm gone," he smiled before walking away.

you slowly turned to joel, pressing your lips together in a thin awkward smile. he jerked his chin to gesture to something behind you.

"wanna sit? your dad'll find us." he spoke in a lighter tone of voice than earlier.

"oh okay," you replied a bit quieter than intended and took the seat across from him.

you didn't even realize you'd been holding your breath until you decided to try and relax yourself. you knew joel could tell you were nervous the way he eyed you. a hand came to his beard before he leaned back into the chair and let out a big sigh.

"look," he began "about this mornin'. i'm not gonna tell your dad anything."

you looked at him a bit stunned at the sudden change.

"i just hope you know that's not how a real man treats a girl," he continued. "you are smart enough to know that, right?"

another jab. you looked down to the table for a minute before looking back to him and nodding. of course you knew that, it was just hard to accept.

"it's none of my business like you said, but i don't wanna make it so you don't have anyone to talk to. i think if ya' had someone other than your dad you wouldn't have let it go on so long."

he spoke in such a different demeanor you could almost believe joel from that morning was an entirely different person. his words made you feel a pang of loneliness though. you sort of did only have your dad and it bothered you a bit, but you couldn't fully open up to just anyone. letting someone into your mind just made you feel vulnerable. if someone saw what was in there, they might change their mind about you and you couldn’t handle that especially under your current circumstance with james. you let him in and he left you.

joel noticed your silence. he tried to read your face to see what you might be thinking about, but he got no leads. he obviously didn’t have much experience helping people through breakups. he was a contractor, not a therapist, but something made him want to help you. after seeing what went down with his own eyes and knowing that your dad, your main support, had no idea, he felt like he had to step up.

“okay kid well,” you met his eyes again, “if you’re needing help or somethin’ in the future, can’t talk to your dad, you can give me a yell.”

it came out all awkward, but you knew what he was trying to say. maybe that morning was a bad time for him because suddenly your feelings for joel flipped all over again. you felt like maybe he really could be someone to trust, but obviously you’d need more to go off of before completely deciding that. you gave him a short smile and nodded again, your dad making his way to the table at the perfect time.

the night carried on as normal and you could probably say you even enjoyed yourself. being at college, you forgot how much you missed calm parties where all you really did was catch up on other people's lives and eat. of course there were moments when you felt out of place though. especially when you saw all your old friends together meanwhile you sat next to your dad, but you tried to think positively. they were probably just talking about the same old things they always did anyways. at least you realized they'd never change. things between you and joel also didn't progress anymore throughout the night. you would say a few words to each other about some unimportant topic your dad would try and include you in and that was about it, but you were fine with that. you didn't want to push it.

as the night came to an end and everyone began leaving, your dad took the liberty of cleaning the table you guys sat at which left you with joel again. he looked around awkwardly before grabbing his phone from his pocket and sighing.

"well, tell your dad i said good night," he said after a bit. "and don't forget what i told you."

"yeah i will and thanks," you replied, trying not to talk too loud.

joel just gave you a nod before fishing his keys from his pocket and going out the gate. wether you would ever call him for anything, you had no idea. you were still a little skeptical about the whole situation, but it was nice to know that he could also be there for you. less stress on your dad to play all the characters in your life and one less thing to worry about in the grand scheme of it all...hopefully.

[charmallows]

ok can i be mean and complain a little bit. i'm really really really tired of deltarune fans who started trying to deconstruct the entire game's story off of two chapters worth of information and have since thoroughly convinced themselves that Their interpretation of what they Think is right and what they Think will happen is toby's precise vision. i'm like genuinely so sick of deltarune theoryheads jumping to conclusion after conclusion and come out of it feeling a sense of superiority over the people who Just Don't Get It. i'm tired of "real" deltarune fans telling people how they should feel and what the game is Actually about. i'm tired of people acting like they know everything. ever since chapter 2 came out this issue has been boiling and boiling and i dont know man deltarune means A LOT to me so maybe im just over sensitive about it. but for years this fan space has felt unwelcoming and discouraging to anyone who isn't so Adamant on puzzling out the answers to a game that cannot be Solved. it's these elitist unreceptive people who say shit like this because they believe theyre Obligated to something more that they expected for themselves. am i making any sense. can anyone hear me. a sizaeble chunk of deltarune fans are obsessed with setting themselves up for disappointment rather than letting the story tell itself and it leads to shit like This Take. the mere SUGGESTION that chapter 3 is somehow unnecessary is absolutely ridiculous

what do you mean utdrtwt is calling chapter 3 "filler". where am i

[sunshinereani]

It's so interesting to me that everything to Tr!Ros is seen through the eyes of whether someone does or does not "deserve" what's happening to them. She's said it so many times today alone.

Sure we can argue til the cows come home about whether or not Tr!Aimsey deserves to have their memories potentially messed with or deals made - but it's not about deserving it (or not).

Consequences don't happen because you deserved them. They happen because of actions.

[simplydnp]

whenever i watch phil’s daring advice videos i realize he is really against overtly jealous boyfriends, do you think dan is better with jealousy these past few years? do you think he used to be bad with it?

dan has, in the past, referred to himself as jealous. in my opinion, he's also very bad at hiding it.

i'd have to go back to specific segments, but the advice phil generally gives is more about excessive/controlling jealousy. the type where red flags are popping up continually. for the people receiving advice, it might just be a conversation they have to have, or they might have to call it.

i think it's up to dnp with how they deal with it. clearly, it isn't the same as situations presented by viewers, otherwise his advice would be different. i think there's a few points of interest around this all.

if we're looking back to the beginning: dan is 18. he's young, his brain isn't fully developed, he had a difficult childhood. stability is not something he knew. so to meet phil, with all his awkward emo rizz and close relationship with his family--it's natural to want to hold onto it. i can completely understand any jealousy from that point in time, because it comes from fear. it's rooted in insecurity and instability. all he wants is this one thing, why does everyone else have to want it too? but he knows exactly why people want phil--it's why he does! he does seem aware of it, as the quote i mentioned earlier does come from the early years. but it doesn't mean he could stop it from coming out. and i don't really think he wanted to, at that point. (this did change)

there's a secondary participant in this though too. someone who saw all his flaws and loved him anyway, loved him despite them, and loved him because of them. if there's one thing you know about phil lester, it's that he loves dan. and has for a very, very long time. from what we've seen, in the early days, phil liked a jealous dan. there clearly wasn't a discussion about stopping it. it's nice to be wanted. to be seen. instead of just tolerated by your peers. one of the things he'd do would be invite dan in when he felt jealous, or when he could feel jealous later. dan should be a youtuber too. then they can do this together. and it's not to say any or all of their career decisions were based on jealousy. but i do think it played a role. because they know each other too well to simply ignore it. (but i also think it'd unconscious for phil, sometimes).

but as the years go, they had to 'clean up' their image for radio. they put themselves into boxes and those boxes weren't supposed to have jealousy in them because it's too real. but of course it came anyway. and phil is not as innocent in this as you may think.

the second thing you know about phil lester is that he loves to rile dan up. he loves when dan gets snarky and wordy and dramatic. he loves the outbursts and the swearing and the enthusiasm in it all. he loves that dan feels things and acts on them. so he... pokes the bear sometimes. cause it's fun.

in the next years, there was both more and less jealously. less because of their Straight branding, and therefore pushing anything like that down. more because of 'phil trash #1' becoming part of their brand. and it's never really gone away--cause it's true. dan could suddenly be jealous or fond on main again and it could be played off. so it happened more. but also, they were successful now. secure, in so many ways.

if you see jealousy now it's very evident that dan's trying to hide it. it's just as bad as it used to be, if not worse. cause he's allowed to be jealous now, and is out of practice of hiding it. and i honestly don't think they care that much anymore. he fights it back cause he doesn't want to say it at times, but it's different now. and phil can still tell anyway, cause he loves pushing dan's buttons.

in terms of phil giving advice, i'd say it's more about finding someone who is compatible with you, and loves you for you: the things you do, the words you say, the person you are. dan and phil live in an existence of constantly affirming each other, and they probably don't think about it since it comes so naturally to them. they are on the same page. there's trust and love there. phil knows why dan gets jealous. but he isn't going anywhere. and he knows dan knows that too. so it's kind of fun to play into it all.

[non-un-topo]

More cishet observations from the past month at work:

- They really fucking buzz off of the TERF wizard book series

- Their favourite place on Earth is Florida (why???)

- If you tell them you're an artist, they will ask you if you've ever "tried out AI"

- They will joke about OCD a lot

- They absolutely hate their bodies and will take any opportunity to talk about food in a toxic way (bonus points if they compare their body/food to yours)

- They hate their spouses and think that this is funny

- They. Do not. Have interests. (Besides the TERF wizard book series)

- They don't watch movies or TV??

- If they have kids, the way they talk about them makes it sound like it was genuinely the worst decision they ever made

- If they don't have kids, they will still fucking talk about having them

- They don't like cats??

In other weird news, I'm gendered correctly at work and I pass to the point that cishets actually talk to me like I'm a cishet guy.

[emberunderscore]

Icarus gets the fuckig hug (so i can sleep peacefully)

"Do you want a hug?"

The question caught them off guard. They weren't expecting that. They weren't really expecting any of this conversation to go the way it has. They weren't expecting Rae to even be there today.

They knew the answer, of course. They couldn't remember the last time they'd been hugged. But the thoughts ate away at their mind, telling them that they didn't deserve a hug. Especially not from Rae, and yet here he was. Telling them he missed them, he loves them. Offering that hug. That human contact. Something so simple, so basic yet something they craved so deeply.

"y- yeah... please"

They took a hesitant step towards Rae and he closed the rest of the distance. He wrapped his arms around them and they melted into his embrace. They didn't know what to do with their hands, so they remained awkwardly standing there as their brother held them. He was crying. They were trying so hard not to.

They missed him, too.

[wildmrmix]

12:30 I’m here to spread some Curly Johnny Ponyboy friendship based on what I used to do with old friends.

They’re all pretty chill with affection, especially with those they’re comfortable with. So sometimes they’ll go down to the lot and Ponyboy will lean against Johnny, and Curly will just… stand there before eventually sitting on Pb’s other side and very slowly start to lean against him as well (he will deny purposefully initiating any kind of affection till his last breath). And then they all just talk absolute trash about people. 3 boys alone for hours what will they do: make fun of people. Sometimes it’s strangers, sometimes it’s people from their school, sometimes it’s other buddies; nobody’s safe.

Sometimes Curly’ll come by the lot just to see if Ponyboy’s there yet, though he doesn’t just ditch if it’s only Johnny. I mean, he did, but then it got kind of weird to interact with the guy you very obviously ignored a handful of times. Those two are awkward as hell without Ponyboy being their middle ground in conversations, but they become actually acquainted with the other through these accidental lot-meetups. At least, as much as you can with how quiet Johnny is

On weekends, sometimes they try to push the curfew and go out to places like the Dingo, or the park, or sometimes they simply walk around for a while after dark. They make fun of and poke at and tease each other, sometimes giving out stupid dares just for laughs. And sometimes they will all just sit and smoke, ranting about their problems not because they’re inherently overwhelming at the moment, but because the others will listen.

During lunch periods, if Curly’s set on the idea enough, he’ll get Ponyboy and Johnny to ditch for a bit and they go off behind the school building to waste the period away. One time they walked off and found a storage/ water tank some ways away and they climbed onto it. Curly lost a ring on it and they ended up spending the rest of their time there trying and failing to find and grab it.

[hibernating-stag]

It's definitely more building on the events of my fic than anything that implied in canon, but I still really like the idea that Robo-Ky and Venom were living in a skeleton of an apartment while the bakery was taking off and it slowly gets filled with more furniture and personal effects as time goes on.

I think it might take a bit for it to properly sink in that the bakery someone else's home that they happen to live in. It's theirs and theirs to do what they want with it and that gets reflected in how it looks, yk (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑) ?

[two-entire-bits]

everyone needs to become aroace for a week and interact with fandom and maybe it will fix some of y'all

[turnedpalefromlackofsun]

i wrote a fanfic

[lesbiansanemi]

Currently trying not to vomit over the fact that I essentially just lost almost a thousand dollars brb

[icewindandboringhorror]

... why he sit like this

[liuisi]

Is ir okay to not feel it as a christian if youre still doing it? If i read the word and do what it says, but i never feel. the feelings. Is it normal? I feel so lost. Ive prayed so much.

hi!! i'm going to assume this question is coming from this post of mine. if its not sorry but i hope my answer still stands!

my point in that post is that it's not all about feeling the feelings. honestly, i would say that usually, Feeling Strong Emotion/being overtaken by emotion over it is something that is not necessarily common. of course, it depends on the person. some people are just Strong Feelers but that's not everyone! (i am not one of these people, for example).

if you don't Always Feel The Supernatural Presence Of God and you don't feel emotional every time you think about the Lord, or whatever standard you want to set, that's not an indicator of your faith. (or if you're truly saved.)

what's important is knowing. and believing. do you truly Know And Believe that the Lord Jesus, the Son of God, died on the cross for your sins? do you Know and Believe that the God of the Bible is real? that He created the world and everything in it? that He sent His only begotten Son to die out of love for us?

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Hebrews 11:1

that's what's important!!!! not if you cry during worship or if a sermon touches you. not Feeling A Supernatural Presence. if you know God is with you always, then you don't need to feel it for proof. you know it. you have faith.

modern-day christian culture has turned christianity into solely something you Feel. big displays of emotions during worship, people talking about visions and speaking in tongues and being filled by the Holy Spirit, etc. (this attitude has also led to the culture of "if i don't feel that the Lord is telling me that this is wrong, or if i feel that the Lord is telling me that this is okay, then it is.) but you can't rely on your feelings.

"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?" Jeremiah 17:9

you want to hear God speak? you open your Bible. it's Literally God's word. everything you need to Know about God and how you should live your life is in there.

basically: anon, lack of Strong Emotion over living the faith does not mean that you're doing something wrong. however! i want to cover all my bases, just to be sure. you mention "reading the word and doing what it says". you might already know this, but being a christian isn't just about acts or works. the entire point of the gospel is that we cannot be saved through what we do, only through faith. it goes back to what i was saying about faith earlier on. if you find yourself treating this life like a checklist, like a "i'll do this, and this, and this, and then God will help me/love me", then that might be something to meditate about.

"For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast." Ephesians 2:8-9