#like i feel shame for not finding some women attractive why is that

[kiras-monkey-bum-face]

where's the love for the average lesbians (me)? you know the ones that are too masc to be considered femme but too femme to be considered masc (still me)? the lesbians that don't want to move fast and can't stand the idea of dating apps because they just favour the conventionally attractive (also me). where's the love for the lesbians that dont want to fall into a stereotype catagory and just want to exist (I'm talking about me)

[clitorphosis]

PINK CELLPHONE

Incel Leon S. Kennedy x OnlyFans reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, INCEST, smut, female reader, reader is a little bit mean, creampie, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, teasing, Leon is submissive, nipple play, tits sucking.

notes: uhm, i didnt proofread this so... i want to remind you that english isnt my first language :3 also i imagined re2 og Leon, but whatever! also reblogs and any kind of feedback is really appreciated

tags: @withonly-sweetheart

There was something fundamentally wrong with Leon in female’s gaze.

Maybe he is unlucky or those girls are blind. Really hoping it is the latter, cause it is not flattering when guys with migrated hairline can get cute girls, while he can’t. And 4chan doesn’t help either, those advices aren’t useful when he can’t even talk to a real girl.

Yes, they are blind. He is going to set on that.

So after many years of solitude, his only company has become the blue gleam which most night was the only source of light in the room, while air was full with low noises coming from the old, poor laptop. Trying to survive after years of not being turned off correctly. Multiple tabs on his laptop’s screen, he doesn’t bother to close them anymore, hoarding them like some kind of treasure - Leon doesn’t give a shit anymore.

This century is perfect for a man like Leon, internet may be the second Library of Alexandria. A real paradise, so much colorful and vibrant sites with cute girls showing their bodies if he pays for that content.

Thank god Onlyfans exists. And he is a nice guy, supporting cute and sexy girls.

Paying for limited content can be considered as supporting women, right? Even if he was motivated due to his selfish reasons - to get attention and limited content. Something special for him. It was embarrassing how long he could browse a fair share of accounts and get or even interact with some girls without being rejected and they would not know him. There are a lot of them, all cute and nice, and they acted even better when he tipped them, so they would interact more with him, calling him a ‘pretty boy’. At least it made him feel special for a while. Still, not his fault that their, too perfect, videos or photos led him to lose his interest - their content felt lifeless, without passion or love put in it. Boring. It has become a routine already, finding an account - jerking off until he loses his interest and the cycle returns to browsing the site for someone new to obsess over.

Your account was like a treasure when he found it. Leon got attracted to it like a magnet, comparable to find a needle in the haystack. Sweet thing, really sweet, if he was ever to interact with you he wouldn’t be able to hide his grimace. But that was attracting, he doesn’t know how much money he has spent on your content. Your face was always hidden or cut out by the position of your camera, but there was no need to see your face when people paid to jerk off.

It was nice while it lasted.

Pink cellphone. The little pink cellphone he got his sister, after she nagged him about wanting it, that ended up left alone and not used. You have this pink cellphone, the furniture and a lot of things were identical to his little sister’s room; posters of her favorite bands or that specific blanket she had all her life, but this was quickly brushed off at first, almost all girls like cute stuff and this could be a coincidence. Also that not the first thing a guy notices when he is ready to jerk off. Leon isn’t sure why after seeing that pink cellphone it clicked so quickly, the guilt and shame fill him to the brim, coiling around his neck like a loose invisible tie knot.

This is wrong, wrong like touching his sister’s breast. Your breast. Instead, he was jerking off to your boobs for months. Imagining how they would fill his palms nicely.

The room is the same as before, but now it hits different to be here after discovering what you have been doing here all this time. It has the same smell as always, sweet and too much like you, tightening the invisible knot around his neck. He wants to throw himself out of the window, this is sick and he doesn’t understand why his legs brought him here after work, still wearing his uniform. There are plenty of almost empty and few full bottles of perfume he had bought you during one of shopping trips, while you were nagging him and begging for them. He eyes such little and useless items that in any other situations he wouldn’t notice, avoiding to look at you. His efforts were useless, he is a weak man after all and there is nothing to do other than to stare at your frame; sitting on the bed, confused at his behavior and expecting something - a reason to explain why he is acting like that, staring at you, almost fucking you with his eyes. He doesn’t need Freud to tell him that he wants to fuck his own sister. Were you preparing to do new content for your followers? The thought made his pants tighter, wanting to pull at the fabric to ease it but this would only bring your attention, wouldn’t it? Maybe he wants it.

“You look like shit.”

“Excuse me?” Did he hear that right?

“You look like shit, Leon” you repeat before raising an eyebrow “stop staring, you are going to dig holes into my face. What do you want?”

What a bitch, he would say, but,

“Uhm…” is the only sound he was able to let out, getting closer to your bed and sitting down on the edge. You scoot closer to him as you always do. A sweet habit he always liked, sometimes you even hug him. “Not lady-like, sweetheart. I wanted to talk”

You roll your eyes. “About what?”

“A friend of mine, he sent me a link of a girl, doing porn” his lies flow so fast and easily from his mouth, trying to shift this to someone non existent. “Her face isn’t visible but… her room and she had a pink cellphone, identical to yours… so I was wondering—“

“Maybe you are imagining things. Many girls have similar room to mine” you cut him, your hand lays on his shoulder. Perhaps this is hell, hell would feel like you mock him by pretending that account isn’t you, like those moans he heard weren’t yours while a guy or a dildo was pleasing you, making Leon envious and sour - why not him? The corners of your lips tug up, something good got into your head. “So you are paying for that stuff, huh? Jerking off to a girl similar to your little sister, you are so weird”

“Huh? No, I am not” Yes, he is, that’s actually his favorite hobby.

“Cut the crap, Leon. There is no friend. You probably imagined me, yeah?” He did, he won’t deny this - it would be a lie leading to another rejection, this time by his sister - and he is man, a desperate one. Also poker has never been his strong point nor he can lie well with his hard on. “Nasty, nasty boy”

His blue eyes linger on your mouth as you spoke, watching your tongue rolled sensually and slowly. Your tongue clicks, before applying more pressure on his shoulder with your hand, pushing him down. He is like a rag doll under your touch - his back hits the softness of your bed and now all he can see is your face looking down at Leon before finally sliding on his lap. Your legs straddle his hips, so nicely pressing down on his crotch and making this much harder than it should be. His cock is already painfully hard, straining against the warmth of your pussy which can be felt through thin fabric of your shorts. God bless them. He bucks up his hips, as his hands reach to hold your hips and press them harder against his aching cock while he tries to dryhump you needy - too bad that’s not on your list, slapping away his hands like it is a disturbance which makes him frown.

“Ah-ah, big bro. Don’t touch me” you purr as your head dips lower to press hot heated kiss on the skin of his neck, leaving soft bites and wet trail behind whilst your tongue traces around those bites, like a soothing touch before it starts going up down and up in torturous motions. Until you stop on his Adam’s apple to bite it softly to leave a red spot, your hands dive under his shirt, pushing it up to expose his stomach and making it easier to reach his chest - fingertips brush against his nipples, before rolling and pinch them to force more moans from him. A grown man getting already painfully hot and bothered over little touches and kisses there and then, this causes you to chuckle under your breath - don’t want to hear him complain how you hurt his ego. Man’s ego is more fragile than soap bubbles or the glass, one poke and he would not shut up and fuck your brain instead of your pussy. That won’t do. Your eyes dart up to look into his face - to see that sweet and needy expression, begging more than just teasing caresses from you. Your hips sit so well against his, sometimes creating some friction when one of you move and it feels like he is going to die if his dick won’t be buried in your pussy any time soon.

“I don’t like dirty hands on me” you add eventually with the same purring voice. What can be better than a man being submissive and shattering over nothing?

“Can you just… oh shit!” his sentence gets cut abruptly, when your lips reach to his earlobe, nibbling playfully and it would be really humiliating if he cum here cause of how his ears are sensible. Deep inhale, before speaking again, trying to keep himself at check and not to be so meek while you keep rolling his sensitive nipples in between your fingers. His next words are breathless and voice is shaky, almost at the edge to sound pathetically. Not really manly, but still your clit throbs, only now noticing how your panties are soaked now, uncomfortably clinging to your pussy lips. “…fuck me?”

You stop your assault over the skin of his neck to look down at him better, your hips press against his hard dick forcing a breathless whimper to escape. This little plea, he begs. Your clit throbs again, so uncomfortably wet, you want to dryhump him until he cum in his jeans like a virgin. Instead, he is one. If he was any other men you wouldn’t consider this good enough to comply but the sight in front of you is too much to ignore.

“Fuck.. you?” You echo his words, feigning a confusion, your eyes widen to emphasize the act. A cheap one, cause your hand already tugged down your shorts, leaving you in panties, he has seen them so many time on those videos and photos, his hips buck to press himself to your, still, clothed pussy. His attempt isn’t really successful, your hand unzips his jeans to free his cock. And finally to look at it. “you are so weird… I dunno, to ask that from me, don’t you have any shame in this body of yours, huh?”

“I don’t give a shit, just fuck me” he groans, looking down as you palm his cock, it twitches in your hand, already leaking with pre-cum and you can even notice a little stain on his boxers.

A light urge to roll your eyes arises deep down when you looked down, but it was quickly put down. Rather disappointing as a size, if someone would have asked you, but not everyone can have porno dick or customized one. You can still fuck with that. Leon swallows hard, taking a deep breath in again as he looked at you briefly - your tits are more interesting right now. He hopes you let him to suck on them. His fingers twitch, wanting to reach for your panties and tug to the side, to fuck you, but he is a gentleman. A nice guy.

Your hand pumps his dick, smearing his pre-cum along the flesh before tugging your panties to the side, your glistening pussy is fully exposed to his gaze and Leon almost choked on his saliva when you pressed your slick cunt on his cock. It is a torturous game, feeling you rub slowly along his aching length leading to drip more of pre-cum. You are so wet and warm, your slick coats his dick with every stroke of your pussy against it. This makes his eyes widen briefly at the sensation, he isn’t sure if he would be able to last long inside you. If it ever gets to that, of course.

“Please..?” Leon groans, bucking his hips to get more and press himself tighter for more friction than it is even possible right now. His sounds only encourage you to mess with him.

“What? I don’t understand” you taunt him with a light pout, another long and slow stroke, his cock’s tip was so close to slide into you. “Use your big-big words, Leon”

Your pussy kept grinding, enjoying the way his cock head bumps against your clit and making you wetter, forcing some noises from you too. Your fingers tug on his lower lip playfully - just to tease and annoy him. But he doesn’t let you withdraw your hand by grabbing hold of it. His lips catch your finger, sucking and nipping on it.

“Use me… please” like one of yours sex toys, Leon wanted to add, but, alas his dignity was still in tact, holding barely together by the tiniest thread. And as much as you want him to cum without even a penetration, to embarrass him, your own selfish urge to fuck him is much stronger.

“What a pretty face you have, right, big bro?” Also it is hard to ignore such sight in front of you, with blushed cheeks, his chest raises heavily as he let out breathless groans. “Pretty and pathetic, you would be a perfect sex doll”

Your wet slit kept rubbing, but this time savoring with the last stroke, before finally hovering over his cock - feeling his leaky tip nudging against your slick hole, begging to sink down, before his cock finally slides into you. He watched how your pussy swallowed his cock slowly inch by inch, before Leon thrusts up to meet your downward movement, forcing yours to slam against his, quickly burying himself as deep as he can right now. You moan at the rough motion, now ignoring how his hands reach to grip tightly your waist, not really caring anymore and now nothing stops him by touching you. Your slick inner walls wrap around his cock nicely, tightly clenching and he doesn’t think twice before bucking his hips again as yours started to roll against his - driving him deeper into your soaked hole. His dick hits the g-spot so sweetly, making you gasp and moan with him. His teeth catch the fabric of your shirt, trying to tug it down and expose your boobs to him - and you are nice enough to help him by pulling it aside, a clear permission to bury his face in between them. Sloppily kissing and biting on the flesh of your tits, while you are bouncing on his dick. His lips repeat your name as a prayer, catching a hard nipple into his mouth, his tongue brushes and rolls against the sensitive nub - sucking at it, nibbling messily and leaving wet marks before darting to give attention to another nipple, causing your pussy to flutter around his dick more, tightly engulfing deeper into the slick walls as the wet sounds mix with the skin slapping ones every time your hips meet after every deep and quick stroke that his cock drag against your walls.

“I-I want to fill you with my cum, please”his voice is breathless at the edge of whine even though he tries his best to not appear so desperate, but the plea behind his words is clear. His grip gets tighter, his fingers knead your ass as he grinds his dick against your cervix to intensify the pleasure for himself while his pelvis rubs against your clit as a nice touch. He really hopes you wouldn’t try to be a bitch and let him cum, if not then he is probably going to cry. “Please, please, let me cum… I need this, sis”

“You sound so fucking ridiculous” your voice is breathless too, but seeing him so needy and desperate for his release making this even better. Your hand tugs his hair, pulling away from your tits to look at his face even better - his lips are glistening with his own saliva and parted. Your clit throbs even more, aching for attention, velvety walls clench around him when you reach down to press your fingers on your clit, rubbing rough circles. “Come on, fill your little sister if you need this so much”

He whimpers disappointedly when he was pulled away from your sensitive and abused tits, but it was quickly changed into a moan when your pussy to wrap him tighter after adding your fingers in action. Your hips roll harder to meet his thrusts and wanting to see more of his stupid faces. Leon grinds up against sweet spot at every opportunity and every time it gets messier and messier as his balls tightens. His eyes slide shut briefly, now wetly meeting yours and looking more pathetic. What a freak, not like you are better than him.

Your orgasm approaches quickly as you kept rubbing your clit in rough circle motions, making your walls wrap harder around his cock. You arch as the flowing pleasure hits your body hard, having harder time to use your fingers to prolong your orgasm. Your pussy flutters at every erratic and messy thrust he kept making as he chase his own orgasm. It didn’t last long for him either, already a wonder he didn’t cum after sliding into you.

“Fuck- fuck” he slammed in to the hilt one final time, burying it deep and rubbing against your cervix before finally erupting deep inside you. Thick ropes of cum painted your insides in white, as your dripping cunt was milking his cock. Your body fell down against his chest, breathing heavily together and shivering.

“You stink like a wet dog, get out” you complain weakly, trying to push yourself away from him but it is effortless - he buries his head in the crook of your neck, again. His soft cock is still inside you, he won’t let you go. “and unsubscribe from my OnlyFans, creep”

“Later” Leon mumbles absently.

No, he is not even going to unsubscribe. In another life.

[yourstardarling]

Beauty Is Intimidating

I was thinking about this earlier, that beauty creates a lot of mixed reactions in people. There is no one way to define beauty and what is deemed beautiful is personal interpretation. What I have noticed though is that oftentimes people who look good can easily intimidate other people. Their beauty creates a barrier that makes it hard sometimes for them to be approached. Like in popular Highschool movies for example, beautiful people are often seen as untouchable. They hold a lot more power than others and only other beautiful people can easily be around them.

The reason I brought this up is because it made me wonder about the nature of beauty. What better planet to look at than beauty herself, Venus. Venus the planet of love, femininity and beauty rules over the way we view attraction in our lives. However, the nature of Venus is to face scrutiny and conflict for her beauty. Her signs are opposing forces that don’t like Venuses beauty.

Taurus & Scorpio: This first axis shows the point that beauty will often cause intimidation. People who are beautiful have a way of bringing up the shadows of other people. They are ideally secure within themselves and their appearance. This in turn creates an effect where they’ll face scrutiny for others insecurities. “I wish I had hair like hers” “Why aren’t my arms as muscular as his” This demonstrates how beauty, will bring about underlying feelings of others to light. It can garner jealousy and envy for your appearance. So the intimidation itself does not come from the attractive person, but from the insecurities others may have inside. It’s a feeling of unworthiness to even talk to someone they believe looks better than them. Oftentimes people make the assumption that a beautiful person won’t like to talk to them. Sometimes if these feelings are not evaluated, it can cause deep emotional resentment towards good looking people.

Libra & Aries: This next axis shows us how beauty can often cause conflictions within other people. Beautiful people are susceptible to face hatred for their appearance. A lot of aggression can be thrown towards them just for the fact they look good. With the Aries influence on Libra, people will want to physically fight them. Some have faced bullying and harassment growing up which motivated them to improve their appearance. At the same time beautiful people can easily get other people to fight for them. Like Helen of Troy, a whole war was waged in her name because she was considered the most beautiful women in her time. So beauty here becomes a form of protection, which intimidates others from messing with you. However, the air sign nature of Libra shows how conflict will instead arise in the form of gossip. A lot of rumors can be made about them, which are usually lower Aries quality traits, such as being a b*tch, explosive, mean and narcissistic. For example, my friend has been told multiple times that other people thought she looked mean so they did not approach her. When in reality, she's a goofball and is far from being mean. Beauty here creates intimidation, by people either wanting to fight you or stay away in fear of being attacked by you.

Pisces & Virgo: This axis is between Venus’s exaltation and fall placements. In Pisces, Venus love knows no bounds, they are able to find beauty in everything and everyone. Virgo though reminds us of what beauty means in our society. It signifies facing constant scrutiny. Instead of being loved for their whole being, beautiful people will often face a lot criticism on their looks. They will get shamed for any slight changes in their appearance such as their weight, face and complexion. Criticism on why they are wearing this outfit, why does their hair look like this and a need to bring them down for not being perfect. Pisces reminds us that this is a reflection of what you find imperfect within yourself. The beautiful person is just mirroring the insecurities in other people. That is why you can find something within them to always critique because it’s the criticism you have about yourself. The exaltation of Pisces teaches us to let go of trying to pay attention to every little detail about other’s appearance. Instead it's about appreciating the whole, which includes the fact that they are a regular person. There is so much more to them than just their physical looks. A reminder that before making all these assumptions about them, it is important to get to know who they are behind the mask.

______

This is just my theory and observation on beauty. So next time people think you’re unapproachable and scary, just know it’s probably because you’re so sexy 😏. Lmfao, hope yall enjoyed.

- Your Star Darling

[la2yn0va]

Hello there! Can I request some yandere Black Swan, Acheron, Jingliu and Kafka (self aware) x male reader who is single and has absolutely no experience in relantionship yet is down bad for them or has an interest for them

Call me crazy… I get a feeling you like women…

————

Black Swan

She automatically knows you like her. She feels your eyes looking down at her softly, the same way others look at her when they found her attractive.

And she is a bragging bitch about it. “Oh, his grace built you? Couldn’t be me~ he maxed me out immediately~”

She finds your inexperience down right adorable. The way you stutter at least thrice when she’s in your vision. The way your eyes shine when she talks.

When you eventually get dragged into the world of Honkai Star rail, she lets go of all restrains. With no shame she flirts with you EVERY SEXTILLION SECOND.

She makes sure your a flustered and blushing mess, rubbing against you so your hand grazes her chest area.

Getting close enough to make sure her breath attacks your neck and the her lips tickle your skin, while whispering provocative things into your ear.

She always steals you away from people any chance/time she gets/wants to. After all, you LOVE her right~? There’s no issues with acting as you girlfriend (unofficial)

Just to make sure no one interferes in your little sessions, she goes into glass paintings/objects with you (in her trailer she goes into things like glass paintings)

Her hands are always on you in some manner, weather it be romantically around your neck or your arms, or in a more sexual manner.

In short, black swan takes the lead in this relationship

Acheron

She’s pretty confused on why you’re acting different with her at first. However, after a few moments/after encountering firefly and the trailblazer on their ‘date’ she’d finally realize you LIKE her.

She acts more shy whenever your around her, she doesn’t really know how to interact with you. More so because she doesn’t know how to… react to your feelings.

Yes she loves you back, but she’s never had a crush/lover so she’s as lost and inexperienced as you.

Although others are jealous of her, they also find it pretty fucking cute, and make a whole ‘will they or won’t they’ game show.

In battle acheron will always crit for you, and when in idle she compliments you subtly. She doesn’t wanna scare you away.

The ancient scrolls say you believe their video game characters. so she’ll hide her time until you finally get transferred back here, to your real home AND to her.

And when you do get isekai’d by whatever fuckin means, I’d like to congratulate you, as you now have earned a VERY FUCKING SCARY GUARD DOG.

Acheron doesn’t leave your side for a second (unless you ask her to in which case she’ll stand BEHIND you. Or if your in the bathroom)

Acheron quickly learns how to show her love towards you through acts of service, words of affirmation, and physical touch.

She likes to hold your hand, and with no shame likes to proclaim to everyone that the two of you are an item. Which you don’t deny.

Acheron takes the lead in the relationship

Jingliu

The most normal about your attraction to her.

She’ll be honored that you love her, and shows it through ALWAYS crit damaging enemies and taking less health from her allies.

While in idle she’ll (like everyone else) will say a unofficial voiceline towards you, complimenting you and slightly hinting that she knows she’s a ‘video game character’

Another unofficial thing she’ll do while in idle is remove her blindfold and stare into your eyes lovingly YET respectfully.

When you get transferred into the game, it’s basically the same as acheron. But she’s more open and well normal about your relationship.

She’s slightly overprotective and possessive but that’s about it. She spends all her time by your side, weather it be in bed (get yo mind out the gutter) or IN bed (put it back in the gutter) or simply walking/exploring other planets.

She shows her love through..well everything. Acts of service, physical touch, gift giving, etc…

Overall not much to say here, she’s the most normal and a less scary (when not Mara-struck) acheron.

No one takes the lead, yall just switch leading roles every other day.

Kafka

Kafka is also very similar to black swan.

She immediately knows you love her, and she takes pride in it, after all who doesn’t? (Kafka’s the type to make gay men question themselves, as I myself can NOT attest to 😉)

Unlike her fellow…acolytes, she’s much more suave and blunt about her knowledge on your attraction. After all, your so adorable and cute for the god of gods (or as I like to refer to the reader who’s a god in self aware au—THE OMNI AEON)

In idle, she pulls out a blurry photo of your and kisses it while staring right at you. It’s blurry to you but VERY visible to kafka.

She’s also the only person in this who’ll outright state she knows she’s in a game and loves you (like sues in that one episode of gravity falls with his A.I yandere love)

Overall there’s nothing else to add here, she’s just another black swan when it comes to this scenario. OH wait no!

She uses her webs to manipulate you to dance gracefully with her and makes you touch her body while feigning innocence and teasing you.

She takes the lead in the relationship.

Okay I’m done. 4 or 5 more requests to finish

[guiltyasdave]

heaven can't help me now

chapter 3 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You're afraid Dave might not like you as much as you like him. ...Meanwhile, Dave is afraid of the same thing. (They're idiots okay)

word count: 6.5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, phone sex, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, biting, cream pie, use of panties as a gag, orgasm denial, pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, throwing around these ideas with you is so fun, i love you <3

taylor swift said “what if he’s written mine on my upper thigh” and i took that personally

thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading! <3 (and listening to me freak out about this on a daily basis)

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

Dave regrets the message as soon as the small text underneath it switches from delivered to read. 

He knows that he’s been cruel to you, he could see the confusion and hurt written all over your face when he drove you home. But he has to be the responsible one, the adult in this situation. The one who’s able to hold back. Nothing should have happened between you and him, not once, let alone twice. He shouldn’t indulge in this, shouldn’t give you hope. 

He has always looked down on men who were with women much younger than them. Midlife crisis. Not able to have a relationship with someone on the same maturity level. 

That’s not who he is. He understands that the reason why you’re attracted to him lies at least partially in your relationship with your father, and he won’t take advantage of that. It’s not who he is and it’s not what you deserve. 

You’re gonna go back to college in a few weeks and he can pretend that none of this ever happened. You’re gonna meet a nice boy your age, become a lawyer, get married and live your life the way you’re supposed to. Eventually, the memory of you writhing underneath him, your voice so sweet and needy in your desperation, surely won’t be as vivid as it is right now.

But then he found your panties between the cushions of his couch, still damp with your arousal, still smelling of you. His mind started wandering, conjuring images that he should be ashamed of. The things he could do to you, the things he could show you. 

It’s like he’s lost in a haze, stroking his throbbing cock to fantasies of you, all the depraved shit that some respectful fellow student would never do, but that he knows you crave. He hears your whimpers so clearly in his head, pictures your face, so pretty begging him for things only he knows how to give you, until he releases himself all over the lacy bit of fabric that’s clutched between his fingers. 

But now you’re not answering, and shame is swirling in his stomach, surely now he’s overstepped, why did he even think– 

His racing thoughts are interrupted by the quiet ping of his phone and a message from you. Just a photo, no text. 

His eyes widen, taking in the image. He can’t see your face, only the shape of your tits, already so familiar to him, covered in dark, lacy fabric. Exactly the same color, exactly the same pattern as the fabric that he soiled and photographed to send to you.

You put on the matching bra for him, he realizes. Which is probably why it took you longer than usual to answer, you had to get into the lingerie and put yourself all prettily on display for him. He drinks in the shape of you, the skin that he knows would feel so soft underneath his touch, the swell of your breasts, the nipples hidden behind lace, how they would harden for him, how you would squirm if he–

Desire starts coursing through him again, and he feels like a teenager, reduced to this by just a photo. His thumb finds your name on the display almost instinctively.

“Fuck, baby.”

The rasp of his voice hits your ear as soon as you accept the call. Your heart had been hammering away inside your chest since you hit send on the photo. 

“You like it?” 

You hate how needy you sound, how desperate for his approval. David exhales sharply and you wish you were with him again.

“Trust me, I like it very much.” 

Your cheeks heat at his tone. He blows all other thoughts out of your head. You forget how rejected you felt, how you told yourself you wouldn’t let it happen again. It doesn’t matter, not when he talks to you like this. You whisper a thank you and he chuckles. 

“Are you in bed, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, considering the words resting on the top of your tongue. Deciding to take the leap. “Wish you were here too.”

You don’t need to see his face to know how he purses his lips, how he slowly curls them into a smirk.

“Mhm? What would you like me to do if I was?” 

Your face burns hotter. 

“I– Touch me, use your fingers to–” 

He groans, a rich, deep sound in your ear. You’re still sore, but your fingertips ghost down your body anyway, chasing the need that’s building up between your legs again. You gasp when they find your clit, already swollen and covered in your slick. 

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Yes, please David, I need–”

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” 

He keeps talking to you, low murmurs in your ear, directing your fingers over your body. He doesn’t let up until you’ve come twice, until he’s reduced you to a whimpering mess without even being there. 

He doesn’t apologize for earlier, not directly at least. You didn’t expect him to. In a twisted way, that you’re not sure anyone but the two of you would understand, this was his apology. 

You’re not sure what changed his mind, but he doesn’t go back to his distant self afterwards. Maybe he’s come to the same realization as you. That neither of you is going to be able to stay away. 

He’s on your mind constantly, you catch yourself checking your phone for new messages way too often and smiling down at the screen whenever he’s texting you. You know that you shouldn’t act like this, shouldn’t give him that much power in your mind. But it feels so good, to be seen, to be wanted like that. 

You’re both busy; he’s working on an important case and you’re in desperate need to catch up on job applications and college work, which you’ve neglected over the past few days, as your father is quick to remind you. 

But you keep exchanging messages, keep sharing hushed whispers at night. It never lets up, the thrill of his voice guiding your fingers and hearing the sounds that he makes when he’s putting his hands on himself. Knowing that it’s you, the thought of you that elicits them. 

You’re having dinner with your father, who is home earlier than most days, the brightly lit dining room reflecting off the massive windows, when the bubble bursts. 

“You remember Dave, right? From the country club?”

You freeze, your fork hovering in the air over your plate. He knows, your mind screams. No, there’s no way he would know. 

You fight hard to appear nonchalant, to not let your face betray you. You nod, humming questioningly in a way that you hope sounds innocent enough. 

“I told you how he got divorced recently, didn’t I? It’s been hard on him, poor fella…” 

Your dad sighs and shakes his head. You furrow your brow, at a complete loss where this conversation might be going. 

“Well, guess who got him a date?! Cheryl from the office is single and I realized, she’s perfect for him! An amazing match. He never goes out, always been a bit of a loner, I guess… But I set them up and they went out last night! Great, huh?” 

Your mind is running a mile a minute. You force a weak smile, lifting your head to meet your father’s proud grin. 

“Y-yeah, dad. Great,” you echo. You feel hollow.

He leans back in his chair, looking extremely pleased with himself. 

“Looks like I’m gonna have to play matchmaker for you too, eventually, with the way things are going, hm?” 

Under different conditions, the snide remark about your dating life and how he’s never been even remotely happy with any guy you had dared to bring home, would sting a lot more. Right now though, you’re reeling from the fact that David went out with another woman last night. 

“Sure,” you whisper. “May I please be excused?” 

You don’t wait for an answer, already pushing back from the table and rushing up the stairs. Back in your room, you grab your phone, scrolling through your past messages. You didn’t hear from him last night, which you hadn’t found weird at the time, but it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now. 

Maybe he finally realized that someone his age would be much better suited for him. A real woman, not some little girl who still goes to school, calls him drunk in the middle of the night and can’t stand up against her father. Of course that’s not what he wants. 

You pace in your room, thoughts running through your head. Do you confront him? You never talked about it, never discussed exclusivity, but still… You don’t want anyone else and you had thought that he wouldn’t either.

After tossing and turning in your bed for hours, you decide not to ask David about it, to not contact him at all. Maybe that’s for the best. Save him the trouble of letting you down. It’s like a weight pulling under, the uncertainty and fear of this being it tying itself into a tight knot in your stomach. But you’ve been desperate enough for him already, you try to reason, you need to stop embarrassing yourself by running after him. 

He texts you the next day, sounding just the same way he always does. You can’t bring yourself to not reply to him at all, but it’s clipped, one-sentence answers, which he picks up on soon enough. His name lights up your phone as you’re hunched over your desk in your bedroom, pondering over an essay that you’re supposed to write over the break. 

“Hello?” 

“Sweetheart.” The deep smoothness of his voice travels from the speaker right under your skin, holding you under his spell the way he always does. “Is something wrong?”

You bite your lip, muttering a no in reply. You sound like a petulant teenager, everything that you don’t want him to see you as.

“Now why do I not believe that?”

You hear his smile in the way he sounds. You want to see him so badly, want to be on the receiving end of that smile. You wonder if Cheryl from the office got to see it last night too. If he’s given her all the parts of him that he’s given you. 

“Dunno.” There’s a sting in your voice, not unlike the sting that you feel piercing through your heart at the thought of him with someone else. 

Dave frowns at the way you sound. You’re never this short with him, never seemed so sad since that night you called him drunk and he turned you down. And even then, it was different, not dismissive the way you are now. 

His anxious mind immediately provides him with a variety of explanations. Maybe you’ve finally come to your senses and realized that you don’t want him. That you don’t want a man twice your age, that him wanting you actually makes him a fucking creep, that he isn’t as great as you’ve built him up to be in your head. Maybe you’ve realized that what you’re doing is wrong. He wouldn’t blame you for it. One of you should be reasonable and end things for good. He has been telling himself that.

But you sound so upset that worry settles in his gut. He feels that pull towards you again, only that it’s not explicitly sexual this time. He just really needs to see you, to touch you, to make sure that you’re okay. 

The invitation for you to come over leaves his lips without thinking about it, just the overwhelming need to have you close. You pause, so long that he gets even more uneasy, but eventually you agree.

Dave knows that something is wrong as soon as he opens the door. You look smaller, slightly curling in on yourself. You don’t meet his gaze, eyes downturned and without the spark in them that he sees in his mind when he thinks about you. He pulls you into a hug, one that you barely return.

His bedroom door is once again firmly closed, and he’s directing you towards his couch again. Still the last invisible line, the one that he tells himself will keep him from letting you in all the way. Your eyes linger there for a moment, he can almost see the wheels turning in your head. You deflate even more.

He hates to see you like this. Fights the urge to wrap you in his arms, satisfy his hunger for your lips and fuck you until every trace of that sadness written over your face is erased.

The door that you presume leads to his bedroom is closed, just like the last time you were here. You wonder if he opened it for Cheryl, if she got to see a part of him that you didn’t. Then again, he probably treated her like a lady. Wined and dined her properly, maybe a chaste kiss to say good night. Because she’s someone who’s right for him, someone worth putting the effort in. Not the quick fuck that you had been. 

He probably invited you over to tell you in person that he really can’t see you anymore. That he means it this time. You suppose that in his mind, that’s the decent thing to do. You think that you would have rather had him text you about it. That way you wouldn’t have to pretend, wouldn’t have to tell him to his face that it’s fine, that you understand, don’t worry.

Still, he called and you came running. Like a fucking idiot. 

You sit down on the edge of his couch, decidedly keeping the images of the last time you were here buried in your memories. “Do you want something to drink?” You shake your head no and he sits down beside you. You’re acutely aware of his presence, of the simmering need that you feel for him, even now. Please just get it over with.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know.” You’re not looking at him, keeping your eyes on your hands, your fingers gripping each other tightly, tense like the rest of your body.

“Do all what?” 

You bite your lip, attempting to swallow down the anger at the fact that he’s gonna make you the one to say it, but it’s no use. Your eyes fly up to meet his. 

“Make me come here, to talk to me in person, or whatever it is you think you’re doing. You– you could’ve just texted me.”

He furrows his brow, a hint of defensiveness in his warm brown eyes. 

“What are you talking about?” 

You scoff. “My dad told me. About your date.” You’re never like this, your voice biting and your eyes glaring. You’re never like this and you have no right to be like this now, getting worked up over the end of something that never even was, not really. “I’m sure she’s nice. A great match, he said, so you’re gonna tell me to fuck off. It’s okay, I understand.”

Your voice breaks on the last word. A lump is building in your throat and your eyes burn with unshed tears. This can’t be happening. It’s bad enough that you feel this much about it, but it’s indefinitely worse to have him know it. 

David’s expression softens. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s not–” He slips one hand in between yours, gently pries your fingers away from each other. “You thought that’s why I asked you to come over here?” 

You shrug, once again unable to meet his gaze. 

“The date was shit. I wouldn’t even have gone if Jim hadn’t kept bugging me about it.”

Inhaling deeply, you slowly trail your eyes up to his face again. 

“Really?”

He nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest. His lips press against your forehead. 

“Promise.” He sighs. “You sounded so upset, that’s why I asked you to come–”

You sniffle, suddenly feeling stupid about the whole scene you made. He holds you a little longer, and you revel in his scent that’s engulfing you, in the warmth and solidness of his body. When he finally pulls away, his hand finds your chin and lifts it until you’re looking straight at him. A hint of amusement is glinting in his eyes.

“Were you jealous, baby?” 

You’re well aware that he can see right through you, but shake your head anyway. He allows himself a grin.

“What then? Worried that you’ll find no one else to fuck you like I do?” 

Heat is burning in your cheeks, but you can’t help but laugh. He’s not wrong, at least partially. 

Your lips curling up and the soft laugh tumbling out of you soothes him, eases the sting in his chest. The severity of your reaction to the idea of him dumping you for another woman took him off guard. He never wants to see that kind of hurt written over your face ever again. 

He should have told you, he realizes that now. He knew nothing would come out of meeting with that woman that Jim had been boasting about all week, but what was he supposed to say? No need pal, I already got everything I need fucking your daughter? 

He doesn’t know when you began feeling like everything he needed. He knows that you shouldn’t. He knows that he shouldn’t check his phone as often as he does, shouldn’t spend his days fantasizing about you, shouldn’t imagine you by his side almost constantly. 

But how can he not, when you’re looking at him like this, your eyes so wide, so filled with trust. Always ready, always desperate to give him everything of you. Like a dream come true that he didn’t know he had. 

“Maybe,” you admit, teasingly but still so, so soft. Everything about you is so fucking soft. His to touch, his to defile. Because, inexplicably, you fucking let him.

He needs to reassure you that he’s worthy of that trust. He leans in closer, feels your breath ghosting over his face as his nose nudges against yours. He pauses, searches your expression for a moment. You dip your chin down in a tiny nod and he’s onto you, chases your mouth with his. He pours all the emotion that he doesn’t understand, can’t begin to name, into the kiss. How much he misses you, how often you are on his mind. How he doesn’t want to hurt you, wants to do right by you, but has no clue how.

Your lips move against his with more fervor, a mess of tongues and teeth clashing against one another. Your whimpers drip into his mouth, leaving him drunk off you. Heat spreads through him, like a fire that’s going to consume you both. He thinks that he wants it to. 

He trails kisses down your throat, sucks at the skin, relishes in the shivers that it sends through your body. You grasp at his shirt, trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons, but he stops you. Nipping at your collarbone, he looks up at you, takes in your wide blown pupils, the hunger in your eyes.

Maybe this is all he can give you, but he’s going to do that right. He’s going to give you what he can, as long as you let him. 

He hooks his fingers under the neckline of your dress, pulls it down a little, inhales the sweet scent of your perfume. Every new inch of your skin that he reveals fills him with the need to worship it. 

“Will you let me make it up to you, sweetheart?” He mouths at your skin again, his eyes still trained on your face. “Let me make you feel good?” 

You nod eagerly, a breathy please, David falling from your lips. He runs his hands up your thighs, marvels at the almost feverish warmth of your skin, before he lifts your dress and helps you pull it over your head. 

Your underwear is white this time, a picture of innocence that only he knows is an illusion. His arousal swells at the thought, his cock pushing against the confines of his pants. 

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this,” he admits, his hands trailing over your waist, tightening his grip momentarily and enjoys watching you squirm in response. “I think about you all the time.” 

Your gaze flickers for a moment, and he realizes what he just said. It’s not a lie, but also not a truth that he intended for you to know. You bite your lip, expression turning thoughtful for a moment. Then a small smile spreads over your face. 

“M–me too,” you whisper, a bit shy, like you’re still half-expecting him to take it back, but putting your trust in him anyway. 

He has to kiss you again, remove all remaining doubts about how much he wants you from your mind. Licking into your mouth, he starts toying with the cups of your bra, pulling them down just so that his fingertips can graze over your nipples. You press your body into his touch, your back arching off the cushions, and he undoes the clasp, lets the fabric fall away from your body. 

He runs his fingers over your flesh, teases the hardening buds, loves the way you keen into his mouth in response. Palming your tits roughly, he pulls away a little to look at them. He doesn’t think that he’ll ever tire of the sight of his hands on you. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “Like you were made for me.” It stings only a little right in this moment, while he’s touching you, to know that you are not. He can keep pretending, for a while. It’s worth it, seeing how you light up at the praise, how you drink in his every word, sinking deeper into his touch. His, his, his.

David peels your panties off of you, the image of the white lace against his hand one that you know will burn itself into your memory. His eyes linger on the fabric, a grin slowly growing on his face. Arousal tingles at your spine at the sight. You’re entirely bare now while he hasn’t removed one item of clothing. The obvious power dynamic leaves you feeling vulnerable, you and your body at his mercy, but you trust him. To treat you the way you want, need to be treated, to push you to your limits and to still keep you safe.

The weight of his hands lands on your thighs, slowly pushing them apart, making room for his body between them. You’re acutely aware of how wet you are, and how clearly he can see it right now, with your folds all spread out right in front of him. You feel your slick coating your inner thighs, feel his breath ghosting against it.

He groans at the sight and sinks to his knees, almost at eye level with your pussy. The realization of what he’s about to do sinks in as he leans forward and places a gentle kiss against your clit that has you trembling. But still–

“Y–you don’t have to do that,” you stutter, suddenly feeling a different kind of vulnerable. A shame that you can’t explain starts welling up inside of you. 

He pulls back, sitting back on his haunches and looking up at you. His hands gently push your thighs back together, leaving you less exposed. 

“Do you not want me to?”

You bite your lip, fighting not to avoid his gaze. “I don’t know. I– I’ve never–” Your voice trails off. A fire is burning in his eyes, intimidating you. 

“No one’s ever eaten you out?” He sounds incredulous. 

You shake your head, shoulders moving up in a shrug, a wave of embarrassment growing in you. “Men don’t really… like to. In my experience.” 

He sighs and leans forward, presses a soft kiss to your left knee. “Most men are idiots.” It’s mumbled into your skin, lips moving against it. His fingertips inch up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You deserve to feel good, baby.” His voice sinks into your skin, low and raspy, and you have no choice but to believe it. “Will you let me make you feel good?” he asks again.

His dark eyes are on you, his fingers still tracing shapes over your skin. So close to where you want him. You’d let him do anything. 

“Please, David,” you whisper, for the second time. 

He pries your legs back open, a low growl in his throat as you’re spread out for him. Then he dives in, licking and sucking at your clit, gently at first, but quickly getting more intense, until stars start to burst behind your eyelids and you’re gasping his name. It’s overwhelming, unlike anything that you’ve ever experienced before. 

He lets up momentarily, licking through your slit, drinking up your arousal that’s dripping out of you and groaning at the taste of you. His mouth moves to your inner thighs, kissing and sucking on the sensitive flesh. He bites down suddenly, sinking his teeth into your skin and you scream his name at the unexpected burst of pain that transforms into pleasure almost instantly. 

He does it again, and again, leaving his marks on your body. It hurts just right, the sensation of him leaving his trace on you, marking you as his. You clench around nothing, desperate to feel him on your clit again, to take you the final bit to the top. 

As if he was reading your mind, he lets up his ministrations on your thighs and kisses his way to the spot where you need him so desperately. Your fingers sink into his hair, tugging at the roots, and he looks up at you, smug pride glinting in his eyes. He licks through your folds, nudges at your entrance with his tongue, before his lips find your clit again, closing around the sensitive nub. 

You come within seconds, the waves of your arousal crashing over you so suddenly that it takes your breath away. His groans vibrate against your skin as he laps at you, drinking you down. You feel like you’re in heaven. 

David gives you time to calm down, gently mouths at your heated skin, licks over the spots where you feel the indents of his teeth, before he kisses his way up your body. You taste yourself on his lips when they connect with yours. It’s messy, and filthy, and you can’t get enough of it. 

You whimper when he pulls back and his eyes find yours again, his almost black, the pupils blown wide. He rises to his feet and looks down to where you’re spread out, thighs parted, on full display for him as he towers over you. He leans down, a finger tapping against your mouth.

“Open.” 

Your lips part immediately, giving him all the access he wants. He groans at your obedience, trails his knuckles over your cheek for a moment, before raising his hand to your eyes. He’s holding your panties again. 

“These are so pretty. Would be a shame to just leave them lying around, don’t you think?” 

You let out a sound, something akin to agreement. His grin widens. 

“Good girl.” 

His fingers push the fabric into your mouth, your spit soaking the material, mixing with the arousal that’s already sticking to it. You moan at the taste, your eyelids fluttering shut. 

His palm connects with your cheek in a light slap. Not hard enough to sting, but your eyes fly back open at the sensation. You grind down onto the cushions, desperate for friction as another wave of need floods you. 

“Eyes on me, remember?” 

You try voicing a sorry, but it comes out garbled and he chuckles. Soothing his fingers over the spot he just slapped. 

“There’s no need for you to talk. Just be a good girl and take what I give you, yeah?” 

Your body is buzzing, but your mind is blissfully empty. Ready to give yourself over to him, to submit to whatever he asks. It feels so good, so easily being able to please for once in your life. To follow rules and be praised for it. Simple. Safe. 

He wraps the lace around your head and ties it together in the back, effectively gagging you, leaving your mouth opened, the fabric stretching against the corners. Your desire is coursing through your body with so much force that it’s almost painful. 

He kisses you over the gag, pressing his lips against yours. One of his hands wraps around your throat, applying a hint of pressure. Your hips chase him, your arousal close to unbearable. He chuckles against your mouth before he pulls back.

“Such a good girl.”

He teases you endlessly. Drinks in the sight of you writhing under him as his fingers are back on your nipples, tugging them harshly and eliciting soft mewls from you. You look beautiful in the golden light of the evening sun that’s falling through his windows, almost angelic. 

An angel that he wrecked, already so fucked out when he finally sheds his own clothes and starts sliding his cock through your folds. He coats himself with the slick of your desire, taps his head against your clit, nudges at your entrance again and again without sliding inside. 

Your whimpering cries are music to his ears, your fingernails digging into his shoulders sting just right. You’re pleading with him through the makeshift gag, your words all muffled, and he revels in the desperation in your eyes. Loves the sight of it. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he coos, slides over your clit again. “Tell me.” 

You’re trying, trying so hard to get out real words, and he chuckles at your efforts. Deciding to grant you a little mercy, he pushes the head of his weeping cock into you. He throbs at the feeling of it, of how your slick pissy tries pulling him in deeper. You’re whining at the stretch, your hands desperately grabbing at him, before he pulls back again. 

Your eyes are swimming with tears, silently pleading with him. It’s like a rush. You’re always such a good, polite and well-behaved girl, so sweet, and here you are, completely bare and spread out underneath him, crying to get fucked. By him. He’s a bad man, he knows it. He doesn’t care, not when it feels like this. 

He smirks down at you. “Say please.” 

It’s obvious that you’re trying, your tongue struggling against the soaked fabric in your mouth. He lines himself up once more, looks at your face, at the desperate hope written out in your eyes. Then he slams into you. You scream, gripping his shoulders so tightly that he thinks you’ve drawn blood. He couldn’t care less.

Now that he feels your tight walls all around his cock, engulfing him with pulsing heat, it’s impossible to tease you any longer. He pulls back, just to sink deep into you, again and again. You cry out at every thrust, every time that he hits that spot deep inside of you that leaves you such a trembling mess. 

He can tell when you’re starting to tighten around him, your cries getting higher, and he knows that you’re close. Slowing down, he leans his head down to yours, his thrusts becoming more shallow. 

“Hold it,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against the soft shell of your ear. A whine escapes from your throat, fresh tears falling from your eyes, your whole body trembling underneath him, your cunt squeezing him deliciously tight. He’s breathless, high on the control you’re giving him, on your level of obedience, doing every single thing that he asks from you. 

Letting you calm down a little, he busies himself with kissing every inch of your skin that he can reach. Almost bursting with arousal himself, he knows that he’s not gonna be able to keep this up much longer. 

When he speeds up again, he sets a harsh rhythm, jostling your body with every thrust, mesmerized by the way your tits bounce with the movement. Your walls start tightening around him again, pulling him in. He can’t hold back anymore. 

“I’m gonna come. Gonna leave you just as messy as those little panties of yours. ‘S that what you want?” 

You nod eagerly, more unintelligible pleads stumbling through the gag. 

“Fuck, come here–“ His fingers scramble, ripping the fabric out of your mouth to kiss you properly, to feel your tongue against his. 

His hips move at rapid speed, pumping into you and chasing both your orgasms. He’s breathless, high on the feeling of your wet cunt squeezing him so tight. You come with a cry, muffled by his mouth on yours, and the sensation of you clenching around him sends him over the edge as well. He buries himself deep inside of you, spilling his cum to leave you just as messy as he promised you. 

“Fucking perfect, like you were made for me, only want you sweetheart…” He’s rambling, barely aware of what he's saying, still lost in the bliss of his orgasm. The words only register when an unreadable expression flies over your face in reaction. Shit. He goes through things to say, ways to somehow explain, though he couldn’t even explain the words to himself. 

His mind quiets when you smile shyly and burrow your face in his neck. He moves the both of you until you’re a tangle of intertwined limbs, resting on his cushions, watching as the light slowly fades outside. You’re warm in his arms, your breath coming softly, fanning against his skin. It feels too right to be wrong, he decides silently. 

The peaceful silence between you breaks with a chime from his phone, a message from  your father. 

“Looks like I’m invited to have dinner at yours,” he says, turning the screen towards you. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing for your own phone to check the time. “I should get going.” 

He helps you get dressed, until your still soaked panties end up in his hands again. His eyes flit up and down your body, lingering on the hem of your skirt, on the bare thighs beneath them. You take a step closer, your hand stretched out for them, but he pulls them away, sliding them into his pocket. 

A smirk grazes your features as you take another step closer. “Again? Really?” 

He shrugs, takes your hand to pull you into him. Your responding giggle is a sound that he’ll never get tired of. He sneaks a hand under your dress, palms your bare ass and presses your body against his. 

“Be a good girl and stay like this, for dinner,” he murmurs against your lips, before he kisses you once more. 

A grin slowly grows on your face as you realize what he’s saying. 

“Deal,” you agree, your eyes glinting. 

You’re sitting down next to him, sliding into the chair beside him with the most innocent, sweetest smile to both your father and him. You’re still wearing the dress that you left his place in, the one that, if you’ve been good, you’re bare underneath. 

He reaches for you almost instantly, hidden under the tabletop, the pull towards your skin too strong to resist. You tense up for a moment, throwing him a quick glance, before you relax into his touch. He draws circles, featherlight on your skin, and you part your thighs a little more, allowing him to slide further between them. 

Focussing on the conversation with your father isn’t easy, not when you’re right here beside him, so pliant under his touch. 

“So, how was it with Cheryl?” your father asks, far too invested in the whole thing for Dave’s liking. You’re looking down at your plate, your shoulders slumped forward. 

He shrugs, his hand traveling upwards, beneath the hem of your skirt, pulling your thighs apart a little more. “She’s nice, but– Not the right fit for me, I think.” 

The memory of meeting the woman flashes through his mind. “You must be Dave,” accompanied by a shake of his hand. All wrong, so different from the way it sounds when David falls from your lips. He had wanted to leave right then and there. His grip on you tightens at the memory. 

“Well that’s a shame,” Jim sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I really thought you two were a good match.” 

Dave grunts noncommittally, taking another bite of his food. 

“This one,” your father continues, his eyes falling to you, “has yet to find a good match as well. Not the best choices so far.” He chuckles, either blind or indifferent to the way you seem to shrink in your chair. You mumble something about focussing on school and your career right now, your voice so small that it breaks Dave’s heart. 

“Boys your age are idiots anyway,” he says, grinning at how your eyes widen, his emphasis on your age in no way lost on you. “Wouldn’t want to have them distracting you, right?” 

You nod silently, but fire burns in your eyes when his hand reaches so high that his fingers swirl through the slick that’s covering your upper thighs. Dave grits his teeth, fighting the urge to kiss you right here and now, consequences be damned.

It’s wrong, it’s so so wrong, but it’s like he’s lost in a haze, high on the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. On the way your thighs fall open so willingly for him, always such a good and obedient girl. On the way you both know that you’re bare underneath your skirt, dripping with the filthy proof of what you did together. On the way he’s staked his claim all over your inner thighs, to the point that he’s certain the indents of his teeth are still pressed into your flesh. All while your father has no idea what’s happening right in front of him. 

The secret rebellion of it thrills you, he understands that now. He wonders if that’s what he is to you, an opportunity to do something so deliciously forbidden that you couldn’t resist. He’ll gladly be that for you. The idea to be the person who brought this out in you thrills him too. 

He somehow makes it through the evening. Not a single conversation topic has found its way into his memories. All he can think about, all that he knows he will remember is the feeling of you under his tight grip. All his. 

You had excused yourself when your father brought out the whiskey, squeezed his hand under the table before you stood up, carefully smoothing out your skirt. Call me, you had mouthed, turning back to look at him before exiting the room. 

He knows that he will.

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider putting a smile on my face by reblogging, commenting or sending in an ask <3 thank you for reading!

[punksocks]

BM Lilith Aspecting Ascendant Culture:

*Just based on my experiences, only take what resonates

-Being labeled as a weirdo as a kid and being outcasted from most social groups

-Getting to know the other outcasts and caring for them

-Being seen as feisty and often being blamed for starting fights when you stand up for yourself

-Having authority figures dote on you, often taking too much interest in you and what you’ll do

-Otherwise having beefs for seemingly the most petty reasons with other authority figures (which is crazy like why are grown folks fighting kids)

-Or being surprised that figures you looked up to seemed to have ulterior motives (especially conjuct, square, and opposition)

-Often you grow up being shamed to the point that you don’t grow into yourself and become confident in your Lilith energy until you’re older (late high school, early college, post college even). this is especially true for hard aspects (conjunct, opposition, square)

-People assume you’re mean and find you intimidating and are surprised if you’re nice to them

-Sometimes your kindness can mistaken for weakness and people severely underestimate your power and all of the hardships you’ve gone through in your life

-You may have gone through a period of downplaying your femininity/being a pick me before embracing your femininity/probably becoming a feminist

-You may be drawn towards alternative/unique styles that express a darker femininity

-You may be drawn to having an unnatural hair color (as I write this my hair is pink and orange so I get it)

-You may also identify as non-binary or femme instead of cis because of how much you don’t identify with traditional femininity

-No matter what you wear, it looks s*xy. You could be covered from head to toe and it wouldn’t make that much of a difference

-You may have gone through a period of wearing lots of layers to hide your body shape. Then embracing your curves by wearing more stylized outfits.

-People will often react as if you’re dressed scandalously for work or for different occasions even though the same outfit wouldn’t catch negative attention for anyone else

-Very specific but you may struggle when dating other women/femmes to either close the distance between you or to not unlock some petty behavior with the person you’re dating

-Maybe going through a phase of dating around after you come into your attractiveness. Partially being surprised by the attention (especially if you date men/masc folks) and partially being shocked by how dudes react when you date them (getting possessive and controlling only a few dates in)

-No matter how many people you date you tend to get shamed by friends or family for dating around

-But taking a certain amount of pride in the attention you’re getting after your glow up (if square or opposition your Asc you probably go back and forth between pride and anxiety/disgust)

-Getting favors from total strangers but evil eyes from (some) family/close friends

-Having to be aware of mean girl behavior for the rest of your life (4th house for family/7th & 8th house for relationships/10th house workplaces/1st house every aspect of your life lowkey and the experiences will likely shape your personality)

-Often growing out of friendships because you realize some people don’t actually like you but they’re indulgent on some aspect of your energy (for example, seeing you as strong so they like to “humble you” and make you feel small)

-Being seen as a temptress or a damsel in need of saving but rarely being seen as yourself (treasure the people that do see you clearly and treat you well)

-Being seen as “irresistible” to certain extremes. Trines and Sextiles are more likely to embrace this and squares and oppositions are more likely to be wary of volatile behavior this attracts.

-Older men are nicest to you. Men who are in relationships often ogle you or avoid you most adamantly. And f*ck boys get into you but like just physically. (Guys who claim to not be f*ck boys also can get caught up in the same way)

-In positive romantic relationships you may still find yourself unlocking passion in unexpected ways from your partners (ex. They may be the quiet unassuming type but when you hook up a more intense side of them seems to come out of nowhere)

-Getting dudes that have been in your dms trying to hook up for years (goofy behavior lol)

-Getting shown off by someone your dating but less likely to be introduced to someone’s inner circle as anything more than a friend

-Having guys that pursue you just to try to get you to change how you express yourself (how you dress, how you act, etc)

-Being the friend with all the stories of guys hitting on you in weird ways

-Having an interest in exploring s*xuality and bodily autonomy, but not matching the n*mphomaniac image projected onto you (more so for squares and oppositions)

-In general your s*xuality is a significant part of your personality either through embracing (trine, sextile) it or suppressing it (square, opposition) or by going back and forth between those extremes (conjunct, square, opposition)

[pixelnrd]

I'm really enjoying Jasmine's story! Sex and romance are obviously huge themes for her, how did you decide to make those a focus for her? I've been getting some Sex in the City vibes from her, which feels era-appropriate. Was that your inspiration, or did your ideas come from somewhere else?

Thanks!

Thanks for this ask, I love doing a deep dive into characters and my motivations behind them!

Sex and the City was a huge inspiration behind Jasmine's character, specifically Carrie Bradshaw - she is a young woman who wants to make something of herself and is proud of her achievements and success, but at the same time she wants recognition from the opposite sex (hence her track record with men). She is on-trend and finds glamour and status and money alluring, and she doesn't mind taking legs up where she can with a bit of help from others who have access to those things (like Andrew). She loves her family and friends, but is also a bit selfish and self-interested and lets her desires get the better of her (like her mistake with sleeping with the professor).

Jasmine is a reflection and a product of third-wave feminism and everything it achieved, which is why she is who she is in the 2000s. Her sexual freedom and 'promiscuity' are a result of this, thanks to the third-waves work bringing about sex positivity and a dismantling of taboos around women and sex. However, her character fits squarely into this box of sexually free, attractive career woman. If she were to get married, her sexuality would be expected to be curbed because these roles (professional vs wife vs mother) were still separated from eachother at this point in time (and to be honest, this is still being dismantled even today in 2024). She can't be a career woman and a mother! She can't be a wife and openly sexual! These are things that might impact on her development as we go on...

The other thing I wanted to portray with Jasmine's character in this generation is a juxtaposition with other sexually free females that have come before her in this Legacy.

Think about Daisy, who was sexually motivated and liberal in the 1920s - this got her into trouble several times and affected her entire life, resulting in her running away, unplanned pregnancies, shame over her children's parentage, and an inability to provide for or acknowledge those illegitimate children while with her husband. Daisy couldn't be free to do as she wanted because of social constraints, and when she dared to break social norms (by having sex outside of marriage) she was punished.

Similarly, Maggie in the 1950s was also a sexually liberal female - she enjoyed experimenting with boys from a young age in secret, which led to her Challengers-esque relationship with Em and Alex. She had a lot of children with her husband - which was a socially acceptable way to show the world you were sexual - but she also had an affair with the man she probably should have married in the first place. She then lived the rest of her life feeling guilt over what she did. If divorce was around back then, and socially acceptable, Maggie could have explored the way she clearly needed to at a young age before settling down and becomming a mother.

Jasmine, by contrast to these women who came before her, has so much freedom to explore and experiment before she feels pressure to settle down. And as this challenge nears the end, I wanted her story to reflect how far women have come in that time since her ancestors and their experiences.

And finally... Lovestruck came out when I started this generation, and it all felt a bit fitting to play through the features of this new pack with this particular character, in this particular decade!

[gffa]

One of the biggest hurdles with the Lockwood and Co. books is that they're set entirely from Lucy Carlyle's point of view and there is a whole lot of body shaming that really set my teeth on edge when I first read it. Some of it is still just awful, but I've come around on that I can read a lot of it as Lucy's unexamined issues from childhood rearing their heads in some nasty ways.

Her relationships with all the characters around her are contentious and full of conflict even just in her thoughts, she's so nasty to George, to Holly, to the Skull, to Kipps, to Barnes, etc. It most especially comes out with Holly (and Kat Godwin before her, then Flo Bones as well) and it's very easy to read Lucy as reacting badly to her own attraction to women, her envy of them and her inability to let herself be attracted to them, because she's closed off so tightly.

But it's also her relationship with the Skull, who she constantly argues with and says she hates, she has nothing but poison for it in her thoughts, but as soon as it goes missing, she's desperate to get it back.

It's also in her relationship with George, who she constantly nettles and thinks mean thoughts about, but it's obvious that she cares about him deeply and has grown to love him as a friend, even if she can't necessarily admit that to herself.

Her entire dynamic with Holly is centered around how feminine Holly is, how pretty she is, how Lucy just cannot stop thinking about how Holly dresses, how she does her hair, how soft her skin looks, how her little hand motions are so delicate and proper. And, yeah, some of it is envy and feeling insecure, that other people will like Holly more than her, but it's also just so much attention on all the little details that it comes off as unrealized physical attraction.

And then suddenly, I'm looking at all of the relationships Lucy has with people, where almost all the people she likes and respects are ones she's nasty to. Which clicked into place for me when she went back to visit her home town and was miserable there, the poor relationship she had with her family suddenly making so much sense in the way she rejects people before they can reject her, that she's so terrified of being vulnerable that she schools her thoughts and actions and words into prickly meanness so that she doesn't get hurt when they don't want her.

Lockwood is the exception to this, because he's the one who took all her nastiness and kept being mostly kind to her, he allowed a certain amount of vulnerability to himself and Lucy slowly started to come around on him and thought nicer of him. Sure, part of it is that she has feelings for him and so her thoughts are kinder, but I think it goes hand in hand with the way Lockwood is the one that never really sniped back at her or egged her on in any way, he started to feel safe to her, he started to feel secure to her.

And then she breaks his trust! She sneaks into the locked room to find out about his history, in a moment of anger and frustration, she breaks the thing that he asked them not to poke into, and she knows he would have every right to be angry enough at her to kick her out! But he's nice to her about it! He says, no, it was time to tell you guys about it anyway. He's open and vulnerable about something that she desperately feared rejection over!

Which is of course why her feelings reach a certain point and she has to acknowledge them, she can't deny them anymore, so the slightest push (the ghost wearing Lockwood's face, saying that she would do this to him, get him killed) has her running off from the agency and going independent, because she's terrified that she'll get Lockwood killed/terrified of actually stepping across that line into having feelings that could really hurt her if she's not accepted.

She's complicated and messy and I love her, she's a great character with a great, dynamic arc--but it does require reading into some of the more problematic elements of the character and taking a more generous view of them, even when I know much of the real answer is that the author probably didn't see the problem with the way he would have her describe characters (especially anyone that was overweight) and you have to find the mental line you're willing to walk with that. But if you're okay with wincing through some of the earliest stuff, I think there's a really cool Hot Mess Lady character waiting on the other side.

[valeriianz]

I am imagining a Bi-curious Dream. Human AU. Inspired by this post. (but not at all horny or much explicit). this got a lot softer than i intended.

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

Dream, who goes by Morpheus, has such a stick up his ass. And he’s always only dated women, and he’s always the one getting dumped. And after this last failed relationship, where Morpheus thought for sure he’d found The One (after a record breaking 5 months), Johanna takes him out to a bar to find him a hookup. A rebound. Morpheus grumbles that he doesn’t need a rebound but goes along with it all the same.

Johanna knows of Morpheus’ bi tendencies. Though Morpheus has only mentioned it in passing that he wouldn’t mind dating a guy “if the right one came along.” They went to undergrad together, where they met and how Jo knows Morpheus has certainly kissed a lot of guys, but the idea of ever actually dating one, let alone sleeping with a man, turns Morpheus all shy and unsure. She’s teased him enough about actually stepping out of his comfort zone and actually exploring his attraction, and figures now is the best time to put that curiosity to the test.

A few drinks in and Johanna spots Hob, an old co-worker and invites him over, much to Morpheus’ chagrin. They yell and get excited seeing one another, couple of extroverts that they are, and quickly exchange pleasantries, catching up. Morpheus is seemingly ignored, and he's making it his life’s mission to drown himself in gin and juice and become one with the sticky bartop.

Dream glares at Hob out of the corner of his eyes, sizing him up, hiding behind his drink. Then Hob turns to face him as Jo introduces him and the smile he throws at Dream nearly knocks him off the stool. Morpheus sits up quickly and has an annoying concern for how his hair and eyeliner look.

“Hello, Morpheus.” And Hob extends a hand and Morpheus takes it awkwardly, an unexpected buzz shooting up his arm from Hob’s tight grip on his cold fingers.

Morpheus nods in greeting, afraid if he opens his mouth his tongue might fall out. He’s always been passively attracted to men, found some cute or handsome, but figured it was a superficial thing, or something like envy. He’d never given conscious thought to what it might be like to share… intimacies with another man. His unconscious mind, however…

Hob looked like someone peeled right out of Morpheus’ darkest, lewdess, most shameful dreams. A man with bushy brows and scruffy beard, an easy smile, and kind, chocolate brown eyes.

Okay, maybe not the most erotic image to grace Morpheus’ vision. But the glint behind Hob’s eyes, the smile that was slowly sharpening to a smirk, and the way his fingers dragged along Morpheus’ skin as their hands finally dropped, filled Morpheus with a sudden urgency to drag this man to the nearest dark corner and let Hob have his way with him.

And later that night, fueled by liquid courage and a very confident Hob leading the way, Morpheus allows himself to be pulled against a warm, broad chest and kissed senseless against the wall of a house he’s never been in before.

Hob licks into Morpheus’ mouth like he’s a man starved and Morpheus is a 5-course meal, moaning loud enough to make Morpheus’ skull vibrate. And all Morpheus can do is try to keep up, working his jaw and swallowing down little whines that he can feel bubbling up. Hob is so vocal and handsy, his fingers trailing up Morpheus’ jaw, carding through his hair, gripping the nape of his neck with a teasing bite to his lip that makes Morpheus’ knees wobble, before one hand moves down to his waist, teasing the edge of his shirt and touching pale skin.

Morpheus, for his part, has his eyes squeezed shut and is almost fighting against the urge to give in. Wondering why this is so hard for him. He’s never been kissed like this before, never been held like a precious thing before, and– he knows he’s getting into his own head. Morpheus feels himself break away with a loud, wet gasp, turning his head and mumbling a half-hearted, 

“Wait…”

And, incredibly, Hob does wait. He stands in front of Morpheus and gives him a moment to breathe. To calm down from his own insecurities and nerves. Morpheus feels like Hob is the type of guy to go all the way. The way he’d been flirting with Morpheus at the bar gave him the implication that this wasn’t Hob’s first rodeo. He didn’t boast about experience or prowess, but it was in the way he carried himself, the way he couldn’t stop staring at Morpheus, smiling like he knew he’d end up following Hob home. 

And sure enough, as soon as they’d stepped through the threshold of Hob’s home, he’d turned and pinned Morpheus against the nearest surface and kissed him without warning.

“Hey, it’s okay. I got you.” And Hob kisses the corners of Morpheus’ eyes, rubs soothing circles along his pointy hip bones, and murmurs sweetness in a quiet, calm voice. A voice that slowly makes Morpheus unravel, relaxing in Hob’s hold and tentatively bringing his own arms around Hob’s shoulders and kisses him back, properly. Eagerly.

It’s slow now, lips-only and so sweet Morpheus’ lips part on their own accord and a rush of heat crawls up his neck as he makes a desperate, needy noise. He slips his tongue past Hob’s lips to distract himself from that moment of vulnerability, feeling Hob’s grin, tasting his muffled laughter.

It’s so sensual and soft, it makes Morpheus’ head spin. And then Hob presses his body flush to Morpheus’ and they both realize they’re hard.

Morpheus surprises himself by canting his hips forward, curious to feel how Hob is hard, for him. And smiling his own, self-satisfied smile as Hob sucks in a breath and groans, trailing his lips up Morpheus’ jaw and nosing along the underside of his ear. He grinds his own hips with a little more force and it rips a whine from Morpheus’ throat, his head falling back against the wall with a dull thud and he’s squeezing his eyes shut again.

They rut back and forth for a while, Hob’s hot breath hitting Morpheus’ ear with punctuated groans of pleasure and praise that tumbles from his lips. He bites Morpheus’ throat, gentle enough to not leave a mark but hard enough to make Morpheus jolt, getting a hand in Hob’s hair and encouraging him to continue, which he does with chuckling enthusiasm.

Eventually they slow down, only for Hob to come around, take Morpheus by the chin, and wait for him to open his eyes again. Something in them makes Hob growl, leaning in like he can’t help it and biting Morpheus’ lip.

“We don’t have to go all the way, if you don’t want to,” Hob says, breathless and barely holding himself back. “But I’m dying to suck your cock.”

Morpheus flushes again, grateful for the dim lighting in Hob’s living room and nods eagerly.

The next morning, Morpheus is awoken to the smell of coffee and Hob in his kitchen, preparing breakfast. Morpheus walks in with bare feet, bare chest, flannel pajamas that are hanging off his hips for dear life, and is suddenly hungry.

He sneaks up behind Hob, slotting his pelvis against Hob’s ass and winding his arms around his waist like he belongs there. Like they do this all the time and this isn’t a one-night-stand gone awry. Hob chuckles in surprise, dropping what he’s doing to turn around in Morpheus’ hold and be kissed sloppily.

Morpheus came to the bar with Johanna looking for a rebound, just some meaningless sex to help him forget his ex. But the next morning, he had a boyfriend.

[umeji-writes]

I would like to talk about the Music Festival arc - aka my favorite Mairuma arc until now. I love them all tbh, this is just very close to my heart for several reasons. [cw: non-suggestive discussion of s*x; if you are a s*x-repulsed asexual person you are very much welcome to interact, but this may not be the post for you, take care and proceed with caution ♡ edit: I'm uncensoring the words from here onwards thanks to a kind anon's suggestion] To make it short, I love that the main theme of this arc is pleasure, and the desire for it. Honestly, it's very horny - but not in a slimy or creepy way, which is sadly quite rare in my experience. The appreciation for pleasure coming from love (also platonic love) is there in several layers. First, the plot itself, as Lilith cries out her desire to find "a love that burns like fire". She is not satisfied by most pretenders, and especially this frame spoke to me:

Because... Well... It's so true. I am an adult, and I had my share of sexual partners. The expressions people make irl are not always aesthetically pleasing, but who cares! We are told to strive to be always attractive, but in those moments of intimacy it's really not important, not as much as being fully present and enjoying the moment! Then, can we talk about Kalego please?

I mean, Nishi here went all out and didn't even try to hide her fascination for ...discipline:

(and to be fully clear: I am NOT implying there is sexual tension between Kalego and his students, I am only referring to him!!!) When I saw the whip I couldn't believe my eyes. Of course in that context it's not used that way, but it's very much recognizable as an adult tool... But more on this later. Finally, I really like that the Misfits are growing up and finding out new things about themselves. They are characterized as high school students (even if we don't know how old they actually are), which is when humans tend to have their first experiences and explore their sexualities. They are building together this beautiful show full of emotions and desire, and honestly performing with other people is really an amazing feeling (I am a former musician and theater actor - let me tell you, every performance was fire). Look at their faces: from here...

...to here.

They are shocked, but happy! And definitely feeling ...feelings. And here is my main takeaway: I am really, really sad that sex is a taboo topic in our society, and when there's something about sex, it's mostly treated in a very bad way. This includes sex scenes in generic-audience movies, which I tend to dislike... I hate that sex is handled like a dirty and secret thing. I hate that sex is mostly treated as something that has to do with power imbalance and taking advantage of someone else, usually men that "want to do stuff TO" women (nonbinary individuals like myself not found) - and too often not in a hot and consensual way. I hate that social media are becoming more and more sex-hostile, because investors fear these topics, and use children as a shield to justify limiting contents for adults as well. I hate that sexual education is mainly reserved for talking about pregnancies and, if the students are lucky, prevention of STDs. Solo or reciprocal pleasure? Consent? Treating it as a normal part of life for many people (and not ALL, again, asexual people exist)??? Naaaah, why do that, when you can make people feel shame and embarassment and perpetuate trauma. Again, I am a grown-up now, and while this is legal and everything, I was conditioned to feel some level of shame nonetheless when talking about it irl (which I am working on). The whip I was writing about before (and the kneeling scene afterward)? It was a revolution in my brain. "So... That's a thing we can do...?"

(like that) I plan on doing some adult drawings in the future, but there's a part of me that resists the idea, because adult entertainment usually involves some level of dehumanization... But you know what? I want to take it back and make it about pleasure and enjoyment as it should be. Tbh, I could write a whole essay on the causes for all of the above and how they interact (patriarchy, capitalism, religions as power institutions, etc.), but this is not the place. So I'll just say that I am really, really grateful to Nishi for including this arc in a manga for a young audience, as those are important years to build a healthy relationship with pleasure and one's own body. And as Sullivan said...

I'm very much convinced that Nishi is doing a great job at sending messages for inclusion and social equality in M!IK, taking the role of educator herself. (Other reasons why I love the Music Festival arc are: Soi's story, Clara and Azz becoming closer, Iruma learning the piano, the appreciation of music itself, the immaculate art and more, but that's for another post!!!)

[bitchimasnake-sss]

tumblr au ft. jjk cast!

[part 02]; in which the jjk characters have tumblr lmao

👔nanamikento Follow

I have been bullied by my son, Yuuji, to join this godforsaken app. I do not wish to be here.

♻👨‍🦳 thestrongest

OMG ZADDY YOURE HERE 🤭

♻👔nanamikento Follow

And this is exactly why I refused to join.

7 notes

🧸chosokamo Follow

A girl asked me out at the mall today. I think she fell in love with my greasy hair, eyebags and big emotional baggage.

♻🐟toge-toge Follow

yooo you've got the wet, pathetic, loserboy rizz 🔥🤠

♻🧸chosokamo Follow

Thank You?

#siri what is rizz? #siri is loserboy a compliment? #siri do women find pathetic men attractive? #hey siri? #siri? #this technology is literally so stupid

772 notes

💄yesbara Follow

i think we should (as a society) simply go back to courtship. men try to win over my hand and i kill all of them mercilessly. then i acquire their assets and buy myself some Channel, some Fendi, some Prada. then i will marry my girlfriend.

65,699 notes

🌟todo-takadachan Follow

I love my bro so much, he is the best thing in my life.

#bro #my bro #my brotha #bromance

11 notes

💗yoooooji

This Is The King Of The Curses Using His Vessel's Body To Type a Message. I Will Come For All You Mortals Soon Enough. And Then I Will Bathe In Your Blood. You Brats Shall Feel True Fear When I Finally Unleash My Full Strength.

♻💗yoooooji

Also Megumi Fushiguro, Contact Me At Once. I Need To Talk To You In Private.

♻🐺fushiguroo Follow

Only if you promise to keep your shirt on this time.

♻💗yoooooji

No.

108k notes

🙉nanakomimikopapa

visited shibuya train station with my daughters today! such a busy place.

♻🙉nanakomimikopapa

would be a shame if something were to happen there.

♻👔nanamikento Follow

Geto, what do you mean?

♻👔nanamikento Follow

What do you mean, Geto?

♻👔nanamikento Follow

Geto?

6,022 notes

🍒utahimeehates Follow

Does anyone have any methods to get rid of annoying co-workers quickly?

♻👔nanamikento Follow

I would also like to know.

♻🚘ijichi-official Follow

Me too.

♻🐱MeiMei Follow

Hire a hitman. I'll do it for 10 million yen.

♻🦾tojifushiguro Follow

i'll do it for free as long as it's that white haired freak

2,067 notes

a/n: this is literally so fun to make and im obsessed

[spicybylerpolls]

It's a shame how guarded the fandom is regarding sex. First and foremost because sex, and specifically shame around sex, is heavily, heavily tied to Mike and Will's story.

If Lucas can have a 69 sign above his head while he's sleeping, why is it so hard to believe Mike and Will are having sexual dreams about each other? Especially if you ship them and acknowledge the 69 sign was obviously signaling a sexual dream?

If Lucas can have a reference to dirty magazines under his bed, why is it so hard to believe Mike and Will also have dirty magazines hidden around their bedroom?

If Dustin can have a reference to masturbation, why is it so hard to believe Mike and Will are also interested in masturbation as well?

They specifically put these references in the other, ORIGINAL, party members, who are the same age as Mike and Will, while also including references for them too (that people just can't accept), signaling all these boys are starting to think about sex. The difference is, Lucas and Dustin don't have any shame surrounding who they're attracted to.

I don't know about you (however I imagine this is a common experience for many queer people) but before I accepted that I was attracted to the same sex, I'd constantly find myself watching the women in porn and consciously trying to focus on the man. I'd tell myself things like "oh - you're just interested in how your body will look when you're older" or "oh - it's normal when you watch porn" etc - basically anything to reaffirm that I wasn't gay. And this is all between ages 13-16.

This is exactly how I see Mike, specifically. Starting to notice his attraction to men but consciously repressing it, telling himself he's normal and it doesn't mean anything. And I think people forget (or maybe just feel uncomfortable talking about) this part - that the sexual attraction, the shame in the sexual attraction, is a huge, huge part of realizing you're queer and coming-of-age as a queer person.

And that's why Mike doesn't want to hug Will at the airport (or a big part of it). It feels awkward, even if he doesn't know why. It feels awkward because he feels ashamed for liking Will. I mean the first shot we get of Mike setting eyes on Will in Season 4 is of him looking at Will's chest and then quickly averting his eyes. This tells us everything we need to know - Mike is attracted to Will, feels ashamed about it and doesn't want anyone to know (or likely doesn't even fully understand it himself, but at the very least, knows it's not "right").

Point being, his shame surrounding specifically his sexual attraction to men is one of his biggest issues and failing to talk about it is a HUGE DISSERVICE to his character!

It also does a huge disservice to Will's character, too. The repercussions of this shame, a lot of the time, is Will's situation - not having your first kiss, all of your friends growing up before you, hating yourself because you have a crush on your best friend. All because he's romantically AND sexually attracted to men. This is what Will's thinking. If he wasn't such a freak, if he didn't want to kiss boys, if he wasn't starting to feel sexually attracted to men, then everything would be so much easier. He wouldn't feel like such a mistake.

This is why I think they'll absolutely have a sex scene in S5 and also why I think it will be explicit. I previously thought it'd likely be implied and that that'd be enough but I don't see it the same anymore. Now, I don't think this means it has to be racy, obviously, but just that the audience would see some of it. Quite frankly, doing an implied sex scene, while I wouldn't be dissatisfied, is a disservice to the story.

See, with Jancy, the implied sex scene works. The tension between these two characters has been building for a season and a half and we know they want to have sex. We don't have to see it, we just need to know that they do.

But with Mike and Will? That's not the case at all.

First of all, the tension has been building for 5 seasons, which is the entire series. An implied sex scene would ultimately be a tame ending to this storyline.

Second, Mike and Will specifically feel shame about this act, Jonathan and Nancy don't. We don't need to see their reaction but we need to see Mike and Will's reactions because it completes their characters. Because they have felt shame about this specific thing, not showing them feeling comfortable doing this, with each other, would be incomplete.

Third, think about Steve and Nancy's sex scene - we're shown it specifically because Nancy feels uncomfortable.

Ultimately, there's no need to show Jonathan and Nancy having sex because there's nothing left unresolved. That's what the Duffers actually get right - only showing a sex scene when it's important for the narrative and for the characters. Even Hopper and Joyce point to this, despite them being the oldest characters and the most suitable to have an explicit sex scene, opposed to Steve and Nancy. That's because there's nothing else to tell us about Joyce and Hopper through this sex scene - we know they love each other. I don't see why the Duffers would break this pattern now.

And well, even if you don't want the scene, I don't see how you could argue that the moment Mike and Will decide to have sex isn't extremely important for their characters and would tell us A LOT about how they both feel, especially Mike seeing as we don't get his perspective.

You could argue the kiss would suffice but... does it? A kiss isn't really... sexual. And Romantic, sure. But this wouldn't address the shame they specifically feel about sex. Mike starting to cry while having sex with Will tells us so much more about his character than him crying while kissing Will.

Kissing is also a thing children do. Ending a 5 season, 9 year long coming-of-age project, with two characters who have fought inter-dimensional monsters that quite literally represent their shame, simply kissing? Something we've already seen one of these characters do, multiple, multiple times?

Okay, I guess.

Anyway, I know a lot of these points have already been made, and that this was really long, but I just wanted to say them again because it upsets me so much, especially during rewatch when I see all the themes right in front of me. And I know it upsets other people, other young adults, too. Seeing this experience represented so accurately - one that you might even still feel shame about, one that you went through not too long ago - and not even being able to discuss it openly in the fandom, is sad. Being called a freak or a pedophile for simply suggesting that sex is important here and the Duffers are telling us so. Sex... the thing that literally created us all. And that almost everyone starts thinking about between the ages of 13-14.

Sigh. At least we have this blog. Thank you for that. 🫶🏼

[judasgot-it]

dazai seems to go after women who don’t fall for him easily; what if you did a reader who didn’t really care or be affected by his romantic advances?

oooooo rip Dazai would 100% go CRAZY bro. I don't do yandere but lowkey Dazai would be a bit of a yandere in this case...

Scenario: Dazai getting rejected by reader constantly (Trigger warnings for Dazai's alcoholism and addiction, also for other depression mentions)

The known flirt was at it again.

You knew his name - he insisted on making you ring up his order every time he came to your store every day. It was innocent enough really. You didn't even notice it, since he was so easy to be drawn into a conversation with, and you wouldn't lie when he asked if you thought he was cute.

He was, especially compared to some of the older men you've seen come in, those who would buy cigarettes and alcohol at odd hours of the night. A real shame that he was just as bad as them once you saw him come by time and time again.

The man would buy the cheapest alcohol and some of the cheapest foods, occasionally splurging on some 'nice' sweets - only if he was with seemingly young coworkers of his. At least he was nice in that aspect, not forcing children to pay for themselves whenever he was out shopping for his assumedly drunken nights.

A part of you wished that you could feel attracted to him. He was really charming when he wanted to be.

But his shopping habits disturbed you.

What man, in his early 20s and living assumedly alone, needed to buy so many different medications? You weren't one to judge, but he was just extremely strange.

He might not have realized it either, but you worked day and night shifts at that store - you saw him when he was at his worst buying pre-packed sushi, and you've never seen a man appear more...haggard.

So maybe it was hard to find him attractive when he was put together for work the next day. He might have looked nice, smelling of a strange cologne, but you could never get the picture of him in his slacks, with sweat stains on his shirt, tearing open his pre-packaged sushi like a rabid anime out of the mental movie you held.

He was like the babadook.

It disturbed you deeply.

"Well, good morning my belladonna! Tell me, do you think this wouldn't make just a lovely hour to feel our entangled hands grow cold together? Watching the rising sun fall upon our corpses?"

More than that, somehow.

How did he ever lose his virginity when he flirted like that? You wished you could ask him that one day.

"Let me ring you up, Dazai."

Your boss would kill you if she ever learned that you were rude to customers. Unfortunately, Dazai was just another customer you would have to put up with. His words would simply have to roll off of you.

"You know Ms. y/n, I really wish we could see each other more often, without a counter between us. I know this really great place that serves excellent coffee."

"Better than what you bought?"

Dazai laughed that comment off.

"Oh, you're funny Y/n. They have a little secret about how they keep their coffee so fresh, I'm quite close with the owners you know?"

You just shook your head, placing his items in a bag. He had bought bulk coffee grains and...canned crab? You didn't want to know why he ate that.

"Your total is 9.35, congrats. Cash or card?"

Dazai took his careful time taking out his wallet, leaning onto the counter, and taking up as much of your personal space as he could. He took out his card and not so subtly looked at you as he inserted it into the card reader.

"Y/n, you should really think about my offer. It would be quite sweet, don't you think?"

"Coffee or the suicide?"

Dazai laughed again - his weird wet laugh, the one that made you feel like you were talking with some sort of deranged serial killer. He gave off the vibe. There was something he was hiding in his smile.

His bandages hid something, which you frankly didn't want to know more about.

"Whichever works, I like how your misery feels. It makes me feel less alone in my own."

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. They were empty, dark holes that stared right into you, leaving you exposed. His smile was vacant as well, watching with interest as you absorbed whatever he was. There were many words you wished you could say, but your work cameras were watching this transaction carefully.

"That's nice. I hope you have a good day."

You turned away from him, signaling that the transaction was over.

There was no one else in the store but the two of you, not even the sunlight.

Just you, him, and the silence.

Dazai gleefully reached over, taking his bag into his arms and pressing his body into the counter, leaning his face as close to yours as he could. You could feel his laughs against the low collar of your shirt - his dark eyes as they slowly traced up your form, which still looked right through your body.

He was invading through something deeper, and you wished you could put up some sort of barrier. Crossing your arms over your body did little to ease you as you tried to play him off, trying to give him as little of a reaction as he wanted.

Dazai wasn't a pervert, he wasn't a creep - he was something else.

He wanted something else from you.

It had you on edge. You didn't even know how to stop him from eating that part of you, swallowing you into whatever abyss he was.

That man was human, but every time he came close he made you want to run.

But despite being so close to you, he didn't say anything. No leering comments, no threats.

You heard him leave, which was when you finally had the courage to look at where he last stood.

He didn't even leave anything in his wake.

Nothing to truly disturb you, at the very least.

Just a daisy, which you were sure he had kept in his pocket this entire time.

He was odd like that. The guy always tried to keep his moments elaborate, so he would stick in your head for days.

Unfortunately, it worked. No matter how much you tried to ignore him.

I have no idea if this is actually the prompt haha but I like the idea of Dazai not being like a full-on yandere even though that's kinda canon? But him being like a real freak. Also oml thank you for being so patient cause this was in my ask box forever! and I still have more!

[sbdskate]

Laws of Attraction (Part 4) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings (18+): language, alcohol consumption, COPIOUS sexual themes, references to self pleasure, NSFW for a hot sec

Word Count: 5,548

A/N: Happy Enchante drop day! Remember that time I thought this was going to be a one shot? Well, here’s part 4 and apparently there will now be a part 5 which I’m pretty sure will be the last one unless there is an epilogue. Thank you for your patience, while I had a strong sense of the story I wanted to tell in the beginning, I’ve had some trouble trying to figure out how to wrap it up. As always, any feedback is welcome. If you enjoyed, please like, comment, and/or reblog xoxo

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

Daniel stood there dazed in the middle of the bar, unsure of what just happened. One minute, he and y/n were dancing and laughing, then you were suddenly gone. He felt sad, but he couldn’t pinpoint why.

He barely had a second to reflect when people started swarming him, men and women alike, trying to find their way into the driver’s orbit. Some of them just wanted pictures, some tried to make small talk or flirt. Despite being surrounded be people clamoring for just a fraction of his attention, he was incredibly alone.

It was late, he was tired, and it was time to leave.

-

By the following weekend for the Mexico Grand Prix, you had not spoken to your client since that night in the bar. You wished you had blacked out so you could simply pretend it didn’t happen, or blame your behavior on the excess alcohol, but unfortunately for you your memory of the night was crystal clear. The scene replayed over and over in your head. First comes the shame, at how much you enjoyed the feeling of his touch on your waist and the warmth of your bodies pressed against one another. You wonder what might have happened if you had closed the tiny gap between your lips. Would it have stayed a drunken bar make out session or would it have overflowed to the hotel? Would you have gone to his room or yours? Would it have been sloppy and desperate or slow and sensual? Would he be a gentleman in the morning or would he kick you out? When you finish going through every single permutation of what could have been, that’s when the embarrassment sets in. Embarrassment that you let the whole thing happen and that you basically ran away without an explanation, saying goodbye, or much else. Finally, the wave of guilt over abandoning him after an emotional weekend when he probably needed you most. You couldn’t see how you could come back from this.  

Fortunately you hadn’t had a reason to be in the same room together, but that would soon be coming to an end. Despite the temptation of margaritas and empanadas and tropical sun outside, you mostly stayed in your hotel room, throwing yourself deeper into your work and trying anything to distract yourself from the anxiety of the unknown fallout from what may or may not have occurred in Austin. There was a lot of positive movement happening with both Mercedes and Red Bull, which you should have been ecstatic to share with your client. And yet you were terrified to make contact with him.

As things seemed to be coming to a head in reserve driver negotiations, the partner set up an in-person client meeting on the morning of press day. You hadn’t been this nervous the first time you met Daniel or going into hostile negotiations against Zak Brown and McLaren. You changed outfits no less than seven times before heading out and no amount of power posing made you feel any better. Normally you would have gotten to the meeting at least fifteen minutes early, but you were worried Daniel would show up before Joe which would leave the two of you by yourselves. You uncharacteristically arrived on time, and ended up being the last person to join the meeting. You could tell Joe was slightly annoyed.

“Y/N, so nice of you to join us.”

You cringed. “Sorry. There was…uh, traffic.” You knew it was a lame excuse, but you couldn’t be bothered. You glanced over at Daniel, but he kept his eyes focused on the desk. For a meeting that should have been filled with excitement over the prospect of possibility, it felt somewhat somber.

You went over where he stood with Mercedes and Red Bull. The discussions between Daniel and the teams had been successfully kept under wraps until the last week or so, when a photo of Toto in an Enchante sweatshirt began circulating the internet. Though nothing was finalized, sleuthing fans thought this was an obvious hint that Daniel had signed with Mercedes. While it wasn’t the end of the world, you had hoped Daniel would be able to make his decision without the pressure of public comment or opinion. You were sure he had the mental fortitude to do so regardless, but you felt the need to protect him beyond your professional fiduciary obligations. He had already been through enough.

You pressed through the meeting, keeping your comments technical and brief. As usual you exchanged handshakes at the end before going your separate ways, though he hardly looked your way before he turned to leave. Once out of the room, Joe began to discuss next steps with you but his words went in one ear and out the other. You felt nauseous as the growing pit in your stomach failed to subdue. You thought back again to the night at the bar and your abrupt departure, and the last few days where you easily could have sent a text to reassure him or ease the tension, but you didn’t. You were the attorney and you were responsible for maintaining the attorney-client relationship, which you failed. You had to go find him.

You cut your boss off as politely as you could. “I’m so sorry, sir, I just realized… I forgot my, uh, charger! And I need to… respond to another client’s email. So I have to go.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you ok? You seem flustered today.”

“I’m fine!” You were absolutely off your game, but you didn’t want to show him any signs of weakness. “Just, jetlagged?” You mentally slapped yourself as soon as the words came out of your mouth. While it might have worked for almost any other F1 race on the calendar, Austin and Mexico City were in the same time zone. The partner knew something was up, but he had too many other things to worry about than the mental breakdown of a low level associate.

“Ok. But I expect a draft of redlines by the end of the day.”

You were practically already out the door as you called out “Thank you, sir! I’ll be sure to get those to you as soon as possible!”

You were running around the paddock like a crazy person, unceremoniously shoving media personnel out of the way. You made your way through the maze of hallways and offices, the click-clack of your high heels announcing your presence before you got to wherever you were going.

In your haste, you didn’t notice running past Lando.

“Y/N!”

“Can’t! Don’t have time!” you called back, not even bothering to figure out who was addressing you.

“Y/N! It’s me, would slow down for two seconds?”

Finally, you stopped and turned. “Oh thank goodness.” You doubled over, huffing and puffing from the unexpected cardio. “You can help me. Where’s Daniel?” you asked between breaths.

“He went to his dressing room after your meeting. Whe-?”

You were already around the corner before he finished his sentence. “Great, thanks!”

You barreled your way towards Daniel, your run turning into a lame waddle from the constrictions of your shoes and pencil skirt. You did not pause when you arrived at your destination and pushed the door open without knocking. You doubled over again and leaned against the wall once inside.

“Can I help you?”

You were so exhausted you almost missed the fact that the driver was shirtless. It was a sight to behold, especially after months of imagining what might be underneath. Your eyes lingered longer than they should have on his toned pecs, moving their way down to his chiseled abs and the “v” that pointed its way to his pants. You knew he was still upset with you, but it didn’t stop the small smirk threatening its way to his face. But you were a woman on a mission and you refused to be distracted.

“I’m sorry,” you got out, still panting. “I fucked up.” You looked away while he put a McLaren shirt on, taking the moment to catch your breath.

He sat down and motioned for you to do the same, which you graciously accepted. He took you in. In the span of less than an hour, it felt as though he was looking at before and after photos of an ad but in reverse. You seemed so composed during the meeting and now here you were, blazer lopsided and unbuttoned, hair tousled, sweat beading at your forehead, cheeks flushed, and breathless. It was simultaneously hilarious and insanely hot, but he wasn’t going to let on anything at this point.

“What the hell happened?”

You started talking a mile a minute. “I wanted to talk to you right after the meeting, but Joe wanted to talk about next steps and I tried to get away as soon as I could, but then I couldn’t find you –“

“Not now you dodo, last week after the race.” You blinked a few times. Now that he was in front of you, the thoughts running in your mind from before went blank. He came to your rescue, filling in the silence.

“All I know, is that we were having a good time and then you left me in the middle of a bar by myself without saying goodbye after one of the shittiest races of my life. I haven’t heard from you since, and I know you haven’t been hungover for four days straight. I appreciate you coming in here and apologizing, but respectfully, what the fuck.”

You looked away in shame. You weren’t sure how you were going to handle this without disclosing your feelings. You took a deep breath and swallowed your pride, proceeding cautiously.

“What happened at the bar, and how I acted afterwards, is entirely a me problem and I could have been more… strategicabout how I handled it.

“Strategic!?” You winced and closed your eyes, immediately regretting your choice of words. Clearly insulted, he continued. “Strategic is how you describe a Bond villain, or a business deal, not how you treat a friend-“

You jumped out of your chair, interrupting him out of frustration. “Don’t you get it? That’s the whole problem!” You couldn’t tell if you wanted to hold his hand or punch a wall. “I love that you are basically the human equivalent of a golden retriever. I love how comfortable we are together, and I’m a firm believer that you do better work when you know and like the people you work with. But you are my work at the end of the day. You are my client. There’s literally a whole ethics exam that is separate from the bar exam and it’s really easy. (1) Don’t comingle funds; and (2) don’t sleep with your client.” He raised an eyebrow. You sat back down.

“Obviously, nothing happened on Sunday. But… it felt like it toed the line of what is acceptable in my professional capacity. I know this is probably very one sided and it’s all in my head, but it felt like something could have. If Joe or anyone else ever found out, I could lose my job or my license over something like this. That being said, I do not blame you one bit. I’m the one that let things get out of hand, and I realized it in a single moment, and I freaked out, and left. And I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Daniel looked at the floor, his cheeks dusted slightly pink as he processed your admission. “It wasn’t in your head,” he whispered. His gaze rose to meet yours, but you covered your face with your hands.

“Fuck, don’t tell me that.” You tried to keep your tone light as if you were trying to joke it off, but you were very serious. You had convinced yourself this was a delusional fantasy of your mind’s creation, which would have been very easy to let go. But now it had been spoken into existence with the revelation that those feelings were reciprocated. It had legs and took up space. It was terrifying. You sighed as you slouched back in your chair, feeling defeated and mind reeling. “Look. Let’s just chalk this up to the fact that we’ve been spending a stupid amount of time together for the last however many months. Can we please just pretend last weekend never happened so we can move past this?”

Daniel sat for a moment. Of course he had forgiven you as soon as you stampeded your way into his room. There was a lot about Texas he wanted to forget, but his day with you was not one of them. Maybe you were right that the feelings the two of you evidently had for each other were just the product of forced proximity, but right now he didn’t want to believe that. Time and time again this season when he felt like he couldn’t go on, you had been there with support and compassion. You grounded him while he mellowed your intensity. You provided logic and reason while he extracted adventure and vulnerability. He was Yin and you were Yang. You couldn’t make up a connection like that. Yet, he would never want be the reason you lose your license, let alone the job you love so much.

Looking at you now, all he wanted to do was scoop you up and kiss you. Instead, he stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

You smiled softly, giving a firm handshake. “Thanks.” You paused. “So, we’re good… right?”

Of course you were. How could you not be? He had a million things he wanted to say. Instead, all he could get out was: “Yeah. We’re good.”

-

You weren’t sure what was in the water. Maybe it was you, or next year’s team prospects, or simply the energy of Mexico, but Daniel gave his best performance of the season finishing a strong P7. For the first time since you met him, a genuine smile graced the driver post-race. Professionally, you knew this would be great to leverage in finalizing negotiations. But as his friend, your heart was exploding with pride. The crowd was roaring in celebration, everyone was a Daniel Ricciardo fan. After a tough season, you had forgotten this side of him. What you wouldn’t do for those dimples. You kept your distance though, allowing him to revel in the spotlight. It was killing you not to run up to him, but you wouldn’t have been able to get to him if you tried.

The post-race interviews would probably take a while so you decided to head out. As you fought your way through the media, you felt someone tap your shoulder. You assumed it was just standard foot traffic, so you kept moving until you heard someone call your name. You were shocked to find Christian Horner trying to flag you down.

“Y/N!”

“Christian! What a pleasant surprise, I assumed you would be busy.”

“I saw my favorite lawyer walk by, I had to say hello.”

Christian was an interesting character. Admittedly you had not looked forward to working across the table from him initially. He came across as arrogant, hypocritical, and conniving. You thought his only redeeming quality was that he was married to Ginger Spice, but soon found that was only second to how much he cared about Daniel. Given how Daniel departed Red Bull all those years ago, you wrongly assumed that bridge had been burned so you were nervous when you first approached the team for negotiations. It was quickly apparent how unfounded those feelings were after the first email. Christian was there when Daniel made his F1 debut in 2009 as an awkward teenager and watched him grow and molded him into a seasoned driver. It was clear he would give him both kidneys in a pinch.

“Honored and humbled,” you teased. You were almost shouting due to the swarm that quickly surrounded you due to Christian’s presence. You continued walking, “Running away from interviews now, are we?”

“Funny you should say that. I am, because I keep getting some interesting questions about a certain third driver seat.” He was being coy, and knew exactly what he was doing with all the journalists around you. “Are there any updates I can report back on?” He was more persistent than a used car salesman.

“None at the moment, I’m afraid. I promise you’ll be the second person I tell when I do.”

“Second? Who has me beat?”

“Your wife, of course.”

“Maybe if this thing closes, Geri might be open to grab some celebratory drinks.”

“I don’t know Christian, that sounds like a bribe to me.”

“Good seeing you as always, counselor.”

You laughed as you parted ways. You had been able to fly under the radar, until recently when snooty media noticed you going in and out of various meetings. You thought everyone would leave you alone when Christian left, but a few eagle-eyed personnel stayed with you.

“Does this mean that Daniel Ricciardo has a home for next year?”

“Can you confirm Daniel is going to Red Bull?”

“I’m unable to disclose any information, those discussions are protected by attorney-client privilege.”

Legal obligations be damned, the handful of media continued to follow you. You repeated the same statement in eight different ways, you tried ignoring them to no avail. You continued walking, hoping at a certain point they’d give up. Certainly there were at least a hundred other people around the paddock significantly more important and interesting than you.

“I think you guys confused the pretty lady for me?” You recognized the voice immediately. You were thankful for your savior shifting the attention away from you, except that the swarm around you returned ten-fold in an instant. The Australian entertained their questions while helping you navigate the crowd. You knew he and his PR advisor had prepped for this, and you were impressed how he skillfully dodged their questions while making them feel as though they had gotten a profound, headline-worthy snippet.

He fought the instinct to put his hand on your back to help guide you through the mob. You stayed close though, unnerved by the increasing number of people around you. As you continued to walk side-by-side, unsuccessfully willing yourself to become invisible, your fingers grazed. Instinctively, you flinched and pulled your hand away at the contact. He continued engaging with the media but took a moment to meet your eyes. His gaze was not judgmental nor offended, instead offering you reassurance. You realized how silly you were being and dropped your hand. The tips of your pinkies momentarily met again and the warm feeling you felt in the bar before everything went sideways came bubbling back. Only this time it made you feel safe and secure, not scared or embarrassed.

“As fun as this has been guys, I have big plans with some tequila shots and a mariachi band that I must attend to.” Even his excuses could charm the pants off the most scrutinizing reporter. He politely excused the two of you, pulling you away into McLaren hospitality. The doors shut behind you, immediately muffling the outside noise.

“Is it always like that?”

He took one look at you and burst out laughing. You might be able to keep certain thoughts to yourself, but often times your facial expressions gave you away as they did now. Your eyes, wide and unblinking. Your mouth, contorted into downward frown. In the distance, *sirens*.

“Don’t laugh, that was traumatizing!” you whined.

“In all fairness, it didn’t always used to be this bad. But you get used to it.”

“Please, you were born to be in the spotlight. The camera loves you.”

“Just the camera?”

You gave him your most aggressive side eye. It was hardly an appropriate comment given your conversation on press day, but you knew he was just joking. You raised your hands. “You know what, that’s on me. I walked into that one.”

“Had to go for the low hanging fruit.”

You looked around. McLaren hospitality was quiet, but not empty. You hoped no one noticed the light flirtation that was taking place. You changed the topic.

“I forgot to say congratulations on today! You must be so proud of yourself.”

“Yeah, it feels nice.” You know what else feels nice? “It’s been such a long, hard season. Y’know?” You know what else is long and hard? “I’ve just been really pounding away with trainings and everything -” You know what else you can pound?

You smiled and nodded while you continued to tally the that’s-what-she-said jokes and innuendos in your head.

“- and I feel like there’s been this gaping hole -” Surely he has got to hear himself.

You bit your lower lip to keep from giggling and cursed yourself for your filthy mind and having the sense of humor of a twelve year old boy.

“-but all in all it’s been a good day, yeah?” Finally.

“Yes, for sure. I’m really happy for you.” There was a pregnant pause before either of you spoke again. He could tell that you were distracted though he wasn’t sure why. You were concerned about keeping yourself in check.  

“Anyways, this has been lovely as always. Enjoy the rest of your night, I don’t want to keep you from your Mariachi band.”

“You’re not going to celebrate?”

You looked around, again being mindful of potential witnesses. “What are you talking about, we’ve been celebrating your points finish since the end of the race. You go have fun, I was just going to stay here and get some work done until things clear out a bit more.”

“Not for me. It’s Halloween, you know.”

Actually, you had completely forgotten. But you quickly realized where this conversation was heading. “That’s nice.”

“Lando wants to show off his DJ side hustle at some club. It will be fun.”

“Now there’s something spooky,” you said sarcastically.

“You should come.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

The stare down between you continued as you went about your delicate dance around the elephant in the room. He took a step towards you and grabbed you gently by the shoulders.

“Nothing will happen. Promise,” he whispered. You looked up at him.

“I don’t have a costume,” you lightly countered.

“We’ll get you one.”

You pursed your lips. You had a million other excuses in your head, but you trusted him. How could you say no?

-

It had been a while since you had been in a club, and truthfully you weren’t sure you were cut out for it any more as you approached thirty. The flashing lights and heavy bass were giving you a migraine. That being said, it was a very different experience than you remember and being the guest of a VIP had its significant perks. When you got to the venue you almost didn’t even get out of the car when you saw the line down several blocks. As it so happens, when you’re a Formula 1 driver you can skip the line. And get attentive bottle service as opposed to fighting your way to the bar and pray the bartender notices you. Not to mention easy access to the DJ booth. As he had assured you, there were plenty of other people around to act as buffers.

Sure enough, Lando was at the helm of the DJ booth along with his girlfriend and a few of the other drivers and their respective significant others. As soon as the others saw you, they burst out into laughter. If you were ever concerned whether you could ever fit into Daniel’s world, this experience quelled any uncertainty. What Daniel’s skeleton costume lacked in creativity, yours’ made up for in leaps and bounds. Why be a sexy nurse or police officer when you could be American Daniel Ricciardo? American flag bomber jacket, cowboy hat, belt buckle, poorly drawn facial hair and all - which looked even sillier given your short stature. It was clear the resourceful last-minute look was well-received and earned you a warm welcome.  

As the night went on and the drinks flowed, you leaned more into your Danny Ric persona including donning a poor Australian accent. Daniel continued to converse with the other drivers but watched you from a distance, trying to remain respectful of your prior agreement. Even with your face covered in smudged eye makeup to mimic his beard, he loved seeing you in his clothes. You were practically swimming in his jacket and he was sure it was the cutest thing he had ever witnessed. When you thought no one else was looking, you subtly grabbed the collar and gave it a sniff, deeply inhaling the owner’s fragrance.

Seeing you try to pick up his scent caused something primal in him to awaken. In another world he would have put on his usual moves to woo a lady back to his hotel room, which admittedly didn’t take much. First, he would buy you a drink. Then after some short flirty back and forth, he would move the two of you to the dancefloor. He would be behind you while you grinded - in a club packed like this, your bodies would be pressed closely together. He would place his hands on your waist and slowly move them down to your hips, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. Eventually he would leave kisses on the side of your neck, while finding your hands to hold. He would spin you around and ask if you wanted to go back to his place. Inevitably you would say yes, and the two of you would leave and begin your makeout session in the back of his private car to avoid suspicion by nosy paparazzi. Finally when you arrive at your final destination, he would fuck you senseless.

His mind was reeling at the possibilities. But you were no ordinary lady and you didn’t deserve his usual moves. You deserved so much more. And he couldn’t give you any of it.

Meanwhile, the constancy you had to stay away from your muse diminished as the night went on. The champagne was easily accessible and went down even easier. The club was hot and stuffy, though it was unclear if it was from everyone’s collective body heat, the Mexican climate, or both. You decided to take off the jacket, wrapping it around your waist, leaving in you a plain white tank top. It was far from being the most scandalous outfit in the room, but Daniel was doing everything in his power not to stare. It was a stark contrast from the conservative suits and dresses he’d gotten used to seeing you in, showing off every curve of your body. Again, he should have been turned off by the beard makeup alone but it endearingly complimented the cleavage that threatened to spill its way out of your shirt. Eventually you found yourself next to him again.

“G’day mate,” you said tipping his hat. You weren’t sloppy, but it was obvious that your usual social filter was long gone.

“Is that absolutely necessary?”

“What are you talking about, I’m Daniel Ricciardo. This is my voice. Pew pew pew” you gave him some finger guns and blew them out before returning them to their imaginary holsters. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“That is by far the worst Australian accent I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“I can switch to Steve Erwin if you want.”

“Please don’t.” You ignored him.

“Crikey! Here we see the Formula 1 Driver in his natural habitat.” You gestured over to Pierre shamelessly trying to flirt with a model with a bottle of Ace in hand. “Ah yes, the young male has spotted a potential mate. We will now get to witness his intricate mating ritual.”

He watched your face as you continued your animated nature documentary play-by-play of Pierre. He always felt lucky when he got to see this side of you. Silly, unfiltered, and unincumbered by responsibility.  

He leaned into you. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“I am. Are you having fun – oh!” Someone had pushed their way past you forcing you to fall into the driver, inadvertently smushing your bodies together. He placed a protective hand on the small of your back further pulling you into him while trying not to spill the drink in his other hand. The buzzing returned with a vengeance. It was hard to ignore the soft of your breasts pressed against his muscly torso. You blushed profusely at the new sensation of your hips meeting, feeling the bulge of his pants against your pelvis.   

“Are you ok?” You finally pulled your bodies away from each other, your cheeks on fire from the heavy and unfamiliar contact.

“Oh I’m fine. But on that note, I should probably head back.” You hoped he would he would attribute your flush to all the champagne you consumed, and prayed your “beard” was covering for you. The fluttering sensation between your legs refused to cease.

“Ok, I’ll call the car.”

“No, no, I can just call an uber it’s fine.”

“You shouldn’t leave by yourself.” It took a minute for you to realize he was looking out for your safety, not inviting himself to your hotel room. You again felt embarrassed at your own misinterpretation.   

“I don’t want to make you leave though, you should keep celebrating.”

“I’ve celebrated enough, I’m happy and tired and ready to go.”

“Are you sure?” He smiled and turned his hand into a fake phone.

“I’m calling it,” he said into his hand. You laughed at the reference to the joke he had with Lando about ‘calling it a day,’ thankful that he found a way to break the tension.

-

The car ride back to the hotel was relatively quiet. You squeezed your legs together to quell the growing heat below your waist and kept your hands in your lap to prevent them from accidentally wandering. Your heart rate had not slowed since you bumped into one another. You closed your eyes to try to center yourself and redirect the energy of your raging hormones.

Two feet away, Daniel was in a very similar situation dealing with his own demons. The smell of your perfume mixed with this own cologne intoxicated him. He forced himself to think of his home in Perth to keep his mind from wondering to all the ways you could be bent right then and there in the back seat.

You thanked the driver getting out of the car. The walk to your respective rooms felt like an eternity. You pressed for your floor when you got in the elevator and waited for him to do the same, but he did not move.

“What floor are you?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll walk you to your room.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.”   

“I just want to make sure you’re safe.” You looked at him from the corner of your eye.

“Fine. I’ll allow it.”

You again stood there in silence side by side as you waited to reach your floor. You cursed the mirrored walls of the elevator. With a few drinks in you, you allowed your lidded eyes to wander all over Daniel’s reflection from the neck down. Fortunately for you he didn’t notice your ogling, but only because he was doing the same thing. In the middle of your respective daydreams, your pinkies accidentally grazed again, pulling you back to reality. Your eyes finally met in the mirror.

“Sorry,” you said under your breath, taking a step away from your client.

“All good.” You both diverted your gazes for the rest of the short ride. You got off the elevator and walked to your room.

“Well, this is me.” You paused, finally making eye contact again. “Thanks for inviting me out, I had fun tonight.”

“Me too.”

“Oh, before I forget here’s your hat and jacket.” You went to remove the hat but he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it, they look better on you anyways.” It was a questionably appropriate line, but he didn’t care. At this point, neither did you.

“I’m not sure when I’ll wear them again, but thanks.” You smiled to yourself, your hands fidgeting with the fabric of his jacket. He was still looking at you when you looked back up. The chatty driver was uncharacteristically quiet. You were both stalling, though it was unclear what for. You decided to rip off the band-aid.

“Good night Mr. Ricciardo, congratulations again.”

“Good night y/n. I’ll see you in Brazil.”

“I’ll see you in Brazil,” you repeated.

When the door shut, he placed his hand on it for a moment. His mind, again, going to all of the places that were off-limits. With a sigh he left for his room.

On the other side, you leaned your head against the door and squeezed your eyes shut. Sloppily undoing your jeans, you stuck a hand down your underwear to offer relief from the building tension. You were soaked. With reckless abandon, you grabbed your vibrator and shamelessly indulged yourself in the filthiest fantasies regarding your client the rest of the night.

Taglist: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @wewoo1233 @monzabee

[1989withstyle]

Recently I sent in an anon to @alittlebitofloveliness about my interpretation of a female Dallas Winston! So I thought I’d expand my insight on the parallels/contrast between fem Dally and fem Darry.

Now Dallas Winston in the book reeks of toxic masculinity and the ideas of what masculinity was at the time. That being said FEMALE Dallas Winston would to a certain extent portray toxic femininity as well. Except Dallas would NOT adhere to the feminine standards of the time. As stated in the book, Dallas isn’t a physically attractive person, not in the way the Curtis Brothers are. It’s one of the reasons Dallas as a character is treated much more harshly than anyone in the gang.

A female Dallas as a result of not being attractive would probably take the route of “not like other girls” or whatever the equivalent of that is in the 60’s. It doesn’t help matters that she doesn’t have any strong female role models to look up too or to help her navigate girlhood. To make things worse she’s not pretty, or slim or tall the way a Fem Sodapop or Darry would be. She’s short,curvy, and is HIGHLY opinionated. All traits that many people would not approve of the time. I’m not necessarily saying she’d be plus size, but I do think she would be viewed that way at the time considering she has curves to her, which would be frown upon during the time. You also have to remember that anything pre 2000’s (really pre 2010’s) considered people who had curves to them, to be overweight.

(Ahah…good old 2000’s with its body shaming 🫡)

Back to the point! Dallas as a result of not being seen as physically desirable, I think would heavily reject femininity as a result of not fitting into those standards. BUT also the way she grew up comes in to play as well. She’s seen the way that the women around her got treated by the men in her lives. How the girls she played with at recess were sexualized at a frighteningly young age. How those girls would later end up in abusive relationships, or some would end up in less that savory jobs. I like to think that also would play a huge part in her rejecting femininity as a whole. Seeing that at a young age would horrify Dallas, to the point she flat out rejects being seen as feminine. She’s seen what happens when you fit into those standards and she refuses to conform as a result.

(Fem Dallas definitely reeks of internalized misogyny)

Dallas in turn carry herself as loud,opinionated, and would refuse to dress conservatively. I think she’d be a tomboy with a girly streak. Not completely masculine, but definitely not girly either. She’s stuck in this middle ground due to rejecting anything feminine growing up. To pull from movie examples she’s a mix of Janis Ian,Kat Stratford, and DEFINITELY Natalie Scatorccio from Yellow jackets.

I do think a fem Dallas would look down on girls who do embrace being soft and girly and sweet. She would find them to be stupid,weak, and would just add them to the list of reasons of what’s wrong with their society. Though this also stems in part due to her own jealousy. Even if she wouldn’t admit it, I feel like there are times where Dallas wishes she could be seen as delicate and soft. Which is why I think she has a soft spot for fem Johnny, because yes Johnny is sweet and loves everything feminine, and in a way is everything Dallas CAN’T be. Though their dynamic in this universe is gonna be saved for a later rant.

Now that I’ve established how I would view a Fem Dallas…now let’s discuss my thoughts on a Fem Darry in this universe. As we all know Darry is the golden boy of Tulsa. As a girl this would not change, except she’d be seen as the All American girl. She’s tall with long and slender legs, lean and flat chested. In my mind she looks like Julie Newmar did, just maybe a little bit more leaner. She would definitely check off all the boxes on how a women should act and look like at the time. She’s outgoing,sweet, and doesn’t really voice her opinions out loud. BUT In the same way that Darry doesn’t necessarily act like a toxic male, Fem Darry would not act like a submissive housewife. She values her education and strongly believes women are made for more than being a wife. She craved to get out of Tulsa and to have a proper career for herself. She had dreams bigger than being a mother and a housewife. But things changed when her parents died. She lost any hope of going to college and making something for herself. Instead she’s stuck working in a domestic field the way that most women were at the time. Nurses,teachers, and secretary work were the only real career paths at the time. So I imagine Darry most likely went on to be a teacher here.

Unfortunately for Darry, she has no choice but to play along with society’s rules. Especially if it means being able to support her sisters. She HAS to smile, and be sweet and patient even if she feels like yelling most days.She has to act prim and proper, and wear skirts. Even if she desperately just wants to wear pants.She’s trapped by societal norms in the same way Dallas is. The difference is that Darry uses her femininity to her advantage, while Dallas actively fights against it. Both are representations of femininity in their own way. I think as a result of how both girls act they often clash most of the time. ESPECIALLY when it concerns handling Ponyboy. Darry what’s Ponyboy to have an easy time in life so often she projects certain standards/views on femininity onto Ponyboy. Whereas Dallas often encourages Ponyboy to go against those standards.

Anyway I could go more in depth but I think that pretty much covers my own take on the Genderbend Outsiders Universe. I hope this makes sense to ya’ll!

[mikyur]

The ghost of the theater~

Yandere oc x Gn Reader

Warnings: watching the reader, slight obsession, mention of death, general Yandere behavior.

You find yourself in an office room of a theater, your office and your theater, your uncle recently died and in his will he made you the new owner of his precious theater.

At first you didn't want to accept such a responsibility, but remembering the few times you visited him you realized how much he loved that place.

And with that you agreed to take care of and manage the famous theater of your dear and only uncle and make this place even more famous, it's a shame that not everything is a bed of roses and soon problems began to arise.

And the problem was that thanks to his uncle's death, the theater's audience fell, as if only his presence made that place work, and without him it's as if everything had lost its life. And you didn't know what to do to reverse it.

And now what do we do? .You ask the manager, one of the men your uncle trusted most and who you knew was willing to do whatever it took to keep this place afloat.

Well, I was thinking of something that might bring the audience back, I just don't know if you'll agree . He speaks a little anxiously.

Right now I'm accepting anything.

I was thinking about doing a presentation on the story 'The Duke's Madness'.

And why do you think I wouldn't accept that?. You ask genuinely confused.

Don't you know the story and what happens when some theater tries to recreate it?.

No, I don't know. At your response he sighs and adjusts his glasses before looking at you again and speaking.

The story tells about a duke who, after going through humiliation and being rejected by his childhood friend and love of his life, makes a deal with a demon and with that he gains powers and with With these powers he attracts women to his forest mansion and these women become his wives forever.

Wow... this story is very interesting, but I suppose there's more, right?.

Of course there is more, but I'm not going to tell you, you'll have to look for the ending on your own, but the most important thing here is that there is a legend about this story, which says that all the theaters that tried to recreate it disasters happened.

Disasters?.

Yes, some have tried but bad things have always happened to them, like actors getting hurt in rehearsals, some employees getting sick and even deaths.

... serious?...

Well, that's what they say, but I don't particularly believe that, just as I don't believe the rumors that there's a ghost here.

Wait, they say there are ghosts here?

Yes, have you never heard? Kind of strange since you've already been here for three days. He speaks and adjusts his glasses back on his face.

No, I didn't know any of that. You said trying to absorb all the information suddenly given to you.

Anyway, I don't believe in these things and I really hope you don't either.

No, I don't believe it, so do you believe that this story will really help us to build the theater again?

It's what I expect.

...ok then, you can start preparing everything for the play because that's the story we're going to show at the reopening!. You don't know where it came from but you feel a sudden enthusiasm and hope that everyone else has the same enthusiasm to make the presentation.

Right now. He says this to you and leaves to start his work.

Ghosts are... they don't exist You tell yourself and start doing your own work.

Time passes and once again you are the last person to leave the theater, as a boss your job ends up being the longest, and yet another night you are walking to the main door to go back to your home.

But unlike other nights, this time you felt cold, a slight current of cold air passed you from behind, which is strange since everything was closed so there was no way wind passed through there, and even stranger and scarier was the sound of a person singing a beautiful melody on the speakers You hadn't left them on, there was no reason for anyone to leave them on, and who was singing?

Gathering your courage you decided to go after the voice, which was definitely in the stage area, it was probably an actor singing, he or she must be training, that's definitely it, it has to be That's what you thought going to the place of the melody.

But when we got there, another surprise was that there was no one on stage and the music had stopped, you sighed with relief, it must have been all in your tired head and almost turning around to leave. You see a person on one of the benches in the middle of the stage, and your fear returned a little but, overcome by curiosity, you went there to see who it was and ask them to leave the place since it was closed.

Look, I'm sorry but the theater is closed so I ask you to leave. You speak approaching the person.

I know it's closed, but I can't leave. You got close and saw that the person was extremely white and their clothes were very beautiful, almost as if they were from some ancient story.

As? You can not exit?

I can't, I'm stuck here.

What do you mean you're stuck there? Sorry girl but you better leave soon before I call the police.

How rude of me She finally leaves the place she was sitting in front of me and leans down to make a gesture of introduction, one of those very old ones that you only see in movies about castles and such. I'm Levi, but you can call me the ghost of the theater.

What?. You couldn't have heard right, right?

It's a pleasure to meet you, the most beautiful person who has ever stepped foot here and I must warn you right away that I am not a girl. He then says laughing a little at the end.

This can't be true. This person who you now know is actually a boy cannot be a ghost, ghosts don't exist!

This is the purest truth, as true as its beauty.

You remain silent, not knowing what to do or say, and then he sees that you are in trouble and decides to take your hand, or I mean, he tried to take you but you only felt a slight tingling and a cold feeling.

It saw? I'm not a living being like you, but I was before and used to be on that stage.

You... were an actor?

Yes, I loved this place, and I precisely died here, ironic, right?. And again he laughs, but I feel a little melancholy coming from him.

So that's why you're here?

Yes, I can't leave and I don't want to leave, and I must confess I'm surprised that you're still here talking to me instead of running away.

My uncle always said that we should be afraid of the living and not the dead, and you don't scare me.

Your uncle was an amazing guy, it's a shame he already had to go, I will miss him.

I will miss him too. You say thoughtfully, remembering the moments you spent with your uncle.

Well at least you're here and I know you'll take good care of my house. He says and reads with a smile.

How are you sure I'll take good care of it here?.

'Cause I feel it, and I trust a pretty face.

You blush a little at his speech and look away from his smile.

In any case, I have the impression that you purposely lured me here.

Yes, yes I did it, you are really smart!

Why?.

Because I wanted to be able to talk to you, since you arrived I have been watching you and I wanted to finally talk to you face to face.

Have you been watching me?. You ask surprised.

Yes! All the time, without stopping looking at you for even a second.

Wow...that's kinda...creepy?.

Scary? I don't think looking at something beautiful all the time is scary. He says thoughtfully and then looks back at you with a smile.

Ok...but from now on you can stop staring at me from the shadows, if you want to talk to me you can come to me, ok?.

He didn't say anything and just disappeared from view, as if he had never been here.

Levi?. You call him to make sure this wasn't all in your head.

I promise not to stare at you from the shadows anymore, little star~

I hear his voice as if it came from the wind and it gives you chills.

Will he really stop? Did this really happen? You ask yourself this, returning to the entrance so you can go home.

Sorry for any writing errors 7w7