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softquietsteadylove · 29 days ago

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Helloo, how are you?

So its halloween and i have a little request for something scary. Maybe the eternals somehow end up in this very old and problaby haunted house, and then the ghost in said house take a liking for Thena, so they start to hide her and make the others see her when she is not there. And poor Gil is more scared that he would like.

(Also thank you for answering to my asks🩷😭)

"This place really is massive," Gil commented mildly as he moved the flashlight around the walls. It was just the sound of their steps and their breathing. The halls of this old asylum were oppressively quiet.

"It's easily the largest space we've ever been in," Thena agreed as she too moved moved her light to examine their surroundings. "Its a good thing the others agreed to come with us to man the equipment."

Their friends were being good sports about it, whether or not they were present as true believers or because if half of their group was already in, they might as well all come.

"I hope they don't hate me for dragging them out here all Halloween night," he gulped as they turned a corner down - what a surprise - another pitch black hallway.

Thena scoffed at the idea, though, allowing him to walk even closer to her, all but clinging to her arm. "Please, all they would be doing is loitering at Phastos' anyway. He and Ben would be watching something, Makkari and Druig would be pretending not to make out in the corner and Ikaris would be trying - and failing - to hold Sersi's hand during the whole movie."

Gil snickered beside her. Thena's observations could seem cutting at times, but they were never all that inaccurate. And they could be pretty funny, in that way. "I'm sure he'd get there eventually."

"I have yet to see it," she drawled about their mutual friend, more frenemy when it came to her and Ikaris in particular. "Speaking of, when did they last check in?"

Gil pulled pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Ground floor, do you copy?"

"Ugh, Gil--aye, we're still 'ere. You don't have to go all air traffic control for it."

Well, if he was going to be such a stick in the mud. Gil huffed, "roger that, Party-Pooper."

"Oi!"

Thena took his hand and pulled the walkie closer to her. "Sersi, tell us if he holds onto you too tight and we'll switch floors."

"Watch it!"

The constant radio static of the channel clicked again and Sersi laughed. "He's really quite all right, you two. Anything up there?"

"Nothing, so far," Thena sighed before remembering to add, "over and out."

Gil smiled as he put the walkie back in his pocket. Thena probably thought it was silly too, but she would never actually say anything. It was one of the many ways in which she indulged him on these ghost hunts. "Hey."

She looked at him, wondering what had caught his attention. Once she saw him wiggling his hand at her, her smiled turned a little bit shy as she slipped her hand into his. "Do you think they'll know what to look for?"

"I told them about what all the equipment does, they should be able to tell if they get any activity," Gil murmured as they turned down a hall into a more residential looking area. "Whoa, this looks like an actual house."

"This must have been an area for those in a palliative sort of care, like a true hospice," she muttered, pressing closer to him. It was still old floors and concrete walls, but there were now rooms with more than nothing, some even still had an old metal bed frame in them. There was a dresser or two, even a mirror.

Gil winced as their flashlights both hit it head on. He lowered his, but he blinked and rubbed his eyes after the fact. "Can't believe something like that is still standing in a place like this in one piece."

Thena had no comment on it, apparently.

"Kinda freaky, right?" he sighed as he rubbed at his eyes again before shaking it off. "Thena?"

He looked around.

"Thena?" he called out with a little more urgency. He moved the flashlight around, plenty of the room doors were open, but he would have heard her. He would have felt her, wouldn't he? "Thena?!"

He rushed to check each of the rooms, forgetting how creepy everything was. His stomping feet were echoing all over the place, but that didn't matter. "Thena, where are you?!"

All that came back was his own voice bouncing around. He was starting to panic.

"Thena, please, answer me!" he panted, even moving the creaky, old doors to make sure she wasn't hiding somewhere. How could she have just vanished into this air?

He shouldn't have let go of her hand.

"Thena, please!" he shouted, retracing their steps, shining his flashlight down every hall he passed. He knew most of them led to dead ends. Where could she have gone? His hand pulled out the walkie-talkie again, fumbling with it a little. "G-Guys?!"

"Gil, what's wrong?"

"Th-Thena!" he gulped, knowing they needed more information than that. "She was right next to me and-and now-"

"Whoa, Gil, slow down. Nothing's happened to Thena, I'm sure she just went to look at something that caught her eye," Sersi attempted to diffuse his worry.

"Why the hell weren't you keeping an eye on her?" Ikaris snapped at him in sharp contrast.

"Oi," Druig chimed in on his set. "You all need to calm down, I just saw 'er."

"What?" Gil frowned. Druig and Makkari were on the second level, although most of it was sectioned off thanks to a fire from the last century. He rushed to the stairs, "you're sure?"

"Yeah, I saw her walk clear through that light grid you put up, actually," Druig narrated. He paused and then continued, "Kari saw'er goin' down the far stairwell."

"You mean the one to your left?" Gil asked, rushing down the main stairs so quickly he almost tripped at the very bottom. But he took off, full on sprinting.

"Yeah?"

Based on where they had set up, there was no way Thena could be on the stairwell to their left, because it led to absolutely nowhere, just a collapsed hallway downstairs and a boarded up room at the top. Whatever they had seen wasn't Thena.

"Keep your nightvision cam on, okay? And you two stay there--and stay close together!"

"Gil, man, you okay?" Ikaris asked a little more sympathetically, obviously hearing the urgency in his voice over the loud and static-y walkies. "Like Sersi said, I'm sure Thena's just fine."

"I'm on my way to you, just sit tight," Gil huffed. His chest felt tight, like it was on fire. He looked around, only now on the second floor. This place was such a massive hell hole, who knew what kind of malevolent spirits were in here. "Guys?!"

"Hold yer bloody horses, man, hell," Druig flashed his light at him from within the main hallway of the floor. As soon as Gil rounded the corner, though, Druig was already on his feet. Despite his words, his face was dead serious, "she really not with you?"

Gil gulped. Tears sprang to his eyes, although he knew this wasn't the time. He shook his head, trying to catch his breath. The light grid they had set up to pick up any kind of movement was still shining into the closed off areas ahead.

He jumped, but Makkari rubbed his back with a reassuring smile. Druig shone the light a little closer to them to illuminate her words. This place is like a maze, I'm sure she's looking for you too.

That was actually what worried him. He had screamed for her, at the very top of his lungs. And not only had he not heard anything back, but apparently none of their friends had heard him either, which seemed impossible.

And if he couldn't hear Thena, then how would he know if she needed his help?

"Where did you see her?" he asked, shining his own light closer to his face for Kari to read his lips.

She pointed. I swear I saw her walk through the grid. I thought she saw something in the window.

Thena would never walk through the light grid herself; it would compromise any evidence they got of a spectral figure. Still, Gil moved closer to it. He shone the flashlight into the corridor, through the propped open door. It was hard to tell with the light in the window reflection, but he was pretty sure it was just a boarded up, empty room through there.

Druig took the liberty of packing up the light grid and putting it back in his bag. "Take a look."

Gil slid closer to the darkened hallway. Despite never having been on one of these hunts before, all their friends were far less scared than he was. Maybe because they definitely didn't believe in ghosts. His heart hammered as he entered the suffocating dark of the hallway. He pressed his flashlight to the window of the door that was boarded closed. If something jumped up at him he might have a heart attack.

It was just a closed up room, full of evidence of fire damage. He angled the light around as best he could without giving himself nothing but reflection to look at. He jumped as some kind of movement caught his eye. He tried to follow it but it was gone as soon as he saw it. But he knew it moved towards the other door to the room.

And it looked blonde.

Druig and Makkari made room for him as he started running towards the main stairs again. "Come on!"

"If she's messin' with us she's makin' us go through a hell of a workout," Druig felt the need to chime in, following him down the stairs.

But Gil knew that wasn't the case. Maybe - maybe - she might mess with Ikaris a little, possibly Druig, all in good fun. But she would never make him worry about her like this, she just wouldn't. She would never scare him like this, not when it was always her calming him down on these hunts.

It really was like a labyrinth in this place. Gil leapt down the last two stairs and whipped open the doors to the main floor. "Did you see her?!"

Ikaris and Sersi both jumped off the bench of the entrance hallway. They looked at each other and then at him. They still had most of the equipment set up around them, and a floodlight pointed at the ceiling for a little more illumination of the area.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ikaris growled at him for storming in the way he did. "Didn't you see her on your level?"

Druig shrugged, "thought we did."

But Gil rushed past all of them, taking a right and pulling open the doors. This place was so massive, it was hard to keep track. But if the figure he had seen in the other room had been Thena, or worse, something else, it would have ended up in here. "Thena!"

Still, nothing but his own voice. It didn't echo like it did upstairs, though. He moved his flashlight around, seeing all the junk that was pushed into this empty but undamaged area of the building. He moved more slowly.

His heart was still hammering, but he made himself take each next step. He couldn't stop until Thena's hand was in his again. "Thena, are you in here?"

He could have sworn a voice whispered back to him. It would have been great potential evidence if he had any equipment or was recording anything. But for now, he took the potential whisper of 'she's mine' and scowled. "No, she's not."

Whatever whispered at him didn't have another reply to that.

Gil slid around a corner constructed of old office furniture, flashing his light in every nook and cranny. "She's my girlfriend! Whatever you are, find someone on your own plain of existence!"

Something rattled in a far corner. He really was going to have a heart attack in here. But he gulped, re-grasping his flashlight in his sweaty palm. No ghost was getting his precious Thena--not tonight.

He moved closer to the rattling. It was a doorknob turning. Okay, so he might die in here tonight. He hoped his friends would escape, at least. But if he did die, then maybe he could be with Thena. If she had died alone in here, he would never forgive himself.

There was a door, and the doorknob was turning.

Gil let out a breath and steeled his resolve again. He could do this. He would do this! He could do anything if it was for Thena. Thena, he repeated to himself as he reached for the doorknob, Thena, Thena, Thena.

As soon as he touched the doorknob, it was no longer locked, and flew open. Thena tumbled into the room, straight into his chest as he caught her. Both of their flashlights fell and rattled on the ground as they held onto each other.

"Gil!" Thena gasped into his shirt, burying her face in it as soon as she knew it was him. "I-I-I didn't--I-I thought-!"

"It's okay, it's okay," he gulped, holding her as tight as he could without hurting her. It was really Thena in his arms, small and warm, blonde hair under his chin. His tears came again, and he didn't force them away, "you're really here."

Thena held onto him just as tightly, clawing at the back of his shirt so she could hold fistfuls of it. "I-I turned around and you were gone--just gone! And I tried shouting for you but I couldn't hear anything around me but silence. And then I thought I saw this--th-this thing-!"

"It's okay, I'm here," he whispered. He couldn't process any of what she was saying right now. All he could think about was the comfort of having his Thena in his arms again.

Slowly, they released one another. Thena sniffled, laughing as she put her hands on his cheeks. "I'm supposed to be the one here for you."

He laughed as well, just as watery and tearful. He put his hands on her cheeks as well, "I can be here for you, just this once."

She leaned into him again as he kissed her.

"You two okay?!"

Thena pulled back and picked her flashlight up first. She shone it around the room, "where are we?"

Gil frowned as she handed him his flashlight as well. "We're on the ground floor, in that side room we checked out first thing tonight."

"The ground floor?" she repeated, looking completely baffled. "We were on the third floor. I-I felt something pull me and I thought it was you, then I was in this completely other room. I was trying to find my way back to you in the hall."

Nice try, ghost creep; Gil took her hand, weaving their fingers together. He could carry his flashlight in his mouth if he had to.

"Gil," Thena continued to frown as he guided them back towards the entrance, "I didn't go down any stairs. We can't possibly be downstairs again."

"It's okay, Thena," he reassured her blindly. It didn't matter. None of it mattered, now that his fear was lifting. He waved as a flashlight circled from where the door was. "I got her!"

Collective sighs of relief were had. Ikaris was the first to bark at them, "what the hell, Thena?! You nearly scared the big guy half to death--that's not funny!"

"Shush," Sersi soothed the beast beside her, as she always did. "We're just glad you're both okay."

Druig and Makkari gave them both more curious looks, "where the hell were did you go?"

"I-" Thena looked at each of them, seeming completely stunned. "I don't know."

"Doesn't matter," Gil spoke up, more sure of this now than he had been about anything all night. "We're getting out of here--now."

He pushed through them, pulling Thena to the door to the outside, hand in hand. He could hear their friends packing up all the equipment behind them.

"Yappin' orders at us now, is he?" he could hear Ikaris gripe behind them.

"Stop it, they've been through enough." How did Sersi put up with him?

Finally outside, Gil took a deep breath. He put his hands on Thena's cheek again, urging her to do the same. She did, but she looked up at him. "Really Gil, I thought I was making my way back to you. I didn't even see any stairs, there's no way I could have-"

"We'll figure it out later," he resolved. They could do that in a safe place, where there was overhead lighting, and a warm mug of her favourite tea. Maybe he'd even have a blanket around her shoulders and massage her feet. "All that matters is you're safe."

Thena's face shifted to something like guilt. She looked down at their joined hands. "I thought I saw you."

"What?"

"What lured me away," she admitted quietly, and maybe with the first bit of true fear he had heard her voice all night. "I thought I saw you in one of those other rooms. That was what made me follow...whatever it was in there."

It had lured him the same way. But, again, that could wait until they were in a brightly lit space with firmly locked doors.

Gil kissed her forehead and pulled her into his arms. "I found you again, so it doesn't really matter."

"Hm," she sighed, nuzzling her face into his chest again. "I knew I'd find you, I guess you finding me is okay, too."

Ah, his invincible Thena. She was the truly unshaken of the two of them. But he had to admit, he was assured by tonight that he had what it took to square up if he really needed to. If it was for the woman he loved, at least.

#Oh my gosh sweetie thank YOU for sending me asks!!!#I always try my best with all of them #and it's nice to feel wanted y'know?#Thenamesh Ghost Files AU #as always shared with the amazing @taran-chan #I thought about it and I thought this was the best au #because the immortal Eternals either #A: cannot be touched or harmed by ghosts or #B: have plenty of experience with ghosts and thus don't fear them #but this Gil loses hold of Thena's hand #and he freaks out loses his mind #he's like where is my emotional support girlfriend please???#that sad hamster with the eyes and the music #meanwhile everyone else came along for the ride for fun #for the halloween vibe #and now they're like um im sorry are ghosts real #Phastos comes and picks them up like you all look like shit #Thena really doesn't believe how it happened #she just kept going into room and after room chasing glimpses of him #until all of a sudden she's in a locked room on the ground floor scared and alone?#Gil tells her everything #and she's like are you FUCKING KIDDING that's the best evidence we've ever had and we don't even have solid recordings of all of it?!#Gil: it doesn't matter just let me hold you #more sad hamster with eyes music #Gil says no more hunts for at least a month maybe ever #and he wants them to be tied together at the waist from now on #the others still kind of don't believe but hey it was kinda cool #and Gil is now in his overprotective boyfriend era #also imagine you're a ghost and this group of - let's say - late twenty somethings barges into your home #if I were a ghost I too would have a crush on Thena all I'm saying

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deadandphilgames · 6 months ago

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oversharing in the tags time :)

#i think it’s time i go back to therapy #i keep having recurring nightmares about my ex best friend #or dreams where she reaches out to me. and explains why she cut me out #backstory. in high school had a lesbian toxic situationship with my #bestie. THEN i had another one. which kinda overlapped? the first one was open but also just messy #anyways. jade and i were like together for a year. then she got a boyfriend one day and i had a breakdown #it happened just after high school and i was sooooo … unwell. wasn’t out to my family felt like i was gonna die etc etc #(this is all pre dnp btw) anyways next year i found dnp. a couple months later she broke up with her bf #and we sorted dated for a while (this whole time we’d been just friends and i was still not really over it but hiding it)#and then she dated ANOTHER guy. they broke up and she had a breakdown and moved 9 hours away. i went #to visit her for a month. we like kinda dated again then and i thought we could make it work. then 2020. no travel #so she started dating a guy. didn’t tell me. even though we spoke every day. she moved in with him #then she breaks up with him mid 2021. i started dating my gf. but Jade was clingy and it was awkward #she started dating a sketchy guy who was homophobic. i went and visited her a few times #start of 2023 she tells me she wants to make more of an effort cause he didn’t like her friends so she cut everyone out. then she ghosted #in feb 2023. we had tickets for #mcr in march. i had to text her cause she’d blocked me on messenger and said im going to the concert whether she’s there or not #she said ‘yeah no worries! you can take someone else in my place too 😎’ she used that fucking emoji #and I haven’t spoken to her since. I think she quit her job . and that guy was not a nice man #so I still worry about her #writing this all down makes me realise she was a bitch and I deserve better #but I just want closure. it isn’t fair she replied so casually to my text when I said ‘you’ve blocked me’#it isn’t fair she HAS MY SIGNED COPY OF DANS BOOK #anyways. I need therapy to get over this #and I haven’t even written about my family issues (im #out and they’re supportive but my god they fucked me #up as a kid)#if you read this hi 👋 hope you are having a lovely day #don’t get in lesbian situationships!!!

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advisorsage · 11 months ago

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I think I've fucked up

#i ranted to my girlfriend and i know she probably is just busy but my brain is screaming that i made her upset even though..#my rant was about my own situation and how i feel about it and then i apologized for complaining at her and said that i wasn't supposed to #and I'm worried she thinks she's not supposed to complain to me when i just meant that i don't like telling people about my shit #and i know she said i could tell her and that she wants to support me but she and my boyfriend are my first relationships #and i don't want to fuck up and i think i have and i haven't told my boyfriend about my diagnosis yet #and I'm scared I'll complain at him too when i tell him and i don't care that he's told me i can and should complain to him #i don't want to saddle them with my complaints #and i called out of work because of how I'm feeling from my diagnosis and that's what i ranted to my girlfriend about #and i'm terrified she doesn't want to date me anymore because my reaction to being diagnosed with one more thing is so fucking pathetic #and i just need to cry and scream and throw up and i can't do any of those things and i feel like everyone except her is telling me #it's no big deal when it is a big deal and i don't think i got it through to my therapist and I'm just freaked out and i don't want to cling #and and and I'm just. i hate existing right now #i feel like i shouldn't do what i want to at home because i called out from work and i know that's stupid but i don't feel like i deserve #nice things right now despite needing them and I'm just so tired but not sleepy and i feel like I'm going to have a panic attack and #i can't even do anything about it!#fuck #i fucked myself over basically #anyway #drink water you heathens

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simple-and-cozy-life · 6 months ago

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I've been so stressed from the changes happening in my life that I forgot that, even though this is going to suck, God is going to get me through this transitional time. Eventually, I will have the stability that I need and I will have a family.

Life will persist and so must I.

#ive been very very stressed #i dont like that im not going to be a school teacher for two years #even though i will ve teaching college #i wont have a stable income #ill have a job to get me through grad school #but nothing like my teaching job with benefits #my boyfriend is supportive though #we'll make it through #itll be ok #today is a tough day because its the last full day of school #i want to jump ahead when i have a family and all is well #and life is predictable again #and stable #but this will be an excellent opportunity and i will accomplish so much #im going to get a masters in music #and maybe one day get my doctorate #plus ill be by my boyfriend's family so thats ok #and ill have roommates #my new apartment seems nice too #just gotta keep going and itll be ok #and manage my stress better #catholic #grad school #i am going to get my ass handed to me in the first semester of grad school though #this professor is very kind and welcoming and she thinks the world of me so ill be taken care of #i must try #and itll be ok

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fox-mulder-gets-pegged · 1 year ago

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Gripping the sink tightly and looking into the mirror and repeating to myself that martrydom is overrated and that mortification of the flesh isn't as sexy as the media makes it look.

#translation: ive been waiting for two weeks to tell my best friend I'm having surgery and that i need some support and love #but I've wanted to tell her face to face bc 1. she takes news best that way #and 2. if its on the phone or via text its way too easy for me to downplay my emotional needs #but last weekend when we were supposed to see each other #she had to cancel bc her idiot moron boyfriend didnt want people over #and then today she texted me and asked if we could hang out #bc another friend needs support and my best friend wanted to have a little get together for her #so now its like #god I'd feel like such a dick dropping this if we hang out this weekend #and completely taking attention off the friend who needs support too #but also it's been two weeks and i just rly need a hand to hold #so now i come to the horrible task of weighing my needs vs the needs of others #and once again finding myself lacking #also this post is inaccurate bc im afraid of mirrors

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jonny-b-meowborn · 2 years ago

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I am genuinely so terrified of the fact that I have to find a job now. I'm trying to think of or look up a job that's suitable for my mentally ill autistic ass and I just. I don't know. Everything either requires some very specific qualifications that I don't have, or seems at best awfully exhausting, at worst literally putting me in danger. And I'm not even exaggerating, I genuinely think that working in retail, for example, could possibly kill me if I was forced to do that job for long enough. I sometimes get overwhelmed to the point of crying when there's too many other customers while I'm shopping, I can't imagine working in an environment like that. I suppose physical jobs could work, I've been to this blueberry plantation twice last week and mentally I was fine, but it was. So tiring. And you don't even make that much money a day, I don't think I could earn enough even if I did work there everyday, not to mention it's only a seasonal job. Right now it's fine for me to go there every now and then, but if I wanted to move out and become independent I'd have to get an actual day job. And that sounds impossible. The only job that sounds good to me is being an artist, it's not too mentally or physically difficult, and it's something I enjoy. But I'd have to get commissions constantly or start a small business or something like that to actually survive. And I'm not saying it's impossible, I know that people can live by being an artist, but it's so hard to get into that field. I wish I could do it but I dont know if it's possible for me. Makes me wanna cry. I hate this I hate that my brain isn't suited for this world and still I have to participate in all that shit that everyone has to do. My brain isn't made for working like that

#I've talked about this a lot with my sister who is also autistic #and were both like. on a similar level of autism i dont know how to properly explain it #were functioning in similar ways i guess #and we both agreed that we're in this awkward spot of being autistic #where we're not suited for living in this world the way we're expected #but we're good enough at surviving that we can't really ask for help #like from the government or smth #im not sure if im making sense #but like neither of us ever had a normal job for longer than a few days #she's incredibly lucky bc her boyfriend (also autistic lol) has rich parents #so he's able to have a small business where hes making youtube content and games and merch #and he gets financial support from his parents. so he can have the job he feels comfortable with and enjoys #and my sister is now able to work with him. theyre both making their silly little games and trinkets and are able to live normally #which is just so great for her i love that. im also so jealous lmao #and then theres me who also is made for creating art and not much else but im not lucky enough to be able to do that and survive #idk. my mom is great and doesn't put too much pressure on me. she was the one to take me to that blueberry job #and she really supprts my plans to be an artist full time #but still. thats really difficult to do. ugh #sometimes i wish that i either wasnt autistic at all or was 'less functioning' so at least i could get some help with living #bee buzz

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fingertipsmp3 · 2 years ago

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#just did my annual checkup on what my ex-friend cal (a horrible human being) is doing now because i remain convinced that he’s going to #murder someone one day and i’m going to have to call round all our old high school friends and be like ‘see i told you so’#and tell me why he has a really beautiful girlfriend. like. WHAT #when i tell you this man is unwashed and unkempt and has serial killer eyes. he’s HORRENDOUS #even if he didn’t look like a walking mugshot the things that come out of his mouth are repellent #what the hell has he been doing. what is GOING ON #unless he’s had some sort of glow up both in appearance and personality that i cannot see because he never posts; i can only come up with #two explanations #1) he’s paying her bills (extremely possible. he’ll do literally anything for a crumb of pussy but also he is really good at math and IT #and i think he has a pretty decent tech support job now)#or 2) she is clinically insane. or thinks she can fix him. which amounts to the same thing #honestly the amount of girls i have seen who thought he was a great guy is too damn high considering what a scumbag he is #he changes his interests and personality in order to get with a girl and will do literally anything for her and then the emotional abuse #starts. i have seen it over and over. i’m pretty sure i was the prototype for his MO!!!#anyway the temptation to message her asking why she’s doing charity work and then turn off my phone is too damn high lmao #this man literally looks like a mouldy foot; meanwhile her profile photo is a selfie she took with a hot male celebrity #who i didn’t recognise at first and was like ‘oh maybe that’s her ex boyfriend’ because IT MADE SENSE. i could see that happening!!#she’s that hot. WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING WITH CAL #thanks for listening to my spiral if you did #personal

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themonsterunderthebed · 5 months ago

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listened to that david tennant clip where he and the host are saying the enormous progress in lgbtq rights is probably the single largest social change they've seen in their lifetime and that it's such immense progress and got to thinking about that. 1) it's very very cool. and 2) i am curious if my mom registers it as "progress" or not. might ask her sometime

#themonster #for clarity she is not homophobic. she's just also not. like. supportive. she's neutral i guess #she hasn't had a problem with me bringing my girlfriends home she just passively wishes i'd have a boyfriend instead #in the same way i think she passively wishes i'd study chemistry and work in a molecular lab #there was that super fun conversation we had last year where she tried to argue that aids happened bc the gays were too promiscuous #and couldn't get themselves under control #but. uh. that is its own thing #anyway since she's kind of passively neutral to slightly negative on these things #i'm curious if she thinks of this social movement towards acceptance as social progress

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frankingsteinery · 1 year ago

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AITA for not telling my fiancé I know he’s queer?

I 20s (F) have a 20s (M) fiancé, V, and he’s been talking about this terrible secret he cannot tell me and he keeps almost starting to come out and then backing out. The issue is V and I were raised together by his parents, and my surrogate 40s (M) father and (now deceased) surrogate mother arranged for our marriage back when we were both children. They thought it was the best for us and at the time we were too young to realize the implications and had no reason to reject to the match. When we were teenagers our mother was on her deathbed and she told us again that she wished for us to marry, and of course we both agreed. However, V is also best friends with a 20s (M) guy called H, and they were nearly inseparable as boys and teens. They also went to university together and shared an apartment but V had to come home due to family reasons. Lately he’s been going out all day and coming home at night hours later. He insists that he’s fine and that we all leave him alone and not worry for him, but I think he and H have been sneaking around. He even delayed our wedding day by arranging a trip to go to England alone with H. It’s exhausting for all of us and I think I should just tell V I know and support him and that we can call off the marriage, but I’m not sure that’s the best course of action? I’m completely fine with not marrying him - he always felt more like a brother to me anyway - but I worry it might come off wrong. The worst part is he’s really beating himself up about it. He’s so guilty it’s beginning to take a toll on his health. I don’t care if he has a boyfriend I just want him to be happy.

EDIT: nvm he built an 8ft creature in his dorm

#rob.txt #frankenstein #frankenstein the modern prometheus #victor frankenstein #henry clerval #elizabeth lavenza #gothic lit #inspired by that spider-man post.

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simpforboys · 14 days ago

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nobody leaves rafe cameron

toxic!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: after a series of arguments with your boyfriend, he has to remind you of your place when you try to leave him.

warnings: toxic relationship, very toxic and mean rafe (meow), arguing, smut, cnc, dacryphilia, choking, degrading, praising, dirty talk, a pussy slap, unprotected piv sex (errr no no), creampie, angst, a lot of swearing, trying to break up, talking bad about your partner behind their back

this takes place episodes 4x1-3

tell a friend to tell a friend, she’s backkkk

he was so fucking mean.

all you and him had done in the past few months is bicker and argue.

the week had already been shitty, but when Rafe told you he was going to compete in the Kildare BMX Race, you wanted to be a supportive girlfriend.

key word: wanted.

Rafe was tuning up some stuff on his dirt bike, dressed in all black. you sat on the sand next to him, just admiring him as he worked.

it was rare for him to wear all black, and the look was driving you insane.

“you gonna keep starin’ at me?” Rafe teases softly.

“mhm.” you hummed, grinning.

the announcer came on to say there was about five minutes til the race so everyone should head over to the start.

“hand me my helmet, would ya?” Rafe asks.

you stand up, wiping the sand from your denim skirt and grab his black helmet. you hand him it, feeling his large hand come down to help wipe some of the sand off your ass.

“there you go,” he coos.

��good luck, baby.” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

he just mumbles a soft thank you, slipping on his helmet as he starts the bike’s engine, switches gears, and takes off over to the starting line.

➽───────────────────❥

the race had been going smoothly. Rafe was in first the entire time…

until JJ Maybank decided to jump the river bank, landing in front of Rafe.

you watched anxiously, cheering on for your longterm boyfriend. but when Rafe’s front wheel collided with JJ’s back wheel, the two guys crashed and were flung off their bikes.

the rest of the racers zoom by, causing Topper to win.

“oh, shit.” you curse under your breath, running over to where Rafe was on the floor.

“are you okay?” you ask, trying to help him up. he shrugs you off of him, too clouded by anger.

he storms over to where John B and Sarah are with you hot on his tail.

“get used to it.” Rafe grumbles, causing John B to look at him.

“what’d you say?” John B asks, clearly frustrated. when Rafe doesn’t respond, he shoves him.

“what’d you say?!” John B repeats, louder this time as Rafe shoves him back.

“get used to it! get used to it, alright? this is forever, ya’ll don’t get to win!” Rafe yells as Sarah steps in between her brother and husband.

“you could have killed each other!” Sarah scolds.

“Rafe, c’mon, please.” you ask pleadingly, tugging on his arm.

yet again, he shrugs you off. due to the sand being uneven, the small movement was enough to cause you to fall on your ass.

but Rafe didn’t notice, or, didn’t seem to care as he continued to shoot insults at Sarah.

you were now pissed as you stood back up, and then it seemed like your boyfriend remembered you were together.

he tried to wrap his arm around your shoulders for support, still aching and hurt from the crash.

you just shrugged him off, storming away.

“y/n!” Rafe calls after you.

➽───────────────────❥

he somehow managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants the day after the race.

but when you and Rafe walked into Topper’s little celebration party at one of the villas, Topper embraced Rafe into a hug, clearly drunk from the intense game of beer pong.

“you see him? his dad shot and killed Sheriff Peterkin.” some girl mutters to her boyfriend.

unfortunately, Rafe overheard.

“leave it—�� you started, but he was already going over to the girl, who was now backing up against the wall.

“what’d you say?” he asks, the girl’s boyfriend pushing Rafe back.

“go away, Rafe.” the boyfriend grumbles, but Rafe doesn’t back down.

“no, no, if you have something to say, say it to my face.” Rafe slaps his cheek for emphasis, but Topper and you move to pull him back.

“hey, relax, okay?” you tried to say, watching him grab a bottle of alcohol and start drinking it.

“just— just get the fuck off of me right now.” Rafe says coldly, obviously pissed off about the situation.

you grit your teeth, a pit forming in your stomach as you bit back a response. but you obliged, walking away from him.

➽───────────────────❥

yet again, he managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants, reassuring you that he’s just going through a lot of stress about the deal with Hollis.

but the final breaking point was when your father had came to you about pushing Rafe towards his teetering decision about becoming Hollis’ partner.

you immediately said no, not wanting to go behind your boyfriend’s back. so when you drove over to the yacht club Rafe was at, you found him sipping on a margarita with Topper and Ruthie.

“what about your girlfriend?” Ruthie asks, making you stop in your tracks.

it was wrong to listen in on his conversation, but a part of you wanted to hear what he had to say about you.

“who, y/n?” Rafe asks, making Ruthie nod.

“she’s not my girlfriend… we’re just hookin’ up, ya’know?” Rafe murmurs, drinking more of his margarita.

a pain started to form where your heart was, a deep frown on your face as he spoke.

“i thought she moved in.” Topper furrows his brows.

“she’s not going to move in… i would never live with a pogue, i have standards.” he explains, making Ruthie and Topper laugh.

that was your breaking point, the point where you were ready to throw the past 19 months away.

because clearly if he couldn’t even respect you to his friends, he doesn’t respect you at all.

you turned on your heel, trying to leave when you accidentally knocked into a server, causing a glass to fall down.

you swore under your breath, ducking out and leaving. but unfortunately, your boyfriend is tall, and he was able to see your head.

“awe, shit.” he cursed quietly, drinking the rest of his beverage before walking away.

“y/n! y/n.” Rafe calls out, jogging to catch up to you.

“no, Rafe! i’m fucking done!” you yell, storming to your house that was only a few blocks away.

Rafe runs in front of you, grabbing your hips to stop you from moving. “the hell you mean done?”

“are you dense? we’re over.” you snap, trying to pull out of his grip.

he clenched his jaw, laughing bitterly.

“i don’t know what you think you heard, but-“

“i don’t think anything. i know you just basically said you could never take me seriously as a girlfriend since i’m a pogue.” you cut him off, lip trembling as you wipe away a tear rolling down your cheek.

“i didn’t mean it like that, baby.” Rafe coos, just trying to charm his way back.

“no, stop. it’s not going to fucking work, Rafe. i’m serious… we’re done.”

“no, we’re not.” Rafe says, his voice dangerously low.

“yes, we are,” you spit.

Rafe roughly grabs you, pushing you into the back of his car. once you’re inside, he moves on top of you, grabbing your throat with his hand.

“you think you can just leave me?” he laughs piercingly, his face barely a few inches from yours.

you didn’t respond, causing him to squeeze your neck. “i fucking hate you.”

“no, you don’t.” Rafe murmurs, unbuttoning your shorts, pushing them down your thighs.

“stop, Rafe-“

“no, you’re going to fucking listen to me!” Rafe yells, forcing you to stare up at him.

“nobody leaves me, you understand?” he asks, his voice breathy and dark.

chills ran down your spine, your eyes wide in fear as your body trembled.

“you fuckin’ understand?” Rafe reiterates, barely slapping your clothed cunt.

“y-yes,” you whimper.

“good girl. now, ‘m gonna fuck this pussy because ‘s mine, yeah?” Rafe says, not really asking.

all you do is nod in response, hating how your clit is throbbing with need.

“you’re lucky i’m not gonna make you suck my cock right now… just wanna remind my girl that she will always be my girl.”

he’s rambling as he shoves his shorts down just enough for his dick to sprang free. he’s always been well endowed, with an 8.5 inch cock, a pretty pink tip, and two prominent veins you always loved to lick on.

“wearin’ these fucking panties… you wanted this, huh? wanted to come and try and make a fool outta me?” Rafe grumbles, pulling the pink lace to the side to reveal your drenched cunt.

you shake your head, tears forming in your eyes from the situation. you were hurt, angry, and fucking horny.

Rafe wastes no time in sliding his cock into your hungry hole, his hand tightening around your throat.

“mhmm, my girl ‘s always so hungry for me. look at this slutty hole suckin’ me in,” he purrs.

he pushes his hips until your clit is pressed against his pelvis, a few tears rolling down your cheeks with your lip in a pout.

“that’s a good girl… fuckin’ cry for me.” Rafe grunts, starting to piston his hips as he fucks you in the backseat of his car.

your hands gripped the shoulder of the passenger seat and the headrest of the back, pretty eyes fluttering shut as your cunt clenched around him.

“yeah… look at you clenching f’me… so needy for this dick.” Rafe coos, forcing you to look at him.

“open your mouth.”

you don’t oblige at first, too overwhelmed in pleasure and the fact that you’re getting fucked by the same man who just talked shit about you.

he uses his fingers to open your jaw, spitting in your mouth. “when i tell you to do somethin’, you fucking do it. swallow.”

you swallow his spit, pussy fluttering around his relentless cock.

“good girl.”

“Rafe— fuck…” you pant.

the car shook as he pounded into your soaping cunt, his balls slapping against your ass.

“tell me who this slutty pussy belongs to.”

“y-you, Rafe… my slutty pussy belongs to you.” you trembled, hand gripping his forearm as he continued to apply pressure to your neck.

“you understandin’ that you can never leave me? that you’ll always be Rafe Cameron’s whore?” he coos, his eyes dark, voice low.

you nod, body shaking as your breathing grows heavier.

“that’s what i thought… all you needed was a good fuckin’ and you’re all well behaved n shit.”

his mean words were turning you on more unfortunately, your belly tightening with each rough thrust.

but when he took his hand off of your neck, beginning to toy with your aching clit.

“look at this clit… all swollen n throbbing f’me. fuck, you’re such a needy whore.” Rafe grunts, his cock twitching inside of you.

all you could do was nod, dizzy and lightheaded from pleasure.

“is my girl gonna cum f’me?” he coos tauntingly, the pad of his thumb flicking teasingly on your hard nub.

“p-please… please, Rafey…”

he moans at the nickname, losing his composure for a second as his balls clench, trying to hold off his orgasm until you explode on him.

“come on, baby. cum on this dick.”

at his approval, you let the coil in your stomach snap. you whimper loudly, clinging onto anything you can reach as your body trembles beneath him.

your orgasm triggers Rafe’s, pussy walls fluttering around him so deliciously he has no choice but to cum inside you.

“take this cum… take my fucking seed.” he groans, hips stuttering as he fills you to the brim.

you pant, vision blurry and suddenly needy for water when you begin to come back down from cloud nine.

you pulled him down into a soft, tender kiss, panting into each-other’s mouths.

Rafe leaned forward, grabbing a half empty water bottle from the cupholder you had left there as he unscrews the cap, holding the hole to your mouth.

“drink,” he murmured.

you happily complied, the water soothing your throat.

“good girl,” he hums in approval.

you couldn’t help but clench around him at the praise, and Rafe’s head fell slightly at the feeling, a proud smirk tugging on his lips.

he knew he was training you so well, even if you needed a reminder every now and then <33.

#simpforboys #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron #obx #obx4 #drew starkey

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joelsdagger · 1 month ago

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that’s the way road dogs do it || one

joel miller x f!reader

a/n: this one is a little wild; part two is already shaping up to be even more wild. many smooches to my beloveds: @pedrospatch for all the reassurance and support and for beta’ing this bad boy for me, and to @dinandwhiskey for screaming with me about this idea many many moons ago <33

pairing: ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel x f!reader summary: on a night out with friends, you run into someone from your past. warnings: [no-outbreak au], big girthy age gap [reader is in her 20’s, joel is 50’s], alcohol consumption, allusions to cheating [not by joel or reader], no sarah or ellie but joel has a son, joel has tattoos and is a biker, pet names [darlin’, baby, kiddo], sexualization of the term kiddo [from the deepest darkest pits of my soul…idfc], a little bit of humiliation, panty sniffing, a teensy bit of fingering, a little manhandling, pervy!joel [he’s also a little fucked up and really unhinged but so am i so whateva], pussy pronouns, dirty talk [umm it gets weird lol], daddy kink, degradation, semi-public sex, rough unprotected p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, dubcon [joel takes pictures of her that she doesn’t verbally consent to], smidgen of angst [ofc bc it’s me], creampie, body marking/writing [use of a pen], soft!joel, reader wears a skirt, has hair, wears makeup, and has two tattoos that are described within the story word count: 8.6k

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for fic updates!

Bad Habits is the bar where you spend every Friday night after work with your friends. It’s always too loud and too bright for your liking. But they serve good booze for a reasonable price and it’s on the way back from your office. Your Friday night usual; stopping at the bar with some friends from work before you bore yourself to sleep by looking over briefings and finalizing notes you need to send over to your boss in time for Monday’s nine am meeting.

You excuse yourself from the booth and head for the bar, plopping yourself on the velvet cushion of a creaky bar stool as you set your purse on the sticky bartop, ordering yourself another drink. Your phone chimes, and you sigh as you pull it out of your purse along with a pen and notepad, knowing it’s an email with a list of requests from your boss. He did tell you he’d send it to you before the end of the night.

It’s when one of your hands is pressed to your temple, the other scribbling down your boss’ requests on paper when you hear it — a low, gravelly Southern drawl, a voice laced with honey — that you thought you’d never hear again.

“This seat taken?”

Your pen freezes for a moment; you could pick that voice out of a suspect line-up. It never left you. But you willingly ignore him and decide you’re going to have a little fun of your own with him, so you continue finalizing your thoughts on paper as he situates himself beside you and orders a glass of whiskey while he’s at it.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ sittin’ in a place like this all by herself?”

“I’m not alone. My friends are over there,” you throw your thumb, pen in hand, over your shoulder, jutting to your booth. “Just needed another drink,” you say, your eyes never leaving the notepad.

“Why won’t you let me see your face, darlin?” he asks, head tilting to the side, assessing you.

You snort. “Why. So you can decide whether or not my face is pretty enough to fuck — Mr. Miller?” Your voice drops an octave at the end of the sentence.

You finally turn your head so you’re face to face with the man beside you, the father of your ex-boyfriend.

Surprise flashes across his face; his mouth hangs agape briefly before he shuts it tightly. You watch as the Adam’s apple bops slowly in his throat. For once, the father of your shit-eating, cheating ex-boyfriend doesn’t have a comeback. He clears his throat as he attempts to recover.

“Didn’t realize it was you, darlin’,” he says gruffly, a hand coming up to scratch his beard.

You chuckle to yourself a little. “Of course you didn’t. The last time we saw each other was what? A year ago? Maybe more?” you quip.

“You look different,” he says matter-of-factly, eyes glossing over your figure so quick you almost miss it.

You raise an eyebrow at him; the corner of your mouth kicks up as you tilt the rim of your glass to your lips, hiding your smirk behind a sip.

“Good. I mean — you look good,” he tips his glass on its heel, eyeing it as he toys with it.

You tilt your head in a shrug, “I needed a change.”

After Joel Miller’s son cheated on you and broke your heart, after you let the hurt linger for a few weeks and told your sob story to your friends who happily listened, you took their advice.

You need something new, something fresh, babe.

It really does help.

You’ll feel like a whole new person.

Trust me, it’ll be good for you.

You dyed your hair a few times, until you found a shade that felt more you. You got yourself a whole new wardrobe, something a little less fucking prudish and a little more slutty, and despite the cliché of it all, their suggestions did help to leave that shy, agreeable girl in the dust. The breakup was the last push you needed to leave it all behind.

And now here you are, a little over a year later, sitting beside your ex’s father, whom you once hated to admit to yourself — no, you never really admitted it to yourself, but you found him attractive. Fuck. Who were you kidding? You didn’t just find Joel Miller, the father of your ex-boyfriend, attractive; you found yourself wanting to open your legs for him more than you did for his son, whom you had been dating for eight months.

His eyes fall to your chest, trailing down the low cut of your top, and fixating on the peaks of your nipples beneath the tight fabric, and your heart stutters. “Quite the change,” a hint of a glint swimming in his hazel eyes.

You can’t say the same for him.

You take him in now; he looks almost exactly the same, apart from a few more wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. Still, he’s somehow more handsome.

His tousled salt-and-pepper hair still sits messily on his head, though his beard is lined with more silver than you remember.

Fuck.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes trail down his body, thick shoulders and thick arms deliciously clad in his black leather jacket, and beneath that, his white t-shirt pulls taut across his broad chest.

And oh.

Joel’s head turns, peering over his shoulder at the sound of glass breaking. Your eyes flick back up and catch a curl of black ink on the tanned skin beneath his collar. That’s new.

When he turns back, he raises the glass to his lips with a scoff, clouding the inside of it, and the dim light from above the bar catches on the square face of a gold band on his marked pinkie finger. That’s also new. Your eyes don’t miss that his fourth finger still remains devoid of a wedding ring.

“I have your son to thank for that." You drop your phone, pen, and notepad into your purse, giving him your full attention.

A muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. Flicks his tongue across his bottom lip before he bites it. Is it a show of anger? Disappointment? You’re not quite sure.

But there is one thing that you are sure of: Joel Miller liked having you around. You knew it. You were aware that his eyes lingered whenever he saw you. You caught it from the very first time. When you showed up at his house, in jeans that clung to you like skin, how you bent at the waist to fish your keys out of his sofa cushion, and in your periphery, caught the subtle tilt of his head to get a better look at how the denim hugged your ass just right, feeling his eyes boring into you, your skin sizzling with heat.

If you’re being honest, you didn’t care. You didn’t feel guilty or shameful for how Joel looked at you. You basked in how he made you feel; you certainly weren’t getting that kind of attention from his son. He had his eyes (and his dick) on someone else.

You liked how that very last night you spent at Joel Miller’s house — a fortnight before you broke up with his son — you padded down the hallway to the bathroom in an old skirt that you had outgrown (wearing it only because it was the last of clean bottoms before laundry day), and you overheard Joel Miller in his bedroom, fucking his fist and coming with a gruff groan of your name on his lips.

You just weren’t sure if he knew that you knew.

His body twists, props a leg up on the footrest of your bar stool. “What happened between you two? He never talked about it,” he inquires.

You scoff. “He gets that from you, you know, not talking about things. Think he knows it too.”

Confusion floods his features.

Your eyes drop to the inside of your glass. “Your divorce. Jason complained all the time about how neither of you talked about it.”

“There was nothin’ to talk about. She left,” he quips.

“She cheated on you,” you retort.

“How did–”

“He knew, and he watched when you didn’t fight it. Think that’s why he did the same to me.”

“That kid. Always fucking trouble,” he huffs, then takes a short sip.

“Hey, you raised him,” you joke.

“I didn’t raise him to be a piece of shit,” he bites, shakes his head instantly, eyes meeting yours, and there’s something behind them that you can’t quite place yet.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, I just—" You sigh exasperatedly, “I think seeing how you didn’t fight for your marriage, for your wife, messed with him. And as much as I hate him for getting his dick wet in another girl, I think... well, now I know why he did it." Right shoulder tips in a slight shrug.

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothin'—I didn’t expect I’d ever hear you say that.”

You look at him pointedly.

“Gettin’ his dick wet,” he repeats. “I’m not used to hearing you say things like that s’all,” he says with a breathless laugh, shaking his head a little.

You sigh. “Told you, heartbreak is a hell of a thing.”

“You didn’t deserve that darlin’, M’sorry,” he soothes. He leans towards you, a heavy hand dropping to your bare thigh, fingers wrapping tightly around it. It takes everything in you not to squeeze your thighs shut at his touch.

You avert your eyes, scanning the crowd in the bar, your eyes eventually landing on your friends all crammed in the booth before looking back at Joel. “Everything happens for a reason, I guess.”

His head dips, eyebrows go up in surprise, his expression a slight mixture of shock and guilt. “You really believe that?”

You flash him a soft smile. You’re not sure that you do, but selfishly, it’s easier than the truth, and whatever it was, you’re not concerned about it anymore. “It’s fine, Mr. Miller, honestly," you clarify.

His calloused thumb rubs small circles on your thigh; heat radiates there. “How many times, I gotta tell you, it’s Joel,” he insists.

Your eyes roll, “alright. Joel, it’s fine. I’m much happier now.”

“Oh yeah?" His hand releases your thigh; your body feels like it’ll wilt without the heat of his touch. His arms cross over as he leans forward on the bartop. The cuff of his left sleeve raises, revealing ink curling around his wrist. Did he complete his sleeve? You swallow thickly, your eyes lingering.

"Got yourself a new boyfriend?’” He asks.

You finally peel your eyes away, arching your brow. “What makes you say that?”

His boot brushes against your bare ankle as he turns towards you; electricity sparks up your leg and up the base of your spine, awakening a long-dormant need. “Nothin’, just reckon that a pretty thing like yourself has a new stupid college fella.”

You chuckle. “I don’t date, it's not worth my time anymore.” You take a swig of your drink, swallow the tang down, and it mixes with the lick of heat, slowly spreading its way into your veins. You’re trying to tame the surge of energy zipping through your body, but it’s so damn hot beneath the lights lining the bar. And the chatter buzzing around the room, coupled with the weight of Joel’s gaze, isn’t fucking helping. It’s overwhelming, the nerves and arousal taking over, lacing with the alcohol in your system.

“That so?” His voice is a low rumble, dangerous. The corners of his lips twitch; your eyes dart down to them.

You set your glass down on the dark wood with a clink, and your fingers begin tracing the rim of the glass. “And you?” Your body is warm and humming, something churning deep in your core.

His hazel eyes slowly rake down your body, a hint of hunger in them as they pause at the hem of your skirt, barely covering the place where you need him most; your skin is on fire under the heat of his gaze, and for a moment you have to resist the urge not to pounce on him right there in a bar full of people.

His voice cuts through your reverie as he answers. “Not in the cards for me, darlin’,” his eyes crease before he tips the glass to his lips.

“Guess we got one thing in common,” you sigh and mirror him.

His eyes never leave yours as he takes a sip, and your chest blooms. Black takes up the hazel hues in his eyes, full of lust, and you think back to all the times you’ve had his attention; only now it’s worse because you can act on it. And maybe it’s the liquid courage in your blood. Maybe it’s some stroke of desire for revenge. Maybe it’s just that — desire. Maybe it’s because you know him. Know by all those times you racked up in your brain of longing stares and fleeting tugs of every nerve of your body.

So you think, with the very obvious throbbing in your core, with desire turning molten and pooling between your thighs that you can no longer ignore, that now is your chance; you’ve got nothing holding either of you back this time.

“You want to get out of here?” Your eyes fall down his body and bite your lip as you take in his broad form again.

He chuckles darkly. “Can’t leave my crew, sweetheart,” he juts his chin towards an area behind you. Your body twists, and laughter threatens to bubble in your chest when you spot them. Three men, all silver-haired and scruffy beards that cover surly faces, all clad in tethered leather jackets, sit in a corner towards the back of the bar.

You turn back to Joel with a hint of smirk on your lips. “Aren’t you getting a little old to still be biking around? Shouldn't fossils be encased or padded up or something? You know as they age they don't hold up very well,” you tease.

He bares his teeth with a crooked grin; the corners of his eyes crease. “Careful, kiddo,” voice a low warning, but there’s a hint of playfulness behind it.

You knock back the rest of your drink swiftly, ignoring how it burns the back of your throat. “Well, that’s too bad,” you start. Driven by the alcohol coursing through your burning veins and the painful ache at the apex of your thighs, your left hand grabs his, rested beneath the bar, and guides it under your skirt and towards your dripping sex. He stiffens, inhaling sharply through his nose as he feels the way the wet fabric clings to the lips of your pussy. You bring your lips to the shell of his ear and drop your voice to make it more deep and velvety — more enticing. “She’s already wet.”

You drop his hand and hop off the barstool and onto wobbly legs, your right hand looping your crossbody over your shoulder, and before your leg even brushes past his, his hand snaps out and wraps around your wrist, dwarfing it in his grasp.

Without another word, he tugs you behind him, past your table of friends, all too loud and too drunk celebrating the end of another work week to notice the two of you sauntering by. He drags you down the dimly lit hall, and you’re biting your bottom lip, containing the smile that threatens to spread across your face as he shoves you into the bathroom.

Within seconds, he’s on you, pressing into you so your back slams into the tethered wooden door. Your hands find his hair, tangling your fingers in the strands streaked with gray.

And with his mouth flush with yours, the taste of whiskey and cheap cigars is warm on your tastebuds, and you cannot get enough of it. You've dreamt of what he'd taste like for so long, and it's everything you've ever wanted. His tongue is heavy and hot as he pushes it into your mouth, swirling it around and cutting across your gums, leaving no inch of your mouth uncharted. It’s all rushed and sloppy and hungry, and very quickly does it become clear to you that he’s wanted this — wanted you, just as much as you had from the very beginning.

Somewhere in the heady haze, you manage to remove your left hand from his dark curls, drifting it south behind your back to slide the greasy lock shut behind you, sealing your fate.

The sound of the lock clicking in place has Joel maneuvering you towards the sink, your heels scraping against the tile as the both of you drift backwards, tongues still intertwined.

Your hands fumble with his belt, and at the same time, your mouth skates down his neck, tongue darting out and lapping at the inked skin there. You hum at the taste of warm, salty sweat. As you try to drag the leather out from his silver buckle, you move to drop to your knees. You don’t even get halfway before he’s reaching for your wrists, pulling you back up to stand. “‘S much as I’d like that kiddo, I've been waitin’ too long to get inside this cunt,” he says bluntly, and then he’s taking a step forward, trapping you against the cold ceramic. “If m’gonna come, s'gonna be inside o' her.”

Your stomach flips at his words, and you can’t deny that the use of that word again makes you want to drop to your knees for him twofold. Instead, Joel drops to one of his, grunting as his denim-clad knee hits the cold tile, and it’s what he does next that manages to shatter all essence of confidence you had tonight.

Joel flicks up your skirt with one large hand while the other grips the back of one of your thighs, and one of your hands finds one of his shoulders, fingers already clinging onto him for dear life as you try to anchor yourself. You’re throbbing for him as his hand drifts north to cup your sex through your damp panties; he tears his gaze away to peer up at you. “How many dicks has this pussy taken since my son?”

His words strike you hard, and your blood runs as cold as ice. Your breath kicks out of your lungs. That was the last thing you expected him to say. Despite the fact Joel’s eyes often lingered and his breath often wavered in your presence, he always managed to compose himself. You never imagined he'd act on those impulses.

“I–I don’t–” you blink a few times, your brain malfunctioning, trying to find the words.

“How many,” he taunts, his fingers prod at your lace-covered slit, his thumb applying pressure to your clit through your underwear.

“I– I don’t know. I can’t remember,” you whisper.

Joel sniggers. “I figured. She’s just a little pocket pussy for us, ain’t she?” A shiver runs up your spine, and he watches you, hazel eyes glimmering in the soft yellow glow of the bathroom, gauging your reaction for a tell, a tick, something, that’ll give him a reason to stop. When you don’t, his head dips down between your thighs, and his strong nose presses up against the damp stain on the front of your skimpy black thong, which was doing a rather poor job of covering your cunt. His eyes close slowly, and he inhales. Long and hard, so hard you can feel his nostrils contracting against you as he breathes in your scent. And it’s not your fault a measly whimper spills from your lips when he does so.

“This all for me now?” He coaxes, his fingers strumming up and down your slit through the lace. Words fail you as you look down and find his eyes already on yours. You nod once for him.

“Words, darlin’,” his voice dark, thick fingers shifting your panties aside, exposing you to the cold air and spreading your soft folds apart, toying with your wetness.

Oh fuck, sneaks past your lips in a whisper, and one of your arms snaps out behind you, hand wrapping around the edge of the sink.

He tilts his head up, and your eyes fixate on his middle finger that reads, clutch, as the tip pokes into your aching hole. "S’this what you wanted? You oughta ask for it, pretty girl.”

“I want you. Fuck– I want you to fuck me, Joel.” You choke out.

“Attagirl,” he starts, knees cracking as he stands. “Bend over ‘n let me see her up close this time,” he says with a smirk.

You obey, and turn to drop your purse beside the sink before placing your hands on the wet countertop. But your eyes don’t find your own reflection in the mirror. Instead, they fall on Joel’s movements behind you and gulp down the near-pathetic excitement and nerves sizzling over you. Joel’s too entranced by the sight before him to pick up how your breath hitches in your throat when his calloused hands push your skirt over the curve of your ass and up to your waist. His sly smirk kicks into a low chuckle as he catches sight of your tattoo on your left ass cheek that reads, daddy’s girl.

You go perfectly still, and a firm hand between your shoulders pushes you forward, your upper body now parallel to the dark countertop. Your heartbeat thrums loudly in your ears, but you can still hear the low whistle he sings from behind you. And then–

“Jesus,” he breathes as he pauses and marvels at you, his gaze shifting up and down your form, goosebumps erupting across your skin as the knuckle of his index finger traces down the small of your back, cold metal from the ring on his pinkie grazes the meat of your ass by happenstance. “Pretty little thing, ain’t ya?”

And it’s almost like he can’t believe he’s here — with you, thirty years his junior, and his son’s ex-girlfriend, in a bar bathroom, about to ruin not only you but every other woman for himself for the rest of his life.

The liquid courage must’ve kicked into overdrive because you don’t know what compels you to do it, but before you can stop yourself, you call out his name–

“Joel.”

His dark eyes flit upwards to meet yours in the mirror.

“You gonna stand there and stare all night, or you gonna fill her up?” But the tone of your voice doesn’t make it sound at all like a question, and you don’t mean it to be.

That seems to pull him back. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ Christ, I didn’t think you’d be this filthy.”

His reaction manages to bring back your confidence, and your lips curl in turn.

Joel doesn’t waste anymore time. You feel the rough drag of denim against the back of your thighs and hear the metallic clang of his belt and the buzz of his zipper as he frees himself from the confines of his jeans. When he hooks a thick finger underneath your panties, tugging them to the side and over one cheek, you can’t help but clench, and Joel definitely doesn’t miss it.

He tuts. “Needy little thing too,” he grips his length, thick and heavy in his hand, and lines up the blunt cockhead with your throbbing hole; it winks at him. “Tiny hole’s begging for me to fuck her, ain’t she? Look at her flirtin’ with me,” Joel gloats.

And the sane part of you wants to cringe at that, but your cunt betrays you and clenches around terrible emptiness again. Joel doesn’t wait for you to respond; his eyes flicker back down to your hole, pushing the wide head of his cock inside, and that spark from earlier ignites.

“Oh, Christ,” he exhales, his jaw falling loose and eyes going hooded as he enters your warm, wet cunt. You gasp as your own eyes fall shut at the stretch, your face twisting upwards at the sharp sting. You didn’t get to look at it before, but you can feel him. He’s big. Bigger than anything you’ve ever had, and for a second you’re not quite sure he’ll be able to fit. But Joel being Joel means he’s a stubborn bastard. He makes it fit. He pushes himself in, in, in, and you whine, and he groans as your pussy wraps perfectly around every inch of his thick length, sinking in like a dream.

He bottoms out inside your cunt, his tip kissing your cervix, and you’re gripping the edge of the sink so tight that if it weren’t for Joel fucking you, you’d be worried if your knuckles would break the skin. “Fuck, that’s good,” he breathes, ragged and hard.

And it is. He feels so good. Stretching your cunt out and carving a place for himself after all this time. All the wanting and pining. Shared glances and stolen moments that you believed to be over the moment you broke up with that bastard of a son have finally led you here with him.

“Daddy,” pours from your lips involuntarily. Your eyes snap wide open, and you freeze. Joel draws his hips back, cock pulling out from your gaping hole and catching onto it’s head, and before you can scramble your brain for a pathetic excuse of an apology, his lips curl into a snarl, and he slams his hips forward, cock ramming into you full throttle. The force of his thrust so hard, your body jolts forward, and your pelvis collides with the sink.

He doesn’t give you time to recover; Joel sets a fast, unforgiving pace, and with every strong, expert roll of his hips, the edges of your vision begin to blur. And it doesn’t matter how fast he bucks into you; the size of his cock never fails to fill you up to the hilt on every long, punishing stroke. He’s fucking loving it. And so are you. Letting him use you and yanking you back onto his cock by the thin material of your thong, hips snapping back into his like a rubber band. The air quickly fills with delicious wet sounds of your skin slapping against his, your moans and his, and the sharp clink, clink, clink, of metal rattling against you as the movement of your bodies colliding increases.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he says, voice rough with arousal. “Been dreamin’ of this pussy since the first time I laid eyes on ya,” he pants, eyes never leaving where the two of you are connected.

Desperate whimpers and breathy moans spill from your lips, his left hand bruising on your hip. “Caught a glimpse of that pretty young pussy under your skirt. Couldn’t get it out of my damn head. I thought about you n’ fucked my fist every night to that image of you in your slutty little skirt. Too fuckin’ short to cover anything.” Your cunt drools with slick with every word that spills from him; you can feel it on the tops of your inner thighs. The wet suction of your cunt around his cock getting louder and louder and louder. It’s borderline pornographic.

His voice cuts through the lewd sounds. “Some nights I heard those sweet sounds you made–fucked my fist then too. Were you fakin’ it, baby? Huh. Were you fakin’ it with him? My son ever fuck you this good?” He rambles, grip smarting your flesh.

Your stomach jolts. Scratch that. That’s the last thing you expected him to say. If your ex-boyfriend’s father fucking you wasn’t going to send you spiraling, then him bringing up his own son while he fucks you dumb certainly will.

Your mind is abuzz; your brain has gone completely blank. There’s no way you could form a proper word in response, even if you tried. There isn’t a single thought inside your head. It’s too much. Too many things are happening at once. For one, he’s never been this talkative; you were lucky if you got two sentences out of him a year ago. And now he’s asking you if his son fucks as good as he does.

You don’t answer. You can’t. And he’s not expecting you to. All you can do is whimper and moan while he fucks you with abandon, the way you should have been fucked all those times by his son.

“You don’t gotta answer. I know he didn’t. That boy didn’t know what was good for him if it hit him til he was blue in the face.” And you moan in agreement, still not able to think of a response while his tip jabs at your most sensitive spot.

“S’okay, you were made to take my cock,” he grits, his ringed finger digging into your skin by the unrelenting grip on your waist. “Made to take mine, not his. Tell me, my cock bigger than his?”

“Daddy–” you gasp, your cunt flutters around him, and Joel laughs a little at you, a low mocking sound that fuels the fire roiling low in your belly.

“Course it is,” he murmurs. “You were made for me. So fuckin’ pretty n’ perfect n’ – fuck – so goddamn tight. Tighter than a fleshlight, baby.” He hisses in between sharp thrusts.

“N-” you choke on your words, fresh tears pricking your eyes by the force of him fucking you so hard.

He clicks his tongue. “You don’t like that, baby? You tellin’ me if I say it again, she won’t fuckin’ squeeze the hell outta me?”

Your cunt answers for you, giving him exactly what he wants and fluttering around him in response.

“S’okay, you can like it. You oughta. This sloppy cunt’s gonna be my new cocksleeve. Gonna blow my load in ya, pump you so full o’me.”

You squeeze painfully tight around him again and bite your bottom lip to muffle the obscene, broken moan that escapes you. You can’t help but picture what Joel looks like thrusting himself into the toy. Was he using it that night? When you heard him coming with a groan of your name, was he pretending to paint your cunt instead of the inside of faux flesh? Or did he pull out and imagine covering your face in his cum? Your back arches as you push yourself up by the heels of your palms on the ceramic, your head topples back onto your neck, eyes rolling back into your skull, the walls of your cunt tensing at the thought.

His fingers unhook themselves from your panties and his hand finds the back of your skull, and with a firm grip, he angles your head, so you are face to face with your own depraved reflection. “Look how fuckin’ sexy you look takin’ me,” he growls.

And you do; your vision refocuses on the wrecked girl in the mirror: hair wild yet pulled back by Joel’s tight fist, lipstick stained around your swollen lips, mascara smudged by wet tears at the corners of your eyes, temples glistening with beads of sweat as you’re split wide open, perfectly filled to the brim by your ex-boyfriend’s father’s cock.

Joel’s fist tightens on your makeshift ponytail, pulling you back into him, and with your back now pressed flush to his chest, he brings his lips to your ear, his breath hot against your skin, eyes watching each other in the mirror. “You’ve got a velvet cunt, kiddo, s’damn shame my son didn’t know what to do with it.”

You squeak, your body jostling and rolling with pleasure on every shift forward, the edge of the countertop bruising your hip bones. You’re blissfully unaware of the spit drooling from your lips and dripping all over the sink faucet until Joel points it out.

“Look at you, wanted it so bad you’re fuckin’ droolin’ f’me, naughty girl,” he pants, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. “Wanted me to use you like this, huh?”

“Mmm,” you mewl in response, everything beneath your navel tenses while his cock grazes the opening of your cervix on each harsh thrust.

He tuts. “Aww, poor baby, you were all talk before. But you can’t talk back now, huh? You all cock dumb, s’that it? Daddy, fuckin’ ya stupid?”

"So – good – Daddy,” you force a choked moan. Your cunt clamps down around him, and it burns, flames running wild, scratching away at your nerves as the fat head of his cock brushes against your g-spot again. As if he can feel it too, the snap of his hips grows more desperate. Faster. Harder. Deeper.

“Keep doin’ that, doin’ so good for me, kiddo. Just a little more, give it to me, come on daddy’s cock, c’mon,” he rasps. Your stomach twists and your chest tightens, his cock hitting you so deep each time his hips swing, and the weight of his balls slapping wetly against your clit has you hurtling full speed towards your release.

“Daddy – oh f– fuck,” your voice all broken and hoarse. Your entire body goes painfully tight, thighs quivering, and something deep within you snaps. Your eyes screw shut as the energy thrums through your blood. Your mind is a dizzying blur, white light streaking behind your eyelids, and there’s a low ringing in your ears as your orgasm fully engulfs you.

"Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, kiddo, there you go, let her soak me,” Joel praises as he fucks you through your high, cunt throbbing while your hips move lazily back and forth on him.

As your orgasm settles, your body goes limp, and your head begins to dip, but Joel tightens his grip on you, shifting your body like a ragdoll until you’re on your tiptoes, the perfect angle for him as he fucks relentlessly into you.

And with the blissed-out daze of the afterglow and the roaring music from the otherside of the bathroom door getting louder, you can just barely make out Joel’s low rambles of obscenities — almost like he’s mumbling to himself — and the quick, wet, smack, smack, smack of his hips against the plush of your ass as he pummels your cunt, desperate for release — as if his life depends on coming inside you.

He grunts and through bleary eyes, you watch him through the mirror. He looks wrecked as he chases after his high. He must feel your eyes on him because then his eyes lock with yours in the mirror, and your cunt squeezes him unconsciously. That sends him overboard. His movements become sloppy, and you feel him twitch inside you. His jaw slackens, his eyes pinching shut while his head lulls back, and a breathless chant of, oh shit, fuck that’s it, fuck, escapes him as he comes undone.

His hands clamp, hips finally stuttering, a deep groan slipping past his lips, and then you feel the heat spreading inside you as thick spurts of his seed spill deep inside your cunt. His body falls forward over yours, his sweaty forehead falls into your shoulders, and you let him stay there as his cock continues to pulse, hips lazily rutting into you and pumping you full of his load. Your spent cunt spasms around his throbbing cock, and your wet and his, gathers at the base of his girth and trickles down his balls.

His hips finally come to a stop, but he doesn’t pull out. Instead, his hand drops from your hair and begins rummaging through your purse. It only takes him a few seconds to find what he’s looking for. Your pen. You watch through watery lashes as he pops the cap with his thumb and brings the tip to the small of your back; your body flinches at the feeling of the cold tip.

As the ball of the pen drags and tugs across at your skin, for a brief moment you try to surmise what he’s writing, but it takes him too long, and the intensity of your orgasm finally catches up with you. You drop your head on your hand and wait for him to finish whatever the hell he’s drawing on your skin.

You feel his body shift behind you again, but it’s not until you hear the familiar sound of a low click that has you snapping your head up to the mirror.

Joel Miller has his phone in his hands.

And he’s not just doing anything with it. He’s not scrolling through it. He’s not opening up the contacts app. He’s not typing on it.

You catch a bright white flash in the mirror. He’s taking pictures of you. But not just of you. He’s taking pictures of your wasted cunt still plugged full of his cock.

And for some reason — you don’t move. You don’t stop him. You don’t turn around and snatch the phone from his grasp and call him a dirty old dog. You stay perfectly still, and you let him do what he wants. Letting him take a series of pictures.

But it’s the last few that have his lips curling into a smirk, and he begins mumbling under his breath, gawking at the mess he made of you.

With his phone poised in his right hand, his left drops to your left ass cheek, his fingers splay across your flesh, pulling your cheek back, and the shutter sound goes off. "Fuck, she’s so pretty like this.”

Heat blooms in your chest. No one’s ever made you feel like this. But there’s no room for shame when he makes you feel this warm and beautiful... and so fucking sexy.

And then it hits you.

No one’s ever made you feel like this. There’s a sudden pang in your heart, tears stinging in your eyes. You’ve always known it. But you never admitted it because it never mattered. How could it? When you’ve never had someone who made you feel worth their time. How could you know what you were missing out on if you’ve never had it to begin with?

Your head tips back between your shoulders, forcing the tears back into your skull, and to keep them at bay, you redirect your attention on Joel; watch him as he presses his hips flush to your ass so he’s filled you to the hilt. With your body still trembling, you wince and close your eyes in overstimulation. Your body sags forward on the cold surface, melting into submission.

You hear a series of shutters coupled with Joel’s mutters of, Jesus, look at her, the prettiest little pussy, look at this messy little hole swallowin’ up my cock, while you feel his hand moving along the small of your back, no doubt getting different angles of the place where the two of you become one.

It feels like hours have passed by when Joel seems to have gotten his fill. One of his hands finds your hip again; you shiver and gasp in unison as he slowly slips himself out with a wet squelch. He pumped you so full of his release that you already feel it beginning to trickle out. You didn’t think there’d be that much of it for a man his age.

When his cockhead fully slides out from your hole, you have to fight the urge to whine at the loss of it — of him. But it’s what he does next that stops you from reveling in that; his hand quickly reaches down between your bodies, and two thick fingers catch the cum dripping out of you and push it back inside. You whimper tiredly.

You stay bent over the sink, and suddenly, for a very brief moment, you feel the heavy weight of his cock slap wetly against your left ass cheek, and for the last time, the camera shutters.

He quickly pockets his phone, and then he’s pulling your panties over the ache between your thighs, and his hands tentatively pull the skirt back down over your ass, smoothing out the rumpled fabric. You can hear the low rustling behind you — the buzz of his zipper and the clang of his belt buckle, tucking himself back into his pants.

And then Joel Miller surprises you again. He leans forward over you and places a chaste kiss to your clothed shoulder before his hands are on you, gently tugging your body upright and turning you around to face him as he murmurs a low, Let me look at ya.

His eyes scan over your face, grinning immensely, like he can’t help being proud of himself for ruining you. And you smile bashfully in tandem as you bring a weak hand up to your face. Joel shoos your hand away and rubs his thumb under your eyes, gently wiping away your tears and smeared mascara, then doing the same to the smudged lipstick at the corners of your mouth.

He’s always been rather soft with you, but it’s a stark contrast in comparison to his earlier behavior; it almost gives you whiplash thinking about it. How he fucked you so full you could feel him in your chest, the stream of profanities he cursed under his breath, moaning the dirtiest things — comparing himself to his son while inside you, taking filthy pictures as evidence of what the two of you have done together, then cleaning you up like it’s second nature to him. All of it was filthy. He’s filthy. But there was always a softness to him, and there’s no doubt about it in this moment.

You take the opportunity to mirror him and caress away the lipstick that stained his lips from your kiss, you smile and he sighs at the contact. His thumb swiftly pads over your bottom lip, his gaze lands on your lips, a sort of hesitance, perhaps deciding if he wants to kiss you again. Then, his thumb catches on your plush bottom lip. Joel’s lips twitch, his eyes go dark as he drags the flesh of your bottom lip down, eyeing something he knows he almost missed. He scoffs slightly and shakes his head in near-disbelief. You smirk knowing exactly what he’s reacting to.

His entire face blossoms with cherry red as he does another once over on the black ink inside your mouth.

“Angel, my ass,” he mutters under his breath before wetting his lips. Already hungry for more.

He tilts your chin upwards and leans forward to kiss you. It’s softer, slower this time, but of course, he still nips gently at your bottom lip, and at the same time, he slips his free hand down between the two of you once more. It moves beneath the hem of your skirt, fingers shoving your panties to the side, the pulp of his middle finger pushing through your puffy folds and into your dripping hole, until the black ink that reads, brake, is entirely sheathed inside your worn cunt, making sure his come stays where it belongs. You whimper against his lips, bucking into his hand.

“Keep that in there, f’me,” he mutters, his hot breath fanning over your lips. “Want you thinkin’ o’me when it drips outta ya tonight.”

You whine faintly when Joel removes his hand. He brings it up to his face, and his tongue darts out to glide across the tip of his digit, licking his finger clean of your wet and his, all while keeping his eyes on yours the whole time.

There’s a long beat of silence between you, and then he drops his hand, pulling away. Your heart falls, already missing the warmth emanating from his touch.

“We oughta get back before people start looking for us,” he murmurs as he steps back. You smile softly and nod. You’re not sure you’ll see him again. And you don’t have the heart to ask him, nor do you have the strength to handle it if he rejects your offer. You have nothing else to give.

You love how he made you feel, but your chest twinges — one that twists deep. And no matter how much you try to quell that deep-seated fear, it never truly leaves you. A little voice in the back of your mind that repeats on a loop like a broken record, telling you: He’ll break your heart. They all do. But he can’t hurt you if you don’t let him. You resist the urge to turn and run. And instead, you turn to glance back in the mirror, sure to tame your disheveled appearance, giving Joel a chance to leave before you, slipping back into someone from your past.

He makes his way to the door, sliding the lock open; his hand curls around the handle but pauses before pulling it open. He turns to face you. “You okay?” he asks.

It shocks you. It’s more than his son ever did. Certainly means more to you after he’d ask, Was it good, after coming in you before you even got started. Everything Joel did tonight is more than his son ever did; asking you questions all night and listening attentively while you answered them — whether it was with the hope of fucking you or not — doesn't matter. You fought tooth and nail for a sliver of his son’s attention, but with Joel, he just fucking gave it to you.

You do your best to ignore that gnawing feeling of fear, clawing its way up your chest by the only way you know how; you press your lips to Joel’s, pushing your tongue into his awaiting mouth, and licking along the rim of his teeth. A strong hand curls around your jaw, fighting for dominance over the kiss, but you don’t let him for long, though. Reluctantly, you pry yourself off him, but not before Joel’s teeth softly graze your earlobe, nipping the flesh there.

You flash him a quick smile, looping the strap of your purse over your shoulder. “Perfect.”

He smiles softly at that, eyes dancing across your face. “Yeah,” he whispers and moves to the side, letting you step out first and following you out.

You head straight to the booth where your group of four awaits you, but not before peering over your shoulder and seeing Joel stalk towards his crew. You smile to yourself and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear as you approach your friends. As you shimmy in beside one of them, they ask where you were, and their brows pinch when you mumble, I was feeling a little dizzy. Which isn’t a total lie, but no one presses you for more, and you’re glad they don’t.

It’s not until your friends start collecting their belongings and announce they want to check out the new bar a few blocks down the street when you feel the weight of tonight’s actions sinking into you. You’re about ready to call it a night; your eyes are heavy, your brain is still fuzzy, and your body still has not recovered from Joel railing you.

You mull over sitting in the booth until the car you plan to order shows up to take you home. But the thought of waiting around in Joel’s presence makes your chest tighten. You don’t want to find out if he’ll be like the rest of them. Something to scratch an itch, and then wiping you from memory. That urge to flee loops back, and your legs force you to stand.

Collectively, you amble through the bar, still bubbling with energy, and as you make your way to the exit, you can feel the heat of a stare on you. You don’t need to turn to know who it is; his broad form ghosts along the edges of your periphery.

You walk against that pull you feel towards him, ache festering, skin burning, and bones grating with every heavy step, your eyes locked on the door like a missile to a target, not letting your eyes wander over to his booth, trying to keep what’s left of your dignity. Resisting. Resisting. Resisting.

Lucas steps out first, holding the door open for another group of younger twenty-somethings as they saunter into the bar. While you hang back, you quickly mumble over your shoulder to Nell that you’re thinking of heading home. Worry cuts across her face, and she extends an offer, At least let me drive you home, hun.

Your answer is cut off by the chime of your phone in your purse. You still and fumble for it and see a message from Mr. Miller. You had forgotten you never deleted his number.

Holding your phone close to your chest, cautiously away from your friend’s curious eyes, you click on the notification.

He’d sent you two of the pictures he happily took at the top of the hour with a message that reads, Look damn sexy on my cock, kiddo.

Your mouth falls open in a gasp, and pride swells in your chest as you glance at the first picture: Joel plugging your used cunt full of his length, his graying pubic hairs drenched and the base of his shaft gleaming with a white ring of creamy release. Your eyes flit upwards, and you finally get a chance to read the dark permanent lines he’d written on your skin.

Joel had crossed out the latter half of your tattoo on your ass cheek. It now reads, daddy’s fleshlight, in sloppy penmanship. With his grip porcelain white, the cross on his thumb makes an appearance as his digit digs into your hip at the corner of your tattoo. Your eyes drift further north, and above the globe of your ass, the small of your back reads, mine.

Your thumb swipes across the screen to the second picture. With his cock poised in his hand, he had pressed the swollen mushroom head, only a hairsbreadth beneath the ink on the plush flesh of your ass — black ink shiny with a pearly film, he had smeared it in your mixed juices. Your cunt clenches at the images — at his absence, missing the warm, thick stretch of him. And suddenly, you feel his cum beginning to dribble out of you and pool into the gusset of your already ruined thong.

When you don’t answer. The message bubble appears.

A beat, then two, and then—

There’s a place for you here.

You swallow down the twinge, the ache, press your thighs shut around emptiness, and feel another slight trickle escape your lower lips when your pussy releases more of his cum. You lock your phone and look back up at Nell in front of you. You feign nonchalance and wave her off, telling her you can’t go home just yet. Tell her that you received a few more requests from your boss and you, Don’t wanna take work home.

She asks how you’ll get home, you lie, and swiftly mention that you just saw Mr. Miller across the bar and that he’ll drive you home. Another tiny white lie. Your place is a solid halfway point from the bar to his house. And when she asks if you’re sure you’ll be okay alone, her hand gently squeezing your arm, brows furrowed with worry, bless her heart, your gaze follows that pull like a magnet and lands on Joel.

He’s already watching you.

Your eyes lock with his, one hand resting to the side while the other tips the glass he’d been nursing towards you, winking as he takes a short sip of amber liquid.

And there’s no pang in your chest. No urge to flee. Just the warmth of his gaze that in any second now will radiate through his touch, turning your bones to ash.

You flash Nell a smile. Yeah…You’ll be fine.

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