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satorusugurugurl · 3 months ago

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Teasing JJK Men With a Popsicle

Summary: When the sun is hot, you cool off with a tasty ocy treat! While also teasing your boyfriend.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna (Modern AU), AFAB!Reader

Warnings: suggestiveness, food play?? language, kissing, teasing, mock blowjobs, smutty-esque

Word Count: 5,5k

A/N: this is another poll prompt I did awhile back! I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things now that my writers block is gone! Enjoy!!

Gojo Satoru:

“Good mornin—ooh—” Shoko held her cigarette between her teeth, watching you boil with anger. “Not a good morning?” she asked, cockimg a brow as you plopped down on the bench next to her.

“It would’ve been if it wasn’t for Gojo.”

“Yikes, using your boyfriend‘s last name. What did he do to piss you off??

“It’s on the lines of what he ‘didn’t do.’” Your best friend took a long drag and blew the smoke above her head.

“I’m going to regret asking this, but what happened?”

The morning has started with the potential of being a great day. Gojo had you on top of him, rocking your hips against his morning wood, getting you all riled up before he broke the kiss. He quickly got out of bed, claiming that he needed to get ready for the meeting, which you knew was a crock of shit, but instead of calling him out, you made the mistake of joining him in the shower. He had you pinned against the wall, pressing between your legs, teasing your pussy before pulling away the second you began grinding down on him. It was painfully clear your asshole of a boyfriend decided to edge you all fucking morning. Once you made this discovery, you did your best to avoid him and his seductive advances.

But avoiding him was easier said than done.

On the ride to school, his fingers teased your inner thighs, rubbing the skin gently. When you finally made it to work, he cornered you in a classroom, rubbing himself over the fat of your ass. Gojo had woken up and chose violence this morning, and you were his victim.

“I’m seriously about to ask Yaga to send me off to supervise a mission or something to get me away from him.”

The only reason you were able to maintain some form of composure was all thanks to the first year’s training session Gojo was instructing. You had an hour to try to calm yourself down to get through the rest of the day, but knowing Gojo, he wouldn’t make the rest of the day easy. No amount of time would prepare you for the relentless torture. That was sure to ensue the second he got back from his lesson.

Shoko blew out another cloud, cupping some dark hair behind her ear. “Your solution is simple.” You stared blankly at your best friend. “You tease the bastard back.” Part of you jumps eagerly at the idea of switching the playing field. Part of you began cooking up all sorts of plots to invoke your revenge. The other half of you pouts, sinking slowly further down the bench.

“Yeah, and how do you suggest I do that? The last time I checked, he’s a giant who is untouchable. Even if I tried grinding against him, all he needed to do was put up his infinity.”

“You don’t have to grind on him to tease him. I’m a lesbian, and even I know that.”

“Then what do I do?”

Shoko put her cigarette out before gently grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the teacher's lounge. “We just need to make a quick stop at the kitchen.”

Gojo sighed as he watched the first-years brawl with the second-years. This was far less entertaining than teasing you had been. Seeing your pretty skin flush before you sighed in annoyance was his fuel for the day. Teasing you was just too easy. But he fully intended to make all the teasing worthwhile once you got home.

He just wanted to go as fast as he could to get back to said teasing. “Hey.” Never mind the waiting; it seemed as though some other almighty power had answered his prayers. You had been summoned near his side, practically begging to be teased! You were like a moth to the glowing flame that was his stature.

“Hey sweetie, what do you say we blow this popsicle stand and head to the sh-h-he—!!”

Gojo’s flawless Ivory skin flushed a crimson red when he turned his attention to you. Your pretty lips were sealed around a popsicle, sucking it as if it was his dick. Cheeks were hollowed, and your eyes narrowed as you watched his lips quiver under the shock of seeing you in such a promiscuous state. Once you were sure his attention was focused solely on you, your head began bobbing, taking more of (him) the popsicle into your mouth with a fucking moan. That sound alone should be reserved for him and his dick only, not some popsicle. Why the fuck was he getting insanely jealous over a sweet?!

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Cooling off?” You say, finally pulling off the cream-colored icy treat

Satoru scoffed, shifting his weight from one leg to the other to distract himself from his tightening pants. But nothing truly seemed to help because all he could focus on was how pretty your lips looked wrapped around your frozen popsicle. While he was suffering, you reveled in the satisfaction and the sweet taste of revenge.

“Baby, come on, don’t do this to me.” He complained, watching you take the whole length into your mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh?” You swirl your tongue around the tip. “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for what, Toru?” You asked, popping the popsicle back into your mouth

“I’m sorry for teasing you, okay?!”

Your lips together, humming thoughtfully as you tapped your index finger against your chin. “I guess you seem like you mean it.” Satoru nodded, fluffy tufts of white hair moving with his every move. “But that still doesn’t make what you did right, so no, I won’t stop.” Your boyfriend let out a pained moan as you returned to enjoying your frozen treat.

“Sweetie, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” Your cheeks hollowed as you suck the tip hard.

“Yes, anything!”

You hummed again, pulling off the tip. “You’re going to let me ride you tonight. And I will edge until I see tears in those blue eyes.”

Gojo scoffed, bending down slightly and getting in your face. “You say that as if it’s a punishment.” You focused on his blindfold as you pulled off the popsicle.

“Wanna bet?”

“Oh, please, like you riding me is a punish—” For an instant, Gojo waited, thinking that maybe you were going to have some smart retort to shoot back at him. But instead, you bit the tip of the popsicle off with your teeth with an aggressive snarl.

With pure satisfaction, you watched your boyfriend's hands shoot down his crotch. Where he covered his now soft cock. His jaw went slack as eyebrows twitched from underneath his blindfold, clearly pained by your actions. You smiled before patting him on the shoulder and turning to walk back towards the school with a sway in your hips. One that generally left him eager to get home, but this time, it sent pinpricks down his spine.

“Can’t wait to get home and teach you a thing or two!”

While the strongest sorcerer of the modern age watched, you saunter off. He was beginning to realize just how badly he had fucked up. And he was not looking forward to what you had planned for him. Okay, maybe he was a little excited.

Geto Suguru:

It wasn’t your fault. You had done nothing to deserve the sex ban your boyfriend had put you on. You may have fallen through a second-story window after purposely ignoring his warnings. And it may have been a fall that had resulted in you needing twenty stitches, but that didn’t mean he needed to withhold sex from you.

Normally when shit like this happened, the outcome either resulted and you were getting lectured or getting spanked, which wasn’t ordinarily bad at all. But seeing that this was your fifth injury in three weeks, Suguru decided to take a different approach to teach you a lesson, and it was a lesson that was working, much to your dismay.

This punishment was beginning to eat you alive.

You could live without sex for a week, but two weeks should be considered torture. To make matters worse, any attempts you had made to push Suguru to break the stupid ban himself had gone unnoticed, unbothered, and irritated you beyond all means. You were utterly desperate to get dick down by your fantastic boyfriend, but you still had another four days to go before the ban was up.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

You hummed as you stood at the end of an alley, looking back at your boyfriend, who used his curse technique on the curse you had been fighting into a ball. Suguru rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead, wiping away the sweat that coated his brow. It was a hot one in downtown Tokyo, but you had the perfect way to cool off! One that was sure to ignite the flames of passion deep inside Suguru’s chest.

“Okay,” Suguru said softly as walking towards the entrance of the alley where you were waiting for him, “I just need to swallow, and then we can get back to Jujutsu High. I was thinking maybe we could—” your boyfriend, paused, looking up from the cursed spirit in his palm, watching as you slowly run your tongue along the underside of a popsicle. “When did you have time to grab that?”

“Right when you started working your magic!” Your tongue stained a fluorescent red as the taste of cherry washed over your taste buds. “This cute little shop had them right by the door! Works out perfectly in that summertime Tokyo heat.”

Suguru hummed, eyeing the curse sphere in his hand, bracing himself for what he knew he had to do next. “Would you mind—” he stopped talking as you pushed yourself off the wall, turning to stand before him. You sucked on the cherry popsicle as if it were your boyfriend’s cock. Your cheeks bobbing your head over the sweet, tangy treat, all while maintaining eye contact with your boyfriend. “Princess.”

“Ah~!” you moaned out happily, popping your mouth off the tip of the popsicle. You made sure to lick your lips ever so slowly, hoping they were slightly swollen with all the sucking you had done. “Yes, Suguru~?”

This was it. He would finally break after all of your efforts in the three days! You couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say! Maybe it would be, ‘I can't take this any longer. I need to feel you!’ Or better yet, he might not say anything at all! He might drag you down the dark and take you right there against the brick wall. It would be an adrenaline rush with the prospect of getting caught doing some naughty things in public!

You could feel yourself vibrating with excitement and need. A look that didn’t go unnoticed by your incredibly observant boyfriend. He could see the way that you were pressing your thighs together. Your lips slightly parted at the sound of his voice. And the telltale sign was the fact that your eyes so bluntly focused on his crotch as if you were willing him to get erect. It was almost cute seeing you so eager.

“Make sure there’s no one coming.” The disappointment that flashed across your features like lightning was as clear as a crystal lake. “Go on.”

Your eyebrow twitched with visible anger, and you practically stormed to the end of the alley, looking both ways and ensuring no pedestrians were walking by. “It’s clear.” There was a sour tone to your voice, fully capable of cuddling milk.

“Thank you, darling,” Suguru responded before tilting his head back and popping the curse into his mouth.

The horrendous taste of a rag that was used to wipe up vomit coated his tongue before he was able to swallow the curse down. Once he absorbed the curse, he focused his attention on you to draw away from the horrendous taste that coated his mouth like a film. He usually found himself drawn towards you after he swallowed a curse. You were his anchor, in a way—something to ground himself to without losing himself in the disgusting taste that would drive anyone mad.

Typically, when his dark eyes met yours, he was met with a warm and gentle smile. Only this time, he was met with the burning, lustful gaze as you practically deep-throated a popsicle. Seeing you suck on it before hadn’t been all that distracting, but now that you were getting into it, it was a different story. Your eyes had a far-off gaze as you focused on him. Your head moved up and down over the popsicle, coding it in your saliva as you sucked on it hard.

Seeing you in such a state left Suguru swallowing harder than he had when he swallowed the curse. With each inch you took further into your mouth, you could see a flicker of need in his eyes. This was it—your boyfriend‘s breaking point. Suguru was going to be the one to crash; he was going to be the one to break his ban!

In the blink of an eye, Suguru snarled, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you deeper down the alley. The sudden jerky movement caused you to drop your popsicle, tumbling to the ground and breaking into several uneven pieces. But you didn’t give a fuck about the popsicle! You were more eager to get to be with your boyfriend again finally!

Suguru grabbed both your wrists, pinning them above your head. His lips met yours in a crash of pure, unfiltered need. The man didn’t even give you a chance to fully understand what was happening or try to match his pace. One, his lips were slanted against yours, and the next, he was showing his tongue into your mouth without even asking for permission by the tip of his tongue slowly over your bottom lip. You moaned, eyes fluttering shut as you kissed him back, his knee darting between your legs, pressing up against your clothed core.

He pulled away for a moment before slamming his lips back against yours, nearly causing your teeth to clash against each other.his tongue, massage yours, wrapping around the muscle, as you found yourself melting against him, hips, slowly, moving as the taste of cherry slowly enveloped his mouth. His feverish kisses began to cool down as your hips slowly began rocking against his thigh, eager For what else he had to offer you in his alleyway.

But as quickly as the kiss came, it ended. He pulled away, panting heavily as he released his grip on your wrists. You fell forward against his chest, gripping his jacket for support as he removed his knee from between your legs. You were shaking slightly at the arousal that burned through your veins like boiling water. Peering up at your boyfriend, you watched as he licked at the smeared cherry syrup on his lips.

“S-Sugu—what was?!”

“I just had to get the taste of the curse out of my mouth. And since you were so rudely didn’t even offer to get me a popsicle, I decided to make do with what I had. It’s not like Satoru is around to offer me candy. So I decided to taste your popsicle firsthand.”

You felt as though the world was crashing down on you. “I-I—!” Suguru shut his eyes as he tilted his head to the side, smiling softly, which was sinister with what he had just done to you.

“Did you honestly think that was going to break me? Oh, my sweet Princess, you’d have to do a lot more than that.” he wrapped his arm around your waist, leading you down the alleyway back to the bustling streets. “You have four days to go, then we can make up for lost time. But by all means, keep up your technique by sucking more popsicles, it may not break me, but I do enjoy the sight of you sucking on it.”

Needless to say you had learned your lesson. You found that out by yourself right then there, standing in an alley after being twat-blocked your boyfriend who was right. You needed to be more careful on your missions, and you definitely would be more careful from now on. Because your boyfriend was not going to ever break a sex ban.

Nanami Kento:

It was hot, and you felt even hotter in every part of your body. You were sitting on your porch watching your husband mow the grass in your backyard. You had offered to do it earlier this week, but he insisted on taking care of it because of how hot it was. The last thing he wanted was for his beautiful wife to get overheated and possibly suffer the consequences of heat stroke.

At first, you weren’t sure if you were insulted or relieved by his request. You wanted to help with the yard work; you had no problem doing that. But Nanami made you a deal: if you did the laundry, he would ensure the yardwork was done, which didn’t seem that fair of a deal to you. Your washing machine and dryer were inside the comfort of your air-conditioned house while your husband was stuck outside in the heat doing yard work.

After you finished the laundry, you changed into a pair of booty shorts and a tank top, fully motivated to get outside and help him finish the yardwork so the two of you could shower and relax for the evening. But the second Nanami spotted you walking down the steps of the porch, heading towards him, he stopped what he was doing and pointed to the chair that was under the shade.

“My love, it’s too hot for you to be out here. I'm almost done. Take a seat. I can handle it.”

“Kento, if you stop being so stubborn, we could get it done faster!” you pleaded with your husband, crossing your arms over your chest.“Just let me help you with weeding the garden!”

Your husband turned the lawnmower off, using the short brake to wipe the sweat Office face with his dirty shirt. “Sweetpea, I already finished picking the weeds; I watered all the plants; all I need to do now is just mow the lawn. So please take a seat and relax. It won’t take me very long.” You wanted to argue with him to tell him that he was being asinine about the whole situation; that stubborn look in his eyes, however, told you there was no persuading him to stop.

With a side of defeat, you back up the stairs of the porch, flopping your ass down in the lounge chair, looking out at him. Nanami smiled, readjusting his baseball hat with a wink before turning the lawn mower back on. Your husband often called you stubborn, but perhaps he needed to take the time to look in the mirror because he was just as stubborn, if not more stubborn than you.

Was it that bad that you wanted to help him out? It wasn’t as though you were some fragile flower incapable of doing yardwork. If you weren't so angry, you would’ve been able to take the time to enjoy the view in front of you. Your sweaty husband roamed around the yard, ensuring it was pristine. Sweat ran down his neck, biceps, and face, making him look as though he was some sort of Greek god.

But he was being childish at the current moment.

Clearly, trying to be an adult and offer your assistance to him wasn’t going to help, and talking to him about trying to persuade him to let you help wasn’t going to work either. There wasn’t much more you could do. Once your husband has made a decision, he typically sticks with it.

But there was one thing even the Nanami Kento couldn't resist on a hot day like this! You hopped out of your chair and rushed back into the house, heading straight for the freezer. You snickered to yourself as you pulled out your secret weapon before returning to the backyard.

Nanami had just turned the lawnmower off again and moved to discard the lawn clippings in the trash bag. He fully set it off to the side, intending to add it to the other compost by the shed you used for your flowers. Sweat ran down his chiseled cheeks, and he was looking forward to getting this done so he could take a very long shower with you. But just as he was about to connect the basket back to the lawnmower, he looked up at you and dropped it to the ground.

You were sitting back in the lounge chair, legs propped up on the porch railing, as you slowly licked around the frozen treat in the waffle cone in your hand. You are pretty tongue-lapped at your favorite frozen flavor, your eyes transfixed on him as you swirled your tongue expertly around the tip of the treat. Watching you do something so lewd on a dessert had Nanami swallowing hard. He suddenly found his basketball shorts were way too tight for comfort.

You had not intended for it to be like this. Your mind was nowhere even close to being in the gutter. Instead, your intentions were innocent. In the long run, your plan had been to entice him with ice cream to take a break in the shade with you. Maybe once he got out of the blazing heat, you would be able to convince him to allow you to help him. Your poor husband thought you were doing something completely different; fortunately, it worked.

His eyes were towards the grass that was cut evenly, aside from the small patches near the back wall that were practically unnoticeable to anyone who didn’t know the yard like you or Kento did; it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if he didn’t mow it just this once. The lawn society would come and arrest him for missing a minuscule part of the lawn. Besides, it was too damn hot to be out in the yard working in heat like this. Not when you sat on the porch looking at him with narrowed eyes as you lapped seductively at your treat.

A look you hadn’t realized you had even been giving the man. Your intentions had been pure. So you knew you had won when you watched Nanami quickly move across the yard, picking up his yard tools and throwing them in the shed without a care in the world. You silently fist-pumped the aias. Nanami came bounding across the yard with a purpose. There was a look in those honey-brown eyes as he ran up the stairs.

“How sweet of you to join m—mmphm!”

Your frozen dessert falls onto your lap as Nanami tosses his baseball cap off to the side, his hands gripping your face as he kisses you deeply. Your eyes rolled back, your mind completely ignoring the fact that your frozen treat was melting in your lap. All your brain could focus on was kissing Nanami back; everything else fizzled into the background as he lifted you out of the chair, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Mhmm—my love.” the moan that left Nanami’s mouth caused the little hairs on your arms to stand as goosebumps rose. “If you wanted me, all you had to do was ask.”

“H-Huh—?” you drunkenly asked as he opened the backdoor, expertly shutting and locking it as his lips moved over your neck. He chucked warm and deep, his face buried in your neck.

You inhaled sharply, whimpering as his teeth grazed over your pulse. “If you wanted me to ravish you this badly, all you needed to do was say so instead of teasing me.” Your mind raced as you suddenly became aware of what he had been talking about.

The ice cream. Your intention to innocently persuade him to join you on the porch to cool off had been misconstrued as a beg for him to stop what he was doing so you could suck him off, maybe even do more. So, the way you saw it, you had two options. Be honest with your husband and tell him you just wanted the home to cool off on the porch as a ploy to convince him to let you help with the yard. Or, go with what he was saying and have steamy, hot shower sex.

“Oh shoot! You caught me! Here, I thought I was being so aloof with my plans!”

Your husband kicks the door to your bedroom open, heading into the bathroom. “Luckily for me, I can read you like a book.” Your fingers run through his slightly damp, sweat-ridden hair, scratching at the undercut as you pull yourself in and kiss him deeply.

“That you do.”

Ryomen Sukuna (Modern AU)

The door to the apartment flew open, and you snarled, eyes searching for any sign of your boyfriend. “Kuna!” screamed at the top of your lungs. There was no response, but that didn’t stop you from searching the empty apartment for your teasing boyfriend.

Intentions of making him pay for the relentless teasing he had put you through your workday. It started as an innocent text that said good morning and to have a good day. That innocent message progressed to him saying he missed you, followed by a picture of him lying in bed, his ripped abdomen muscles on full display. The photo in itself is something you were used to, but the images that followed were out of nowhere.

Pictures of his bulge in his basketball shorts came up on your screen. With each picture that showed up, they became more scandalous. The bulge turned into photos of him, groping himself through his pants, the erection clearest day to shots of his tattooed, happy trail all the way up to the base of his cock. Your face flushed as you shielded your phone from the prying eyes of your coworkers. You texted him to knock it off, but that was not easily persuaded. He did what he wanted, and he didn’t give a fuck.

Those scandalous photos turned into Voice Memos that had your panties soaked and your lip raw from how hard you bid it to hold the back whimpers. The man was torturing you, and you had planned to make him suffer as much as he had made you. But now that you were finally off the clock, in the safety of your own home, and the bastard was nowhere to be found!? Typical teasing dick move.

You stormed into the kitchen, searching for something to distract yourself with. Finding a popsicle in the freezer, you unwrapped it just as the front door opened and shut. In a second, you watched as your boyfriend around the corner, dropping his keys on the counter.

“Kitten!” shouted around with hungry desire. “I'm home!”

“Hm.” Instead of responding with the normally warm, enthusiastic welcome, he was greeted with the coldness of a winter storm.

“Oh, don't hm me. What do you say I ma—” His words traveled off as he fixed his gaze on you, witnessing you pushing the pink popsicle into your mouth, sucking on the tip as he blinked before focusing on you.

Teasing wasn’t as fun now that he was the one on the receiving end of it. That’s what you thought. You had been eager to watch his face contort with need. Longing to make him suffer the same way he had made you suffer throughout the entirety of your day. Shortly as you found yourself lost in thoughts, you were met with the dark, almost void look in his crimson eyes.

That almost emotionless look in his eyes, and he didn’t seem bothered by your actions. Instead, you’ve leaned further over the counter, not breaking the eye contact. There was a lot you had been expecting your boyfriend to do in response to your teasing. So you continued to deep-throat the icy treat. But when Soukouna reached into the fruit bowl on the counter, picking up a peach, your eyebrows twitched as you tried to figure out what he intended to do.

A split second passed before Sukuna reached for the knife block. He pulled out the pairing knife, still maintaining icon contact. You walked, and your boyfriend sliced into the fruit. Its sweet juices beat against the fuzzy skin. The second peach was split in half. Sukuna grabbed the pit of the peach, throwing it into the sink.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, continuing to suck on the popsicle in a very messy manner. Was he seriously going to sit there and eat a peach without saying anything? Before you could even continue to question his intentions, you came to the shocking realization that he wasn’t going to eat the peach.

Your big buff boyfriend leaned over the counter himself, holding the peach in one hand while the other gripped the counter with his other. You watched as his pierced tongue slid out of his mouth slowly, lapping at the inside of the peach; in a way, he typically ate you out. He ran his piercing over the indent of the peach where Sukuna re the tip of the pit was, where your clit would be. He ran his tongue over that spot over and over before his tongue slid back down, lapping over the juicy peach.

Watching him lapping at the peach in such a seductive manner made you choke at first. Your boyfriend snickered as he kept his burning gaze focused solely on you. What the fuck? Why was this so erotic?! Watching him eating out a peach, you were suddenly jealous.

“What’s wrong, Kitten?” He purred out cocking an eyebrow. The juices from the peach smeared over his mouth as he pulled away. “You can dish it out but can’t take it?”

“Mhmm~!” You hummed out aggressively, swirling your tongue over the top of the popsicle. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You whispered, running the tip of your tongue over what you pretended was the slit of your boyfriend's cock.

“Ah, okay, I see. You can pretend you’re not imagining that popsicle as my thick cock, but I’m pretending this.” He held the peach up. “Is your sweet cunt.”

His words sent fire to pool in your abdomen. “O-oh yeah?” You questioned as if you didn’t know that’s what he was doing.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t compare to you.” He growled as he flicked his tongue over the peach. “You’re so much wetter, sweeter, and make the prettiest sounds. I’d much rather bury my head between your thighs.”

“Yet you’re still licking the peach.”

“And you're still deepthroating a fucking popsicle.”

You weren’t going to break down first! You refused to when he had started the teasing this morning while you were at work. Even if the popsicle melted you had a freezer full of them to continue this stupid game.

“Mmm~haaah~” Sukuna moaned softly, flicking his tongue over the peach in strategic swipes, ones you were familiar with. “S,” Sukuna hummed before you watched his tongue quickly dip down, “U,” the pink tongue darted down before two quick flicks followed, “K—”

You were a liar.

You threw the popsicle to the floor before snatching the peach away from your boyfriend and throwing it into the sink. Your boyfriend's smirk didn’t even have a chance to tug at the corner of his mouth as you yanked him closer to you by the straps of his tank top. Not expecting you to falter so quickly, Sukuna barely had time to process what was happening before he was dragged around the kitchen island, where your lips slammed against his.

All cocky attitudes joined the discarded peach pit in the sink as you both threw yourselves at each other. The sweet, sticky taste of peaches and strawberries collapsed in a kaleidoscope of flavors as your tongues massaged each other as you fell to the tile floor, wrapping your limbs around your boyfriend. Clothes were tugged off, and belts were unbuckled before moans flooded the apartment, and neither of you intended to stop until you were a sticky, sweaty mess.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

Text

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇

pairing: joel miller x webcam model!f!reader

genre: no outbreak AU, explicit smut, minors dni

word count: 9k

summary: Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

warnings: joel is bi in this, sex toys, paddles, nipple clamps, pillow humping, self-spanking, female/male masturbation, piv, dirty talking, possesive!joel, cum eating, oral (female receiving), size kink

additional warning: alright so there is a short moment in this where reader smacks herself with a paddle that has a heart-shaped hole and gets a heart mark on her skin, I don't use any descriptions (like calling it red or pink etc) but I'm also not oblivious enough to think everyone would get a mark when getting spanked so I wanted to let you know in case that would put you off and wouldn't want to read and that's completely fine!

a/n: this definitely ended up being longer then it needed it to be bfgbfg I want to take the anon who requested this, and the rest of you who chimed in and voted on the polls. I hope you all enjoy 💜 oh, also a special thanks to @missredherring who gave the idea of a more in-depth reason as to why Joel likes honeysuckle flowers 👀

edit!!! this has more than one part now! click here for the masterlist

Joel was lonely.

He hadn’t really thought about it until Sarah went off to college.

Since the day she was born, he had one thing and one thing on his mind only—to give his little girl everything that he could and make her happy. The rest didn’t concern him. He didn’t really care about dating, he didn’t have the time to think about how lonely he was. He had been on a couple of dates, all of which were initiated by Sarah as she entered her teenage years, pleading with him to go out and have a life.

But now that she was gone, studying what she always wanted to study and being happy, the emptiness began to spread like a nasty infection. Every creak and groan of the house sounded like mockery to him. He started keeping the TV open all night, most of the time falling asleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night startled by sudden shouts from a randomly playing film or show. He hated it. This wasn’t how Joel imagined his golden years to be like.

Maybe that’s why he decided to use the damn website. Ravish. He’d heard it from Tommy first —which was an uncomfortable conversation as one could imagine— and after that, he kept on hearing the name.

Ravish

It was like a shitty pop song, stuck between his teeth like toffee, impossible to get rid of. The name made a home in his brain, making its presence known whenever he was doing anything, no matter how mundane the task was.

Ultimately, he gave in. What was the worst that could happen?

Joel groans. He stares at the screen with his brows drawn tightly together, the text cursor blinking as it waits for him to type out a username. It’s been almost ten minutes. A brief thought of asking Tommy passes through his mind but he quickly pushes the thought away and leans over the keyboard.

JMiller. That should be alright. He doesn’t need anything fancy, and J can be any name. It can be Jack, Jacob, Jonathan, John, Jeremy. There are a bunch. Besides, Miller is a pretty common last name, so if someone asks if he's JMiller, he can just deny it. Not that anyone would. Everyone would be too busy jerking off to pretty people. The last thought anyone would have would be of him.

He quickly decides on his password and he’s immediately overwhelmed. There are too many things happening at once. His eyes widen, heart beating a bit too fast as he moves his mouse around. In the corner, there’s a little pop-up begging for his attention, and on the screen, there are multiple thumbnails of women and men. When he drags his mouse over a thumbnail it starts moving and he jumps.

“Holy hell,” he mutters. “I’m in way over my head.”

Joel gets up to pour himself a glass of whiskey. After that, he sits on the couch again and takes three deep breaths. The ice clicks together as he takes a swig, the amber liquid pleasantly burning as it goes down his throat. He looks around some more, looking for the profiles that pique his interest the most.

While he scrolls, he sees one of a man with the username NicolasCageFreak, which he finds odd, but the man is pleasing to the eye with soft brown curls and natural honey highlights in between. The man has a small bullet vibrator pressed against his hard length, a cock ring at the base of it. Joel presses like and saves it for later.

Joel has to remind himself a couple of times that the people who stream can’t actually see him. The more he scrolls the more relaxed he feels. There’s a woman with pretty green eyes he saves for later and another man with the username CammingBravo. He has his face hidden, Joel can see the red ribbon circling the back of his head as he bends over, granting the viewers a delicious sight of his ass that has a shiny buttplug.

Liked! Added to your queue for later.

Until now Joel was fairly certain he was straight, sometimes he’d get the occasional same-sex dream but he figured everyone did at some point in their lives. He’s not so sure anymore.

Some more scrolling and Joel starts getting restless. His cock strains against his sweatpants, aching for his rough touch. He takes a deep breath. The next live stream he sees that he likes he’ll click and that will be that. He’s starting to get worked up and, unlike NicolasCageFreak, he’s not a fan of edging himself.

Then he sees her. A woman wearing a delicate chain vest with rhinestones that sparkle whenever she moves. His eyes flit to the username; Honeysuckle. He loves that flower, he has many memories of picking them with Tommy and sucking the sweet nectar hidden inside. He wonders if she tastes just as sweet.

Not one to break a promise to himself, Joel clicks on the thumbnail. His eyes are instantly drawn to the live chat. There are so many people asking her to do something all at once—Jesus Christ. There are also a couple of them just chatting as if they were friends with her. He sees that everyone calls her Honey, which is fitting and a bit on the nose, he thinks.

Noticing that he has the stream muted, Joel unmutes it, a pleasant tingle running down his spine as soon as her voice comes through the speakers of his laptop.

“Wow, Eric47 I’m so happy you got that promotion!”

“Don’t worry everyone, I’ve been thinking naughty thoughts all day and I��m ready to put on a show.”

“Patience everyone.”

“Thank you for buying a private chat, SarahBelieves! I can’t wait to be your good girl. . .”

Joel is too focused on her tone, the smooth lilt of her voice, to hear the words she’s saying. The only thing his ears pick up on is the words private and chat. He wasn’t aware you could buy some extra time with the streamers. He loves that—

He shakes his head. Loves? Is he already planning on paying? At the thought, his cock twitches with interest, his reserve quickly crumbling to the floor.

Joel decides to focus on the stream first. He can decide later on if he wants a private session or not. He cups himself through the soft fabric of his sweatpants, groaning as a spike of relief shoots through him. His eyes are glued to the screen. Honey’s hard nipples poke through the chains, her hands delicately kneading the tender mounds as she rises slightly by lifting herself onto her knees. She’s on a bed, wearing black panties and a matching garter. Joel’s mouth waters. The things he would do to her. . .

His tongue pokes from between his lips, soft tendon moving with muscle memory as he thinks of eating her sweet cunt out.

“Today my sweet bees,” she addresses them. “I was thinking of fucking myself with the biggest dildo I’ve got, how does that sound?”

Joel’s eyes drift to the chat. Everyone seems to be cheering and asking her to show them how much she can take. There’s also a bunch of them calling her their favorite size queen. She chuckles.

“I love all dicks, in any shape or form,” she purrs. “I’m just in the mood for a bit of pain.”

Pain. That captures Joel’s attention. It makes him curious about all the other things she might be into. Perhaps she enjoys getting spanked, or she would enjoy the feeling of someone dragging their nails down her pretty back. He wants to know. He wants his imaginary scenarios to be as accurate as possible.

He’s about to pull out his cock when he hears her voice again.

“I do have one question though,” she says innocently. “Should I keep these pretty black panties on or off?” she grins into the camera, her eyes shining with mirth. “Let’s see those answers, my bees.”

What do you want? Joel wants to ask. But this isn’t that kind of scenario so he thinks. The answers come flying in, there’s a fifty-fifty ratio. Joel’s mind blanks for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching. He wants her to keep them on. He likes the idea of her sliding them to the side and fucking herself deep, it feels more animalistic, more raw. He enjoys the idea of claiming someone, a curiosity he hasn’t yet fully explored yet.

He types exactly that. His wording and grammar a bit too neat compared to the rest, but he gives Honey his answer. He wants her to keep it on. Maybe play with herself some more until the fabric is basically see-through, then she can fuck herself with the biggest cock she’s got.

Joel watches intently as her eyes go over the live chat, there are so many answers coming in, he doubts she’ll see his comment. Still, he likes to believe she’ll see it.

Honey’s eyes still briefly, hunger swirling in them as a canine sinks into her bottom lip. Her smile is bashful and shy, much different than the character she’s playing. Her eyes move back to the camera. Joel watches her breasts as her chest heaves, nipples grazing against the cool metal.

“Well, well, JMiller. . . you certainly have a mouth on you,” she tuts and Joel’s eyes go wide. The satisfaction he feels leads to goosebumps coursing over his burning skin, being noticed. . . it’s surprisingly thrilling. “Are you new? I haven’t seen your handle before.”

Joel swallows, his hands shaking as he types in a quick “yea”, Honey smiles, “Welcome to the hive then, baby. Keep the comments up,” she sighs, cupping both her tits. “I love a man who knows how to dirty talk.”

A knot forms in his throat, his skin tight. He wasn’t expecting to be this affected. Now he understands why so many people enjoy live streams. They don’t see you, not actually, but still, it almost fills the void. Almost. He’s excited now, eager to type in more of his thoughts, eager to hear her answer him. Joel pulls out his cock, the waistband of his sweats hugging his thighs. He gives himself a firm tug, his spine straightening at the burn gathering in his lower stomach. It feels fucking good.

“Since it’s J’s first time, and because he got me all hot and bothered, why not leave the panties on for this time?” Honey says. Joel observes the chat, there are a lot of congratulatory messages addressed to him, welcoming him. He doesn’t care. “You want to see these panties soaked, huh? You guys know how much I love making a mess.”

Honey shimmies back, revealing more of her bare legs. She spreads them for the camera, the soft sound of delicate metal filling the air whenever she moves. Her fingers start to move lazily over her clothed clit, her head falls. Joel can see a subtle dark patch growing, his own hand starting to move slowly up and down his throbbing cock. A drop of precum dribbles down, easing the glide of his rough palm. She doesn’t look at the chat as frequently as she did before, too focused on her pleasure. Her glossy lips part and her eyes scrunch up. Her moans are loud and breathy, signs that she lives alone.

Joel doesn’t think as he fists himself. Normally when watching porn he would think; he would think of a scenario, or what he would be doing differently, or the things he would want to do. This is different. He’s just watching, inhaling what’s being given to him. He sucks a sharp breath, his hand moving faster, the side of his fist smacking against his pelvis, dark curls damp under his palm.

“Fuck,” Honey moans, eyes peering toward the screen. Her fingers move faster, her hips grinding to meet the graze of her palm. Joel groans, his eyes rolling back into his skull. “I think I’m going to come,” he breathes out. “Should I?”

Joel doesn’t bother with typing until he hears his alias.

“JMiller, since you’re new the decision is yours. Should I? P-Please answer,” she sounds desperate, her hips rutting the air as she presses her fingers hard against her clit. “O-Or do you want me to come on your cock?”

Joel’s hips stutter, filling the tightness of his fist, “Fuckin’ hell.”

With sticky fingers he types his answer, telling her that she should come with his cock deep inside her. Joel also adds that he wants to hear her, telling her to be loud.

“O-Okay,” she whines, almost tearful as she reaches to grab her dildo off-screen. Joel can’t help the grin that makes its way across his face. He types again, telling her not to cry and that she’ll be coming soon enough. When he presses enter, he notices that his name is highlighted in dark orange. “You’re kind of an asshole,” she answers playfully. “I like that.”

You're the buzzing heartbeat of Honeysuckle’s live stream! You are picked by the streamer as the treasured Drone Bee, your unwavering loyalty and vibrant energy create an electrifying atmosphere. Your presence is a key ingredient in making the honey even sweeter!

A growl echoes in his throat when Honey shows the camera the dildo she had picked out. She wasn’t kidding when she said it was her biggest. It’s bigger than his own dick, and Joel is by no means a small man. He squeezes his cock and looks down, with a sudden need growing in his chest, he purses his lips and lets a long trail of saliva drip between his lips. He shudders when it reaches the head of his cock. He swipes his palm over it and continues to stroke himself, he wants to come.

He wants them to come at the same time.

Honey pushes the dildo in slowly, giving her viewers a clear sight of what’s happening. The toy stretches her wide, the ache of it pulling a gasp from her pretty lips. Joel breathes heavily, his nostrils flaring as his hand speeds up.

Oh, how he would love to be the one fucking slowly into her, to hear those little gasps coming from her in person rather than his shitty speakers. He holds his breath. It’s buried fully inside of her now. She slowly looks down, her eyes looking directly into the camera.

“I hope the view down there is good,” she says with a smirk. Joel doesn’t type anything. He focuses on the way his cock drools for her, aches to be buried in her cunt. Honey pulls out the toy until it’s only the tip that’s inside and then shoves it all in one smooth thrust. She cries out, her voice unfiltered. Joel’s stomach jumps at the sound, his pupils dilating like a wolf seeing its prey for the first time.

She fucks herself hard, whimpering and crying out every time she fuck herself deep. Joel sees the way the plastic surface shines with her slick, he bets she tastes fucking sweet.

He knows she’s close when her thighs begin to shake—he also knows thanks to the live chat going completely berserk, cheering her on and telling her to squirt. Joel, despite her own release close enough that he can taste it, rolls his eyes.

“This one is for you JMiller,” she whimpers and Joel’s eyes go wide, his cock pulsing in his wet fist. “Hope you’re gonna fall down the edge with me, big guy.”

Joel doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until she’s coming—she does so with a loud moan, her cunt fluttering around the large cock. Her head falls back completely, giving a clear view of her heaving chest, nipples fully erect under the see-through armor.

His fall from grace is less pretty. He lets out a grunt, his hips fucking into his hand helplessly as come spurts from the slit, it’s almost painful. His heart beats aggressively while he tries hard to keep his focus on the screen, he doesn’t want to miss anything. Joel makes a mess of himself and his surroundings, the rug underneath his socked feet stained with his release.

Joel’s cock stops throbbing and with a pleased sigh, his shoulders drop.

“That felt fuckin’ goood,” he groans, staring blankly at the ongoing live stream. Vaguely he notices Honey pulling the toy out, an equally fucked out expression on her face. The live chat is still going wild, he manages to lean over and type in one last sentence before going offline.

Good girl.

Joel is a weak weak man.

Watching Honey quickly became a routine for him. She would start streaming around the same time he would come back from work and it was the perfect way to let off some steam. Tommy had asked if he checked out Ravish, to which Joel promptly said no. He didn’t need his baby brother making fun of him.

Besides, some primal part of him didn’t want Tommy to know about Honey. It’s an odd thought, he realizes, since she’s enjoyed by many many people. Still, he didn’t have an explanation for what he was feeling.

Once she had brought in a guest, and his body had immediately rejected it. He was ready to close the stream and head to the bathroom for a quick shower—however, he stopped when he noticed who the guest was; CammingBravo. Another streamer who had caught Joel’s attention when he was scrolling through the endless amount of entertainers for the first time. He watched Honey eat out his tight little asshole, then he watched Bravo fuck her senseless, making her soak the sheets.

Joel never came that hard in his life before— It was exhilarating. He tipped handsomely that night and Honey mentioned how JMiller was one of her best viewers. Bravo’s smile, which was surprisingly kind, was infectious.

He would be lying if he said his chest didn’t puff up a little.

And, of course, he ended up buying a private chat with her after that. He just had to. It would just be this one time, he told himself, just one hour without the live chat. Just him and her.

He turns on the laptop, already knowing that he’s kidding himself. There’s no way this will be a one-time thing. He’s too. . . smitten to leave it with one private chat.

Maybe he can limit himself to once a month. That seems reasonable.

The familiar website of Ravish loads and he clicks on the little gray person in the corner. He finds the section that’s titled “private chats” and clicks. Her username, Honeysuckle, pops up. On the screen, it says she’ll be with him shortly.

A minute later the screen goes black and her face comes into view. She’s wearing a pink see-through bra with strawberries on it, Honey’s smile is bright as she looks into the camera.

“Hi there J!” she greets him, his stomach warms at the sound of her voice. “This is your first time doing a live chat right?”

He nods absent-mindedly while typing. Honey reads his answer and gives him an empathetic look.

“Okay, so you don’t have to show your face—obviously—but if you want you can click the tiny microphone in the corner and talk to me directly. But if that’s also too much you can continue to type what you want me to do.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise. Talk to her. . . with his actual voice? The thought both excites and sends cold fear down his spine. What would he even say? What if she doesn’t like the sound of his voice?

“Are you there?” her voice comes through. “Is everything alright?”

His fingers tense and rigid, Joel types in the questions that swirl in his head. Luckily the questions sound cheeky without any tone indicators so Honey smiles, her eyes narrowing while her lips curl seductively.

“You can say anything you want, big boy,” she licks her lips. “And don’t worry about your voice, I’m yours for the hour. You might as well have the most shrill voice in the world, I would still tell you how sexy you sound.”

You always call me that. Why? . . . Also, it doesn’t make me feel any better when you say you’ll tell me how good I sound regardless but I get what you mean.

Joel aggressively chews the smooth inside of his cheek. Honey reads his messages, a grin stretching across her beautiful face, “Let’s just say streamer’s intuition,” she winks. “As for the other thing, I mean that you don’t need to worry. I doubt you have the most shrill voice in the world.” she thinks over her words before adding. “Of course, it’s up to you. If you don’t want to use voice chat that’s completely fine.”

Joel sighs, his curser hovering over the tiny microphone. Closing his eyes, he clicks.

“Can—Can you hear me?”

Her eyes sparkle.

“Crystal clear,” she answers with a wide smile. “You sound hot.”

She sounds genuinely impressed. Joel can’t help but chuckle with the shake of his head. “Don’t sound so surprised but thanks, I think?”

“Oh it’s definitely a compliment,” she says rolling her tongue. “Is there anything you want me to call you or should I just call you J?”

There’s a brief moment where he thinks of just telling her his name but he bites his tongue at the very last moment. His heart does a little jump when he answers, “You can call me. . . sir.”

“Understood, sir,” she repeats, her voice dripping with lust. A shudder crawls up his spine and he has to brace himself by holding his knees. “There is also a matter of safewords, I don’t do everything as I’m sure you don’t as well. Red is for stop, yellow is for slow down and green is for go. I think that’s the simplest one but if you want to use a different word I’m okay with that.”

Joel blinks before answering, “Uh, yeah sounds good.”

“Also the website doesn’t allow screen recordings—which I appreciate— so you can’t film these sessions in any way. I’m just letting you know because no one reads the terms of service and one client was very unhappy when he got a cease and desist.”

“I. . . okay, I wouldn’t even think of it.”

She smiles and Joel’s heart feels a bit lighter, “Good,” with the rules established, a sense of relaxation washed over both of them. “So, do you have anything planned for me?”

Joel clears his throat as a warning and her eyes glimmer with amusement.

“Sorry,” she breathes heavily. “Did you have anything planned for me, sir?”

“Would you laugh if I said no?”

“Sir, I would never laugh at you,” she pouts, brows turning upward. Momentarily she looks off screen and when her eyes find the lens again she smiles giddily. “Would you want me to show you the toys I think you’ll like?”

Joel smiles at how genuinely excited she sounds, it’s hard to remind himself that this is all an act and that this is her job. He wants this to be real. He wants her to actually be excited to show him all the things she wants him to use.

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he answers not missing the way her lips part with a soft gasp. “Show me what you got.”

Honey shows him a handful of her toys. She has a lot. Dildos of various sizes, vibrators, nipple clamps, kegel balls, anal plugs, anal beads, floggers, collars, paddles. . . she might as well have an entire sex shop in her room. Joel takes mental notes of all of them to use during their next sessions.

“Anything that you like, sir?”

“The paddle,” he murmurs, feeling a bit flustered now that they’re actually getting into it. “The one with the heart-shaped hole and. . . the nipple clamps—”

“The heart-shaped ones?”

Joel swallows thickly, “Y—Yeah.”

“No need to be shy, sir,” she grins. “It’s only you and me.” Honey picks out the toys Joel requested and raises an eyebrow while her gaze searches the pile. “So, no dildos? Or vibrators?”

“I . . . had somethin’ else in mind, if that’s alright.”

“Ohhhh, a mystery,” she purrs, winking into the camera. “I love it, sir.”

Honey is slow to rid herself of her bra, sliding one arm out and then the other before moving both hands to the back to unclasp herself free of the dainty fabric. Her chest nears the camera, giving him a full view of her fully erect nipples. Joel’s breathing grows heavier by the second. He can feel his cock stiffen, pleasure stirring in his gut. He quickly kicks off his shorts, leaving himself bare on the couch as he watches her secure the clamps over each nipple. She lets out a tiny sigh of bliss, pulling her arms back and planting her palms firmly against the mattress, she shows her newly decorated nipples.

Joel groans and wraps his hand around his cock. She does a little wiggle, the soft sound of bells making his cock twitch.

“Are you touching yourself, sir?”

“Yea.”

“Good, I want to hear you get off,” she quickly adds. “Sir.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweet thing,” his eyes flutter closed as his fist moves down, and he opens them back up after giving himself a firm squeeze. “Turn around,” he grunts. “And don’t forget the paddle.”

She does as she’s told, which in return gives Joel an immense sense of control and satisfaction. Precome drips down his length, he uses it to lube himself further, paying extra attention to be loud for her. Just like she wanted.

His eyes follow the movement of the paddle, she drags it over the right cheek of her ass, caressing her skin. Her panties disappear between the crease of her gorgeous ass, leaving little to the imagination. “Is this okay, sir?” she asks, her voice thick. “Am I being a good girl?”

Goosebumps rise over his skin. He’d called her, wrote to her, good girl after every stream—his smirk is laced with something dark when he realizes that she must’ve enjoyed it.

“You’re being very good,” he answers. “Now hit yourself with it, I want to see a heart tattooed on that pretty flesh of yours.”

“Southern man into branding, why am I not surprised?” she purrs and lifts her ass closer the camera. “You like seeing your pretty girl all marked up by her owner?”

Fuck.

“Don’t get full of yourself,” he orders, adding a bit more venomous tone to his voice. Honey stills, and briefly Joel worries he’d overstep. He stops breathing, not wanting to miss even the smallest hint of the safeword.

But then she shudders, hitting herself lightly with the paddle. “How’s this, sir?” she says, her lilt indicating that she’s highly aware it isn’t enough.

“Harder.”

She spanks herself harder, her body jolting. Joel can hear the bells. He circles the head of his cock with the pad of his thumb, groaning as he makes himself more comfortable on the couch.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you’re listenin’,” he inhales slowly, enjoying the way her muscles tense. “I want to see those hearts on your skin. I thought this was supposed to be a show.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

He loves how breathy her voice has gotten. Heat licks the base of his spine, his cock begging for release.

She raises the paddle, smacking her plump meat much harder than before. Her asscheek ripples and Joel can finally see a faint trace of a shape. But it’s not clear enough to be a decent heart. “Again,” he orders.

It takes about six to nine times before the heart takes shape on her skin. She’s whimpering, tremors moving up and down her body as she fights the urge to collapse. She loves seeing his mark there, she might’ve placed herself, but it was his doing and he revels in it.

“Good,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Good fuckin’ girl. Lookin’ so pretty for me.”

“S-Sir,” she mutters. Joel doesn’t know what to expect until her hand comes between her legs, sliding the thin line of her panties to the side. Her cunt is a sopping mess. Joel leans further towards the screen, his tongue licking the roof of his mouth. “Do you see how wet I am? P-Please, I want to come—Can I, sir?”

“Fuck, ‘course you can,” his neck feels warm, burning almost. “Turn around, grab one of them pillows behind you.”

“P-Pillow?”

She sounds dazed, Joel almost feels bad for her, almost. “Yes sweetheart, pillow,” he coos. “I want you to grind that pretty cunt against it. . . honey.”

“Shit, say that again.”

“Honey,” he groans again, his hips thrusting into the air, burying himself deep into his fist. His voice drops further as he begins to chant, “Honey, honey, honey, honey—”

She visibly clenches at that, her entire body tight with arousal. With shaky hands, she brings the pillow between her thighs, straddling the soft cushion. Her head falls back as she gives it an experimental roll of her hips, Joel’s breath catches in his throat. She looks delectable. Her hands come up to her chest and tugs at the clamps, she jumps, a wanton moan echoing from the back of her throat.

“You’re so worked up aren’t you?” Joel continues as she grinds herself further down, leaving a wet, darkened patch behind. He’s preaching to the choir. His own arousal drooling over his knuckles. He closes his eyes, allowing his mouth to roam free. “Stuff three fingers in your mouth, want you to choke darlin’.”

With a whine, she nods and pushes three fingers between her lips. Joel smirks, “It ain’t nearly enough but at least you can get a feelin’ of how much my cock would stretch those pretty lips, honey,” he rasps. She shudders, her hips moving wildly over the pillow. “You love havin’ your mouth full don’t you?”

“Yesh, sur,” she moans around her own fingers, she move acutely, and with every jerk of her hips, Joel can see her throbbing clit. He’s teetering on the edge of his release, heat pools between his legs, his balls go tight.

“I’m gonna come, honey,” he groans, his tight shaking. “Come with me, show me how wet your get that pillow.”

With a hint of mischief in her eyes, she loudly gulps around her fingers, giving Joel a clear few of her cunt before rolling her hips down against the smooth surface. His eyes go wide and before his brain can register the coil snapping, he spills over his hand. Heavy strings of come dripping down his hard throbbing length. He makes a choked sound as he tries to breathe in and out at the same time. Honey pulls out her fingers from her mouth and grins, her hands drop in front of her and she bounces up and down, mimicking the way she would ride him.

The action manages to squeeze one last rope of come from him, his lungs collapse, his body burning. She comes right after, her thighs squeezing around each side of the pillow before gushing around it. Joel can see the shine as she continues to grind her hips.

“Show me,” he pants, his next words quickly shifting into a growl. “Show it to me.”

Licking her lips, Honey pulls the pillow from between her legs and shows it to him. His cock twitches with interest. “Wanna taste you,” he says without thinking.

“Sadly technology hasn’t improved that much yet,” she answers. “But I’ll tell you this much,” she leans in and flattens her tongue against the soaked fabric. Joel’s jaw tightens, his molars digging together painfully. She moans. “I taste sweet. Like honey.”

You hate visiting home.

You hate the heat, the crowd, staying at a home where you’re still treated like a child when you haven’t been one for a long long time. But you didn't really have a choice when your dad hurt his leg, which meant that you had to help around with the tiny bookshop your family owned. It was a miracle that it was still standing, but people did love their old, dusty bookshops. You had to admit, you enjoyed the aura of the place.

Your mom had asked you to bring over two coffees before coming in, she opened up shop early which you were grateful for. Now that you were home, you didn’t have the luxury to do as many private calls as you wanted to. You still streamed late at night, keeping silent, your audience didn’t mind. They thoroughly enjoyed the whispering and the “we can’t be caught” act. You only indulged in one private session, a session that you couldn’t bare letting go of.

JMiller.

You thought a lot about what his real name might be. Jacob, Jeff, Jeremy. . . none of them felt right. It was disappointing because you wanted to scream his name when you had your hand between your legs. But since you couldn’t decide on a name, you whimpered a string of sirs over and over again.

You eagerly counted down the hours until you could finally spend time with him. This was a funny thought on its own because you boasted about how professional you were. You kept things clear, not allowing for any miscommunication or—potentially—feelings. But there was just something about him that got your entire body yearning to hear his southern drawl. Maybe it was the nostalgia of it all. You did grow up in Austin after all. But still. It was odd how excited you got before going online.

You briefly mentioned you were going back home, you didn’t tell him where, obviously, but you did tell him that there could be scheduling issues. He understood.

Of course he did, he was perfect.

Pulling yourself away from your thoughts, you impatiently drum your foot against the clean marble floors. This line is insane. You let out a groan, sending your mother a quick text that it might take you a while. A second later your phone buzzes with a thumbs-up emoji from her. You sigh again as you shove the phone down your back pocket, you hate waiting, it gets you anxious and even though you don’t have a boss that will yell at you, you don’t enjoy being late.

Then, as if he popped out of the concrete like a weed, a man pushes himself between you and the other person that was waiting in line in front of you.

Your heart races, your eyebrows knitting together, no way in hell are you going to allow someone to cut in line.

“Hey,” you call out. The man ignores you and you tap his shoulder, he turns sharply, his eyes glaring daggers. “You can’t cut in line,” you say defensively. “You need to move to the back of the line.”

“Look lady I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about I was always here.”

“Ummmm, no you weren’t,” your chest heaves, heat rising to your cheeks. You don’t like confrontation—you’d do it, but you’d hate it. Your legs are already shaking slightly. “I’ve been staring at the pink paint stain on that guy’s shoulder for about half an hour so I know what I’m talking about.”

He rolls his eyes, an ugly snarl taking shape, “Just leave it. I ain’t gonna budge. I have places to be.”

“And the rest of us don’t?” you snort, eyebrows raised. He shrugs, makes a face, and turns his back to you once again. It takes you everything not to stomp your foot like an angry bull.

You’ve had enough. You’re tired of the assholes of the word, you don’t care if you’re not allowed into the coffee shop ever again. Puffing up your chest, you open your mouth wide, ready to give this rude stranger a piece of your unfiltered mind.

“You know what—”

“Is that any way to treat a lady, moonshine?”

You turn towards the source of the voice. It’s a man you’ve never seen before. He’s rugged looking, the salt and pepper in his beard endearing. He has a deep crease between his brows, his brown eyes dark as he stares down at the rude stranger. You take in the sight of his broad shoulders, thick neck—your heart does a little flip. You don’t know why but you’re drawn to the man, he has a nice voice.

The man, however, isn’t as pleased as you.

“What’s it to you? She your girlfriend?”

You’re not but you kinda wish you were.

“Get in the back of the line, I saw you cut in front of her.”

The tension in the air is thick enough that you can cut it with a knife. You hold your breath, your lungs starting to burn as electricity crackles between the two men. Finally the asshole caves and sighs, going to the back of the line. You let out the breath you’ve been holding, your shoulders sagging with relief right after.

“Thank you,” you say, your gaze finding the kind strangers. “I was right about to blow my lid before you stepped in.”

He doesn’t answer and just continues to stare at you. Worry builds in your spine. Why isn’t he saying anything? His softened gaze flits across your face, taking in every detail before looking away. He pushes his hands down his pockets, looking almost boyish with the way he drops his gaze to the floor.

“Don’t mention it,” he mutters.

You raise an eyebrow. His voice still sounds familiar. Your curiosity getting the better of you, you shove the thoughts of familiarity into the back of your head and grace him with a wide smile. He blushes profusely, eyes slightly going wide, he takes a sharp inhale.

“How about I pay for your coffee. . . or whatever you’re buying?” you ask.

“You don’t have—”

“I insist!” you chirp, glad that the line is finally moving. You extend your hand with enthusiasm, which he accepts a bit tentatively. Your smile never wavering, you tell him your name and an emotion akin to guilt washes over his eyes. He releases your hand, lips a tight, frigid line. “Is something wrong?” you ask. “You don’t like the name?”

“N–No, it ain’t that,” he shifts from one leg to the other. You nearly look down, curious to see how tightly his jeans hug his muscular thighs. “I’m. . . Joel.”

The world around you falls into a complete silence. Joel. Joel. Something electric and searing shoots up your spine, your lashes fluttering. Your heart starts beating a mile a minute but you’re not sure why. The only thing you do know is that this is a significant moment. An important moment.

Your rake your brain for answers.

Why?

Why is it important? What piece are you missing to complete the puzzle?

His lips break into a soft smile, he gestures towards the counter with his head. “We’re up.”

“O-Oh, yeah,” you swallow, barely able to pull your gaze away from him. “Sorry.”

You tell the kind barista your order and she writes it down on both your cups happily. The two of you move away from the line to wait for your drinks; a black coffee for your mom, a caramel macchiato for you, and an iced quad espresso for Joel. You raise an eyebrow.

“I have a long day comin’,” he says with a small smile. “And I didn’t do much sleepin’ last night.”

Your mind immediately flashes you memories of last night. Legs spread wide with two dildos stretching you, JMiller really enjoys it when you test your limits. Your pulse pounding in your skull, you look down. “Don’t I know it.”

“You had a late night too?” there’s a teasing lilt to his tone. Your stomach churns and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. It looks like he’s about to say something else but the barista calls your name and both of you head towards the counter. He takes his death juice with a grateful smile, his demeanor more relaxed compared to when you introduced yourself.

“Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.”

Oh shit.

Shit shit shit shit.

It is him.

JMiller—J stands for Joel.

Fuck.

“You. . .” you begin, panic raising in your voice. “You’re. . .”

He nods, “I think we both know why I didn’t sleep much last night,” he extends his hand again. “Huge fan by the way. You’re great and this is awkward as hell.”

“It is,” you whisper. Still, you take his hand. “It is.”

“You’ve never had someone come up to you on the street before?” he asks, curious. “I would assume you get recognized a lot.”

“Not as much as you would think,” a cruel, humorless burst of laughter drops from your lips. “People don’t exactly want their partners to know they’re watching me. But if they’re alone yeah. . . sometimes they’ll say hi.”

Or they’ll ask inappropriate questions and be weird about it but he doesn’t have to know that.

Now that he’s mentioned you bumping into others, you’re not sure why it felt like the end of the world before. You feel embarrassed, flustered even, two emotions that a client shouldn’t be making you feel.

“Well,” he breaks the silence, moving his jaw as he opens the door for you. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Technically you bought it.”

“Right. . .”

The two of you are out in the street now, staring at each other, contemplating what to say. He scratches the back of his head, then his fingers move to rub at his jaw. Arousal gathers between your thighs, it’s not your fault, now that you know that it’s him, your body acts accordingly.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?”

You still for a moment before answering, “Yeah.”

He turns and leaves, you do the same, only in the opposite direction.

After learning your name, Joel completely abandoned his rule of you calling him 'sir', making you moan his actual name as frequently as he could. His name stuck to your tongue. It might as well have been tattooed under your bottom lip. He was possessive in the way he asked, in some instances even begging for you to say it—and you fucking loved it. You loved this sick claim he had towards you now that you two had officially met. You loved how much more eager he was to see you make a sticky mess between your thighs. You love how cock dumb he made you feel without actually being there to fuck you himself.

He even started doing his version of online aftercare. Mostly he would just talk, tell you about every-day things as you came down from your high. Or he would murmur a song. You never asked if he was a musician, he had a nice voice.

It’s the beginning of the session and you’re getting ready. He says he enjoys watching the preparation you do for him so you decided to start streaming five minutes earlier, allowing him to watch. You really need him today. You had a rough day with an order mix-up, and your mom isn’t the best at dealing with mishaps. He clears his throat, which draws your attention to him.

“Is something wrong?” you ask.

“No no, everythin’ is fine, sweetheart. I just. . .” he sighs. “I want to ask somethin’.”

“Ask away.”

“Can we—Would you want to—” he groans in frustration and you start grinning. His frustrated pout is adorable. All you want to do is smooth the crease between his brows with your thumb and give him a kiss.

“Joel Miller,” you tease, not missing the way his breath catches in your throat. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Oh god, you hope your intuition is right. If it isn’t this call is about to get really awkward.

He flushes, eyes dropping as he nods.

“Is that okay?”

This is highly unprofessional, “More than okay. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

His grin is infectious.

“Good,” he lets out a breath then settles back against the couch. “Now show me those pretty tits, honey.”

You can’t believe you’re actually in JMiller’s, aka Joel’s, home.

The date had gone better than you expected. He was kind, charming, and chivalrous which were all qualities you haven’t seen for a while. Ever since you started streaming you hadn’t been on many dates and frankly, after a while, you purposefully avoided them. It just felt like asking for drama that you had no intention of dealing with. But Joel wasn’t like that. He could be blunt, a bit grumpy, yet also kind. He had taken you to one of his favorite pubs. Beers accompanied by the best jalapeno poppers you ever had equated to one of the finest dates you’ve ever had.

He was a contractor, had a daughter in college, and a younger brother. His mother and father had passed a long time ago and ever since Sarah left, he’d been feeling lonely. He’d admitted shyly that that was the reason why he signed up on Ravish. He wanted company.

You found it incredibly charming.

As soon as Joel closes the door behind you two, you fall into each other’s arms. He kisses you with fervor, tongue slipping between your lips as he breathes you in at the same time. You feel him everywhere. Large hands squeezing your hips, waist, breasts—it’s intoxicating. You moan wantonly into his mouth, your lids falling when he sucks your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like beer and you’re pretty sure you do too.

Joel pushes you up against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs while you continue to chase his lips with an insatiable need. You can’t bear to be separated from him, not even for a second. He drags his lips down your neck, mouthing at your jugular, sharp teeth nipping the sensitive flesh. Your hips jerk to meet his and with a growl, he pins you back to the wall.

“Don’t,” he grunts. “I’ve been waitin’ so long for this honey, so fuckin’ long.”

Your lips curl, a challenge lingering in your eyes, “Show me then, big boy. Show me how bad you want to fuck your slut.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, gripping your chin harshly and pulling you in for another kiss. Your teeth clink together, he pulls back just as quick, the muscle in his jaw twitches. “Fuck,” he breathes out again. “You have quite the mouth on you, darlin’.”

You have no recollection of how the two of you clamored upstairs, stripping one another in a lustful haze. The time you realize you’re naked is when you feel the cool air of the room caressing your burning skin, he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses down between your breasts, fingers eagerly working your nipples as he forces you to walk back until your back of your knees hit the bed and you fall.

Not wanting to give in so easily, you wrap your fingers around his heavy cock. It juts angrily between his legs, answering your touch by drooling all over your palm, slickening your movements. You jerk him until he’s fully hard, his breathing heavy as he rolls his hips to meet the tightness of your fist. He sinks his teeth into your neck, the pain that blossoms coaxes a moan from you, your own wetness growing between your legs.

“I knew you’d be fucking big,” you whisper, tongue toying with his earlobe. “So huge—makes me wonder if I can take it. . .”

“I’ve seen you take bigger,” he groans, hips stuttering. A whimper drops from your lips, you want him, you want to feel him inside, want to feel his come dripping out later. You feel thick fingers spreading your soaked folds, he drags down a middle finger between them, licking himself into your mouth as he draws circles around your aching clit. “So wet for me,” he rasps. “Gonna make a mess in you, honey.”

You gasp, “P-Please.”

He lines himself against your entrance, teasing you, stretching you subtly with the bulbous head of his cock. Your head falls back and your back arches into him. He draws a hard nipple between his lips, closing them as he sucks. Heat rushes all over your body, arousal thick on your tongue. You clutch the sheets. He smiles as he pushes in, filling you inch by inch with a lax jaw and a dazed gaze.

He stops and waits for you to adjust to him. Joel’s forehead drops against yours, dampness growing between the skin. You feel his breath fanning your face, so warm. There’s a hint of pain, the type that makes you flutter around him. He feels it too. The way you tighten against him, your body begging for more. He obliges. Pushing further and further until his hips are flushed against yours. His jaw is clenched tight, his breathing heavy.

“Fuck you feel so good,” he presses fleeting kisses all over your face. It’s ticklish and if all your senses wasn’t narrowed in between your legs, you would’ve giggled.

Your body jerks as he pulls back, the pleasure you feel is instant and overwhelming. You’ve missed the feeling of actual flesh inside of you. Joel snaps his hips forward, locking your breath in your throat, with a moment of desperation you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. He fucks you in earnest. Every thrust desperate. Every thrust needy. He seems lost in you, whimpers, groans and grunts trembling in his throat and chest. You spread your legs wider, wanting more of him, wanting your cunt to take the shape of his cock.

“Harder—” you cry out. “Take it—Take what you want—”

Your arms fall limp, his body moving up and towering over yours. Joel grips your thighs tight before lifting them, he jackhammers into you, tugging and pulling at you like a brand new fucktoy. He splits you in half. The force of his movements making you scream. You don’t miss the way he grins wildly, dangerously. Something dark and haunting washing over his face.

Your eyes grow wide, your heart beating in your throat, making it hard to swallow. It happens all at once, you clench around him, arousal pouring between your legs in a way it never had before. The look, the cock, the man behind it all—everything combined pushing your mind into the deep stages of want and need. Your eyes roll back, your hands coming up to pinch your tight, tingling nipples. You sob his name, your voice hoarse as you beg him for more and more and more—

“W-Wait, darlin’ if you squeeze me like that I’ll—!”

A series of curses drops wildly and unintelligently from his lips. You feel him. The heat of his seed filling you to the brim, his cock throbs and twitches, spurting into you again and again. Your lips break into a satisfied smile. Instinctively, Joel pushes deeper, shoving your combined slick even deeper.

“Shit,” he says catching his breath. “I-I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I usually last. . . longer than that. I—”

You shush him and cup his cheek. You’re so pliant right now, floating happily in the air. You let out a sigh before willing your lips to move. Has talking always been this taxing?

“It’s okay Joel,” you slur your words, smiling lazily. “I take it as a compliment, that felt fucking good.”

“Yeah?” he sounds so innocent and hopeful that you can’t suppress your giggle. His eyes twinkle under the dimmed light. “Well, I’m glad you felt good, sweetheart but I’m not done yet.”

Your breath hitches when he pulls out, your brows furrow as a chill settles between your legs. You wanted him to stay inside longer. But you’re pleasantly surprised when he slides down your body, kissing every patch of skin before settling between your legs.

“Let’s see if you’re as sweet as you’ve been tellin’ me.”

He kisses your cunt, lips moving in tandem with your wet folds. He drags his tongue up between them, curling it as he takes himself into his mouth, tasting both of you at one. You go limp at the pressure of his tongue, your walls fluttering and squeezing for more. With a groan, he shoves his fingers, the wet sound makes your toes curl into the mattress. It’s like torture, a very pleasurable torture. You gasp when he pulls you flush against his face, the bridge of his nose bumping against your clit as he licks you clean.

Your build up is spontaneous. You feel it coming, the taste of your orgasm at the tip of your tongue. Joel curls his fingers, sucking your clit between his lips and gently nipping at it. You hips chases his mouth, his mustache chafing the tender skin. Your hands come to each side of his head, threading your trembling fingers through the soft locks, his fingers brush against an especially sensitive spot and you tug at his hair. His throat shakes with a groan. His eyes closing.

“Do it again,” he mutters. And you do. He starts moaning into your cunt, his hips, despite just spilling inside of you, rutting against the bed. Your nails bite into his scalp and he flicks his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The tension coiling in you finally snaps, your entire body locking up as you gush into his mouth. He gulps you down loudly, fingers still moving deep inside you. Your throat is dry as ou shout his name, hips stuttering helplessly, he pins you down with both hands, moving his head up and down as the fat strokes of his tongue becomes more wild.

When he’s finally done feasting, he pulls away with a wet mouth.

“Wow,” you murmur, curling into him when he lays beside you. “That was. . . wow.”

“You really had low expectations, huh?”

“Not low,” you grin. “But not that high either.”

“Well,” he says, guiding you so you’ll lay on his chest. “I’m glad to prove you wrong.”

You smile, heart fluttering.

“Me too.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction #hbo the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

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yourtoradorasextendedwarranty · 5 months ago

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Anti's, Twitter Freaks, and Tumblr crazies seem to have this weird itch where they believe any women under 5'6" is "a literal child". And this shit has annoyed me for forever now. What's more this conversation always comes up in regards to Loli in anime and tall men with short women IRL. So here's a poll. And then more context.

Long story short, or rather as short as I can get it. I'm getting sick and tired of the idea that age somehow doesn't matter but, physical appearance of age does somehow matter instead. Especially when it comes with the context of anime. And even then more so I get frustrated at the fact that I have to talk with anyone about what is appropriate and not appropriate IRL.

The fact of the matter is and will remain that just because a girl looks like an adult does not in any way imply that it is okay to sleep with her unless you are also underage. (And I only make that caveat, because I know I can't stop young people from screwing around with one another.) But, when I see people whining about anime specifically I often end up with people who are fans of Ryoko from Kill La Kill or Kitagawa from My Dress Up Darling. Both of whom are minors. And if you like that, then you do you. Because I understand that with anime as an aesthetic they do have a tendency to look older or younger depending on how the people writing the story wanted them to come out.

However, a lot of people have a frustrating little quirk where if it looks like a character is too short, to flat chested, or has no back-end or thighs to speak of, they assess that that character is supposed to either be or look like a child (Ignoring they treat REAL women like this). Which also ignores this fun issue:

Because let's talk age of consent shall we. Sure, it's not universal across every country but it's pretty close among first world ones. But people make a big deal of characters that short with no bust, seek out people that like that character, and will literally treat that person as if they've harmed kids IRL. Yet are seemingly NEVER angry over the abuse of real kids. What's more they will claim something is pedophilia online, THEN SHARE IT saying something like "OMFG LOOK AT THIS EPSTEIN TIER ABUSER!", and I'm sitting here like, "I don't care how old you are if you're an adult you need to be punched in the throat and if your a minor, you and your parents need to be punches in the throat". (My reasoning here is simple. If you think something is CP why would you then share it to more people rather than just report it)

Epstein abused and trafficked MANY young girls and possibly young boys to a lesser extent. A person that likes this goblin?

Isn't even close to Epstein. Because:

This is a drawing

This drawing is humanoid but doesn't look like an actual human

This character is probably older than you are

This character is a dragon

This character is FICTIONAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My point for asking ladies heights is because I'm really sick of people more or less going, "as long as you look old enough it's fine" while not realizing they literally just made the argument that age is just a number and so long as you look of age you should be allowed to be sexually abused.

#discourse #anime #discussion

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bookshelf-dust · 2 years ago

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healing

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 5,445

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of past trauma (starcourt), slight sexual innuendos??

a/n: hi! remember when i made you do a poll for my 1k celebration? and one bed with billy won? well this is that fic! i'm sorry it took so long to get here, but school was kicking the ever loving shit out of me. anyways, i really hope you like it. it's a little different than other fics i've written, but i think that's a good thing. just for context, this is post the end of season three, with billy and hopper being okay and jopper being in full swing. i think that's all i wanted to say. thanks again for 1k followers. that's still so wild to me. i love you. and billy loves you too <333

————

November 1985

“No.”

“What do you mean no? You just fought an interdimensional being, don’t you want a vacation?”

Lucas wipes both hands down his face, flopping down on the arm of the couch beside where Max sits with El between her knees, tying off one of the two braids she’s trying to make.

“Max, can you help me? Please?” Lucas has been arguing about this for fifteen minutes.

She rolls her eyes, but looks up from her work nonetheless. “Billy.”

The man in question crosses his arms, locking eyes with the redhead. “Maxine.”

Max finishes Eleven’s braid and she hops up to join Will where he’s working on a puzzle. Joyce brought it home from work a few days ago, and it’s been spread out on a card table in the corner of the living room since then. Will couldn’t watch The Golden Girls with Joyce from the kitchen table.

“Just come with us, Billy. We all know you hate it here. It’ll give you a chance to get away for a little while.”

Except that’s not totally the truth. He doesn’t hate it here. Not with you around.

“There’s a pool.” Will looks up, a little shyly, from the puzzle, fingers flipping around a single piece. “At the place Robin found.”

Billy nods, and it’s enough to make Will smile at the acknowledgment.

It’d been Steve’s idea, after everything that happened in July. He thought everyone going on a trip together might be a good idea. Go a little ways out from home, calm down.

You and Billy started going to school, though Billy is still working. He found a job at a record store across the street from Melvald’s that opened after the mall went to shit. It definitely wasn’t his first choice, but it works. And he’s slowly fixing up the Camaro.

Steve had offered to pay for the repairs in full, considering he did most of the damage when he rammed the side of it, but Billy couldn’t handle that. So far Max has only convinced him to let Steve cover the really expensive parts. It hurts Billy more than he’d care to admit—having Steve Harrington give him money.

But he can’t lie, going somewhere away from Hawkins, even just for a couple days, sounds really nice. It’s the group part that’s bothering him. He’s still not used to everyone wanting him to tag along, but apparently major trauma brings people together.

There’s the slamming of car doors, and footsteps running up the driveway before the door swings open, Robin bursting in with a stack of movies in her arms. She’s followed by Dustin and then Steve, bags and keys being tossed every which way.

Billy doesn’t see you for a moment and starts to worry maybe you aren’t coming. He’s already supplying excuses for having to go home, but Steve left the door ajar, and after a moment, there you are.

You look sleepy, footsteps the quietest of everyone else as you carefully push the Byers’ door shut behind you. He watches as you accept a hug from Eleven, overhears her ask, “how did your test go?”

He’s happy to hear you tell her it went well. It’s only after you’ve looked at her and Will’s puzzle and snapped a few more corner pieces in that you make a beeline for the open spot on the couch beside Billy.

When you’ve settled, your knee bumps against his. “Hey.”

He looks at you, a little grin playing at the corners of his mouth. His arms are still crossed, thumb playing with the pendant resting on his chest. A chest surprisingly covered by a sweater, though the sleeves are pushed up.

“Hey. Glad your test is over?”

That sound of his voice makes you smile, and he’s never been so grateful for something, even if it’s just an expression. “Yeah.”

You glance down at the new tattoo on his arm, a dark colored snake wrapping around the skin covering his elbow. You run your thumb across the tail that flicks across his forearm, and Billy relaxes into your touch.

“You have work today?”

Billy shakes his head. You’re glad he had the day off. And you’d tell him so if it weren’t for the sudden bombardment.

Lucas is suddenly standing in front of you, having returned from the kitchen where you think he and Dustin may have been cleaning out Joyce’s fridge.

“Holy shit, thank god you’re here. I need you to convince Billy to go on vacation.”

You glance at Max, assuming she’s already tried. She looks rather annoyed. “Lucas, would you sit down?”

The boy looks at Max, and she glares at him. Clearly he knows better and sits down next to her.

“Billy doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” you finally say.

The man in question turns to face you. You have to lean your head back some because of how close he is.

“Are you going?” he asks, voice quiet and thick with something you don’t know that you’re supposed to notice.

“Y-yeah. I was gonna. Robin only went on about it to me for an hour over the phone last night. I just think it might be nice to get away for a little while.” Billy doesn’t break eye contact with you, and while it makes you a little nervous, it tells you he’s listening.

“And I can watch Max for you if you really don’t want to go. Just make sure she doesn’t kill Lucas or anything.” Max snorts at your response, though Lucas looks at her in panic, already calculating how best to prevent that sort of situation.

Your gaze softens and you fight the urge to reach out and run your thumb across Billy’s cheek.

Please come with us. I want you to go. I want you there, you think. But it’s not what you say. You don’t know how badly he needs to hear it.

“You really don’t have to go, Billy. Not if you don’t want to.”

“But there is enough space, man.” Steve stands behind the couch, handing El a scrunchie he retrieved from her bag. His voice is calm, informative. “If you decide to go. There’s plenty of room, and we’d be happy if you did.”

Billy could make some smartass remark. But he won’t. He knows that Steve is being honest, and that he’s not trying to be a dick. It seems that witnessing the guy who beat the shit out of you almost die not even a year after he moved to town really brings you together.

Billy gives an acknowledging nod. “I’d be very happy if you did,” Eleven says. She loves having Jonathan as an older brother, really she does, but Billy lets her play with his hair. And in her books, that really ups the scale.

He smiles at her, and El considers that a win.

You notice him shift next to you, and then he’s leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Come with me?” He cocks his head in the direction of the door.

He gets up, assuming you’ll follow him. You always do.

When you’ve shut the door, you move to the porch swing. It’s your favorite spot out here, and Joyce says it makes her happy to see someone use it. She used to sit there with Will in the mornings after Jonathan left for school and read to him. She did the same with Jonathan, but he was a much more fidgety kid, wanting to find something else to do.

Billy lights a cigarette, and you watch where he fidgets with the ring on his middle finger.

He’s standing a little ways away from you so as to not breathe the smoke directly in your vicinity, but you wish so badly that he was closer. You like having him close. The weight of his body next to you, the warmth, how solid his arm feels when it’s pressed to yours or when he slides down on the couch some and it's more so pressed to your side.

“Which part of it are you worried about?” you ask him.

He shrugs. “You really think they want me there? You think Max wants me around?” “Billy, I know she does. And I know that voice in your head is telling you that it’s a pity invite, but it’s not. And, besides…” you trail off, but he’s not having that. He needs you to reassure him.

“Besides what?”

You look up at him. “I want you to go. And yeah, I’ll be sad if you don’t go, but that shouldn’t sway your decision either.” You push your feet against the concrete porch a little harder, and the swing responds to the movement. You move quicker, now feeling very pleased with yourself.

Billy almost laughs at the child-like look on your face, but you look so at home on the swing that he holds it in. A grin escapes nonetheless.

“Say that again.” He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray either Hopper or Joyce have left outside. He’s watching you again.

“What?” He’s not gonna let you go all shy on him now. He needed to hear that. He needs to hear it.

“You know what.”

“I want you to go.”

“Then it’s settled. Need to get out of this shithole anyways.”

————

The place Steve found is about two hours from Hawkins, with three bedrooms, a shockingly luxurious pull-out couch, and bigger common areas than you’ve ever laid eyes on. Excluding the ones in Steve’s house. In short, the rental is like Hopper’s cabin, if Hopper’s cabin were updated and substantially larger. It feels like the kind of place rich people have to take weekend trips. You’d rather not find out how much Steve is paying for the lot of you to stay there.

Robin takes you on a grand tour while everyone else explores the backyard. Dustin is already determined to climb a tree. One of the rooms has two sets of bunk beds, dedicated to the four boys. “To ensure no cootie-spreading,” Robin proclaims.

She and Steve will share the couch, with Max and Eleven in the smaller bedroom.

Robin stops at the end of the hallway. “Which leaves…”

You and Billy.

You and Billy Hargrove.

Sharing a room.

Sharing a bed.

Speaking of, the man in question brushes past you, setting his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. Robin takes that as her queue to leave and gives you a thumbs up on the way out. You hope she can feel your death stare on the back of her head, and she knows it, being quick to run down the hall.

“So we’re roomies, huh?” Billy says, gathering his hair at the base of his neck. You hadn’t even realized he had a tie on him, and it takes him finishing off a lazy bun to realize it’s a blue scrunchie. You have to bite your lip to keep from saying anything.

“I can sleep with Max and El, if you want. Or–”

That crease between Billy’s brows forms. “Why would you do that?”

You’ve gone all warm. You’d have to sleep in bed with him. And you sit next to him all the time, but this is different. Isn’t it?

Maybe it’s not so weird. You’re just friends. It’s like a sleepover, right?

“I don’t know, you might not want to sleep together or something.”

He cocks a brow, but you catch the double meaning of your words just in time. “You know what I mean, Billy.”

He sits on the end of the bed, and reaches out for you. You move towards him slowly, but the moment you’re within his grasp, Billy spreads his legs and grabs your waist, slotting your body between them.

“You can go if you really want to. If you think I’ve got cooties or somethin’ and you don’t wanna share a bed with me.”

You snort, and Billy drinks in the sound, knowing he’s the one that made you laugh.

“I don’t think you’ve got cooties.”

You realize in that moment that his hands haven’t left their spot on your waist, never straying anywhere else. The weight of them on you is enough to keep you focused on him, and he seems to acknowledge that.

“Then what is it?” he asks, in that low drawl you fear could get out any answer he wanted from you.

You hesitate, but say it anyway. “You don’t think it’ll be weird? Sleeping in the same bed?”

Billy fights the urge to rest his forehead against your stomach. He wants to tell you he’s wished you were in his bed on more than one occasion. Sometimes he just wishes you were there so it wouldn’t feel so cold, so he’d have someone to pull him out of his thoughts before they eat him alive altogether.

“No, I don’t think it’ll be weird.”

You nod your head, and try to move back from him.

Billy whines. “Uh uh. Nope.”

You go to put your hands on your hips, and they graze Billy’s on the way. He grabs hold of them. “You don’t want to have a sleepover with me?”

Billy’s looking up at you with those watery blue eyes, and you know this is a battle you’ll never win.

“Really?”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, and your eyes fall to his neck when he tosses his head back.

“Yeah, baby.”

Baby.

It feels like every cell in your body has been sent into overdrive, like you can’t compute a single coherent thought. All because Billy called you “baby”.

And if he’s being honest with himself, he feels the same way. He hadn’t meant to say it. It’s just that he calls you “baby” in his head all the time, and it just…happened.

“I’d love to have a sleepover with you, Hargrove.”

“Mhm. Thought so.”

This time he lets the laugh out, and it’s a beautiful sound. The kind of sound you’d commit unspeakable acts to hear again. And this time, he does let his forehead drop to rest on your stomach. It surprises you, but you’re not mad about it.

“Oh, fuck off,” you say, and you can feel his chuckle against your skin.

When he quits, you find yourself just standing there, find your hands moving around his back. He’s always so warm. You rub your hands up and down his back, the denim of his jacket rough on your fingertips.

You feel him shift, feel his change in position, the hard press of his chin against you. Billy is looking up at you, and you know he’s hoping you’ll return his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, and you hate to think of what you must look like from this angle. Clearly he doesn’t mind.

You push a curl behind his ear, a shockingly perfect ringlet that’s too short to be contained like the rest of them.

Billy would be taken aback by the gesture if it weren’t for the fact that you always go this easy on him. Like you know he’s healing, in more ways than one.

“We can’t stay here forever, you know. I wanna go look around.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I’m sure it’s riveting.” He lets you go anyway, following you down the hall to the rest of the cabin.

————

Your back rests on the base of an oversized chair, one that’s surprisingly comfy, your body in between Robin’s legs. She’s sitting next to Steve, watching you moderate El, Lucas, and Will play Twister. Dustin’s already out.

“Right hand blue.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Sinclair, have you never played this game before?”

Lucas scoffs, trying to reach the blue on the other side of the mat without toppling into Will. Max went with Billy to the store, but they should be back soon. You have a sick feeling they’re taking advantage of having been given Steve’s debit card.

“Yes, I’ve played the game before. If you’re so good, why don’t you get down here and show us how it’s done, Harrington?”

“Yeah, Harrington, why don’t you show us how flexible you are?” Billy’s voice makes you look up from where you’ve been mindlessly twisting the spinner on the board around with the tip of your finger.

He stands just inside the living room, holding the door open with his leg. He kicks it shut once Max has made it in. She heaves the paper bags she’d been holding up and onto the counter. Steve rises to help unpack them. You follow on instinct, handing the spinner to Robin instead, and Dustin is quick to take Steve’s spot before Mike can.

Billy won’t let you take anything from him, but he will let you help figure out what the hell to do with all of it. “Do I even want to know how much you both spent?” you ask.

He gives you that fucking smile, and you know you don’t. “Max said she wanted to have a spa night–whatever that means–with El, so we sort of split up. I’m sure Steve’ll live.”

“For your information, Lucas,” Steve continues, clearly not ready to let the quips towards his limberness go, “I was the captain of the swim team.”

“What’s that got to do with being flexible, dingus?” Robin directs the two remaining players, the young boy in question having just busted his ass.

“Swimming is an art form, Rob. You gotta learn to respect it.”

You choke on a laugh, and Billy is quick to rub your back while he chuckles into your shoulder.

“Something funny over there?” Steve questions.

You straighten, trying to wipe the smile from your face though it’s to no avail. “Nope, Steven. I’m sure you’re just incredibly stretchy. Like Mr. Fantastic.”

His brow furrows. “Mr. Fantastic?”

Dustin snorts, elbow deep in a bag of chips, and you quickly realize that you probably shouldn’t have given him an opening, but you don’t exactly regret it either.

The lot of you spend the rest of the night in this fashion, playing games, eating way too much food, taking turns smacking the top of the television so your movie will keep playing.

It feels like home. It feels safe. You wish it always felt this way.

————

You’d just finished brushing your teeth when you hear the bedroom door click shut, hear footsteps you can tell are in search of you.

You peek your head out of the bathroom and Billy grins at the sight of you in pajamas, a smear of moisturizer on your forehead you’ve yet to rub in.

He squeezes in the small room, about the same size as his at home, to join you. There’s something about this moment, the domesticity of it, that makes your heart swell. It feels like something you could get used to, getting ready for bed with him. Neither of you have to say anything, you just do your own thing, but having him be there, having his presence–it’s more than enough for you.

When you climb into bed, you try and read for a while, the sounds of Billy washing his face comforting you. You find it easy to read even when he does get in with you, the mattress sinking underneath his weight, the sheets rustling as he moves around experimentally, trying to get comfortable in a bed that isn’t his own.

You feel odd though, reading when he’s right there, so it isn’t long before you close the book and slide further into the covers with him. Billy’s quick to turn on his side, wanting to see you like this.

He watches you yank the blankets up to your chin, looking at him over a blur of fluffy white comforter. “It’s fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” you tell him.

“C’mere then.”

You burrow further into your pillow, fearing you know exactly what he’s going to suggest. “Huh?”

“You’re cold. You always whine about me being warm or somethin’ and I’m telling you to come here.”

“Billy.”

“Stop.” He lifts the covers up some, untucking you from them, and he wraps his arm around your back, tugging you into his side.

Suddenly you’re pressed against him, having slid across the sheets easier than you’d have imagined.

He’s let go of you, his arm hovering over your back. “You want me to hold you or no?”

“Yeah.”

Billy lets his arm drop against your side, his fingers splaying out over your back. He rubs his hand up and down your spine, hoping it’ll warm you up. “This okay?”

“Yes.”

He nods. You’re looking at him like he’s something special.

Billy realizes, in that moment, that that’s how you’ve always looked at him. Even before.

He also realizes that your hands are tucked under your chin and your legs are curled up and into you like you’re afraid of making any contact with him.

“You can loosen up, you know. It’s just me.”

You let out a breath of a laugh, and he can feel it against the skin of his neck.

“It’s okay, I promise. You can touch me.” Billy has this feeling that you’re afraid of hurting him. He’s sure you’ve noticed that he’s wearing a shirt to bed, something he never did before. And he thinks that you’re worried he’ll break.

“You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”

He watches you unfold your hands and stretch your arm over him, hooking it around his hip. You want to rub up and down his side, but you’re nervous.

It’s just me.

“Do they hurt at all?”

Your thumb skates up a little further, and you don’t have to tell him what you mean.

“Not all the time,” he says, voice low and thick with drowsiness. “At first, yeah, like hell. Now it’s just sometimes. They can feel a little tight, or just bug me. Depends, I guess.”

You nod, feeling brave enough now to slide your hand up a little further. Your touch is light, barely there. You close your eyes, trying not to think about when it happened. How he’d screamed.

He can tell when you’ve calmed down some, because your arm relaxes and you hug him a little more firmly. You scoot in a little closer, close enough that your noses would touch if you tried to make them.

“Goodnight, Billy.”

He makes the move, dragging the tip of his nose across your forehead. He kisses the top of your head, and you grin so wide you feel like a kid in a candy shop.

“Goodnight, baby.”

————

When you wake up, you almost don’t want to disturb him, but you know you should get out of bed.

Billy is sprawled out on his stomach, having separated from you at some point during the night. His tank top is rucked up from the tossing and turning of sleep, and you look away when you catch a glimpse of pink skin. It doesn’t feel like your place to look.

You wander out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind you. You make it down the hall, and find that Robin seems to be the only other one awake. You should’ve guessed. She told you once before that her body doesn’t seem to let her sleep in.

Steve is still passed out on the pull-out couch, completely covered by the blankets. The only sign of him is a tuft of messy hair against the light colored pillow case his head rests on.

Robin waves at you from her perch at the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal in front of her. “Want some?” she whispers, pushing the box in your direction.

You fill up your own bowl, having a feeling that Robin is about to ramble.

“Sleep okay?” she asks.

“Mhm. You?”

“Fine. Though, y’know, Steve is a horrific bed hog. Seriously, he was half on top of me the whole night. I might have to bunk with Max and El.”

You laugh, and Robin takes that as her queue to ask what she’s been pondering since she woke up.

“Was it okay? Sleeping with Billy? Well, not like that. Well, I’m assuming not like that, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I just meant like actually sleeping? Please stop me.”

You grin at her. “Please breathe, Rob.” She does, over exaggerating her inhales. “And it was fine.”

“Okay, good. I was kind of worried you’d be frustrated with my matchmaking tendencies. I just really want you two to be happy. And he seems so calm when he’s with you, and I realize I’ve just told you that I’ve been pushing you two together and I–”

You wipe milk from your chin, having almost spit out your cereal. “Robin, sweetheart, it’s okay, I promise. I know about your matchmaking tendencies. But I think we’re just friends, right?”

“Just friends, my ass.” You hadn’t even seen Steve get up, but he’s reaching for the fridge and pulling out a carton of chocolate milk. He really can’t say anything about Dustin’s eating habits when he has the exact same diet.

“Oh my god.”

“Listen, I’m just saying, there’s been something going on between you two since before the world went to shit. I don’t know why you two tiptoe around each other like it’s not obvious that you’re in love.”

“Steve!” you exclaim. “Seriously, what the hell? I’ve been up for like twenty minutes and you two are schooling me on my love life?”

“Or lack thereof,” Robin says.

“Okay, damn. You know what, I’m going back to bed.”

Steve pushes your bowl back towards you when you attempt to get up. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying, there’s no sense in avoiding this. You both clearly feel a lot for each other, and I don’t see any reason to avoid it when you could be together.”

He’s being vulnerable with you, his big brown eyes boring into yours and trying to convey how serious he’s being.

“Just think about it, okay? There’s no harm in talking about how you feel with him. And don’t say that you don’t feel anything, because that’s a goddamn lie.”

————

Billy’s had his swim trunks on all day, but he hasn’t done more than sit in the shade by the pool while everyone else makes a mess and plays ridiculous games in the water.

It’s killing him to watch you in there from time to time, swimming around or sitting in the shallow end. You told him once that swimming calms you down.

It’s not until after dinner, when everyone has moved inside for the most part, though there seems to be the plotting of a water balloon fight out front, that he’s brave enough to head for the pool.

You follow him out there, see him contemplating the water.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Billy drops the cigarette he’d been smoking, snubbing it out. “Thought about going for a swim,” he tells you.

“That sounds nice.”

“Mhm.”

“I can go back inside, if you want.”

Billy turns to face you. “No. No, I want you to stay.” He wants you to see. He can’t explain why, but he does.

“Okay.”

He takes a shaky breath, hoping you don’t catch it. You do. You always do.

“I just…wasn’t ready for everyone to see.”

“I understand, Billy.”

You know what he’s really saying. He wasn’t ready for everyone to see. But he’s ready for you to see.

“I can get in first, if that helps. And I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” you say.

“That helps, yeah. And you can look. It’s okay.”

He watches you wade in, watches the way your swimsuit changes color as you tread water.

Billy takes another deep breath, and he’s pulling his shirt off. He’s quick though, diving straight into the deep end, knowing he needs to get it over with.

When he comes up, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and he flips it out of the way, giving you a glimpse of the broad pink scar on his chest.

He meets you halfway, and you think he’s in a serious mood until he’s splashing you like a child.

“You motherfucker!”

You get him back, and he’s laughing.

Billy is laughing and he looks so pretty in the last of the day’s sunlight, beads of water sliding over his collarbones and down his arms, and you feel like you could die. Like seeing him this way is enough. You don’t need anything else.

You try to return a particularly aggressive splash, but he catches your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder.

“Billy!”

“What?” His voice is teasing. He tosses the rest of the way over, your laughter fading out into the water.

You come up, a brilliant smile on his face. Billy’s sure if you stood close enough you’d be able to hear his heart beating.

When you’ve both gone quiet, your eyes drop to the scars on his sides, the way they stretch across his skin, mean and twisting. Some spots are darker than others, and while it hurts you to look at them, you know it must hurt him even more. But he looks just as beautiful as before, if not increasingly so.

“See something you like?” Billy says it on instinct. To hide the fact that he’s worried you don’t really like it. That maybe you think he’s gross looking. But he knows that’s all in his head. He fucking knows it.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Billy Hargrove.”

You say it with such surety, such admiration, that he can’t even begin to doubt that you mean it.

He smiles at you. It’s boyish. You’d do anything to see a million more of them.

He moves towards you, the sky having darkened enough that the outside lights have come on, the lights in the pool too. All that remains of the sun is a slash of deep orange, though the night quickly pushes it away.

Billy’s got you backed up against the wall of the pool now. His hands find your sides.

It’s overwhelming, having him this close. You can feel his breath on your face, see the rise and fall of his chest, the freckles on his cheeks.

When he kisses you, you think your heart stops. His mouth is warm against yours, and he tastes a little like chlorine, but you don’t care. Your hands find his face, and you’re smiling so hard that he pulls away because he wants to see. You don’t let him for long though, pulling him back, wanting more. He laughs into your mouth, and your chest aches with this feeling.

Eventually you do let go, and when you hold his eye contact, he knows what you’re going to say. He needs to tell you first, though.

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” you respond.

He tosses his head back in a laugh, and you press a sweet kiss to his throat.

“I’m in love with you too, Billy.”

“Damn right you are.”

You snort against his chest, lowering slightly to kiss his scar. His breath catches. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you.

“About fucking time!” Steve’s shouting and Robin is yelling, and Max would be making barf sounds if she wasn’t so pleased with seeing her brother so happy.

“So much for that,” Billy says.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

————

“I’m regretting this, Billy.”

“Stop whining.”

Billy wraps his arms tighter around your back, pressing a kiss to your jaw in hopes that you’ll let him keep doing this.

“Get off.”

“No.”

“Get off, please.”

“Make me.”

There’s the sound of a slap, your hand having met his ass.

He raises his head from where he’d buried it in your chest, looking at you drowsily. “You just spanked me.”

And you’d do it again.

“Didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Shut up and take it.”

By that he means continue letting him lay on top of you, his entire body pressed to yours. It doesn’t matter to him that there’s an entire bed, one that’s made for two people.

You settle for playing with his hair, something he seems to enjoy, and you’d mess with him about the fact that he’s essentially purring if it weren’t for him looking so content.

He might be heavy, but having Billy Hargrove sleep on top of you isn’t exactly something you just give up.

He’s never had this before.

Hell, you’ve never had this before.

And he thinks it’s healing him. More than the salve he puts on his scars, or the physical therapy, or fixing up the Camaro.

You’re healing him. You.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

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markscherz · 5 months ago

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Can I ask how you feel about your Tumblr fame?

I get the impression you just made this account for normal casual funsies reasons, but it kinda blew up by happenstance. If that's right, I'm curious if now you feel like it's kind of a more serious thing, where you have an opportunity to sorta act as a science communicator with a reach you otherwise might not?

Or maybe something else? You gonna see if you can somehow leverage your Tumblr fame to get research funding? Deputize us to harass polluters and developers destroying habitats? Crowdsource name ideas for new species?

It's a bit bizarre, in that it has very little real-world-ness to it. I showed my mother the ongoing tumblr celebrity poll, and she was like 'how many people could possibly be interested in frogs?', to which I replied 'well as of today about 46,000 and counting'.

I have always had an unhealthy relationship with fame. I spent most of my teen and young adult life fawning after it, as is I suppose very often the case.

More after the cut…

I always really wanted to be famous, but I was never really interested in changing who I was or what I represented in that pursuit. That is to say, I wanted to be known for what I was already doing, or for things that were already interesting for me, rather than things that might have much higher chances of success but require more effort or be less in line with the things that I am interested in.

I had my first brush with virality in 2012, when a poem I wrote went a little viral (largely thanks to StumbleUpon). I remember the rush of seeing how much attention it was getting, and staying up late to keep refreshing the page as the visitor numbers went up and up and up.

But not long after that, I had some closer encounters with fame and people becoming famous. That was extremely eye-opening. I witnessed first hand how strongly that can affect someone's life, for good and for bad. That experience also made me realise, quite jarringly, that famous people are still just people; that celebrity is something extrinsic to them; that they also wipe their own butts (if they are able); and that in many cases, it is a substantial inconvenience if not downright pain in the ass for them. I think this is why we see so many of the big celebrities having mental health crises or trying to live as much of their lives out of the public eye as possible.

That experience pretty much stifled my desire to achieve fame, and really changed my relationship with it. I should add that I could say much more on this topic, but nothing so coherent or insightful as John and Hank Green, who have given me so much clarity on this topic over the years through their thoughtful commentary on youtube and their podcasts.

Anyway, in spite of the fact that fame itself doesn't really appeal to me anymore, I do still have a problem wherein I quickly became addicted to the microdosing of euphoria associated with every reblog and like and follow. So I put huge efforts into social media in order to try to gain traction in the space that I felt I could really compete in—Very Niche SciComm™—and build up a following.

Tumblr was the first platform where I felt that really succeed; I managed to fight my way to a few thousand followers with a thick queue of regular posts about herpetology and other science. At that time, there was a great community building up in the rudimentary private messaging system—I am still friends with several other tumblr bloggers from that era (none of whom I have ever met in person). From that early time (2013), I think my most successful post was probably this one about germination of 32,000 year old seeds—a post that, as of today, has 836 notes, but at the time felt huge and exhilarating.

As I went through gradschool, I got more and more active on twitter, and less and less active on tumblr (by the time I wound down, I had about 8,000 followers on tumblr). This was partly because of the pornbot takeover on tumblr, which meant I basically could not go on the platform in public or at work, but also because the audience and interactions are just fundamentally different. Twitter had a different kind of vibe and energy than tumblr, and there were real SciComm experts there, who were doing it just completely differently. More importantly, I became more focussed on doing outreach aimed at colleagues, rather than non-experts.

Then, in 2017, I hit headlines for the first time. The description of Geckolepis megalepis made it big on social and traditional media, and I had my first experience with real media attention. I had a flurry of late-night phone-calls with journalists in the US. This was a different animal altogether than the few viral posts I had had until that point. It was extremely stressful, but exhilarating. Then in 2018, our chameleon fluorescence story made similar headlines, and in 2019 the Mini frogs, and in 2021 with gecko fluorescence and the smallest chameleon.

Seeing my name on the BBC News website and in the New York Times and National Geographic—those things have been the most surreal moments of near-fame I have experienced so far. The number of followers on social media is quite difficult to conceptualise, but seeing your own name in a media outlet that you consume regularly, or have grown up with, is more palpable.

In any case, I continued to run with twitter as my main platform for years, because I found the interaction with colleagues and other academics highly stimulating. In 2021, I even posted a twitter thread about a different species of frog from Madagascar every day for the full year. All this work was ultimately greeted with mediocre success; I just crested over 10,000 followers a few months before the Musth takeover. But then the platform became basically unusable. And in the fallout, I came back to tumblr, where, just by chance, I happened to find a post about the Mini frogs and reply to it and it went properly viral and now here we are. In the space of a year, I went from having 8000 followers to having >46,000.

How do I feel about that? It's bonkers. I think it is great that so many people are interested in hearing the Good News about frogs and other creatures. But I also feel like I am not really on the same playing field as most of the others in that poll mentioned above, in that I do not have any of the celebrity that several others have. And I know for a fact that there are fanblogs with far, far larger followings than I have. But perhaps that is the great thing about tumblr; that the playing field is somehow levelled…

What's the point of this ramble? Well, first I guess it is to outline that I have given fame a lot of thought over the years, and I have a long-standing and complicated relationship with it, and take it quite seriously. Second, to illustrate that I have been working on as a science communicator or person in outreach for many years—it has kind of been my social media brand since I started gradschool in 2013. And third, to kind of outline how we got here, because I often feel like you have to know where an arrow has come from in order to figure out which direction it will continue to fly.

You asked if I would somehow try to leverage my tumblr fame to get research funding—I already do that. In fact, my social media activity had a signfiicant role in landing me my current job, and will continue to help me achieve tenure. Outreach is an important part of my job, and funders like it too.

I would love to have the community-building power and tenacity of the brothers Green; Nerdfighteria has achieved some incredible things over the years, and the power of that community is now being seen at an unprecedented scale in their battle for equitable access for tuberculosis diagnosis and treatment. But I do not have that in me; this platform is the wrong one for community activation, and my community is still too small for that. Moreover, it is not organised or structured, in the way that I think effective deputisation would require.

As for the crowdsourcing of name ideas, that is currently off the table. I like to try to name things on my own or with my colleauges; it is a very good part of the process. And I have yet to hear a suggestion for a Mini species epithet that I had not already come up with myself, so I am not convinced that this would really augment the experience.

So for now, I hope that the main way I use the platform, and the power that comes with a few thousand followers, will be to spread the Good News about frogs and other wonderful animals, and the other kinds of science happening around us (and occasional other off-topic content). I hope that you are encouraged to explore the world around you, and to do your own reading to find out more about the subjects that interest you. And also I will continue to try to make meme-worthy content, because it does nice, if addictive, things in my brain when I get the clicks.

Thanks for asking, anon, and sorry for the Wall of Text.

#fame #famous people #celebrity #about me #science #herpetology #wall of text #long post #personal #answers by Mark #anon #anonymous

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anticapitalistclown · 4 months ago

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what about giving lookism men the remote of a vibrator 👀 especially with jake

omg sure (made a poll and Gun and Goo were the most voted)

Giving Jake, Gun and Goo the remote of your vibrator, smut scenario

Jake

Giving your boyfriend the remote of your vibrator was a spicy idea that fueled the tease he is.

Jake is more of the private type so he only takes use of it in the privacy of home.

You were seated on his lap, hugging his broad shoulders whimpering on his ear, Jake had you seated pretty on his lap, his hands grabbing your hips, his lips kissing your neck and shoulders, on his right hand was the control of your vibrator he pressured the max "good girl *kiss* keep making those sounds *kiss*" you hugged him tighter, and your whimpering turned into moans, your hips moved up and down grinding against his lap "oh you're close?" he grabbed your chin and kissed your lips you nodded at him "let me see that pretty face" you looked pleading at him "so pretty" he chuckled, you were feeling the climax approaching "I'm cumming!" and the vibrator stopped, your face changed completely and your head fell on his shoulder, you bit on his shoulder "c'mon Jakee" you cried but he left a chuckle, Jake broke your orgasm for the third time "m'sorry pretty" he laughed and started the remote to the max, you saw his hand palming his bulge "c'mon grind on it again, this time I won't pause I promise".

Gun

You really want him to take the remote of your vibrator? He's gonna make sure you can't use panties for the next week from the overstimulation

He doesn't care using on public he indeed will do it occasionally but he prefers using it at home so he can see your fucked up expression

Gun had you handcuffed, your hands and feet restrained between them, your face down and your ass up in bed, displayed for him, in your pussy the vibrator that was abusing your clit and hole, a view your boyfriend loved, your legs were trembling, and you were feeling the different vibrations he was selecting, your face was tear stained while you heard him chuckle "aah what a view, my angel" he upgraded the vibrations making you whimper "you like it?" he palmed his bulge and took a sip of his whiskey "c'mon give me another one" you denied with your head and cried "you're a big girl show me you can do it" he slapped your ass, the vibrations were changing again making you close to another orgasm "that's it, cum pretty for me baby".

Goo

when you gave him the remote he already knew what it was about, you had him on his knees promising you he's gonna wife you up, you were made for him.

he's obsessed on teasing you, even in public, meetings, gatherings, in private, when you're having sex, whatever and whenever, he loves to be in charge with the toys.

Today was supposed to be a relaxing day, watching a movie he wanted to show you a while ago, but here you are sitting on his lap, your back resting on his strong chest and his legs parting yours, the vibrator inside of you and the remote on his hand "tell me pretty, what is happening in the movie now?" he kissed your ear "they are making a club" you whimpered making him sadistically smile "and what are the rules of the fight club?" he increased the vibrations "Goo!" you moaned causing him to stop "c'mon!" you whined, his hands caressed your legs "it's easy baby" he kissed your cheek, and you sighed "first rule, you do not talk about fight club and second rule, you do not talk-" he increased to the max "Goo! you do not talk about the fight club!" you moaned "good girl, yeah that's it my beautiful princess, now focus more on the film, okay?".

#lookism #jake kim #kim gimyung #park gun #park jonggun #kim goo #kim joongoo #kim joon goo #park jong gun #lookism x reader

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hitomisuzuya · 9 months ago

Text

Stepcest. Sexting Part two. DNI if it makes you uncomfortable. Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Sexting. Degradation. Praise. Cunnilingus. Hinted vaginal and anal sex.

Sexting part two won the poll by like a lot lol. This is also a late White Day piece. Scara's texts and bold and italicized.

Scaramouche was restlessly laying in wait in his room. There was a social gathering going on for the company "the Moms" work for. There were too damn many people in the house still.

He was going to wait a bit until he could get his hands on you tonight. But, that didn't mean he couldn't wind you up a little bit first. He was surprised when you texted him first.

Happy White Day.

Usually, you were too shy to text him first. He could just imagine your little fingers nervously hovering over the keys as you mustered up the courage to type just those three words and hit send.

Huh?

And now you could practically hear the scoff in the text.

On Valentine's Day, the girls give the boys gifts and chocolates. And on White Day, the boys reciprocate.

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow. He could definitely tell you were hinting at something. He had a feeling he knew what you were going to ask. And he was curious if you actually would ask.

Chocolates are disgusting. Something you what to ask me, kitten?

Your cheeks heated at the pet name that always flustered you. Scaramouche knew exactly what he was doing. You felt the nervous pitter patter of your heart as you typed a response.

Well I..what would get me for White Day?

Scaramouche smirked. He could imagine the shy blush on your cheeks. Did you have any idea how delicate you looked when you blushed?

I wouldn't get you chocolates. Instead, I'm going to spread your legs wide, and tease your pussy outside of your underwear. Until you are so wet that I have peel your panties from your cunt.

He wanted to wind you up fast. The needier and weaker you were for him, the better. It would make you more pliable.

I would slowly lick and lap my tongue on your cunt until your pussy is drooling more. I would tell you what a slut you look and sound like, moaning while you fuck your pussy onto your step brother's mouth.

Your panties were getting wetter with every word you read. You shifted your position restlessly on the bed, wanting to reach into your panties to rub your throbbing clit.

Will you call me a good girl if I press your mouth onto my cunt while I beg to cum?

Scaramouche really hoped everyone would get the fuck out of the house because he was starting to get really hard. You were already submitting to him and he hadn't he even tongue fucked you into oblivion yet.

You'll do more than beg. You'll cry and plead to cum, slut. Even after I have made you cum and squirt on my tongue. You'll sob with pleasure when I latch my lips onto your clit, my tongue prodding, licking and swirling until you cum shaking and clenching around nothing, my good, sweet girl

You rubbed your thighs together. It was getting hard for you to concentrate on anything other than how much wanted to feel his mouth working your pussy over. You reached down to touch your clit outside of your panties for a moment before another text came.

You are touching yourself, aren't you? What a filthy slut my step sister is. Touching yourself because you can't wait to have your step brother's tongue fucking into your cunt. Perhaps I'll use all of your holes as my personal cock sleeves tonight.

Your response was exactly what Scaramouche always craved from you.

Let me sneak into your room now, please. I want you so badly.

No. I'll come to you in a few minutes. I want you only in your panties when I get there. You'll keep your hand over your mouth like a good girl until everyone leaves, won't you?

You left your bedroom door open a little so that the hinges wouldn't creak when he opened it.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #tw stepcest #modern au #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

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lilasamaaa · 7 months ago

Text

The night we met | Lando Norris x Reader

Genre | Fluff.

Word count | 2.6K

Warnings | None for once! Enjoy some peace.....

Summary | When Reader's best friend sets her up on a blind date with one of her long-time friends, she expects anything but the evening she's about to experience.

Author's note | This piece is the result of yesterday's poll! Another poll will be coming soon for y'all to decide what's next :)

"I'm really not sure if it's a good idea, Alice," she sighs, looking over at the bed where her friend is seated, behind her.

"What makes you say that?" Alice replies, arching an eyebrow.

"I have a list of reasons, actually," she states, pulling out her phone.

"You and your damn lists!"

"I know you hate them, but they help me clear my mind," she says, clicking on a note.

"Alright, let's hear your reasons then," Alice laughs. "But I'm warning you, I'm going to dismantle them one by one."

"Okay," she starts. "Reason one is : I don't know him."

"That's kinda... the whole point of blind dates," her friend says, rolling her eyes.

"Well, you agreed to this. I did not. You know how anxious I get when I don't know people," she says, head low.

"Lando is a really nice guy," Alice says, coming close to her friend and stroking her hair. "I just know he'll put you at ease right away."

She takes a few seconds to think, biting the inside of her cheek. It's not the first time she's about to go on a date with someone she's never met before. Even though she doesn't know him, she's not really worried about Lando. She's more concerned about herself, to be honest. She's not a model of eloquence, doesn't consider herself particularly pretty. She's sure her date will do his best. What she's not sure about, is if she'll be able to overcome her own anxiety about the whole situation.

"Reason two, then," she says, focusing back on the note. "I don't know a thing about racing. What are we even going to talk about?"

"Well, something else. I'm sure Lando would be delighted to talk about something other than work for once," Alice replies, winking.

She wasn't lying, she thinks. She really has an answer for everything.

"Shoot me with reason three, baby," Alice says, letting out a laugh.

"Reason three," she replies, eyeing her friend. "Let's say I don't fuck up, which would be a miracle in itself, and we hit it off. How am I supposed to maintain a long-distance relationship? We're not talking about Brighton or Cambridge, we're talking about another continent. Several times a year."

"Well, I'm glad you're thinking so much ahead," Alice replies, earning a frustrated grunt from her friend. "There'll be plenty of people who are in the same situation as you. You can always ask for advice from other WAGS," she concludes, laughing.

"You're insufferable."

"Was there a fourth reason to debunk, or are we done here?" Alice asks.

"There is, actually. That's the last one," she says, staring at her phone. "Every time I've gone on a date like this, without having seen the guy... They were never really... to my taste," she begins. "So I've never kissed them, never went any further. But if I like him, what am I supposed to do?"

"What's the real question?"

"Am I supposed to kiss him on the first date? I don't want him to think I'm easy. Is it better to play hard to get and..."

"Wow, you're overthinking this," Alice says, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't have any answer to give you. Just... Go with the flow. And if you're not sure about what to do, let him take the lead. Okay?"

An hour later, she's walking through the streets of Bristol, trying to calm her breathing, her thoughts, her already racing heart. She's checked the address Lando had sent her about ten times before leaving Alice's apartment. On principle, she takes out her phone, checking one last time. Her phone indicates that the restaurant is less than a minute's walk away, at the corner of the street she's on. There's still time to turn back, she thinks, before gathering herself. No. He doesn't deserve that.

In front of the restaurant, she casts a quick glance inside, checking if he's already there, before remembering that she doesn't even know what he looks like. Well, she has a vague idea. She's seen pictures on Alice's Facebook and Instagram over the years, but his precise features escape her. She remembers curly hair, beauty spots. Not much more. She's not sure if she would recognize him in a crowd.

She pushes the door and slips inside the buzzing restaurant, politely greeting the waitress who welcomes her.

"I have a reservation for two," she says. "The name's Norris."

"Ah yes, he's already here, in the second room. I'll take you to him," the waitress replies, flashing a smile.

Her heart stops. He's already here? She deliberately arrived fifteen minutes early to have time to settle down quietly, to gather herself. To wash her hands if they're too sweaty. This was not how it was supposed to go at all, she thinks, feeling the anxiety rise.

The waitress guides her through the tables to the small room at the back of the restaurant. On the way, her brain disconnects, giving way to total panic. I knew it was a bad idea, she tells herself, biting her lip. I'm going to make a fool of myself. The waitress suddenly stops, saying something that her brain doesn't comprehend before walking away and she looks up, meeting his gaze.

Oh, wow, she thinks, eyes widening. That man is too handsome for his own good.

"Hey, it's nice to meet you" he says, extending a bouquet of white tulips to her. "Alice said those were your favorites."

She smiles, taking the bouquet before burying her nose in it. Alice, you little sneak.

"Thank you so much," she replies, feeling her cheeks flush. "They're stunning."

Lando pulls out her chair before sitting back down, not taking his eyes off her. Feeling his gaze on her, she dives intensely into reading the menu. Or rather, she pretends to, because she's not even reading, just trying to avoid the attention the driver is giving her.

"You seem nervous," he states, still looking at her.

Feeling her cheeks turn red, she holds her menu higher in front of her face, hiding a little more. "Hey," he says, putting his finger on the menu to lower it. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just really bad at this," she replies, finally looking at him. "Dates, conversations, one-on-ones. It's not about you, I swear."

There we go, she thinks, head low. We've been sitting for ten minutes and I've already messed everything up.

"Would you like to go somewhere else?" he asks, and she looks up, furrowing her brows.

"What?"

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, that wasn't the intention," he says. "A romantic dinner may be a bit much for a first date. So, if you want to go somewhere else, do something else, it's not a problem."

"But... We're already sitting," she says, confused.

"It's no big deal," he replies, shrugging. "The restaurant is packed, they won't go bankrupt because we leave. We can just tell them we don't like anything on the menu."

She lets out a laugh, covering her mouth, astonished by the driver's suggestion.

"If you could go anywhere, a place where you feel comfortable and safe, where would you go?" he asks, his big eyes detailing her.

She thinks for a moment, looking upwards, biting her lip again.

"If we really had no limits... I'd go to the sea," she replies, thoughtful.

"Let's go then," Lando says, rising up and taking his jacket.

"What? Lando, we can't do that," she says, still sitting. "The good beaches are like, an hour drive away."

But Lando has already circled the table, jacket in hand, extending his hand to her.

"My car's parked outside," he replies.

She doesn't understand what's happening, so for once, she sets aside her brain and listens to her heart, grasping his hand and allowing him to guide her towards the restaurant's exit, the driver only stopping to explain briefly to the very understanding waitress that an emergency has come up and they have to leave, carefully slipping several bills in her hand as a tip - and as compensation.

Outside, Lando leads her to his car, their hands still intertwined, her heels clicking on the cobblestones. He opens the door for her and she slips inside, her heart racing.

"I've never done anything like this in my entire life," she says, staring straight ahead.

"You should never force yourself to do something you don't want to do, though," he replies, looking through the rear window to reverse, leaning indirectly towards her. His scent reaches her nose and she can't help but look at him closely, detailing every detail of his profile. His clear eyes. His beauty spots that remind her of constellations. The curly lock of hair that crosses his forehead.

"Does Ogmore work for you?" he asks, snapping her out of her reverie.

"Ogmore's perfect," she replies, eyes glistening.

They set off, and as the English countryside landscape passes by through the window, she notices that for the first time since she left Alice's apartment, she isn't feeling anxious. Her heart still beats just as fast, sure, but she suspects it's not really because of stress anymore. Lando rummages between their seats and eventually pulls out a cable, which he hands to her.

"I don't mind driving, but you're the DJ," he says, laughing. "Put on some music. Let me know who you are."

She grabs the cable before connecting it to her phone, scrolling through her Spotify playlist. So you want to know who I am, huh? she thinks, blushing again, before clicking on her favorite song.

The first notes of "I'm Outta Time" by Oasis resonate in the car, and Lando shoots her a surprised look.

"I actually love that song," he says, smirking. "What does it tell about you?"

"Well," she starts. "As you must be starting to suspect, I strongly identify with the idea that the sea is the only place that manages to calm me down, where I truly feel free."

"I'm with you on that one," he replies.

"And then... It's quite personal, but to me, the song's about someone who's lonely. Someone seeking comfort, a pillar, someone who can support them through everything. But also someone they'd be willing to let go out of love."

Lando turns his head towards her, and she gets lost in the softness and understanding reflected in his eyes. The song comes to an end, and she clicks on "On Melancholy Hill" by Gorillaz.

"I promise I'm not depressed," she says, meeting his gaze, while he lets out a laugh.

"This one's talking about the sea, again," he states.

"There's that," she says. "And there's this dreamy feeling. It's about frustration, about pressuring yourself to achieve big things, when maybe..." she stops for a second. "Maybe just being with your person is enough. Maybe there's no need for more," she finishes, looking out the window, troubled by the feeling of having said too much.

"I get it," he says, still looking at the road ahead.

"You do?" she asks.

"Of course. I'm not the last one to have dreams and goals, as you can imagine. But at the end of the day, when all that's over, what's left? What do you turn to?"

The rest of the journey goes on in the same way. She plays a song, explains why she likes it, what it makes her feel, what it reminds her of. Lando listens attentively, interweaving her narrative with his own anecdotes, sharing his thoughts, his fears. That's much more intimate than a restaurant, she thinks. But somehow, she doesn't mind.

Forty minutes later, a sign indicates that Ogmore is the next exit, and Lando turns onto the narrow road, which soon becomes a path. They leave the car in a parking lot, where only a few cars are parked before embarking on the sandy trail. Before them, the sun has begun to set, tinting the sky with orange, pink, and violet hues.

"Just in time," Lando says before plopping down on the sand. She sits beside him, closing her eyes. Absorbing the healing sound of the waves.

"Thank you so much for this, Lando. You have no idea how much it means to me," she says, feeling emotional.

They both lie there, side by side, without saying a word, lulled by the sound of the waves.

"Do you remember the night we met?" Lando suddenly asks, looking at the sky and the stars that the onset of night begins to reveal.

"What do you mean?" she asks, turning on her side to look at him.

"It was last year," Lando starts, as she furrows her brows, completely lost.

"I'm not sure I understand," she replies, confused. "I've seen you in pictures... But this is the first time we meet."

"Alice's birthday, in London," the driver specifies, and she dives into her thoughts, trying to rewind time. "You were wearing a black dress. Backless."

"I... I remember the birthday, and the dress," she begins. "But I don't remember you. Well, I remember Alice saying you had something come up," she continues, lost.

"I had a work function, couldn't get away. But I still stopped by, dropped off Alice's gift," he explains.

"I'm sorry, Lando," she says, embarrassed. "I don't remember seeing you."

"We crossed paths in one of the hallways of the bar. You were leaning against a wall, talking to someone... Jeff? Greg?" he says, closing his eyes as if trying to remember.

"Jeff? My boyfriend at the time?"

"Yes, that was him. You two were arguing about something, I can't remember what. The tone started to escalate, and you walked off towards the restroom."

"I remember that."

"I found myself in front of Jeff, and I told him, "You shouldn't argue with a pretty girl like that. She deserves better". He told me to fuck off, to mind my business, and left," he recalls, laughing.

"Wow, I had no idea," she says. "Him and I broke up like, four months after that anyway."

"I know. Alice told me."

"Why would she tell you that? It must not be of much interest to you."

"I'd mentioned to her that I found you beautiful. In fact, to be honest, I think I said you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen," the driver says. "So one morning, she texted me. Said something like... "She broke up with Jeff. Time to grow a pair."

"Wow," she says, laughing in shock. "I didn’t know that."

Silence falls. Neither speaks for several seconds. He, wondering if he's said too much. Her, wondering what she should conclude from the driver's words.

"So..." she starts. "When Alice told me that she had planned a blind date..."

"It was my idea," he says, meeting her eyes. "But we couldn't say that."

"Oh, my god," she says, laughing again. "I can't believe you two."

A particularly turbulent wave crashes at their feet, making them yelp and quickly stand up. They're suddenly face to face. Wrapped in a heavy silence. One that cannot last.

"So you did, then," she finally says.

"What?"

"You grew a pair," she replies as he bursts out laughing.

"You're not angry at me, are you?" he asks, taking a step forward.

"I'm... quite surprised, I won't lie. But I'm not angry, no. I've never had a first date like this," she confesses. "I've never felt so listened to, so understood... In so little time. It started off badly, and yet you... you made me feel like I could be myself."

"You can," Lando says, taking her hand. "That's all I want."

"Will you think I'm moving too fast if I kiss you?" she suddenly asks.

"No," he says, coming closer until their breaths meet. "I won't."

#f1 #f1 2024 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #mclaren f1 #mclaren

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neptuneiris · 18 days ago

Text

could you pretend to be in love? (10/10)

The Realization

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: prom is coming and so is the end of a stage in your life. surprises and unexpected conversations take place, the question is, are you able to forgive in order to move on?

word count: 9.7k

previous part • series masterlist

this is not a drill, it's really happening!

first of all, i want to apologize for having left this story aside without finishing it. it wasn't something i decided, the writer's block precisely in this fic made me not try anymore for a while, mostly to clear my mind and my ideas, because i had no idea what to write after chapter nine 💀

so I hope you really forgive me and enjoy the last chapter 🥺 it has been an honor to have given you this little fic, I really enjoyed writing it despite the little mental breakdowns I had haha

and just like my other stories, I keep it in my heart and it will always be here for whenever you want to reread (I will make sure to post it in AO3, don't worry) i'm also thinking of doing a poll about the epilogue where you guys will decide if you want one or prefer this ending. let me know after you finish reading the chapter 🤗

enjoy and I look forward to your comments!

It still all feels like a bad dream that you can't wake up from. An unwanted dream. A nightmare.

And every time a new day comes, you feel like a human being who does everything in automatic mode, not because you really want to.

In front of your dad you must pretend that everything is fine, but as soon as you leave home and get to school, you feel a huge weight and a sadness that nothing and no one can take away from you.

You feel the stares of some people on you, if not all of them. But the truth is that you feel so emotionally drained that you don't even pay attention to them.

Many would say that not being accepted to a college doesn't mean it's the end of the world. Nor does it mean that your chances are over because there is still too much time to be able to do everything you want.

And you accept that they are right. All is not lost because you didn't get accepted.

When you were rejected the first time when you applied in conjunction with the scholarship, disillusionment sets in. There is disappointment in yourself for not being enough and there is this question that constantly floats in your mind; why others do and I don't? Why am I not worthy of the same fate as them?

Maybe it's age, but it's inevitable to feel that rejection and failure after having so many plans and having in mind the idea of making your dad proud by telling him that you've been accepted to college.

And not just any college, but Citadel.

But so far, you haven't had the courage to tell him instead that you won't go to any college. You just can't. You don't know what exactly you'll tell him and you don't want to face it yet. You don't want to see his disappointed face so you need more time.

So instead of dreams and aspirations, as well as preparing to live a college life, you prepare and focus on getting a job. You don't see employment as a bad thing either. You just wish you didn't have to focus on it right now.

You haven't talked to Aemond either. You haven't even seen him.

You're in some classes together. But you barely pay attention. Even though you used to notice his presence before and now, unconsciously, you ignore it. Now your mind is too busy with your worries.

It's like being in a disconnect. You are just there, existing. But you barely talk, barely react and barely do. You just want classes to end soon so you can go home.

Of course, he hasn't stopped trying.

He wants to talk to you, but you won't let him. You just don't want to have anything to do with him anymore. Even though you feel that emptiness he has left, you immediately force yourself not to think about it.

It's like pain and confusion mixed together, but your pride and that same pain makes you prefer to stay away.

You don't even care anymore what people say about him and you. It's obvious that the two of you are no longer in a 'relationship'. No one knows what happened and neither one of you is clarifying anything.

Which you are grateful for, so as not to feed the topic in the whole school.

Meanwhile, Alysanne and Cregan are almost always around you, trying to cheer you up and make you endure school better. You couldn't be more grateful for both of them either.

"So what are your plans for the weekend?"

Alysanne asks as the three of you are sitting on a bench in the outside courtyard. On the bench where you and Aemond made the fake relationship contract, precisely. But you try not to focus on that as the three of you eat lunch.

"We're going to the movies, did you forget already?" asks Cregan, confused.

"Huh? This weekend?"

"You forgot," he assures her.

"I didn't forget!" she lies, nervous.

"We agreed to go on Saturday. To the ten o'clock function for the horror movie."

Oh yes, the two of them are dating. Just as you and Aemond have 'broken up', so you try not to feel more distressed about it.

"Do you want to come, Y/N?"

You raise your gaze to Alysanne, confused, who gives you a smile.

"It's a date, isn't it? Just the two of you."

"We'll have more dates," she makes a nonchalant gesture.

Poor Cregan.

"Besides, it would do you good to clear your head a bit. So, what better than going to the movies? Right, Cregan?"

"Yeah, it'll do you good," he nods.

"No, thank you," you say softly, "I don't want to interfere with your dates. Besides, I'm not in the mood to go out. I'd rather stay home."

"You're not going to interfere with anything. Besides, you've stayed home enough days," she reproaches you, "Come on. Even one night. We'll have a great time."

"If you don't want to go to the movies, we can go somewhere else," Cregan proposes.

You grimace slightly.

"No, thank you. I..." you sigh, "I really appreciate it, guys. But I'd rather stay home."

Staying home to look for a proper job and plan to tell your dad you won't be going to college, like you've been doing for the past few days.

"Are you sure?" Alysanne looks at you not entirely convinced.

"Yeah," you shrug, "Don't worry about me."

"Of course I worry about you."

"You should focus on your date," you say as you give Cregan a meaningful look.

"Totally," Cregan nods, "In fact, she'll plan the next date."

"What?" she looks at him in horror.

"What you heard."

"And why me?"

"Because I always do."

Your talk with them doesn't last long as soon the bell rings and they head off to their respective classes, except for you, who has a free hour.

So you stand on the bench alone, just looking outside and nothing else, enjoying your lunch unhurriedly and in peace and quiet.

You let out a long breath and distract yourself for a few moments in your social networks, watching as some people post their reactions from when they were accepted to colleges. Everyone screams, smiles and cries of happiness with their families.

Except for others who quietly show how they were not accepted. But they open more emails and get accepted to other colleges.

You wish you were part of them.

You close those apps and go to Tiktok to distract yourself for a while by watching funny videos or storytimes.

When suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching behind you, which catches your attention. You turn your head, peeking over your shoulder and then you see him, Aemond.

He stops as soon as your eyes look directly into his, as if you've caught him in the act of robbery. Which reveals how very cautious he was being to approach and not scare you.

You see the uncertainty in his gaze, the insecurity and the wariness all at the same time. Which is rare for him, as he doesn't allow himself to look so vulnerable. But you understand why he's this way with you.

First you think about getting up and leaving him with the word in his mouth, like you've been doing lately. But for some reason, it's like finally your mind resigns and your body will force you to stay where you're sitting. And you don't even know why.

Or maybe it's because he's begging you with his gaze not to leave and listen to what he has to say after so many weeks.

Inevitably your nerves invade you and neither he nor you say anything for a few long seconds. He just stands still, as if testing the waters, waiting to see if you will move away from him again attentively.

Then he swallows hard and watches you with a sad but hopeful expression.

“Can I come closer?”

You press your lips together, think about it for a few seconds and finally give him a barely visible nod.

You turn your gaze to the front and begin to put your tupper with food in your backpack. While at the same time Aemond approaches you, cautious but firm. And surprised that you are allowing him to do this.

You let out a long breath and bring a hand to your hair, nervous, not knowing why.

Then he steps in front of you and only at that moment, you realize he has a folder in his hand. A folder that he sets down on the table in front of you, with smooth, cautious movements.

“I just came to drop this off for you. Nothing else.”

You raise your gaze to look at it confused for a moment, then look back down at the folder in front of you.

“It's the paperwork you need to submit to finalize the scholarship process,” he says softly, “Classes start in two months and by now you should have received an email from the university with all the information as an incoming student.”

Wait, what?

Your mind immediately questions, as you frown more and feel your heart start to beat too fast.

“What are you talking about?” you ask in a low murmur, not understanding.

And Aemond lets out a long breath.

“I'm keeping my promise.”

His words echo steadily in your mind.

And you dare to raise your gaze to him again, confused, serious and incredulous. And what he does is lower his gaze, sorrowful and unsure. However… he is firm with what he is saying.

Then a tingle begins to run through your hands, at the same time as you feel the nervousness sweep through your body like a wave. You part your lips as you look at the folder in front of you and with trembling hands, you pick it up and open it.

The first thing you see is the university logo and an overwhelming sensation sweeps over your body and mind as you see what appears to be a letter addressed to you.

Miss. Y/N Y/L/N, Faculty of Law. Official documentation for the scholarship process.

You feel the air you were holding in your lungs slowly leave your mouth. And a huge weight that you felt in your chest is lifted, allowing you to rest and breathe properly.

At first, you think your mind is playing a joke on you. You think he's doing it. But… this is real. More real than you can imagine.

“I know I didn't do things the right way…

Aemond begins to speak, noticing the mix of shock and confusion in your gaze, breathing hard through your mouth.

“I know I took you for granted and that I hurt you,” he says softly, “But that was never my intention, Y/N. I-I… I thought I would get everything under control. That I would work it out and get everything done on time. But, it's just… I don't even have justification.”

You feel tears begin to form in your eyes. But you control yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to let his words make you break down in tears.

As if the fact that you have in front of you one of the papers confirming and assuring you that you will finally go to the college of your dreams isn't enough.

“I should have acted sooner and looked for solutions. I should have been honest with you from the beginning. And you don't know how sorry I am,” he says softly and vulnerably, his gaze lowered, ”I also don't expect you to forgive me for keeping a promise and asking for forgiveness. I know I fucked up and things can never go back to the way they were. But I just want you to know…” he takes a moment, "That I really did fall in love with you."

Fuck.

“What I felt for you was real. It was never a game or a pretense. I was just… afraid,” he admits, ”Afraid of fucking up what we had. Afraid it would all fall apart if I told you the truth. But… I ruined everything,” he says with a resigned tone, ”You don't have to talk to me again either if you don't want to. You don't owe me anything. I just wanted to tell you the truth and let you know how sorry I am.”

Each word echoes in your mind, with the weight of his regret and his sincerity. You feel the tremble in your body, not helping the fact that you are still staring at the college sheet addressed to your name.

And you hold back, trying to calm the chaos being unleashed inside you by his words.

When he doesn't say anything else, you certainly won't and you both fall silent for a moment, as the weight of his words and the meaning of them fill the space. Until he speaks again.

“I won't bother you anymore,” he moves forward a bit back to the way he came, “Best of luck at Citadel. You deserve it, you really do,” he tells you with a small smile that is sad but genuine at the same time.

Then his figure disappears from your field of vision and you hear him start to walk away. And at that moment, the world seems to stop for you.

Unable to help yourself, you turn your head and watch him walk away with tears in your eyes. There is something in his walk, in that slight slope of his shoulders, that screams the burden he carries. And you don't know why, but… you want to call him, to tell him something that will ease the knot you both feel.

However, you know that won't fix anything.

You feel the air leave you, his words still echoing in your mind. You stare at the folder again, trying to remember what this achievement meant to you before this moment, before he came and stirred all the emotions in you.

You try to be strong, you try not to let this affect you more than it should, you think of the positive. But you can't.

So still in disbelief, excitement, sadness and with all your emotions mixed up, you take your phone, unlock it and open your emails app. And there, your most recent email, you read: Citadel University.

With your hands shaking, you press the email and read in slightly larger letters: Welcome to Citadel University! Miss Y/N, Y/L/N. Faculty of Law, Registration number: 31982.

Then, finally, you can't hold back the tears any longer and you put a hand to your mouth, letting them out, with confused and intense feelings coming over you.

Your father's loving and proud words, hugs and kisses make you smile.

It took you four days to finally break the news to him. And seeing him so happy, excited and proud, made you finally stop feeling so bad for even a moment. You also broke the news to Alysanne and Cregan, who were very happy for you.

Neither of them mentioned Aemond, which you appreciated. But there is the clear acknowledgement to him for making this possible.

You obviously left the job search behind and instead started contacting the university. You sent the missing and necessary documents, they sent you information about the scholarship, your schedule, classes and also about your dorm.

It's like finally this void in your chest is being filled as you finally see this all happening. And as you look at the pictures of the university, with old, elegant and modern architecture at the same time, that excitement rises in you.

However, what you feel is not happiness in its entirety.

In fact, you feel in the middle of a crossroads; joy is mixed with sadness. And the satisfaction of fulfilling the dream feels incomplete.

The worst part is that you know why.

But you don't think about it too much either. You don't want to. On the contrary, you force yourself to repeat over and over again that this was the plan all along. You force yourself to enjoy it and get excited.

You force yourself to think that what happened outside of getting into the college of your dreams was for a reason, but in the end you got what you really wanted.

But, deep down inside, you think about how you wish things could have been different.

At the same time, prom is just around the corner.

At first, you thought about not attending, but of course, Alysanne wouldn't let you think about it anymore. She dragged you with her to the dress store and sentenced that it will be a date of three, her, Cregan and you.

You tried to persuade her, to make her understand that Cregan only wants her as his date. But, of course, Cregan as the great friend he also is, told you it would be fun.

Certainly neither he nor you nor Alysanne have ever been on a three-way date and he told you; what better than to try it at the prom?

The prom preparations are done. Now the important thing is to turn in final projects and get rid of all the pending with the professors.

And that's what you're doing now.

With your headphones on and a notebook along with a book on your table, you're about to finish a long, boring project. When you notice how a figure suddenly obscures your workspace and you raise your gaze almost instantly, curious.

Helaena.

You remove your headphones, surprised to see her as she smiles softly at you.

“Hi,” you say to her in a soft tone, putting your project aside for a moment.

“Hi,” she says to you in the same soft tone, ”I… am I interrupting you?”

“Oh no,” you say nonchalantly, “I mean, yes, but I'm just about to finish it anyway. Don't worry.”

She looks at you a little unsure.

“Are you sure? It's just… I don't know,“ she shrugs, 'It's been a while since we last talked and I didn't know if I could come up to you.”

Again you ignore the small sharp pain in your chest at the memory of Aemond and try to look like you're not at all affected by having his sister in front of you.

“Yeah, well…” you try to smile a little, ”Things have been… intense lately.”

She nods as she takes a seat across from you.

“So it's official?” she asks you with a sad tone as she watches you with a sad little smile, “Like, I mean… you and my brother aren't coming back together?”

This time, the sharp pain in your chest is stronger and more persistent. As well as her question hits you like a wave.

How can you tell her that, in reality, everything you and Aemond had was false? That it was all part of an agreement?

The guilt begins to consume you as you see her face full of expectations and the worst thing is that it's not something you should tell her. That should be Aemond. But, still, you feel the urge to cry and you feel the need to finally tell her the truth, for the sake of everyone who made you believe the fake relationship.

“Helaena…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, ”I-I… need to be honest with you.”

You take a breath, expecting the worst and imagining a series of difficult emotions to deal with.

“This whole thing between Aemond and I… it was fake,” you speak fearfully and sorrowfully, ”We were just… pretending for our own convenience. It wasn't…” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment heavily, ”It wasn't real.”

You expected surprise, indignation, incredulity, anger, and more, all at the same time. But to your greatest surprise and bewilderment, she doesn't seem remotely surprised. Instead, she just smiles softly at you, full of understanding, as if she's been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“I already knew that,” she tells you in a serene tone that disarms you.

You feel your lungs hold all your air and you watch her completely stunned, surprised and confused with your parted lips. Then you blink, processing her words.

“What?”

“Aemond told me everything the moment you set up your rules,” she replies calmly, “The truth is, he never hides anything from me. He can't. So I already knew what you both were doing from the beginning.”

You continue to watch her in shock and disbelief, unable to believe it, trying to understand how she could have kept this to herself so naturally.

And in that moment, with disbelief and surprise beating in your chest, you realize that in every single conversation you had with her, right here at school, at parties, even at that family dinner that ended in disaster thanks to Aegon's drunkenness… she had always known.

“Though I don't always approve of his decisions, I understood why he did it… and why you did too.”

But your mind is still short-circuiting, processing and comprehending.

You relive in your mind every moment you went out of your way to pretend, believing you were fooling everyone, especially her. And yet, there's Helaena, looking at you with an expression of calm and empathy that completely disarms you.

“So you knew?” you are able to formulate in asking in a breathy whisper.

She nods, smiling softly.

“Easy, only I knew.“

“And you're not upset?” you ask confused, still waiting for some sign of reproach.

“Not at all. On the contrary, I'm relieved,” she tells you honestly, ”People made fun of Aemond after Alys. And, well, that left a mark on him. You know what rumors are like here.”

“Oh, believe me I do.”

“And they made him miserable. It also didn't help at all that Alys was his first girlfriend and his first formal relationship but the two of them didn't love each other, it was just obsession and whim,” she says absurdly, "And with you, at least, he got some peace back, even if it was temporary."

“But then…” you look at her blankly, “Why did you ask me if we'll get back together?”

Helaena sighs, her gaze soft but intense.

“Because in the end the two of you really fell in love. I saw you at Dragonstone and it was… too obvious.”

You remain silent, remembering those moments.

Both of you walking through those historical corridors, seeing and learning absolutely everything about old Valyria. Both holding hands, fascinated in the aquarium watching everything around or walking together on the shore of the beach, laughing, exchanging glances, hugging and kissing every now and then that everything felt too sincere to be pretending.

You relived every moment and every detail that you wished you could go back to when everything was fine.

Aemond had been different with you those days, a side of him that you had never seen and had thought only existed because of his performance in the fake relationship you had both agreed to.

But even you, being there, without the pressure to pretend, you felt the barriers fall between the two of you, because it was all real.

“He fell in love with you, Y/N,” Helaena tells you sincerely, “You… you did too?”

You feel a lump form in your throat and you let the question float in the air for a moment. The answer is so clear in your mind that it hurts; and yet, saying it out loud feels like breaking a promise you had made to protect yourself.

“Yes, I did too,” you admit, sadness settling in your chest, "But…" you take a deep breath, watching her, ”What happened with Floris even though it was a mistake… and then, the fact that he didn't tell me the truth about Citadel, it really hurt me.”

Helaena nods softly, not judging you, simply listening to you. And when she speaks, her tone is so serene and understanding that it comforts you.

“My brother has this amazing ability to do things in the worst possible way,” she says with a small resigned smile, ”Floris was a mistake. He was drunk and well, he told me that before that both of you have had a disagreement, although that doesn't justify it, I know. I'm just saying, it really was a mistake.”

Your mind momentarily flashes back to that moment, when you tried to end the fake relationship after the family dinner thing.

“And as for the Citadel thing…” she pauses, searching for the right words, “He freaked out, Y/N. He didn't know how to tell you without ruining everything. And I know that doesn't justify it either, but…” she sighs, ”He was going to do whatever it took to hold up his part of the contract. He just didn't count on our grandfather suddenly getting difficult. Our family is already so fucked up as it is, that was the last thing he expected.”

Her words suddenly make you feel interested and curious about a specific topic you hadn't remembered until now. But Helaena continues to speak and you listen to her.

“Even though his method was disastrous, in his mind, he was protecting you,” she says, ”Again, I'm not justifying it. But I know he was desperate to get you that place at Citadel no matter what because he knew you deserved it. And…” she smiles at you with a gesture of resignation, "I think he loves you enough to do stupidly risky things. Even go against grandfather and act behind his back knowing how much trouble he could get into.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and feel a knot of emotions form in your chest. Everything she's telling you opens a door to feelings you'd tried to repress, to thoughts you'd rather bury.

You take a deep breath, remembering again those days at Dragonstone.

You relive every moment, when words were redundant and the silence between the two of you felt so full of meaning. He was always watching you in a way that seemed to say everything and nothing at the same time. He was slowly revealing that vulnerable part of himself that he seemed to have lost after Alys.

But as much as you want to think straight, your thoughts are a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the pain of it all consumes you but on the other, there's the certainty of how you feel about him.

Even when you're hurting, you know you can't ignore it.

“I know he's still waiting, deep down, for maybe…” Helaena pauses, “Maybe there's a chance for both of you.”

The expression on her face is so sincere and tender that you find it impossible not to believe her, and the thought fills you with a mixture of relief and pain. Because, despite everything, you still love him, and that truth is impossible to deny.

“I don't know,” you confess, biting your lips and feeling your eyes water, ”I-I…I don't know what to do. I mean, we're already graduating. We'll go to the same college but I doubt we'll see each other, you know? And I just… n-no… I don't know….

“Hey, hey,” Helaena tells you instantly, ”It's okay. We don't have to talk about this anymore. I didn't want to overwhelm you or burden you, I just wanted to tell you my opinion and for you to talk to someone in case you needed to,” she tells you softly, comfortingly, ”Still, it's something between the two of you and we can talk about anything else.”

You thank her with a relieved look, her gesture of empathy appearing as she watches you with her soft, understanding expression. And then, she speaks with a more casual tone, changing the subject with a lightness that relieves you a bit.

“You have everything ready for graduation? Are you bringing a date?”

“Hum… yes, I already have everything ready,” you nod, ”And no, I'll go with my two friends. I think you met them, Alysanne and Cregan.”

“Oh yes! I know them,” she says with a smile, ”And I'm going with a friend too. I don't really like the idea of everything being so formal, so going with a friend will make it all more fun.”

Both are silent for a few moments, and although the conversation has taken on a lighter tone, you feel there's still a question trapped in your chest. And at the memory of that day, an impulse prompts you to speak before you can stop yourself.

“Helaena,” you call her softly, "I… can I ask you something?" you ask almost in a whisper, lowering your gaze a little, hesitating.

She watches you curiously and nods without hesitation.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hum…” you stir in your seat, “That night, at dinner, Aegon said something… about your dad not caring about you. What did he mean by that?”

She immediately looks like she wasn't expecting that question at all, which immediately makes you regret it, but then she softens her whole gaze, not looking at all uncomfortable or upset.

“Oh, well… our dad…” she begins to speak, choosing her words precisely, “Well, he was always very neglectful with us. He always left all the work to mom to take care of us, even when she had to work too so she wasn't totally dependent on him,” she explains, ”It was chaos for a long time. Aegon and I lost years of education because of his lack of commitment.”

“Really?” you look at her attentively and surprised.

“He missed the date to register us for kindergarten in our proper time. He always forgot our birthdays or some important date. But, of course, that never happened to him with our older stepsister, Rhaenyra.”

You remember Aemond mentioning her, though not much.

“And you don't talk to her?”

“Yes, of course,” she says with a small smile, “She was never at blame. In fact, by comparison, she always took us into account and never forgot our existence,” she explains, ”And well, eventually mom divorced him. And the only good thing dad did in the end was to mention us and give us parts of his inheritance in his will.”

Helaena's sincerity and calmness in sharing this about her life surprises you and, at the same time, makes you understand the complicated family history behind them. Now it's no wonder why Aegon was so angry to bring up the subject of parents.

Nor do you ignore the connection you begin to feel towards them, obviously because of your mother and her abandonment.

“It must have been very difficult, for everyone,” you murmur, ”I'm sorry to hear that.”

She nods, though her expression doesn't reflect bitterness, but something akin to mature acceptance.

“Yes, but that made us strong,” she says with a slight smile, "Aegon was the one who resented his absence the most, as you could see," she tells you knowingly, ”You know, being the eldest and all. But we're more… happy now, now that he's gone,” she confesses.

You let out a long breath, watching her with compassion.

“Thank you for telling me. I didn't mean to intrude, really.”

“No, it's fine, it really doesn't affect me,” she assures you softly, ”After that Aegon scene at dinner, it's valid you know. So don't worry.”

You both smile softly at each other, expressions warm and sincere, falling silent. When Helaena stands up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Well…” she says, letting out a slight sigh, adjusting her backpack, ”I should be going now. I also have projects to finish.”

“Sure,” you nod, ”Thanks for coming and talking to me.”

“Oh, there's nothing to thank you for. Anytime. I'll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

You both say goodbye and you watch her walk away in the direction of the main building, her silver hair shining in the sunlight, as you let out a long breath and put your headphones back in.

Prom.

You really don't understand what you're doing here. But it's all Alysanne's doing, like the makeup, hairstyle and dress.

You get out of Cregan's car with a beautiful lilac metallic dress on. Finding it wasn't hard at all, since it was like love at first sight, especially since it has a princess cut. And upon measuring it, Alysanne also decided that it was the one.

The hairstyle was also easy, after all, you didn't want anything too voluminous or too fancy. So a wavy style in your hair with a crown of silver flowers at the crown of your head was the perfect touch.

Alysanne on the other hand chose a beautiful wine colored dress that flatters her at every angle, deciding to gather her hair with two strands falling on either side of her face, making her look absolutely elegant and gorgeous.

And once all three of you are ready, Cregan dressed in an impeccable dark suit, offers you both his arms and you enter the grand ballroom of the luxurious hotel together.

The ballroom is illuminated by the typical disco balls hanging from the high ceiling, casting silver and white sparkles that create an almost magical atmosphere.

The decor is elegant and subtle, with centerpieces of fresh flowers and candles giving each table a touch of romantic charm.

You feel a mixture of nerves and excitement as you enter, as if it's all part of a dream. After all, it is your prom and tonight symbolizes a chapter you are about to close, your high school years.

The dance floor is in the center, surrounded by tables in a circle and already some of the guests have started to dance, getting lost in the rhythm of the soft music that fills the atmosphere thanks to the DJ.

Although not only disco balls light up the place, but also some colored lights to make the atmosphere more colorful.

If someone had told you in your freshman year everything that was going to happen in your final year, you would have laughed out loud and wouldn't have believed it at all, because your life was too boring.

But here you are, with still those events in mind, where at the end of the night, you will put them behind you.

You adjust your lilac dress, whose princess-cut skirt falls in soft layers to the floor. The fabric moves with you, as if it were an extension of your own footsteps, and the color shimmers delicately under the silver lights.

The three of you make your way to one of the tables to take a seat and you take a closer look around you as the decorations and you also see familiar faces of some of your classmates, some laughing in groups and others on the dance floor with their dates.

And Alysanne, excited and obsessed with everything, wants to have memories of the whole night and soon the three of you are taking a long selfie session with her phone.

Cregan complains about too many photos and the laughter of the three fills the air as Alysanne continues to make sure she captures the best shots, changing angles and poses.

Alysanne, with a huge smile, spins around on herself and then grabs your hands to dance with her, laughing every time you both take a step out of rhythm. You can feel her pure happiness, an excitement that doesn't take long to become contagious and where Cregan soon joins in.

The dance floor is filling up and the sparkles of the lights reflecting off everyone's costumes and dresses create an enchanting and magical atmosphere.

The DJ starts mixing more upbeat songs, and you see how everyone is having fun, laughing and dancing.

Immediately this catches Alysanne's attention and she drags the three of you onto the dance floor with infectious laughter. Before you know it, you're in the middle of the dance floor with them, surrounded by movement and music.

The music beats on the floor and vibrates in your chest, and, slowly, you begin to let loose, moving to the beat of the songs as the colored lights swirl above you all.

“I'm going to get a drink!” you let them both know over the music.

You have no idea exactly how much time passes that you find yourself dancing, enjoying the night, the echo of laughter and the warmth of the crowd.

The euphoria makes you forget and enjoy yourself as you feel your throat dry and your feet start to ache, with your body starting to beg for water and a little break.

“Okay!” Cregan nods, throwing you a smile, still dancing with Alysanne.

You smile knowingly, since after all, these two deserve to have their moment, and you walk away towards the table where there are different desserts and the drinks for all the graduates.

You take a bottle of water, and as you drink, the immediate relief makes you close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the coolness.

And only at that moment, standing alone and a little apart, you notice the glances of some people around you, mainly girls passing by you and whispering something between them, looking at you out of the corner of their eyes.

Great.

You thought you were past all this but even at prom it doesn't stop.

You take a deep breath and look out onto the dance floor, where you make out Alysanne and Cregan dancing close together, smiling and animated. You certainly don't want to interrupt them and you look around again, trying to distract yourself with anything you can find to rest your feet on.

You try not to make a big deal of it and look back at them for just a few moments with a serious look on your face and again try to focus on regaining your energy, telling yourself that this shouldn't affect you.

You remind yourself that you are here for you and your friends, and that is all that should matter to you.

When your gaze unconsciously focuses on Floris.

With her arm intertwined with a boy, whom you recognize from the lacrosse team, she looks absolutely elegant with a beautiful hairstyle and a gorgeous pink dress.

And as she joins the party, she seems totally focused on enjoying the evening, her expression relaxed and happy.

You look away from her, focused on something else, where your attention slips unintentionally to Alys, surrounded by her friends.

In the distance, suddenly her gaze meets yours and you quickly look away, not knowing why but… you really don't want to deal with or care about those people anymore.

She's wearing dark makeup and a sensual emerald green dress that completely clings to her body and highlights her curves. She looks completely beautiful, but knowing her attitude and behavior, it makes her lose her charm.

You watch Helaena for a few more seconds, her energy lighting up the dance floor, when suddenly, a tall, familiar figure catches your attention on the other side of the room in the crowd.

Instead, you focus on Helaena, who you find among all the people dancing, getting carried away by the atmosphere and in the company of the friend who told you.

Her silver hair is swaying to the music and she shines in the middle of everyone in that beautiful sky blue dress and gold accessories, looking absolutely gorgeous.

Aemond is standing a few feet away, talking to Aegon, both looking absolutely handsome for the evening. Then, the atmosphere around you seems to fade a bit and he's the only one who catches your eye in the middle of the crowd.

And that mixture of emotions about him rises in your chest again.

You take a closer look at who is around him and it is only Aegon. You don't see any girl hanging on his arm or anything, so apparently he has come unaccompanied, just like you.

He is dressed in a dark suit that highlights his slender figure and impeccable posture, just like Aegon. The silver light of the disc balls bring out his silver hair and his face so perfectly detailed, giving it a glow that is almost unreal to you.

Your gaze lingers on him longer than you had anticipated. From a distance, you can notice the lack of expressions on his face and the small twitch of his lips as he speaks to Aegon, looking around him without really showing any emotion.

That eye contact takes the air out of you. The memory of all the things you shared, the conversations, the looks, the touching and kissing… it all comes over you.

And at that very moment, as if sensing the weight of your attention, Aemond looks up and sees you beyond the crowd, apart and alone. The visual connection is instantaneous, almost electric, and suddenly you feel all the people and bustle around you fade away.

You can't deny the attraction and deep affection that, even now, beat intensely in your chest. And, for an instant, you wonder if he too feels the same mix of nostalgia and sadness in the midst of it all.

You notice how he looks you up and down, lingering on every detail of what you're wearing today, his eyes shining, filled with a kind of wary hope and longing, completely stealing your breath.

Then, his body language tells you he's getting ready to move. Coming at you, with her determined gaze.

Oh God.

A sense of panic invades every part of your body. And before he can do anything, you look away and quickly make your way to the dance floor, blending into the crowd, heading towards your friends.

The music booms in your ears and your thoughts are in complete chaos, hitting you one after the other.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you tell yourself that you just want to enjoy the night, to stop thinking about him and what was, even if it's only for a few hours.

So time passes, the energy of the dance becomes more relaxed, and though you manage to avoid crossing paths directly with Aemond, his presence seems to haunt your mind like a lingering ghost, one that doesn't dissipate with the music or the bright lights.

You look around from time to time, and out of the corner of your eye you notice that he also seems to avoid being too close to you, although you can't help thinking that maybe he is also looking for you in the crowd, as you are looking for him.

Until, finally, the atmosphere immediately changes.

The lights dim and the silver and warm tones transform the room into an intimate place. Couples begin to approach the dance floor, holding hands, to dance to the slow songs. And you decide it's the perfect time to take a break.

You smile at Cregan and Alysanne, giving them another moment again, feeling a twinge of tenderness and, at the same time, unexpected loneliness.

You take a seat at one of the nearby tables, watching as the dance floor fills with couples slowly swaying to the music.

Dresses and suits intertwine, and for a moment, you let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of the atmosphere, allowing yourself to feel invisible in the midst of all that harmony.

You watch Floris dancing with that boy, Alysanne with Cregan of course, and Helaena dancing with her friend, both with amused smiles and talking softly without taking the slow dance so seriously. You also see Aegon dancing very close with a girl.

And as your eyes wander around the dance floor, your gaze focuses again on his figure, which seems just as lonely as yours.

A few tables away, Aemond sits alone, surveying the dance floor with an expression you fail to fully decipher. His fingers drum on the rim of his glass, and, for a moment, he seems lost in his own thoughts. He looks calm, almost vulnerable.

You stare at him longer than you think and sigh, averting your gaze, and as the seconds pass, the urge to stand still and do nothing begins to fade.

You bite the inside of your cheek and begin to move your foot up and down rapidly, feeling your heart begin to beat too fast. You watch all the people dancing again, hesitating.

Then you let out a long breath and without knowing exactly why, you take a deep breath and stand up. With slow steps, a momentum and a calmness you try to maintain, you head towards him.

As you get closer, you notice how his gaze, which was lost on the dance floor, suddenly focuses on you, noticing before out of the corner of his eye your approaching figure. Surprise and bewilderment mixed with something else appears in his gaze and you stop in front of him, nervous but determined.

Then neither of you say anything for a few moments. The same nerves make you unable to speak and the two of you just stand there, watching each other.

You feel how some people around you suddenly have their attention focused on both of you, waiting for what you will do, but you don't even pay attention to them. You just focus completely on him.

Until you sigh.

"Do you dance?" you ask softly and nervous.

The words seem to break the spell, and Aemond blinks, clearly surprised and somehow confused.

You watch the expression on his face, as if he's processing every word you've just said, looking for some hint of doubt or change of heart in your expression.

"S-sure," he says still confused, not expecting this at all.

There's a mix of emotions in his eyes, confusion, surprise and nervousness, something you wouldn't have expected to see in him. And you, not wanting to drag this out any longer than necessary, extend your hand to him.

He watches your face attentively and then your hand, still surprised, to finally take it gently. His fingers intertwine with yours, sending an electricity throughout your body through his touch as he stands up.

You swallow hard, feeling your heart beating like crazy and nervousness invading your whole system. And without another word, you both head for the dance floor.

Then, everything around you fades away, the murmurs and laughter, even the music itself becomes a distant whisper, and only he remains, next to you.

He places a hand on your waist, his touch delicate, as if he doesn't want to do anything that could break this fragile instant. You take his other hand, intertwining it with yours and as you both begin to move to the rhythm of the music, you feel how a mixture of emotions floods each of your senses.

Aemond watches you, his eyes fixed on yours and with a nervous little smile on his lips, as if he can't believe this is really happening.

The music moves forward, slow, allowing you to glide in front of each other. As his steps synchronize with yours, the movements become smooth and natural.

And in a moment you realize that you both are completely absorbed in each other, as if nothing and no one could interrupt this bubble that surrounds you.

Finally, Aemond breaks the silence, his voice barely audible over the music and shy, watching you with a gleam in his eye.

"You look beautiful."

He says to you, his words so sincere and emotionally charged that you feel a surge of warmth wash over you.

You wish his words didn't make you melt. But they do. And everything about him, every gesture, his closeness, the firm, protective touch of his hand on your waist, the way he holds you, as if you were something precious and delicate, envelops and intoxicates you.

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a soft smile appear on your lips, "You too... you look very handsome."

He smiles, marking the dimples on either side of his cheeks.

"I wasn't expecting you to come over," he admits, his eyes revealing something between vulnerability and surprise.

The tone of his voice, so soft and honest, makes you feel a warmth you haven't experienced in a long time.

"I didn't know I would," you reply with a barely perceptible smile, "But I thought, maybe... I don't want to spend the night running away," you confess.

He nods, not looking away.

"I didn't want it to be like that either."

His hand on your waist pulls you slightly closer to him with a firm movement and the slight brush makes you aware of the closeness between the two of you.

You feel your thoughts cloud over and you let yourself become more enveloped by him, unable to help it.

His chin brushes your forehead and you feel that at any moment your heart will jump out of your chest. It's an insistent, powerful beat that seems to resonate with every breath you take at his side.

Then, Aemond lowers his voice, his tone becoming softer, almost melancholy, as if his words are a secret shared only between the two of you.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know? When I gave you the folder.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know, when I gave you the folder," he confesses, with a certain melancholy tone, "But I knew it wouldn't be fair to ask you that and I really didn't want to hurt you anymore."

The sincerity in his tone pierces you, and you feel your own barriers begin to crumble. You listen to him with your heart pounding, absorbing every word.

Aemond sighs and his fingers tighten slightly at your waist.

"And a moment ago, when I saw you so perfect and so beautiful in this dress... I realized how much I wished I had walked through those doors with you on my arm," he says with a longing and sadness.

The music continues to envelop you and you feel his confession reverberate through you, intensifying every sensation, every emotion.

The strength of his words, of the connection that has been created between the two of you in the middle of this song, makes the air seem thick and charged with meanings that don't need to be explained.

Then you raise your gaze to him and you both stare at each other in silence, where your words seem to get caught in your throat.

His eyes roam over your face, as if he wants to remember every detail, as if he wants to take this moment with him. There is a sadness and a softness in his gaze that you haven't seen before, and it makes something in your chest tighten.

And again his voice breaks through the soft silence that envelops you.

"I'm sorry... for everything," he says barely a whisper, laden with a sincerity that resonates deeply.

His fingers trace slow circles on your back, small gestures that seem to try to comfort you and to comfort him too. The contact between the two of you is firm and warm, and yet, you feel as if Aemond fears that at any moment this could disappear.

For a moment, the music seems to fade, leaving only your heartbeat and the echo of his voice in the air.

You feel the urge to speak, to say something that would ease the vulnerability on his face, but you find it difficult to organize your thoughts.

Instead, you opt for a simple but meaningful gesture. You propel yourself a little towards him and leave a soft kiss on his cheek, then rest your head on his chest and gently inhale his expensive cologne, being comforting enough for you.

"It's okay," you murmur.

He lets out a sigh of relief, mixed with longing and makes his grip on your waist tighter, not wanting to let go. Then, he leaves a soft kiss on the crown of your head, resting his head on yours as you both continue to sway gently to the music.

"Thank you for giving me this dance," he murmurs.

You place a soft, small smile on your lips, then raise your gaze to his, watching him with nothing but fondness.

He continues to watch you with that softness and one of his hands goes up to your cheek. In a delicate, almost fearful touch, his thumb runs over your skin in a gesture that is both protective and vulnerable.

Then he rests his forehead against yours and you both close your eyes, as you lean into him.

You both fall silent, letting the slow rhythm of the music carry you away, allowing the moment to linger, in a fragile and honest peace.

You feel that you could stay like this, in this bubble of time and silence, without the need for words, because, in this instant, you both understand what has been said and what doesn't need to be said.

The song changes to another slow one and you both lose yourselves in the moment, enjoying it, not wanting it to end.

Time seems to stand still as you dance together, moving slowly and leisurely, as if nothing and no one else exists. The sounds of the party fade around you, leaving only the beating of your hearts and the faint brush of your breaths.

Your eyes close as you let go, feeling his hand on your back and the warmth his body gives off, so close and so full of meaning.

You both breathe in sync, your foreheads resting against each other, your eyes closed as the moment stretches out and becomes more than just a dance.

This instant is a truce, a refuge where everything else, the doubts, the pain, the past, is suspended and what follows is moving forward.

"You've got everything ready to go to college?"

His voice breaks the silence softly, barely a murmur, as if afraid to disturb the peace around you both.

"Yeah," you murmur, nodding.

"What are you traveling there on?"

"Well, I was checking with my dad about bus and plane ticket prices. But I still haven't made up my mind," you admit, remembering discussions about which was the safest and cheapest option.

Aemond nods, thoughtfully. Then, after a brief pause, he speaks with calm assurance.

"I can take you."

You look at him instantly surprised, definitely not expecting that.

"What?"

"I can take you," he repeats, sure of his words, "Well, sure, if you want," he hastens to clarify, "After all, we're going to the same place and I'll make the trip in my car," he explains, "There's plenty of room for your bags along with mine and so you won't have to spend on a ticket. Besides, it would be safer and I think, I don't know, you'd be more comfortable."

You remain silent, trying to assimilate what he has just said. There is something in his words, in the slow and sincere tone, that strikes a deep chord in you.

The idea of making the trip together, of sharing that important moment of departure, of having one last time alone before facing a new life, awakens a mix of emotions that are difficult to describe.

He lowers his gaze for a moment, nervous, clarifying in a low voice.

"It's just a suggestion... something I thought might make things easier for you. You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

Your heart pounds, and somehow, the simplicity of his offer, the naturalness with which he cares for you, causes a warm surge of gratitude and affection to wash over you.

"Can you really do that for me?" you ask quietly, with a little smile you can't help.

"Sure," he says absurdly softly, as if it weren't obvious, "But only if you want me to. I don't want to force you. It's just an option."

You look up at him, holding his gaze for a second that seems like forever, and nod slowly, allowing the feeling of relief and closeness to wash over you.

"I'd love to," you whisper, your voice barely a murmur, "Thank you."

The shadow of a smile tugs at his lips, and you can see the relief in his expression.

"No need to thanks."

Without another word, Aemond pulls you a little closer to him and again the two of you bring your foreheads together, letting the moment lengthen as the music changes to another slow rhythm.

You both remain like that, moving in silence and enjoying the moment, spending the last moment of your high school lives together, to start college together.

"Are you ready?"

Aemond watches you from the driver's seat, his hands resting calmly on the steering wheel with a small smile on his face.

The car is already loaded with suitcases for both of you and you nod, taking a deep breath to calm the emotions fluttering in your chest.

The thought of heading off together towards this new stage causes a mixture of nerves and excitement to wash over you, though a part of you also feels comforted by Aemond's presence at your side.

"Yes," you reply, adjusting your belt.

You watch him and he gives you one last knowing look before putting the car in move.

Saying goodbye to your dad was difficult, but it was something you were both already preparing for and you knew that moment would come.

Besides, he met Aemond, as your friend who will do you the favor of driving you to college and nothing more. And your dad felt safer with that instead of taking the plane or bus alone.

Especially after Aemond promised him countless times that he would take care of you at all times.

The road is serene at first, and Aemond turns on the radio, letting a soft melody fill the comfortable silence between them.

The roads stretch out in front of you, long and exciting, as the landscape changes shape and the kilometers pass, leaving behind the city where you experienced so much.

From time to time, you exchange glances, small comments about the places you see and the expectations each has for the university.

Aemond seems especially careful, attentive to every sign on the road and every change in your expression, as if he wants to make sure you are comfortable and at ease.

And he especially notices a change in your expression.

"Is something bothering you?" he asks you, his voice low but close, filling the space in a comforting way.

You watch him and after some hesitation, you shrug.

"I guess it makes me a little nervous not knowing what to expect," you admit, "This whole new stage... the idea of being alone in a new place."

Aemond nods, understanding what you mean, his eyes fixed on the road.

"I guess it's normal," he tells you softly, "It's almost obligatory to feel this way, but, for what it's worth... you won't be completely alone."

His gaze meets yours for a second before he turns back to the road.

"I'm going to be around if at any time you need anything or anything happens, anything at all."

You feel a warmth settle in your chest, and a part of your nerves seem to fade. The idea of him being there, close by, offering you that closeness, gives you a strange sense of relief.

"Thank you, Aemond," you murmur with a small smile.

He smiles, marking a dimple in his cheek, and turns his eyes to the front.

The ride continues, where the atmosphere in the car becomes more and more comfortable, chatting about small details, expectations, and the occasional joke that makes you both laugh comfortably.

And finally, as the two enter the town of Oldtown and the university looms in the distance, Aemond slows down, looking at the campus that would soon become his home.

"There it is," he says, a slight excitement in his voice.

The same excitement rubs off on you and excitedly, you take his hand, intertwining it with yours, excited and hopeful.

Hopeful that all that is to come for you in this place are good and promising things. As well as hopeful for Aemond and for you.

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