#best Mortgage Tips

[bettermortgage]

Understanding the VA Loan Application: What You Need to Know

in the word count Understanding the VA Loan Application: What You Need to Know The VA loan application process can be intimidating for many veterans and military personnel. It is important to understand the process and the requirements in order to make the most of the benefits available to you. This article will provide an overview of the VA loan application process and what you need to know in…

[mortgagesrefinance]

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[snmortgagecanada]

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[mortgageloanontario]

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[gutterfuuck]

sukuna smut… ur his nephew’s hot new best friend from college…

cw: mdni!!, agegap (sukuna in late 40s, reader in early 20s), modern au, dad/daddy kink, sukuna is high key problematic, lmk if i missed anything this is just a little thing so i can continue on my writing streak haha!!

ur bff yuji’s uncle sukuna is so hot. he’s tall, covered in tattoos, had muscles that flexed with the slightest movements… god he was so fine. he asks you if you want to feel his biceps one day after he catches you staring at him working out, sitting up from the rusty bench press and lowering the weighted bar onto the frame as he wipes his forehead with his forearm. he smirks as you approach him timidly, “c’mon, i don’t bite.” he chuckles, taking your shaky hand into his and pressing it to his arm, making you press your thighs together with how close he was to you.

ur bff yuji’s uncle sukuna who starts sending yuji to the store or on little errands when you’re over at the house, spending the time his nephew was absent flirting with his sweet little friend. “skirts a little too short, don’t you think?” he’d say as if he was making a joke, raising his eyebrow when you’d become flustered with your words and start stuttering. you’d worn that skirt just for him, you were so glad he’d noticed! yuji comes back almost an hour later with shopping bags in his arms, thinking nothing of the way his uncle gives you a slip of ripped paper with his number on it.

ur bff yuji’s uncle sukuna who makes you feel like, so grown up! you and him start to hang out together, he takes you out on his motorbike and lets you drink beer with him! he treats you like a real real adult, like the adults who have mortgages and homes. you two were just two adults, doing adult things!

ur bff yuji who catches on to it and is like, sooo grossed out! he yells at sukuna, something about him being a scumbag, right in front of your face when he realises his uncle’s hand inching up your skirt. of course you’d go after him, but later… you were too wasted to leave the house now, it was dark outside and creeps were out and about!! you’d apologise to yuji later, try and get sukuna to apologise, too! it wouldn’t be hard to tell him you guys weren’t dating, because you really weren’t! sukuna just… liked to get handsy. he’s from a different time, don’t you know it was polite to grope girls as a compliment?

ur bff yuji’s uncle sukuna who tells you since you’re an adult, just like him, maybe it’s ready for you to do adult things together, behind closed doors. your worry shifted from what you’d tell yuji later to the stiff rod that poked you in your thigh as sukuna slotted his hips into yours, kissing you softly before licking your lip and nipping on it, making you gasp as he pulled away and pinched it between his teeth before he let go. “c’mon, it’ll feel good… you want your first time to be with someone experienced, right?” he coaxes as he licks your ear, his hands softly gripping your body.

ur bff yuji’s uncle sukuna who’s got you dry humping him, hips melding against each other as you both made out sloppily, his strong arms holding you in place so he could rub his clothed hard cock right against your slickening pussy. he’s somewhat gentle until you accidentally call him dad- and then uncle- and then finally sukuna, a slip of tongue like when someone would call a teacher ‘mom’ on accident. sukuna didn’t care, he wanted to tear your clothes straight off of your body. young pussy was the best, especially young drunk pussy. he couldn’t wait to promise you only the tip, just so he can keep budging himself into you until he bumped right against your cervix… couldn’t wait to bounce you up and down til you were squealing out his name all high pitched and bubbly with your sweet voice cracking—

“filthy nasty bitch- was that really an accident or did you really wanna call me dad? uncle, maybe? you like it when uncle’s balls deep in your wet cunt…? h-hah, nh- did you really just tighten up just now, fuckkk… dirty little slut loves dad’s dick, hm? fucking d-disgusting— you’re getting off more than me now, hnm?” he talks and you can hardly process his words, fucked dumb with your eyes rolled up into your skull…

sukuna couldn’t wait to show off his new pretty little thing to his friends. if he’s feeling generous, maybe he’d let them take you for a test drive too. it was only last week he listened to toji bitch and moan about how he hadn’t had good pussy in a while and it really didn’t take much for you to listen to your bff’s older, tattooed, tall and hot uncle sukuna…

[shotmrmiller]

dark-ish simon but only because he cares :(

thinking about how you were doing something menial, like taking out the trash when simon's on leave and he tries to reach for the bags but—

"i've got it, simon. i'm strong and independent too, y'know?" it's such an innocuous comment. light as a feather but it lands heavily on simon's psyche. it'd been a gentle tease meant to brush off his assistance.

but insecurity takes hold instead. an unwanted seed taking root in his head. it has him spiraling, your words twisting and turning, taking a life of their own.

what now? first it's the trash, then it'll be the groceries. the car note. the mortgage. how long will it take until he's no longer wanted? no longer needed?

he watches you, silent as ever, as you titter around with a soft smile on your lips as you water the drying plants on the windowsill. take out a step stool to reach for the cups on the top shelf. open a jar of pickles with a knife, sliding the pointed tip of it under the lid until the seal breaks with a pop.

you've learned to live without him.

he can feel the ground beneath him crumble.

it strangles the last tatters of rationality he has. (not like he had much of a grasp on it to begin with, especially where you're concerned.) he can't have you thinking of him as a choice. to cast him aside, to realize that there's probably better out there for you. someone who won't be gone for months at a time, who won't flirt with death daily.

not when you're it for him.

it grips at his racing heart, panic digging its spurs into his chest. he needs you with a ferocity that transcends obsession. and he needs to be needed by you in equal measure.

it's not just about him anymore— it's about you. 'us'. he won't let you slip through his fingers like grains of sand, not when you're the only reason he fights to come back home. the steady rhythm of your heart, when he lays his head on your chest, is the closest thing to peace he'll ever know.

his determination hardens like tempered steel, his purpose sharpening. simon walks the tightrope of moral ambiguity at all times. nothing new.

this is the only way, he tells himself. the only way to reaffirm his place in your world.

your quiet voice fills the silence of your shared flat as you ramble about the latest gossip there is at your job, unaware that simon is currently messaging johnny and kyle the closest thing to a plea for help they'll ever get from him.

meet me at the usual in an hour. we'll talk then.

he's going to do what he does best.

keep the bad men away.

you'll never know a thing.

[skzdarlings]

part iv: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 10k words)

warning for this chapter: the usual story dynamics plus explicit sexual content.

-

“All right, gang,” Jisung says.  “Final year of school together, you know what that means?” 

You and Felix are on your way to class when Jisung literally throws himself between you.  He hands each of you a print-out before you can answer his question or even say hello. 

“The Three Musketeers,” Felix reads.  “Peas in a Pod, Rule of Three…?”

“This is our final year as a best friend trio in the hallowed halls of high school,” Jisung says.  “And next year?  Who knows what happens!  Marriages!  Mortgages!  Babies!”

“Jisung, we just turned eighteen,” you say. 

“Which is almost nineteen, which is almost twenty, then we’re practically forty.”  He waves a hand around.  “The point is, this is our last opportunity to solidify a name.  For us.  For the group.  It’s necessary.” 

“Is it though?” Felix asks, squinting as he skims the sheet.  “BLT?  Who’s the bacon?” 

“I am, obviously,” Jisung says. 

“Why is that obvious?” you ask. 

“How is it not obvious, Lettuce?”  Jisung says, scandalized.  “Anyway, we can workshop the names.  This is just to get the ball rolling.  I expect results by lunchtime tomorrow at the latest.”    

Jisung continues his endearing but admittedly inane blather, at least until Hyunjin comes sauntering up the hallway like it’s a catwalk, then he just frowns.  Jisung has never warmed to the popular pretty boy and Hyunjin does not seem particularly inclined to rectify any bad impressions.  He is astoundingly self-confident. 

People move out of his way.  Some girls downright swoon if he deigns to cast them even a fleeting glance.  You can’t really judge any of them seeing as you were the same when Lee Minho still roamed these halls.  You are not totally immune to Hyunjin either, though your attention is somewhat scattered these days. 

You look at Felix. 

He is re-reading the class schedule for this year, mumbling reminders under his breath.  His hair is a sunny yellow blonde and freshly trimmed to frame his face, thanks to your help.  He was cutting his own hair which made sense, not just logistically but stylistically, seeing as it was often a shaggy mess.  You have taken to helping him so it looks a little neater. 

You look at the fuzzier hair on his nape, recalling how your fingertips pressed there as you tipped his head for a better angle.  

Your eyes meet when he looks up, but you are drawn apart when Hyunjin claps him on the shoulder with a greeting.  They sat beside each other for most of their first year and formed something of a friendship – only something, because the plucky, likable Australian transfer student is a fabrication.   

You once told yourself you would never fall for the schoolboy routine, that you would always remember his real identity, but you never considered what might happen if you cared for the real him anyway. 

“Heeey Fee-lix,” Hyunjin says in an emphasized, overly friendly way.  He draws out your name with the same saccharine pleasantness, all while ignoring a scowling Jisung.  

Hyunjin leaves before anyone can reply, but Jisung still thumps Felix on the arm. 

“Traitor,” he says.   

“What?  He’s nice,” Felix says, exchanging an amused look with you. 

“You know, Jisungie, maybe you’d get along better if you stopped trying to trip him everywhere he goes,” you say, pointing to Jisung’s presently outstretched leg. 

Jisung stands straight.  “He tried to kill me,” he says. 

“Not this again,” you say.  “Jisung, he didn’t know about your peanut allergy—”

“He tried to put his nuts directly into my mouth,” Jisung says, then groans miserably.  “That came out wrong.”  He spins his cap to tug the brim over his eyes.  “Do not repeat that.  The last thing I need is freshmen writing fanfiction about us.” 

You and Felix pat his back in a consoling manner.   

Felix sits behind you in class, dutiful as ever.  You are unpacking your bag when Hyunjin walks in with his girlfriend of the week.   Rumours about Hyunjin are in never-ending circulation and he seems to help them along.  You have caught him in a quiet moment once or twice, curled up in the library alone or lingering after hours in the art room, but that quieter soul seems contradictory to his showman side.   Even now, he starts making out with his girlfriend in the middle of the classroom.  

You can’t help but stare, mostly because the brazenness is so audacious that it is impossible not to stare, but it also makes you think.  You have never kissed anyone, though you have entertained countless fantasies that spiral far beyond kissing, and while you know you are young in abstract way… staring at a happy couple your age makes you feel jealous, desirous, and a little ridiculous.  Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, forty… 

Felix clears his throat and you realize you have been staring too long.

Not only that, but Hyunjin is staring back, even with his mouth pressed against someone else.  It feels like flames erupt inside you.  You drop heavily into your seat and stare at your desk, swallowing hard.   When you chance a look, Hyunjin is leaning back in his own seat, smiling at you. 

Felix clears his throat again. 

“What?” you ask, sharp. 

“Nothing,” Felix says, casual. 

You roll your eyes.  He kicks your chair.  You turn around and knock his textbook off his desk. 

“That’s not nice,” he says. 

You stick your tongue out at him. 

As seniors, you are allowed to leave campus for lunch.  The three of you make your way to a nearby sandwich shop, one naturally packed with most of the senior grade level.  You crowd into a tiny booth, so cramped you are halfway sitting on Felix’s lap.  Your mood sours as you let yourself wallow in self-pity, thinking about how normal girls get to sit on normal boys’ laps and be excited about it. 

You are sulking into your sandwich, thinking about how you are going to die alone and miserable and unkissed, when a chair is suddenly drawn up to your table and Hyunjin sits beside you. 

Jisung’s mouth is stuffed full of ham, which you know because he drops his jaw despite all the food.

Hyunjin does not remark on it.  He smiles at you and you alone. 

“Hey,” he says.   He really is stupidly handsome.  Even up close, you see no awkward blemishes, not a hair out of place.  His uniform tie is a little askew from tugging but that’s it.  

Jisung kicks you under the table, probably because you are just staring blankly at Hyunjin. 

“Sorry, hi,” you finally say. 

His smiles widens.  He tucks a bit of hair behind his ear. 

“Hey, I won’t bug you and your friends,” Hyunjin says, ignoring when Jisung mumbles too late under his breath, “but I want to walk you back to school after lunch.  Alone.”

You are so unprepared for the suggestion that find yourself staring again.   He taps your chin to lift your head, still smiling. 

“Is that a yes?” he asks.

“Uh, sorry, yeah, yes!  Yeah, sure.  Okay.”  You aren’t even totally sure that is your answer, but it rolls out of you instinctively.  Just as instinctively do you whip a startled look to your best friend.  Jisung’s mouth is still hanging open.   “Umm…” you say, but Hyunjin is already standing. 

“Great,” he says.  “See you soon.” 

You watch him walk away.  Jisung speaks through the food in his mouth, chokes, swallows, then clears his throat. 

“What was that?” he finally says. 

“I have no idea,” you reply, completely honestly. 

You cannot compute this situation at all.  Your approach to most social interactions is to scowl.  Because of your father’s many stringent rules, you have never had an opportunity to be truly social.  You play an appropriate role at the functions he forces you to attend, but that entails sitting alone in a corner and sipping soda.  Growing up, you were not allowed to spend time at anyone’s house or go anywhere without supervision, so maintaining friendships was next to impossible. 

The only exception has ever been Han Jisung.  You sat beside each other in your first year and your miserable countenance coupled with his anxious demeanour meant that you spent six months not even talking to each other.  Then one day he mustered the nerve to comment on the weather, you replied accordingly, and somehow that opened a floodgate to unleash the goofy boy that would become your best and only friend. 

Your social experience is limited to that.  You are someone who sits with your best friend in a corner, staring at an unattainable pretty boy at a distance, but you have never had to grapple with the reality of one asking for your attention. 

You look at Felix, but he has drawn a somber mask over his face.  He pokes at his sandwich.  He can’t lecture you in front of Jisung but you know he has something to say.  A part of you wishes it was jealousy or any personal feeling, but you know it will only be a reminder about your father, that he wouldn’t approve of you running around with any unknown boys.  

When you leave the shop with Hyunjin, you already know Felix and Jisung will follow close behind.  Felix has no choice, but you are certain Jisung will require little convincing.  You pretend you do not see them trailing six feet back, partially obscuring themselves in the occasional bush, but Hyunjin naturally looks at them. 

“You’re not…” he says slowly.  “You’re not dating… one of them… are you?  They’re really—”

“They’re just my crazy friends,” you say in an embarrassed rush.  “Jisung is like my brother, ew, I could never – ew.  Ew.  Oh my god, ew.   And Felix—” 

You woke this morning with Felix’s face nuzzled in the back of your neck.  The distance in that big bed closed long ago now.  You only sleep apart when your father is home.  You also never talk about it, not that you could articulate your feelings anyway.  The intimacy and companionship provides more comfort to your soul than you could ever say.    

You swallow. 

“I’m not dating Felix,” you say.  “I’m not dating anyone.”  This thought prompts you to look at Hyunjin.   Rather ungracefully, you blurt the obvious question, “Don’t you have a girlfriend?  Why are you talking to me?”

He laughs into his palm.  You realize belatedly just how accusatory you sounded, especially considering his attention might be wholly platonic.  Embarrassed, you trip over your words, your tongue a suddenly clumsy thing.

Hyunjin just giggles.

“It’s okay,” he says.   “No one ever calls me out like that.  I like it.”  He bumps shoulders with you.  Wait, is he flirting?  You have no idea.  You stare at the ground with laser intensity.  He just giggles again.  “We broke up before lunch—”

“Wow, you moved on fast,” you say.  Dry remarks tumble out of you easier than anything else.  You bite your tongue, embarrassed again. 

Hyunjin still looks amused.   

“It wasn’t really serious,” he says.  “I’m looking for some with similar life experience, to be honest…”

You crinkle your brow and look at him.  His hands are in his pockets, his slouch casual, but you swear his eyes sparkle when he looks at you. 

“I saw you,” he says.  “At that horse race thing.  This last weekend?  You were in the box with your dad, right?  Felix was with you too.” 

The horse race was an end-of-summer event your father sponsored, one of his community philanthropic efforts.  You spent the whole time frowning under a sun hat, only smiling when Felix muttered something scalding about a particularly overdramatic hat in the crowd. 

A crowd Hyunjin was apparently in. 

You have always known Hyunjin comes from money, but there is money and there is money.  The Hwang family might be rich but your father is powerfully wealthy.  You run in different circles.  You have never seen Hyunjin at any event so you would never even think to look for him.   They must be moving up in the world. 

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, not even a dry retort. 

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin says.  He touches your shoulder and your attention zeroes in there.  You can’t decide if you like him touching you.  An hour ago you were idly daydreaming about kisses and touches, but the reality is a different thing.   It took you a long time to warm to Felix, bit by bit, touch by touch.  Even those touches terrify you in their own way.  You are scared of needing them.  You do not know how you can simultaneously desire touch and fear it more than anything. 

Hyunjin uses a soothing tone, drawing your gaze away from his hand. 

“I get it,” Hyunjin says.  “You don’t want people to know you’re rich, right?  Honestly… I think that’s really cool of you.   My dad likes to show-off so I guess I kinda do the same.”  You glance at his brand-name leather satchel.  “Everything is about appearances to him.  It doesn’t even matter what’s true as long as everything looks the way he wants.  There’s an… image… for the family.  And I’m an only child so there’s expectations.  Maybe I’m not making sense.”

“No,” you say, your thoughts drifting to your own home life. “It makes sense.” 

“I thought maybe you and me could hang out—”

“I don’t really hang out a lot,” you interrupt.  You have been able to spend more time with Jisung now that Felix can accompany you, but it has been at cafes and other controlled locations.  You have not gone to any parties since your father beat Felix.  He has never hurt him as badly as that first incident, but he has struck him more than once.  You have not taken the risk. 

“Think about it at least,” Hyunjin says.  “Think about me.  I think we could be a good match—”

“You mean…”  It might be ungenerous, but you weigh his words and form a conclusion.  “If you date someone like me, it will get your father off your back?” 

He is quiet for a second, surprised, then he laughs again.  He finally drops his hand.  His next smile is a little lopsided but more genuine. 

“Maybe we could help each other,” he says. 

“I didn’t say I need any help,” you reply.  You cannot help the way you bristle, like a vulnerable animal rearing its defensive spikes.  “You don’t know me.”

“I know me,” he says.   “And I recognize… well.  Think about it.”  He looks behind you, his features scrunching with clear repugnance.  “I’m gonna go before your not-boyfriend pops a blood vessel.  Talk to you later?” 

You are still processing the whole exchange but you manage to nod.  He turns on a swift heel and struts ahead. 

You turn, expecting to find Jisung frothing at the mouth given Hyunjin’s departing words.   But it is Felix silently seething, Jisung just cringing beside him. 

Felix cracks his own neck, a couple sharp jerks, then he forces that empty smile onto his face.  

When you are settled in the car at the end of the day, you are not surprised his first words are, “You know I have to tell your father if you start seeing some guy, yeah?” 

“Some guy?” you say just as icily.  “You know his name.”

You have been on edge on all afternoon, discombobulated from the exchange with Hyunjin.  Felix has been unusually silent, so rigid and ungiving that he reminds you of that mysterious fourteen year old boy who barely did more than blink. 

But he is not that boy.  You are both growing.  You can feel the seconds passing you by, every aching minute that your life does not change from its stagnation, every moment of his own life that Felix has surrendered.

You want to jump out of the moving car.  You want to slide across the seat and bury your face in Felix’s neck, no matter that someone can see, and you want him to hug you back. 

You stay seated. 

“Do what you want,” you say with a sigh.  

He sighs too, resting his forehead against the car window. 

The house is empty tonight.   You can’t concentrate on homework so you shuffle down to the gym where Felix is practicing kicks.  You watch him, his nimble athleticism, the perfect arc of each high kick. 

One wall of the house gym is a mirror and your eyes meet in the reflection.  He holds your gaze for a moment, but then he goes back to counting under his breath, kicking again. 

“I thought you liked Hyunjin,” you say. 

He stops kicking.  His hands are taped up for boxing, so he diverts his attention there, slowly unweaving the tape while he catches his breath. 

“This has nothing to do with me,” he says.  “You know that, yeah, so I don’t know what—”  

“Don’t you want to date someone one day too?” 

He doesn’t look up.  He drops the tape on the floor and starts on the next hand. 

“No,” he finally says after a long pause. 

“No?” you repeat.  “You don’t want—”

“I can’t want anything,” he says with a mean bite.  “I have a job.  And responsibilities.”  The tape is too light to throw but he flicks it as hard as he can, shaking his head.  “Why are you asking me stupid questions?  You know how things are.” 

Yes, you do. 

You know what you feel when you look at Felix.  You have been friends with Jisung for years and his proximity has never induced the same feelings.  Bursts of heat find you at unexpected times, usually moments when your intimacy feels its most casual.   But you never have to think twice about why a crush on your bodyguard is a bad idea, because Felix always reminds you without saying anything.  When you get too close, his eyes go glassy with some remembrance and he swiftly pulls away.  

You know this does not stop him from thoughtlessly leaning into your touches.   He slants towards you with a certain kind of hunger, one you know is satisfied when you touch given how he sighs or relaxes.  Then, like someone so used to starvation that emptiness feels natural, he remembers himself and withdraws.  You wouldn’t care – or at least, you shouldn’t care – except it leaves you just as empty. 

You do not know the details of Felix’s past, but you do know that you carry a similar pain.  He recognized it at a glance, all those years ago, seeing past your bravado and calling out your fear.   We’re both scared, he said.

You see it now, in the tension across his shoulders, in the way he avoids your gaze.   The sharpness of his tone is a twin to your own. 

“Yeah,” you say.  “I know how things are.  You’re a pain in my ass and I hate you.” 

It is such an unconvincing lie that he finally lifts his head, meeting your gaze in the mirror.   You look at each other for a long moment. 

You wonder what someone brave would say or do.  Maybe you would tell him the truth and fuck the consequences.  Maybe you would kiss him like you were experienced, like you were anyone but an awkward little girl with clammy hands and shaking knees. 

You turn to leave.   He sighs and says, “Your father said yes.” 

You freeze. 

“He likes the idea of Hyunjin,” Felix continues.  “He thinks he’s… appropriate.”

You remember Hyunjin making out with someone in the middle of the classroom, and you remember how he was once expelled for fighting.  You laugh humourlessly, the sound punching out of you.  You slap a hand over your mouth to contain it.   You suddenly feel like crying and you don’t know why, except that your emotions are in constant flux.

“You mean he thinks he’s rich,” you say. 

“I mean… he doesn’t… think it,” Felix says dryly.  “Hyunjin is rich.” 

Felix can move quietly even in military grade tactical boots.  It should be easy in his gym shoes, but he walks heavily as he comes up behind you. 

“Why don’t you sound happy?” Felix asks. 

You turn around and meet his gaze directly.  Your stare is heated, rife with all your mixed-up emotions, but he does not flinch or look away. 

“You’re an idiot,” you say.  “I hate you.” 

You have never fooled him with that proclamation.  He draws his lips into a thin line, just staring back at you for a moment.  When you turn to leave, he grabs your arm.  Sparks ignite under his touch, shooting all the way up your arm, tickling your neck, raising each hair.   It feels so different from Hyunjin. 

You look at him and he lets go, flexing his hand at his side. 

“I, uh, I want to show you… something.”  He pushes some sweaty hair off his forehead.  His deep voice seems lower, the sound scratching at the base of your spine.  Tingles run all the way up to your head.  

“Show me?” you say.  “Show me what exactly?”

“Self-defence,” he says, brow furrowed, like his train of thought was obvious.  “If your dad lets you go out with some guy—”

“With Hyunjin,” you say, rolling your eyes.  “The dumb gangly gazelle you’ve watched lumber all over the field in gym class?” 

“You should still know how to protect yourself,” he says. 

“Isn’t that what you’re for?” 

“I am going to guess you might be alone with him once or twice,” Felix says dryly, “unless you want to keep me in the room then too.”

The suggestion makes you feel hot, flushed with embarrassment.  You duck your gaze to the floor. 

“You’re being silly,” you say.  “I haven’t even gone out with him yet.  And I’ve never even kissed someone.”  Felix must know that, but admitting it feels different. You look up, feeling floaty and detached from your body, like you are watching yourself look at Felix. 

He clears his throat and looks away, snapping you back. 

“Fine,” he says.  “We’ll practice another day.  But we will practice.” 

You know he means self-defence, but your brain supplies the image of kissing practice.  Your face must show that thought, maybe a sliver of panic in your gaze, because the tips of his ears turn suddenly pink.   He clears his throat again, shaking his head and turning away.   You leave quicker than you came, rushing all the way to the top floor to hide in your bedroom where you intend to mull over your day with maximum angst.

By nighttime, everything seems petty and stupid.  You are laying in bed on your phone when Felix gets back from his security check.  He says nothing, climbing into bed without even looking at you.  You just roll your eyes, done with the drama.  He looks over just in time for you to butt your head against his arm like a disgruntled baby goat.  His laugh is nothing more than a sharp exhale. 

It takes some coaxing, mostly in the form of whining, but Felix puts his arm around you.  Some of the shadows finally leave his face, a smile even daring to poke through. 

You fiddle with the neck of his t-shirt and he does the same with the ends of your hair. 

“Your father had an idea, by the way,” Felix says, “for a first date.” 

You groan, planting your face on his chest.  He laughs, a proper hearty sound.

“What, a picnic in the family dungeons?”  The sarcasm rolls off your tongue.  “Torture?  Flaying the guy alive? Chopping off his—” 

“Ouch.”

“I was gonna say limbs—”  You swat his chest. 

“Okay, okay, ouch, hey!”  He is still chuckling when you settle again.  He squeezes your arm. 

A moment of comfortable silence passes.  You resume your absent-minded fidgeting, twisting the loose material of his t-shirt around your knuckles.  You do not dare meet his eye when you ask, “I know what you said earlier but… if you could… what would you do for a first date?” 

His whole body goes stiff with tension, then he just exhales, a pitiful sound of resignation. 

“There’s no point in thinking about it,” Felix says.  “And I don’t know anyway.  What do people do on dates?” 

“Oh come on, you’ve been watching the dramas with me,” you say, keeping your voice light.  “You could have some ideas.” 

“Well, I don’t,” he says, not unkindly but firmly. 

“Fine,” you say.  You roll over so you are half on-top of him, a leg thrown over his.   You make a show of rolling your eyes, but his returned gaze is too soft for any real animosity to linger.   “For the record, I would plan an amazing first date if I didn’t have my dad – blegh – orchestrating the whole thing.”

“I believe you,” he says with a chuckle.  “I’m sure you would sweep Hyunjin off his feet, hmm?”

“Hmm,” you echo.  “Sure.”  You raise your head so you are peering down at him.  “I don’t even know what Hyunjin would like.  He’s pretty but he’s… I dunno… a liar or something.  Like he obviously just wants to date me because we’re both rich, but he wouldn’t admit it till I said it.  Who knows what other secrets he could be keeping.”

“Hwang Hyunjin,” Felix muses.  “Deep, dark secrets… maybe… hmm… his hair routine?”

You laugh before you can stop yourself.  “Don’t be mean,” you say. 

“Uhh, I’m never mean,” Felix says.  “You’re the one who called him a liar.” 

“Or something,” you argue playfully.  He says ahh, like that differentiation mattered at all.  “Maybe he collects teeth from all his dozens of girlfriends.  Or their hair.  Maybe he’s a cannibal.” 

Felix sighs with theatrical exasperation.  “From hair care to cannibalism, really?” he asks. 

“Could be,” you say, trying and failing to stifle your giggles, especially when it makes him laugh.  “He might gobble me all up on the first date.” 

“That would be very rude,” Felix says.  “He should wait until the third date at least.”

“Oh, is that what a gentleman like you would do?”  You laugh.   “Maybe provide a written invitation to the event?” 

“Of course,” he jokes.  “If I planned on eating you, you’d be the first to know.”   

The double-entendre is clearly unintentional, smothering the giggly playfulness with a sudden heady air.  You both hear the accidental suggestion, and you both stare at each other, and you both take too long to say something so it turns awkward.  You become very aware of all the places you are touching, so aware that you cannot compel yourself to move thanks to sudden nerves. 

Felix reliably comes to his senses first.   He nudges you gently, forcing himself to laugh as he slides out of the bed. 

“Umm, sorry,” he says.  He shoves a hand through his hair, the blonde fluffing with his rough touch. “I just need to… uh… bathroom?  I’ll be... um, back.”

You return to your side of the bed where you curl into a ball of appropriately eighteen-year-old angst.  Your current state of peril has nothing to do with power-corrupt businessmen and their fragile egos, and everything to do with a boy in your bed.   You shove your face in a pillow and keep it there until he returns.   You do not look at him, still too riled up in the silent tension.    

You are convinced you will never fall asleep but it inevitably sneaks up on you.  All at once, you are blinking awake in the morning light.   You drifted closer to Felix in your sleep but kept your hands to yourself.  You are both laying on your fronts, faces turned to each other.  He sleeps so lightly that he wakes from the faintest shift in the cadence of your breathing.   

The sleepy quiet of morning has none of the awkwardness of late night silence.  It feels hazy and gentle in its golden breath, held long enough for your hands to meet between you.  It is the only place you are touching, fingertip to palm to knuckle and back again.  Your whole head goes fuzzy with tingles when he traces the pad of your palm.   

You think about the many romance stories you have surreptitiously read on your laptop, flipping between smut and homework.   In all those stories, it seems that when the hapless leads find themselves sharing a bed, they manage to entangle themselves overnight, always suggestively, always accidentally. 

You do not appear to have that kind of luck, that accident of circumstance where you are not responsible for your own actions.  Instead you are laying in the sunlight, lit up so brightly that there could be no mistaking intention, his dark eyes catching the light as he looks at you as if he knows what you are thinking. 

It has to be deliberate.  Nothing will change on its own.  

Is this combination of terror and desire normal?  Is it simply a matter of age and inexperience?  Or is it in indication of damage, something inherently broken in you?   When your fingers interlock, it feels wonderful.  It also activates alarms in your head, none of them equipped with an off switch. 

You close your eyes.  He breathes and you know him so well that you recognize him by that, by the way he inhales sharply, like he has suddenly remembered where and who he is.  You know it means he is about to pull away. 

Sudden, sharp, panicked adrenaline propels you out of your timid repose and into his arms.   It is not so different from the millions of times he has held you, except this time you are frantic and strange, your heart beating wildly as you hide your face in his neck and cling to him like he will float away if you don’t hold tight enough. 

It surprises him.  He has the skill to deflect an attack but he lets you barrel into him, taking your weight with little more than an oof.   For a moment, he does nothing, his arms open at his sides.  You feel his shoulder twitch. 

He says your name in sleep-rough voice, barely more than a whisper.  A reminder, scolding you but half-heartedly.  You know what he sounds like when he is mad, when emotion slips through the cracks of his careful facades.   This emotion is not anger. 

“Felix,” is your reply. 

His next breath shudders out of him, sounding almost painful.  Then the arm beneath you shifts.  He touches your lower back tentatively, through your t-shirt yet hesitating like the contact might burn skin.  Another breath, then his palm is flat on your back and he is rolling onto his side to face you.  

Your heart is leaping around like it is being electrocuted, sparks of electricity zapping to every extremity as his other hand curls around your bicep.  His eyes are screwed shut and his mouth is open, nothing but another shaking breath passing his lips. 

You touch his face with trembling fingers, the very tips lightly brushing his temple.  You know, on some level, this is nothing deserving of alarm despite the cacophony still ringing in your head.  This is little more than an intimate embrace, fully-clothed and only barely touching each other. 

You are not even kissing.  With your adrenaline in the dregs, you cannot push yourself across that space.  Instead, you find yourself staring into his face when his eyes open.  You look at each other, forced to reckon with your proximity, looking at his mouth while he looks at yours.  There is no denying this could be a kiss, that it would require very little more than a lean.

His knuckles skim your side as his hand slips from your arm to your waist.  Your breath catches when he lays his hand on your hip, not moving or pushing but holding.     

Still such simple touches.  You wonder how other people can do more so easily when this alone is overwhelming.   

Your morning alarm is not due to ring for another twenty minutes.  There is nothing to disturb you.  You press your fingers into his shoulder.  This already has him tensing, then you scratch your nails along the nape of his neck, up into his hair, and it unravels him with a shiver, eyes closing and cheek pressing hard into his pillow. 

He wrenches away all at once, making a noise like it hurts to do so.   You feel dizzy as you stare at the indentation on his pillow while he swings his leg off the bed.  He doubles over, elbows on his knees, hands on his face.  He digs his fists into his eyes and scrubs hard.  He takes a minute to catch his breath.    

Eventually he stands.  He pauses like he intends to speak but then he just pivots into the bathroom.  The door shuts with a heavy click. 

You roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling.   You have no idea if he is coming right back, but you know this intimate moment has conclusively ended.  Your whole body is alight, the places he touched you still radiating sensation.  There is such a desperate pulsing between your legs that you can’t help but touch there, palm pressing hard to quell the incessant thrum of want. 

You really do not intend to do more.   You only just barely know the mechanics for touching yourself thanks to reading, but you are afforded little opportunity for discovery due to obvious reasons.   You do not know how fast he will return, but you doubt you have enough time to work it all out. 

You slide a hand under your clothes only to temper the worst of that wanting, applying pressure clumsily.   Your eyes close when you feel how ridiculously wet you are, far more than you have ever felt before.   Your mind then projects the unbidden image of Felix, wondering if he is on the other side of that bathroom door touching himself in a similar way.

It makes you gasp, turning your head, heel of your palm still pressing down hard inside your shorts.  You open your eyes just in time for Felix to step back into the room. 

He looks at you and completely freezes.  You have never felt more like a deer caught in the headlights. 

He turns and stumbles back into the bathroom, uncharacteristically clumsy.  You yank your hand out of your shorts and roll onto your front, shrieking into your pillows with a combination of frustration and embarrassment. 

What is my life, you ask yourself.   You really have no answer. 

-

The first date with Hyunjin is not a proper date at all.  Your father extends an invitation to Hyunjin and his parents, requesting their presence at another one of his good-press charity functions.  

This one is a silent auction and banquet in a luxurious hotel ballroom.  Despite the fact you attend the same school, you are formally introduced at the party, the whole charade making you feel like a ridiculous character in a historical drama.

You are already more than a little grumpy because Felix is not here, your father logically determining that his own security entourage was plenty for the night.  There is also the matter of Felix’s cover.  Hyunjin knows him as a student and your friend, not a bodyguard.  You will have to tell him eventually if this goes anywhere but—

That thought abruptly sends you on one of your overthinking spirals.  If your father intends to force this relationship along, you do not know if he will fire Felix rather than explain him, if one day you will suddenly go home and your bedroom will be empty, Felix gone without a trace and you with no way to contact him.   

Your throat strains with a choked back sob as you struggle to remember every little detail about Felix – the animes he claims he only watches because Jisung does, but that he definitely secretly enjoys, the horrified lemon-sour face he pulls when he accidentally drinks your coffee instead of his sugar-laden tea, the way he likes taking apart electronics and rebuilding them, his sharp mind, his goofy wit, his complete and total weirdness that he skillfully masks in public but drops at home.   That house could be full of people but if Felix was no longer there, it would feel horribly empty. 

“Are you okay?”  Hyunjin asks.  He looks resplendent in white, his dark hair a sharp contrast to his dress shirt and pants.  Other people are swooning at the sight of him.  You have not looked at him for longer than a few seconds at a time.  

“Sorry,” you say.  You take a swig of water like it’s hard liquor.  You try to smile but you can feel how crooked it is.  “Just… the parties are a lot.”  It is only a partial lie.  Your mind is somewhere else, but the parties are a lot to handle. 

Hyunjin smiles.  He props his chin in his hand and leans towards you.  “Good company makes them better, though,” he says. 

“Yeah.”  You look away again, staring out the window at the cityscape and thinking about Felix.  “It does, doesn’t it?” 

The ordeal is a success by your father’s standards.  You sit with Hyunjin all night.  You dance a few clumsy dances where you scuff his expensive dress shoes with your missteps.  You wander onto a balcony and he gives you his coat.  Beat for beat, moment by moment, it all goes perfectly. 

A moment that genuinely moves you is the only one your father does not care about.  Conversation between you and Hyunjin is stilted for a long while, then someone mentions one of the paintings up for auction and he lights up.  No one else acknowledges it, so you ask him about it.  You do not miss the warning look his father shoots him, but when you smile at Hyunjin like he is the most charming person alive, it placates him.

Hyunjin does not observe most of this.  Once you let him talk about the art, he cannot stop.  He becomes someone else when immersed in this subject, more animated, more open, much more sincere.  You could almost like this Hyunjin. 

You like him even more when he forgets his propriety and snorts at your derision for a few pompous assholes.  This party is crawling with creepy elites, only a few known to Hyunjin.  You catch him up on the latest high society nonsense, pointing out the affairs and scandals, as well as telling him which few individuals are somewhat more tolerable.

You are leaning against a wall, licking the icing off a cupcake, when he suddenly smiles at you, big and huge.  You choke on the sugar.  You feel hot under your skin, wondering if you were accidentally suggestive with your licking, but he doesn’t comment on that at all. 

“I’ve never known someone who sees people so well,” he says.  “Especially somewhere like this.  Everyone is a bit—”

“Off in their own world?” You share a giggle.  “I’m just bored,” you say, deflecting the compliment because Hyunjin doesn’t know what he’s talking about.  You do not see anything special in your observations, just your own loneliness as you sit back and watch the world go by. 

You don’t tell him that.   You distract him by pointing to another figure across the room, a well-dressed older man flanked by his own entourage.  You can separate the immensely wealthy from the nouveau riche by appearance.  The former are sleekly sophisticated at events like this, almost nonchalant in their presentation, whereas the latter overdress themselves to flaunt their wealth, as if they feel the need to prove they belong.  The former know where they belong. 

This man is undeniably the former. 

“You see that man over there?” you whisper, pointing discreetly with your cupcake.  “That’s Mister Miroh.   He is my father’s biggest competitor and most hated rival.  They are exactly the same person and trust me, that’s not a compliment.  They hate each other more than anything.”  You say this very casually then take a bite of your cupcake. 

“Huh?” Hyunjin’s brow furrows, making you laugh.  “If they hate each other, why was he invited?”

“Because rich people are insane,” you say.  “It’s just about keeping up appearances.  Yeah, they’re rivals, but that also makes them equals, so it’s bad form to neglect them in public company.”  Hyunjin nods here, clearly understanding.  You remember what he said about his own parents and appearances.  You must admit, it is nice talking to someone who understands you from his own first-hand experience.  “Also,” you say, “I’m sure it’s like that saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.  If Miroh is here, then he’s not off somewhere disrupting my father’s business while his back is turned.” 

“This is exhausting,” Hyunjin says, shaking his head. 

“No kidding.”  You laugh again.  When Hyunjin looks at you with a dimpled smile, you smile back.  It feels friendly, not like his forced flirtatious grins earlier in the evening.  You like this Hyunjin more.  “You want some cupcake?” you ask, holding up the very big, very rich dessert. 

Hyunjin eyes it then shakes his head.  He tucks some hair behind his ears. 

“I’m supposed to be on a diet,” he explains, laughing at your expression because you cannot hide your horror.  “It’s not a bad thing—” he starts. 

“You are so skinny, a hard wind could blow you out the window,” you say, shoving the cupcake at him.  “You said I was good at seeing people, well, I can see you want the cupcake.  So eat it or I’ll push you off the balcony.” 

He looks around to see if anyone is looking but his parents are occupied with their own conversations.   He looks at you conspiratorially then acquiesces, finishing the cupcake in just a couple big bites.   You applaud and he shakes his head, laughing and spitting little flakes of cupcake.  It makes you laugh more.  He is in good humour the whole time, even if it takes a second to swallow all that cake. 

“What else do you see?” he says when you are both settled.  He is relaxed from all the giggling. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, trying to keep a straight face as you remember the cannibalism conversation, supposing he might not want to hear that precisely.   

“When you look at me,” he says.  He tips his chin as if striking a pose.  “Tell me my fortune.”

“I’m not a psychic,” you say, nudging his shoulder, but nonetheless you oblige and strike your own pose, a finger on your chin as you consider him.  “Hmmm.”  You look him up and down, the showman smile, the little crumb of cake on his lip.  “I think you’re very smart and very handsome,” you start.

“I like it so far,” he says.

Smiling, you roll your eyes.  “And,” you say, “I think you know your strengths and how to use them to make people look at you.  Or at least – to look at what you want them to see.”  You watch his brow furrow, his hand disappearing into the length of his sleeve as his fingers curl up.  “I think you have more going on than anyone knows,” you say.  “And I think those parts of you might be the best, and I’m sorry that you have someone telling you it’s the part you have to hide.”  His gaze is cast low at nothing in particular.  It seems to scan the floor thoughtfully.   You laugh to brighten the mood.  “Parents,” you say.  “Image.  Expectation.  Whatever.” 

“Yeah.”  He smiles at you again.  It is not one of his fake, smarmy grins, but it is not his carefree smile either.  It is polite, and it doesn’t reach his eyes, darkly reflecting a familiar sadness back to you.   “Whatever,” he echoes.  Then he stands straight and offers his hand, his face once more shielded with a showy, flirtatious demeanour.  “Wanna dance?” 

You do, and it pleases the parents, and the night passes.  You and Hyunjin share an amiable glance before going your separate ways.

When you arrive home, Felix is sitting in the kitchen reading a book for school.  He is not obliged to do the readings but he seems to enjoy it, certainly more than you.   You never thought you would be so happy to see such a simple sight, Felix at the counter with a book.  Fortunately, you are a smart enough to mask your enthusiasm around your father.   

You don’t have to worry because your father pays you no mind.  With your purpose evidently served, your father dismisses you for the night and calls Felix to his office for a debriefing. 

You step inside your walk-in closet to change clothes.  You frown at your dress, once more thinking about all those romance stories.  If the dress had a zipper, you would need help, then you could ask Felix to unzip it, and it would be an excuse to initiate contact without you truly propositioning him.  But the dress slides off easily, so you put on shorts and a t-shirt, then you are sitting in bed scrolling on your phone. 

You are in a good mood as you usually are when you get back from a party, happy it is over.  The energy you stored to endure the socializing can now simmer to a pleasant hum.  You are also extra happy to see Felix after dreading his demise all night.  Those worries seem silly now.  You will always need a bodyguard and Felix is reliable. 

Then you feel terrible for thinking that, because you should want Felix to go.  He should not be here at all, trapped with you in this nightmare.  Then you start thinking about Felix and his past nightmares.  If Felix disappeared without a trace one day, it would not be to freedom.  It might be to something worse again.     

Even though you feel uneasy, gazing at his empty side of the bed, you fall asleep before Felix returns.  You wake in the darkness to Felix leaning over you.  He carefully extracts your phone to place it on the bedside table.  You fell asleep awkwardly slumped, clutching it. 

You are barely awake, still half-dreaming about him disappearing, about what worse nightmares might chase him from your arms.  You wrap yourself around him completely, arms around his middle, head on his chest, leg curled around his, the totality of your embrace surprising him.  He chuckles, a low sound that vibrates in his chest. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, settling as comfortably as he can with you twisted around him like an amorous vine. 

“Nothing,” you mumble into his shirt.  “Just missed you.”

“It was just one night,” he says. 

“Mmph,” is your sleepy rejoinder.  You reach for his hand and slap it onto your back, groaning.  He gets the message and strokes your back with a gentle sweep.  You start to doze again, snuggled and warm, then he clears his throat.  You recognize the sound as his warm-up to vocalizing something awkward. 

“I guess, uhhh, I guess things went well… with Hyunjin… tonight, yeah?” he says.  He clears his throat again.  “Your father gave me an itinerary for future dates and arrangements…” 

“I’m gonna blow this fucking house up,” you grumble.

He chuckles.  His touch is absent-minded now, a lazy caress as his attention strays. 

“Did he, uh, did he… kiss you?”  Felix asks.  His hand stops altogether, freezing low on your spine.  “Not that I—I’m just wondering.  Because of what you said before.  It’s, like, a big deal to girls I guess, right.  So I wasn’t sure—” 

“No, Felix,” you say, rolling your eyes.  “I’m still very unkissed and very pathetic, so don’t worry about my honour.” 

You lift your head to give him a withering stare, but his face is very close and he is already looking at you.  You have not spoken about the previous morning.  Every second comes rushing back when you meet his eye, when his gaze flickers down to your mouth for a brief but hypnotizing second. 

“You’re not pathetic,” he says, just above a whisper.  That ridiculous voice of his rumbles so low when he speaks this softly.  It’s like the sound is directly connected to something inside you, tugging when he speaks, waking up every sleeping nerve. 

“Sure,” you reply, at a loss for any other retort.  

His mouth is a perfect bow.  You look away from it, resorting to your natural expression: a glare, intensely and resolutely locked on his eyes. 

“Well, I’ve never kissed anyone,” Felix says, drole.  “Am I pathetic?” 

“That’s different,” you say, not meaning anything by it.  It’s an automatic response, meant to simply dismiss his very good point. 

But you feel him tense.  The silence feels heavy.  You belatedly realize how he might have interpreted that.  That’s different because you’re not a person like the rest of us.

You are trying to think of an appropriate apology when he gently moves you, shaking himself free of your embrace. 

“You should sleep over there tonight,” he says.  “Your father is home and I’m—  I’m.  I should be over here.  Anyway.” 

He turns over, putting his back to you.  Even though it feels like your whole head is on fire, you muster the resolve to slide closer.  Then you lean over and kiss his cheek. 

You flop onto your back and stare at the ceiling. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

You look at him but he hasn’t moved.  Your lips are tingling from that simple, stupid touch and you feel so ridiculous that you want to shriek.  You suffice to close your eyes, shaking your head like that will erase the last sixty seconds of your life.  You look at the ceiling again, face twisted up with pain. 

That falls away when Felix flips over.  He was so still and so quiet that it genuinely startles you.  You swear your heart stops when he leans over you with a determined expression, one you usually only see when he is working out hard.  Your stopped breath is a cluster in your throat, your voice tangled in it.  Your mouth is open and eyes wide when he cups the back of your neck and lifts your head. 

Your heart starts all over again, pumping so fast that you are scared it will leap right out of your chest. 

He leans down.  He kisses your forehead for one second, two, three.  You count it.  Your fingers curl up.  Your eyes feel huge.  You look at him when he pulls away, his expression morose.  He does not meet your gaze. 

“I’m sorry too,” he says. 

He lays your head on your pillow and rolls away, his back to you once more. 

You fall asleep on opposite sides of the huge bed, so close and so far.  Your sleep is fitful and uneasy and you keep waking to check if he is still there. 

It is very early when you fully wake, the pale blue of morning only just seeping into the gloaming.  It is a quiet hour but despite its gentle ambiance, you are woken with a fright.  You settle when you realize it is just Felix grabbing you.   He crossed the bed to gather you into his arms, mumbling an apology but nonetheless wrapping himself around you. 

You realize he had a nightmare.  He has not had one in a while.   Your back is to him so you reach around to pat him consolingly. 

You shiver when he exhales, his warm breath brushing the back of your neck, but you do not linger on the sensation.  The previous morning and all its stirrings are far from mind now.  He is upset so you comfort him, simple as that, letting him wrap his arms around your middle and rest his head against yours.  Your thighs sit neatly against his, bodies slotted together neatly,  like it is the most natural place to be.    

“Can you, uhh, just…”  He clears his throat.  “Can you talk… to me… please.” 

Felix does not like to talk about his nightmares but he does like a distraction.  You are the same.  There are times you wake in a fit and he speaks in a soft voice to lull you back to rest.  Your voice is not as unique as his, lacking the deep dulcet colour, but he seems to like listening anyway. 

You tell him about the party, all the frivolous details and gossip.  Two women wore the same dress, what a scandal, someone dropped a pearl earring, what a loss.   This couple broke up, that couple is having an affair.  Miroh was there and predictably austere the entire night—

Felix was beginning to relax but he tightens his grip when you mention Miroh. 

Your voice trails off. 

Your father has many enemies but Miroh is his only true rival.  You are not directly involved in any business but you pay attention to your father and his work.  You know about the political bribery and the underhanded dealings and the illegal trading.   You know Miroh is the same except he is also a military man, that he has dark connections and turns a profit on some very backward schemes.   Of course, your father depicts his rival as a worse villain than himself, so it is hard to say precisely what Miroh does, but you know the look of a bad man regardless.  

You have suspected for some time that Miroh played a part in Felix’s dark past.  You do not know what or how or why, as you have never pushed Felix to tell you, but you know Felix well.  Your father has many enemies and Felix is always alert, but Miroh receives extra vigilance.   Every trace of your companion will disappear before your eyes, replaced with an emotionless soldier.

You feel all that tension in his body now.  He is holding his breath. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask in a small voice.  It is a vague admittance to your suppositions.

A little tension leaves his body with a humourless laugh, the breath bursting on your neck. 

“No,” he says.  “Not… not right now.” 

“Okay,” you reply.  There is a moment of silence.  Your heart is beating hard, his pounding as fast, his chest pressed against your back.  You shift in his lap. “What do you want then?”

That laugh again, a little more pained.  Then he sighs. 

“I don’t know,” he says in a rough voice.  “Just… distract me.” 

Just like that, the energy shifts, at least inside of you.  You know very well what would distract him, having witnessed the other morning just how to rattle your bodyguard.  The recollection alone has you flushed with heat, embarrassed and nervous and exhilarated all at the same time. 

It has always been hard for you to do the simple, normal thing.  You cannot smile for a long time, you cannot make pleasant small talk, you cannot kiss the boy you like.  But the difficult feats, the outlandish actions, those you have always done with ease.   You argue with your terrifying father, you break out of cages, you throw yourself into dangerous situations with little sense of self-preservation. 

You cannot turn and sweet-talk him.  You cannot lean over and kiss him.  You cannot smile and implore him. 

You can stare ahead through the pale light, warm with memory and fantasy alike, and slide your hand down between your legs.  With a little swivel of your hips, you press against his lap.  The effect is remarkably instantaneous, the adrenaline of his fears seemingly diverting course at the merest suggestion. 

He makes a choked noise, then his hand is overtop yours.  You always forget how strong he is, all that hidden power and dexterity.  He clutches your hand with ungiving control, down between your legs, over your shorts, preventing you from going further.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, his stern voice as affecting as a touch.  It makes you whimper.   

His hips shift.  His baggy shorts do little for modesty and you can feel him twitch with interest, stiffening against your backside.  You try to move your hand but he pins your wrist and says your name warningly. 

“I won’t touch you,” you whisper.  “You don’t have to touch me.”

“Other people are home—”

“Then stop talking and be quiet,” you say.  It is always easier to be brazen when you are arguing or asserting a point, so when he releases your hand, you slide it into your shorts without a second thought.  It is only once you’re there that you realize you don’t really know what you’re doing.  Your belligerence only takes you so far. 

Then Felix breathes a surrendering sigh.  He squeezes your hips with trembling hands and rolls away, onto his back.  You spill onto your back too and look at him.  You feel vulnerable and uncertain until he closes his eyes and touches himself through his shorts.  The sight makes it easy to stir a reaction under your clumsy fingers, watching his hand cup and stroke the shape of himself through his shorts.  You slip the other hand down there too, spreading yourself to your own exploratory touch.  You press and rub and circle, your heartbeat thundering erratically when he opens his eyes and looks at you. 

Your lips part but you withhold all noise, breathing hard into the dark as his hand dips under his waistband.  His eyes are cast low to where your own hands move under your clothes, your fingers moving more frantically than his lazy stroking. 

When you finally find a place and pattern that feels right, your breathing gets heavier, a soft whine slipping into your exhale.   His reflexes are quick as ever.  His arm slips under your head and curls around your neck, hand covering your mouth to catch the surprised yelp that passes your lips.

“Shh,” he says.

And for some reason that takes you over the building crest.  Your body curls, tight as coil even while a white heat unravels inside you.  You gasp into his palm, eyes closing, swallowing down your own sounds.   

You are still twitching with aftershocks when you grab his hand with your very wet fingers.  You are not thinking about that, you are still hazy and powered by instinct, prying his hand off your face. 

But he realizes it.  He makes another choked-up sound and looks at the closed door, his breathing coming out hard through his nose.  He pulls his arm back, closes his eyes.  His hand, wet with you, just hovers for a second. 

You watch him.  His mouth is open and his eyes are closed and his hair is falling in a messy sweep around his handsome face.  You are slow in your approach, giving him time to open his eyes, to see your own hand near his face.  

He exhales sharply and his eyes close tight.  He grabs your hand and pulls it to his mouth, your own sex pulsing with renewed interest when he licks across your fingers then lets two curl into his mouth, just resting on his tongue.  He finishes a second later, shoulders hunching and face screwed up, freckles dancing like a dark constellation. 

You bring your shaking hand to your own lips, tentatively kissing the fingers he had in his mouth.  He blinks his eyes open slowly, gazing at the ceiling for a second then looking at you.   When he sees you, your lips pursed against your fingertips, his mouth opens and closes with some unspoken thought, desperate to vocalize.   In the end he swallows it down and closes his eyes.   He nods sharply. 

“Okay,” he says, his voice ragged.  “Thank you.  Sleep.  You should…  You should.  Um.  I’ll just—”

He shakes his head and rolls out of bed, then darts into the bathroom.  The shower starts.   You look at your clock and see you have more than an hour to your alarm. 

You lay your head on your pillow but you do not fall back asleep.   

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Basement

Self-Aware! Platonic! Nikolai Gogol x GN! Abused! Child! Reader x Self-Aware! Platonic! Sigma

Description: Guiding Light hides something in the basement. Sigma and Nikolai want to find out, what it is.

Unnamed Female OC.

TW: Child Abuse. Mental Abuse. Mentioned of Car Crash. Terrible death.

Warning: First attempt in writing a four-year-old kid. English is my second language.

____

It was the middle of the night. And Sigma wasn't sleeping. He was laying on his back, staring at a selling.

He had a bad feeling. About Their Guiding Light... Sigma winced. He doesn't want to call this woman Guiding Light. Or Cookie Heart, the nickname, he came up with in their world.

There was something strange in this woman. Something dark. And Sigma wasn't talking about Fyodor's darkness, or Nikolai's or anyone else's. No. It was some special kind of darkness.

First, this woman was too eager to leave this house. A two-story house, with three bedrooms, kitchen, living room and basement. While Sigma understand, that new house would be much better, then her current one, he couldn't understand her reaction. When Fitzgerald announced, that he is planning to find a new home for all of them, this woman demands, that Fitzgerald found a new home immediately. And every day she hurried him. She starts snapping on them. And every time she apologized for that. Explaining, that she was afraid, that someone would take away her current house. That she was renting the place.

That what she said the first time.

One time, when she got drank, she, once again, yelled at Fitzgerald, for not doing his best in finding a new home.

She, once again, apologized. And start talking about mortgage, and that this house can be taken away...

That made everyone start asking questions.

The same day, when she was sleeping on a couch, drunk, Sigma used his ability on her. He gave her some basic information about poker rules, and took her information about the house. This house belonged to her. She didn't have any debt. She wasn't in danger of being homeless.

What was going on?

Sigma rubbed his temples.

There was also a basement. She hated, when someone came close to it and the door was always closed. One time, when Oda's kids were playing, they came too close to the basement door.

And that woman lost her mind.

She was never friendly towards kids, or anyone, who wasn't an eighteen. Yet, that time, she was shouting, cursing kids for going near the door.

She was apologizing to Oda after that. Telling, that there was something delicate down there. That she is afraid, that kids will do something to it.

That woman came to the basement ones per day.

Yet, when three days ago Fitzgerald finally announced, that all of them will finally move away, she stopped going down here.

Today was their last night in this house. And that woman wasn't planning to took whatever was in the basement.

"Nothing of value is down here" said she, when Sigma asked.

Nothing of value? Then why did you shout at kids?

Sigma stand up. He and the rest of the DOA were sleeping in a sleeping bags in the corner of the living room.

Sigma carefully walked to the Nikolai's sleeping beg. Sigma wanted to shake him awake, when Nikolai raise his head.

"Also can't sleep?" asked Nikolai, sitting up. Sigma breathe in.

"Nikolai... I need your help. We must get down to the basement. Now."

Nikolai silently looked at Sigma. Then nodded.

Nikolai, who, for some reason, was sleeping in his signature costume, and Sigma tip toed to a basement door.

Right at the door, Nikolai used his ability to get his and Sigma on the other side of the door.

They were in the basement.

_____

It was dark. And the scent was terrible.

It took some time for Sigma and Nikolai to find a light switch.

After the light was on, they went down the stairs.

The awful smell became stronger.

The basement was full of boxes with children clothes and toys. Nikolai noticed a small bed in the corner of a room.

And they heard a rustle. And some sobs, coming from the direction of a bed.

Nikolai was the first one to approach the bed. No one was on the bed.

Nikolai looked under the bed.

And he immediately backed down. Nikolai looked horrified.

Sigma hurried to Nikolai.

"What is down here? Some sort of animal?"

Nikolai looked at Sigma and mewl.

"A child... There is a child down here."

_____

You are a bad kid.

Your sissy said, that you are a bad kid.

You killed mommy and daddy.

You were a bad kid. You wanted to play on the playground.

And mommy and daddy took you to the park.

They were riding with you on the backseat, in your special seat.

You were laughing.

And then there were a crash, screams and darkness.

You woke up in a hospital.

Sissy said, that Mommy and Daddy died. Because of you.

If you didn't want to go to a playground, they would be alive.

When you returned home from the hospital, sissy hide your toys in a basement.

"You are a bad kid, [Y/N]. If you want to play again, you would kill someone again."

Then you Sissy hide your clothes here. Your books. You.

"You are a bad kid, [Y/N]. What if you kill me next?"

You didn't like to be here. You were always hungry.

Sissy came down here only once a day. To give you food and take you to a bathroom.

But, one day, Sissy brought a bucket down here. She said, it was your potty now.

She still brought you food and water.

You were too afraid of going to the door.

One time, you heard Sissy's voice. She was screaming at someone. You go near the basement door, trying to listen.

You didn't hear your Sissy well.

When you asked her about it, she took away your food.

And she refused to clean your bucket anymore.

"Use your mouth. You are still a bad kid. Bad kids don't deserve clean potties."

You tried to go do potty once a day. You didn't want to clean it with your mouth.

Sissy stopped bringing you food.

You are hungry. You are thirsty. Sissy stopped bringing you food and water.

Your potty bucket were full. It smelled terrible.

When you heard footsteps, you hide under the bed. It wasn't Sissy's footsteps.

What if this people will punish you for being a bad kid.

You curled in a ball, hiding your face.

Then, someone spoke.

"A child... There is a child down here."

_______

Sigma and Nikolai didn't know what to do. The kid under the bad didn't look older, than a five-years, they looked skinny and frail. Their clothes were dirty. And they were sobbing.

Nikolai and Sigma looked around and dashed to the boxes, trying to find something to distract the kid with.

During his search, Sigma found a bucket, that the kid used as a toilet. It was almost full.

Sigma cursed that wrenched woman.

Nikolai put his hand on Sigma's shoulder and spoke.

"Розбуди інших. Потрібна вода, каша, ліки, теплий душ. І сотня інша куль у харю тієї, що зробила це з дитиною"¹.

Nikolai used his ability, to transport Sigma to the living room. You and him were left alone.

Nikolai found a toy. A parrot hand puppet.

Nikolai returned to the bed, where kid were hiding, put the puppet on his hand and put his hand under the bed.

____

Someone pet your cheek. You looked us.

A parrot puppet was right before your eyes.

A funny voice spoke.

"Don't cry, little friend! Polly the Parrot and his friend Kolya The Clown are here to make you smile." puppet point at someone behind him.

You looked at the person, who Polly pointed at. This man was smiling. His clothes, as much, as you can see, looked like a clown costume.

"Hello, kiddo! What is your name?"

You whispered.

"[Y/N]... I am four."

Nikolai bit his lip. He remembered, how, back in the app, they heard, how that woman cursed [Y/N], for killing their parents.

'Were you... the same [Y/N]?'

Meanwhile, you scoot a little y closer to Polly. You asked Kolya.

"Are you a sad clown? Where are your colors?"

Polly 'hugged' his head, whining in a funny voice.

"My friend, Kolya the Clown, is sad, because he wants to be friends with everyone he met. But, he didn't make any friends for a month. Will you be our new friend?"

Polly point at you. You flinch.

"I can't. I am a bad kid. I kill people. Sissy put me here, so I won't kill anyone."

If someone knew, what Nikolai was thinking about doing to your 'Sissy', he and at least ten generation of his descendants would be cancelled.

Potty shook his head.

"Don't be silly. You are a kid. Kids can't do it. Kids aren't for sitting in a basement. Kids are for hugs! Kids should play and make friends!"

Your eyes shined. Good, at least, you weren't completely broken. Nikolai spoke.

" Come here, kiddo. I can pick you up and we will go upstairs. Kolya the Clown and his friends will give you yummy food!"

You looked sad again.

"I am dirty. Your clothes will be dirty."

Nikolai, without thinking, used his puppet - free hand to scoop some dirt from the floor and rub it on his cheek and neck.

"Now, when I am also dirty, can I pick you up?"

Kolya's eyes looked so soft. You scoot closer to him.

Nikolai carefully picked you up and stand up. He was holding you close to his chest.

"Now, kiddo, let Uncle Kolya to show you a magic trick."

With "The Overcoat", he, with you in his hands, teleport into the living room.

______

Sigma was exhausted. He woke everyone up and used his ability on everyone he can, showing them, what he and Nikolai saw in a basement.

This way, no one would think, that Sigma misunderstood something.

When Nikolai, with you in his hands, appeared in the living room, everyone was ready to tear wrenched woman apart.

When they saw you, what condition you were in, they were ready to commit a crime against humanity to punish that woman.

Nikolai, who was petting your small head, spoke.

"Now, everyone, we need to take care of little [Y/N]."

Everyone became silent. They were afraid of asking. Finally, Dazai spoke. It took all his courage.

"[Y/N]... As in..."

Nikolai nodded. Rimbaud took a step closer. His voice was shaking.

"M-my ability... I can make a room soundproof. She won't hear anything."

Nikolai nodded, then gently spoke to you.

"Kiddo, are you okay with going with Uncle Arthur? He will give you a nice bath."

You looked at Rimbaud, who tried to look as friendly as he can. You slowly nodded. Rimbaud took you from Nikolai and carry you to the bathroom.

Nikolai looked around, noticing, that Fyodor wasn't anywhere to be fond.

"Where is Fedya... Oh."

Like on a cue, Fyodor appeared from the kitchen. He was carrying a small pot, filled with semolina porridge. Fyodor already add jam here.

Fyodor, noticing, how everyone looked at him, shrugged.

"I hope, when next time I will insist on taking with us every food we can, you won't question me."

The room became quiet again.

"We are getting out of here. We are taking the kid with us. And we are dealing with that woman."

No one argue with Fitzgerald.

_____

She woke up in an empty house.

Her golden tickets were gone. She was searching for them. She found one.

Sigma.

She didn't like him. He refused to read financial information from her terrible co-worker. She put a fake smile on her face.

"Sigma? Where is everyone?"

Sigma looked her in the eyes. Then slowly moved towards her.

"In a new house."

She smiled nervously.

"Wh-why didn't they wait for us? Did they forget us?"

Sigma took another step forward.

"You aren't going with us. You are staying here. In a basement."

Sigma kneel before her. She was looking at his, trembling with anger.

"It isn't funny!"

Sigma nodded.

"Yes. It's not funny. But, the basement is a place for something, that doesn't have a value. And, you see, [Y/N] are priceless..."

She was too shocked. She didn't notice, how. Sigma grabbed her feet. She didn't question, how he could pick her up by her feet and throw against the table with all his might.

Before she lost consciousness, she heard Sigma's voice.

"...and you don't have any value."

_____

She woke up in a basement.

She was nailed to a table.

Her mouth were sewn shut. And a tube, that was connected to something in the ceiling, was inserted in her mouth. Dozens of IV's were connected to her arms and legs. Sigma was standing above her. His voice didn't have any emotions.

"IV's and the tube will keep you alive for a long time. The tube is connected to a water tap. We will continue to pay the water bill. IV's will work one at a time. When one IV will become empty, the nutrition mix will flow from the next one. We did everything, to make everyone think, that you moved away, after realizing, that you abused your younger sibling. No one would search for you. Goodbye. Rot in Hell."

Sigma left. The light went off. The door was closed.

She was left alone.

And no one would come.

_____

You were sitting on Nikolai's shoulders, looking around at your new home. You pat Nikolai's head.

"Uncle Kolya, Uncle Sigma, am I really can stay here?"

Nikolai smiled, looking up.

"Of course, kiddo. Your Sissy said, that she was mistaken, and you were a good kid all this time. So, she wants you to live in a house of good kids! Just, don't forget, that you must go to a nice mister and talk about your nightmares. Okay?"

You nodded. Sigma, who was walking near Kolya, raised his hand to pet you on a head.

"Don't worry, [Y/N]. We will protect you. You are our Little Spark."

_____

¹. Ukrainian "Wake up the others. We need water, porridge, medicine, a warm shower. And few hundred bullets for however did this to the child."

[hyper-pixels]

How to Grow Up

A guide on how to grow up. It was originally posted by @/friendliness but half the links were broken. So I took what links weren't broken and added other links and more things to know.

This is USA based resources

Personal

Reasons to Stay Alive – A Tumblr post of 116 reasons to stay alive by @/friendliness.

How to Get Better At Asking for Help – Website is Harvard Business Review. The article is “5 Ways to Get Better At Asking for Help” by Wayne Baker.

What to do if you Can’t Afford Therapy – Website is Psych Central and the article is by Steven Rowe.

How to Quit Smoking – “The 22 Best Ways to Quit Smoking” by Debra L. Gordon and David L. Katz M.D. from the Healthy Digest.

How to Legally Change your Name – Website is Forbes.

Wanna Learn Something New? – A Tumblr post made by @/hamletthedane with various new things to try from language learning to ballet.

Free Harvard Courses – Harvard University’s free online courses.

Getting a New Computer? – A quick and dirty comprehensive guide by WIRED on what to look for.

How to Sew – Website is Autodesk Indestructibles. The article is “How to Sew” by Jessyratfink. Having a small sewing kit (that you can pick up from nearly any craft store) is super handy and has saved my life and clothes.

What to Look For in Clothes – A YouTube video by Alyssa Beltempo titled “How to Identify High Quality vs. Poor Quality Clothing | Slow Fashion”. Here’s a WikiHow [x] if a YouTube video isn’t your style.

Home

What’s a mortgage? – Website is realtor.com and the page is called “What is a Mortgage? Home Loan Basics Explained” by Cathie Ericson.

First Apartment Checklist – A checklist PDF. Here’s another link to a Tumblr checklist [x] 

What to Ask Landlords Before Renting? – “25 Questions To Ask a Landlord When Renting a Home” by Morgen Henderson.

What’s Renter’s Insurance? – Website is Forbes Advisor. The article is by Jason Metz and titled “How to Get Renters Insurance”.

Plant Care – A master list of how to care for plants made by @/difficults

Job

Time Management – Website is Entrepenuer and has 10 time management tips. One I personally recommend is keeping a physical calendar book on hand. I keep mine in my bag with a designated pen.

Finding the right job – Website is The Muse and it has 13 free career assessment tests.

Make a resume – Website is Resume Now. Many hirers look at your name, the middle of the page (where your experience list is) and skim the rest.

Job Interview Tips – Website is Linkedin. The article is titled “10 Job Interview Tips to Land The Career of Your Dreams” by Caren Merrick.

How to Write a Cover Letter – Website is The Writing Center. University of Winsconsin, Madison. It’s titled “Writing Cover Letters” and I can’t find the author.

Money

Couponing! – Website is Coupon Database :: Southern Savers. It has a list of mobile apps for coupons to places.

Call 211 for Help – the website leads to 211.org. It's anonymous and can help you get connected to food programs, paying bills and things like doctor appointments. Here’s a Tumblr post about it [x] by @/poessionisamyth

Groceries! – This is a Tumblr meme post, but scrolling through tags/reblogs/replies and there’s plenty of good tips. The post is by @/charlotten

What To Do if You Can’t Pay Your Bills – Website is Nolo. The article is “When You Can’t Pay Your Bills: Thiings To Know” that was updated by Amy Loftsgordon. 

Are You Paying Too Much for Your Phone Bill? – An article by Beht Beverman titled “How Much is Too Much to Pay for a Cell Phone Bill?”.

54 Ways to Save Money – Website is America Saves.

How to Do Taxes – Website is Wiki-How.

The 70/20/10 Method – Website is Business Insider. The Article is “A Beginners Guide to the 70-20–10 Budgeting Method” by Paul Kim.

Side Hustle Ideas – Website is Forbes. “30 Side Hustle Ideas To Make Extra Money In 2024” by Krista Fabregas.

Emergency

Your Rights When a Cop Pulls you Over – Website is Business Insider. Cops are allowed to lie to you, and they will, so be careful.

Hotline List – The website is DoSomething.org. Depression/Suicide, domestic abuse, child abuse and runaway/homeless/and at-risk youth hotlines.

What to Keep in Your Car – Website is MentalFloss. I live in a snowy area that gets blizzards and bad ice. I keep blankets, water and other aids in my car as well as a knife and road flare. I also own a self jumping car battery and it has saved my ass more than once. Heimlich Maneuver – A one minute video by the Mayo Clinic.

The Heimlich Maneuver on Yourself – A one minute video by The List Show TV.

What to Keep in Your Wallet – Website is PureWow. The article is by Rachel Bowie. Keep your drivers license, medical insurance card, and an emergency contact in your card. If you have a pet home alone make sure that you have a card detailing this. Free printable one here [x]

Traveling

Packing List – Website is Smarter Travel.

Traveling with Little to No Money – Website is Nomadic Matt.

How to Pack a Suitcase – Website is Real Simple. The article is by Thersa O’Rourke.

How to Apply for a Passport – Website is WikkiHow.

Making a Travel Budget – Website is Travel Made Simple. “How to Make a Travel Budget” by Ali Garland

[myoddessy]

soft launches are out?? | george clarkey

summary— where a household name of uk youtube meets an awkward comedian through a mutual friend and chaos ensues (bruna marquezine fc!)

December 2022

January 2023

liked by bambinobecky, calfreezy, taliamar, and 1,982,372 others

yourusername the 2022 cosmetic year-in review is out! i talk you through my makeup and skincare routines with my new holy grails as well as covering some products i'd recommend staying away from! 💞

wroetoshaw cheers, I'll keep the skincare tips in mind

yourusername you need it

wroetoshaw never contact me again

yourusername gladly ❤️

yn2sfan ship!!

ynslover disgusting.

faithlouisak best part of the year 💕💕

gkbarry amazing as always babes 😘

yourusername ❤

ynfanpage you look so pretty omg 😭

w2sdmn the fact that you used actually affordable products instead of smth that costs half a mortgage >>>

March 2023

liked by arthurtv, imalexx, freyanightingale, and 2,001,283 others

yourusername in honour of the first travel diaries episode in a year, have a little ibiza and madrid dump 💞

gkbarry my tan's fading already. criminal.

yourusername i'll take you back soon xx

gkbarry love u, sugar mummy ❤

max_balegde i feel like i'm intruding.....

gkbarry you are.

max_balegde you should all follow me after you watch this (pin this)

max_balegde i feel wounded and ignored.

ynsbabygirl OMG MORE SOFT LAUNCH CONTENT

ynily the height difference im inconsolable

wroetominter alexa play that should be me by justin bieber

yourusername just posted a story !

liked by myoddessy, lewisbuchan, taliamar, and 2,301,720 others

yourusername was nobody gonna tell me soft launches are out??

tagged: georgeclarkeey

georgeclarkeey ❤❤

imallexx thank god, it was getting a bit boring

yourusername hush

imallexx don't take away my rights

myoddessy @whoetoshaw OMG????

whoetoshaw WE CALLED IT.

ynxclarkeyy OMG PARENTS FR

[g-xix]

Sidemen NSFW Alphabet | JJ Olatunji

Girl don't get in debt offering your life out for smut 😭😭. That being said I have just put my mortgage on the line for the Lionesses against Spain, and we did in fact lose. Devastating news. Cheer myself up w a JJ pic tho:

THAT'S THAT FINE MF I BE WRITING FOR 📢📢📢 Alr, enjoy the alphabet tho n suggest who's next xox (link to Harry's NSFW alphabet)

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

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex) Both of you are so blissed out afterwards that he can't even think about getting up to do anything. I feel like his style of aftercare is just spending time together afterwards. Once that horny-brain mindset has worn off he's back to just adoring you and sticks to you like un-floured dough on your fingers- hugging you 'round the waist, cuddling and watching movies, pressing little kisses against your face and telling you how much he loves you...

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's) He absolutely loves his cock. Yeah, fat surprise that one. Loves his cock just out of pride for what it can do and the effects it has on you. And despite saying he's an ass guy, I feel like he's lowkey a tits guy. Or he loves them both equally. Either way- seeing either of them is always a massive turn on. Loves seeing your ass in leggings and always needs to whack it and run when he sees you bent over- but equally also loves just resting a hand on a titty when you two are just sat down cuddling. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) I think he literally loves seeing his cum on you or in you. Something about it is so weirdly hot for him. I think me most likes finishing in your mouth though- literally asking for you to stick your mouth open afterwards so he can see it on your tongue, before swallowing. Something about that feels so weird in hindsight as he gets his post-nut clarity, but in the moment it feels too hot not to do.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) One time whilst doing missionary he spotted a sort of protrusion in your stomach which caused him to stop for a moment in pure surprise, having never seen that in his life. Pulled out slightly so that he could examine it more, but noticed that as he pulled away it disappeared. Thrusting back in, it reappeared- and placing his hand over your stomach, he realised that it was his cock inside you that he was seeing- the tip pressing against your inside and causing that little bump. Something about that turned him on so much that now every time you do missionary he keeps one hand on that bottom bit of your stomach, unbelievably turned on at the feeling of his dick through your tummy each time he thrusted.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?) I think he's made it quite clear he knows what he's doing, and I believe every word he's said about it. He knows exactly what to do and probably knows the ins and outs of your body by heart- all the places that'll have you moaning so loud the neighbours are sick of hearing JJ's name.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Probably missionary just because of how the two of you have slowly adapted it to make it the best. Pillow under your ass so that he hits all the positions you need him in, he can wrap his hand around your neck to choke you how you always like it, and best for him, he gets to see your face and tits each time he thrusts...

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) I think your minds are too horny-filled to think about cracking a joke. All of that comes after the deed, when the two of you are spending quality time cuddling.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) There's hair there but it doesn't matter. He keeps it clean +  grooms it so that it doesn't become overgrown

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Fuck intimacy. He likes being able to make eye contact and speak to you, suree... But it isn't like he's trying to make it romantic. Fuck. That. This man is trying to get as rough, sexy and passionate as it gets. All the romantic loving comes in the aftercare- whilst doing the deed- he isn't focussed on being romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) As much as the two of you like sex with one another, you also appreciate that sometimes j jacking off is the vibe. Thing is, JJ never wears earphones when he's watching something on his laptop with lotion in his hand- so if you're in the next room- you're hearing exactly what he's hearing.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Lowkey loves choking. He's generally more dominant and he loves just wrapping a hand around your throat whilst in missionary- gently squeezing the sides, looking down and seeing you with your hands wrapped around his own- almost begging him to apply more pressure. Something about it is just so sensual to him and always turns him on more

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Literally has zero shame. He likes doing it in the bedroom, sure, but something it just so hot about the thought of doing it somewhere he know the two of you shouldn't. The first time he'd had you bent over the kitchen worktop of the new apartment, he realised he wanted to do that shit in every position, in every possible place in the apartment. And it doesn't stop in the apartment. Wherever he could, he would do it with you. The car, hotels, hot tubs- sometimes you wondered whether he was a bit of an exhibitionist.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) It isn't hard for him to get turned on. But generally, it's just seeing you in even a slightly suggestive position, and his mind starts wondering. His motivation is thinking "Hey, we've never had sex here", and suddenly he's got you bent over the kitchen worktable with his head between your thighs. 

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs) Pretty down to experiment, but wouldn't try anything properly weird like scat or piss. Would assume that was a joke if it was ever even mentioned, because there's no way he'd do that

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Doesn't mind giving head, but receiving it is a completely different type of pleasure for him. I'd imagine he would say on Sidecast "My girlfriend gives the most MINDBLOWING HEAD", which makes everyone on set crack up, but JJ wouldn't be joking at all. This man has his hands clenched on the bedsheet or on the back of your head, unbelievably blissed out which your head wrapped around his cock. Isn't generally very loud or makes many noises whilst fucking- but whilst getting head, he's virtually shouting his moans.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Depends on the mood, but I think fast and rough is the way to go. As said- aftercare is when JJ loves being all soft, but whilst doing the deed I reckon it's a completely different ball game

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) I reckon he loves them. Loves anything to do with sex, and something like a quickie that adds a bit of risk, he's all up for. Plus he always gets kinda turned on seeing you in work attire, and so he always tries to sneak in a quickie before you have to leave for work

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) I think something about risks actually turns him on. Doing it somewhere he knows he shouldn't is like an achievement and he wants to do it everywhere he can. Would he take a risk like going no condom and relying on the pullout game, though? HELL NO. He may be stupid sometimes but he isn't stupid enough to take risks that harmful to the two of you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) He's really physically fit, so I'm tempted to say that he could go multiple rounds. Plus oftentimes, he's so blissed out and turned on at the same time that even after he's cum he wants to go another round just because he's THAT horny for it

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Sidemen literally BUY this man toys on videos. OF COURSE HE USES THEM. Often times just tries them once to see how they are, but has kept a few just based on how good they are. Probably finds you after using it and explains whether it's shit or whether "I don't think I've ever felt such convincing silicon in my lie"

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) I think he'd love teasing. Little bit of making you wait it out, having you beg- he knows it only makes it even better when he finally gives it to you- and he uses that to make the both of your orgasms just that much better

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Probably some low noises like groaning. I think he's deffo one to talk during sex, and I think he leans more towards degrading than praising. He used to praise more, but you admitted you kinda liked degrading and wanted to try it... Initially he was really bad because he didn't know how to say anything that was degrading but not genuinely mean- but once he started getting into it, the two of you REALLY started getting into it. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Has probably tried roleplay before. One Halloween the two of you dressed together in a couples or a matching outfit, and whilst clearing a few years later, you found them again. One thing led to another and you agreed to try roleplay in them. I think JJ would've taken roleplaying seriously because he was actually turned on by the idea, but you couldn't stop breaking character and laughing because it was too much for you. Ended up just taking off the outfits and having sex without roleplaying, even though JJ discovered a new kink that day

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes) Probably big. Around seven to eight inches, average width. He's been CONSISTENT in calling himself a grower not a shower and icl i think I believe it. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) So mf high. Literally, he'll just be doing something and then the thought of sex crosses his mind and suddenly- BAM- he's got a hard-on and is coming to you. Doesn't help the fact he's so attracted to you that he can't see you do anything remotely sexual without his mind wandering.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Doesn't fall asleep afterwards, probs in a good mood afterwards. Can go and get on with his day if it's a pre-work quickie, or if it's post-work, then he'll just spend time with you- cuddling and spoiling you with his love 

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Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I asked for a lock on my door?

The family recently-ish moved to a new house, and my bedroom doesn't have a locking doorknob. My old bedroom did, and while I wasn't allowed to lock it, it was nice to have the option. However, as an adult who, despite my best efforts that I really don't want to go into for fear of rambling, hasn't been able to get money or go places for months and likely the foreseeable future as well, getting a new knob to replace the one on my door is something I would need to ask my parents about.

Considering the fact that I'm an adult old enough to legally drink, I'm worried this will come across as me wanting Mommy and Daddy to do evewyting fow me because I'm sooo hewpwess 🥺, when the reality is that I'm wholly, unwillingly dependent on my parents for everything when I should have been able to at least drive myself to work or to visit friends for nearly a decade now. Can't learn to do a thing if your short-tempered parent stakes a claim on being the one to teach you, never teaches you, and gets angry when you suggest learning elsewhere!

…sorry bout that. All that to say, I can tell I'm chafing under my situation, but I can't tell whether or not I'm justified in doing so. I also can't tell whether or not I'm blowing this whole doorknob thing out of proportion. Logically, it's just a doorknob. In an otherwise-neutral situation, either it's a little thing of no consequence, or it's part of a fundamental human right…it's just that that right may or may not apply to me since my name's not on the mortgage. Not my house, not my rules, after all.

(And, yes, before anyone brings it up, I am working on remedying…literally everything I brought up outside the actual doorknob dilemma, I promise. It's just extremely slow going atm, and I've gone lockless for 2 years now. The lock thing would just be a quick little thing to fix at least a little bit right away while I'm chugging away at the rest. I'd rather focus on the lock here, unless anybody has some tips or tricks for becoming a sneaky teen in your 20s that they'd be willing to share.)

So, uh…WIBTA for asking for a lock on my door?

What are these acronyms?

[olympeline]

FrUK FACE family Parent Trap AU, part 7! Part 1

So, Alfred and Matthew made a successful switcheroo and are now living with their other respective dads. The first few days for both of them just pass in a whirlwind of new experiences: new sights, new sounds, new smells, new surroundings. Alfred and Mattie struggle to take it all in, but in a good way. And, of course, at the centre of it all is Francis and Arthur. It’s tricky being around them because the twins want to get to know them so badly but they can’t act like it because that would be weird. Alfred in particular has to dash out of the house to go run around with Mr. Kumajiro a couple of times because the need was getting too much. Francis notices “Mattie” has become more energetic, but accepts Alfred’s excuse that he got really into sports at camp. It’s not such a stretch since Matthew has always been outdoorsy anyway and Francis puts it down to his little boy growing up. Wine, misty eyes, and a long purusing of their family photo album once Alfred has gone to bed that night. Francis may be a suburban dad now with a mortgage and PTA meetings, but he sees no point in life if one can’t be dramatic every once in a while ;)

Then, Summer is over, and the twins have to go back to school. Alfred to Matthew’s fancy private school, and Matthew to Alfred’s normal NYC public school. Alfred puts on his uniform (urgh, monkey suit! Didn’t his dad used to wear something like this?) and is surprised when Francis drives him to school rather than let him walk or get the bus. The school is pretty close, but Francis does it anyway. He’s chill about things like Alfred’s earring, but then pivots and is overprotective about stuff like Matthew getting to school alone. Weird. Meanwhile, Mattie braces himself for the journey on the subway. Arthur is generally stricter than Francis, but he trusts “Alfred” to make his own way to school right through the heart of New York? Weird.

School for both of them goes about as well as it could. Alfred has a lot of friends and Mattie is immediately swept up in their hustle and bustle. Acting up in class pains him, but he has to do it to maintain the illusion. Alfred isn’t a bad kid, but he is a loud and energetic one. Matthew does his best (cringing inside) but his teachers still comment on his good behaviour. Mattie is worried…until he goes home and sees how pleased Arthur is. The teacher messaged him and Arthur couldn’t be prouder “Alfred” is taking school more seriously. Mattie can’t feel too bad about it then. Not after seeing his dad smile. Until Arthur bakes them some cakes to celebrate.

It’s a curse, Mattie thinks to himself as he struggles to chew through the charcoal without his eyes watering. A satanic curse. It must be, eh?

Meanwhile, Alfred does his best to keep up his Mattie act in his new “ooh, la, la” (his words) private school environment. Matthew is a model student, behaviour wise, and warned Alfred that he can’t get in trouble even a little or people will suspect. This is not easy for Alfred. Even less because Matthew is also a loner, so he has noone to help distract him from the boredom. It’s not that the other kids dislike Matthew, rather they just don’t seem to notice him. The teachers appreciate how well behaved he is but they also tend to forget he exists. Again, extremely not easy for extroverted, vivacious Alfred. He can’t keep his exuberance fully under control and it’s a shocker moment for the class when their geography teacher has to tell Matthew Bonnefoy to pay attention for the first time ever(!) Haha, oops. At least they didn’t call Francis. Yet.

The twins have kept in contact and message each other frequently for hints and tips, and (in Alfred’s case) reminders about French vocabulary. They have a long talk about school after the first week and Mattie is irritated and stung when Alfred thoughtlessly comments on his lack of friends. Matthew snipes back about how happy Arthur was when the teacher complimented “Alfred” on his behaviour. Something which gets to Alfred more than he likes to admit. The boys end their talk early that night and both go to bed feeling ruffled.

The next morning when Matthew wakes up, he comes down to breakfast (🥲) as usual. Only to freeze in the kitchen doorway when he sees who’s making it. Arthur is sitting at the table, reading the paper news he still refuses to trade in for an app. At the stove, cooking omlettes that actually smell good, is:

“Buenos días, Al! You want two eggs or three?”

Mattie recognizes the handsone spaniard from the pictures Alfred showed him. His work trip done, Tony is back.

(Life has been busy so here’s a shorter update. Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for part 8 (´ε｀ )♡)

[mortgageloanontario]

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[blackholemojis]

(not a request)

Hai! As someone trying to experiment with AACs, I can't find an optimal and conveniently organized word list, can you please share any tips for that?

Unfortunately I've had the same problem when trying to make my own AAC boards, as well as with running this blog. There are some general essentials though, I've made some of them and tagged them with #blackholemojis basics, if you want to look through those.

Other than that, I can really only share the types of words I put into my own AAC boards first. I haven't found a convenient and well organized word list anywhere :(

Under the cut though I'll put a lot more words you could include in your AAC, if you want to check that out! I'll update it as I think of more

Basic words

Yes, no, maybe, I don't know, something else, probably, stop, go, I consent, I don't consent

What, when, who, where, why, how

Good, bad, better, worse, best, worst, same, different, alright

Basic activities of daily living

Hygiene: bathe, clean teeth, style hair, wash face, etc

Dressing: get dressed, get undressed, clothing, tops, bottoms

Eating: eat, drink, swallow, chew, breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack

Bathroom: use the bathroom, pee, poop, wipe off, wash hands

Transferring/mobility: walk, stand up, sit down, lay down, transfer to mobility aid, transfer out of mobility aid

Instrumental activities of daily living

Communication: speak, text/message, computer, phone, email, video call, write, call

Transportation: picked up, dropped off, drive, ride, bike, walk, take the bus, take the train, carpool

Meal prep: cook, bake, heat up, prepare food, plan meals, clean up kitchen, put away food

Shopping/finances: shop, buy, sell, donate, pay, write a check, manage balance, wallet, bank account, make a deposit, budget, pay bills, pay insurance, pay mortgage

Housework: do laundry, do dishes, dust, vacuum, sweep, mop, clean, fold, organize, take out the garbage

Medication: take meds, refill meds, order meds refill

Short words

Hello, goodbye, please, thank you, you're welcome, sorry, I forgive you

Do, don't, done, did, will, won't, could, can, can't, should, shouldn't, is, isn't, was, wasn't, were, weren't, want, like, dislike,

Now, later, soon, earlier, today, tomorrow, yesterday

And, a, an, the, or, which, if, so, then, because

Leave, come, walk, run, give, take, throw, catch, move, stay, find, lose, say, mean, think, let, need, want, help, belong, start, finish

I/me/myself, mine, you/yours/yourself, this person, she/her/hers, he/him/his, they/them/theirs, it/its/itself

Essential activities

Eat, sleep, wake up, use the bathroom, drink

Major senses

See, touch, taste, smell, hear, sense, feel

Places

Home, work, school, house, apartment, trailer, park, grocery store, clothing store, daycare, college, religious center

Health

Sick/ill, fever, nauseous, stuffy nose, runny nose

Scratch, burn, cut, bruise, broken bone, concussion

Hospital, doctor's office, dentist's office

Any other specific conditions or symptoms you have, physically or mentally

Any mobility aids you use

Other descriptor groups

Colors, temperature, size, amount, directions/location, time, body parts, family/friend names, relations (grandma, neighbor), emotions, pets, objects/belongings, weather

[scrupulosity-comics]

Currently working 2 jobs. My “main” job is one that I care about but which pays like shit. My second job pays more than double my other job, but it’s a weird gig thing and not my passion.

Job #2 mainly involves rich clients and costs them a hell of a lot of money (which I still only see a fraction of). Every now and then I get a poor client who can barely pay for the service and are only hiring me as a last resort out of desperation. What I’ve been doing so far has been… well, lying about the amount of time it takes me to provide a service so that they are charged the minimum amount, even if it means working for free for several hours. Obviously my bosses would not be happy about this if they knew, but I don’t want my labor to be the reason someone can’t pay their bills or buy groceries or take their kid to the dentist.

So far this has been fine. 9 out of 10 of my clients have been upper middle class to wealthy. Charging these clients the honest amount means I can afford the occasional low cost gig… but lately more and more of my clients have been poor, taking money out of their mortgage or grocery bills to pay me, and I’m not sure how much longer I can afford to fudge my hours.

But like. Do I quit? It feels insane to give up the best-paying job I’m likely to ever have, but as soul-draining as a night shift at the car wash would be, at least it’s not going to directly trigger morality spirals that I’m taking food out of babies’ mouths. I already have so many hangups about receiving money (I used to have a kofi and would compulsively refund all the tips I got, lmao) I’m not sure I’m mentally stable enough to continue working a job in which I am directly paid by clients who need but cannot afford my services.