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[linkclickssmallseotoll]

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[cvguys]

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[nanivinsmoke]

✩ Watch.

✩ dbf!toji x fem!reader

being caught masturbating by your dad’s best friend was a life altering experience, but when he finds out what you were thinking about….he wants to do more than watch.

✩ tags: solo masturbating, age gap (toji just turned 40), voyerism, mentions of porn, dom toji, sub reader, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, reader is in her mid 20s, squirting, creampies and so much more.

note: on my wolverine/hugh jackman era, but I still love my husband toji. also the reader lives with her dad while he place is under construction.

you swallowed thickly, heart beating out of your chest as you watched the man take small strides to the foot of your bed; to get a good look out you.

you were caught, there was no other way around it.

your eyes dropped from his honey colored ones, trailing down and stopping at his muscular torso, where you could see how glazed they looked due to him sweating—illuminated by the one lamp you had turned on.

he and your dad were busy chopping fire wood in the backyard, laughing and drinking beers as they shared their old stories with one another. but, when toji had to use the bathroom, your dad asked for him to check on you, you hadn’t come out of your room since you got home from work and he wanted to make sure you were okay. that’s how he ended up in your room and from what he saw, you were more than okay.

“what were you watching there, doll? hm?” he nodded towards your closed laptop and you fidgeted in your spot, adding to your embarrassment. “porn…” a smirk formed on his scarred lips and he lightly tapped the bottom of your bed frame.

an idea popped into his head and you could see the gears moving, before he looked around your room and found a chair—pulling it to your bed before sitting down on it. your cheeks were hot and your mind was running rampant, surely he wasn’t…

“did ya get to cum?” he asked and you shook your head. before he came in your were close, so very close, but that stopped when he caught you.

“well then, don’t let me stop you. go ahead” he looked at you then down at the pink vibrator that was right beside you. you pressed your thighs together, that familiar throbbing sensation appearing down below.

you looked at him and could tell her wasn’t going to move and that he was serious, your heart was pounding in your chest. your dad’s best friend, the man you fantasized about ever since you came back, was going to watch you masturbate. you bit your lip and opened up your laptop, resuming the video on the porn site—before grabbing your vibrator and pressing it to your clit, turning it on.

you bit your lip, suppressing the moans that desperately wanted to leave your mouth—keeping focus on the lewd video that was playing and not on the hunk sitting in your chair.

“you were louder than that doll, i heard you. show me how loud you can get.” His voice was deep and sultry, making you let a whimper; one that he heard. the smirk on his face got wider and winked at you, making your cunt gush.

you kept your eyes on the screen, your arousal growing by the minute—his emerald eyes watching your every move. watching how your face was scrunched up and your mouth was agape; while the fat pink vibration stayed on your puffy clit; splashing with your wetness.

the more you watched and left the toy on your clit, the more aroused you became and those sweet noises that left you mouth were the perfect melody to the older man. you squeezed your eyes shut, no longer needing the porn to fuel you as your imagination ran wild.

you were thinking about him, his tongue replacing the toy on your clit while his thick fingers pumped in and out of your sopping cunt, working multiple orgasms out of you back to back—then positioning himself right at your entrance, fucking you senselessly into the mattress.

toji leaned forward, watching as you lifted up your shirt—pinching your perky nipples, while moving the vibrator around on your clit. the sounds of your wetness pooling and echoing through the room due to the toy had him palming his cock through his jeans—desperately wanting to be free.

you could feel yourself on the brink of an orgasm, you pinched your nipples hard and turned the vibrator up a notch; yet it was unable to overpower your sweet moans. whatever your dad was doing, you hoped he stayed occupied with that—keeping him from coming upstairs.

toji watched as slick pooled out of you, your hands clinching the grey sheets underneath you, as your orgasm came crashing down on you. a series of moans left your lips, while you kept the toy on your clit—legs trying stay open while you came. once you finally had enough, you turned the toy off and tossed it aside; opening your eyes up and catching your breath—his eyes locked on yours.

“such a good girl. g’na tell me what your were thinking about over there? saw you muttering something~” he rose an eyebrow and your bottom lip went right between your teeth, again.

“you. i was thinking about you…” his eyes darkened and you could see him grip his crotch, your cunt clenching at nothing. toji got up from his seat and walked to the side of your bed, before sitting on the side of it. you gulped and watched as he ogled at your half naked body; your cunt throbbing the more he stared at you.

and then, he leaned over you, pressing those scarred lips against yours—making you melt into your mattress. his big hands immediately went to your cunt, thick fingers coated in your wetness; while your thighs parted further—giving him more access to her.

“so wet…this what you were thinking about, hm? me playing with this pretty pussy?” he spanked your clit, making you yelp out; which was followed by a moan. you nodded and he let out a chuckle, sticking two thick digits in your hole; your slick drenching his fingers.

he repositioned himself between your legs, now eye level with your cunt, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip before diving head first; immediately lapping up your juices. your small hand went immediately for his raven locks, gripping them as he ate you out. eyes crossed while your lips parted, mewls spilling out as he worked wonders on your sensitive cunt.

“f-fuck! toji—g’na cum,” he said nothing, the only sound you could be heard was the lewd sounds of him sucking and slurping on your pussy and juices. he hummed and pushed his two fingers back into your needy hole, speeding up your orgasm. your grip on hair got tight and you rolled your hips against his tongue, riding out your second orgasm on his face.

toji stayed between your legs for a little longer, slurping up what you could push out before he lifted his head, licking your juices off his lips. you sat up and watched as he got off your bed, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down, leaving him in black briefs—which followed his jeans; revealing his heavy cock.

you swallowed, keeping your eyes on his fat leaking cock, wondering what the hell were you getting yourself into. he got on the bed with you, sitting behind you, pulling you into his lap—cock pressed right on your cunt; making u moan softly.

“you can take it. i got you mamas,” he reassured you, lifting you up slightly and angling himself at your entrance; before pushing himself in.

The both of you let out a noise, a gasp from you and a groan from him. he stretched your walls past its normal limit and as you looked down—you saw that he wasn’t all the way in, and you whimpered.

“don’t get scared now, been thinking about this pussy since I came by; just like I know you you’ve been thinking about me—can see it in your eyes…” you let out a scream, his dick was now fully inside of you; kissing your cervix.

he pulled your head back and locked eyes with you, smirk painted on his chiseled face, “any louder and your father’s g’na come up and here and catch me balls deep in his daughter’s sweet pussy.” his lips connected with yours, suppressing the moans that wanted to leave your mouth, while he gripped your hips and slowly started to move you up and down on his length.

the more you took him, the more you you craved to have him dump his load inside of you; you desperately needed that. the pain that came with him stretching you out with his fat cock had washed away and was replaced with sheer pleasure—making your cunt gush with each bounce.

your eyes fluttered over to the mirror in front of you, taking in your reflection and watching as his cock piston’d in and out of your soppy wet cunt; a squelching noise accompanying your sweet moans that filled the air. his eyes followed yours and he growled, looking at how much of your slick had coated his cock—a nice white sheen painting it.

the more he helped you bounce on his dick, the more he fell in love. he loved how fucked out you looked in the mirror, how your eyes rolled back when his tip brushed against a certain part, how you started to babble his name—begging for more of his cock. he was getting addicted to you, just like you were with him.

toji could feel you clench down on him, tightening your walls—letting him know how close you were.

“go ahead pretty girl. look in the mirror and watch how you cum for me~” you let out a whine, eyes rolling back, hands falling to your side—cumming all over his cock. toji grunted, watching you through the mirror, trying so hard to not burst inside of you—not yet at least.

as you were riding out your high, you were caught by surprise when toji changed positions on you—putting you face first into the mattress, repositioning himself inside of you. “wait! wait, im still—fuckkk!” he plunged himself deep inside of you before proceeding to drill you into your soft bed.

your ass wobbled and clapped against the older man’s pelvis, his girth splitting your cunt open with each powerful stroke. the more he pounded the more your second orgasm built up, and so was his. his balls were full and ready to explode inside of you—ready to paint your walls a pretty shade of white.

“please….please cum inside me! please daddy, fill me up—fuck!” you cursed, begging him to release inside you—desperately wanting to be filled up by him, so you could be his personal cum dump. he let out a chuckle, he had you mind fucked in just a matter of minutes and he knew that your body would only crave him after today.

toji grunted, gripping your hips, slamming himself deep inside—cocking twitching the more your walls spasmed around him. and with a few more strokes, he couldn’t help but to unleash his load inside of you—spurting out milky white ropes; filling you to the brim. he kept fucking you while his cum continued to pool inside of you, causing a more intense orgasm to course through you.

specks of white blurred your vision, gripping your sheets below you as you let go—squirting all over his dick, shocking you both. he quickly pulled out, his seed dripping out before he plugged his fingers into your hole—fingering your cunt rapidly; pushing out more of the clear fluid from your body.

all you could do was lie there and take it, your body being drained of its fluids, before he removed his thick digits—making you whine in response.

“don’t worry doll, imma get your dad to leave the house—so i can turn that cunt every which way but loose~” he sent a smack to your plump ass before putting his jeans back on, placing a kiss on your forehead before leaving the room. as the raven haired male descended down the stairs, he was met by your dad who was just about to come up.

“oh, i was just about to come up and see if you were alright.”

“those tacos i had earlier fucked my stomach up. your daughter’s fine, but she wanted you to pick up a couple things from the store. she needs lots of water….”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You've had a crush on your best friend for years, but you're slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: please enjoy the first chapter!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“No, no, not the pink, red,” you cup your hand over your ear pod, “exactly what it says on the order sheet.” 

Were anyone to see you, sitting in the dirt, with a brush in hand, all alone, they might think you’re a bit out there. You, talking to the air, dusting off a clump of soil, orchestrating your own voice with the bristles. You dip your head as you focus on what the voice in your ear is saying. 

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” you argue, “I put in the order weeks ago. A red bow. I have the receipt– I mean sure, pink or red doesn’t matter to me but it’s not my birthday.” 

“We’ll see what we can do,” the woman relents. It’s not exactly a triumph but as close to as you can hope. If it’s pink, you’ll just have to take the fall. The damn fondant will be devoured by the night’s end anyhow. 

You hang up with a double tap on the ear pod and your playlist resumes. You go back to trying to uncover the shape caked in layers of muck, turning the brush to chip away the rougher bits with the pointed tip. The work is tedious but it has to be. You can’t risk damaging the relic nestled inside. 

The abrupt chiming of your ringtone once more sounds through the bluetooth earpiece. You huff and hit the pod with the heel of your hand. You greet the call with only your name. 

“Are you still on site?” Your boss, Arturo asks. 

“Yep, still here,” you still your hand and twist your arm, pulling back the end of your glove to see your watch, “just a bit longer. You know I have that thing tonight.” 

“Uh, yes, I recall,” he says dully as you hear paper shuffling, “you got time to chat?” 

“Sure,” you keep the cluster of dirt and the brush in one hand and use your other to push yourself to your feet, “I just gotta catalogue this before I finish the day.” 

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” he begins as you carefully walk between the cordoned off patches. The whole place is a maze of where and where not to step. You go into the tent and put down the half uncovered idol. It’s brittle, made of hide and yew, with a bit of bone. “Lucia is pregnant.” 

“Oh? That’s great,” you furrow your brow, wondering what that has to do with you. 

“Means she can’t travel for a while. She’s adverse to long term commitments at the moment so…” 

“So…” you trail off as you label the mound of dirt and make notes for the next day. 

“So, you want her assignment?” 

“Which one?” You peel off your gloves and shake off the excess filth. 

“Norway. It can be a bit dingy but the landscape is nice.” 

“Norway? For how long?” You close up the ledger and tuck it away on the shelf. You pass between the tables of artifacts as you pull out your phone. 

“Could be a while but I figured you never get to go very far. You’ve been pent up in-state for so long, you could use the vacation.” 

“Oh? Well, I…” you scroll through your phone and see the notifications. Emails confirming delivery, messages asking if everything is sorted. “I’d have to think about it…” 

It’s evasion more than indecision. You know you don’t want to go. You can’t go. Your whole life is here. You have an apartment and friends and… Steve. Your best friend.  

“Make sure you do think about it. It’s a great opportunity. Especially for a junior anthropologist. Lucia won’t be on leave forever.” 

“I know. I’ll think about it.” 

You hang up and pluck the earbud out. Ugh, you’re covered in dirt and dust. You don’t have time to go home and shower. You knew you wouldn’t. You have to be at the venue before everyone else. You can change there and try to wash up in the sink. Whatever, no one’s going to be looking at you anyway. It’s Peggy’s night. Yay. 

You lock the fence and tug one last time to make sure it’s secure. You drag your boots across the thinning grass to your car parked on a stretch of gravel. You drop inside and hit start. You connect to the bluetooth and get some tunes going. You buckle your seat belt as you check the mirrors. You’re probably going to have to speed there. 

You back out as the music blares from the speakers. It’s not loud enough to drown out your thoughts. Why did you agree to this? Peggy doesn’t even like you. Oh, but she likes Steve. She is his girlfriend and you are only his best friend. You’re supportive. You keep your mouth shut and smile. 

Ugh. You squeeze the wheel until your knuckles hurt. You know why you offered to help plan the surprise. You’re pathetic but you’re not delusional. It meant you got more time with him. There hasn’t been much of that since Peggy came along, not just the two of you. 

Classic, isn’t it? In love with your best friend. Friends since college. Friends forever, you vowed naively, thinking that forever would never come. Nothing lasts that long, you can only hope to outlast Peggy. 

And if you don’t, maybe this crush will finally run its course. 

💟

Red and white streamers decorate a long table set with trays. There’s a banner over it that reads ‘Happy Birthday, Peggy’, and a stack of gifts already forming in the corner. Guests drift in with anticipation as you hurry around to check off all the items on your list. 

You fix a small vase of flowers, trying to hide the droopy one in the back, and tug a wrinkle out of a tablecloth. You smile and wave at those who are early as you weave between them. You pull out your phone and lean it on the clipboard angle in the crook of your elbow. They’re on their way, okay. Keep it cool. 

As you come to the kitchen door, you nearly collide with someone else. Sam touches your arm gently as he keeps you from tripping backward. You gasp and hug the clipboard with a wobbly grin. 

“Hey,” you greet breathily, “you’re here.” 

You look down at the guest list and check him off. 

“Ah, figured I’d make an appearance,” he kids, “Rogers would take it pretty rough if his best pal wasn’t here.” 

“Please, don’t start that with Bucky again,” you warn as you point the pen in his direction, “the two of you, in fact, are seated separately.” 

“No fun!” He whines dramatically. 

You scrunch your lips at him and peer around. Yes, none of this has been fun. Caterers, servers, tables, space, food! Yes, you were going to check on the cake. Your sole squeaks as you twist sharply and go to slam your hand into the door. 

“Hey,” Sam blocks your way with his arm, “before you disappear, you’re still wearing your boots.” He points to your feet, “in case you’re wondering about the snail trail.” 

He sweeps his finger up in a gesture alluding to your previous path. You glance over at the dirt littered in your stead then down at your dusty boots. You sigh and hang your head back. 

“Fuck!” You snarl. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a broom,” he assures you, “while you take a breath. You need it.” 

“I can’t, Sam, they’re already on their way. I still have to get everyone in their place and… quiet,” you scowl, “ugh, this is gonna be so bad. I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“So… why’d you do it?” He asks as he drags his hand away from the doorframe. You look at him and blink slowly. You shrug. 

“I’m a good friend,” you insist. 

He gives a skeptical hum and nods, “sure are,” he grumbles, “too good, if you ask me.” 

You throw up your hand before turning into the kitchen. You don’t have time to worry about him. Is he jealous that you’re helping Steve so much? Or does he know something else? You don’t let the seed sprout as you nearly cry out at the sight of the cake. 

A pink bow. Jeez. Of course. You check the cake off your list, nearly tearing through the paper. It’s better than nothing, even if Peggy never settles for less than the best. 

There’s no time to complain or send it back. Your phone vibrates again. Five minutes. Your heart is racing. Why? This isn’t even your party. You just want it to be perfect for Steve. You hate to disappoint him. Ever. 

You really shouldn’t care that much but you do. Like so many other things in your life. 

💟

The crowd can't keep quiet. There's a low buzz that ripples through the guests. A wave of anticipation that's spread like a deadly virus. 

You feel a nudge in your side and peek over as Bucky sends Sam a sneer and wriggles in place. Those two never let up. You hiss at them to quit and they look as guilty as a pair of unruly children. 

"He keeps tickling me," Bucky whispers. 

"No, I'm tryna fix his hair, look at this mess," Sam flicks a strand away from Bucky's cheek, "this is a nice event, Buck, not your living room." 

"Both of you," you warn.  

"You're bitching at me when Indiana Jones here brought the dig with her," Bucky mutters. 

You look down. Dammit. You still didn't change out of your boots. You roll your eyes. It's not about you. It's Steve's night. Er, Peggy's.  

You shake out your nerves and shake your head, "you two," you step behind Bucky and insert yourself between the men, "behave." 

"Yes, mom," Sam snickers as Bucky groans and tries to smooth the few shanks that have slipped free of his low ponytail. 

You exhale and give an exasperated look to the door. You really can't handle them on top of everything else. You just want this night to end already. All your hard work and you won't even get to enjoy any of it. 

"Everybody," Natasha hisses as she runs away from the doorway, "they're coming." 

The group quiets, as much as they can, a collective bated breath as you wait and listen. The lull is unbearable as the heat of the bodies around you pricks sweat down your neck and across your scalp. The door begins to open, almost as if in slow motion, and as the guest of honour is revealed, you cry out. 

"SURPRISE!" The eruption of the chorus has your head spinning as Peggy gives a melodramatic swoon, grabbing at Steve's arm as she leans on him heavily. 

She parts only to fan her eyes and squeal. "Oh my god, you guys!"  

She teeters on her heels as people holler happy birthday and her group of girlfriends flutter over to wrap her up in a cacophony of giggles and preening. You smile, a bittersweet twitch in your cheek as you watch her spin back to Steve and pull him into a kiss.  

You're happy for them really, proud to see all your effort come to fruition, but you just feel so hollow. For an instant, you think it should be you right there, gushing in glee over the celebration of another year, with Steve beside you.  

You gulp down the jealousy and wiggle your nose to ward away the tears. That's a stupid thought. If it hasn't happened in more than a decade, it's not going to happen now. 

💟

As the guests disperse into their own conversations, you finally manage to wade through to the happy couple. You approach with a small wave at Steve. He doesn't see you, he's watching Peggy as she chats with Natasha. 

"Hi," you call above the din, "so, you like it?" 

Steve turns to you, confusion stitching his forehead before he registers your questions. He nods and gives a smile, "it's amazing, you did so good!" 

The sparkle in his eyes, the perfect line of his jaw, the way he's looking at you, it makes your heart rend. You tilt your head and dig your toe into the floor bashfully, "thanks. I'm so happy to see it come together." 

"Um, the cake," he brings his index finger up, "I was hoping to bring it out soon." 

"Er, yeah, it's back in the kitchen. About that–" 

"Great," he claps your shoulder and brushes by you, "just gonna put the finishing touches on it." 

"Hm, what do you–" 

He's gone before you can finish your question. You deflate just a little, setting your feet flat as you sway aimlessly. The motion hooks Peggy's attention. You give a sheepish smile as you wring your hands. 

"Oh, uh, just came over to wish you a happy birthday," you chirp, "are you enjoying it?" 

"Ah, I didn't see you here, I thought maybe you were busy…" she gives a pointed look to your boots, "working." 

"Um, yeah, no," you fidget, "always happy to come support you two." 

"Where is Steve?" She gazes past you, shouldering by dismissively, "he was just…." 

Right. You nod and flit away in embarrassment. You can't say you ever got along with Peggy. Where you're accommodating, she's a bit too demanding. Different people, but you don't dislike her. You just don't mesh. Or perhaps it's just that you don't get what Steve sees in her. Especially when you're right there. 

Enough. This isn't about you or your stupid dumb heart. Just smile and go with it. 

The kitchen door swings open, a noise barely discernible above the hue, and the rattling wheels of a cart underline the steady drone. A lull washes over the crowd as they part. You move with the tide and face the sudden divide. 

A hush falls over the room as Steve pushes the cake across the floor. He stops before Peggy as she faces him, another feigned pout of surprise. He grins proudly at her as you stare curiously at the top of the cake. 

"Oh, pink?" She comments on the fondant bow as her eyes flick over to you. She quickly corrects herself an admires the double tiered dessert, "Steve, it's so pretty." 

You know she hates the colour. You recall the one time you wore a pink bow in your hair and she made a similar comment. Cute, she remarked in her roundabout way in her oh so sophisticated accent. 

You manufacture a smile and step closer as Steve beckons to the guest. Tension stills the air, almost paralyzing the crowd. You squint at the heart shaped box perched atop the bow. 

"Is this for me?" Peggy asks if it's not obvious. 

Steve nods, his cheeks tinting pink, as you notice how he wipes his palms on his pants. Peggy delicately takes the box from the pedestal of fondant and your ribs ache from the pounding of your heart. You curl your fingers until your nails dig into your skin as you watch him kneel beside her. 

She doesn't notice as she opens the box on its hinges. Her lips part and she stares at the contents. She looks over at Steve to find him on his knee and she claps her hand over her mouth. Her eyes gleam as she whimpers his name through her fingers. 

The scene hazes behind your tears as you stare wide eyed. Your ears ring as Steve's voice is dulled by your shock. 

"Margaret Elizabeth Carter," Steve's timbre warble just a bit, "will you make me the happiest man on earth?" 

You don't wait for her answer. You already know it. It's the very same you give in every outlandish dream you've ever had of your happy ending. You spin and storm through the crowd, blind with horror and self-pity. 

Surprise! Your whole world is crashing into pieces. 

[wonwoosstuff]

Inspired by in the soop: bf wonu x gf reader (Drabble)

Summary: Wonwoo prepares a bonfire to cook for you next to the tour camping site and you approach him cutely.

Warning: none; just fluff, established relationship, physical affection, kisses, reader is shorter than wonu, short mention of the other members, slight crack at the end (w/ Dino and Dokyeom lmao)

☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆ *:.｡. ☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the tranquil Airbnb backyard, you found Wonwoo diligently arranging logs for a bonfire. His focused expression softened as you approached, captivated by the flickering flames in his eyes.

"You're turning into quite the bonfire expert," you teased, wrapping your arms sideways around his waist.

Wonwoo chuckled, his hands pausing in their task. "Well, I have the best motivation—making it special for you."

You nuzzled into his neck while hugging him. Standing on your tiptoes you planted a soft kiss on his cheek."You're already special."

He resumed his work, and you couldn't resist adding, "Almost as special as this marshmallow I have here." You dangled a marshmallow on a stick in front of him, earning a-typical-wonwoo-grin.

"You're incorrigible," he laughed, taking the marshmallow and skewering it himself.

You watched as he expertly toasted it over the emerging flames. "You know, you're my favorite bonfire companion," you said, savoring the warmth both from the fire and his presence.

Wonwoo smirked, handing you the perfectly toasted marshmallow. "And you're my favorite marshmallow connoisseur."

You smiled at him blushing slightly at his comment. Teasingly he exclaimed: “Look who’s now blushing over my comment.” You responded with a playful slap on his chest muscle receiving a dramatic groan: “Ouch. That hurt!”

“Then stop teasing me.” You pouted. Wonwoo, ever the charmer, wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Okay, okay, no more teasing, I promise.”

You admired everything about your boyfriend. The way he is good at everything and anything made you feel things you’ve never felt for a man before.

“Love, maybe you should sit down.” Wonwoo said and pointed his finger at the chairs surrounding the bonfire. “Okay, sir.” You added jokingly.

It was pretty stupid of you to wear shorts and a light shirt in the evening when it was freezing outside. Luckily Wonwoo could easily decipher your mind. It’s like he had a sixth sense for you.

“Thank you, baby.” You said after he handed you a warm blanket that smelled frankly like him.

The atmosphere you experienced was indescribable. It was just you focusing on your boyfriend looking illegally handsome while lighting up the fire and being so into the activity. You loved him so much. In fact your feelings were mutual. Being with Wonwoo meant being comfortable, safe and loved.

The flickering flames cast a gentle glow on Wonwoo’s face, highlighting the affectionate smile that mirrored your smile.

As the fire got smaller, your boyfriend took a seat next to you and you leaned on his shoulder. The night was quiet, and the stars above you were increasing making the night sky look bright. You looked up at Wonwoo. His eyes held a softness that matched the peaceful night. Without words, you enjoyed the quiet together, the leaves rustling and the night sounds soothing you.

Breaking the silence, Wonwoo said, "I could stay like this forever, just being with you.” You agreed, shifting even closer. "Me too. These moments make everything feel perfect."

You hugged your boyfriend’s arm, creating a warm embrace. Then you chatted about everything and nothing, the night unfolded into a canvas painted with shared laughter and whispered conversations. Wonwoo shared stories about his childhood adventures, and you playfully recounted embarrassing moments.

Unexpectedly, a loud burst of laughter pierced the serenity of the moment, and you both turned to see none other than Dino, whose infectious laughter echoed through the quiet night.

“SAWRY FOR INTERRUPTING YOUR DATE BUT THIS GUY IS SO HAHAH-“

Dokyeom quickly intervened, covering Dino’s mouth. “Shh! Let them enjoy their night, you punk.”

Dino, still laughing under Dokyeom’s hand, tried to speak. “I just wanted to say—”

With Dino’s laughter now silenced, the night regained its quiet charm. Wonwoo chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, that was unexpected.”

“Yeah, right.” You chuckled. “It’s 2 am. Maybe we should go to bed.” Wonwoo stated.

You rose from your seats and linked your fingers with your boyfriend's, making your way toward the bedroom together.

☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆ *:.｡. ☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆

Pledis we need in the soop season 3… pleaseeee

©️ wonwoosstuff do not copy or translate!

[emilybeemartin]

Hey! Hey, would you like to be a park ranger?

USA Jobs just posted a bunch of national park ranger positions for summer 2024--everything from small historic sites to the big flagship parks like Yellowstone and Yosemite. These are seasonal positions specifically for interpretive rangers, which means you begin around May-ish and end around September-October-ish. Interpretation is the branch of the NPS that does educational programming and frontline visitor services, like working in the visitor centers, leading guided walks and talks, and just generally interacting with the public in a friendly, helpful way.

If you have a four-year college degree in just about any subject (honestly, I've worked with people with degrees ranging from theater to business to geoscience), or 12 months' relevant work experience (customer service, retail, education, camp counseling, etc), or a combination of the two, you're eligible to apply. All you need is a resume and transcripts if you're using education to qualify.

Just go to USAJobs.gov and search for "park ranger interpretation" in the search bar. The key things you're looking for in the results are listings from the National Park Service, the code GS 5 (which is the entry level for this position), and the phrase Not to Exceed 1039 hours (which indicates it's a seasonal position).

Some tips!

>Each application requires you to answer a questionnaire about your experience with things like customer service, preparing educational programs, researching scientific topics, etc. Be generous with yourself on these, because other folks will be. Even if you don't think you're an "expert" in something, consider your past work creatively. Have you presented research projects in class? Have you worked retail? Can you keep up a professional demeanor when somebody's upset? You have the qualifications. Rate yourself as such.

>Be thorough and specific in your resume. The NPS isn't a one-pager resume organization. They need to see evidence that you have the qualifications you say you do. The best way to ensure this is to copy, word for word, the phrases in the above questionnaire and insert them in the relevant places in your resume. So if the questionnaire says "Can you research, prepare, and present scientific information to a lay public," go to the appropriate place in your resume and write "I researched, prepared, and presented scientific information to my peers" or something similar. I kid you not, my current resume is ten pages long.

>Cover letters are optional but helpful! There are lots of templates online to help you write one; be sure to be professional. Mine is around 250 words and has three short paragraphs:

1- Position I'm applying for

2- Quick summary of most relevant work/education experience

3- Additional skills/rizz that makes me stand out (for me it's writing/illustrating, which helps me create visitor programs)

>Two things the NPS loves that will boost you are foreign language skills and being a US military veteran. Highlight these elements if you have them.

>Are you a schoolteacher? Check out the Teacher-Ranger-Teacher program.

>The big flashy parks are posted as standalone listings, but most of the others are bundled into "Multiple Locations" that are based on region. Consider applying for many of these smaller monuments and historic sites---they get far fewer applicants and are easier to secure. And many are absolutely beautiful. Want to work at Arches? Also apply to Natural Bridges. Want to work in Yellowstone? Also try Lassen Volcanic. Prefer history over science? You have dozens of amazing options from every facet of American history.

>Apply today! Apply now! Many of these parks cap their applicants because they get so many, and the rest will close after a week or so. A glance at the ones that were posted today and yesterday show them either closing on October 15 or 22. Some regions haven't posted yet, so keep checking the website in the next few weeks.

I love my work as a park ranger---it's such a rewarding way to spend a summer (or two, or ten), and it can open doors to other things. You won't get rich, but you will make great friends and great memories, add a killer section to your resume, and spend four months immersed with smart, passionate people in some of the coolest places in the US.

Plus you get a SICK HAT

[phantomrose96]

Hey not to go all "tumblr is a professional networking site" on you, but how did you get to work for Microsoft??? I'm a recent grad and I'm being eviscerated out here trying to apply for industry jobs & your liveblogging about your job sounds so much less evil than Data Entry IT Job #43461

This place is basically LinkedIn to me.

I'm gonna start by saying I am so so very sorry you're a recent grad in the year 2024... Tech job market is complete ass right now and it is not just you. I started fulltime in 2018, and for 2018-2022 it was completely normal to see a yearly outflow of people hopping to new jobs and a yearly inflow of new hires. Then sometime around late-spring/early-summer of 2022 Wallstreet sneezed the word "recession" and every tech company simultaneously shit themselves.

Tons of layoffs happened, meaning you're competing not just with new grads but with thousands of experienced workers who got shafted by their company. My org squeaked by with a small amount of layoffs (3 people among ~100), but it also means we have not hired anyone new since mid-2022. And where I used to see maybe 4-8 people yearly leave in order to hop to a new job, I think I've seen 1 person do that in the whole last year and a half.

All this to say it's rough and I can't just say "send applications and believe in yourself :)".

I have done interviews though. (I'm not involved in resume screening though, just the interviews of candidates who made it past the screening phase.) So I have at least some relevant advice, as well as second-hand knowledge from other people I know who've had to hop jobs or get hired recently.

If you have friends already in industry who you feel comfortable asking, reach out to them. Most companies have a recommendation process where a current employee fills out a little form that says "yeah I'd recommend such-and-such for this job." These do seem to carry weight, since it's coming from a trusted internal person and isn't just one of the hundreds of cold-call applications they've received.

A lot of tech companies--whether for truly well-intentioned reasons or to just check a checkbox--are on the lookout for increasing employee diversity. If you happen to have anything like, for example, "member of my college Latino society", it's worth including on your resume among your technical skills and technical projects.

I would add "you're probably gonna have to send a lot of applications" as a bullet point but I'm sure you're already doing that. But here it is as a bullet point anyway.

(This is kind of a guess, since it's part of the resume screening) but if you can dedicate some time to getting at least passingly familiar with popular tech/stacks for the positions you're looking into, try doing that in your free time so you can list it on your resume. Even better if you make a project you can point to. Like if you're aiming for webdev, get familiar with React and probably NodeJS. On top of being comfortable in one of the all-purpose languages like C(++) or Java or Python.

If you get to the interview phase - a company that is good to work for WILL care that you're someone who's good to work with. A tech-genius who's a coworker-hating egotistical snob is a nuisance at best and a liability at worst for companies with even a half-decent culture. When I do interviews, "Is this someone who's a good culture fit?" is as important as the technical skills. You'll want to show you'll be a perfectly pleasant, helpful, collaborative coworker. If the company DOESN'T care about that... bullet dodged.

For the technical questions, I care more about the thought process than I do the right answer, especially for entry-level. If you show a capacity for asking good, insightful clarifying questions, an ability to break down the problem, explain your thought process, and backtrack&alter your approach upon realizing something won't work, that's all more important than just being able to spit out a memorized leetcode answer. (I kinda hate leetcode for this reason, and therefore I only ask homebrewed questions, because I don't want the technical portion to hinge at all on whether someone managed to memorize the first 47 pages of leetcode problems). For a new hire, the most important impression you can give me is that you have a technical grasp and that you're capable of learning. Because a new hire isn't going to be an expert in anything, but they're someone who's capable of learning the ropes.

That's everything I have off the top of my head. Good luck anon. I'm very sorry you were born during a specific range of years that made you a new grad in 2024 and I hope it gets better.

[cinnamonest]

OMG I MISSED YOUR WRITINGS ON SCARAMOUCHE SO MUCH!!

Please I need the version with camgirl reader x incel Scaramouche 🛐

And I hope you are well !!! <3

The way I was gonna make this a fairly simple post and then I got carried away and now it's 9k words WHOOPS

Anyway YES anon, I am on the slut girl x virgin boy agenda... although since I already have a camgirl, this time I went with like an onlyf*ns/e-girl darling + college AU >:3

//noncon, cyberstalking, blackmail, harassment, misogyny, sadism, nipple/ass stuff, revenge porn/leaking, darling is portrayed as being feminine + implied to have a bf

---

You tell yourself it's just to get you through college.

That's how you convinced yourself to start the account — regular camming requires a schedule and streaming and all that, which you'd rather not do, whereas the other outlets let you sell subscriptions for photos and videos, and there was a decent market out there, so you took your best shot, did some work to advertise yourself on mainstream social sites, and hey, it worked. You soon find yourself with a steady stream of income, and all you have to do is masturbate on camera and take a few posed photos of your body.

A few years of some extra income, and then you'll be done, get a better job, and you can delete the account and scrub the internet clean of any trace of the matter. Maybe some guy out there will keep some of the photos, but it can't be that bad.

This way, you can focus on your academics, which a regular part-time job would be too time-consuming for. You don’t have to worry about scheduling classes around a work schedule, either, which allows you to be more choosy on your class schedule, ensuring you get the later classes and don’t have to wake up early each day.

Except one, where you had no choice but to take the early class, as the other sections filled up fast. It’s one of those required tech-involved ones, you just picked from the list at random — one of those big classes with hundreds of people in a huge auditorium, any degree of personalism drowned by the sheer number of people. It’s a male-dominated subject field, and the body of attending students when you walk in clearly reflects that, so you just sit down in the very back at the first unclaimed seat you can find, pausing to say good morning to the boy next to you, who only briefly looks your way in acknowledgement.

The professor goes over the generic first-day material — that yes, you need the expensive textbook, that yes, he will check attendance, and no, he will not give you extra credit at the last minute at the end of the semester, so on and so on… and—

—you’ll be working with the person next to you for the rest of the semester.

Even-numbered seats, the person to your immediate left, odd-numbered seats, to your immediate right. You turn and smile at the guy you’re thus assigned to, the same one you spoke to a few moments ago — once again, he just glances over at you and nods with some vague acknowledgement and then resumes doing what he’s been doing since the professor started, which is scrolling on his phone beneath the desk, only half-paying attention. That does not bode well for your predictions of how equally-yoked you’ll be in your work ethic… but no big deal.

It's one of those classes with a midterm and final project that you work on throughout the semester, rather than tests… which, hey, that could be fun, you tell yourself. You think you can get along. He doesn’t seem to care about what's going on around him much, which is not exactly good, but isn’t bad.

That dopey, happy demeanor… so obnoxious… ugh, you’ve got a notebook (an aesthetic, pretty one at that), and you're pulling it out on the first day of class? For what?

Except you aren’t reading him all that well at all. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes shift over to you and your activities throughout the class. And the reality is he very much does care.

That is, from the very second he lays eyes on you, you irritate him.

Then you write the class and your name at the top of the page all cutesy and artsy-looking, and then— God, now you're pulling out the multiple colors of highlighters and pens. Is that— is that one of those sparkly gel pens? Oh, it is. You’re making a little header with today’s date for your notes with it. Just kill him now. This is practically psychological torture.

Thus, while from your perspective, it feels like he barely pays you a second thought, in reality the rest of the period for him is spent just stewing in a stream of bitter, jaded thoughts.

Look at you with your… girl clothes and girl pens and girl notebook… you probably think you're so cute, spending money on dumb stuff like that… and smiling like an idiot. What are you so happy for. Why are you even taking this class when you'll just be bad at it. Why are you dressed like you put effort into it. Just pick up one of the sweatshirts laying on your bedroom floor like a reasonable person. And why do you smell so nice too.

He mulls over the negativity for the remainder of the class period, totally zoned out until people start packing up, which is the cue to leave.

Except you stop him before he can make a quick exit, holding out your phone, open to a new entry in your contacts.

Ah, since we'll need to work on the project, I can text you…

Right. That. Ugh.

The awkward discomfort of standing there and entering a name and number while you stand there with that dumb little nervous smile is only made more upsetting by the bitter realization that this will mark the first time he's ever had his number in a girl's phone before. Great, now he's going to be depressed for the rest of the day, and it's your fault.

You say thanks and smile again and your hands brush against his when you take your phone back and it makes him physically flinch in recoil — and you definitely noticed it, you mumble a little ah, sorry as if you're trying to make it even more awkward, now he's got to live with the humiliation of that too, and it's still your fault. Clearly, you are going to be nothing but a source of frustration.

And even once he's moped all the way back to the the comfort of his nice, dark apartment, he still can't escape your torment — no sooner does he flop down into bed than his phone goes off…

>Hi! Just wanted to make sure you can save my number too!

You add the little smiling emoji. It makes his eye twitch.

Trying to act all nice and sweet as if you're not only being pleasant because you're forced to work together. He knows full well you'd be all bitchy and demanding and hypersensitive in any other context, and probably all snobbish too, probably would barely pay him any mind.

Even if you are genuinely sweet, that in and of itself is still basically torturing him. Because what’s the point in you being sweet if you’re not going to give him anything more than that? With that in mind, even your niceness is just a cruel tease.

And why would you even be so happy to begin with? Doesn't being a girl suck? If he was something so weak and inferior and unintelligent, he'd be even more miserable about life, and that's really saying something. Maybe it's one of those things where you're so dumb that you lack self-awareness, so you can live a life of ignorant bliss... at the same time, the notion that you’re unaware of how inferior you are is equally frustrating. You should know, that knowledge should weigh on your mind all the time.

The frustration makes his chest feel tight, makes him grind his teeth… naturally, he has to get it out somehow, and there's a very convenient means to do so.

The imageboards he frequents almost always have a “leaked images” thread up and running, communities where they post e-girls’ nudes and revenge porn. The wrongness of it, of course, is the appeal.

Besides, they all deserve it. Some are images originally sent to boyfriends, posted as an act of revenge after cheating or dumping the guy (so it's deserved, really), others are leaked videos and photos from various pay-to-view networks and websites (also deserved, for being a whore), and finally some are just creepshots in public places (deserved once more, for dressing that way).

And the endless amount of the content and surprisingly good tagging system means that one can find any sort of content, and for the leaked porn accounts, it includes the girl's username and links to more of her, so you can see more of the same girl.

Like with this one, that just so happens to catch his eye. There's a whole page where some guy has paid for every single photo this girl has made, and put it out there for everyone to see for free. It's solo stuff, too, which is preferred — seeing couples making videos together, thereby watching the girl love on some guy, is depressing — and getting off to it is much more satisfying than any of the other girls on this thread, considering she looks like you.

…A lot, actually.

He's already memorized your annoying, pretty little face. The title of the video has the words “college girl” in it, too. Adds to the immersion, can feel like it’s really you, degrading yourself like that… of course, when it’s over, he has to deal with the reality that it isn’t, but the momentary pretending is cathartic.

And sure enough, as the first week passes, you quickly prove just as irritating as he initially suspected. You smile at him and talk to him every class, for some unknown, malicious ulterior motive. Are you trying to be belittling? Or are you trying to make him like you so that he'll do favors for you? Or is it for your own amusement?

Either way, the obvious deceit of it all is sickening. It's a commonly known female behavior. You try to come across as so sweet when in reality it's all an act, and you have some horrible reason for it. He just doesn't know what the reason is in your case yet. It would be better to be a bad person outright — the slimy underhanded fakeness of it all is what makes that type of evil so contemptible.

You, though, you’re just a bit puzzled. Normally, being nice to people works well… but this guy keeps sort of glaring at you… maybe that’s just how his face naturally is? But then, he also doesn’t talk very nice either. Not particularly mean, per se, but you can sort of sense an irritation, like you’ve done something wrong… you try to make the best of it, tell yourself you’re just imagining it. Besides, if he really didn’t like you, he wouldn’t respond when you talk to him, or would sit elsewhere, right? It’s not like you have to maintain the same seats all semester, as long as you work on the required material outside of class. So, you tell yourself, he must just be one of those people that naturally has that demeanor.

You’re not nearly as aware of it, but he makes his own observations of you too. You don’t check your phone nearly as much as he does, but every now and then, you look at something or another, and he always makes sure to subtly turn his eyes to see… it’s usually something stupid, like texts from friends, or worse, what appears to be a boyfriend, some male name you text often.

The first time you’re forced to meet outside of class, at the library per your suggestion — a very awkward interaction, but you seem to be fairly unbothered — you take a moment to check it when it vibrates. You’re sitting at an angle that makes it difficult for him to see without moving in a way that would catch your attention, but by pretending to take a swig of whatever can of liquid caffeine he has today (you had the audacity to comment how unhealthy it is), that he can tilt his head enough just to barely make out your screen without being noticed.

Your phone is open to an email.

The words flash across the screen for just a split second before you turn the screen off, but that one second is enough to make out the top of the screen. Enough time for the ‘hello, (username),’ preface to the email right beneath a very familiar blue logo to register with his brain.

He nearly chokes.

It takes every ounce of willpower to even try to hide the natural reaction — his eyes widen, he goes tense, he has to turn his torso away and pretend to fish something out of his cluttered bottomless void of a backpack whilst trying to refrain from coughing.

But then again, you put the phone away so quickly once you saw what it was… and the video from the other day…?

No. That can't be right.

There's no way. There's no way, there's no way, there's no way.

He can’t get back to his own place fast enough. Dropping the keys trying to unlock the door out of excitement, immediately whipping out his own phone, and he’s on the bookmarks tab before he can even sit down. Back to the leaks site, scrolling down to the tags where they put the girl’s username.

You’re wholly unbothered, going right back to talking to him in that overly-sweet tone, so nice, so frustrating, so torturous. You’re saying something. He has to get you to repeat yourself… no, it was just some pointless question about the homework.

To hell with that, that’s not even remotely important anymore… but he can’t voice that thought out loud, so he’s forced to tolerate the torment of waiting out the rest of your meeting until you finally say you’ll have to keep working later.

The usernames match. The one in your email was the exact same as the one now on the screen.

…

It's one of those moments where what's in front of him is so surreal, he's left so stunned, that he just sits there for a second, completely still, blinking and taking it in. Something that's too perfect to be real. This can't be actually happening, he's mistaken.

And thus he's just left perfectly still, a stupor of disbelief, sitting there in the darkness of the room with only the harsh light of phone screen shining up on his face as it slowly sinks in. It takes a minute — this is just the sort of thing that doesn't happen, it's far too perfect, he has to convince himself it isn't a dream.

And once it registers as reality, it feels exhilarating.

For one, it proves every suspicion right. He really did have a valid reason to be distrusting of your innocent girl act. To think, this whole time you were trying to fool him into believing you were good.

But all along, you were whoring out online, and basically, the fact that you're not upfront about that to someone you barely know is the same as outright lying about it.

Up until this point, life has just been so boring, so disappointing, just going through day to day… even college was just a thing to do because it's what everyone else does. But now? Now he has something exciting. A sudden sense of something meaningful, even if only as an outlet for pure, unadulterated malice.

As for you, well, you get a… well, a follower, but certainly not a fan.

The boy is a world-class hater. It's not passive hating, it's active hating. There is actual effort being put in here, and a lot of it at that.

In terms of the content itself, it's nothing you haven't seen before — some guy leaving comments and DMs calling you a whore and a slut and every nasty name one can conjure, saying you've ruined any hopes of a relationship by doing this, why would anyone ever date you when they can see you naked for a few bucks, telling you to get a real job, blah blah… fairly generic. A lot of the verbiage is certainly non-original, and more or less recycled, specific choices of words and phrases and lingo you know you’ve seen before in those pockets of the internet where certain types of men congregate.

But the sheer dedication to it is what catches you off guard. You're pretty sure this guy is more dedicated to harassing you than you are to the job itself. There's messages from all hours of the day, and you're certain after a short time that he makes multiple accounts for the sole purpose of harassing you. Not to mention he follows or adds you on everything — all the socials you've linked (you keep several associated to your account to lure in horny guys from mainstream sites), adds you on discord and any other messaging app you have (and you have no way of knowing which users are legitimate or if it's him, so you have to add them back and wait to find out each time). One of which you didn't even have listed on your page, so you realize he would have had to go through various apps and search the multiple variations of your username you use until finding you.

Telling him to fuck off accomplishes nothing, in fact he seems to derive great satisfaction from making you upset about it. Tells you that you should be glad — you wanted male attention, right? You wouldn't be posting yourself getting off and flashing your tits on camera for the world to see if you didn't, slut. He adds that insult to just about everything he says to you.

Blocking him only leads to him making new accounts (and then mocking you for trying to block him). You even reached out to a customer support team on one of your social media apps and got him permanently IP banned, which he then immediately circumvented in less than a few hours, making sure to inform you that changing one's IP is so easy and you're so dumb for thinking that would do anything.

But why you, specifically? Why decide to torment you out of every other girl doing this stuff? You don't know. You never asked for this. You never did anything wrong to anyone. You even scrolled back on your social accounts to see if you ever said anything someone could take offensively or had a negative interaction with someone, but found nothing. There's nothing to explain why this one man in particular has decided to come after you specifically, nothing you can think of at least. It feels like the universe just hates you.

It's actually kinda sad. You almost feel bad for this guy, who apparently has so much time to spare and nothing better to do than harass the same girl on the internet day in and day out. You did once shoot back a reply of don’t you have anything better to do?, which actually did make him stop… for about ten hours or so, then it was right back to it.

It's deserved, though, he thinks. E-girls are reprehensible. Taking advantage of guys’ loneliness for money.

Infuriating that you advertise something that he— well, that most guys want so bad, but don't actually give the real thing, only a simulation of it. Make them drool over you, while you hide behind the safety of the screen, far away from what those guys would do to you if they could get their hands on you.

And you know that too, don't you? You know how defenseless you are, know how much danger you'd be in if you teased without putting out like that to a guy in real life, and you do it anyway knowing you're untouchable, you must be so smug about it. Infuriating.

He's not like those simps of yours though, he finds you too morally reprehensible to be drawn to the curves of your body and the parts of you that you post and the sounds you make and how easy it is to imagine the softness of your skin and the way you feel and your warmth and the way you look directly into the camera as you moan and it feels like eye contact—

Anyway, he has standards. And self-respect.

Besides, he knows from stalking your social accounts — including your real ones with your real identity attached, separate from the others — that you have something like a boyfriend. Some guy who shows up in your pictures a lot. What a pathetic idiot. Who lets their girlfriend do this sort of thing? Even disregarding that, does this guy not know you’re meeting with him for your project too? He would never allow you to do something like that, were it him in that position. You must go after spineless guys who will let you walk all over them or something, and would only even accept boyfriends that allow you to do what you do.

That’s why, see, he would never accept something like that. Sure, there would be positives, like getting to see that sweet annoying smile and hear your happy obnoxious precious voice each and every day, and getting to touch you and be around you all the time, and you probably do really nice things for the person you’re with too, and he could always just force you to delete the accounts and never post yourself online again— but, whatever.

Point is, he’s better than stooping so low. He’ll keep living a respectable life, just like he does now — so he thinks as the phone alarm goes off, one of many set reminders to go send you more messages.

It's an awkward relationship, but you're pretty sure he doesn't hate you or anything, which is good. He's hard to read — he seems perpetually either bored or irritated, always slouched over, always maintaining that ‘I really wish I weren't here right now’ tone of voice, lots of heavy sighs or tsks scattered into his speech. Even when you agree to meet at the library to work on the homework and midterm project, he quickly establishes a pattern of being at least ten to fifteen minutes late (without any acknowledgement or apology at that), and frankly, you do the vast majority of the actual work, he just slaps his name on the corner next to yours once it's done.

The torment detracts from your sleep. You're late to your class more than once, trying to sneak in unnoticed by the professor and mumbling apologies to the students you have to slip by to get to your seat. Your partner doesn't seem to care much, at least — he just lazily glances over at you with a flat expression, then goes back to scrolling (he doesn't need to take notes, you'll just send him yours anyway).

He does step in to help when it's too difficult, you can't solve the problem yourself… which is how you realize that, in spite of being remarkably low-effort, he actually does understand the material, much better than you do at that. It's a bit embarrassing, since he makes it out to be so simple, but at least it somewhat compensates for all the work you do.

He's not particularly mean about it, he's just… not nice. The tone and choice of words tends to be not-so-subtly making you out to be dumb for not getting it, or that it's easy, or otherwise belittling.

…You really don't get that one? It's the exact same thing as the last one.

You give a sheepish smile and rub the back of your head.

Aha… sorry…

But it gets done, and that's what matters. You just walk away from each meeting feeling like an idiot, which isn't exactly a great feeling.

But even though you initially felt like the guy didn’t care for you, you quickly notice that he’s started to walk all the way back to your place after your meetings while you talk. You supposed he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t at least somewhat enjoy your company.

And you do try to make conversation. You ask about what other classes he takes…only to learn that he doesn't go to any other classes, since this is the only one where attending is required. He did the math, and he just has to do good on the finals for the other classes to pass, no need to show up for the tests and quizzes and lectures and stuff… and he did research into the professors to find ones where past students confirm they recycle the exact same tests and the past ones are posted online, and he's already got a good cheating method that's only been caught once in all the years he's used it… so there's no point in showing up, he says.

It's a very different mentality than yours, but you try to smile and refrain from saying anything negative. And you try interests and social life as topics, but quickly glean from what little he says that the guy has none of the latter and more or less just a phone and gaming addiction for the former.

Which you have no trouble believing, because good God, does the boy have a totally fried attention span. Even in your meetings, you swear he can't go five minutes without staring at his phone.

Oh, you like that too…?

That does end up helping you find a means to try and get closer. You manage to find one opening, something flash across the screen for some upcoming game. One you've been looking forward to as well.

Huh? You can’t like that thing. He likes that thing. It's not for females. It’s for people with good taste… it’s good… you can’t… someone like you would never be able to properly appreciate it… and now you’re just babbling away with that dumb smile while he’s going through a psychological crisis and rethinking every choice in life because of you. Does this put you two on the same intellectual level...? No, of course not, he has to quickly shake off any such doubts.

You were hoping to get a positive reaction, but you get silent bewilderment in his expression at first, for just a second.

Still, you’re supposed to be boring and a normie… you can’t just suddenly shatter the image of you he’s already constructed… and from the way you're talking about it, you know too much to just be pretending to like something for attention (which is the obvious automatic assumption for when females like media that's actually good and worth consuming).

Devastating. Now he has to consider the possibility that you do have interests and a personality besides being deceitfully sweet and whoring online.

But from your perspective, he just crosses his arms and shrugs.

Kind of, I guess.

And God, then you smile at him again. Every time you do that, it gives him some godawful tight-chested feeling, like you’re trying to kill him with psychic damage.

What gives you the right to be so happy right now anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be in constant distress, now? Is he not doing good enough of a job at tormenting you? You seemed upset, but clearly not upset enough, if you’re still emotionally stable enough to be nice to him. He has to break you, make you too distraught to even go on.

Online, you’re so mean, you never have anything nice to say, even though he’s not that mean to you — well, he could be worse, at least, which is basically the same thing.

Actually, he decides, how you behave in real life will be a good standard of how good he’s doing at making your life miserable. Once it starts to noticeably affect you even in real life, that means it’s sufficient.

But you prove resilient. Each day, you seem to get up, summon some resolve to still enjoy your life, and are still pleasant and friendly… or maybe you’re just really good at acting. Yes, obviously that’s it, since your whole sweetness thing is just an act in the first place.

On your end, the harassment gets worse. It comes in all hours of the day — does this guy not sleep? It’s almost hard to believe someone hates you this much, or even has the energy to keep this up… you start trying to just ignore it.

You tried threatening to report the guy for harassment, but he points out that he hasn’t threatened you with any real harm, and only targeted your public accounts, so no laws broken… and he’s already prepared by taking measures to— well, you don’t understand the spew of lingo that follows, but you gather that the jist is that it would be very difficult to trace him.

So you start to ignore it. You try your best to just not let it get to you, let the comments and messages go without acknowledgement or response. It’s actually somewhat relieving, if you just pretend it doesn’t exist. At first, when you start ignoring him, the messages get more frequent.

But then, it goes quiet for a day. Just around twenty-four hours, you don't get messages, nor comments.

It should make you feel relieved, you think, but it doesn't. Quite the opposite — you feel uneasy. Like something will happen.

He's getting bored, you see. You don't react as strongly anymore as you used to. You used to get so upset at all the messages he sent, and it was so fun to watch how you'd get all defensive and angry in your replies.

Then your replies got shorter, and now— what gives your the right to ignore him? It infuriates him. Dumb whore, treating him like you think you're so much better… or, the gut-wrenching thought passes through his mind, maybe you're busy, you’re probably visiting the guys you sleep around with, since someone like you could never be loyal to that boyfriend he's certain you have.

The only option is to progress things further. He has to think about that. He didn't really have a plan on where to go from here, but now he's started to think about the bigger picture, what he wants in the long term… and that's not going to go over well for you.

It takes some work and digging on his end, but it's worth it.

It's around three in the morning when your phone goes off. It just barely manages to wake you up. You think to yourself that you should remember to turn off the notifications for messaging apps… but for now, you sit up, groggily unlocking your phone. Seeing who the message is from, though, snaps you into full alertness.

A message that makes you go stiff, staring at your phone wide-eyed and slack-jawed, a cold knot of dread forming in your gut that quickly turns to an electrifying surge of pure panic as you read.

The name of your academic institution. The names, emails and phone numbers of your immediate family members. Your full, real name — and your address, down to the unit number.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. The glaring light hurts your tired eyes, but you can't look away.

You know he's just waiting on a response. Probably knows you're panicking, but knows you have no choice but to comply — and you're forced to give him the satisfaction of seeing you type back.

>What do you want from me?

It's only a few seconds before you get a reply.

>From now on, do what I want

>Or I ruin your life.

You hesitate a while before responding. Poor you, you must be so scared now that you're finally getting what you deserve. And even then, you just send back a ‘fine,’ even though it took you so long to respond. You were probably trying to think of how to respond, probably typed out longer potential replies, but decided on that to seem tough or something. That's actually almost endearing.

And oh, it's so, so satisfying to finally see you crumble, even if just a bit, the next day. For you to come shuffling into class for once with a downtrodden, nervous expression, making your way over to your spot without the usual greeting.

…Except that's also irritating. What makes you think you can just not say hello, now that you've established a routine of doing so every day of this class? For all you know, he's just the person you know in real life, so you're basically willingly choosing to potentially disappoint him. Not that you are disappointing him, but like, if he actually cared about your dumb little daily greeting, then he would be. He even gives you several extra seconds, and you still don't do it.

You're still fidgeting nervously, lost in thought when the mumbling directed at you pulls you out of your thoughts.

…Something wrong with you?

You seem to realize your sullen energy and attempt to fix it with a twitching, obviously forced smile.

O-oh, no, I'm just tired, haha… good morning!

He doesn't say anything back, just turns back to phone-scrolling as usual. You realize your melancholy must be showing on your face.

You're being overdramatic, too, he thinks. He didn't even give you any demands yet, since he decided it would be more fun to make you wait in suspense for a few hours or so. Seeing you squirm is funny, but really, you're acting like it's so much worse than it is. What a weakling, so sensitive.

It's just gonna be stuff you're used to anyway…

Which is somewhat true. You're used to the demand for private, custom content.

Men pay you sometimes incredible amounts of money for the stuff. Usually, the customization is about personalization — sometimes it's kind of sad, wanting you to say their name or that you love them while you look at the camera, and sometimes it's just more niche fetish stuff, like pictures of your feet or wearing a weird costume.

But everything this mystery man wants is different — the personalization has to do with the fact that it's painful, humiliating, or both. Moreover, he's never content with the first try.

Stuffing your holes with toys and sitting down on them so they go all the way in, specifically, ‘as many as you can fit’ — but even after the painful effort of getting one in each hole—

>That's not enough.

You can fit at least one more somewhere. And you're intentionally using the smaller toys, aren't you? You won't be able to do that next time, so don't try that again.

Then there's the command to get those clamps on your nipples you used in a video of yours a long time ago, the ones connected to each other by a chain, and to tighten them then pull hard enough for them to come off. You have to take a few deep breaths to summon the ability to do it, and even then, it takes a few tugs to get them to come off. By the time they do, your nipples are swollen and red and your eyes are watery from the sting, but nonetheless, a message comes through within a minute of sending the video.

>You didn't tighten them all the way first.

>Do it over.

Or the one to deep throat that one huge toy you have, the one you used in this one video a long time ago — which you now regret ever posting, since there's a reason that you never used that monstrosity again, much less in your throat. At first you're not even sure you can fit it into your mouth, but you force it somehow.

On and on the demands come. He's not paying for any of it, of course, but the premise is the same.

Still, it's not enough. Come on, you didn't even get it very far in, you have to at least get half down your throat. And you didn't hold the phone close enough, can't hear your gagging choking sounds.

>Do it again.

The timing is often terrible, shortly before or after your classes, or odd hours of the night, forcing you to stop whatever you're doing to meet the demand. Thankfully, though, at least you've never gotten a message from him during your meetups with your class partner — you're certain your distress would show on your face, and it would be hard to come up with an excuse for it.

It becomes such routine, and all happens so quickly, it feels surreal, like you're just forced to accept it and go with it. There’s no time to really process it, as you have to get back to doing your school work and going to class and trying to keep up with your regular video content, it's all so overwhelming, yet so simple, you just have to do what you have to do.

One moment you're slapping yourself in the face while you bounce up and down on a toy so long that it bruises your insides for some jerk that's blackmailing you, and running to class the next, desperately trying to rub at the marks on your face to make them go away.

You're worried that the stress is beginning to show. Your most recent quiz scores are lower than usual, you're getting less sleep. Your insides are always sore. You're paranoid and uneasy, and you know it has to be somewhat evident.

Some of the individual demands have lasting consequences, too. Once you were commanded to choke yourself with a belt on camera, specifically until it left bruises… which you begged and protested against because you had one of your class partner meet-ups scheduled for later the same day, but your tormentor said he didn't care and insisted, so you did it, forcing yourself to go through it… and sending an additional picture at the end just to show the purplish marks in detail, up close.

It wasn't the end of the world for your meeting though — the weather wasn't right for it, but you found something that covered your neck up, at least, so the bruises didn't show. That much, at least, allows you to be at ease… although your classmate seems to be in a particularly bad mood that day.

On another occasion, you find yourself laying on your side, gasping and wincing trying to force one of the larger toys you have into your ass, all the way to the base as instructed, toes curling as you pump it back and forth, in and out… only to be told you weren't supposed to touch yourself while you did it, so, predictably, you have to do it again, the ring of muscle clenching down as it's stretched — and, of course, the act leaves a remnant sensation lasting the rest of the day. You have to rush it too, or you'll be late, due to the horrible timing of the command.

You manage to get to class, but when you move to sit, an ache of pain runs up your spine from your poor abused hole, and you wince, face grimacing at the pain.

It doesn't go unnoticed. The guy next to you, ever observant to everything except the professor, casts a lazy glance over to you, looks you up and down before asking what’s the matter, albeit in a half-caring, bored tone of voice…

You give the oh, nothing, I'm fine! response, stammer out something about hurting your leg yesterday, and he merely gives you an 'ah' of acknowledgement before turning his gaze back down… he rests his chin against his hand so that his mouth is covered up, but you swear, you can detect a slight grin from the shape of his eyes. You suppose it checks out that he'd find your clumsiness amusing, even if it's a lie.

On and on it goes. All the time. Day in, day out. It starts off as once per day, but then your tormentor starts piling smaller requests on top of those. Even beyond the daily video, you get increasingly frequent messages at all times of the day — to take a picture of your tits or ass, or a short video of you fingering yourself, or some sort of angle or pose of your body, writing something on your skin, so on and so on.

He doesn't accept any delays, either. You only get a few minutes to fulfill a demand before getting an impatient follow-up asking what the hold up is. Sleep isn't an excuse either, so you're told, so you have to start turning your phone on loud at night to wake you if need be.

You sense a growing impatience. The frequency increases still, as does the intensity of the content you're forced to make. It's as if it's building up to something — surely it has to reach a limit, or he has to get bored, or he'll ditch you and find a new outlet for his sadistic thrills, you hope. You just hope it ends in a way that's positive for you… but you're afraid of the opposite. What if even after all this, he just ruins your life anyway? It's a very real possibility, one you begin considering increasingly as you think over the whole situation.

The increasing severity and number of demands makes you feel like he's getting more upset, as if you're doing something that makes him mad, even though you have no idea what that could be.

You are right, though.

He's also noticed how much more frequently he gets the urge to demand something from you. How much more the itch has grown, the compulsive need to see you hurting and degrading yourself more and more. You've long since passed the point where he has more videos and photos of you all to himself than those available online — he's been counting — but it's still not enough.

And with the realizations that he's engaging with you more, he realizes that he's also thinking about you more.

No, “more” isn't quite accurate. All the time. Constantly. You never leave his head, everything else feels like a distraction.

And that's only more infuriating. He's very self-aware, realizes it's getting worse, realizes you essentially occupy his thoughts every waking second.

Even then, the distractions aren't working. At one point he realized he literally cannot stop himself from messaging you, it's a compulsion, a need, and the realization of his own lack of self-control regarding it is maddening. He actively tried, told himself to wait until the next day, but just couldn't. Even if he plays games or watches whatever brain-rotting media he tries to consume, his thoughts keep drifting to you. Hell, ever since latching onto you, he’s stopped harassing other random women online in general, and that was pretty much one of his biggest hobbies in the past.

What gives you the right? To get inside his head like that? Make him constantly distracted and wondering about what you're doing, forcing him to keep tabs on you? What makes you think you can just come into his life and control him like this, and think you'll get away with it? You've more or less taken advantage of an innocent person who did nothing wrong to you. Used your body to exploit his weaknesses and manipulate him into doing all this.

You don't get to do that. You have to be held accountable.

You're constantly making him worry about you, what you're doing, who you're talking to, and not knowing is a maddening feeling. It feels like nausea, a sick feeling that completely consumes the mind, rendering it incapable of doing or focusing on anything else, only cycling the same obsessive rage and worry and paranoia until it becomes unbearable.

But there's a way to get rid of that, and give you what you deserve, and get what you owe him all at the same time.

He waits, only another week or so — a frustrating week, but spent planning ahead and gathering necessary stuff — but finally, given the timing, you send a text he was hoping you'd send asking about meeting up again, to finish up the project as the end of the semester approaches.

You're a bit caught off-guard by the message, not to mention how quickly he replies.

>Come over here.

You hesitate, re-reading to try and ensure that you're understanding correctly, and finally ask for clarification that he means to his place.

He says yes. Something about how he's supposed to have something delivered that he'll have to sign, and so he has to be at the apartment when that happens, so, y'know, best for you to come over.

Which is nice.

It's just… odd.

Inviting you over, even if for a required activity, feels very out of line with the person you've come to know, however surface-level said knowing may be. Then again, maybe this is the guy's way of trying to be nice. Everyone expresses appreciation differently.

You're still thinking on it when he adds another text saying that his roommate will be there, preemptively apologizes for any disturbance that will cause… well, you figure if someone else is there, it can’t be anything sinister. That helps you make up your mind, so you agree. At this point, you know each other well enough to warrant trust.

…It’s still pretty awkward, though. The apartment is about like a picture you would expect to see uploaded to the internet as a joke about male living spaces. Borderline barren, barring the computer and the bare minimum furniture and appliances needed to survive, plus some clothes and empty cans and such strewn in various places across the floor, all dark lighting and void of color.

That being said, you quickly realize the apartment is only a studio, and there’s only one bed. The roommate doesn't exist.

And something just feels wrong, in a way you can’t articulate. Like your instincts are urging you to leave. You feel uneasy. Goosebumps spread across your skin. Are you just being paranoid…?

There is something else, though, that immediately catches your attention. You notice that the wall isn’t exposed, rather, most of the room is covered with a layer of some sort of paneling, lining the wall almost as thoroughly as wallpaper. You inquire what it is.

Soundproofing.

An unpleasant answer, but he wouldn’t be so upfront about it unless it was for harmless reasons. You refrain from inquiring about the other odd things you start to notice — locks on some cabinets despite seemingly living alone, a roll of tape sitting on the desk with no discernable purpose.

As awkward as the tension is, you really have no option but to sit on the bed, as its the only surface other than the floor. You try not to contemplate how often the average college-aged boy washes bedsheets.

It occurs to you, though, that right now would be the worst possible timing for a message from your unknown harasser, and you certainly can’t take any photos or videos here… thus, just as you sit down and begin to work, you pick up your phone from where you set yours next to his, and type out a quick message, basically pleading with the unknown man to leave you along for the next few hours, because, as you explain, you literally can’t do anything for the time being.

You read it over, and hit send.

And before you can even put the phone back down, there's a vibration a mere arms-length away from you, as the other phone in the room lights up.

And there, in the notification that pops up on the screen, are the very words you just sent.

…

…

There's a few seconds where nothing happens.

Both your heads naturally turn to the sound the moment it happens, but after that, it's just… still. You’re frozen still, he’s frozen still. Both your eyes go wide, and the quiet seconds pass, processing the information before you.

And then, he sighs, body relaxing, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, muttering as if met with some major inconvenience.

God, why do you have to make this more difficult.

Besides, he already turned the lock that locks you in from the inside, even though you probably weren’t aware of what it was, so you’re already trapped anyway. And you squeal, of course, predictably, but that’s what the soundproof panels are for.

He's not particularly worried like he would have been any other time — this was the plan now anyway, but you're throwing things off schedule. Yet another transgression to hold you accountable for.

You do try to run. You at least deserve that much credit. He was so close to considering you a genuine marvel of human evolution, with how nonfunctional your survival instincts seemed to be.

But you’re sitting with your legs folded, so, you don’t have the time required to stand any chance of hopping up and running. The moment your legs start to move to stand, he’s already got you by the arm.

You even seemed to process everything a bit quicker than he would have thought. Maybe you’re not that stupid after all, just… a little less.

You still are incredibly stupid though. He’s almost surprised you agreed to come. So naive, so dumb, so trusting.

And so loud. Squealing like a little animal caught by a predator — which, well, isn’t too far off, but it still hurts his ears.

Shut up, shut up, shut up…

You can hear the growling voice in your ear, even now that he has your face pressed into the mattress, arm latched around your waist. You’re squirming so hard too, but even fighting with all the strength you can summon, it feels like trying to push back a brick wall. He seems to notice as much as you do.

…Is that actually the best you can do?

Not the first time he’s said those words to you — though before, it was over text, mocking you into filling all those perverse desires. It feels far more biting now.

And it’s so, so, so satisfying to see you realize just how dumb you are, as you put everything together. To watch you slowly grasp everything, realize just how badly you’ve fucked up. He even flips you onto your back just to see your face go through all the stages of emotion. It’s hilarious, and adorable too. The confusion and betrayal and panic and anger.

Oh, you get so mad. It’s actually the best part. You’re practically snarling now, reaching up to try and claw at him, kicking, baring your teeth. Any traces of the sweet demeanor you once held is long gone as you lash out… and then, a purely and entirely euphoric transition to fear.

Aw. Poor thing. After you struggle so much, your breathing gets faster, the fury dissipates as your eyes well with tears. The demands to let you go turn to miserable little pleas.

Maybe you can go back and forth. Maybe if he taunts you again you’ll get angry once more, and then if he slaps you you’ll get meek and fearful again? That would be nice, to have reliable ways to switch your emotions around, as if controlling them with a button. There will be plenty of time to find out later.

But now he gets the opportunity to finally tell you how long you made him wait for this. Mocks you for how naive you were. Brings up specifics from all those videos you sent him. Did you think it would just be left at that? Did you really not realize it wouldn’t be enough? No, of course you didn’t, and that’s why you ended up coming here like the dumb little slut you are.

And look, you even wore something so easy to flip up, practically easy access. You just have no shame at all, do you. See, it goes in perfectly because you’ve been using those toys for those videos, and… ah, so that’s— that’s what it feels like… holy shit… this is what you basically robbed him of all this time? Now you’ll really have to suffer to make up for it…

Well, you wouldn’t get it. It’s about what you did subconsciously, mind games and all that. His torment was intentional on your end, and that’s what matters. Now you'll get to spend a very very long time atoning for it. You should be happy. You won't even have to worry about making money anymore.

This wouldn’t be happening to you if you didn’t do what you did to him, you know. It’s your fault. He tells you so. And when you look up at him, eyes welled with tears, stammering out a question of what he means—

What did I ever d-do to you…?

—he realizes that it’s… difficult to give that question a concrete answer.

What did you do, really...?

The only problem that remains is how you rushed things. He was at least going to wait until you finished the project, but now it’s incomplete… do professors grant extensions if your partner goes missing…?

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Rrecently, I've found a mod that replaces the hippogriff models with dragons.

And it got me thinking. 👀 HLC reacting to MC chasing Hogwarts Express on a dragon at the start of their 6th or 7th year? :D (let's assume Fig survived and could see it ; ; Sharp's reaction will be golden and I can't even begin to think what Black would've said seeing this from atop of the tower!).

A/N: MORE DRAGONS!

HLC REACT TO SEEING MC RIDING A DRAGON

If everyone thought MCs arrival to Hogwarts was dramatic in their fifth year, it was nothing compared to their 7th. While most students arrived via the Hogwarts Express or private carriage, MC preferred a more...epic approach.

They had raised a Hebridean Black from an egg, and trained it to be their most loyal companion. MC flew over the Hogwarts Express. They waved at the students inside, and their dragon roared as it flew past.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He watches MC fly by with a smile on his face. You can't get any grander than arriving to school on the back of a dragon. He wonders if he can get a ride sometime.

OMINIS GAUNT: A first year nearly knocks the book he's holding out of his hand as they rush to the window to watch MC. He thought he had a room to himself, but kids on the other side of the train wanted to see whatever was out the window. He heard them 'ooo' and 'awe' over the dragon and the person atop it. He could take a wild guess who they were talking about.

ANNE SALLOW: She's right up against the window in awe of the site right along with the first years. She tells them that the person on the dragon is the hero of Hogwarts, guardian of the valley. They're legendary!

IMELDA REYES: Oh hell no! MC wasn't taking anymore flying credit than they already had. She gets her broom out of her trunk and jumps out the window. She flies out to MC and taunts them into a race to the castle.

NATSAI ONAI: That's her best friend. She's proud to be one of the few people that can say that. It's downright inspirational watching MC fly their dragon towards the castle as the sun falls below the horizon. Their last year at Hogwarts is bound to be their best.

GARRETH WEASLEY: He waves enthusiastically from the train at MC. He gloats to any passenger within earshot that he knows that dragon rider.

LEANDER PREWETT: MC this. MC that. He was sick to death of hearing about how great they were. No, he's not jealous. Stop asking.

AMIT THAKKAR: He takes out his pocket telescope to get a good look at the dragon and it's rider. He didn't even know MC had a dragon, let alone one they could tame.

EVERETT CLOPTON: Jaw slacked he watches MC until they're out of sight. In just 2 years, they went from barely surviving a dragon attack to raising and taming a dragon. Was there anything they couldn't do?

POPPY SWEETING: She gasps and plasters herself to the window. She didn't know MC's dragon training was ready for riding. Why didn't they invite her? She sad.

ELEAZAR FIG: He's at Hogsmeade station with a few of the other professors to help sort the students on arrival. MC has told him about the dragon but not about riding. He's astonished. He watches in awe and waves back when MC waves at him.

AESOP SHARP: The dragon roar makes him jump a little, but when he sees someone on its back, he knew it could only be one person. He rolls his eyes and pockets his wand. One more year. He only has to deal with them for one more year. He gives professor Fig a deadpan glare. Why does he encourage this?

PHINEAS NIGELLUS BLACK: He sips his tea and looks out his office window, seeing the white steam from the train arriving at Hogsmeade. Another year of dealing with underaged wizardry. Huzzah. If the status of being headmaster of Hogwarts wasn't so lucrative to his resume, he would- WHOOSH!

His inner thoughts are interrupted by a large flying beast zooming past so quickly that it nearly rattles the windows out of place. He fumbles his tea and spills it all down his front. His eye twitches. This job was going to be the death of him.

[saulocept]

sunrise boulevard

pairing: kenji sato/reader

rating: g

summary: After Mina’s “death”, Ken needs someone to fulfill the role of a babysitter.

And after your sudden unemployment, you need something to get you by.

It’s only through chance that the two of you manage to find each other.

notes: this is the first part of a mini-series ive been working on. a little on the shorter side. this was originally going to be longer, but i had to cut it since the other part didn't quite fit well with this. so uh. consider this as an introductory part?

parts: one (you are here)

No one ever tells you how hard it is to be unemployed at your age. Harder still when pretty much every person your age is living a good life, with houses of their own, and high-paying jobs they could brag about in their socials.

It’s not like any of this is your fault, not really. You weren’t always unemployed; things just sort of happened. In fact, you were a star employee, (or a former one, at least) in every sense of the word: you were never late, were never absent. You always wore your uniform properly, ironed the creases each night so they’d look more pristine than ever. You’d dealt with the customers perfectly, answered each of their queries as best as you can, leading them to the correct aisles when they couldn’t be bothered to find it themselves.

You’d maintained the place, kept it nice and spotless, sweeping off the floors and wiping off the counters. You’d probably done other stuff, too: fixed the light bulbs, cleaned the toilets, unclogged the sink, even repaired them when they weren’t working as intended – which was difficult work for someone not knowledgeable in such things like you were.

But you did all of them, anyway, without complaint, without hesitation.

And still, they fired you. No, not fired, but rather laid off – as they put it. Not like you can blame them anyway. The shop’s closed its doors a week after they fired you (again, laid off) which at least meant that they weren’t lying to you when they said they couldn’t afford to keep you employed any longer.

You’d be sad about it if you aren’t so busy trying to stay afloat. It’s not easy being back to square one, after all. It’s even harder to be on square one for months now.

It’s not like you aren’t trying your best either. You’ve pretty much applied everywhere by now, sent your resumes to companies and institutions, however large and small. You’ve even lurked on multiple sites, too, just to make sure you aren’t missing out on anything: Linkedin, Indeed – hell, you’ve even started to look for jobs at Craigslist, too, and even Facebook Marketplace, of all places, desperate for something, anything.

Not like you’ve ever had an array of skills to boast about. You know the basics, obviously, but you don’t have a doctorate degree, or some kind of Masters. You know a lot about kaiju; years of watching Godzilla at the orphanage with the other children had given you more knowledge about them than anything you could ever do with (Godzilla, mostly), but you know it’s not going to be of any help to you now.

Hell. You’re not even fluent in any language outside your own – no, wait, you’re a little fluent in Klingon, but that’s only because you’re a nerd as a kid. You doubt that’d be enough to impress anyone, but there’s no harm in putting that out there, right? Just in case.

Maybe you’d fool some employer out there who didn’t know any better. Or maybe you’d make one of them laugh.

So far, your efforts have all been for naught. There’s no response from anyone, from anything: no calls, no emails. No text messages. Nothing but radio silence, and obvious text scams trying to get you to shell out money you’ve never even had.

You exhale a breath, pinching the bridge of your nose as you take a sip of your coffee. Instant this time, and black, because you couldn’t afford a creamer and a sugar.

You blanch a little at the taste, but force yourself to swallow it down. You can’t afford to waste any more coffee, especially not when you need it to stay awake. It’s useless; you haven’t slept for a week straight now, enough that you’re pretty sure you’ll pass out any moment now, but you still haven’t given up hope.

You stare at the screen, rubbing your eyes once more. You could feel the thrum of your computer in front of you: rhythmic and steady, familiar and comfortable. It’s the only thing that’s been with you throughout all this fight, not once giving up on you despite its multiple issues: old age, outdated system, cracked screen, wonky keyboard – plus a whole bunch of other things you haven’t managed to discover.

You’ve been lurking at this site for a while now, something you’ve only managed to find by doing a thorough search on the internet, scouting for new job opportunities.

So far, there hasn’t been anything new, and you’re already close to giving up for the day and catching up on some sleep when there’s a sudden ping, nearly startling you out of your wits.

 Still, you know that could only mean one thing. With your heart hammering against your chest, you hit the refresh button, watch as the screen freezes for a few seconds before displaying the entire page again.

There’s a new entry at the top, posted just a few seconds ago. You lean your head forward, squinting, double-clicking on the post, skimming through the entire thing.

Looking for a kaiju babysitter. Experience not needed. Knowledge welcome, but not necessary. If interested, send an email to this address: baseballlover26@mail.com.

You raise an eyebrow at that, looking a little skeptical. A dummy email address, which already seems shady enough at first glance, but a kaiju babysitter? Now that’s new. You’ve only ever learned about kaiju in the movies, but you doubt they’d need a babysitter, especially when they seem even more capable than a regular human.

Could this be some sort of a code, then? A message hidden somewhere? You read the entry again, starting from the beginning, searching for hidden clues, but nothing comes to mind.

Curiously, you click on the person’s profile, still not feeling a little convinced. There’s no entry outside the one that you’d just read. Hell, there’s not even a description or anything of the sort. No name, not even a profile picture, which just makes the whole thing even more suspicious.

Is this some sort of a ruse to lure you into human trafficking? That feels very likely, considering the nature of the job (babysitting a kaiju? Seriously?), but it’s not like you’ve got anything to lose.

Free room and board? Hell yeah. At this point, you’ll take anything that offers a place to stay, especially if you don’t have to pay for it, no matter how dangerous it is. Beggars can’t be choosers after all, and you’d be damned if you let this all go to waste.

You flex your fingers, typing up a short email to the address, attaching your resume and your contact numbers, mentioning the fact that you know a little bit about kaiju­ as a postscript– which isn’t quite a lie, but not quite the truth either. If any of this were real, then perhaps, you’d be able to impress the person behind the post.

And if not… well. You’ll know for sure at least.

Without hesitation, you finally hit send. Now all that’s left for you to do is wait for a reply.

[luvyeni]

MY SHY NEIGHBOR ( epilogue )

— EPILOGUE: special guest ...

— 𖦹 warnings? language

previous chapter - next chapter - my shy neighbor masterlist

it had been a while since you streamed — you and jeongin never had a conversation whether he felt comfortable with you continuing with the streams, but this was how you made money for college so you could didn’t think he’d mind.

“It’s been a while.” You sat on your bed, dressed in your best lingerie — your face still unknown. “did you guys miss me?” You asked cutely, watching the comments go up, the tips too. “Oh you guys must’ve really did, im sorry I was too long.”

Meanwhile jeongin sat at his computer working on his project — missing you so much, you both were still in the phase in your relationship were you want to spend all your time together but you had separate lives so here he was.

He was finishing up when he got a call, hoping it was you — frowning when it wasn’t. “What jisung?” He answer. “the hell is wrong with you?” The boy said. “Nothing, what do you want?”

“Oh yeah, I called just to tell you that you are strong man, a dumb but strong man.” Jeongin was confused. “What are you talking about jisung?” He said. “your girlfriend.” Jeongin was confused. “What about yn?” He said. “Just look on the site.” He could almost hear his friends giggles as he hung up.

He thought about for a minute , before quickly typing in the site that started it all, and sure enough on the top page there it showed that you were live.

He clicked the live — your chest fully on display as you talked to the camera. “sh-shit.” He cursed his cock twitching against his jeans. This was something he saw everyday, but for some reason, but watching you toy with the viewers — knowing they would never get to have you  the way he did made him hard.

He palmed at his cock — finally deciding to just unbuckle his pants, finally freeing his cock from his confinements, if he couldn’t be with you at the moment, why not get off to your beautiful body.

‘Come over please’ was all jeongin needed to basically fly out the door to yours, not even knocking on your door — knowing you kept it open for him, even though he told you not to, taking his shoes off, making his way into your room where you laid on your bed.

“innie.” You smiled , opening your arms for him to hug you. “Hey baby." He said, kissing your lips softly. “How was your day, I missed you?” He asked. “boring, I had class, went to coffee with lily matt and sungchan.” You went to explain your day, leaving the part about the stream.

“Yeah that’s all you did.” He smirked , rubbing your side. “Oh I applied for a internship.” You said, he chuckled. “So you didn’t do a stream?” He said, you froze. “jisung?” you questioned, you’re gonna find his id one day and block him. “He’s such a snitch.”

“You mad?” jeongins traced shapes on his stomach. “Absolutely not, that’s your job, you don’t come to my job telling me not to do it because of the girls there.” He said. “So why should I stop you?”

You smiled kissing him, his dimples were in on display, his eyes suddenly turning dark. “Beside, only I know what you taste like and that’s something they could only dream of.” He whispered against your neck, kissing it. “Innie.” You sighed.

Things escalating from there, he was undressing you and himself, groping at your boob — you grabbed his hands, stopping him with a mischievous smile on his face. “what’s on that pretty mind of yours.” He hovered over you. “Let me up, I have to get something.” He was confused, but he let you up anyway.

You reached over in your drawer pulling out three things; a camera and two masks. “what are you planning?” He said, finally putting the two and two together. “Oh princess, you’re naughty.” You smiled. “You seriously want to do this?”

“Only if you want to.” You said, jeongin too the mask out of your hand, you smiled setting the camera up in a way that shows both of your body, pressing play.

Both of you resumed where you left off, jeongin freed his cock from his underwear, wrapping your legs around his waist. He grabbed the base of his cock, pressing it against your core. “Pl-please.” You reached down, stroking his cock, pushing it in. “fu-fuck innie.” You moaned as he fully bottomed out. “Oh fuck you feel so good.”

He started slowly, moving his hips teasingly, groping your boob, toying with your nipple. “so fucking pretty.” He wanted to move the mask and kiss you so bad, but he knew you didn’t feel comfortable showing your face. “You feel so fucking good, so fucking tight.” He grunted.

You grabbed his waist , growing impatient. “pl-please go faster.” He obey, speeding up his hips, grabbing your thighs as he began to plow into you. “Fuck innie!” He groaned, you cunt squeezing him tightly. “your pussy feels so good.” He groaned.

“Wanna ride you.” You said, he cursed. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” He stopped moving, slowly pulling out , sitting up against the headboard — helping you into his lap. “Fuck please sit down.” He groaned, holding your waist, letting you slowly sink down. “Fu-fuck im not gonna of you don’t move.”

You slowly moved your hips, his hands flying to your boobs, bringing them to his lips. “fuck innie.” You moaned , as he toyed with one of your nipples, sucking on the other one like he was waiting for something to come out. “Fuck im gonna cum.”

He moved his hips, helping you reach your orgasm, while inching closer to his. “shit!” you screamed out, your juices coating his cock. “fuck im gonna cum inside you.” He said, both of you forgetting the camera was even there at this point. “please.” You begged, he groaned. “fuck im cumming!” He held your hips down. “Shit.” He groaned, his cum shooting into your waiting womb.

“shit baby.” He said, his voice breathy and fuck out. “Y-yeah.” You said, your voice similar.

“please turn that fucking camera off so I can take this mask off and kiss you.”

— ( taglist. CLOSED ) @soulsbbg @k-poplv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @bbokarimenu @enczen @queen-in-the-shadows @thesweetesttattoo @ririlinoriri @aloverga @ashiitex @ddazed-lhs @heartsforhyunjin @chlodavids @simp4myself @surefornext @lostwonderwall @xxr-s4sha @charmer-c @vixensss @frobin4ever @bmnyy @semi-semiisbae @m111nho @i2innie @aalexyuuuhm @iraa567 @cheshireshiya @ihrtlix @abbiestearsricochet @niaalove @skzswife @babrieeee @thisisnotjacinta @luvskai @ikeusol @costalmaine @whos-kkira @minhosprettywife @hey-hey-heybitch @jeongins-version @denisaandreea20 @lovesunshinefelix @222brainrot @thatgirlkay @ss3oung @number1jeonginstan @whitney190 @jongseongsluvr @chesemonky @worcesheshestershiresauce @puppy-minnie @prettygirlsstanskz @hanniemylovelyquokka

©️LUVYENI

[klapollo]

some basic tips for getting a job in this horrible market

hi all -- long story short, as many of you know, i just finished a three+ month job search after being laid off. here's what i learned:

Your resume should be your accomplishments, not your tasks. When I started searching, my bullet points in my resume were things like "used x software" or "wrote x content." Your resume should be you bragging. EX: "I used x software to turn around 100 deliverables a month," "I managed [x amount] sales associates and was named highest commission earner x months in a row." These don't have to be lifechanging things or massive projects -- any metric that demonstrates your capabilities well can do the job.

Make sure your resume is ATS optimized. Most jobs/companies use automated resume processing, and lots of great people get rejected this way. If you're getting rejection emails on Sunday morning or in the middle of the night, these are probably auto-rejections. ATS is the automatic system that sifts through resumes -- you can find free ATS-optimized templates online, I got min through resume.com. Do NOT use fancy graphics, headshots, any extraneous info. Use sites like jobscan to see if your resume is able to be parsed by an auto resume processor.

Use numbers. Make sure your resume has lots of numbers indicating your skills. "I helped my franchise achieve X% of revenue growth," "I drove x amount of deliveries daily." Any impressive numerical amounts are useful. If your company is tight-lipped about numbers, go to press releases. Ex: an app I did a considerable about of work for generated a lot of money that my company disclosed, so I put down that i contributed to that revenue via my work.

Have a template cover letter. Cover letters can give you an advantage, but they're tedious. Take note of what qualities are most sought-after in your field/ideal role, and write a generic cover letter that applies to most of them. When applying, do minor tweaks such as including the company name or any unique qualifications. Be careful about typos and leaving in old tweaks!

Use the free month of LinkedIn Premium if you're on there. I got some results from cold DMing recruiters for jobs I was interested in, and Premium lets you do that freely. Remember to cancel at the end of the month!

If you're looking for remote work, here are some boards I used: Remote.co, Otta, Remote Rocketship, Swooped, Best Writing (writing-focused)

[cvguys]

https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vRDXuviSBt235e3QCGPfinYwsHq2d1k1cq63qj2873KKN9BlhZ6Qp_bEYEWs8xV90ynaUOJV7vDuqtm/pub

[acaciusbride]

you write some of the best joel fics on this cursed site fr fr, amazing work and I have a request for a darkish!joel smut that’s inspired a little bit by the interrogation scene from ep8

Like instead of torture it’s consensual edging, and Joel is wanting the reader to say something specific, or to get her into a sub space. something like that but no pressure !! That scene just made me think… things, and wanted to share!

( thank you so much anon, I hope this is okay!)

“Look at me.” Joel taps your cheek lightly with his hand, not quite a slap, but close enough.

You turn your head to look at him, eyes glazed over with lust and sheer need for him. You wish you could touch him, but he has your hands tied, bound above your head with his belt, hooked to the bed frame.

“Are you gonna stop being such a brat and do as you’re told?” He’s not above making you wait even longer; you’d been mid fuck when you’d refused to do as you were told, and he’d simply… stopped. Keeping himself buried to the hilt inside you, but not moving. Using you to warm his cock, but giving you nothing in return.

It’s a battle of wills, and he’s far more stubborn than you are, rough fingers gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. He can see how close to breaking you are. Even so…

“Maybe.” You can’t help it, you love to taunt him, knowing the more you tease him, the more he’ll punish you. And you’re nothing if not a sucker for punishment.

He lays an open handed slap to your ass, dragging a strangled gasp from you; he has to bite back a groan at the way you tighten around him when he hits you.

“Wrong answer.”

You open your mouth but promptly shut it again when he spanks you a second time, harder this time. A muffled squeak all that falls from your lips, swollen from his bruising kisses.

“Gonna ask you one more time, darlin’, and if you don’t answer me like a good girl, I’ll leave you tied to the bed like the disobedient slut you are.” He’d struggle like hell to walk away from you, but you don’t need to know that. He can keep up this dominant persona forever, if need be.

The threat is enough to drag you into submission; you know he’d make good on his threat, probably sit on the chair in the corner and finish himself, make you watch, unable to touch him or yourself. It’s that more than the gleam in his eye that makes you submit to him.

You nod, and he surveys you for a moment before he speaks.

“Are you gonna do as you’re told?”

He half expects you to sass him again, but he knows from the look on your face that he’s won; he’s been teasing you for too fucking long, he can feel you trying to wriggle beneath him, desperate for some sort of friction.

“Yes, sir.” Your voice is hushed, too quiet; he can barely hear you.

“Can’t hear you, darlin.” But he relents just a little, shallowly rocking his hips against yours, teasing you enough to drag you to the edge.

“Yes, sir, I’ll be a good girl.”

Your sweet voice is music to his ears, exactly what he’s wanted from you.

“There we go, sweet girl, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” His hand soothes the mark he’s left on your ass before he seizes your thigh, hoists it up tight around his waist, and resumes his brutal pace, drowning in your screams, the only sound he ever needs to hear.

[lesbianchemicalplant]

Google confirms they will disable uBlock Origin in Chrome in 2024

Google confirms they will disable MV2 extensions including uBlock Origin in mid 2024 https://developer.chrome.com/blog/resuming-the-transition-to-mv3/ https://9to5google.com/2023/11/16/chrome-extensions-disabled/

(November 16th 2023)

from the comments (emphasis mine)—

[comment:] Not so fast there partner. Hill has prepared for the scenario with a new extension. https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/ublock-origin-lite/ddkjiahejlhfcafbddmgiahcphecmpfh

[reply:] Yes, but ublock origin lite lacks a lot of features that actually makes ublock the best:

“ uBO Lite: • Filter lists update only when the extension updates (no fetching up to date lists from servers) • Many filters are dropped at conversion time due to MV3's limited filter syntax • No crafting your own filters (thus no element picker) • No strict-blocked pages • No per-site switches • No dynamic filtering • No importing external lists ”

Source: https://www.reddit.com/r/uBlockOrigin/comments/1067als/eli5_ublock_lite_vs_ublock_origin/ Not being able to update the filters without having to update the extension itself is a really big deal! I mean when ublock 1.53 came out, it took google almost a freaking week to finally allow the new version. Why is that a big deal? Imagine that you have a site that you use a lot, that site then implements a way to detect adblock but you are stuck with ublock origin lite, in other words, you can't craft your own filter to by pass that site anti-adblocking (if you have the know how), you can't also come to ubo reddit to ask someone else to craft them for you and with that instantly solve the issue and you also don't have access to element picker which could also solve problem! Now, the only thing you can do? Report the problem to ubo team, then wait until they add the new filter which will bypass the antiblock to the new version of ubo lite which you don't know when its getting released and after that you will have to wait until google authorizes the new update to be released which like I've said, takes several days! Another example is youtube itself, if we were stuck with ubo lite right now, we would be losing the war against youtube anti-adblock badly! Because the only reason ubo is kinda able to keep up with youtube anti-adblocking is because after youtube updates their blocking script (which is every 12 hours), ubo team then updates their filters and then we as users just need to run the update manually inside the extension and boom we are back on business! Which won't be possible with ubo lite at all.

Firefox also plans to eventually deprecate MV2 (no timeline yet), BUT Firefox's implementation of MV3 will allow extensions like ublock origin and privacy badger to continue actually working:

Mozilla's implementation of Mv3 will differ in two critical ways from Google's. First, it will provide developers with access to the APIs Google considers too troublesome to retain.

"While other browser vendors introduced declarativeNetRequest (DNR) in favor of blocking Web Request in Mv3, Firefox Mv3 continues to support blocking Web Request and will support a compatible version of DNR in the future," said Shane Caraveo, engineering manager for WebExtensions at Mozilla, in a blog post. "We believe blocking Web Request is more flexible than DNR, thus allowing for more creative use cases in content blockers and other privacy and security extensions." (However, Caraveo says Firefox also intends to support DNR for its performance and compatibility characteristics. The blocking version of Web Request can slow things down if coded clumsily, so Mozilla wants developers to have the option to use the less intrusive and less dynamic DNR API.) Second, Mozilla is supporting Event Pages in Firefox's Mv3 implementation. Mv3 dispenses with persistent background pages – scripts that run in the background, potentially slowing things down and consuming resources. As an alternative, the spec provides Service Workers – scripts that run and then shut down. But the Service Workers API – which Mozilla intends to support eventually – does not have access to the Document Object Model (DOM) or other WebAPIs. So Event Pages – non-persistent background pages – provide more options for developers.

(obligatory: switching from chrome to firefox is easy. it can import your autofills, history, passwords, etc. without any headache. it is not hard to switch)

[negans-lucille-tblr]

My Worthless Love || Part One

Summary: At first, Dean can’t believe his luck that he gets to date a porn star, but soon the cracks start to show, and Dean gets to see a totally different side to the industry that bursts his bubble and leaves him torn. 

Rating: 18+

Part Tags: flirting, teasing, mentions of one night stands, fluff, mentions of being uncomfortable with attention, mentions of smut, watching porn, hints of masturbation, mentions of step father/daughter roleplay Part WC: ± 2.7K

A/Ns: Hope you enjoy this flangsty mini commissioned by Tina :)

My Worthless Love Masterlist || Read Parts 2-5 when you sub to my site/Patreon!

Dean’s POV

“Holy fucking shit, dude,” Dean gasps out, as he straightens up from taking his shot at the pool table and doesn’t even notice that the white ball goes nowhere near the stripe he could’ve easily potted. 

“You okay there, boss?” But Dean ignores Justin for a moment, still too captivated by the girl he’s just laid eyes on, watching her seem to effortlessly glide from the doorway to the bar. “Seriously?” 

This snaps Dean’s attention back to his employee, frowning slightly at the look of amusement on Justin’s face. 

“What?” he pries, taking his eyes off of the blonde for a brief second to look for the girl again and make sure she hasn’t just completely disappeared into thin air; that would be just his luck. 

“I know you’re my boss, but keep dreaming, man,” Justin laughs, stepping up to the table to take advantage of Dean’s distraction. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean presses, frowning at him. “You think a girl like her wouldn’t be interested in me?” 

“I know a girl like her wouldn’t be interested in you,” Justin scoffs. “Anyway, isn’t she like, half your age?” 

“How old do you think I am, dude?” Dean asks, amused. 

“Old enough to be her dad by the looks of it,” Justin teases with a smug grin, potting another ball. Dean hasn’t been counting how many that is now. 

“Fuck you,” Dean grunts, mildly insulted but more so totally captivated by the pretty girl still standing at the bar, talking to the bar man who is clearly very shameless in his flirting. So Dean’s not the only man she’s having this affect on – that does complicate things a little. Competition is always a challenge. “I’m gonna wipe the floor with you, then go and buy her a drink and prove you wrong.” 

“Good luck with that,” Justin laughs, a smug grin lighting up his face, and as Dean’s eyes land back on the pool table, he realises Justin’s almost cleared the table himself. 

Dean rolls his shoulders back and tells himself to focus on the game – if nothing else to knock his cocky employee down a peg or two – and takes his turn, this time potting all the balls he intends to, until only the black remains, and he looks up to flash Justin a wink before potting it. Justin rolls his eyes in an over-exaggerated fashion, but doesn’t seem too put out that he’s lost. Justin always loses to Dean, but the kid is getting better the more Friday nights they spend playing. 

“You might’ve beaten me, but I can’t wait to see you fail at the next part,” Justin smirks from behind his beer bottle before finishing it. “Y’know, she looks kinda familiar, you are okay with my sloppy seconds, right, boss?” 

“If I wasn’t, there’d be no one in this state left to fuck,” Dean retorts, flashing Justin a sarcastic smile and patting his shoulder condescendingly, making Justin laugh loudly. 

“Hey, I learned from the best,” Justin tries to argue back. “Fixing a car isn’t the only thing you’ve taught me, y’know.” 

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you already had ‘manslut’ in your resume before I hired you,” Dean argues, before making his way over to the bar. 

He clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair before he’s gotten too close, and manages to just about slide into the gap between her and the man standing with his back to her talking to a friend. He briefly glances over at her, noticing she’s just as gorgeous, if not more, up close, and clears his throat as he waits to be served. When he catches her looking his way, he gives her a sweet smile, but she doesn’t hold his gaze long enough for him to strike up a conversation, so he thinks on his approach another minute or two longer. 

His fingers begin to drum nervously on the bar top as he notices the barman approaching them, and he realises he’s running out of time. 

“What can I get you?” 

“Urm, two beers and… I’m feeling generous, so whatever this pretty lady beside me wants,” Dean forces a smile, mentally cursing himself for the terrible move. 

“Oh, I’m fine,” she insists, “but thank you.” 

Fuck. 

The barman nods, moving away to get the beers, and Dean clears his throat. “Sorry, didn’t wanna seem like a weirdo, just figured I’d be nice, buy a lonely lady a drink.” 

“No, it’s fine, it’s not weird,” she tells him softly. “I’m just still drinking this one,” she explains. 

“Alright,” Dean nods, admitting defeat. He fucked it from the moment he opened his mouth. He  let Justin get into his head. He doesn’t deserve to land someone like her now, anyway, even if it does mean he has to spend the rest of the evening listening to Justin tell him he told him so. 

“You mean that’s it?” she presses, frowning at him. 

Dean frowns back, now completely confused by what’s happening, barely thanking the barman when two bottles of beer are placed in front of him. 

“Not gonna persuade me?” 

“Do you… want me to persuade you?” Dean asks carefully, now completely lost. 

“No,” she replies simply. “Just most men would,” she shrugs. 

Dean finds his way through the confusion just enough to consider maybe he’s not completely blown it after all. 

“I’m not most men, sweetheart,” he laughs, softly. “Anyway, have a good night.” 

He smiles at her once again and grabs the beers, forcing himself not to look back at her reaction to his exit as he returns to the pool table and sees Justin has already set up the next game; clearly having no faith in Dean’s attempt to not be returning. 

“Knew you’d blow it,” Justin scoffs, taking his beer from Dean’s grasp. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Dean replies confidently, grabbing his pool cue. “I’ll break.” 

“Dude,” Justin whispers, glancing over Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean turns his head to see the girl from the bar approaching, outstretching her hand to offer him the beer in her grasp. 

“For me?” he asks, confused. 

She shrugs, playing with the straw in whatever girly drink is in her grasp and clears her throat. “Just to say thanks for not being a creep,” she tells him softly. 

“Oh, you’re welcome,” he nods, smiling nervously. “Urm, I’m Dean, by the way.” 

“Y/N,” she replies, biting her bottom lip softly before glancing over at Justin. “I’ll leave you to your night.” 

“No, it’s okay, Justin was actually just leaving, he’s gotta open up shop tomorrow,” Dean smiles, looking over at Justin pointedly. Justin frowns deeply and grumbles under his breath, reaching for his jacket. 

“He’s old enough to be your father, by the way,” he grumpily points out to Y/N as he passes her, shooting Dean a smug grin when she’s not looking, and Dean rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not,” he insists, hoping that hasn’t scared her off. 

“I’m used to older guys,” she shrugs. “So, I’ve seen you get a few good shots on this thing tonight, mind showing me a trick or two?” she asks, biting her bottom lip again. 

“Sure,” Dean nods, suddenly a little nervous but a whole lot excited he didn’t screw up that badly. 

Three Weeks Later

“I’m not joking, Dean, it was horrible,” she stresses, even though there’s still a laugh in her voice. 

“I don’t know, it sounds pretty funny to me,” Dean insists, laughing along. She glares at him playfully, and then looks back ahead of them as they continue to walk the length of the riverside. 

“Can you believe this is our third date, already?” Y/N asks, clearly trying to change the subject. 

“I think Justin is in more disbelief than I am,” Dean smirks. “The guy was adamant I couldn’t get your attention at the bar that night.” 

“A guy like Justin couldn’t get my attention,” she corrects, scoffing. 

“He’s convinced that you two have…” Dean trails off, realising that’s a really inappropriate thing to bring up. 

“Really?” she frowns. “No, I don’t know him,” she insists, shaking her head instantly. 

“I didn’t think so,” Dean rushes to remedy. “I mean, I would believe it from someone like him, but I didn’t… I don’t want you to think I would think of you… I… I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sorry. He just said he recognised you and, he can’t keep track of… it doesn’t matter,” Dean flusters. 

But he’s pretty sure he’s upset her, because the smile has completely gone from her face, and now she’s worrying her bottom lip with her teeth in the way Dean’s learned she does when she’s anxious. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologises again. “Forget I said that, please?” he begs. 

She clears her throat and nods her head, so Dean tries to relax again and focus on the great third date they were having, and all the hopes he’d had for this going finally somewhere remotely close to a bedroom. But now he’s pretty sure he’s blown that, at least. 

“Oh shit,” some guy drunkenly slurs as they begin to pass a bar. “I know you!” He points straight at Y/N who suddenly seems very uncomfortable with the entire situation. “Where do I know you from?” he asks, frowning in confusion. 

“That’s a really shitty way to hit on a woman on a date,” Dean calls over, laughing at the guy’s feeble attempt. 

“No, I know her,” he continues to insist. 

“You’re drunk, dude,” Dean points out the obvious, noticing Y/N getting more and more uncomfortable with the unwanted attention. He moves to stand the other side of her, between her and the drunk man, and puts his arm around her to offer her some comfort, before moving them on swiftly. “Are you okay?” he asks, as soon as they’re out of earshot. 

“Fine,” she insists, “I don’t know what that was.” 

“He’s drunk, he probably just wanted to hit on you,” Dean shrugs. 

“Yeah, probably,” she laughs awkwardly, nodding her head. “I just hate the attention,” she explains, hugging herself. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, sweetheart, but you do get a lot of it from men. One even walked into a door earlier,” Dean chuckles softly at the memory. “I know you can’t help it, but us men go a little stupid over girls as attractive as you.” But Y/N seems uncomfortable with the praise, so Dean decides to drop it, and clears his throat. “Do you wanna go somewhere private? My place isn’t far from here,” he offers. 

“Urm,” she stops, not looking him in the eye as she instead looks out over the river. “I know it’s our third date and there’s certain… expectations that come with that, but I think I wanna just go home, I’m sorry,” she tells him awkwardly. 

“No, yeah of course,” Dean reassures her. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean that,” he insists. While it had been on his mind most of the evening, after what had just happened, he was genuinely offering her refuge and a drink, but he understands how she might have taken it, and now he feels like an even bigger idiot than he did when he brought up Justin. “Listen, I had a great night, regardless how it ends, I just want you to know that,” he tells her. 

“Me too, Dean,” she smiles. “Sorry, I think I’m just tired.” 

“It’s fine,” Dean insists, shaking his head because an apology isn’t necessary. “Let me get you a cab.” 

He steps out towards the road and lifts his hand to flag down a cab, and as one pulls up to them, he smiles down at her. 

“Thanks, Dean, I’d like to do this again if you’re still interested,” she tells him timidly. 

“Yeah, I’d love to. I’ll text you,” he nods with a small smile. 

He’s surprised to see her rock up onto her toes and press her lips to his, and he kisses back for a brief second before she pulls away and gets into the cab beside them. He waves her off once she’s safely inside, and exhales heavily as he watches the cab drive away. Well he didn’t completely fuck it up, which is something he supposes, but he can’t help but think how weird it is that she gets so uncomfortable by male attention, and how reserved she seems to be regarding anything physical. 

As Dean begins his walk home he wonders if maybe she’s had a bad experience in the past, or maybe she has no experience at all. She is only twenty one, so it’s not a far cry that she could still be a virgin, and it would make sense why she seems closed off about things. But Dean also can’t help but feel like there’s something she’s not told him yet, like there’s a part of her he’s yet to see, and he wonders if that has anything to do with it. 

Dean sighs as he grabs a fresh beer from his fridge and begrudgingly heads towards his bedroom alone, thinking about his high hopes earlier that evening when he was leaving his bedroom, freshly showered and dressed for his date with Y/N, excited by the prospect of her coming back to his place with him. He’d even changed the bedsheets, and sprayed a lot of air freshener around the place. He’d tidied up and made sure there were condoms in his nightstand, and he’d even been out and bought the wine she had ordered the last two times they’d been on dates before. Dean had even gone as far as to not deal with the issue that arose in the shower when thinking about Y/N and what their evening might entail. He didn’t want to waste it on the shower floor, after all. 

So now, understandably, he’s a little pent up. 

He grabs his laptop as he heads into his bedroom and slumps down onto his bed, taking a swig of beer as he opens up the computer and spurs it to life. Like muscle memory he loads the internet and types in the first few letters of his favourite site, his laptop already filling in the blanks and all he has to do is press enter to be taken there. 

Placing his beer down on the nightstand, Dean clears his throat and ensures he’s a little more comfortable in his place as he scrolls the homepage looking at the featured video thumbnails until something sticks out to him. And something finally does. Not his usual type, judging by the title of the video, but there’s something about the glimpse of the girl in the thumbnail that’s appealing to him tonight. 

Summer Swallows coerced by Step-Daddy when mother leaves town

Dean’s never really been one to choose this kind of thing, but maybe he’s getting too bored of his regular entertainment, anyway. Maybe it’s about time he spiced things up a little. He clears his throat and readjusts himself once more, clicking play and watching the titles play out. Already bored, he cuts to five or so minutes in, glad it’s the trimmed version and not the full forty minute version the site is advertising if you pay for it. It cuts to an upshot of the man’s face, twisted, his lip caught between his teeth as he groans and stares down his body, and then the camera cuts to the girl playing his step-daughter, on her knees and pleasing him with her mouth, and Dean sits up straight, his eyes widening as he blindly fumbles for his cell on the nightstand and pauses the video right there on her face. 

“Sammy?” he chokes out. “You won’t believe what I’ve just found.”  

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