#but this is something I've been thinking about for a while

[cheriladycl01]

And … by Uber, I mean texting my boyfriend Franco - Franco Colapinto x Reader

Plot: In which you always seem to use your boyfriend as a convenient Uber and the media start to pick up on it!

You were being interviewed by the media while you were stood in the paddock waiting for your boyfriend to come out of his motorhome.

“Ah there’s Franco Colapinto’s girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N. I’ve never spoken to her before but rumours around the paddock say she’s just as funny as her partner and she’s very sweet. Let’s go haggle her” Martin says into the camera that’s following him through his Grid Walk

“Y/N! Y/N hi hello, Martin Brundle from Sky Sports! Can we chat?” He asks you, your head whipping round at the sound of your name.

“Oh hi! How are you today?” You smile kindly as you reach out to shake his hand.

“I’m good, I’m good! Glad I’ve bumped into you!” He smiles and you nod.

"So Y/N how have you found the paddock!" Martin asks, moving the microphone a little closer to you.

“It’s really welcoming! Everyone here has been so kind to me, and I’ve made tons of new friends with Lily last year when Franco was in Williams and Kika this year! But I’ve also spoken to Oscar’s Lily, Alexandra and a few of the other girls and their all really sweet, it’s nice to have people other than Franco” you explain and he nods a smile on his face.

“Ah that’s brilliant, that’s something we love here. All about family and keeping those close connections right?” He asks and you again nod.

“Mmmm, yes I’ve become very close to Kika! We’re going shopping together after qualifying tomorrow!” You exclaim happily, you’d become incredibly close to Kika. You pretty much hung out with her all the time now.

Originally, you’d been very shy when Franco underwent his first year in F1. He was the hotshot new rookie who came in to replace Logan and he ended up being phenomenal. Which led to him getting pretty popular VERY quickly. Which frightened you as it meant you’d be more in the limelight.

You’d remained towards the back, silently cheering him on whenever you were able to attend a race and kept off camera.

However now that he’d gotten a seat in Alpine, he was begging for you to appear so … in his words he didn’t seem like ‘a lonely flirty man whose desperate for attention’ you’d of course joked back and said take out the lonely and that’s a pretty accurate description of him.

“So we’re happy you’ve settled into paddock life so quickly, but let’s move onto the racing questions?” Martin asks and you nod your head. You actually knew a pretty decent amount about your boyfriend’s sport and once he introduced you to it and his world you became increasingly interested in not just the sport but the engineering behind it.

"So obviously you were here last year when Franco stepped in for Williams, how was that knowing that those last few races for him, could be his last time ever in formula one?" Martin asks and your smile remains despite the question.

"Franco and i have dated for a while now and been friends for even longer. So i've always known he'd make it. Last year was stepping stones and i think everyone could see how promising he was with the way he was pulling points from that Williams and now that he's taken on this role in Alpine i can see him being a stellar driver for years to come!" you explain Martin seeming happy with your answer.

"Well that will mean we get to see much more of you which im sure everyone in the paddock will be incredibly happy about!"

"Yeah, I wasn't into racing at all before i met Franco at school and thats when he asked me to go to one of his races in the lower catergorys. I swore i was going to be so bored but the thrill was insane, looking out for Franco on track became my new fravrioute thing... and it still is!" you grin and Martin laughs, the imagine of a younger you cheering on for Franco now planted in his mind.

"Anyway I'm so sorry Martin but i have to go I gotta go get my Uber. And by Uber ... I mean my boyfriend Franco" you joke and he looks at you in mock shock.

"You don't drive?" he asks and you look down a little embarrased.

"I do, but im not the best. Franco's terrified whenever I'm behind the wheel. He actually refuses me to drive now!" you admit shyly and Martin just laughs.

"And Franco, he doesn't try and teach you?" he asks in shock and you nod.

"He's tried but i genuinely think I'm unteachable. I have no clue how i passed my test, so a passenger princess i will remain" you sing the last note making a crown motion over your head.

"Ah and here he is now Franco Colapinto the Uber!" Martin says before you boyfriend comes up to the both of you.

"Are you okay?" he asks you concerned knowing you get a little camera shy and don't really like being incredibly public.

"Mmmmm yeah" you smile kissing the side of his face before taking a hold of his hand.

“I’m an uber?” He asks with a laugh raising an eyebrow at the interviewer.

“According to Y/N you’re her personal taxi driver” Martin intervenes.

“Oh! Yes! You didn’t know? My day job is a chauffeur for this lovely lady” he says pulling you in for a hug, laughing at you.

“Ah well it was lovely talking to you both, but I think times up as you guys have some Alpine members running to come get you! I think maybe you’re needed Franco. Lovely to see you both!” Martin says before continuing on his grid walk.

“An uber seriously?” He asks holding you at arms length as he looks over you.

“WHAT! Come on I was having fun!” You laugh hitting his shoulder before he wraps and arm around you, walking to meet his team that have been looking for him.

“You’re a menace!”

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[sturniolobliss]

⌗ . . . ❛ 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 ❜ christopher sturniolo.

warnings ◞ ˚˖ ࣪ ex!chris, light angst, emotional vulnerability, drunk calling, explicit and suggestive content, heartbreak, longing, mentions of masturbation, guilt . . . etc.

note ◞ ˚˖ ࣪ bow divider by @/bernardsbendystraws · · ୨୧

read part two next!

you miss the first call. then the second. by the time your phone lights up for the third time—chris, glowing across the screen—your chest tightens with that old, unwelcome ache you've spent weeks trying to forget.

you don't answer.

not the fourth time. not the fifth.

by the seventh, he stops calling. starts leaving voicemails instead.

you stare at the notifications for a while, thumb hovering. you know better. you know exactly what this will do to you.

still, you press play.

voicemail one — 2:06am

0:47

"hey. s'me. i mean… obviously s'me, right?"

he laughs, light and bitter. you can already tell he's been drinking. his voice is thick, a little slower than usual.

"i don't even know why m'calling. i shouldn't be. i just—fuck. i miss you. i know m'not supposed to say that. i swore i wouldn't say that.”

a pause. you can hear him breathing.

"i think you'd be proud, though. i've been really good at pretendin'. like you don't come up when someone mentions that movie we loved or when i see someone with that hairstyle you always got or hear a song that sounds like you. i jus' swallow it. every time. like s'nothin'. but tonight i guess i forgot how to do that."

beep.

voicemail two — 2:11am

1:28

"you remember that playlist you made me? the one with all the dumb transitions? i listened to it tonight."

a quiet sound, maybe the shuffle of him sitting down.

"it still smells like you in my hoodie. i don't even wear it anymore. jus'—jus' leave it folded. fuck, i sound pathetic."

another pause. longer this time. then:

"i keep dreamin' 'bout you. about your hands. about the way you used to look at me when y'wanted somethin'. i wake up hard and aching and still smelling you in the sheets, even though you're not there. even though s'jus' me."

his voice drops, softer now, tired.

"you ruined me, y'know that?"

beep.

voicemail three — 2:18am

2:14

"i keep tryin' to find pieces of you in other people."

the silence on this one stretches. you hear the drag of a sigh, like he's trying not to cry.

"but they don't laugh like you. they don't kiss like you. they don't know how to touch me the way you did. no one ever fuckin' knew like you did."

his voice breaks on that last part. your throat goes tight.

"and i hate it. i hate you for it. for knowin' me that well. for leavin' anyway."

then quieter, like it slips out without permission—

"i'd let you wreck me again if it meant you'd come back."

beep.

voicemail four — 2:24am

3:09

he's whispering now. and you realize, with a jolt, he's not alone in his bed.

he's talking to you like you are.

"you used to say my name so sweet, remember? chris. chris. chris—like it was yours."

a rustle of blankets, maybe skin.

"sometimes i touch myself to the sound of your voice. not even dirty shit—jus' the way you'd say good morning. or fuck off. or i love you."

your breath catches.

"m'hard right now. been hard since the second ring."

you freeze.

"i don't care if you listen to this. i want you to. i want you to know you still do this to me. that no one's ever made me fall apart jus' by existing."

he groans softly.

"you always knew how to break me. and you always loved it."

beep.

voicemail five — 2:32am

4:11

"y'said no one else would understand me the way you did."

he's breathless now. slower. like he's working through something, deep in it.

"you were right. they don't."

a low noise—his throat, a choked-off moan.

"i was gonna call someone else tonight. someone easy. but it didn't feel right. because she's not you. her hands aren't yours. her mouth doesn't taste like fire and vanilla chapstick and every fuckin' thing i ever needed."

you close your eyes, biting your lip.

"if you were here right now, i'd get on my knees. tell you m'sorry. beg. let you sit on my face until i couldn't breathe. jus' to feel useful again."

his breathing is louder now. uneven.

"you always made me feel owned. and i fuckin' loved it."

beep.

voicemail six — 2:38am

1:59

"i came," he says, and it's so quiet, so wrecked, your heart nearly caves in.

"i came thinkin' about you. still holdin' my phone. still waitin' for you to pick up."

he laughs, but it's hollow.

"you didn't. you won't. i know.”

a pause.

"but fuck, i needed you to hear it. needed you to know i still think about you. every time. every fuckin' time."

another pause. longer. heavier.

"god, m'so tired. i miss your voice. i miss your laugh. i miss your mouth and the way you used to pull my hair and tell me to be quiet."

you can hear it again in his voice—the unspoken thing underneath.

"you always ruined me in the best ways. i think you still are."

beep.

voicemail seven — 2:43am

0:22

"delete these," he says, voice almost clear this time.

"or don't. i don't care. jus'… don't hate me more than you already do."

a soft inhale.

"i meant all of it."

click.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ : @sturniolo-szn2 / @mattscoquette / @sturnsflirt / @tezzzzzzzz . . . .ᐟ

comment or message to get added · · ୨୧

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or being under the stars with him.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ posting this one hour early because i need to sleep !!

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

the ache in your head caused by the one too many drinks you'd had the night before was so strong you were sure even half a bottle of aspirin wouldn't be enough to help, but what was worse, was the case of hangxiety looming over you as the night's events came back to you.

you hid your head in your hands; you couldn't believe you'd ranted to some random guy about your issues, your anxieties. even worse, you'd probably annoyed the hell out of MalachiConstant with your drunken messages. you grabbed your pillow and pressed it to your face in it, screaming into the soft fabric.

meanwhile, rafe had spent most of the night rolling in bed. he stared down at his phone screen, before running a hand through his hair and letting out a sigh. no matter how much time he'd spent thinking about you, about how he could finally put a face to the girl he'd spent weeks talking to. he didn't know what he was supposed to do next.

fuck.

the whole point of your… thing was to be anonymous. he had no idea how you'd react if you knew who rafe was. he wasn't an idiot, he knew the kind of reputation he had around the college. he knew what people thought about him. entitled, rich fuckboy.

you were the first person who hadn't judged him, the first person who saw rafe as he was. but if you found out who he really was… he doesn't think you'd see him the way youb

he let himself crash back into bed. rafe took one more glance at his phone, before turning it off and staring up at the wooden ceiling; the boy needed to figure out what to do.

is he going to keep it a tell you that he knows who you are and risk you never talking to him again, or is he going to keep hiding it just to hold onto you a little bit longer? it was too early and rafe was too damn hungover to think about these kinds of things.

his slippers made a soft, rhythmic noise against the hardwood floors as he lazily made his way down into the kitchen. rafe pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed an energy drink, the tab letting out a hiss as he opened it and took a large chug.

"hungover much?"

rafe's eyes widened when he heard the voice coming behind him, turning around to see a familiar pink-haired girl standing there, an oversized shirt on her frame he immediately recognized as belonging to topper. "not really." he shrugged, "you guys fuckin' again?"

"you make it sound so crude." vivian rolled her eyes yet grinned as she made her way to the coffee maker, "it's just a bit of drunken fooling out. nothing huge. i am surprised about one thing, though."

"and what's that?"

"that in the few days we've been here i haven't seen any half-naked girls leaving your room." vivian narrowed her eyes as she poured coffee into a cup, "do you have a secret girlfriend or something?"

"no." rafe snorted, "i can go a few days without sleeping with someone. i'm not that big of a fuckboy."

"uh, yeah you are." vivian said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "every time i've slept over in topper's room, the next morning i'd see at least one girl come out of your room and do the walk of shame. so, what gives? you have a crush or something?"

rafe snorted as if the girl had said something absurd, taking another chug out of the can, "i'm not talking to you about crushes." "so you admit that you have a crush." vivian grinned. "not admitting shit." rafe grumbled, before clearing his throat, "you seen your friend?"

"emilia's probably—" "not emilia." rafe interrupted the girl before she could finish her sentence, making vivian narrow her eyes in suspicion, "why are you curious about her?"

rafe shrugged his shoulders, slightly defensively, "just askin'." "i thought you were into emilia." "i never said that." vivian crossed her arms, cocking her head to the side, "if you try to play one of my friends, especially my best friend, i will feed little rafe to pigs before you have enough time to beg for forgiveness." vivian's threat only made rafe roll his eyes, but the girl continued, "i'm not kidding. she's a fragile person, and i'm not gonna allow someone who thinks with their dick take advantage of her and ghost her once he gets laid."

"jesus, do you really think that little of me?"

"i know guys like you. hell, i am a guy like you, rafe." vivian took a tentative sip of her coffee, "i refuse to watch her get hurt. so if i were you, i'd seriously think about what i do."

you didn't receive a single message from MalachiConstant for the rest of the break. it was now the night before you were bound to go back to school, your hair flowing in the cool night wind as you leaned on the balcony railing, looking up at the few dim stars up on the sky.

you felt so stupid for being emotional over a random guy online ignoring you; for allowing him to have such an impact. you sighed, about to push yourself away from the railing, before you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

when you turned your head, you saw rafe standing at the doorway, "oh. it's you." you mumbled quietly, before facing forward again. the boy let out a snort of laughter, and you could hear him approach you, "don't sound so disappointed."

"sorry." you said with a tight-lipped smile, drawing patterns on the wooden railing with the tip of your finger, "i just have a lot on my mind." "yeah? like what?" "you wouldn't get it."

"won't know until you try." rafe said, making you roll your eyes, "i don't know. it's stupid." you shrugged. "there was someone i was starting to like, but suddenly he just cut me off out of nowhere."

"oh." rafe took a moment. he'd needed time to think about things, needed time to decide what to do next. he hadn't even considered that his absence could affect you.

"i bet that's never happened to you." you said with a quiet, slightly self-conscious laugh, "i bet you've done that to people." rafe looked down at his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. you weren't wrong, and he couldn't help the slight pang of guilt in his chest at the thought. "but, uh, that happened to me. and i've never been great with people, so finally connecting with someone and then have this happen feels like crap."

"maybe… maybe he's just been busy." rafe scratched the back of his neck, his words making you let out a humorless huff of laughter, "i love the optimism. unfortunately i'm more of a hopeless realist. but i'll be okay. at least i can focus more on studying."

"come on. give the poor guy a break. i happen to be an expert on how the male brain works and sometimes, we can be a little dumb." "only sometimes?" you asked with raised brows, making rafe shake his head and smile. "most of the time."

you straightened up and look up at the half-crescent moon and the stars on the sky, "is it bad that i'm excited to go back to college?" "you seem the type to be." rafe said quietly, making you snort, "way to kick a girl while she's down." you nudged his side. "what? i feel like half the time i've seen you, your head's been buried in a book."

"you been watching me?" you raise your brows inquiringly, only for him to give you a small, slightly flirtatious smile, leaning into you. "what if i have?" you shake your head even as warmth slowly creeps up your neck.

you let out a small sigh, tracing the constellations above, tracing them with your finger, "god, i love the stars." "i know." the boy's statement made you furrow your brows, only for him to let out a soft chuckle, "you told me that the night we first met. and you did that whole finger thing."

rafe's hand moved to take hold of the back of your hand, the feel of his warm hand holding onto your cold one causing a shiver to run down your chest spine, your breath momentarily knocked out of you. he was looking up at the sky, but you couldn't help but stare at him.

but when he finally looked at you, there was a smile on his lips, "the night we met, your eyes were pretty much twinkling with stars." as you listened to his words, you couldn't help but glance down at his lips before looking back up into his icy blue eyes. your heart was pounding against your chest so hard you could've sworn it might burst out, "i need to tell-"

"goodnight, rafe." you say abruptly, pulling away from him unable to resist the need to put some distance between you and him, rafe's lips twisting into a slight frown before the boy cleared his throat, "goodnight, shooting star."

you rushed back into the room you shared with emilia and vivian; the former already asleep and the latter gone from her bed, as expected. you laid down on your own bed, placing your hand on your chest to hopefully calm your racing heart, only for your phone to let out a ping!

when you opened your phone, your eyes widened slightly in surprise.

MalachiConstant: sorry i haven't been texting MalachiConstant: i'm thinking about you tho MalachiConstant: and i miss you

TAGLIST: @yktayy9669 @tinythebunni @dywho @melalsworld @akobx @samwinchesterisawhore @st8rkey @jjasmiineee @ltristessedureratoujours @a-lovers-card @uselessnewt @lunaleah @letstryagaintomorrow @cinnamqnnlatte @papapoy @kay133sposts @wtfisastiles @butterfly1c @emmiesummers @melodyyybubbles @toomanywhitelies @littl3loveydovey @scne-vampire @alwaysmaybank @mysticbby2009 @luna443 @drewstarkeyswife-7 @flowerluvr @kisselxoll - cont. in com

[sceletaflores]

KILLING ME ANY WAY BUT SOFTLY...

|| masterlist || update blog || inbox || taglist || ao3 ||

｡𖦹°‧￫ PAIR: Joel Miller x fem!reader x Tommy Miller

｡𖦹°‧￫ WC: 5.5k

｡𖦹°‧￫ CONTAINS: 18+ SMUT MDNI, DDDNE W/ NON-CON & DUB-CON THEMES, no outbreak au, some pov switching, smoking, drinking, large age gap, unspecified but still brought up, joel and tommy are NOT good men, drugging, somnophilia, fingering, oral sex (f/m!receiving), nat writing a blowjob scene? the world must be ending, dacryphilia, more finger sucking (i can't stop…), p in v, unprotected sex, hair pulling, biting, blood, pain kink, creampie, mentions of prior assault, it's just super gross and super perverted yk, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

｡𖦹°‧￫ NAT’S NOTE: i thought of this like halfway through my frankie fic but i was good and didn't start it until i was finished writing. be very proud of me because that never happens...anyway i've never written a dark fic before so this was very interesting slash fun in like the most morbid way possible. this was also partially inspired by angel @pedgito! PLAYTHING altered my brain chemistry so badly that i needed to partake in the depravity or i would die, like it was medical. everyone go read it and shower her with so much praise and love! once again please please please heed the tags and take your own personal triggers into account before reading. hope y'all love it, mwah!

dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics! special shoutout to @iamasaddie for the icons!

you spend a night with the miller brothers…

You're too pretty to be at a place like this. Too soft. Too young.

That's what Joel Miller thinks the second he sees you.

All done up in short little cutoffs, sipping at something fruity and colorful out of a sweaty glass. Your legs are crossed neatly in front of you like you’re pretending to be grown, pretty white teeth idly chewing on the plastic straw as your eyes bounce around the room curiously.

This bar is too old, too dirty, too mean. The kind of place with dark, sticky floors and crude words carved into the tabletops. Joel’s probably been coming here since before you were born, since before you could walk, talk. 

You’re the youngest in the room by well over a decade—and that’s not lost on anyone. Not on the bartender who checked your ID twice, not on the group of bikers throwing dirty leers your way from the pool table, and sure as hell not on the two men at each end of the bar.

Tommy would call you jailbait, all dewy cheeks and big dumb eyes. Joel clocks you as one of those college girls from the next town over, still clinging onto that teenage naivety and misplaced hope that the real world won’t chew you up and spit you out a mangled mess.

The kind of girl who lies about her age to older men because the attention makes her feel special. The kind who doesn't even realize she’s being hunted until it’s too late.

You're still sweet, Joel thinks. Sweet and soft and stupid.

And he’s right, he always is.

You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.

But Joel? Joel knows exactly what he’s doing.

He catches Tommy’s eye from across the way, jerks his head in your direction discreetly. Tommy follows his eyeline, his face sparking with interest at the look of you. Hungry eyes rake over the expanse of your body with all the subtlety of a shotgun blast, lingering on the soft swell of your breasts through that flimsy top and the bare skin of your thighs.

Tommy cuts his eyes back to Joel after a good long look, brows raised in obvious approval. He nods once, a winner, before his gaze wanders back to you and he’s shifting impatiently in his seat. A moth to a flame.

Joel huffs over the rim of his glass, unamused. He should’ve figured, they haven’t found one as pretty as you in a while. His brother’s bound to get a little rowdy, a little eager.

Out of the two of them, Tommy’s always been the more excitable one. That’s why it’s Joel’s job to set the bait. Tommy’s certainly prettier than Joel, he’s got a safer look to him. He’s just too damn trigger happy, comes on too strong too quick. It can raise red flags.

Joel’s better at playing it down, at taking it slow. He can butter girls like you up and still feign just the right amount of disinterest to keep them wanting his attention. He can tell you’re one of those types, one that’ll preen under anything he gives you. You want someone like him to come over and fawn over you.

You want to feel mature. Powerful. Sexy.

You’re practically begging to be used. He sees it in the way your thighs squeeze together, in the way your glossy lips leave smudges along the rim of your glass.

Joel smiles to himself. 

If you only knew.

Joel waits until you finish off your second drink. He sips at his whiskey and watches the way your tongue swipes along your bottom lip to chase a drop of syrupy liquid. You’re tipsy now, giggling at something the bartender says, the dazed glow of your eyes giving away just how sweetly warm you feel.

You’re still in your right mind, not drunk enough to be sloppy, not yet. That’s how he wants you—pliable, loose, thinking you’re the one still in control. 

He downs the rest of his drink in one go, the familiar burn coating his throat and settling in his chest as he slides off his stool. It takes nothing to make his way over, a few long strides and he’s leaning up next to you. Not too close, just close enough to smell the perfume you’re wearing—something bright and sugary that has his cock stirring behind his fly.

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doin’ in a place like this, sweetheart?” he asks, voice as deep as molasses and twice as slow, Southern charm oozing from every word.

You turn, blinking up at him, pupils a little too blown to be from two drinks alone. It makes him grin. You’re sensitive, easy. This might be a hell of a lot simpler than he thought.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you chirp, voice sugarcoated, a little too bold for your own good. “A place like this seems kinda…grungy for someone wearing flannel.”

That bright little smile of yours is like a hook in the roof of his mouth, tugging something dark and mean loose behind his teeth.

Joel chuckles low in his chest. “You sayin’ I look outta place?”

You shrug, all coy-like, swirling the last few sips of your drink. “A little.”

Joel leans in then, just enough for it to mean something. His eyes pin you down like a thumb over the belly of a butterfly, giving you a little once over that has your breath hitching. Your lips part, showing off the teasing pink of your tongue. Joel thinks about pushing into that sweet little mouth, getting that gloss all messy on his cock. 

“Maybe I was waitin’ on somethin’ worth comin’ out for,” he says, voice gone low and smoky.

You giggle, that tipsy, flirtatious little sound. You don’t notice the way Joel signals the bartender with two fingers and a single nod. He already knows what he’s ordering—something that’ll go down smooth but hit you fast. A new drink is slid in front of you before you can blink, warm amber liquid swirling in a clear tumbler.

You look confused. “I didn’t—”

“On me,” Joel says, voice slick. “Try it.”

You hesitate for just a second before bringing it to your lips, eager to please. Eager to prove you can keep up. You make a face when the smell hits you, strong and punchy. Joel just grins, already amused by the way you wrinkle your nose like it’s cute to be difficult.

“C’mon now, can’t drink that sweet shit all night,” he drawls, lifting his glass in a mock toast. “Gotta learn how to hold your liquor, baby.”

You giggle again, your fingers dainty around the tumbler as you mimic his movement. He watches you sip and watches your throat bob as you swallow. Watches the little wince, the tremble in your lips as it hits your system.

“Good girl.” Joel smiles around the rim of his own drink, eyes wandering over to where Tommy was sitting. He’s long gone now, a few bills shoved under the empty glass sitting on the bartop.

Joel turns back to you, clueless and sipping slowly at your whiskey. He drops his hand from the bar, lets his fingers brush against the soft skin of your thigh. You don’t flinch, hardly even bat an eye. You just smile up at him, lashes low and lazy against your cheeks, body heat rising with the alcohol laced through your bloodstream.

Your thigh twitches under his knuckles, but you don’t move away. If anything, you lean in a little, nudging your shoulder against his arm. Your shirt slips down a few inches, showing off the lacy trim of your bra snug over your breasts. Joel sets his drink down, tongue sweeping over his bottom lip at the sight.

“You always this friendly with strangers?” he murmurs, voice quiet enough that only you can hear it, eyes dragging up to your face.

Your lips part again, catching the low bar light. “Only when they’re buying my drinks.”

Joel laughs—deep, rich with something secret. 

And he orders another round.

It takes almost nothing for Joel to get you off your stool and obediently following him out of the bar. A few sweet words and lingering touches is all you needed, liquor clouding your good judgement when you agree to come home with him.

It’s still warm, even with the sun long gone and the moon casting a white shine over the two of you. Crickets sing in the grass as you walk together, Joel’s hand splayed out across the small of your back, thumb slipped up under the hem of your shirt to rub soft circles over the notches of your spine as he gently steers you towards his truck.

The drive to his house isn’t long, a little less than ten minutes. Joel’s knee bounces impatiently as he watches the road, window rolled down so he can flick the ash of his cigarette out. It gives him something to do with his hands, something to chew on before he can get at what he really wants.

You’re sitting pretty in the passenger seat, giddy as you swipe even more sticky gloss on in the truck mirror, asking dumb questions like “Is that your guitar in the back?” and “You live all the way out here?” 

Joel grins around the filter and exhales slow, smoke curling through the cab like a warning.  “Mhm. I like it quiet.”

You laugh, all honeyed sunshine, no idea that you’re being carted out into the woods like a lamb prepped for slaughter.

His house is tucked back further in the trees, down a road so far out it turns from asphalt to dirt. Not a neighbor in sight, nothing but grass and dark skies for miles. The porch light is already on when he pulls in, gravel crunching under his tires loud in the quiet. Another truck takes up the space next to his, red with the paint peeling like a nasty sunburn.

You peer up at the place with shiny, awed eyes like you’re some damn princess and this is your castle. It makes him want to ruin you even more.

The truck’s barely in park before Joel’s out and striding over to your side, opening the door for you to keep up his Southern gentleman act. You thank him with a bold little kiss on the cheek before making your way to the door. Joel rubs at the sticky mark you left behind with his thumb, flicking the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

He tosses the keys on the counter after you step inside, booted feet dragging heavy across the floor as he watches you wander around, fingers trailing over worn furniture and sun-bleached curtains. It’s not much, but you look impressed anyway.

“Cute,” you hum, bending over to peek down the hallway. He can see the way your shorts ride up the curve of your ass, lace peeking out just like before. Your turn to him, arms crossed behind your back as you sway on the balls of your feet. “This isn’t the part where you murder me, right?”

It’s light, teasing. An innocent joke.

Joel’s smile is tight as he walks to the kitchen. “Not unless you ask me real nice.”

You laugh again, that breathy little sound, and Joel listens for the faintest edge of unease. He’s gotten good at that—spotting the cracks before they show, gauging how much of a fight this might be.

You’ve been good since the bar, and Joel hopes it stays that way. He wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face because you tried acting out.

Joel busies himself in the kitchen, back turned as he opens a cabinet and pulls out a couple glasses. He grabs some things out of the fridge, well aware that you can’t see the little silver tin hiding in his armful of honey and bourbon.

“You like it sweet, right?” he calls over his shoulder, masking the rasp in his voice. “Figured you’d need a chaser after that whiskey.”

“Aw,” you say from your spot on his couch, clearly drunk on attention, “you’re taking such good care of me.”

Joel laughs as he rounds the corner, handing you a glass. “Only fair, since you’re bein’ so good for me.”

“I’m already in your house, Joel. You don’t need to lay it on so thick anymore.” You take the drink with a smile, clinking it against his own before bringing it to your lips.

He watches the slow press of your lips to the rim, the way your throat moves when you swallow, how you down half the glass in one long pull. It has him shifting in place, his cock straining against the rough denim of his jeans. He sets his glass down on the coffee table, untouched, and leans back against the cushions. 

You turn to him, your gaze languidly roaming over his body. Over where his shirt is stretched tight across his chest, where his arms rest on the back of the couch, where his legs are spread wide. Your eyes are hungry, pupils blown wide and dark as midnight.

Joel lets you look, waits until you make it back up to his eyes to jerk his head in an obvious invitation. “C’mere, baby.”

You bite your lip, setting your glass down next to his and crawling over to him without another word. Your arms loop around his neck, knees on either side of him as you settle in his lap. His hands fall to your hips, thumbs sliding up and down the waistband of your cutoffs.

Your lips part under his like they were made to, your soft sigh swallowed up by the hot press of his mouth. He kisses you hard, slow and deep, like he’s been starving for it. You taste like lemon and honey, the sharp bite of his bourbon buried somewhere beneath all the sweetness.

Joel’s hands tighten on your hips, dragging you closer as he nips at your plush bottom lip. “Feels good, doesn't it, sugar?”

You nod, moaning as you bury your hands in his hair. Your lips part easily for his tongue, letting him claim your mouth. Joel groans, pressing the hard line of his cock over your clothed cunt, chuckling darkly at the high whine you breathe into the space between you both.

He lets you have your fun, necks with you on his couch like a couple of horny teenagers while he waits. 

Sure enough, after a while, he can feel the first few signs trickling in. Your grip on his hair goes slack, your lips grow lazy and slow against his own, your posture slips into something more relaxed and hunched over, leaning on him heavily.

Joel pulls back, a single strand of spit connecting your lips before it dips and breaks under the weight of gravity. You’re panting, mouth slick and swollen as your chest heaves with every breath. Your chin is red and raw, scratched up from his beard. 

It takes a second for you to open your eyes, blinking at him sluggishly. You look nice and fucked, pupils so big he can hardly see the color around them anymore, glassy and unfocused in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol filling up the half empty glass on his coffee table.

“Joel…” It’s hardly a whisper, so soft and breathy. “Feels funny…tired…”

“Poor thing,” he tuts, squeezing your hips once. “Let’s get you on your back.”

You go easy enough, let him push your shoulders down until you’re splayed out across the couch. Your eyes slip shut again, your breath evening out as it finally sinks its claws in you.

Joel grins, wastes no time before he’s on his feet and sliding his arms under you. You don’t make a sound as he lifts you, your body completely pliant, head lolling to rest on his chest.

He starts down the hallway to his bedroom, the light on and bleeding through the bottom of the door to shine dimly over the carpet.

And like a ship being led safely to port by the fiery orange glow of an old light house, Joel walks, and he whistles as he goes.

You feel like you're floating, mind groggy and filled with the cloudy haze of sleep. The bourbon must have hit you harder than you thought.

The air is cold but your skin is so warm. Your limbs are heavy when you try to move, like you’re suspended in a thick, syrupy water.

Your fingers twitch against something soft. Sheets. You’re in a bed now. That much registers. You can feel the give of the mattress beneath you, the press of a pillow behind your head, the way your legs are bare.

Were you wearing shorts earlier?

Were you?

You pry your eyes open, barely having enough energy to. The world is warped, stretched at the edges like a funhouse mirror. Your vision swims, and all you can make out is light—the orange cast of a bedside lamp. The bulb buzzes faintly in your ear, the sound low and persistent, like it’s drilling into your brain.

That’s when you feel it, featherlight pressure making its way down your bare stomach. It’s soft, almost ticklish.

It takes your mind a few long seconds to catch up, to realize what’s happening.

There are hands on your body.

A slow, possessive drag over your thigh. Calloused fingers part your legs, thumb dipping just beneath the hem of your panties. You try to shift, try to close your legs, but you barely twitch.

You stir, a soft sound pushing out of your parted lips as you grip the sheets harder than before. 

“Shhh, baby,” he murmurs, pressing wet kisses down your neck. “You were beggin’ for it all night, remember?”

Joel. 

It comes flooding back to you in stages. The bar. The whiskey. The truck. 

It goes fuzzy after that, you can’t remember anything past sliding onto Joel’s lap. 

You whimper, body moving sluggishly under him. You try to twist away but it’s useless—he’s strong, and you’re dizzy and weak and pinned.

“You said I could fuck you,” he whispers, calloused fingers rubbing slow circles over your clit. “Said you wanted it bad. Don’t back out now, sweetheart. That’d be real mean.”

You sob, but your body betrays you—hips rocking forward against his hand, chasing the teasing pressure of his touch. Your eyes screw shut, tears burning hot and wet in your waterline. 

Joel hums, fingers spreading you open like he’s flipping through pages of a well-loved book. “Look at you,” he mutters, voice thick with want. “Fuckin’ leaking through these sweet little panties. This sweet pussy’s just beggin’ to be filled.”

You don’t hear the footsteps at first.

Not until the floorboards creak by the door.

A new voice filters in from somewhere far away, piercing through the cotton in your ears. It’s different from Joel’s, that same Southern twang but just a little lighter. A little smoother, like honey laced with iron.

“Thought I heard you gettin’ started without me.”

Your eyes snap open.

There’s a man in the doorway.

He’s shorter than Joel by a few inches, leaner too but just as broad in the shoulders. Another strong, blue collar looking type—a man that works with his hands.

Joel lifts his head with a lazy grin, glancing over his shoulder. “Not my fault you took your sweet fuckin’ time, Tommy.”

You try to move, try to push at Joel’s chest, but your arms are still too heavy to listen. “I don’t—” you start, but he hushes you again, thick fingers still sliding up and down the wet seam of your pussy over your panties. 

“I know, sugar,” he murmurs, all mock sympathy. “S’too much to think about, huh? Why don’t you let us help you feel instead.”

The bed dips behind you, and a new warm breath ghosts over your neck. You flinch at the sudden weight pressing beside you, and when you tilt your head, you finally see his face—Tommy, lit in the glow of the bedside lamp.

He looks at you like you’re a gift. Something precious and shiny, wrapped up just for him.

“She’s pretty,” he mutters, brushing his thumb over the sweat beading on your brow with a touch gentler than it should be. “Damn, Joel. You always know how to pick ’em.”

“Wait—” Your voice is hoarse, small and cracked. You start to sit up, but Joel stops it with a heavy hand to your chest, keeping you pinned to the mattress.

He leans in close, presses a kiss to your temple, and whispers against your skin. “Don’t be rude, babygirl. You’re gonna be real nice to my brother, ain’t you?”

Brother.

Brother.

Your stomach lurches and you’re shaking your head before you even realize it. “No,” you whisper. “No, please—”

“Easy now,” Tommy coos. His hand is warm as it strokes over your cheek. “Ain’t no need to fight. We’ll be real good to you, sugar.”

Joel leans back, peeling your panties down your legs with a reverence that would almost be sweet—if you could move. If you could say no. If you weren’t so dizzy that you can’t tell if the ache building in your core is from fear or the sick twist of arousal.

The cool air hitting your core is a shock to your system, you gasp as it nips at the skin of your thighs, slick and gleaming. Your legs twitch, trying in vain to snap shut, but Joel holds you spread open with wide palms.

“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes glued to your bare pussy. His thumb runs along the seam of you, his touch slow and light. “Look at that.”

“Please,” you gasp, even as your hips twitch up off the bed. “I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?” Tommy asks, dragging his lips down your neck. “Didn’t mean to make us hard? Didn’t mean to spread your legs the second Joel smiled at you all sweet? Don’t play innocent now, babydoll. You knew exactly what you were doin’, didn't you?”

“She knew good and well.” Joel says, sliding off the mattress, big hands keeping you pinned as he settles on his knees near the edge of the bed. He shoulders his way between your thighs, dipping his head down to blow cool air over the expanse of your pussy.

“So damn pretty down here,” he mutters, the edge of a smirk curling at his lips. “Bet you taste as good as you look.”

Then his mouth is on you.

He dives in with a hunger that knocks the breath from your lungs. His tongue is practiced and hot as it drags through your folds, the groan ripped from his chest as you flood his tongue is more animal than man.

The sound vibrates through you, and your spine arches off the mattress, another tear sliding hot and fast down your temple.

Tommy brushes it off your cheek, but instead of wiping it away, he licks it from his fingertip. His eyes flick down to yours, and his smile is soft. Mocking. “Aw,” he coos. “She’s cryin’ already, Joel. Thought we’d have to work harder than that.”

“She’s fuckin’ sweet,” Joel groans, nosing at you like a man starved. His tongue flicks over your clit, teasing, coaxing—then he seals his mouth around it and sucks. Hard.

Your hands fist the sheets beneath you so tight you can hear the distinct sounds of seams ripping under your nails. It’s an onslaught of pleasure, an attack. There’s nothing kind about the dull scrape of his teeth against your sensitive clit, but it has your thighs clenching around his head all the same.

Joel’s fingers slide into you without warning—two of them, thick and rough and curling just right as he keeps his mouth working on your clit. The stretch punches a sound from your chest, a high, keening noise that has both brothers groaning in tandem.

“Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” Joel grits out, dragging his fingers in and out lazily. “You’re gonna milk my cock just like this, huh?”

You couldn’t answer him if you tried, pure ecstasy racking your brain in all the wrong ways—burning through your veins like kerosine—too garbled and confusing for you to even think of speaking. You can only whimper, a pathetically desperate noise that’s drowned out by Joel fucking his fingers into you impossible faster.

The sound of it is loud, the wet slap of his palm and the dirty, slick sounds of your pussy sucking him in bouncing off the walls to echo back at you mockingly. 

Your hips shift helplessly, held down by Joel’s strong forearm as he eats you out like it’s his last meal. You can feel your own slick mixing with his spit start dripping down between your legs, soaking the sheets, and he groans like he loves it, nose bumping your clit as he moans into your cunt.

Tommy’s fingers start to trace the outline of your lips, dragging down to your chin before forcing them into your mouth. You choke, gag a little, but he doesn’t flinch—just presses them deeper, twisting his wrist slowly as he watches your throat bob.

“Pretty mouth,” he says, rubbing the pad of his thumb over your tastebuds. “Bet you give real sweet head, huh?”

You cry out around his fingers, your pussy fluttering around Joel’s tongue. Before you can think, you sink your teeth into Tommy’s thumb, hard. Hard enough that you feel the skin break under it, the unmistakable taste of iron spreading across your tongue. Maybe it’s a last ditch attempt to make him stop, maybe it’s a sick way of making him stay.

“Fuck.” Tommy groans like he’s been shot, chin dropping to his chest. His eyes go dark, something wicked swimming in the brown of his irises. His mouth slips open, soft pants falling from between his slick lips.

Joel chuckles darkly from between your legs, he raises head to catch your bleary gaze. The whole bottom half of his face is drenched, beard wet with your slick. “Biting won’t do you any good, honey. Tommy likes that shit.”

Tommy hums in agreement, low and vicious, pulling his thumb from your mouth with a soft pop. “Look what you did, darlin’,” he murmurs, holding it up for you to see, blood dripping down his skin in a thin stream of red. He drags it across your lips to smear it along them like warpaint. “So mean. That’s alright, sweet thing. Joel and I like 'em a little mean, it’s more fun to put you in your place that way.

He leans down and kisses you, soft at first, then deep—tongue sweeping over the inside of your mouth, sucking his own blood off your tongue. His fingers grip your chin hard enough to bruise as he keeps you still, mouth moving hungrily against yours until you whimper, struggling to breathe around the heat of it.

Joel still hasn’t stopped.

His fingers keep dragging against that spot deep inside you, stretching and curling until you’re clenching around him. His mouth sucks another bruise onto your thigh before pulling away with a low moan.

“She’s close,” he growls, sitting back on his haunches. “C’mon, Tommy. Let her mouth do some of the work.”

Tommy pulls back without another word, and reaches for his belt. Silver clinks softly as he undoes the flashy buckle with nimble fingers, never taking his eyes off you. He pops the button of his jeans, pulls his zipper down slowly, making sure you see every inch of it slipping open.

His cock springs free, hard and flushed an angry red at the tip. He takes it in his hand, pumping himself in the tight grip of fist—once, twice—before he’s tracing the drooling head along your lips. “Open up for me, beautiful.”

Joel chooses that moment to curl his fingers again, pressing right against the swollen spot inside of you, and your body reacts on instinct.

Your mouth falls open with a gasp, and Tommy takes the invitation, pushing inside until your lips are stretched tight around the thick head. He doesn’t ease in—he sets a rhythm fast, shallow thrusts that drag over your tongue, just enough to make you choke a little. 

Joel chuckles at the sound, giving your ass a quick swat before he’s standing. His jeans are already undone, his own cock just as hard and straining against his stomach. It’s flushed and leaking, veins bulging, too big for someone as stretched as thin and soft as you feel right now.

He takes your ankles in one hand, the other wrapped tight around the base as he drags the sticky head through your spit soaked pussy to rub it over your clit torturously slow.

You can’t even protest as he lines himself up to your clenching hole, Tommy filling your mouth so much you can only let out a broken whine around him, your legs straining in Joel’s firm grip.

Joel hushes you gently, like a lullaby. “It’s too late for all that, baby. You’re already open for me.”

And then he pushes in.

The stretch is sharp and immediate, your back arching as your walls struggle to take him. There’s no patience, no easing in—he feeds you inch after inch, his hips not stopping until they’re pressed flush to yours, his cock buried deep.

You sob, overwhelmed by the burn, the pressure, the way your body is forced to accept every bit of him.

“Christ,” Joel groans. “She’s grippin’ me like a fuckin’ vice. Could stay buried in this pussy forever.”

You can feel every throb, every twitch. The way he shifts slightly just to feel you react—your body spasming around him. The rhythm he sets is savage from the start. Rough, unrelenting thrusts that slap your skin raw where his hips meet yours. 

“Shhh,” Joel soothes as you mewl, bending low to press a kiss to your cheek. “You're takin’ it. You’re takin’ me so good, baby. Feels like you were made for this cock.”

The bite of sharp teeth nip their way down to your sternum, his mouth moving along the skin of your chest, sucking until deep bruises bloom. His hands wrap around your thighs, lifting your hips off the bed as he fucks into you harder, groaning with every wet slap of skin against skin.

Tommy isn’t gentle either. He fucks your mouth with slow precision, moaning every time your throat flutters around him. One hand strokes your cheek, the other twisted in your hair, tugging hard enough to make your scalp burn.

Your eyes roll back, spit running down your chin, tears streaking your cheeks—and they moan at the sight.

Every thrust is a jolt, hips slamming into the backs of your thighs as Joel fucks you deeper, each stroke driving the breath from your lungs, his heavy balls slapping over your sensitive clit. The pace is brutal, all the more suffocating with Tommy fucking your mouth in tandem, the obscene sounds of spit and slick filling the room.

“Jesus,” Tommy laughs, breathless and mean. “She’s perfect. Fuckin’ perfect.”

Joel fucks you harder, one hand slipping around your throat to pin you in place. “Gonna pump you so full, babygirl,” he pants. “You’ll be drippin’ for days.”

You feel it building, that terrible, traitorous heat pooling deep in your belly, curling tight like a fist.

You're caught between them, nothing but a warm, wet hole for them to use—your body split open, trembling and full.

“You’re ours now, honey,” Tommy pants. “Say it.”

You can’t. You choke, mouth stuffed full, brain scrambled.

Tommy pulls out, stroking himself fast. “C’mon, sugar,” he murmurs. “Tell us. Tell us you’re ours.”

Joel hammers into you, hand on your belly to press down and feel the outline of his cock. “Say it.”

You sob, the words tumbling out broken and wrecked. “Yours. I’m—fuck—I’m yours.”

Joel groans loud, hips slamming forward one last time as he spills inside you, hot and thick. You feel it fill you, warm and endless, leaking out around his cock.

Tommy’s not far behind, fisting his cock roughly until hot spurts of come stripe across your cheeks, your lips, your tongue. He lets out a ragged groan, hand still tight in your hair.

It’s too much, the dual sensations finally snapping the fragile rubber band of sanity that held you together. You shatter—mind blanking out under the weight of it all, pleasure and pain entwined so tightly there’s no telling one from the other.

Both men stay still for a long while after they’re done, suspended in the aftermath.

Tommy’s hunched over you, chest heaving as he rubs his come into your skin like a filthy sacrament. His voice is wrecked, as soft as you’ve heard it all night. “Pretty girl.”

Joel doesn’t move off your spent body, his softening cock twitching in your abused pussy as he presses his face into your sweaty throat, breathing hard.

Then he leans back, watches his cum slowly drip from your abused cunt. “You took us so good, babygirl.”

Tommy brushes your cheek with the back of his knuckles, gaze soft again. “Think she’s got one more in her?”

Joel chuckles darkly. “Only one way to find out.”

MINI NAT'S NOTE: it's literally seven in the morning. i'm posting this and then i'm passing the fuck out. thank you to chronic insomnia but mainly to my geek bar and addison rae's new song drop for giving me the energy to power through this. also ofc thank you to baby @ebodebo (cause she was mad i wasn’t going to mention her and threatened to hit me...someone save me...call 911…) for listening to me complain about this and not telling me to shut up even though i probably deserved it. most of all, thank YOU so much for reading! love you, mwah <3

[bitters-n-sweets]

take a break — michael "robby" robinavitch x fem!reader Robby is finally on vacation in Bali. He can't quite turn off the part of him that stays alert, but then he meets someone who somehow silences all the noise.

warnings: angst. smut 18+,  minors go away. this feels very romantic to me. i loved writing this. i never intended to include smut in this actually, i find it challenging, but it felt like a great addition to the story. pls be nice :") [p in v sex, no protection—don't do this kids, oral!fem receiving, fingering, swearing] not proofread. 4.4K words -- i think this is also the longest fic I've written so far masterlist

It just finished raining, and the air feels sticky with heat and flowers. Robby's on his third day of vacation in Bali, and he's yet to do anything on this island they call paradise. No tours, no yoga by the beach, not even a swim.

It's beautiful here—almost painfully—but he keeps checking his phone like someone might page him. Old habits. No one’s paging him. Time zones are a buffer, and besides, he’s on the other side of the world. What could he possibly do?

He’s halfway through drinking from his coconut, perched on a wooden lounge chair by the beach, when he hears a voice beside him, amused and warm.

"You look like you’re trying to solve a math problem with your drink."

He looks up. You’re barefoot, sun-kissed, wearing loose cotton pants and a tank top, your hair a little wild from the humidity.

Robby blinks. "Is it that obvious?"

You motion to the seemingly permanent frown on his face.

Robby's seen you around the resort before. Always by yourself, with two books in one hand and a drink in the other. He thought about saying something multiple times, but always chickened out. Something about you felt... unapproachable. Not in an intimidating way, more in a you’re living fully and I’m not sure how to do that so I don't want to possibly ruin it for you way.

Now you both sit in silence, while Robby continues to check his phone again and sighs. That's when you hand him your book. "Here."

He blinks down at the cover. A Man Called Ove.

"One of my favorites. You should read it." You say, "Better than constantly checking your phone and regretting it a second later."

Robby snorts. You have a point.

"You lend books to strangers a lot?"

"If they look like they've been through some rough shit, yes."

That startles a laugh out of him—genuine, low, a little rusty. "I’m Michael. Robinavitch. You can call me Robby."

You offer your name in return, then nod toward the book. "Give it a chance. Let me know what you think."

"What makes you think I'll give your book back?"

You smile, stepping toward the path back to the resort. "I've seen you around the resort. And if you don't, I'll hunt you down."

You're feeling particularly exhausted today. One, because you just went out surfing for the entire day yesterday, but also because today, you were supposed to be walking down the aisle with the most beautiful dress, about to marry the love of your life. Instead, you're in a hotel room halfway across the world, alone, and feeling like shit.

Well, you suppose the day wasn't half bad. You finally managed to talk to the broody, quietly handsome guy who looks like he’s seen too much and somehow still comes off calm and steady. A smile tugs at your lips. He’s more charming than you expected.

Bali was not a place you thought you'd visit alone. You always imagined you'd be here with your ex-fiancé, drinking and watching the sunset. So you decide it's time to take care of yourself, wear that sundress you've been saving for a special occasion, and head to the resort's bar.

You sit down at your table, putting your book down and picking up the menu, when someone clears his throat, standing next to you.

Robby.

"This seat taken?"

You try to hide your smile. "Be my guest."

He smiles and sits across from you, putting his your book down on the table. He looks good—too good. He’s traded his usual loose t-shirt for a navy polo that clings in the right places, and linen pants that make his long legs look impossibly relaxed.

"You clean up nice." You say.

"You look beautiful." Robby counters, "Can I ask what's the occasion?"

You chuckle nervously, not ready to share the sad part of your life yet. Thankfully, you're saved by the waiter coming to take your order.

"Do you drink Rosé?" Robby asks after ordering your meals. And you nod, surprised. "Great, let's open a bottle of dry Rosé." He says to the waiter.

You raise your brows once the waiter leaves. "Didn't take you for a wine guy—let alone a Rosé? You're full of surprises, Michael."

"You sound like my mother when you call me like that." He groans.

"'Michael'?"

"Yes, and she also mocks my drink choices."

You laugh. "So what's the story?"

"A friend gifted me a dry Rosé one time as a joke. I didn’t want to waste it, so I drank it. Turns out, I liked it more than I wanted to admit. But keep that between us."

You hum, "Ah, yes, can't have you ruin your naturally broody aura."

"Me? Broody?" He snorts like it's ridiculous. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You absolutely are."

With the food almost immediately devoured, you're left with wine and each other's company. The ocean hums in the distance, with the breeze prickling your skin. Robby’s gone quiet, admiring the view, the half-full glass of rosé resting loosely in his fingers.

"So, how do you like the book so far?"

He exhales, tipping his head back. "I wasn’t ready to love it. But it... got to me."

You grin. "Ove grows on you, doesn’t he?"

"Yeah," Robby murmurs. "Grumpy bastard made me feel things I wasn’t in the mood to feel."

You laugh. "That's the point. He's angry at life, but still shows up for people. Even when he doesn’t want to."

Robby nods, quiet for a second. "I think I know what that feels like."

You glance at him, surprised by the honesty. His jaw is tense, but his eyes are soft. You wonder if you should ask—but something tells you this moment is already fragile, and curiosity might crack it too soon.

Instead, you wait.

"I'm an ER doc." Robby swirls the wine in his glass absentmindedly. "Lots of chaos. Long hours. Lots of traumas, deaths… I used to think I was built for this line of work. The pressure, the adrenaline... the fixing things. And sometimes I still do. But lately…"

You don’t speak. You let him go on, because he needs to.

He takes a deep breath. "Lately I’ve been wondering if it's all catching up with me. Like—I walk around carrying everyone else's worst days, and I don’t even notice the weight until I sit still." He continues. "I’ve seen kids come in with gunshots. Mothers who collapse from exhaustion. People screaming for someone to save them, and you just have to keep moving like it doesn’t get to you. Like you’re above it. But you’re not. Not really."

Robby then takes a sharp breath. "Sorry. I'm not usually this..."

You offer him a small smile. "Broody?"

That earns a faint smile, but it doesn’t erase the weariness from his expression.

You figured it's only fair you share your story, too.

You put your wine glass down, your finger tracing the rim. "I was supposed to get married today."

That catches him off guard. His eyes widen, gently. "Oh. Today? As in—today today?"

"Yeah," You laugh under your breath, "Booked the venue and everything. Until 6 months ago, I found out he was cheating on me with one of my bridesmaids. Classic."

"Prick," Robby mutters.

"Right? So I pulled the plug on the wedding, and I've been traveling the world ever since. Running away, I guess. I was so caught up in the relationship that I think I lost part of myself." You sigh. "So now, I'm re-finding myself. Yay."

Robby chuckles. "And how's it going so far?"

You smile, "Let's just say I'm glad I'm not spending today alone."

He mirrors your smile, lifting his glass to cheer. "Me too."

"Walk with me?" you ask, gesturing toward the beach after you've finished your wine.

Robby doesn’t hesitate. "Lead the way."

You both kick off your shoes by the beach entrance and walk slowly along the shore, the water brushing your feet gently. You can feel the wine in your system now. The salty air hits your skin and lets your hair flow freely. Robby has never seen anyone more beautiful. He's glad it's dark out now, or you would've seen him blush.

You glance at him, and he’s already looking at you. Half-lidded, faintly flushed from the wine and maybe something more.

"I don’t usually let myself relax like this." He murmurs.

"And yet here you are, walking barefoot on a beach with a stranger, wine-drunk and poetic." You laugh lightly.

"Stranger?" He repeats, stepping in front of you gently, making you stop.

"No?"

"Feels like I've known you longer." He smiles lazily.

Your heart kicks up a notch, not sure what to say, so you just smile, turning to look towards the sea. The breeze has picked up, cooler now that the sun has long dipped below the horizon. You cross your arms, trying not to shiver, but the goosebumps along your arms give you away.

Without a word, Robby steps behind you. You feel his warmth before you feel the touch—his hands gently brushing your arms, then slowly wrapping around your waist. His chest is solid and steady against your back, and you let yourself lean into it, just a little.

He’s quiet, but you can hear the soft rhythm of his breathing, feel it where your shoulders meet his. The sea hums in the distance, but all you can think about is how your heart is racing—and how you can feel his breath on your skin.

"You're unlike anyone I've ever met." He says.

You chuckle and glance up at him, suddenly meeting his eyes. "That's the Rosé talking."

"Maybe," he says, almost to himself. "Or maybe I just really want to kiss you."

Your breath catches. That weightless feeling flutters in your chest, and the world seems to narrow to just the space between your mouths. He waits for your permission—doesn’t lean in right away, doesn’t push. Just watches you, his fingers still resting lightly on your waist.

So you give in. You lean up and close the space between you. It's slow, exploring new ground, like you're testing the heat between you. Robby’s lips are soft, warm, and his beard grazes your skin in the most deliciously distracting way. His hand slips around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, and you find your fingers brushing the edge of his jaw.

The kiss lingers on your lips even after it ends, like you don't want it to be over. Robby pulls back just enough to look at you, still hazy, still drunk on the moment. His hand is still snug at your waist, like he’s afraid to let go too quickly.

"I don’t want to overstep," he whispers, "But if I asked you to come back with me… would that be okay?"

You hesitate for a second, because something about this feels different than just a vacation fling, but you can't talk about it yet. You don't want to.

"I was hoping you’d ask," you murmur against his lips.

That earns you a smile and another short make-out session that leaves you breathless.

"Are we leaving or what?" You ask in between kisses.

He chuckles, "So impatient."

He takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, and you walk together barefoot, tipsy, and a little giddy from everything that’s happened tonight. The resort glows softly in the distance, lanterns swaying with the wind.

Once inside his room, you walk in slowly as if it doesn't look exactly like yours. The mood shifts. Robby closes the door behind you, and for a second, neither of you says anything. You just look at each other in the dim light, the tension from earlier about to snap.

Robby takes the first step closer to you, dragging his finger to lift your chin so he can kiss you again. And again. And again. And you sigh into his arms, hands on his broad chest.

"You can stop me any time."

"I won't."

He kisses you again, deeper this time. His hands slip around your waist, then your back, and up to where the straps of your dress rest. You can feel your heart flip when he hooks it on his finger, slowly peeling it off your shoulder, as if giving you time to push him away, but teasing at the same time.

You let the strap fall down your arm, and the other one soon follows. Robby’s gaze follows the motion like he’s watching something sacred, like he's not sure if he's allowed to want this but can't help himself anyway.

His fingers trail over your now-bare shoulder, and you shiver, goosebumps forming on your skin.

You take his hand and slowly make your way towards the bed, sitting down and placing your hands on his waist. You tug at his shirt, hinting you want it off, and he obliges, the shirt gone in one swift motion.

"You’re beautiful," He groans as he leans down to lie on top of you. "God."

You memorize the feel of him: warm skin, a strong chest under your palms, the steady rhythm of his breath stuttering slightly when your hands roam lower to reach his belt. He lets you undo it. Lets you unbutton his pants and pull them down as he peppers kisses throughout your body.

You let out a soft moan when his hand trails up your naked torso, hesitantly, ever so gently caressing your breast, teasing your nipple with his finger, while his mouth makes its way down to latch onto the other.

"Fuck, Robby." Your hand goes up to tug on his hair, earning you a lustful groan, while your other hand grabs onto his arm as an anchor.

Your head is spinning, and something is itching. You buck your hips up to meet his, and now his hand is pinning your waist down.

"You really need to work on your patience." He teases and stops kissing you.

"Can you really blame me?" You daringly take one of his hands, resting it on the slick heat between your thighs.

"Fuck." Robby closes his eyes, pressing his thumb to where he can feel your clitoris is, the sensitive bud poking out and pushing against your panties.

You throw your head back, hips bucking against his hand.

Robby slowly slips the little piece of clothing off, and you watch as his fingers smooth over your slit. He keeps his eyes on you as he lowers himself. You swallow as you anticipate what he's about to do.

"So fucking wet." He murmurs, leaving kitten licks on your clit.

You can only moan while he has his way with you. His hands are holding your thighs open for him, and you try your best to keep eye contact, but it's only making you falter faster. His eyes are dark, lustful, hungry, and you feel like you could cum just from watching him.

He gently sucks on your swollen bud, and you lose your mind when he inserts one finger. Then two. Your slick makes it easy for his fingers to move around and find your sensitive spot, he found it almost immediately, he can tell by the way your eyes roll back and how you clench around him every time.

"Robby—" You sigh with pleasure—a warning, bucking your hips again, and this time he lets you, feeling you're close to the edge. His fingers move expertly in and out of you, curling just at the right spot. Your breaths become erratic, following the pace of Robby's fingers. "Come, sweetheart." He says, almost as a command, and your body arches moments after, breath catching in your throat as waves of pleasure crash through you.

Robby doesn't immediately stop. He pumps his fingers a few more times until you're trembling away, and with a proud smirk, he pulls his fingers out, licks them to taste you—making sure you're watching—before hovering on top of you to kiss you.

You can taste yourself in his mouth, and you whimper, feeling him pressing against your cunt. You're still sensitive, but it feels like you're desperately hungry for more. More of Robby.

Robby tries to pace himself, he doesn't want to rush. He wants to cherish this, drag this out, because he doesn't want this to end. He wants to keep feeling your plush lips against his, your soft touches, your hands in his hair, your body pressed firmly against his.

"Robby," you whisper, your voice barely more than air, "I want you. Please."

And he loses all of his resolve.

Robby bites his lip as he sees your disheveled state. Lips swollen, hair a mess, hooded and hungry eyes, how can he say no to you?

He takes his boxers off, freeing his cock and letting it spring back up to his stomach. You gasp at the sight. He's gonna kill you. First with his gentleness, second with his cock, because you don't think you can handle that.

"Fuck off." You unintentionally comment.

Robby lets out a laugh. "Relax."

"Are you kidding?"

He just shakes his head and hovers over you again, but this time you push him over so he's sitting and you're on top, your sopping wet cunt sitting on his aching cock.

"Sweetheart, you're killing me." He closes his eyes and groans as you drag your hips along his length.

You decide neither of you would last any more teasing, so you take him in your hands, covered in your wetness and his precum, and push him against your folds. Your walls squeeze him as he bottoms out inside you, and you have to hold still for a while.

Robby's hands grip your waist and you're sure it'll leave marks in the morning, but you don't really care. You lift your hips slowly, leaving just the tip before slamming yourself back down, eliciting a moan from both of you.

You're set on a pace, slow, steady, allowing you to have control, but it's not enough. You groan and bury your face in Robby's neck. "Robby…"

"Hm?" He teases, like he knows what you're about to ask for.

"Please," You whisper. "I need…"

He pulls you from hiding your face, a confident smirk on his. But he decides to be merciful this time. Chuckling, he moves so you're now flat on your back again, legs tucked up and pressed onto your sides.

"Tell me if you want to stop, okay?"

You manage to let out a giggle. "Robby, don't worry—" your words are immediately cut off when he reinserts himself, the position makes it feel completely different from before. "—Holy fuck."

Robby starts slow, letting you fully adjust before feeling you clench around him, and he picks up the speed. You feel like the air is knocked out of your lungs, only able to take short breaths as Robby brutally drives into you, making you feel all of him.

You can't even moan anymore, your mouth just hangs open as you put your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss you can't properly do. Strings of fuck—Robby—so deep—fuck—you feel so good are the only things you can muster as you feel your high approaching again.

You couldn't even warn him when your orgasm hits you. Your nails just dig into his shoulder as your eyes roll back, back arching as far as it could go, and walls spasming around him. He grunts, nibbling on your neck as his hips stutter, not expecting you to get so tight.

"Fuck." He moans as he spills inside you, staying still for a minute to catch his breath and make sure you're okay.

You're still panting and twitching under him, eyes still closed, but your hands draw small circles on the back of his head.

"'M gonna pull out now." He warns and you hum, moaning again when he does.

He stands up to get a towel to clean you up, "Don't go anywhere." He jokes.

You chuckle. "Don't think I can."

The room is quiet now, only the sound of the AC and the steady rhythm of your breaths can be heard. You're both tangled in the sheets, your leg draped over his, skin still warm from everything that just passed between you. Robby lies on his side, one arm wrapped around your waist, fingertips gently grazing your back in slow, absent-minded strokes. You’re tucked into his chest, your head resting in the curve of his shoulder, your fingers drawing lazy circles on his chest.

Eventually, he presses a kiss to your hair, his lips lingering there.

"You're kind of amazing," He mutters.

"Kind of?" You raise a brow.

He huffs a quiet laugh, "I’m trying not to let it go to your head."

You shift, propping your chin on his chest so you can look at him. His hair is tousled, his eyes soft, still heavy-lidded. "Too late."

He smiles and presses another kiss to your lips.

"Do you always kiss like that on vacation?" You tease.

He chuckles, "Only when I meet someone who gives me their favorite book."

"Pretty exclusive club."

"You're the only member."

You nuzzle closer into him, smiling into his chest. "I'm not gonna lie," You start, "This all feels a little surreal. I never thought I'd meet someone like you. You make all of this feel… right."

"I feel the same way." He admits, "I want to pause everything and just stay in our little bubble."

The silence stretches comfortably for a moment. And then, you get a gut-wrenching realization. "Oh. Right. You said you're only here for a week."

He nods, voice tighter, his hand still tracing along your side. "Yeah."

"So we’ve got, what… four more?"

"Mm-hm." He pulls you close to him, perhaps it's a way so you can't see his sullen expression. "Four more days in the bubble."

And it's hardly enough time.

The next few days blur in sunlight and ocean breeze, you take Robby on winding motorbike rides, wild ATV tours through the jungle, surfing lessons where you both wipe out laughing, and quiet moments snorkeling with whale sharks. You try to make as many memories as you can, all the while masking the dread of his departure. And at night, it’s always the same—his touch like a promise, your body moving with his in the dark, like you're both pretending the end isn't coming.

You both made the silent decision not to say where you’re from. Maybe if you find out he lives just hours away, it’ll make this too real. Too painful. Better to keep things suspended in this bubble, this almost-fairytale. Better to let it end on a hopeful note, instead of a practical-hurtful one.

You’ve told yourself this is just a fling. That some people come into your life for a reason, and maybe Robby was never meant to stay. Maybe he’s just a beautiful lesson in loving deeply and letting go.

You try not to cry in front of him. You want to make the goodbye easier than it feels, to shield him and yourself from the ache that's already blooming in your chest. You try to seem light, even when it’s breaking you.

It’s not easy for Robby, either. If he could, he’d offer you his world—just to wake up beside you every morning and fall asleep with you tucked against his chest. But it wouldn’t be fair. He could never ask you to upend your life for him, no matter how much he wants to.

And maybe that’s the hardest part, he wants to do this right. He wants to believe this is more than just a vacation high. But what if his reality—grueling shifts, emotional exhaustion, his work-life imbalance—ends up driving you away? There’s so much he wants to say, but maybe silence is the merciful choice.

It's the night before he leaves, and you can't say goodbye. But it’s there, hanging unspoken in the humid air between kisses, in the way you cling to each other just a little tighter. You talk quietly about nothing at all, and everything at once—movies you haven’t seen, food you miss, a joke about whale sharks that makes you both laugh a little too hard at 1AM.

At one point, while tracing lazy circles on his chest, he asks, "Should I go before you wake up?"

You don’t answer right away, but then nod. Robby can see your lips quivering slightly.

He pulls you closer to him, but neither of you falls asleep quickly. You make love again, slower this time, as if trying to memorize each other’s skin. As if trying to stretch the hours. You fall asleep tangled together, heartbeats in sync.

By the time the soft blue of dawn creeps up, Robby’s already awake. He moves quietly, getting dressed in the soft light, careful not to wake you. Before he leaves, he pauses by your bedside. You’re still curled under the covers, looking peaceful and beautiful.

He looks at you like he’s trying to remember everything.

Then he pulls something from his bag—a folded piece of paper—and tucks it gently into the book you gave him. His fingers linger on the cover for a beat too long.

He leaves without a sound.

You wake hours later to an empty room, your chest already aching before your mind catches up. You sit up slowly, the sheets cold beside you. You scan everything in your room, maybe Robby had left something behind that you could keep as a memento.

Then you see the book. You open it to find the note inside:

"You changed something in me. Thank you for letting me be yours, even just for a moment."

And that’s when you finally let yourself cry.

------

part two for a reunion (edited here) coming up! would you like to be tagged? pls leave a comment if you do ❤️

[sqgeism]

love mail — thought this was dumb. lmao i love gentle men ❤️‍🩹 random prompt someone hold me down (*´ノД｀) OKAY IM SLEEPING FR NOW i js has a draft and realized it was litwrally finished and js needed to post um awkward (o´･ω･`o)ﾉ

when it comes to alchemy, it doesn't take a genius (even if he is) to know a love potion is in effect. it's either that, or the heavily established fact that anaxagoras knows you too well. when he makes it home to find you blabbering about missing a man that isn't him, he knows something is wrong immediately.

to get the obvious out of the way, you reek of that unfortunately potent stench that often comes with love potions. it isn't noticeable by the average person, however anaxa has worked with enough of those awful excuses for magic, that it's hard to miss. in addition, the name you're muttering is of a co worker he knows has been eyeing you. while making a mental note to have enough bullets in his gun tomorrow, anaxa guides you onto the couch and takes your hand.

he wants to avoid startling you, since you were basically tricked into thinking that you were married to some lame scum that didn't deserve you. so he was taking a gentle approach.

you continue talking about how your 'husband' will grow worried if you don't get home soon, which admittedly gets a little bit under his skin. he brings your hand up to his cheek, leaning into your palm as he watches the pink in your eyes flicker. love potions are strong, but true love will always be much, much stronger. "you're already here with your husband, dove." he mumbles, kissing along your palm as he feels you shudder. "i.. i'm sorrry i.. i don't mean to be unfaithful but.."

interrupted yet again by a gentle hush. "good to know i've always been your greatest temptation. but please, know where your heart has laid loyal."

it doesn't quite work.. but he can tell you're conflicted. not completely subservient to the potion.. which is good. anaxa lets go of you quietly, expecting you to at least try to leave again. but you only grow tired, falling asleep and leaning into his shoulder.

quietly smug (but more or less feels like he's beholden to the aeons for your loyalty) about the fact you would still be loyal even under a potion. will kill his co worker once you're recovered.

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[pikacrafter101]

Before I get into this, I want to establish that (1) I have neither seen this episode nor it's behind the scenes and probably wouldn't have on my own because I don't usually enjoy longform crowd-work comedy, (2) I am a trans woman, but I don't speak for all trans women and am a *relatively* newly realized trans woman (known and processed for a little over 2 years), and (3) I majored in Theater in college, doing things including acting, improv. and directing. With that said...

I believe an amount of this is blown out of proportion. Purposeful degendering absolutely sucks and I do not approve of that in any way shape or from especially in this context and hope an apology is issued. At the same time, I think immediately diving off the deep end saying that "all trans women must be treated like trash at Dropout" is a bit much especially when they've been so good about so much other stuff. Miscommunications happen a lot in the world of performance and there's a non-zero chance that the degendering happened because they thought she used they/she or something of the like. I mean, Meghan Cherry has as far as I've seen been very happy about the episode.

Which brings me to people laughing at her kink. Ya'll, THIS WAS A LONG-FORM CROWD-WORK COMEDY NIGHT PERFORMANCE OF COURSE PEOPLE LAUGHED. Everyone was in a space intended for jokes and laughter, so when someone shares information that you might not have expected or nor have honestly had the chance to encounter in person, whether out of shock or humor, YOU LAUGH. If the space wasn't safe for her or she wasn't fully prepared for what she signed up for, then I could absolutely see the problem, but I should also iterate that MEGHAN CHERRY HAPPENS TO BE A FUCKING EXPERIENCED COMEDIAN WHO SIGNED UP TO BE THERE AND AFTER THE INITIAL SHOCK EVERYONE WAS GENERALLY RESPECTFUL WHILE STILL DOING COMEDY.

Like, isn't that what we want? Do we need to demonize the company who might have accidentally dropped the ball when we are surrounded by companies who would happily sacrifice us if it saved them a penny?

And as for the Dropout community do I even need to explain to the people who live on Tumblr that judging anything based on it's following can be absolutely disastrous? Especially for what appears to be an INSTAGRAM REEL? Like. Come on. Level with me here am I missing something because this seems to be a "society has been trying to kill us for so long that it feels like any ally who isn't perfect is an enemy" thing and we need to step away from our torture devices for a minute and take a bath or go on a hike.

executive producer on dropout (game changer behind the scenes) calling a trans woman a 'person' and using they/them only to then talk abt the cis woman sitting next to her and refer to her (cis) as a woman. cant make this shit up.

you’re fucking kidding me. what video is this? does anybody have a rip?

[bamsara]

Very personal vent, will nuke it after a nap I think

2024 was arguably one of the worst years of my life outside of having my heart and brain issues from 2020. I left an abusive situation, still recovering from it, left a *second* toxic friendship that resulted in my physical location being compromised, and right as I think 2025 will be better, one of them comes uninvited into my house *again*, and my step father gets diagnosed with heart failure, with the same exact issues that killed my birth dad. We had to buy a wearable difibulator since it can go out any moment

All that and we are in a hell recession

I am constantly afraid, both in online and in real life spaces. I dont think I have social anxiety in a normal sense, I think im really good at talking to people, but I'm never fast at it and I'm never natural at it.

I constantly worry about taking up too much space and that people I've never met online fucking hate me because I exist in the same sphere as them, that there are preconceived ideas of who or what I am as a person because I'm not seen as a person in the online space but just as a creator, and online: creators are not considered people. I wish some of my stuff never got popular, even SL, not that I don't like talking about what I'm passionate about, but I'm constantly afraid of crossing that line of 'random artist' into being seen as 'self absorbed big shot' because I posted too many au dumps or got too rambley. And if I talk about this, I fear any reassurance I get will because of those prior factors

I've thought about deleting this account before a long while ago, but then I'd lose Everything I've ever done for over 10 years. Not just artwork and community but real life milestones and memories and that's not worth losing over some stressful situations

I genuinely do not understand why we cannot be nice to each other either. I know it's a very vague and general statement and I feel like hard to explain what I mean by that, but I cannot imagine passive aggression, comparison or general rudeness to be the 'default' way people talk! I am so tired of people being mean for fun or to feel like they fit in on a conversation! And I'm not even recieving the mean, I just witness it and its upsetting! Real life and Online! But don't listen to me on that because I want people who've probably don't like me to like me and seek validation from people I have differences with so I am not a good example of judgement.

And my health I'm not even gonna touch that one. But at least I'm working on dental stuff, which is nice. I got health insurance again, right as they go to cut medicaid.

But in my mind I cannot stop thinking about if I can just get better at what I'm doing. If I can get better at artwork that I hate my style of, it's never polished and there's people younger than me who's work is so much better. If I can just write faster or draw better and remember to post things then I don't have to worry about anything else. But I've been drawing for so so long, and my art style that I've put so much time into I feel is the equivalent of a learn-how-to-draw-anime workbook you get in a middle school library. And yes I've been told it's good but all art is good. All art styles are good styles. I just don't like it when I'm the one who draws it.

In the last 12 months I've been IRL stalked, family medical, helping support them with what I do make and also myself and literally every coping hobby I have and have had for over a decade just feels more and more like I'm never improving fast enough or that I just Care Too Much at my big age and I should be doing something more substantial with my life, but if I don't craft something or draw or write even if I despise it in the end then it's so much worse

[jordiemeow]

humbly requesting edging bob reynolds 🙏🙏

short but yeahhhh edging bob. mmmmm

warnings: 18+ smut, handjob, vibrator usage, edging, restraints mentioned, sub!bob

There's just something about the lack of control that really gets to him. It's impossible to think about the things that have plagued him for so long—his father, the healed needle scars on his arms, the Void that haunts his thoughts every time he's alone for too long. Every thought is consumed by you and what you're doing to him.

He's not sure how long it's been. Five minutes? Ten? Thirty? An hour? He has no concept of time. All he knows is the obscene wet sound of your hand pumping up and down his cock, slick with lube and the absurd amount of pre-cum spilling out of his tip each time he grows close to his peak.

And every time, you're there to deny it.

It's not cruel. Sure, you get some sort of sadistic pleasure out of it, but you're doing it for him. Prolonging the pleasure to erase the suffering he normally feels.

"F-fuck, please. S'too much. I can't." His voice is raised a few octaves than usual, breathy little whines filling his room in the compound. Hips canting up into your hand in an attempt to move, because there's no other way to go but up.

You hum in faux-pity. "Too much for you?"

All he can do is nod jerkily, hands tugging uselessly at where they're bound to the metal headboard. That's the part you enjoy most. If he really wanted to, he could break out of them with ease. Unleash that power within. But he'd much rather succumb to the overstimulation of your firm hand than that.

Very gratifying.

Your hand withdraws, and he's not sure whether to sigh in relief or disappointment. Except the sound that he releases ends up being much more like a yelp when the hum of the vibrator you've been tormenting him with fills his ears, and that quivering toy is pressed right against his leaking tip again.

"You can take it," you promise, reaching up to stroke his cheek with your clean hand.

"I can take it," he repeats dumbly. Always so eager to please.

And he does. He lets you bring him to the edge again and again, whether it's with the vibrator dragging up and down his pulsing length while you fondle his balls, or with your hand squelching around him in fast strokes. Head tipped back, lips bitten red as his hips stutter upwards into a slick hand fruitlessly in an attempt to finally get that release.

It's hard to keep him so on-edge for so long. To keep uttering the words "not yet, not yet" every time you feel him convulsing underneath you, abs tensing painfully. But you've always been more patient than him; now is the perfect time to prove it.

And God, he looks gorgeous. Brown curls sticking to his sweaty forehead, muscle in his cheek twitching and lips parted around another desperate whine of your name.

"P-please, just—" He gasps out, back arching up off the sweat-slick sheets beneath him. "I've been so good. Lemme cum, please, I've waited for so long—"

You've made him wait for so long that you almost pity him, enough to slow down the pace of your hand a little and consider his plea. "That's it. Ask nicely for me, baby."

"Nggh—! Okay, yeah. Yeah, please, please. I’m begging you, just— let me— I'm almost there—!"

And finally, finally...

"Okay, baby. Come on. Let go and cum for me."

His hips jolt upwards one more time into your hand before he comes undone, his eyes never once leaving yours. Brows pinched together in pleasure, lips parted to moan in pleasure as his climax hits.

"Oh my god, yeah, fuck, thank you!" He cries out, hips jerking upwards into your tight hand. You milk him through it, watching the thick ropes of cum spill endlessly onto his stomach.

And he's still thanking you five minutes later, delirious from overstimulation as you cradle his head to your chest, stroking his hair through the aftermath of it all.

What a good boy.

—

taglist: @lvve-talks @won-every-lottery @pittsick @voidsuites @artaussi @ashdaidiot — (join here)

[bennetsbonnet]

Much has been made of Mr Darcy's "confession" to Elizabeth that he does not converse easily with strangers. It is repeatedly used to support neurodivergent interpretations of his character. And I suppose that when taken at face value, a character confessing that they do not easily converse with strangers and struggle to catch their tone or appear interested in conversation can absolutely scream AUTISM! (I say as an autistic person myself)

But this line is often taken in isolation. When considered in terms of the passage in which it appears in Chapter 31, it appears far less of a smoking gun than may initially be suspected. After some discussion about Elizabeth and Darcy's prior acquaintance in Hertfordshire, Colonel Fitzwilliam asks Elizabeth for information about Darcy's behaviour there. She readily supplies it:

'Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of,' cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. 'I should like to know how he behaves among strangers.' 'You shall hear then—but prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, was at a ball—and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr Darcy, you cannot deny the fact.' 'I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party.'

What Darcy leaves out here is that it was he himself who chose not to be introduced to anybody. As we learn from the description of his behaviour at the Meryton assembly in Chapter 3:

Mr Darcy danced only once with Mrs Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party.

Anyway, Elizabeth correctly does not buy his excuses. Not only does she respond with a cutting sarcastic remark, but she tries to bring the discussion with an end by speaking to Colonel Fitzwilliam:

'True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball-room. Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders.'

But Darcy does not get the hint and continues conversing with Elizabeth rather than quitting while he's ahead. However, I don't believe him to be missing a social cue here. Rather, this is an exceedingly conceited man who cannot conceive that anyone would not want to speak to such a Superior Being as he and more-so, is determined to defend himself from a perceived slight against his impeccable character.

Then we come to the passage containing the oft-cited line which allegedly contains proof of his neurodivergency:

'Perhaps,' said Darcy, 'I should have judged better, had I sought an introduction; but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers.' 'Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?' said Elizabeth, still addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. 'Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill-qualified to recommend himself to strangers?' 'I can answer your question,' said Fitzwilliam, 'without applying to him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble.'

Once again, Elizabeth does not buy his excuse for even a single second. She's fully aware of all the advantages a man such as he will have received in society (opportunities not open to women, might I add!) and draws attention to that fact. It's a brilliant, cutting line from her and she really set that one up for Colonel Fitzwilliam to deliver the knockout blow.

Not only do we have the testimony of Mr Darcy's cousin, that 'he will not give himself the trouble,' to appear cordial to strangers, but we have evidence from Wickham too. Although after this statement, Wickham quickly goes onto misrepresent Darcy's kindness to the poor, which contradicts Mrs Reynold's later testimony, I do believe Wickham to be telling the truth (for once!) here, when he tells Elizabeth in Chapter 16:

'Mr Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth his while.'

Which, again, demonstrates that Darcy is capable when he wants to be. That is the crucial point. Autistic people fundamentally lack the ability to understand social cues, they cannot turn it on and off as they please because they are snobs.

So, now we come to the infamous line about Darcy's supposed social struggles, and I hope that I've provided enough context to the line to make you see that it should not be taken at face value:

'I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,' said Darcy, 'of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.' 'My fingers,' said Elizabeth, 'do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women’s do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault—because I will not take the trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as any other woman’s of superior execution.'

Again, Elizabeth is not buying his excuses for even a single second and tells him if he feels like that, maybe he should put the effort in. She has seen him in numerous social settings and been thoroughly unimpressed with his behaviour which, when you consider his rudeness to her at the Meryton assembly, she has every right to be.

So, what do I make of the line?

Well, I think it's abundantly clear that Darcy absolutely can speak to people when he wants to. Perhaps, in his mind, he struggles to make that deeper connection and make friends easily. But making friends is not always easy, it's a process you must invest time and effort into. If you do not do that, it stands to reason that you will struggle. Plus, if you hold others to ridiculous standards (as Darcy does) without recognising and fixing the flaws within yourself, you're not going to have deep, lasting friendships.

While this quote may appear to be a moment of vulnerability where he does confess a fault of his, which is astounding given his pride, personally I do not think it was not a soul-searching exercise. It was to make Elizabeth stop grilling him. It was self-serving. Although, I don't think he's entirely lying. Darcy is veeeery careful with his words and though this statement is not considered and perhaps comes out rather abruptly, it doesn't necessarily follow that it isn't true. I can imagine that it is probably something he's felt for a while, yet it is a rather desperate attempt to defend himself from a woman who sees right through him.

I think perhaps Darcy does realise that he isn't as naturally gifted as other men he knows (such as Wickham, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Bingley) when it comes to forming acquaintances. However, he looks outwards and turns that bitterness against the world rather than looking inwards, reflecting upon himself and improving his manners which would be the correct thing to do. Thankfully, he later does this, but it took him twenty eight years...

In addition, Darcy appeared to have been under the illusion that he could coast by on Pemberley's reputation... which has always worked... until he met Elizabeth. For perhaps the first time, he encounters a woman who is not awestruck by him and his reputation and delivers the rebuke that he always needed.

So, while personally I'm inclined to believe there is some truth to his statement, as Mr Darcy is many things but he isn't a liar, I think it is said in desperation. His feeling stems from him knowing what he should do, but he can't be bothered to enact it... rather than any inherent social deficiency stemming from being neurodivergent.

Although, even if he does struggle socially, it's still no excuse for the rudeness he displayed to Elizabeth! My main issue with neurodivergent readings of Darcy is when they are deployed to defend his behaviour, when they attribute his rudeness to any potential neurodivergency and when they excuse his laziness. That is an awful message! Autistic people who struggle with social cues often do not, nor should they, go around insulting others. They should and often do put plenty of effort into being considerate and polite. In fact, I think, if anything, a love of rules makes us more likely to have good manners, rather than the reverse.

Ultimately, I'm not sure this line makes Mr Darcy the sympathetic-poor-sweet-innocent-shy-boy-autistic-representation that people want him to be. In fact it makes him look even worse, if anything. On matters such as these, he is every inch the conceited proud man he was widely believed to be at the Meryton assembly. Luckily, Elizabeth is an incredibly smart woman, who doesn't fall for it and immediately calls him out on his behaviour in a way that he has never experienced before. As she should!

[thebloodofages]

YES! FUCKING THANK YOU! All the characters, but especially Vergil have *gasp!* PERSONALITIES. His character is well written, quite frankly SPOT ON and I'm convinced that people say "tHiS iSnT hIM" are vacuous fuck heads who can't understand nuance.

Finally, a person who actually has a brain (let's face it, many DMC fans do not).

Vergil is a deeply emotional character, and I'm not just saying it because I've been living in his brain for the last month or so 24/7 because of the first person fic I have been writing from his perspective.

I mean, my flavor of autism is the kind where I connect rather deeply with fictional characters because to me they're like any other person in my life, but you have to be daft if you think he goes no deeper than "hurrr durrr POWER."

His fucking mother was attacked by an army of demons that raided their fucking HOME for fuck's sake. He was eight goddamn years old. He set out on the path he did because he couldn't protect his family and carries that pain with him everywhere he goes because he didn't have anyone tell him it is okay to be vulnerable because you were a literal fucking baby.

His rivalry with Dante is based on his childhood. Granted, we only get snippets of that, but the way I see it, Dante was his first bully.

But again they were kids. Both of them literally had to grow up immediately just so they could survive. Dante chooses unconditional love, Vergil chooses vengeance.

Fuck, both of them are way more multifaceted than any fucking r*tard dude dudebro will ever understand because they don't actually care about the characters.

Like yes? Dante and Vergil are THE OG aura farmers. They are confident in their strengths and talents and they fucking know it and they know they look absolutely stunning in everything they do but at the end of the day they are both two horrendously broken men and it takes way less than half a brain to see it something so obvious.

So as far as Punishing Gray Raven is concerned? They absolutely NAILED these characters and I do NOT say that lightly. The writers knew exactly what they were doing.

Not to mention Dan Southworth and Reuben Langdon absolutely would never have agreed to do these voice lines if they even suspected any ounce of disrespect. Vergil and Dante are special to them and it absolutely shows and I thank them so much for allowing the characters to be expanded in the way they always deserved.

Not whatever ego trip Adi Shankar went on to undermine these characters.

No, I do not hate the Netflix series, but DMC has ALWAYS been about two broken men finding out who they are as they navigate their deeply traumatic experiences but alsobring the absolute best so they can protect the ones they love. Not America raiding hell so yeah while I don't hate the show either, he definitely missed the fucking point.

It's obvious the writers at PGR actually love Devil May Cry.

Anyways, sorry for the tangent. These devil boys have been a huge part of my personality for 24 years and I'm proud of that. They are some of my favorite characters and I absolutely will stand up for them because they've been there for me during so many hard times.

the people who think vergil is some emotionless chad who exists purely to ‘aura farm’ or whatever the fuck actually piss me off i cannot STAND that side of the dmc fandom.

another rant nobody but me cares about but lorddd i gotta type this out somewhere. also wanna preface this by saying it’s about pgr vergil, but also just vergil in general, and directed at the people i mentioned above.

firstly — no it’s not ‘out of character’ for vergil to show vulnerability or emotion, he is a deeply emotional person. he feels deeply, he sees the world deeply, and he hurts so deeply that his motivation centred around being able to prevent himself from being harmed any more. he just isn’t (wasn’t) good at expressing that without violence pre-dmc5.

punishing grey raven did a really great job of capturing his post-dmc5 maturity, and it’s cohesive with the additional information we got in Visions of V regarding vergil’s inner thoughts. we simple haven’t seen enough of vergil outside of battle to be able to fully grasp how he’d act when he is free of chasing an ultimate goal, and is in a domestic, (mostly) relaxed situation.

it’s the people who’ve played approximately 5 hours total of ONLY dmc5, who then see clips of vergil in pgr that act all disgusted and get offended that vergil is actually capable of emotion and/or affection, who are the problem. they’re why vergil has been memed so much that people genuinely, honest to god(s) believe that he hates dante, he hates nero, and never cared at all. he gave nero his HEART, his book that he sees as an integral part of himself. the symbolism of him stating he wanted to be loved and protected, and then giving his ‘heart’ to be safeguarded by nero is so poetic (pun intended)!!! he literally trusts his son — after being with him while he was V, and fighting him as vergil at the qliphoth — to protect him.

vergil is capable of trusting, he is capable of affection, and he wants to be able to. it is in fact NOT out of character for him to express that (even if he sucks at doing so and is generally horrifically awkward about it. love the guy).

now don’t get me wrong — vergil is not a good person, and i’m not implying he is. he isn’t benevolent or kind or selfless, and he struggles (falls flat) at being empathetic to people he sees as more fortunate than him (such as dante, who he resented for being ‘better off’), but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of experiencing varying degrees of love. for god’s sake, bury the light literally describes him as having ‘secret love, bloodline yearns.’ vergil is the pinnacle, the definition of emotionally constipated.

he was a total shithead and a real prick in dmc3. he was also a total shithead and a real prick in dmc5 (i mean that affectionately. but don’t get me started on urizen LOL) but he is as childish as dante is. he banters and holds silly grudges and competes with his brother like a teenager with something to prove. he calls dante an idiot for still saying ‘jackpot’ and then turns around and says it himself, because he secretly loves to.

and holy fuck that was a LOT longer than i intended this rant to be and i should be studying for my EngLang exam but oh well!!! shoutout to whoever reads this entire block of drivel.

ok bye :3

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part Ten

Summary: Throwing a baby shower for your best friend should be fun but of course it wouldn't be you if something didn't happen to ruin it. Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 3.7k~ (Shorter than the last chapter but it was at a good stopping point) Warnings: An argument and a little angst. A little bit of suggestive/almost sexual content but yeah lol a/n: So a bit of a time skip after the last chapter since I want the story to progress a little bit more but yeah...enjoy! p.s. Barely edited and I kinda decided last minute to post this but yeah lol Start from the beginning

"Jina?" Jungkook calls out for her from the backyard.

"Yeah dad?" she asks, coming out of the kitchen and walking over to him, seeing how he's struggling with the placement of the 'Baby in Bloom' banner.  

"Is this high enough?" having gotten one side secure but unsure as to how far apart or how high to put the other.

"A little to the left, up, up, up, stop! That's perfect" she says making his whole form tense up before reaching for the piece of tape he had pulled out for it. 

"Thanks dad" she smiles softly and he nods. "I want this to be perfect for you and the little one" he says softly, her placing his hand on her stomach when she feels her moving inside. 

"I think Jangmi's a fan" she chuckles and Jungkook's smile is too beautiful not to document.

They both hear a soft click from the camera I've been carrying around to take pictures of the flower themed bridal shower for Jina and her little one.

"I'm sorry, I just had to" I give them both a soft smile and show them the image on the digital screen. "Thank you" Jina says and mirrors my smile and I nod. "Of course" I respond but before either of us can say anything else the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it" I say and head to the front door where I can already hear the buzz of conversation on the other side. 

"Hi! Oh my gosh it's been so long since we've seen you!" a group of girls we had gone to college with come piling in, each of them saying something to that effect to me while they walk in, giving me a short hug while I direct them to the backyard where most of the party decorations have been put up.

Seems from their reactions that Jina hasn't poisoned them against me which is comforting. Although I can see a hint of confusion along with pity laced in their greetings, seeing as though the last time they had been here was for my engagement party.

I hover near the door, ready to greet everyone for Jina so she can enjoy being outside and mingling instead and soon Jungkook has found his way back over to me.

"You're a pretty good host" he says, placing a hand on my waist from behind before pressing a quick kiss to my temple. "I haven't hosted many parties before but I'm glad you think so" I turn back to look up at him, opening the door for the next couple of girls that walk in.

"Who are they?" he whispers in my ear, faces he doesn't recognize in the slightest. "Either friends she's made since we graduated or coworkers" I whisper back, giving them a welcoming smile and gesturing towards the backdoor where a mix of many different excitable conversations are coming from. 

It seems as though after a final trio has walked in the guest list has been completed since Jina sticks her head in and waves for us to come back outside. 

The backyard is now full of friends, old and new as well as a few members of Jungkook's side of the family, namely his mom and a few of his aunts.

Yes it was awkward to be reintroduced to them as his girlfriend. Yes they're still glancing over at us anytime we get close to one another. And yes I can tell there are mixed reviews.

Something in me though tells me that his mom can see that we're happy together although I'm sure the age gap is going to be a hurdle for anyone to jump over.

"Seeing how your family reacted makes me worried to tell mine" yes, we still haven't told anyone in my family about us.

"It might be a bit of a shock to them but they'll come around" he says softly and kisses the top of my head, hoping to ease my nerves but as long as his family and mine are uncertain about us I don't think I'll be able to truly relax. 

Or at least until we tell them.

Jina claps her hands together a few times to get everyone's attention and announces that the baby shower games are about to begin and I walk over to help her but he pulls me back and cups my face. 

"I love you" those three words from him are the thing that makes all this uncertainty worth it. This mess of emotions, heartbreak and betrayal have all lead up to this. Having him say those three words to me are something I never knew I needed so much.

"I love you" I reply shyly, closing my eyes when he places a kiss on my forehead before he nods towards Jina. "She needs you" he says softly and I look back and see how she's trying to decide on which game to go with first, a deep frown on her face and so I head over to help her sort things out. Essentially taking on the master of ceremonies role so she can enjoy herself.

~~~~

After the games are done and everyone has eaten to their heart's content we sit down to watch Jina open her presents.

Cooing and cheering are the reactions that come out as the various baby items are revealed, each one even cuter than the last. 

Moments later I hear a rather loud car pull up with music blaring, giving me a pit in my stomach making me immediately turn towards Jungkook, my hands slightly shaking.

He can tell who it is right away but luckily with the 'ooos' and 'awws' from the group of girls Jina hasn't noticed. 

"I'll take care of it" he says softly but I shake my head, "I'm coming with you" I say and before he's able to convince me otherwise I'm already halfway out the door, faced with the devil himself walking up our driveway.

"Heard my ex girl is throwing a baby shower for my baby mama. How quaint" Jared says, his cocky, smug smile is one I wish I could claw off of his face. I can feel how Jungkook is poised to step in whenever I deem fit but he knows I can handle him myself. 

"Ah, so I see she got you on a leash" he chuckles but Jungkook shrugs in response. "At least she cared enough to put a collar on me" he replies, his heir of giving zero fucks about whatever insults Jared might try to throw his way has me turned on a lot more than I'd like to admit.

Jared catches the shine that the delicate 'JK' charm  on my necklace casts and I can see a muscle feather in his jaw.

"What are you even doing here Jared?" his name tasting like poison on my lips.

"This is a baby shower for my baby mama and my little baby girl so I have every right to be here" he says, his try at staking his claim just makes him sound like a little boy, crying to his mom about getting a toy that he wants.

"Baby showers aren't for men. You weren't invited" I say and he clearly glances up at Jungkook to counter my argument but he knows it's pitiful at best and the look I give him is response enough. 

"Look, can I just talk to you? Alone?" Jared asks, revealing his true motive for being here since he's cracked under pressure within minutes of being here. 

"I have nothing I want to say to you and I have even less of an interest of being alone with you. Ever" giving emphasis to the last word, backing up a few steps to where Jungkook is, him placing a possessive hand on my waist.

"You know, I always thought you were naïve but I never thought you'd whore yourself out to the first man who gave you even a single shred of sympathy when you had your heart broken" he spits out and Jungkook snaps, his fist clashing with Jared's jaw. 

"Fuck!" Jared chokes out, coughing and on all fours, his world spinning with a single punch. I walk up to him and lean down, tilting my head an catching his furious glare. 

"What was that you said about a leash?" I chuckle and when he tries to say something else Jungkook kicks him in the stomach, the wind knocked out of him as he gasps for breath. 

"Try it" Jungkook says, egging Jared on but he quickly scrambles to his feet and spits off to the side to get rid of the blood in his mouth. "I could sue you!" Jared says but Jungkook scoffs, "I know the full extent of the law boy" he says, talking down to him and Jared's brows furrow, having forgotten the fact that he is an attorney.

"Then you know that means I could get you thrown in jail for this" he counters, practically shaking in his boots. "Which further proves that I know how to get around it" Jungkook says, shaking out his hand for a second. 

Jared winces as he tries to grind his teeth, cradling one side of his face with his hand, his fiery glare poised to kill if possible, aimed straight at Jungkook. 

"Go home" I say to Jared, his eyes coming back to me where again Jungkook is standing by my side, Jungkook's eyes in contrast are cool, calm but sharp, one wrong move ending with Jarred tied up in so much legal litigation he might as well take a plea bargain before even getting caught. 

When he tries to open his mouth again to say some thing I repeat myself, emphasizing both words until Jared realizes he's lost this round. 

But let's face it...he's never going to win. 

We'll just have to wait and see how stupid he is and how long it's going to take him to figure that out.

Once Jared speeds away in his shitty car that matches his equally shitty personality I turn to Jungkook and grab his right hand immediately.

"You're hurt" I mutter, assessing the bruising, swollen fist that he stretching out, a couple of the knuckles busted. 

"I'm fine darling, nothing a little ice can't fix" he says, cupping my face with his other hand after smoothing out the crease between my brows. He tilts my chin up to get my attention off fussing over him, distracting me from what Jared had said.

"Are you okay?" he says softly, looking in my eyes and showing that what Jared said couldn't be remotely true and I know that, deep down and at surface level I do but it doesn't make it hurt any less. 

I haven't let Jina or Jared's words get to me ever since everything happened but if I don't process it all soon I feel like I might snap, and the person I would snap at would probably be Jungkook.

"I'm sorry" I say, looking to the side and blinking back the angry tears that I feel are starting to fall. Angry at them, at myself, at everything. 

"I wanted this to be a day about Jina and I'm trying really hard to compartmentalize it so I can be happy for her but-" I cut myself off with a sob, covering my mouth to muffle the next.

Jungkook pulls me in, not telling me to stop crying, not saying anything at all. He knows I need time to ride this out since I usually stop it as soon as it starts.

I'm trying to mend the bridge between Jina and I and although things will never be the same I don't want him to feel like he has to choose between me or his daughter. Having her around more, seeing her pregnant and happy again has hit something in me that I didn't realize I had been missing. 

If things had been different maybe that would've been me.

If Jared was a different man, a man of respect and integrity then maybe I would've been the one expecting. Happily married and bringing a life into this world that was a symbol of the love I shared with my husband.

I don't want Jared. 

Not in the slightest but I guess I truly haven't morned the life that I thought I was going to have. 

One where I was happy and ready to share my relationship with everyone I know. 

One that people wouldn't judge at a moment's glance. 

One that would be accepted, celebrated even. 

One I didn't feel the need to hide from the ones that I love.

"Hey" Jungkook says softly, pulling back and cupping my face, feeling a shift in my cries, the tears I'm shedding different now. 

"You know I love you right?" he says, cupping my face again with both hands, wiping away the tears that haven't stopped but I nod weakly, my bottom lip jutting out as I try to choke back the sobs.

"And you know that no matter what I want you to be happy" I nod again and look up at him this time. 

"If this is too much for you I understand" he says, his eyes now changing, the way his brows are pinched together as if what he's saying pains him but he's forcing it out for my wellbeing. 

"No. No don't you say things like that!" I shake my head and pull away from him. "You don't get to say things like that because you think you know what's best for me"

"I was just-"

"No! If you can't handle this then fine but you do not get to make this decision for me" I say, my tears going from angry, to sorrowful, to heartbroken again. 

He takes a step closer but I take one back. 

"Tell Jina I'm sorry" I say and walk into the backyard, hiding away from the guests inside and going to that same clearing I had found months ago to process, not thinking that this time he would be one of the reasons for my tears.

~~~

The background noise of laughter and conversation soon dies down and I'm left alone with my thoughts, but when I hear a twig snap behind me I know my time of solitude has ran out.

"I don't want to hear it Jungkook" I say over my shoulder. 

"He told me what happened" Jina says, her voice catching me off guard, making me jump.

I wipe the now dried up tears off my face as though it would make me more presentable, my eyes no doubt a bloodshot red.

"I'm sorry" I mumble, hugging myself foolishly trying to keep the summer night chill away but a warmth is draped around my shoulders, her having brought out one of Jungkook's oversized coats for me which I accept, his scent bringing me comfort even if at this point I'm too scared to face him. 

"The girls were all raving about the party. Saying you did an amazing job with the theme and everything" she says, distracting from the true reason she came out here. 

"I hope I didn't distract you from the party" I apologize, feeling as though my dramatic exit from the short lived argument might've been observed from the inside.

"You didn't. I mean we were wondering where you had disappeared to but my dad just said you weren't feeling well and wanted the rest of us to keep having fun" she says, making me feel a little bad but I know that wasn't her intention.

"I know I fucked up...and I know you'll probably never trust me again. But if you ever need anything or want to talk...?" she trails off and I nod and utter a quiet thanks under my breath. 

"Maybe we shouldn't host parties here anymore...seems like this house is cursed" she makes a weak attempt at a joke and I hum, not really reachable at the moment. 

"My dad and I took care of cleaning up so if you want to go back inside now the place is back to normal" I nod again and she lets out a bit of a disheartened sigh.

"Thank you for the party, it really meant a lot to me" she says the last part a little bit softer and I turn around to look at her, not wanting her to think that I'm angry at her because truthfully I'm not.

"I'm glad you had a good time" I say and give her a sad smile which she takes as a small win. "Get home safe" I add and she says a quick thanks as well and takes her leave moments later but pauses just at the edge of the clearing and turns back.

"You guys are good together, and I can tell you really love him" she says, words I never thought I'd hear from her. 

"I do" my voice breaking and she nods, returning the sad smile I had given her just moments ago.

"I'm never calling you mom though" she jokes making me let out a halfhearted chuckle. 

"My dad says stupid stuff sometimes thinking he knows best but don't let it get to you" she says and when I try to say something she gives me a knowing look. 

"That's something you're gonna have to deal with while being with an older man" she chuckles and walks off, leaving me alone again with my thoughts.

~~~~

Ten or so minutes pass by before I decide it's cold enough to face going back inside.

When I walk in through the sliding glass door I see him sitting on the couch, waiting up for me. 

"If you stayed out there much longer I probably would've sent out a search party" his tone playful and I hum, sitting on one of the armchairs facing the couch.

"I shouldn't have sprung that on you while you were already feeling vulnerable. That was a bad call on my side" he admits, getting straight to the point. 

"It just hurts that you think my love for you is so fickle" I say softly and he immediately kneels in front of me, taking my hands in his. 

"I don't doubt your love for me. I see it every time you look at me. Your eyes, your smile, your body language are all very honest and show me just how much you care but I just feel as though being with me is a burden to you" he says softly and at that I'm starting to understand where he's coming from. 

He's doubting himself. He thinks he's holding me back. He thinks that he's hurting me.

I cup his face in both of my hands and make him look at me, seeing how his eyes have gone glossy, his furrowed brow now the one I'm smoothing out.

"Being with you is not a burden. You've shown me what true love is. Selfless, kind, passionate and unapologetic. Our love might not be the most conventional but there are so many things in life that aren't either and they're praised for that fact" I say and he smiles a bit. 

"In another life if we find each other again maybe things will be easier but I am very happy with the life we're living now" I say and wipe away a stray tear that had fallen from the corner of his eye.

"Are you?" I ask and he nods, sniffling a little and leans forward to kiss me. "So so happy" he whispers, a soft smile spreading on my lips. 

"Now no more sadness and no more trying to push me away otherwise I'll start to think you don't like me anymore" he tilts his head at that, acting as if he was contemplating my statement and I push on one of his shoulders making him lose his balance. 

He grabs my wrist and pulls me down with him as he falls on his ass from his knelt down position which mind you isn't a far fall but he makes it worse by pulling me with him, pushing him onto his back while toppling onto him.

"What'd you do that for?" I chuckle as he groans, acting as if it was such a hard fall. "You're the one who pushed me" and I roll my eyes, "You're fine, now come on" I say and hold my hand out to help him up. 

Once he's standing though he tosses me down onto the couch, making me squeal at the surprise attack, him hovering over me. 

"I think I forgot to tell you how beautiful you look today Bunny" he says, cupping my cheek and wiping away some of the smudged mascara off my cheek. "I probably look like a hot mess" I roll my eyes and he chuckles and shrugs, "Still hot" he counters as he peppers kisses along my neck.

"What's gotten into you?" my voice breathless making him smile against my skin. "Can't I make out with my girlfriend?" he pulls back and my nose crinkles.

"Don't say it like that" I cringe and he lets out a scoff. "Say it like what? You are my girlfriend still right? Or are you looking to change that already?" he asks, sliding his hand under my dress and up my thigh. 

"Girlfriend is okay for now" I shiver, goosebumps rising wherever he's touched. 

"So are you still protesting?" he hums, kisses more deliberate, more sensual. 

He knows what he's doing.

"No" I squeak out and he lets out a cocky chuckle.

"That's my girl. You did such a good job today, hosting and acting like the woman of the house" he hums, his hand now resting on my hip, grinding against me, my eyes fluttering shut. 

"Acting?" I breathe out, calling him on his bullshit.

"My mistake" he says and trails his kisses back up my neck, placing soft but lingering kisses on my lips. "You are the woman of the house. My perfect girl always taking care of me" he hums and I smile, wrapping a leg around his thigh, pulling him closer. 

"Needy tonight are we?" he says, his hips having more space now, grinding down harder, pressing against me so I can feel how much he wants me. 

"Fuck I can't wait to make you my wife" he mumbles out, my breath hitching at that. "You like that? Want to be my pretty little wife?" he taunts, his tone making me dizzy, whining when he bites my shoulder as a reminder to respond. 

"Yes" I breathe out and although this isn't a real proposal his true intentions show me he wants a future together, although he's always made that very clear.

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[inbabylontheywept]

holy hell are people just crueler in arizona????

how would the idea to drag a 2nd grader around on gravel until his back is destroyed even occur to a person????

glad you have your sister to back you up. as a certified big sister (the certificate being the shirt i got saying "awesome big sister" after the birth of my second baby sister), this is what must be done for siblings. you can't fuck with them, that's our job. if there were a nobel prize for big-sistering, i think she should win, but alas, there isn't.

my dad grew up in phoenix/scottsdale and was also bullied in school. once when he was a teen he was walking home and some random boys sprayed mace in his face for no reason and drove off (they were later busted for illegal possession of a weapon, as there was a gun in their backseat). is there something in the water there?

Ehhhhhhh. I've talked to some people about events like this in my childhood, and gotten a lot of responses along the lines of "What Bastard Ass Corner of Hell Did You Crawl Out Of," so here's my multitheory of Arizona Weirdness.

The Summers: Arizona doesn't do daylight savings because it has no desire to save any daylight. Whenever people aren't looking, it tries to discreetly pick pieces of sunlight off its plate to feed to the dog. There was a humiliating incident a few years ago where it thought nobody was looking and tried to throw a large piece of sunlight out an open window into the backyard, but the window was not open, it was merely very clean, so it SMACKED into the glass and slid down and fell on the kitchen floor while everyone watched. This incident is still spoken of in hushed winters in PNW dinner parties. The summers of Arizona make everyone a little manic. Fortunately, God realized this was going to be a huge problem, so He had for the foresight to limit summers to only approximately 6 months of the year. Adding fuel to the fire is that the mania is accompanied by an outside temperature above 110 F (43 C) so you either stay inside and get this very intense kind of cabin fever (like watching TV static on Adderall) or you go outside where you are both energetic and in extreme physical discomfort. Most of the people that are outside have actually tried their best to stay inside, it's just that the Cabin Fever finally succeeded in overriding their pain receptors, so they are basically the equivalent of mindless rage zombies unless they are actually inside of a pool at that very moment. This is why everyone in Arizona owns pools.

The Mormons: The Mormons are extremely resistant to cultural changes. This is because they pick their prophets from a group of 13 old men who are literally competing to see who lives the longest. The oldest gets to be in charge. If this sounds like a bad plan consider that any time one of them dies, everyone goes, ah, well, he probably wouldn't have made a good prophet then. You know. Because God killed him and all. I have always considered this hilarious in how brutal it is. Anyway, the Mormons consistently linger ~20 years behind the standard culture. So growing up in 1980's Mormonworld was, socially, very similar to growing up in 1960's Americana. Except I was in elementary school in the early 2000's, which meant that my social environment was probably most comparable to the 1980s, which television has led me to believe was the era that bullies were required to take mandatory Kung-Fu Dirtbiking courses.

The Water: If there was something in the water, we would still have to drink it.

The Water II: Maybe there's something in everyones water, but it only starts making you into an asshole when you drink a gallon and a half of it a day. Worth considering.

Dumbass Cowboys: Arizona reaaaaaally like its Wild West Heritage. Which in practice means that they are, culturally, very pro-violence. They're an open carry, stand your ground, castle law state, and they have been my entire life. This actually added quite a bit to my elementary school bitterness. It is extremely bizarre to be told, as a child, that you aren't even allowed to swear at people for hitting you while your parents would be allowed to keep shooting until they ran out of bullets. At which point they could call their complimentary NRA lawyer. I have a vague memory of my 3rd grade teacher saying that kids would be much nicer to each other if they were allowed to come to school armed, but alas, Columbine ruined that for everyone. She was actually a very nice lady when she wasn't arguing that children should be allowed to, occasionally, shoot each other. I think she was in her 60's then. Might still be alive.

[ricefamine]

Monster trio x fem!reader

Warnings: none!

How they dress for a date! And what they do while you get ready

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

Luffy❦

Just a shirt and pants he would honestly just wear something casual.

He would definitely try to help you do your makeup.. and fail MISERABLY.

It was 5 o'clock! Almost time for your date with luffy! You were getting all pretty unlike luffy.. as he was picking his plain shirt and plain pants.

"Luffy why can't you just wear a little nice for our dare"

"I dunno! I like these"

"Welp.. okay then!"

As you were doing your makeup he came up behind you and hugged you trying to steal your makeup brush as well.

"Let me do your makeup!! Pleaseee! (Name) PLEASEE!!"

"fine.. just don't make me look like buggy.."

He did the exact opposite of what you said. You might've looked way worse then buggy. (sorry buggy fans)

"Sorry!!"

He gave you a kiss on your lips but that wouldn't help you after he made you look like IT the clown. You eventually forgave him (just after 2 minutes of him kissing you and hugging you.)

The date was quite interesting.. after luffy had his 8th plate you guys were kicked out! Maybe you guys shouldn't go to a restaurant next time.

Zoro𖤝ᵎᵎ

More plain then luffy like WAY more plain..

He doesn't do much while you get ready but he does comment on your outfit (in a good way)

Zoro was sleeping as usual but it was almost time for your date! How could he sleep at such a wonderful time.. you shake him awake to remind him about your date but he still stayed asleep.. so you poured cold water on him a whole bucket.

"OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL!"

"Oh good your finally awake! Okay now go get changed for our wonderful date honey!"

He stares at you like your insane but he still goes to get ready. You physically revolt seeing how plain this man is.. white shirt with blue jeans? Has a man ever been this plain?

"Really? Are you gonna wear THAT?"

"Well yeah.. they're clothes aren't they?"

"You know what nevermind.."

You start changing into your outfit and zoro loved it a whole bunch.

"You look nice."

"Thank you zoro that's the nicest thing you've said all day"

"No like you look great."

He gave you a kiss on the cheek.

"So beautiful (name)"

You were so flattered he never acted like this!

"Thats so sweet zoro, I'm sorry for calling you plain.. but I wasn't wrong though."

You guys went on your date just to realize zoro was once again in debt to nami, welp spending money on a man isn't that bad right..?

Sanji𓐐𓎩๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑.

He gets all dressed up! You guys always match hehe.

He definitely compliments EVERY PART OF YOUU and hugs you, kisses you everywhere

Almost time for your date! Sanji was getting everything he needed to wear and started to dress up! A beautiful suit that's your favorite color! And he got you a dress the same color as his suit it hugs your body wonderfully, even if you think otherwise he still thinks you look absolutely stunning.

"You look so beautiful mon chéri, I've never seen a woman as gorgeous as you."

"Thats so sweet hun thank you, I could say you look handsome as well, because you are."

"Oh don't flatter me.."

He hugs you from behind and kisses the back of your head and cheeks. He held your hands still from behind caressing them like they were jewels.

"Your hands are so soft baby, I could hold them for hours."

He complimented you the whole way to the restaurant! No man could replace him. There's no man who could make you feel as special as him, and they'll never be one. At least in your life.

‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ㅤ ׅ.ᐟ.ᐟ

Thank you for reading!! I wasn't posting for a little cuz I was tired asf and depressed lol but I'm back! Hope you enjoyed!!!

[ninjathrowingstork]

Same brainwave! I've been mentally rotating this idea after switching over to rewatch s1 of Altered Carbon after Murderbot (needed similar genre but something I'd already seen while making something), how they both have the big blonde Swedes as characters who don't own or have much say over these bodies they're put into, in the middle of a diverse cast (this is also how I noticed only the Bamcroft family in AC are white, aside from Ryker's body that Tak is using unless I'm forgetting someone). In true Murderbot spirit, I was working on the idea and meaning while bored at work yesterday and I'll probably work out the thesis today on how this idealized male appearance is something assigned to both characters who, despite that, are more valued for their ability as a weapon and a tool. MB isn't a white male, and Tak is Slavic-Japanese, and I remember there being buzz over Joel Kinnaman being cast years ago despite his exactly matching Ryker in the book, and yeah MB doesn't get a physical description, and this universe not seeming to have the same standards and connotations regarding it's appearance, but for us the audience it makes an interesting argument about that specific complexion and physique being told are ideals, and yet we see sec unit completely objectified and socially powerless. Similarly, the person we see in AC isn't actually the man who owns that body, it's been rented out for Takeshi Kovachs to use while the actual owner is in prison, as a commodity. So, after all those too-long sentences as I'm running on two sips of coffee today, what I think I'm getting at is having Alexander as Sec Unit works, making this giant Ken Doll into someone who ISN'T male, and is only just seeing itself as a person, and that physical difference makes everything else a sharper contrast against the rest of the cast.

I wasn’t expecting to have to fight for my life in the “MB looks like a person trenches” but its entire arc(s) is on both dehumanization and rejecting humanization. MB’s story is about defining what it is between the two extremes — nonhuman/bot and human. To do that it’s essential to the story that it looks like a person, like Data, Janet, or the synths from Alien.

It’s in the text that it has a human face to reassure clients. Clients look at it and see a faceless robot with no more intelligence than a roomba or they see a person and it hates both reactions. Roomba is easier to deal with and ignore, which is why it keeps the helmet on. It’s in the text that it can pass at a glance as a heavily augmented human so long as no one looks too closes at the ports for guns built into its arms or its metal skeleton.

Secunit doesn’t want to be a person but its flesh parts means it can’t help but look like one and it gets freaked out by people treating it like one. It’s threading very fine needle on its journey of self discovery to figure out what the secret third thing is between person and bot, that’s literally the point of the last two novellas.

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Reading Rooms

What a week 😩 ngl, it's been shit, but the wonderful works below and my own little tippy tapping has kept me going.

I made a Masterlist of previous weeks if that's helpful 😘

Always remember to heed the warnings posted by the individual authors. What I'm happy to read may not be what you're happy to read, so I take no responsibility if you find something you're not into.

And finally, Tumblr is a community. Reblog, gush like you've never gushed before - I promise you, the authors below will love it, and love you for it! We write because we love to, but we share our work because we love the community of it. If you read something you like, let the world know! 💕

The List

This week, I finished the Menu mini-series 😢 AND I also finished a Chris Beck one-shot - By Another Hand - literally no idea if anyone is still interested in reading about our space boyfriend, but throw me some love if you are. I totally wrote it for myself, but sharing's caring... as you'll see in the fic 😏 - it'll be out on Friday.

In other news, @ramp-it-up is celebrating 5k followers with an epic #PraiseMe5k. I know we're all eager to please 😏 so let's create some super hot works to celebrate!

Now onto the fics that kept me somewhat sane this week!

Bucky Barnes

I've literally only read Bucky this week. Sorry not sorry.

Declassified continues to blow my mind. @dreamwritesimagines is throwing out chapters so fast and when I tell you they are all INCREDIBLE?!?! Like, just amazing. I am so fixated by this story. I'm obsessed with Birdie. Bucky is just 🤌 perfection. It's amazing. This absolutely MUST be on your reading list. Chapter 5 AND Chapter 6 both out this week and you need to get the notifs as well because the headcannons and thought that Dee is putting into this is nothing short of amazing.

@buckyseternaldoll (Elle) deserves ALL of your love this week. Blow up her blog with kindness and sweet thoughts. She's not only blessed us with He Feels Everything (ummm... WILD! And also wonderful!), Mirror Me (fucking hot)... y'know what? Just... here's the Masterlist - thank me later 😘 Not a miss in there, every single one a banger.

Fault Lines by @cheekybarnes is SO good. I am STILL thinking about this line: “Then put on some boots and meet me at the barricades instead.” I adore supportive Bucky 🥰 AND while we're on with Ash, you also need to read Promise without Ceremony which was just the most divine thing ever. Heartbreaking, uplifting, romantic... perfection.

Busy by @aquaticmercy is another smash. So cute, so sweet. Daddy Bucky makes me want to bite things.

Late Night by @materia-girl88 was sooo yummy!! I too am feral for the tank top and the slicked back hair.

Hoooooly shit. Holy shit. You must, must read @ramp-it-up's FMK. You have to. The dialogue? The BIKE? The praise 😩 I need to devour DJ's entire Masterlist. You do too - go on, you know you want to!

Pain Pills and Confessions is SUCH as sweet little thing by @orellazalonia. Super cute! Also - Date Prank so really cute and funny!!

@marvelwitchergilmore strikes again! Compromised Positions is sooo good you guys! It's the fake marriage real love story I needed this week. Amazing!

Close Quarters by @samazing0831 is lovely. No expectations, no demands, just a quietly lovely and wonderful Bucky 🥹

The One that Got Away by @writing-for-marvel - part 2 also linked - absolutely heartbreaking. Seriously, bring tissues, you'll need them!

Thin Walls by @makehydrafictionagain was SO much fun!! And of course, now I have Bed Chem on repeat 🫡

Eyes Don't Lie by @buckysleftbicep - holy shit this was hot. Like, so hot. I need him biblically.

A soft, sweet morning with Bucky by @readreidsworld - so lovely!

Darling @navybrat817 blesses us once again with a soft, sweet daddy to be Bucky 🥰 Make It or Break It

Dancing with Bucky at a wedding? 🙏 @eternalnoble makes it so in Table 11

Drunkin Love and the whole gang is here?! Sign me up! I loved this so much @korraven!!

A Night from the Past by @barnesonly - bow down, this was EXCELLENT! So, so excellent! 🙌

Courting by @inkdrinkerworld is peak romantic Bucky. He's so smooth! Ugh, I just love him so much!

every time the sun comes up by @swordgrace is so gorgeous and beautiful. The sweetest, softest smut with Bucky.

@thunderbolt-ing has written I Can't Do It Alone - three parts linked within, all of them are so, so great. I could just devour Congressman Barnes. Like, I need to nibble on that man.

And making the cut because HOW could I leave this one out - Sunny, the amazing @sunday-bug has written daddy Bucky who's also feral for his gorgeous wife and this was so hot and so wonderful and can this be real life please? I LOVED Time To Get Busy 🤌

No misses on this list, lads. Feast your eyes and get your reblogging fingers ready!