#except it went to the other fucking side of the country and has not moved since for like a week

[gutsby]

Waiting Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Warnings: 18+. Protected p-in-v. Praise. Overstimulation. Sweet, possessive, slightly obsessive and pussywhipped Joel. Daddy kink. Drug use. Angst. Accidental creampie. Joel fucking you while on the phone with your father.

Part 2 | Part 3

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad presses. A hint of concern rises from his end of the line.

At length, Joel grips both of your legs and brings them up over his shoulders, and he grins before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelp as you crush the phone to your ear, hoping your father can’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

Aside from the fact that he smoked like a chimney and bumped far more Billy Joel than any man ever should, Mr. Miller was an A-OK friend—your father’s best friend.

All you needed was a ride home for the holidays.

From the second you’d set foot in his old Ford Bronco, you sensed this trek wouldn’t be an enjoyable one—thirty-hour road trips rarely ever were—but you leaned back in the passenger seat, propped your feet on the dashboard, and bopped along to ‘You May Be Right’ for the fifty-fifth fucking time that morning and smiled.

Joel frowned.

“Dogs off the dash,” he muttered, swatting at your bare, polished toes before you kicked his touch away.

“Shotgun puts her feet up, driver shuts his cakehole.”

That wasn’t even how the saying went. Oh well.

Joel slowed the car to sixty in the right-hand lane and smacked your ankles even harder. You yelped.

“Hey! You can’t hit a woman!”

“I’m not hitting a woman, I’m hitting a little gremlin,” Joel tried not to grin as he delivered another tart slap to your foot, and you almost jerked into the passenger door.

He momentarily righted the car before it went veering into the lane beside it, seized one of your feet, and tried to forcibly shove it off the dashboard, to no avail. As soon as he moved one limb, the other would glide right back up to take its place; Joel’s hands were big, but they weren’t massive enough to grab hold of both of your legs at once and make you stay the fuck there, Christ’s sake.

You liked to see him flustered. Brought a whole new hue to his tough, stubbled cheeks that folks rarely got to see. You squirmed in your seat when he reached for your side.

“Wh—NO! No tickling!” you cried, trying your hardest to roll away.

But the man was nothing if not a lover of cheap shots and filthy antics. He’d never played a clean game in his life and wasn’t about to start now.

His gaze darted from the road to your writhing form, pinned against the door and begging him to stop, while he pressed his foot harder on the gas and smirked.

“Too much?” he teased, “Say pretty, pretty please.”

In other words: give up. You would do no such thing. Your elbow jutted out to the side and clipped his fingertips sharply, and right before he could reach for you again, you were heaving yourself up and leaning almost halfway out the open window, trying to shy away from his touch.

“You fuckin’ nuts?! Get down!” he yelled.

“But it just may be a luuuunatic you’re lookin’ for!” you sang along to your old friend Billy Joel and pretended not to see, or hear, Joel Miller twisting desperately across the center console to take hold of your belt loops.

“Get—I swear to God, kid—DOWN!”

Joel had just managed to finagle a loose, feeble grip on your denim waistband as he tried to keep the car from soaring across three lanes of traffic, was just about to yank you back inside and give you a red-faced, fatherly lecture of a lifetime, when a sound startled you both.

A siren, and a set of flashing blue lights behind you.

You scrambled back in your seat and swallowed a lump in your throat the size of a peach. You turned off Mr. Long Island.

“Great! Good fucking going,” Joel griped beside you as he flicked on his blinker and started to pull off the road.

Dogs no longer on the dash—and a very pissed off cop pulling up behind your car on the shoulder of the road—you got the feeling this would be a long couple of days.

You hadn’t even made it outside the city limits of Boston.

Somewhere between Richmond and Roanoke, the two of you turned off the highway to find a place to sleep.

Joel had sat and stewed and ignored you for the customary duration of about two hours before choosing to re-engage in conversation, but deep down, you knew he was still kind of irked by that reckless driving citation he’d received. You couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Though it had been pretty funny when the state trooper had approached the car and pointedly asked, “What the hell was your daughter doin’ danglin’ outta this thing?!” Joel was nowhere near as amused as you, but he managed to roll with it and told the cop you were just trying to wave to the cows in the fields passing by.

The police officer hadn’t bought it.

He probably would have arrested you both if you hadn’t been such a coquettish flirt and somehow managed to persuade the man to let your ‘dad’ off with just a ticket.

You had hoped that would temper Joel’s anger some, but if anything, the sight only seemed to make him more mad at you. You weren’t sure why.

Presently, you pulled up to Balmaceda’s Mountain Lodge and cast a bleak look at the front office before you.

This looked nothing like the snug, homespun mountain retreat you’d been picturing in your mind. Ahead of your car, there stood a single-story concrete slab of a motel, tilted to one side and consumed almost entirely by the dark of night and wide open wilderness. A big block letter neon sign displaying the owner’s name in red now barely flickered above a muddied, pinkish glow. You groaned.

But before you could complain to your travel companion, Joel was already stepping out of the car and heading toward the main office. Hastily, you followed after.

“No way, Miller. No fucking way are we staying in Murder Motel,” you hissed.

“Bal-ma-ceda’s,” Joel intoned with a maddeningly accurate lilt, ignoring your protests, “I think that’s a Chilean name.”

He swung the door wide for you to enter and pretended not to see you shoot him a glare as you strolled in.

“Needin’ a room?”

The lady behind the counter barely graced your entrance with a look.

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you got,” Joel replied, smiling.

“Smoking or non?”

“Smoking, please.”

Of course he would. You could already feel the fetid stench of American Spirits wafting up to your nostrils.

“King or two Queens?”

“Queens,” you and Joel answered in unison.

At first, the woman nodded, flicked through a rolodex on her desk and nosed through a couple yellowed pages in front of her. Then, frowning, she looked back up.

“Sorry. All the Queens are took up. Rest of the rooms are being fumigated but the one—” she tapped a manicured nail on the motel map, “—and it’s got a King. That okay?”

No. No, it was not. You opened your mouth to speak but were shortly cut off by the woman before you could.

“Of course, if you don’t want dad hoggin’ up all the sheets, there’s a pull-out sofa for him to sleep on.”

The sixty-something desk clerk offered a smile, and you likely would’ve returned the favor if you hadn’t been so deeply nauseated at the thought of everyone around you assuming that Joel was your father. You chanced a look at the man, who seemed equally uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You sighed.

“Alright.”

Defeated, but marginally pleased that you wouldn’t have to share a bed with your ‘old man’ that night.

Joel paid and signed the papers without another word, or look, to you or the woman. By the looks of it, he just wanted to book the room and get the hell out as fast as possible, his brow pinched inward and lips zipped tight.

He’d turned to leave so quick that he was almost approaching the door when the lady called out,

“Mr. Miller! You forgot your keys.”

You hardly needed to steal a glance in Joel’s direction to see that he was flushed. Even blushing a bit.

You strode over to the counter and intercepted the keys she was dangling for someone to take, then politely, finally, were able to manage a smile and a thank-you.

You turned back to Joel.

“Here you go, Daddy.”

In a blink, the small silver set was pelted in his hands, and the man nearly dropped them—and lost his balance. By some miracle, Joel managed to catch them between his big sweaty palms and step aside just in time for you to saunter past him, straight through the door.

“I’m starved,” you announced, then, averting your face to hide your smug expression and lower your voice a bit, “Feed me, Daddy.”

In that moment, Joel thanked every last one of his lucky stars that his pants were made of denim, and that the denim itself was thick. And that the woman at the front desk was swift to turn her attention back to her tabloid magazine, away from you two, and didn’t look up again.

If they weren’t, and if she hadn’t, it would’ve been plain as day to see that Joel Miller was sporting a hard-on.

A huge, swollen hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to walk and haul luggage and try to keep apace with your steps as you sailed along the gravel drive. So big the man had to will himself not to limp, not to make it known how stiff he was, until he eventually failed at both.

Once you’d grabbed your bags back at the car and made it up to your place, you entered Room 102 with a lightness you hadn’t felt all day. Joel slogged behind with all of the baggage and a boner beneath his jeans that probably could’ve cut sheet metal, if needed.

He was fucked. No doubt he’d have to enlist in the Witness Protection Program after your real father found out that his best friend had gotten visibly bricked up for you, his one and only daughter. How awkward holiday dinners were bound to be from that point on; how humiliating it seemed to him to pop a chub at a thing as dumb as saying ‘daddy’; how batshit insane it was that he hadn’t gotten laid in almost a year, and you were still, somehow, the only one he wanted to break the dry spell.

Joel was better than this. A fucking pro at self-control and all things dirty old guys didn’t do. He could chill out.

He just needed to rub one out in the bathroom, fast.

So, while you flopped down on the bed, Joel dropped every bag and made a beeline for the toilet. Slammed the door so hard he probably could’ve knocked the thing off its hinges, but he didn’t care. He was wrestling his belt, button, and zip off in a second. Then haphazardly turning on the sink to mask the sounds of all that was to come. No pun intended.

He yanked his thick, throbbing, rock-hard member out of its confines and had to hiss through his teeth to keep from moaning. The sensitivity he felt was unbearable, the front of his boxers already painted with pre-cum.

Gingerly, Joel wrapped one hand around his cock and raised the other to anchor himself against the sink. He slid his palm, which he’d just barely lubricated with some spit of his, up and down the shaft and groaned. A welt of pleasure formed in his chest, and he rubbed even faster. And, in spite of his legs feeling a bit like jelly, he stood there and fucked his fist and wished with every bit of himself that it was your warm, lush folds opening around him instead. Stifled a groan and would’ve paid any sum of money to hear your moans spilling out while he thrusted. The act here was more mindless and reflexive than anything else—jerking himself and soaking in the sharp, fiery sensations that shot up through his body.

To him, at least, it was all purely physical. Mechanical.

Nowhere near as euphoric and otherworldly as it would have been with your hand actually curled around him.

Or your lips. Or your tongue. Or your tight, wet cunt.

Fuck, he needed a shower.

Blindly, Joel moved inside the tub to his left and yanked the curtain shut over a space almost two times too small for his frame. He turned on the water and made it hot. Then he fisted his cock again, pressed his head to the shower wall, and pumped himself as fast as his forearm would allow him—trying all the while not to think of you.

You, with all your wily, shrewd ways were still the daughter of the man who guzzled down IPAs with him at the local dive bar every Thursday night over jalapeño poppers and buffalo dip. The man who clapped him over the shoulder and shook his frame with the kind of good-natured sneer that only a best friend could make, ‘A man as suave as you oughta get some tail every now and then. Go find you a gal and fuck her brains out, Joel!’

But the only ‘gal’ Joel wanted to rail was the one who called that man ‘dad’—and just called him ‘daddy’ for the first time that night—and he hated himself for it.

Sparks of pleasure continued to ignite across his lower half as he jerked himself in the shallowest, short pumps. He flicked his hand back and forth, circled the tip with his palm, and felt a groan start to claw at his throat. He tried to picture any face but yours but failed miserably.

All he could think, see, or breathe was you—imagining your lips enveloping the head of his cock, jerking him softly, taking him down to the back of your throat and bobbing that pretty little face up and down his length.

That sweaty, desperate fist of his just wasn’t cutting it.

For the first time, Joel couldn’t make himself cum.

Now even more pent-up and pussywhipped than he’d been when he first started, he slammed his palm against the wall and flung the shower handle in the opposite direction—turning the water as cold as it could get.

Five minutes passed, and the icy spray had scarcely left a dent in his raging erection. Joel stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stood in front of the mirror to see that he was still very hard.

Fuck this.

He bunched his strewn aside clothing together and held it over his crotch, discreet as he could, and waddled out.

And, either the temperature inside had just jumped fifty degrees or the world outside had just caught fire, but Joel’s face was flooded with heat the second he exited.

You were sprawled across the bed wearing nothing but a thin white tank, shorts, and fuzzy socks—and a scowl.

“Sofa’s broke,” you said.

Joel blinked.

“Broke?”

You nodded toward the busted sleeper couch at the far end of the room, torn to pieces and kicked a half-dozen times since you’d tried unfolding it in Joel’s absence.

The jaws of the old steel frame had simply refused to give way, and now the sofa was so out of sorts and misshapen that you had no hope of putting it back the way that it was. You sank further in the bed and pointed to the floor.

“You can sleep there.”

Joel eyed a flat sheet and a pillow laid across the carpet, visibly coated in dust and grime. He turned back to you.

“You’re smokin’ crack if you think I’m doin’ that.”

“Be grateful I’m not making you sleep in the car, daddy.”

Again with that fucking name. Joel tightened his grip on the clothes he was holding over his dick and tried to fight a thousand dirty thoughts threatening to seep back into his head.

Unfortunately, the dirty thoughts had hands—and were beating his ass to a bloody pulp when he first caught sight of your nipples poking up through your shirt. Just when the man might have started to drool or else begun humping that pile of clothes, you snapped your fingers.

“Miller Lite. Eyes up here.”

Fuck.

“Got a…stain on your shirt,” he grumbled in his defense.

“Shut up. Now, we can flip for the bed if you want.”

By turns, Joel’s focus was slowly coming back, and the man was trying like hell to find a place on your face that didn’t arouse him to no end—to help ease the intrusive thoughts and all. So far his search had yielded nothing.

“Like, uh…coin?” he asked. Endearingly stupid.

“Heads, I win,” you said, nodding, “Tails…”

Joel swallowed.

“Tails, what?”

“Tails, you tell me what was going on in your head when you were jacking off to the thought of me just now.”

Your words came out in a hurry, almost too quick for Joel to comprehend. He still heard them, though, and nearly choked on his spit when he tried to swallow again.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” you bit back, “I heard you moan my name.”

Joel didn’t remember that. Joel didn’t remember much of anything that had taken place in that bathroom apart from being implacably horny and unable to bust a nut. You stepped off the bed to stand in front of him.

“What? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” you sneered, “Think I’m just gonna run off and tell my da—”

“Don’t,” Joel’s response was immediate, insistent. Then, setting his jaw in a way you knew too well, contemplating about fifty different thoughts in the span of two seconds, he pressed the clothes pile to his crotch even tighter and sighed, “Don’t…do that, please. I’ll take the floor.”

You raised both brows, mildly amused.

“I said we could flip for it. C’mon,” you said.

“Ain’t got any coins.�� Joel was already retreating to his makeshift sleeping pad on the floor, eyeing the shag carpet for any traces of blood, piss, or rodent droppings. Before he made it too far, you reached for his arm.

Joel tensed under your touch.

“We can try something else.” Your voice was cloying, almost too sweet to be trusted.

It had just dawned on you then how bare the man standing before you was. Clad in only his towel, every taut, toned inch of Joel’s body was there on display—coated with sweat and a fine sheen from the shower, his skin practically shone in the glow of the bedside lamp. You watched him shift in place and saw the towel around his hips stir along with it. He never let those old clothes in his hands move an inch away from his groin, though.

“What game?” he asked.

“Something my roommates showed me,” you began, “‘Too Hot.’”

“Too Hot?”

“You heard me.”

“What, like— like Spin the Bottle, or some bullshit?”

Joel could just picture it: a gaggle of your college pals huddled around an old, empty bottle of Bud Light as you watched it turn circles again, and again, and again on the dorm’s linoleum floor. You tugging at the sleeve of some oversized man-child from a frat Joel couldn’t name, leaning in and beaming like the insatiable flirt he knew you to be, asking that boy if he wanted to sneak off somewhere and let his tongue take a tour of your mouth.

The thought made Joel’s stomach turn.

Presently, you wrinkled your nose up at him.

“Spin the Bottle? That’s rookie shit,” you made another face reminding Joel, once more, how little he knew of the life you lived 1,900 miles away from Austin, at college.

He still couldn’t shake the thought of those boys.

“No, Joel,” you shook your head, drawing your syllables out for effect, “‘Too Hot’ is just…edging your opponent.”

Joel’s throat tightened, and he tried not to let his eyes widen too much, but he was almost certain they had. Before he even knew the words he was saying, the thought of your father taking his fist—or a shotgun—to his face made him blurt out in response, stammering,

“We can’t— I can’t— can’t lay one finger on you, darlin’, you know that. Your dad would murder me.”

To his surprise, the smile on your face only widened.

“Bingo,” You stuck one pretty finger in his face like he’d made the world’s finest discovery, “You can’t touch me.”

“Huh?”

“That’s the whole fuckin’ game, Miller. We can kiss, but we can’t touch each other with our hands. First one to crack and grope the other player loses the game.”

Your expression now was something just shy of sadistic. Watching him with keen, narrowed eyes and a wicked little grin, it seemed you were half-expecting him to fold on the spot. No way was this a game your college friends taught you; you just wanted to play him. Make him lose.

And Joel was a man who couldn’t stand to lose, no matter the stakes.

You watched that failure-averse glint eclipse every shade of lust in his eyes, at least momentarily. Suddenly, Joel didn’t look so fearful of your father’s wrath or what lurid implications this night might bring—he just had to win.

“You suck, you know that?” he said, at last, dropping his makeshift shield from the front of his towel and knocking you flat on the bed with a single push.

“You wish I would,” you grumbled, heart still jumping up in your ribcage all the same. You scooted back.

“I bet you will.”

The man was a menace when he had the will to be.

At length, Joel crawled over your body and made room for himself snug between your legs. The bulge that he’d been trying to hide all this time was now heavy on your center, pressed tight to your stupid-thin shorts and the panties you’d conveniently forgotten to wear. He grinned.

“Are tongues allowed?” he hummed.

“Everything but hands,” you shrugged.

Try as you might to play it cool with him, though, every fibre of your being was alight with desire for the man on top of you. You flitted a look between his soft brown eyes and slightly parted lips and could’ve melted in that bed had Joel not lowered his head and dove right in for it.

His mouth was far gentler than expected. Reverent, even. He slotted his lips between your own and made a fine, delicate showing of just how tender and adept he could be while imparting his slow, sweet kisses. Skirted his tongue across your bottom lip before driving it inside, coaxed your mouth open to him in a matter of seconds. He was graceful. And patient. And lithe with that tongue.

Joel Miller was showing off for you—the bastard.

“Sweet little thing,” he groaned against your mouth, “Ain’t felt a tongue this shy on mine in a long time.”

Of course he’d try taunting you, too. Same old Joel.

“What’s it been? Two years since a woman let you touch her?”

“Twenty since I felt one this good.”

You would’ve liked to reach around the back of his head and seize a clump of that thick, dark, grey-speckled hair. But you couldn’t. Your hands remained plastered to the duvet beneath you, and then, just slightly, your fingers started to curl inward. Joel’s palms laid flat on either side of your head.

It felt weird; mashing lips, teeth, and tongue with a man who’d been alive about twenty years longer than you and went further back with your father than you could even remember. What felt even stranger was the fact that you couldn’t touch him, or take him between your two hands.

Joel’s tongue continued roaming every contour and crevice of your mouth like he had an ache for this taste that he just couldn’t quench. Your tongue tried keeping up, too, but frankly, you were too preoccupied by a pulse between your legs—your parts and Joel’s practically throbbing in time with one another—to work just as hard.

Even through the towel, he felt huge.

You whined when Joel started to grind up against you, and shortly, those fingers of yours that had just been grazing the sheets before were gripping them. Tight.

“Earlier…” Joel murmured between kisses, hips working a vicious pace against you, “You said you were hungry.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry—starved,” he corrected himself, and you almost could’ve smacked him for being so smug about it.

“What’s your point, Miller?” You were fisting the sheets beneath your palms and gyrating your whole body to meet the motions of the man currently dry-humping you.

All of a sudden, Joel’s movements stopped.

He peered down at you with a curious look.

“I could go for something to eat, too,” he declared.

You blinked. Stared. And just when you’d opened your mouth to say, well, maybe you should’ve grabbed us a bite to eat when we passed that Burger King on the way in, dipshit, Joel’s torso started to move down your own. Slow and painstaking as ever as he made sure not to graze one inch of your skin with his hands while he did.

You leapt back against the headboard, almost cracking your skull on the wood.

“Joel— Joel,” you hissed as the heels of your feet dug into the mattress below, and Joel just sank even further.

Then he was slowly, scrupulously pinching the fabric of your shorts between each index finger and thumb, gaze trained close on your lower half to make sure he never touched you, and he started pulling it down.

“This isn’t—” you started again, only to be offered a soft shush and an even quieter rustle of the cotton material sliding down both your legs.

You dropped your head on a pillow and probably could’ve burned a hole in the ceiling with the wide-eyed look you fixed on one spot, in utter disbelief of what he was doing.

“No panties, huh?” Joel observed. Gentle puffs of his breath were now fanning across the whole bare expanse of your lower half, and your pyjama bottoms were shortly discarded. His face was just hovering there, and you could tell that he knew you knew by the way he lowered his voice and brought his head to have only the tips of his chin stubble grazing your abdomen, “You needed this.”

Some lone remnant of ire flashed in your eyes.

“I don’t need shit from you, Miller. You need me. And you’re gonna lose this.”

Even though your gaze was still trained to the ceiling, you could feel him grin against your delicate skin.

“Hey,” he mumbled, “You said tongues are fair game.”

Fuck me, you wanted to keen the second his lips made contact with your…lower ones, and Joel swiftly got to kissing you there just as he’d done to you above. Hot, soft, and tender as the first rays of morning sun heralding a new day, he sponged his lips across the seam of your heat and made as if to massage the place, gently.

You could hear as well as you could feel that effusion of desire leaking out of your cunt and pooling around the man’s mouth. How eager he was to lap it up with his tongue, to grace your ears with those delectable squelching sounds, he caressed every inch between your folds and only sank deeper when you whined above him.

“Joel.”

Right now you couldn’t look down. Not with the way your legs were already trembling around his head, your chest heaving with the fastest, most frenzied breaths. You’d sooner die before you watched him unravel you like this.

“Darlin’, you’ve got a man soaked.” Some sound almost resembling a chuckle reverberated between your thighs and sent a brand new shockwave of pleasure in its wake, “You like it when daddy uses his mouth on this needy, wet cunt, don’t you?”

Yes, yes, you did. But your answer was nonverbal: a sharp curl of your toes and a grip between your fingers so tight across the sheets that he saw you veritably could’ve torn the linens in two.

Neither of you had laid a hand on the other.

Joel was perfectly content to make do with his mouth for now.

“Got those sheets all balled up, you’re fixin’ to rip ‘em.”

“My tongue make ya feel that good, honey?”

“Poor thing can’t even breathe it feels so nice, right?”

So he’d seen you hiccup, try to steady your breaths, and fail before succumbing to a string of lewd moans. Joel saw you, and knew how you felt, as if he’d had his own secret gauge for how good his mouth was doing you in.

Surely, he could’ve sensed the words before they ever came out of your mouth.

“Touch me, Joel, please.”

His tongue was just then making a lazy circuit around your clit, mouth saturated in your juices, when he smiled.

“Nah.”

Curt and cruel as ever. Then:

“No matter how fuckin’ perfect this pussy is, I ain’t losin’.”

He completed the arc with his tongue and took your bud between his lips, sucking in. You almost screamed.

“Motherfucker.”

“Miller, baby, Miller. Close, though.”

And just when you thought he’d had his fill of cheeky games, Joel sucked your clit even harder and flicked the tip of his tongue against your bundle of nerves until you were writhing, crying on the bed above him,

“JoelbabypleasebabyfuckmefuckohfuckitfeelsoGOOD.”

It was a bit tough to decipher through your strangled, desperate moans, but Joel got the picture. Heeding your requests, he kept at that pace above your clit and slid his tongue back and forth, over and over, lapping up your honeyed glaze like it was the finest thing he’d tasted. Scruff harsh against your thighs, lips soft in a perfect suction, Joel Miller had your head swimming in desire and your better judgment dissipating before your eyes.

At the first sign of bliss, your muscles clenched, and the last linchpin of your resolve crumbled right along with it.

You carded your hands through Joel’s hair and grabbed hold of those locks with a full-throated moan, using his head for shameless leverage to buck and rut your hips into his face as you rode out the peaks of your high.

And, ever the gentleman, Joel fought like hell to keep his lips and tongue connected to your core while you writhed above him—this time at liberty to work his arms under your thighs and hold them since you’d given up the game. He would’ve smiled if he weren’t so narrowly preoccupied, seeing you thrash about and moan out loud and fuck his face like it was the last thing tethering you to earth. He liked seeing you come undone beneath him.

A bit too much, if he were being completely honest.

While you made the languid descent from ecstasy and your breaths were still slowing in your chest on the bed, Joel was back on his feet. Padding toward the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him as he had before. When he returned in a minute or two, he was clothed. He fished for his keys in the pockets of his snug, stonewash Wranglers and made a face. He didn’t look at you.

“I’ll be back,” he said, starting toward the door.

“Back?” You sat up, perplexed, “The hell ya goin’?”

“Out.”

This motherfucker.

“Did I miss something? Were we not just seconds away from getting down to some how’s-your-father?”

Joel visibly grimaced at your choice of sex slang. Under the circumstances, you would concede it wasn’t ideal.

“O-kay, sorry,” you returned, crossing your legs out in front of you, “I mean…don’t you want me to get you off?”

Again, Joel’s expression twisted into something just shy of overwrought, weary, and repulsed—a look that you couldn’t begin to understand, for the life of you—and you watched him flit his eyes from the bed to the door, again and again, seeming to be pining for the sweet release of leaving your shared motel room as soon as possible.

You’d been with your fair share of emotionally avoidant fucksticks, but most of them didn’t ghost until after they’d gotten their nut and felt no reason to stick around. Joel’s exit seemed premature. Strange.

“So you don’t want to fuck?” you asked, deadpan. You’d never been one for beating around the bush.

“Can’t,” Joel shook his head, bringing one hand to rest on his hip while the other fiddled uncomfortably with his car keys, “Your dad…that’s just— that’s crossing a line.”

“And being nose-deep in my cunt isn’t?”

You stared him down, incredulous.

So now he decides to claim the moral high ground, after coaxing you to soak every inch of his beard and cum all over his tongue? How very fucking charitable of him.

“That’s different,” Joel retorted, rubbing his knuckles in a nervous tic, “That was a game. I won. We’re done.”

You set your jaw just tight enough to keep your tongue in check and refrained from firing off a brash, unsavory remark. It wouldn’t do either of you a lick of good.

You let him leave. Joel had told you that you could keep the bed, he didn’t mind, and then he slipped out the door without another word. Leaving you cold and alone on the soiled, tawdry floral bedspread of Room 102, wondering what the hell had gone so wrong in the span of the last five minutes. From the center of the bed, you could see Joel’s Bronco pull off into the silent, frigid night.

You were still hungry as shit.

Rolling onto your side and rummaging through the bags at the end of the bed, you found nothing even remotely edible—save for, literally, one of Joel’s brownie edibles—and you groaned out loud. You threw your shorts back on, stepped into your old Luccheses, and did a quick circuit around the room to find your jacket before you left. As it turned out, you’d forgotten it back in Joel’s car.

You dropped to your knees and went back to tearing through luggage, searching for some suitable outerwear.

By the end of that second suitcase foray, though, you found you had nothing of your own that was hefty enough to brave the below-freezing temperatures outside, so you had to settle on a dark brown, fleece-lined coat from Joel’s bag. It was durable enough but about four sizes too big—and reeked of cigarette smoke.

You trudged outside, not really knowing where you were going or what you were hoping to find. Your stomach growled, and a few cool gusts of wind came to lap at the bare skin of your thighs where Joel’s spit was still drying.

You stepped a few feet out and turned toward the road.

Bal-ma-ceda’s, you read the seedy neon sign and heard Joel’s enunciation of the name ring between your ears.

What you wouldn’t give for the greasiest, girthiest, barely-FDA-approved 7-Eleven corndog to kill your thoughts about that sleazy little fucker right now.

You started toward the convenience store across the street but quickly found that it was closed—along with every other establishment on that stretch of road. You glanced toward the front office and caught a glimpse of your old friend dozing behind the counter. The speakers outside were playing a tinny rendition of ‘Piano Man.’

Just as you tried not to barf in your mouth at the sound and silently primed yourself for a long, long trek through the boonies to the nearest gas station, you stopped.

In a compact little breezeway that cleaved the motel in two, you saw light pool around an old vending machine.

You almost fell over yourself trying to get to it.

Never mind the fact that there were about half a dozen ragtag teens decked out in camouflage and comically tattered denim cutoffs crowding the area. All absently smoking and blowing o’s, or else sipping on cans of beer in the cramped, concrete passage, they looked bored. A couple lazy smiles broke out upon seeing your approach.

You nodded back and sidled up to the snack dispenser.

Then you zeroed in on the first sugar-packed products you could find: a pack of sour gummy worms and a bottle of Sprite—no, Mountain Dew—and a chocolate bar. Maybe a bag of Cheetos or Fritos thrown in for good measure. All of the snacks were probably stale as shit and hadn’t seen a replacement since dinosaurs roamed the earth, but you didn’t care. You were prying singles out of your wallet and salivating before you could think.

“Gotta kick it a couple times ‘fore it’ll spit anything out,” one of the boys lounging around you piped up.

You’d just inserted a couple bills and were waiting for the machine to dispense your gummy worms, when the thing appeared to stall. Stuck in its tracks, like he’d said.

You raised a brow and tapped the toe of your boot to the appliance, turning toward the one who’d addressed you,

“Like this?”

“Nope. Nuh-uh.” The redhead got up and strode over, where his much bigger, square-toed boot delivered a kick to the vending machine that almost toppled it.

A bag of Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers dropped out.

The kid—who actually happened to be nineteen years old and a student at some college a few states away, along with his whole group of friends—was kind enough to repeat the same ritual for all of your treats. You’d just gathered your stuff together and were about to thank him for his services, when the guy presently stuck a hand in your direction and introduced himself as Connor.

Then Blake. Then Micah. Then Wyatt. Then Trent. All traveling with their team for a tournament that weekend.

Then a beer was held out to you. You declined. A little homemade deer jerky? No, thanks. How ‘bout some Oreos? I’m good on snacks, really. Well, shit, you seem a little high-strung, why don’t you take a hit right here? And Connor pulled his dab pen out from his pocket.

Well.

You hadn’t smoked in a minute. You might’ve decided to take a bite out of Joel’s brownie back in the room, but you hadn’t known how strong it was—or where the fuck he’d gotten it. The pen this stranger was offering you was one that looked similar enough to the kinds you’d seen passed among your friends a hundred times before that you felt comfortable taking one hit, maybe. Two max.

You felt stupid as soon as you’d sucked in every breath, but you ended up taking four hits in total.

You hacked and sputtered and blinked up at Connor, who was grinning big.

“Alright, hardass,” he chuckled, taking back the device.

“Daddy know you smoke?” Wyatt cut in with a sneer.

Daddy?

There was no fucking way Joel looked that old for everyone to think he was your father. You inwardly cringed.

“Y’all been spying on us?”

“Ain’t shit else to do around here.” That was Blake.

You tried to swallow but found your throat much drier than it had been before. And not just from the weed.

“He doesn’t care,” you said, managing a shrug.

It wasn’t entirely false. Joel did give no fucks about you.

“Dude looks like a— a fuckin’ DEA agent or something,” Micah said, amused.

“Like that guy from Narcos,” Trent snickered.

You’d never seen the show and didn’t particularly care to know what law enforcement archetype Joel appeared to embody—in fact, you didn’t want to discuss him at all.

Just as the first fuzzy beads of warmth began to roll into your head, you were already planning your exit strategy. Thank Connor for his selfless assistance and cannabis, bid the group a good night and the best of luck in their upcoming lax tournament, and be done with this shit, ASAP. You were still trying to steady your tongue in the bone-dry cavern that had become your mouth when one of them kicked at a near-empty case of beer at their feet.

“We’re about out.” Micah announced.

Seconds later, Connor was turning to you.

“Wanna…restock in our room?” he asked, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile as he looked down at you.

You crinkled your nose and shook your head. Connor leaned his whole weight against the vending machine between you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, “I think you wanna come.”

“Do I?”

You only entertained the backtalk because your brain was currently swimming in a far-off, pleasant void of contentment and indifference. Every sharp edge dulled in your mind, to an extent, and your body at ease. You didn’t have to be home to anyone, anytime, and Joel was probably halfway plastered at a dive bar down the road. You didn’t move back when Connor stepped forward.

He wasn’t even that close. You could leave whenever you pleased.

“For sure. I think you’d enjoy our shitty beer and even shittier company. We can smoke some more, too.”

The man certainly had a way with words. He muscled in a bit closer.

“You think so?” you hummed.

“I do. I really do.”

“And you’re willing to risk the wrath of my dad if he finds out where I am?” You made it sound like a challenge.

“Wyatt can fight.”

Connor motioned toward his friend, who was mindlessly chomping on deer jerky in his lawn chair off to the side, glossy-eyed and hammered. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, but make sure he’s ready. I can only stay for five.”

Connor seemed wounded as he put a hand over his heart in mock dismay.

“Only five minutes?” he griped, “Why not ten? Or twenty?”

“Six.”

“Fifteen at least.”

You folded your arms over your chest and felt an opaque haze beginning to settle over your brain. It wasn’t quite a high, just a lightness of being that drove tender little streaks up your spine. Like Joel, tickling at your sides while you writhed around in the front seat of his car.

This time you took the beer Connor offered and cracked it open. He seemed pleased—and taken by surprise—to see you down the drink in spite of the overflowing foam.

“Ten,” you returned once you’d swallowed it all.

“Twenty.”

“Honey?”

The last voice didn’t belong to anyone in the group. You turned on your heels and almost coughed up your beer.

It was Joel, of course.

Standing at the threshold of the breezeway like a surly, disconcerted parent, of all things, watching you like he’d just caught you red-handed in the most horrific of acts.

Clutched in one hand was a Burger King takeout bag.

“Daddy. Hi,” you breathed.

Apparently your attempt at casual came across more slurred than anything else, because Joel stepped closer.

‘Let’s go’ was all he said. No accusations, no threats, no outward displays of emotion found anywhere on his face. Just a gruff ‘Let’s go,’ and a free hand reaching for yours.

Instinctively, you recoiled.

“We’re just talking,” you said, gesturing behind you. If you could have seen the uniform looks of discomfort and agita, damn near treading on fear, among them all, you probably wouldn’t have bothered.

“Good. Now you’re leaving,” Joel supplied in a moment.

He was blissfully indifferent. Asserting his will in a space where, less than one hour ago, he couldn’t bear to share a room with you, much less impart a shred of dignity or care to your condition. He had nerve, that was for sure.

“I’m not leaving,” you said, a touch more venom in your voice than you intended.

Joel raised both eyebrows.

“No?”

His expression, directed to you, was infuriating.

“Fuck no,” you answered.

A few of the guys behind you sucked in a breath as if to say, ‘Okaaaaay, time to go!’ but then Joel pressed,

“For someone who wants to be treated like an adult—”

“Adult?” you scoffed, “You treat me plenty like an adult, Joel. Just whenever the designation suits your needs, huh?”

No one moved.

Well, Joel flinched a bit. Then he squeezed your wrist.

Truly, you never failed to underestimate the man’s brute strength when it came to carrying you off at will—but there you were, being yanked behind the big, bad Joel Miller as he hauled you off to who-knows-where. You scowled but didn’t bother to steal a glance behind you at the beer, boys, or vending machine treats you were being forced to abandon. All you could do was stare a hole through Joel’s skull and tug back—largely ineffectually.

“You’re an ass,” you spat, digging your heels into the gravel terrain as he pulled you along.

“You’re a brat,” he fired back.

In a minute, the exterior of Room 102 was coming into view; Joel was practically toting your ass like a knapsack.

“You just abandoned me back here, Miller. You— you don’t get to pretend like you give a fuck now.”

“I was getting you Burger King, for Christ’s sake.”

Joel was fiddling with the lock now. Simultaneously juggling your hand, the paper bag, and a set of keys that didn’t seem keen on cooperating, he huffed, disgruntled.

“Even got you those—” Joel grunted, thrusting his shoulder into the door, “—fuckin’ curly fries you wanted.”

Your jaw slackened. That was supposed to make it okay?

“Joel, FUCK your curly fries!” you cried, “Are you seriously still trying to play good guy right now?”

“If that’s what you—”

“No. You don’t get to tonguefuck your friend’s daughter and buy her a goddamn Double Whopper and act like it’s all good. Sure as hell don’t get to dictate who I talk to.”

Like he had before, Joel cringed to hear your crude language—particularly as it related to what he had done to you but didn’t seem capable of owning up to just yet. You couldn’t bear another second of that look.

“Fuck this. I’m sleeping in the car,” you grumbled.

You thrashed your arm out of Joel’s hold and started off in the other direction. Picked up your pace when you heard the bag of fast food drop to the ground and Joel trotting after you. Calling your name.

Even at your most brisk, you knew you couldn’t outstrip those big, beefy legs of his. He gained on you in seconds.

So you took off running.

Joel gripped his side, thinking, ‘Aw, hell’ before breaking out in a sprint just as fast.

You were pissed at how far he’d parked this time around. You caught sight of the old Bronco perched a ways away from your room and almost opted to change course on the spot, to the front office—maybe dive behind the counter and beg that poor old woman to give you another place to stay—but you kept at it, anyway. For once, you were glad to have had Joel beat by so many years, because the man’s endurance was, evidently, shit.

“Hey, s— stop!” Joel shouted after you.

Fat chance, Miller.

You closed in on the car. Joel rarely ever locked it.

Your hand secured a grip on the door and jerked it back. It swung right open.

Just as Joel was pulling up the rear, you had the driver’s side slammed shut and your palm laid flat on the door lock knob—shoving the little black lever down each time Joel tried to unlock the car.

It was a fruitless endeavor, you knew; you couldn’t keep the man out all night so long as he had the car keys in his hands. You could piss him off some more, though.

“You won the fucking game, just take the bed!” you said, straining against the door with your weight pressed hard on that knob. Joel was furiously working to get it open.

“I mean it, Joel, I-I don’t wanna sleep in there wi— shit.”

You leapt back in your seat as Joel flung the door wide open. You scrambled across the center console, made a desperate grasp at the passenger door to climb out the other side, but your ankle was taken between two hands. Just as you tried to slink out on the opposite end of the vehicle, Joel pulled you right back in. Flipped the center console up so you were sprawled flat across the bucket seat at the front of his car and pinned underneath him.

Then he pulled you over his lap.

Not into it—nestled on top of his crotch, with your ass pointing up in the air. Joel’s big ass Carhartt jacket was bunching up around your torso, collar crowding you up to the chin. Your twisted just far enough to meet his gaze.

“What do you want from me?” Joel demanded, “What?”

You stared up at him, poring over your options in the span of what seemed like two milliseconds. Wondering, silently, why he wasn’t touching you anywhere.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel,” you replied at length.

Seated between driver’s side and shotgun, Joel looked perfectly unperturbed, raking a hand through his silver-flecked hair and letting his gaze trail up to the ceiling, as if considering something of grave importance.

“And what after that?” he asked, still staring at the roof.

Before you could reply, though, he was forging ahead,

“What happens when I can’t even look your dad in the eye knowin’ I’ve been balls deep in his little girl, and every fuckin’ time I’m over at your house or you’re over at mine, I’ll be thinkin’— no, dreamin’ of what it was like to have you wrapped around my cock, screamin’ my name and takin’ it so deep inside you like I know ya want it?”

You paused a beat. Had to bat your eyes a couple times to rid your head of those filthy thoughts he’d planted.

“We could, uh— fuck…then…too,” you ventured quietly.

Joel grinned at the spot he was watching, humorless.

“That easy, huh?” he mumbled.

Again, before you could speak, Joel continued,

“I can’t even cum with you on my mind,” he said, and for a split second you thought that might mean he wasn’t attracted to you in that way, when he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, “I’ve tried beating off twice today—in the bathroom and as soon as I left earlier—and I can’t…even get close with you here. You fuck with my head.”

You fuck with my head.

Without meaning to, your hips stirred over his, and Joel audibly groaned. At last, he dropped a palm to your ass and gave it a taut smack, and your whole lower half reverberated with the sensation—and a welt of pleasure.

“You think I want it to be like this?” Joel said, voice strained, fingers kneading over the flesh he’d just struck, “Think I enjoy havin’ the biggest set’a fuckin’ blue balls known to man whenever I’m around ya, honey?”

You winced when you were spanked again, letting out a whimper into the seat’s charcoal-colored upholstery.

“I can help with that,” you hissed, feeling him massage the spot once more. You arched your back into his touch.

“No. You’d make it worse,” Joel shook his head, “Once I get a feel inside this sweet cunt I’ll never wanna stop.”

At the soft rumble of his words, you felt yourself growing aroused. Noticeably so. Your skin broke out in broad swaths of gooseflesh every place he touched, and in the wake of those hands grew a pool of dull warmth. Sticky, slick, soak-straight-through-your-shorts sort of warmth.

Joel’s hand hovered about an inch from the source.

“We’d get bored eventually. It’d be fine,” you said, words crawling off of your parched tongue with some difficulty now. That faint, heady feeling from before had become a high, finally, and it seemed every sense you possessed was ablaze with desire. You were barely able to breathe, much less speak, but there you went, rambling anyway,

“Soon enough, you’ll get over the thrill of screwing me, and I’ll find a nice, polite, age-appropriate boy to spend the rest of my life having nice, polite sex with, and we can both pretend like this never happened. Deal?”

It was quite possibly the dumbest offer you’d ever made.

Joel slotted his hand between your legs to rub against that dampened patch of fabric. You almost jumped.

“Yeah? Just fuck around and forget about it?” Joel spoke, and you truly couldn’t tell if it was a sneer or real sincerity, as your eyes were squeezing shut, “Is that all you want from me, sugar?”

His fingers slipped beneath your shorts and made swift, easy contact with your heat. You buried your face in the seat and tried to muffle the sounds that were clawing their way out of your chest, while your hips tilted up.

“Please, Joel,” you whimpered.

By now, your head was spinning, in a daze, that you almost didn’t notice him tug your shorts down your legs. Or take them off at your ankles. You did get a sense of when he was breaching your folds—taking two, meaty fingers and trailing them up the slick glaze of your cunt.

“Doesn’t seem like this pussy wants ‘nice and polite’ to me,” Joel murmured, eyes gradually fastening to that lovely, exposed spot pointed up to him. He wet his lips, “Needs somethin’ else, doesn’t she, darlin’?”

Speaking of your pussy in third-person wasn’t something you ever thought could be hot, but coming from Joel? While his fingers traced up and down the seal of your entrance, tips circling your tight, hot, throbbing hole? Arousing didn’t even begin to cover it.

You pushed your ass back, and Joel chuckled above you.

“Wanna fuck daddy’s fingers? Is that it?” he taunted.

No, no, no—you wanted his cock buried inside you. But now you just needed reprieve from that ache, and your senses were practically on the fritz trying to get it.

Your hips rocked back and forth over his fingers—sliding the two digits in and out of your cunt with each motion—and, as much as Joel would’ve liked to make you beg and wait a little, your desperate pleas as you fucked his hand were more than enough to satiate him. He worked his free arm under your body and pinched hard on one nipple, eliciting a soft moan of ‘Joel’ underneath him.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, watching you rut your hips for more friction, “That’s it, baby, fuck daddy’s fingers. Use my hand to make yourself feel good— that’s my girl.”

At the last, you probably could’ve cum on the spot, and Joel could tell by the way you clenched around him. He nudged a third finger between your plush, sensitive walls and heard your moans take on an even higher pitch.

“Hurts,” you whimpered, with no real indication of pain. You just felt stretched out, stuffed, and aching again. The only ‘hurt’ was not having even more of him in you, “Need more of you daddy, please. It hurts.”

Joel wanted to see you cum on his fingers. He really did. But when you got down to begging and pleading for his cock like that, the man’s whole heartbeat throbbed in his jeans, and he simply didn’t possess the resolve to refuse.

He hoisted you upright in his lap so you were straddling his hips. The fabric of his jacket hung loose off your frame and both of your arms as you latched around him.

“Are you high?” Joel asked, voice evening out all of a sudden to pin you with a serious look.

“Yeah.”

“How high?”

“I can consent, Joel.” Your thighs tightened around his sides, and your hips had already begun to stir.

“Not just can consent—do consent. Do you want this?” Joel’s hands moved from the small of your back to cup your face. You gave him a squished-together pout.

“Yes, I want this,” you managed through pinched cheeks. When Joel released you, you lowered your own hands to the buckle of his belt.

It felt foreign and familiar at once—this age-old ritual of fumbling for each other’s clothes and wrestling to get them off, like your bodies might catch fire if you didn’t act fast enough. Joel was a tad more graceful as he shrugged his jacket off of you, peeled your tank top off, and helped you maneuver your bare limbs around him. You, on the other hand, felt half-feral and every bit the wide-eyed novice while you stripped his body garment by garment and wordlessly told him just leave the jeans, I can’t wait another fucking second. Joel bit back a grin and had to steady you above him, feeling his cock twitch against his tummy but still slowing down enough to remind you, shhh, shhh, honey, it ain’t goin’ nowhere.

You had a tough time remembering that as you rubbed your wet centre over his shaft. Feeling so good you feared the feeling might escape any second, you whined.

“I know, baby, I know,” Joel cooed as your head fell in the crook of his neck, “Still hurtin’ somethin’ awful, hm?”

The tip of his cock just barely grazed over your clit and you buried your face even deeper, nodding furiously; Joel leaned forward to grab some item out of the glove compartment behind you and braced your body to him.

He tore something with his teeth. You craned your neck just slightly.

“Don’t laugh,” Joel muttered, voice momentarily stifled by bright, metallic wrapping.

“Is that…” You straightened up enough to cock a brow at him. Joel’s tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek.

“Cobwebs and all.”

Beneath your gaze was the flimsiest, dust-ridden, damn-near vintage condom—a decade old, at least.

“You buy that before or after the Great Depression?” you teased.

“Shut up.” Joel was already working it onto his dick.

“So Prohibition-coded.”

“I can find something to shove in that mouth, y’know.”

You were having too much fun at the old man’s expense, blissfully unaware that Joel was about one Gen X joke away from making you suck three of his arousal-soaked fingers. When you opened your mouth to speak—to try another wisecrack or else question the integrity of this ancient relic of a rubber—Joel crashed his lips against yours and made you mute with his tongue instead.

At the same time, he slowly eased himself inside you.

Your mouth fell open when you sank down on his length, fully, but no sound came out. You just gripped Joel’s shoulders and peered into his face as if to say, ‘Shit.’

No way any man was ever meant to feel this good.

No shot your walls were fitting his cock like a glove.

Joel soaked in your gaping, wordless stare with a nod.

“Good?”

“Great.”

You’d give all eight inches of the man a goddamn standing ovation if your legs weren’t feeling like jelly. Joel let out a small grunt when you clenched around him.

“Nice and…easy,” he said, as much to himself as to you. He pinched your hip in one gigantic hand and held you there, “Let ya take a second and adjust, alright, darlin’?”

“But Joel—” you whined, already trying to slide back up.

His grip kept you impaled on his dick, anchored in place. With the other hand, he brought a thumb to your clit.

“Just feel me, sweet pea,” Joel said, slow and languid as molasses while he touched you, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

You couldn’t be sure if the man was a sadist or the world’s biggest fan of cockwarming—or just polite.

The bare, slightly-less-sexy truth was that Joel hadn’t done this in a very, very long time. Even the sex he’d had, close to a year ago, was something more of a flashbang than a bona fide carnal experience; he’d just bent a perfect stranger over the bathroom sink and drilled her. This was a fever dream, a first to end all firsts, and at present, Joel felt himself toeing a razor-thin line between self-restraint and bliss by just your presence alone.

In short, he didn’t want to fuck it up by busting too soon.

When you rolled your hips and squeezed your eyes shut above him, well, Joel almost fell into a panic.

Think of golf. Differential equations. The weather in Kuwait. Anything to get his mind off of how tight your pussy was holding him in, how lithe your body worked to grind above him while he sat there, so helpless and—

“Big,” you whined, stretched to the fullest you’d ever been. Unable to bounce up and down like you wanted but still squirming for more friction, “So big, daddy.”

Hockey. Geometry. Wind patterns around the Maldives. He held you even tighter, but your motions were growing desperate. You had to start moving.

“Joel, please,” you begged him.

“Baby, I’m—”

About to cum. I am two seconds away from cumming.

“Need you now, need you so—” your voice broke off in a moan as you sank your nails into his muscly shoulders, “So bad, daddy, please, please, please—”

On the seat beside you both, your phone lit up, buzzing:

Dad 💙

Fuck.

FUCK.

Your eyes locked on Joel’s in a shared look of panic and horror, and for once, your bodies stopped, perfectly still.

You knew your dad too well. Just as much as Joel did.

Your father wasn’t the type to call late at night unless something was up. And he wouldn’t stop calling until someone picked up.

“Should we…?” That whisper came from you.

Joel was frozen in fear, eyes now glued to the screen.

“Just…give it a sec,” he breathed, “Might be nothing.”

But his tone couldn’t mask the dread behind his words. He gritted his teeth and watched the phone ring.

It stopped.

Then started again.

The pair of you clung to one other in the old Ford’s bucket seat like your dad might veritably hear the two of you having sex from 1,300 miles away if you moved.

It stopped once more.

The screen stayed black.

You let out a small sigh and felt your eyes start to close.

Then the trill of a ringtone under Joel’s ass started up the second they’d fluttered shut, and suddenly your gaze was wide, and frightened, and freaking the fuck out when you realized that your dad was trying to reach Joel.

“Answer,” you hissed.

“What?!” The whites of Joel’s eyes were bigger now than you’d ever seen them.

“He’ll know something’s up! Just—” you slipped your hand under Joel’s rear, completely devoid of any sexual insinuation this time, and yanked his old iPhone 6 out of his pants, “Answer it. Now. Be cool.”

Joel’s expression was still paralyzed with terror, but he brought the ringing phone to his ear anyway. Gingerly tapped ‘answer’ once you’d smacked him on the bicep.

“He-e-y man.”

You were so fucking dead.

Your face hovered mere inches away, and you could almost hear the warble of your father’s voice on the line.

“Great,” Joel answered, stilted as a puppet with someone’s hand up its ass, “So good. How are you?”

A beat.

“She’s good, she’s good.”

For a moment, Joel’s gaze flitted to the spot where your bodies were still connected and you saw a flash of desire, followed by guilt, then his head tip back to close his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

“In the bathroom…Uh-huh…Phone must be dead…”

“No, she’s been a trooper—just fine…”

“Somewhere just shy’a Bedford, I think…”

You listened to Joel drone on and clench his jaw, and every now and then you’d feel a squelch in that tiny space between you two when one of you moved, and it occurred to you then that it probably was not in your best interest to stay seated on his dick while he talked. You shifted your legs underneath yourself to get up.

When you started to slide up Joel’s shaft—the first time you’d ever really moved, mind you—you felt a knot in your tummy start to tighten. The friction was to die for.

You sank back down and heard a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it.

At the same time, Joel groaned. Then stopped himself. Then coughed—profusely.

“Sorry, just got a little—” Suddenly, a fiery set of eyes were searing holes in your head, angry as they were desperate, “—tickle in my throat is all.”

You ignored the strained Southern drawl and the eyes that looked ready to put a bullet between your own, and you rocked your hips again. The sensation was just too good. Your body practically acted of its own accord, and suddenly you were bouncing up and down in Joel’s lap.

The man beneath you looked enraged. Aroused.

Ready to wring your neck and maybe spit in your mouth.

“World’s movin’ too. damn. fast,” Joel seethed, trying to communicate to you semi-covertly while you rode his cock, “She’s one hell of a— firecracker, man, I’ll tell ya.”

You heard your dad’s laughter on the other end. While the sound subsided to chuckles, Joel grabbed your neck. He covered the mouthpiece for a second, then, in a murmur,

“This is not a fucking game.”

He squeezed your throat so tight you probably could’ve lost all circulation going to your head, but you smiled.

In spite of the hot, glowing embers of pleasure taking shape at the pit of your stomach and the coil that kept twisting and swelling inside, you grinned down at him. Then you mouthed, softly, ‘Yes, it is,’ and you rocked your hips against him even harder.

Joel drew in a breath through his teeth and watched you ride him with bleary, half-hooded eyes—keeping one hand on your carotid as the other hand cradled the phone to his ear. The man was transfixed.

By the pinch of just one set of fingers, you knew you were done for. A dwindling supply of oxygen, combined with your high and the hundreds of nerve-endings being brushed by Joel’s cock every other moment, you were spiraling toward release and didn’t know how to stop it.

When Joel pursed his lips and lifted his hips to start fucking up into you, you had to let go. Couldn’t hold on. You grabbed hold of his forearm, still hovering across your throat, and you moaned as the bliss washed over you. You slid your needy lower half back and forth, squeezed that tanned, tough arm practically bulging with veins above you, and you came around Joel’s cock. You whimpered his name, again and again, feeling him stroke your walls and fuck you through a euphoric high.

The next thing you felt was the seat cushion behind you—and the shift of Joel’s body weight pinning you down.

His cock hadn’t slipped an inch when he flipped you over; his grip was still secure on the phone.

The only thing that had changed was that look: malicious and vindictive with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Joel felt you pulse around him, starting to come down from your high, and he just decided to fuck you even harder.

“Shouldn’t be much longer now…” Joel hummed aloud, lowering a hand to your throbbing clit and muttering a soft ‘Uh-huh’ to your father while you clawed at his wrist.

“Joel,” you choked.

Now the feeling was too much. You were still so wet, raw, and sensitive that the pad of his thumb almost drew a shriek from your chest when he moved his finger in circles. You heard them chat about football. Joel shared a short, strained laugh with the man on the other end and pretended not to hear your whines as he continued to rail you senseless in the front seat of his car.

With the diversion of the phone call keeping his own climax at bay, Joel was free to fuck you as rough as he pleased—and couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again.

“Please, daddy, please,” you beseeched him, tears springing to your eyes as Joel’s thrusts kept shaking you.

He just shook his head and smiled as if to say, ‘Hold still.’

“It’ll be fine,” he said, “Mahomes is next-level. Best they can do is keep their heads down and take it, y’know?”

Your own soft, aching hole was taking the beating of a lifetime, and somehow, you managed to meet Joel’s gaze with a look that almost struck him as loving. That blissed-out, cockdrunk look of pure debauchery crossing your eyes in a way he hadn’t come to find in ages, if ever, was intoxicating. He felt the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him again, and suddenly he was pumping you faster, drilling you harder, gripping your throat and starting to sense his own climax draw near.

He couldn’t finish off like this.

Not talking shop and Super Bowl to your father—no.

Joel had to do something you might rightly hate him for for the rest of your life, and never forget, or forgive.

He lowered the phone, and right before he did, said,

“She just stepped outta the bathroom, actually. No, yeah, she’s right here. Wanna say hello?”

Your heart skipped a beat and nearly jumped into your throat. You tried to shake your head—fast—and even went so far as to try and dodge the phone when Joel brought it down to your ear, but that motherfucker had a grip like you couldn’t believe and wouldn’t stop stroking inside you or holding you down. You hated that you found Joel’s total dominance and control…kind of hot.

You flashed him the most nasty, bratty, ‘I’ll get you for this, Joel’ look you could muster anyway, and when he pressed the phone to your cheek, you mouthed a few more silent expletives before changing your air entirely:

“Hey, dad!”

Joel knew he was cooked from the second you said hello. Something objectively malevolent inside him got a rush to hear you speak to your dad in such a contrived, high-pitched tone of voice, knowing the unspeakable things he was doing to your body the whole fucking time. He could focus, now, with no need for any strained civilities of his own, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last long. He would not last long.

Might as well make it fun while it lasts.

“He…did,” you hummed, flitting your eyes up to Joel when he brushed your lower lip with his thumb—still holding the phone up for you while he rutted into you, “No, nuh-uh…Mr…Mr. Miller didn’t mind, no sir.”

Shit, the sound of you saying ‘sir’ was something that made Joel’s whole body lurch with pleasure. He made a mental note to have you call him that later and stroked your lip once more.

You tried to turn your face away—telling Joel, wordlessly, that you couldn’t keep up this conversation with your father if you had a thumb in your fucking mouth, but Joel didn’t care. He watched you pause for a moment, let just the tip of his finger press into your tongue, then, battling your better judgment, wrap your lips around the digit almost cautiously and suck. He knew you liked it, too.

He knew it by the way you bobbed your head, hummed, and nodded every time he thrust inside your aching walls and dragged his cock back out. The way your teeth clamped hard on his thumb whenever he grazed a particularly sensitive spot and how your lips held him in like a gag, or some other thing to keep you quiet amidst the moans and the whimpers bubbling up in your chest.

Suddenly, Joel was at your other ear, lips grazing skin and tongue praising your every move.

“My sweet girl.”

“Doin’ such a good job stayin’ quiet.”

“Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t ya, darlin’?”

From that point on, every single one of your father’s words over the phone fell on deaf ears—all you could hear was Joel. All you could feel was Joel. Your lips parted as if starting to speak, but all that would come out were small puffs of air, perfectly in sync with each one of Joel’s thrusts.

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad pressed. A hint of concern rose from his end of the line.

At length, Joel gripped both of your legs and brought them up over his shoulders, and he grinned before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelped as you crushed the phone to your ear, hoping your father couldn’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

The sick, smug fuck currently wedged eight inches deep inside you almost burst out laughing. If you weren’t so perilously close to your fourth orgasm of the night, you would’ve told Joel to take a long walk off a short bridge.

“Just worried about grades a-a-and all,” you stammered.

Joel leaned forward and almost tore a scream out of your chest—his tip was kissing the edge of your cervix now.

“Yes, sir. I will.” You tried your hardest not to whine and almost let out a sigh, “I’ll…ask him about it, for sure.”

As bone-crushingly fun as this all was, Joel was close.

He could feel it in the furthest recesses of his stomach; he was about to blow his load.

So, leveraging his weight to strike just the right angle and pushing his thumb in to stifle your moans, Joel sped up and drew even closer, face-to-face, so he could see your every expression from a hair’s breadth away.

He was so near he could hear your dad’s droning voice. See you struggle to take cock the closer you got to your release. You hadn’t cum in such quick succession…ever, really. All but one of the guys you’d let between your legs before seemed like amateurs compared to Joel, and to be honest, you weren’t sure if you could make it to four.

You popped his thumb out of your mouth and mumbled some ‘Sure, okay’ or other to your dad before casting a pleading look up at Joel. His hips were working up to a ruthless pace.

You covered the mouthpiece.

“I can’t, Joel.”

“Sure you can, sugar.”

“Joel,” you hissed, and tried to grab his wrist, when you felt your stomach start to cave. Every exposed inch of skin gave way to waves of heat, and your toes curled in. Worst of all, Joel was letting out sounds you hadn’t ever heard—short, ragged breaths that broke off in low groans—and it felt as though he were cradling your head. Holding you to him. Your eyes were locked on one another, your mouths practically panting in time, and what parts of you had not yet become commingled with him were practically coated with sweat. And shaking.

Then, in tones that rang like music to your ears:

“Alright, I’ll let ya head to bed, then. G’night, pumpkin.”

Your dad hadn’t even fully hung up the phone before you flung it across the car. Heels dug deep in Joel’s back.

“Cum for daddy,” Joel coaxed, “Cum all over this cock.”

You didn’t need much more instigation than that.

You came. He followed.

And it probably split his eardrum in two having his name screamed so fucking loud, but frankly, Joel hadn’t seen a reason for going deaf that he could’ve enjoyed so much.

Then, he didn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adored his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car.

Until it was in you.

Sticky, sweet dripping inside you.

You pushed Joel hard in the shoulder.

“Did it…”

“What?”

“Joel!”

You flipped your legs down and tapped his abdomen furiously, telling him, pull out, pull out right fucking now, and Joel gently obliged. Dragged his cock three-fourths of the way out when a frail, tattered condom came loose around the head of his cock and almost fell off entirely. That damn prehistoric rubber had broken inside you.

“JOEL!”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I— fuck.”

Joel scrambled to get his cum-drenched cock and what remained of the condom away from your body, but the damage was done. You started throwing on clothes.

“I’m ovulating this week, I am so fucking fucked!”

Joel swallowed, shimmying his boxers and jeans back into place and scoping the front seat for his shirt.

“What’s…ovulating?”

You wanted to tear your hair out at the root.

There was no way this man had survived half a century on earth and didn’t understand the menstrual cycle.

“It means I can get pregnant if we don’t get a Plan B up in this bitch immediately. Let’s GO!”

That part seemed to click. Joel almost fell over himself trying to find his keys, while you slid out of the Bronco.

“Where are you going?!”

“To— to try and get some of this shit out of me first!”

Joel bounded after you, and within the first steps, you were sprinting across the parking lot. Your sweaty, half-naked companion tried—and failed—to slow you down.

“Are you not on birth control?” Joel huffed.

“Are you not capable of buying condoms more than once every fucking decade—or three?” you snapped.

Your strides were growing wider and more frantic by the second. Joel clutched his side and struggled to keep up.

“I’m…sorry,” he grunted, more embarrassed and worn-out than anything at the moment, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t get your cum out of me, daddy.”

Your words couldn’t have gotten any more caustic or merciless—or inopportune—if you tried.

As it was, you were passing by the breezeway where all the bored lacrosse players were still lounging around, cracking cold ones, and craning their necks to see what the fuss outside was all about. The sounds of your feet racing fast on gravel and you and Joel’s raucous, bickering back-and-forth had caught their attention, and shortly, Connor was sticking his head around the corner. His expression—along with all the faces behind him—had twisted with horror. Confusion. A visible look of disgust.

Joel had just slowed down to catch his breath. He doubled over and braced both hands on his knees.

“I’ll fuckin’…duct tape my dick next time I hit it, honey!” he wheezed, barely loud enough for you to hear but perfectly audible to all the terrified guys around him.

Joel turned his head and almost groaned.

Then he was straightening himself back up, starting to retreat from the group who had him pinned with genuinely frightened—and nauseated—looks.

Joel normally wouldn’t care. This time, though, he threw his hands up and thought, fuck it, I’ll clear the air.

Over his shoulder, he grinned, yelling back to the guys:

“I’m not actually her dad!”

All of them stared back. Half-jealous, half-awestruck, Connor stood up, raised his beer, and called after him:

“I SURE FUCKIN’ HOPE YOU’RE NOT!”

[emberdune]

what the fuck is my package doing

[h0neylevi]

tags: fem!reader, spanking, use of 'good girl', praise, fingering, implied overstimulation

w/c: 866

It takes all of ten minutes after you get home from the airport for Levi to have your mind numb with pleasure.

He’s been gone for a week—away for some work conference that sent him halfway across the country. Often, when he’s gone like this, he hardly has time to even call you at the end of each day, and this last week has been no exception.

You missed him, and from the way he all but throws you onto the bed after he’s put his suitcase down, you’d be foolish to think the feeling wasn’t mutual.

You’ve been stripped down to nothing. The set of cute lingerie you’d worn to pick him up lays in a pile with the rest of your clothes, quickly disregarded by Levi in favor of feeling the soft give of your flesh underneath.

Now you’re draped over his lap on your stomach, struggling to string together a single coherent thought as two of Levi’s fingers stretch you open.

He’s still dressed. The creases of his dress shirt remain wrinkle-free despite your wiggling, sleeves folded neatly up to his elbows. His tie is the only thing discarded, the silky fabric now deftly wound around your wrists in a makeshift bind, freeing him from the hassle of your roaming hands.

A week apart and you’re not allowed to touch him. If you could think, you’d call it a punishment worse than torture.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” he coos. “Is this what you thought about while I was gone?”

You open your mouth to reply, but he takes that moment to curl his fingers in just the right way to heat your blood to molten levels. An airy moan slips from your throat instead and gets smothered by the pillow supporting your head.

His other palm comes down on your ass, striking once and then again.

“Answer me.”

Your mouth hangs open without a sound, momentarily caught between delicious pain and pleasure. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” He rewards you by rolling his fingers over your clit, generously coating it in your arousal. “You always make such pretty noises for me. Let me hear them.”

Sparks ignite in your belly, hips rolling to chase the sensation of his fingers, but he pulls away just as your legs begin to shake.

You whine. “Levi–”

He ignores you in favor of watching his fingers slowly sink inside of you again. His eyes practically glow with reverence in the dim lighting. “Look at you, making such a mess.”

Embarrassment burns your face. You’re probably dripping all over his finely-pressed trousers, staining the fabric, but you can’t bring yourself to care about stopping. All you can think about is the growing, aching need in your belly as he starts again.

“Levi, please. I–”

His fingers disappear. Another smack to your ass makes you flinch and squirm.

“I didn’t tell you to speak.” He frowns. “You’re not in any position to be making demands. Were you this fucked out when you forgot to put away the toys?”

You still for a moment, trying to connect the dots. It’s like your brain is attempting to wade through quicksand but slowly, you remember.

There was one rule you both followed when he went away on long work trips: no touching without permission. The one rule that up until last night you’d never broken.

Pleasure ebbs from your limbs, and you breathe a pathetic whine into the dampened fabric of the pillow. You need to move, but you’re at Levi’s mercy like this—bound and unable to do anything without his help.

You feel his free palm caress your hip, right over the sensitive spot he’d spanked just moments prior.

“M’sorry.” Your voice is a labored half-sob, half-gasp, muffled from being pressed against the pillow. “I just missed you.”

It’s a last ditch effort and you know it. Discipline is a language that Levi knows well, and his capacity for self-control sometimes makes your head spin. He already looks barely affected by comparison. The only sign that he’s worked up at all is the subtle feeling of his length against your side, concealed but nonetheless straining beneath layers of fabric. Your hands clench into loose fists in the binds. To have that level of restraint aimed at you sends an excited thrill up your spine.

You almost expect him to discipline you for speaking out of turn again, but instead you feel his hand move from your thigh to grant you a few slow swipes over your aching clit. Just enough to keep you on the edge, eager for more.

“I know you’re sorry,” he says softly. The shift in his tone makes your shoulders relax, but his fingers swiftly move, pushing deep inside of you at a pace that has your toes curling.

“Since you want to come so bad, let’s see how many you can give me.” His fingers begin to pump and curl inside of you more quickly, hitting the spot that makes your legs quake and turn to jelly. Your back arches, finally giving him full access to the clear and punctuated moan that’s ripped from your throat. “Let’s start with one for every day I was gone, hm?”

[hiraethwa]

ִ ۫ ּ ֗ – lost and found.

pairing: miya osamu x reader a/n: my ushijima fic procrastination/trying to get the creative juices flowing attempt word count: 700

miya osamu has few regrets in life. one of them was breaking things off with you when things got rough. that was a few years ago back in high school when he was immature and too caught up with trying not to be left behind by atsumu. 

his last words to you then were “i don’t have time for us right now.” he thought he had time on his side after volleyball, after high school, at the next stage of life, but he realizes now that it was childish of him to think that he would have more time in the future. 

with onigiri miya being a success in the city far away from your childhood home of hyogo, he is kept busy with the day to day operations of the shop. not that it would have mattered, since your family moved away from hyogo when he returned from nationals, and he has not seen or heard from you since. 

the eleven digits are still stored under your name in his phone, transferred from his old flip phone he used in high school, even though he had it memorized by heart. he had stared at the numbers for an unhealthy amount of time, unable to bring himself to dial it. 

it wouldn’t have mattered, he told himself, what was the point of barging into your life again when he was the one who ended things? no, he did not have the right to do so. heck, you could have moved out of the country for all he knows.

except he does know, he just can’t remember it. it was a few days before winter break. he vaguely recalls you calling and telling him something about moving in hysteria when he was busy with practice or some other thing that felt insignificant now that he thought about it, but he had brushed you off and told you that he will talk to you later about it. 

and then like the worst boyfriend in the world, he forgot all about it. in fact, he had gone and broken up with you before the team left for tokyo like the inconsiderate asshole he is.

if only he could recall where you told him your family was moving to. 

he taps into his call log, staring at the most recent entry dated last night. atsumu had gotten him drunk after yet another amazing win by the msby jackals, and like the lovesick fool he is, osamu had fucking dialed your number when he went to the bathroom. 

the call had gone through, each ring a steady succession after another, instead of the rapid beeps that signaled an out of service number. to his eternal horror, someone had picked up, his muddied brain registering the change when the ring tone he had been listening to stopped. that was enough to snap him out of his drunken daze and press the red button in a hurry.

but that piece of information did nothing to give him any answers. it could have been you, if you were still in japan and kept your old number. it could have been someone else who is using your number now. and he still didn’t know where you were. 

osamu groans, resting his head against the counter and closing his eyes briefly. it was late at night near closing time, and the person he was waiting for to show up at such an hour would be his horrible twin brother who was running late.

the ring from the doorbell has him perking his head up. finally. “i’ve been waiting ages for ya, ya scrub–” but the insults die in the back of his throat as he realizes it is not atsumu staring back at him with wide eyes.

the customer stands frozen in shock at his words, her form-fitting dress with intricate lace detailing, possibly tailor made, seemingly out of place at his casual establishment. her face is obscured by a mask, and osamu thinks that he may have frightened this poor lady, and is about to blurt out an apology when he meets her eyes. 

he would recognize that pair of eyes anywhere, he’s seen them in his dreams so many times he lost count since that fateful day in hyogo.

“y/n” he breathes.

looking for more? browse the library

[hwabang]

Break Up + Make Up - Yang Jungwon

Summary: You ended your relationship with Jungwon because HYBE told you to. After a lot of mutual heartbreak and some dangerous situations, you realize this was all a big stupid fucking misunderstanding

Genre: angst + fluff ending

Warnings: fem!reader, idol!reader x idol!jungwon, '03 reader, established relationship, breakup, cursing, arguing, dieting, fainting, starvation, mention of weight, bad eating habits, slight mentions of poor mental health, hospital, mention of sasaeng/crazy engenes lol, reader breaks jungwon's heart but temporarily!, one slight mention of reader not being korean, exes to lovers

Author’s Note: feeling angsty lol. i kinda wanna make "break up + make up" a series for the enhypen members i write for, let me know if you'd be interested!

Word Count: ~ 6k (oop)

NOTICE: (the names used for side characters are fake names, with the exception of the enhypen members. the fake names don't represent any real life characters.)

(gif not mine!)

You and Jungwon have been dating for 4 months now, but you two have been in love with each other for a while. The only thing that had stopped you from dating earlier is the fact that Jungwon's a year younger than you, and neither of you wanted to talk about the feelings until he became an adult in Korea.

Unfortunately, last month some pictures of you and Jungwon on a date were leaked, but your companies decided to go ahead and confirm the relationship since both ENHYPEN and your group were doing quite well right now. You were expecting the hate from crazy fans, but you weren't expecting as much support as you guys were getting. It was an overwhelming amount of love and you two couldn't be more happier.

People who didn't know you and Jungwon would say you two are moving too fast, but the ones who know you well know that you two have been head over heels in love with each other for so long. Sure, your relationship is very established and you two are really serious for a 4 month couple, but who cares? You and Jungwon are taking it at the pace that feels right, and since you two are fully committed to each other and love each other immensely, nothing wrong with moving "too fast".

Currently you were tidying up your dorm with the rest of your members. Today marks the first couple of days you guys get off, and some cleaning of the dorm was much needed right now so that was everyone's first task. After this you were prepared to spend the next 4 off days with your precious Wonnie.

"Hey Y/N," your bandmate Mijeong called out, walking back into the dorm. "Come here?"

You turned the sink off and patted your hands dry then walked into the living room. "Yeah what's up?"

"I just went to pick up our mail and you have a letter from HYBE."

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. "HYBE? And it's addressed to me?"

"Yeah, look." She handed the letter to me while sorting through everything else.

"Huh that's weird.. I'll open it later. Anything else for me?"

"Uh.. no more letters, but the front desk said you have a package from (your/country) downstairs; maybe your parents sent you something."

You nodded relaying the information. "Great, I'll go pick it up later. Thanks Mijeong-ah."

You went back to washing and drying the dishes; your last task for today. Once you were done, you took the letter up to your room. Your roommate was doing the laundry so you had a couple minutes to yourself. You sat on your bed and sighed, opening the letter not thinking much of it. Oh how wrong you were.

"Y/N-ssi,

"Hello, this is HYBE Corporation.

We are sending you this letter to inform you that you must end your relationship with our artist, ENHYPEN's Jungwon, as soon as possible.

The relationship being out in the public has decreased ENHYPEN's popularity and put our artists' safety at risk. Furthermore, Jungwon-ssi seems to be losing his focus a lot more after your relationship started. You both have worked very hard to get where you are; we wouldn't want either of your careers being sabotaged because of this relationship.

We kindly request that you end your relationship with him without letting him know that we have asked you to do so. Once you have done so and Jungwon-ssi lets us know, HYBE will personally put out a statement confirming your breakup to the public.

We understand that this might be tough for you to do so. It is solely for the sake of both your group's and ENHYPEN's careers that you all worked so hard for. Idols don't date for this reason; it's quite hard to maintain personal and professional lives. If you start to receive backlash or dangerous threats for the breakup, HYBE Corporation will provide you and your members with top notch security.

Thank you for understanding and for your cooperation.

Best regards,

HYBE Corporation & ENHYPEN Team"

Hot tears were streaming down your face. HYBE wants you to breakup with Jungwon without letting him know they're the reason for the breakup? HYBE were the ones who coerced your company into agreeing to confirm the relationship!

So many things were going through your mind.

You didn't wanna do this; Jungwon would NEVER wanna do this.

However...

You knew ENHYPEN were in danger because of this. Not only did all the past idol-dating horror stories scare you, but you knew haters were sending trucks to HYBE asking them to remove Jungwon from the group.

You can't let Jungwon's dream be sacrificed.

So many things were going through your mind.

But you knew what had to be done.

-

After a text to Jungwon asking him if you could go over to his dorm tonight, you asked the rest of his members to give you and Jungwon the dorm to yourselves for about 30 minutes.

"Oh?" Heeseung exclaimed and you could practically hear the smirk on his face. "Y'all really can't get enough of each other huh?"

You couldn't even crack a fake smile at his joke so you just shook your head, as if he could see it. "No it's not that.. we have something to talk about."

Heeseung abruptly stopped laughing and it felt as if his entire demeanor changed"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"N-no not really.. I just really need to talk to him."

"Something happened. Talk to me Y/N-yah. What's wrong?"

You couldn't do anything but shake your head. "'Im fine Oppa, really. There's just a conversation Jungwon and I need to have that's why I need the dorm for a bit. Just half an hour.. please?" Without hesitation he agreed to get the members out of the dorm for a bit.

8pm finally came around and you rang the doorbell. The door was swung open and you were greeted by a beaming cheeky smile on his face. "Hi sweetie!"

Immediately he wrapped his arms around your waist and you wrapped yours around his neck, hugging him tightly, knowing this would be the last one.

"H-hey Jungwon-ah.."

He moved to the side as you let yourself in, taking your shoes off and walking into the living room behind him. He looked so excited to see you here.. little did he know you were about to break his fragile heart.

"You know," he started. "I was fully prepared for our mini vacation to start tomorrow, but I'm so happy you came over tonight! Now we have even more time together!"

You gave him a sad smile. "Yeah about that.. that's what we need to talk about."

Still his smile didn't fully fade, he only tilted his head a little. "What happened? Sudden schedule? Plans with your other friends? We can still make a little time for each other baby, no worries."

"No it's not that.. you might wanna sit down."

Now Jungwon was worried, worrying that something really bad happened to you as you hadn't smiled once since you walked through the door. He sat down cautiously right next to you. "What happened princess?" he cooed and held your chin gently. "Who's got my baby so sad, hmm?"

His caring nature brought tears to your eyes but you quickly wiped them away. "Jungwon.. I.. I want to break up."

Time felt like it stopped for Jungwon. It felt as if everything stopped; his breath, his heart, even the trees that were blowing in the breezy wind out his window felt like they were frozen in place.

".. What are you saying baby?" he said slightly chuckling. "If this is one of your pranks again–"

"It's not. I'm serious.. I want to break up."

Jungwon's facial expression was unreadable. Was he angry? Sad? Disappointed? You don't know. But whatever it was, it was far from him being okay with this.

"Okay," Jungwon sighed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked back into your eyes. "Let's talk this through. What happened that made you feel like you need to take such a drastic decision?"

Of course you had thought about what your reason was gonna be. You knew Jungwon well enough to know that whatever the reason was, he'd opt to working it out with you versus losing you. There was only one reason that would hurt him enough, reassure him enough that the breakup wasn't a haste decision; a reason that would make him not want to be near you at all which is what needed to happen.

"..I fell out of love with you."

If the feeling of time stopping was what Jungwon felt when you sprung the break up on him, he didn't know what the hell this feeling was now. "Y-you what?? You.. don't love me?"

You were never a good liar; your trembling voice usually gave away your true intentions. How could you blatantly lie to your lover? Just by simply nodding of course.

"Say something Y/N-yah." Jungwon's jaw slightly clenched, you could tell he was holding back an enormous amount of emotions. "Y-you can't just.. you can't just walk in here after 4 happy months and tell me you don't love me anymore!"

Jungwon's shouting never scared you. He couldn't yell at you the way he yelled at his members. You were too precious for him. "W-what do you want me to say, Jungwon.. f-feelings change."

"At least look at me while you break my heart."

You finally looked up at him to see him in a state that clearly meant he's about to break down; hands balled into fists, tears welled up in his beautiful boba eyes, jaw clenched yet somehow a slight pout formed on his lips, said lips quavering with sobs ready to come out.

"I'm looking at you.. d-do you believe me now, huh?" Your voice got a little loud at the end; you were getting defensive. You just wanted this to end. Not the relationship, but this conversation. You didn't want him to fight for you, ask you anymore questions. You just wanted to go home and cry your heart out.

Jungwon shook his head, the tears starting to fall and the quaver of his lips getting rougher. "N-no. I can't believe it. Not when we both waited so long! S-so long to finally be together.. Not when you tell me and show me every single day that you love me, and that you'll always be here for me. N-not when we've talked about a future together! Y/N, fuck, why are you doing this?!"

All his tears rushed out as soon as yours did. You whimpered, not being able to hold the sobs nor the intense eye contact with him. Your eyes went back to your lap where your fingers were playing with the hem of your shirt. "I-it's the truth Jungwon.. Like I said.. feelings change..."

"And yours changed in a couple hours?" he challenged as he stood up from the couch. "You were texting me about our plans tomorrow, telling me you can't wait to spend your days off with the love of your life!"

"I-I know what I said Yang Jungwon!" you screamed, also getting up from your seat. "You don't have to remind me."

His eyes widened. "Y-Yang Jungwon? When did you.. when do you ever call me by my full name?"

"What do you want me to call you, huh? I'm breaking up with you for God's sake!"

"So why are you crying, baby?! You're breaking up with me because you don't love me but you can'd do it without crying??" Jungwon stepped closer to you, grabbing one of your hands and intertwining your fingers. "Something's off.. w-what's going?"

You had to amp your acting skills up; you realized Jungwon knew you too well. "Nothing's going on! God, I'm just an emotional person and you know this! Just because I don't love you anymore doesn't mean I'm not gonna miss having a boyfriend! That's why I'm crying Jungwon; because of the memories and the romantic feelings not because of you!"

Jungwon winced, clearly hurt by your harsh words. You wanted to pull him into you, but you knew damn well you couldn't do it.

"What is it? What made you fall out of love with me? Is it th lack of time? The publicity? Are you still hung over about me being a year younger? God, it's not even that much.. I've been doing my best to not let you feel it, no?"

"Jungwon, it's none of that. I'm just.. n-not into you anymore."

"Bullshit," he spat. "I don't believe it for a second. I know you're fucking into me."

You shook your head, knowing this was going nowhere. Jungwon would fight for your relationship no matter what and you knew it damn well. "W-whatever Jungwon.. that's the only reason I came here. D-don't contact me anymore after this." You turned to walk towards the door. You had to get out of here before you cave in.

You didn't get far, Jungwon immediately grabbing your wrist and turning you towards him. His tears were coming in faster, dribbling down his neck into his pajama shirt. "Is someone making you do this?"

Jackpot.

You tried not to show it in your face; trying to use what you learned from the one and only acting session your company made you do. "What are you on about now."

"Is someone making you do this," he repeated. "Are you being threatened? Were you influenced?.. No fucking way.. tell me HYBE didn't do this..."

You pulled your hand out of his group. "How easy do you think I am, that I'll get influenced by someone else to breakup with you?"

Very, apparently.

"Get it through your head Yang Jungwon; I don't want to be with you anymore."

You turned around again to leave but were immediately pulled into a firm chest. Jungwon wrapped his arms around you as he weeped into your shoulder, his anger now turning into complete sadness.

"Y-Y/N-yah.." he whimpered. "Please.. d-don't leave me.. you were the missing piece in my life that I needed to be 100% happy! You're my lifeline.. h-how can I survive without my lifeline..."

He turned you around to face him, his hands on your shoulders. Your heart was already broken, but the pieces broke into even smaller, microscopic ones once you saw the kicked puppy look on his face with the biggest pout and the biggest teardrops. "I-it's okay if you don't love me anymore. I-I'll do my best to make you fall in love with me again. I'll do whatever I need to, just d-don't go..."

You shouldn't change yourself for anyone Jungwon-ah, you wanted to say.

You wanted to say a lot, mainly how this is all a lie; how you still love him.

But you couldn't.

You shouldn't.

You shoved his hands off of you. "Just let me go Goddammit!"

He was taken aback by your actions and voice volume. "Y/Y/N.."

You pinched the bride of your nose, letting out a sigh that sounded annoyed. "Yang Jungwon, do you hear me? We're. Done. I don't want to be with you anymore." You went to put your shoes on as he followed you with slumped shoulders, a mantra of your name falling from his lips. "Delete my number. This is goodbye Yang Jungwon."

"Y/N!"

You ran out of his dorm and straight into the van that was waiting for you. As the door closed, you let all the tears and sobs out. Your heart cried loudly, you screamed into your hands as you couldn't control your tears.

A tissue box was handed to you. "Here," a soft voice said. You took the tissue boxes without looking up at your manager. "You alright?"

You shook your head. "I can't be Leo... I-I love him so much! I hated telling him that I don't!"

Leo gave you a sad smile, sighing as he started the engine up. "I don't understand why HYBE would do this.. maybe Jungwon really was losing focus.. whatever it is, you'll be okay in the end Y/N."

You got back to the dorms and all of your members sensed something horribly wrong. They followed you to yours and Haydee's shared bedroom and forced the story out of you.

Mijeong smacked the desk she was sitting at out of anger. "Why would HYBE do that?! It makes no sense!"

Your youngest member Jaein was sitting right next to you, letting you cuddle into her as she rubbed your back. "It really doesn't... HYBE can't be that ruthless, right?"

You shrugged, sitting up from your position and looking straight at Haydee. "I know you're good friends with Jake. He'll definitely contact you. He can't know anything about HYBE contacting me, please."

Your prediction turned out right as an hour later, Haydee's phone rang with Jake's name displaying on the bright screen. She went downstairs onto the street to answer the call, not wanting to discuss it near you as it's a fresh wound. "Yeah Jake."

"Yoi~ what the hell is going on?"

'I don't know," Haydee sighed. "How much have you heard from Jungwon?"

"Well, he wouldn't talk at first. When we came back to the dorm he was on the floor in the living room, in like a fetus position and crying a fuck ton. It took some coaxing from Jay for him to tell us that Y/N came over and broke up with him because she doesn't love him anymore.. but that's not the full truth, is it Dee?"

Haydee was conflicted, but girl code first; she knew it well. "Look, I'm not gonna add more fuel to the burning fire.. It's not my place to discuss this with you but whatever Y/N did, she did for a reason."

"She still loves him though right? Just tell me that much so I can comfort him."

"I was told specifically not to tell you jack shit bro."

Jake groaned. "Fine fine.. whatever you or Y/N or anyone says I refuse to believe it. All of us refuse to believe it; no way Y/N's out of love with Jungwon. They're a match made in heaven!"

"And I agree Jake, but we can't really do much besides be there for them."

"Nah you're right.. Uh, Jungwon wanted me to tell you one thing though. It's actually a favor."

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Don't let Y/N forget to take care of herself. We both know.. actually everyone knows, how bad this girl is at taking care of herself. So he just wanted me to tell you and the rest of the girls to take extra care of her."

"Yeah Jake, tell Jungwon and the rest of the guys we'll be keeping an eye out on her. Nothing will get passed us."

And that's where Haydee was wrong. It had been about 15 days since the breakup and so much had changed.

HYBE announced the breakup the same day and since then, the hate towards Jungwon had stopped completely. HYBE stated the reason for the breakup to be conflicting schedules, so neither party would get hate.

Another thing that changed though, was you. You had done a weight check-in today and your managers were shocked to see you lost 10 lbs in two weeks.

"I'm fine Leo," you repeated for the fifth time as he walked behind you into the convenience store. "Stop babying me, you're a year older than me."

"This is literally my job Y/N. Let me do my job."

You rolled your eyes and went to the snack section, picking up a pack of saltine crackers. "Then let me do mine. I'm an idol, I have to watch my weight."

Leo watched as you put your lunch down at the register– if he could even call it a lunch. A pack of saltine crackers, a cup of ice, a zero coke, and a bottle of water. He eyed you as he got the company card out of his wallet. "Shouldn't you grab like, I don't know, an actual lunch item?"

"This is enough," you protested. "I'm not even that hungry. Now stop before I start coming to the convenience store without you or any protection."

With a defeated sigh, Leo payed for your stuff and then grabbed the bag, walking out with you as you two headed back to the company. "How's this enough when all you had for breakfast was coffee? The whole point of me bringing you here was for you to get actual food Y/N.. we're all worried about you. "

"Don't be, I feel fine! I've been so energized since I stopped eating all the food I was eating before."

"That's your fatigue talking. You're gonna end up crashing, I'm telling you."

"I hear you and your worries, but I'm fine. Trust me." And with that, Leo let it go.

Big mistake.

The week after that was the Waterbomb Korea Festival. Because your group was performing, two months prior to the event Jungwon got tickets for all of ENHYPEN so they could come and support you guys. Jungwon was gonna return the tickets, not having the courage to face you, but all of the members insisted that it'd be quite fun to go and enjoy the festival as audience members and not artists for once. So they dragged Jungwon with them.

Jungwon had been so depressed. The past two weeks were a repeat of the same thing; he'd wake up, eat breakfast, go to the company, come back home, shower, eat dinner, talk to fans on We Verse, and then cry looking at videos and pictures he took of you till he'd fall asleep. His members didn't know what to do. They all discussed it and all 6 of them agreed that something about the breakup felt off; no way you fell out of love with Jungwon. 

Jay had even come to see you at your company once. You were pretty close with Jay, him slowly becoming sort of a therapist for you once you two got close as he was quite well versed in helping you through your mental health. He was thinking that maybe you let the voices in your head get to you; maybe you felt you were not enough for Jungwon (which is so far from the truth) hence you broke up with him. But you kept giving Jay the same reason you gave Jungwon until he gave up and left after giving you some sweet words of encouragement. After that Jake, Heeseung, even Jungwon's sister had messaged you but you left all of their notifications untouched.

Jungwon had snagged pretty good seats; not too far from the stage and smack in the middle so they could get a good view of everything. They enjoyed all the acts and performances, having a genuinely good time. All the members were relieved to see Jungwon displaying a sincere smile on his face for the first time in 3 weeks.

Then your group came out and Jungwon felt his heart break all over again. Yes, partly because the breakup and your relationship were fresh wounds. But the main reason he was having a hard time holding it together was because of the way you looked.

Although everything about your outfit, hair, and makeup was perfect that day, Jungwon couldn't help but notice you lost an immense amount of weight. You usually didn't wear revealing clothing as it was out of your comfort zone, but for a festival like Waterbomb, your stylist had to put you in a halter crop top and really short shorts. So Jungwon could see a lot of your skin, and you looked so beautiful.. yet so weak.

And everyone noticed it too. "Is it just me," Niki started, "or does Y/N Noona look sick?"

Jungwon nodded and sighed disappointedly. "Yeah, she looks like she lost a lot of weight–"

"No not that Hyung," Niki interrupted. "I mean, yeah she does look like she lost too much weight but. I mean actually sick. Her face is pale and she's not performing like she usually does... like.. she's gonna faint..."

Jungwon's head snapped to you at the younger's words, now really watching you. And Niki was right, you looked sickly. You were a great performer, so it was definitely odd for you to not be fully doing the moves. Jungwon also noticed you kept looking down a lot, and then noticed you were scrunching your eyes tightly closed while doing so. Were you really going to faint??

Jungwon's question didn't go unanswered for much longer as your group's 3rd song was coming to an end. Jaein had just started singing the very ending of the song when you plopped onto the stage floor, making her scream in the middle of singing. The music stopped, the crowd went from singing and laughing to gasping and murmuring concernedly. 

Jake's eyes widened. "What just happened?! Did Y/N just faint?!"

"I-I think so.." Heeseung responded.

The members (and everyone in the crowd) watched as staff rushed to you, gently picking you up and taking you back stage. Jungwon watched everything happen, completely frozen until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see one of your manager's Leo standing there with a concerned look, completely out of breath. 

"Hey man," Leo greeted. "We're gonna take Y/N to the hospital, the ambulance is on the way... D-do you wanna go with her?"

Jungwon frantically nodded. "Y-yeah Hyung, please." He said goodbye to his members and then followed Leo to where you are. They had you laid on the couch with your members surrounding you; some fanning you, some just watching you to see if you'd wake up, and Haydee was walking around looking stressed as she called your family.

Jungwon slowly made his way towards you. Your members nodded and made some room for him to kneel down in front of your unconscious figure. He caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers, trying to hold his tears back the best he could. "Wh-what did you do my baby.." he whimpered to himself.

"Jungwon," the eldest of your group called out to him.

He looked up to see her standing there with your backpack in her hand. "FeiFei Noona, what is it?"

"The ambulance is almost here, our managers arranged a space for us to change her into her regular clothes; these are pretty uncomfortable. Do you want to come with me to help change her?"

"Of course Noona, anything for her." He got up and carefully picked you up bridal style as he followed FeiFei to the empty dressing room. Jungwon couldn't help but notice that you had packed one of his shirts in your bag.

By the time you were dressed the ambulance came and you were put on a stretcher and taken in. Haydee, Leo, and your main manager went with you, along with Jungwon. The rest of your members were so distraught they knew they couldn't perform so they went home.

Once you were admitted to the hospital everyone was just sitting in the waiting room, waiting for any news on you. 

"Any update?" Jake asked as he called Haydee.

"No," she sighed. "The doctor and nurses have been in there with her for almost an hour.. no one has said anything."

"How's Jungwon?"

Haydee looked over at Jungwon, turning her back to him and walking a bit further away so he couldn't hear. "Not good. He's been crying and sobbing. Nothing we say is helping, although Leo is trying hard. I'll call you once we hear anything."

Not too long after, a nurse came out to the waiting room. "Are you all here for Y/N-ssi?" Everyone stood up nodding. "We just transferred her into a room. The doctor is there waiting, you all can follow me."

They walked in to the room you were in and Jungwon gasped. Your face gained some color back but you were hooked up to IVs and the sight made Jungwon wince.

The doctor greeted the four in the room with you. "Ms. Y/N is fine now," he started. "She was heavily malnourished and dehydrated. I checked her charts, and it seems she lost a dangerous amount of weight in the past month. What have her eating habits been like recently?"

And for once Jungwon couldn't answer.. he had no idea what you'd been up to the past three weeks so Leo answered. "Honestly she hasn't really been eating much.. We all try to force her but she doesn't listen. I don't know how she is at home.."

Haydee shook her head. "It's the same thing at home. She drinks juice and then goes about her day. We've gotten into so many arguments with her about this but like our manager said, she doesn't really listen."

Jungwon teared up again hearing this information and looked up to the doctor with broken eyes. "W-when will she wake up?"

"Hopefully soon," the doctor said. "We're administering saline, medicines, and some nutritional vitamins to her through IV so she should wake up soon. I'll leave you all with her for some time."

"Haydee," your main manager called out. "We gotta get you back to the dorm.. I'm sorry but you guys still have to continue with your schedules and you have a fan meet tomorrow morning."

Haydee nodded defeated. "Okay.. let's go then."

Your main manager nodded then turned to Leo. "I've already talked to ENHYPEN's manager; Jungwon is allowed to stay as long as he'd like. You stay until she wakes up, and when Jungwon-ssi wants to go home take him. Call me if she wakes up."

Leo nodded as Haydee and his boss left the room. "Yes Hyung." Once they were gone he came up to Jungwon who was now sat by your bed, playing with the hand that wasn't hooked to machines. He put an encouraging hand on Jungwon's shoulder. "You okay?"

He sniffled and nodded. "I just.. I don't know what to feel.. I-I'm so mad at her but m-myself too..."

"Yeah I get it man.. I know your manager gave the okay for you to stay here as long as you want but my advice? Don't stay too long. Maybe it's selfish of me to say it but I don't want HYBE coming at Y/N again."

Jungwon slowly turned his head to look at Leo with disbelief written all over his face. "What do you mean Hyung.. what do you mean HYBE will come for her again."

Leo sighed, realizing he fucked up. "She'll kill me for telling you, but here." Leo took his phone out and showed Jungwon a picture of the letter HYBE sent you.

The more Jungwon read it the more he seethed with anger. He stood up abruptly. "What? How could HYBE do this?!"

Leo shrugged. "We were confused too, since HYBE were the ones who wanted to confirm your relationship in the first place. Don't be mad at Y/N; understand she did this to save your career."

"Why would I be mad at her?" he shook his head and turned to look at your unconscious figure. He caressed your cheek as a pout formed on his lips. "My baby.. I knew you still loved me.. but you put yourself through so much just for me.." He kissed your forehead before handing Leo his phone back. "I'll be back Hyung.. I've got a phone call to make. Send me that picture please."

Jungwon stepped out of the room to call his manager, accusing him of ruining his relationship but to his surprise, he was also shocked to hear the real reason why you broke up with him. Jungwon then sent the picture to his manager who immediately contacted his higher-ups at HYBE. "I'll call you back Jungwon-ah," he said before hanging up.

Jungwon paced around in front of the hospital room, biting his lips as a way to keep his anger at bay. HYBE did this without telling his manager, without telling him, and for what? And out of nowhere? None of it made sense. As soon as his manager called back Jungwon immediately picked up. "Hyung what did you find out."

"Jungwon.. that letter wasn't sent by HYBE."

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What? What do you mean? The address, the logo, it's even signed by HYBE!"

"Jungwon look closely at the picture.. the 'H' in the logo is tilted."

Jungwon took the phone off his ear to zoom in on the picture and sure enough, his manager was right. He put the phone back to his ear. "Hyung, I'm so confused. You're right but what does this mean?"

"Someone sent that letter to Y/N pretending to be HYBE to sabotage your relationship"

Jungwon's eyes widened. "What? Who would do such a thing?"

"My guess is a crazy fan? Sasaeng? I'm not sure but HYBE is working on it as we speak. We'll get to the bottom of this. You stay with Y/N and her manager and do not leave the hospital alone. We don't know if anyone is trying to hurt you or Y/N."

Immediately Jungwon went back to your hospital room, relaying this new information to Leo who was equally shocked. The two couldn't do anything about it so they just sat around your hospital room waiting for you to wake up. Jungwon in the mean time was updating his members and his sister about what he had just found out.

Another three hours later, you had slowly opened your eyes. You were quite confused as you looked around to see you were in a hospital room, with machines hooked to you. In the car corner of the room you saw Leo and Jungwon sitting on the couch scrolling through their phones. You didn't know what was going on, so you mustered all the strength you had to call out Jungwon's name hoarsely.

Immediately he looked up and practically chucked his phone on the couch before sprinting over to you. "Y-Y/N! You're awake!" His face lit up with joy and relief as he sat down next to you, taking your free hand and kissing it. "Thank God!"

Leo walked over to you and smiled."How you doing kiddo?"

"I'm fine.. what happened? Weren't we performing today?"

Leo nodded. "You were yeah. Until you fainted on stage."

Your eyes widened. "W-what?! I fainted?"

"The doctor said you were heavily malnourished and dehydrated. I told you right? That you'd end up crashing? You didn't listen now look where we are." Leo shook his head in disappointment before ruffling your hair. "Glad you're awake though. I'm gonna go find the doctor so you guys can have some alone time.. you two really need to talk."

After Leo left you hesitantly looked at Jungwon. "Jungwon.."

He gave you a sad smile as he caressed your hand. "I'm glad you're awake."

You sighed. "I'm sorry Jungwon."

"For which part? The part where you didn't take care of yourself? Or the part where you lied to me and broke up with me because of HYBE?"

You widened your eyes. "H-how did you–"

"What were you thinking princess? Why would you tell me you don't love me? Did you want me to start hating you?"

You slowly nodded. "I-I did what I had to do Jungwon... your life was in risk, your members lives were at risk; your careers were at risk! You worked so hard to get here, I couldn't be selfish and take that from you."

"But you were selfish! You took yourself away from me!" he exclaimed. Jungwon wiped his tears before continuing. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I-I was told not to.."

Jungwon sighed, coming closer to you and he caressed your cheek. "Baby.. Leo Hyung showed me the letter so I contacted my manager who knew nothing of it. Then he talked to HYBE and.. they said they didn't send it."

Your heart stopped. "What? What do you mean?"

"So I spoke to my manager a little earlier.. one of my sasaengs sent that letter to you impersonating HYBE."

"Are you serious?!" you almost yelled. "I ended our relationship because of a sasaeng?!"

Jungwon sadly nodded. "Yeah baby.. But HYBE found her and she's having charges pressed against her for this whole mess. We don't know how she found your address so she's got that against her too."

You sighed taking in all of that information and then you suddenly started crying. You pulled Jungwon to you and wrapped your free arm around him. "I-I'm so sorry Jungwon!"

Your sobs brought tears to his eyes again and he too started crying as he gently hugged you back. "Shh.. it's okay.. you didn't do it on purpose.. you did it to save me and as much as I hate it, I'll always appreciate that baby.." He kissed your forehead before letting go and sitting next to your bed again. "Now let's talk about your health.. why did you do this Y/N-yah.."

You shrugged, not really knowing what to tell him. "I don't really know.. I just, didn't feel lie eating I guess."

He shook his head at your reasoning. "Doesn't matter. Eating is a basic human need.. even if you don't feel like eating you should eat something. And Leo Hyung told me about your "lunches"; you think saltines and juice are enough to fill you up for the day, hmm?" he lightly scolded.

"S-sorry Jungwon-ah.."

He sighed as he felt the tears coming back and he looked at you completely dejected. "Please baby.. promise me you'll never do this again.. Please, just eat.."

You felt so bad for everything you put Jungwon through in the past couple weeks, your heart was breaking more than ever. "Jungwonnie," you cooed. "Come here."

Immediately he caught your drift and stood up to lean over your body and kiss you. You two passionately kissed for a couple seconds before he pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. "Be my girlfriend again Y/N," he sniffed. "Please... be mine forever."

You nodded and pecked his lips shortly. "I love you Jungwon."

Jungwon sighed, missing your voice telling him that. "I know, I know my baby.. and I love you too."

[sugolara]

𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙣 𝙧𝙤𝙖𝙙

ft. K.B x S.T x I.M x fem! reader

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down it's borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's to late for some people. The dead has rose and is looking for revenge. Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, slow burn

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“Great. Another fucking town with those damn things.” Katsuki whispered as he, Shoto, Izuku and F/n crouched beside a rundown car, “Things can never be easy, huh?”

“There doesn’t seem to be too many.” Shoto noted as four stragglers walked slowly, “They’re also slow.”

“Too slow.” F/n said, “Wonder why that is.”

Izuku thought back to his notebook, “They must not be eating, that’s why. It’s probably been weeks since they had eaten anything.”

“Let’s not be the first then.” Katsuki slowly and watched his steps as he moved towards a building with a side door. F/n followed behind along with Izuku then Shoto. As quietly as he could, Katsuki jiggled the doorknob. Izuku peered to the side of the building to see if any rotters were nearby.

Wanting to let out a frustrated cry, Katsuki sighed, “It’s locked.”

“Fantastic.” F/n said with an annoyed look.

Izuku looked back and noticed Shoto was nowhere to be seen, “Where’s Shoto?”

Katsuki and F/n looked around, “He was just here.”

“Wasn’t he behind me?” F/n puzzlingly asked.

As Katsuki was going to the side of the building, he stopped as Shoto appeared and startled him, “Fuck!” he whispered, “What the hell are you doing!? Don’t you know not to sneak up on people!?”

Shoto tilted his head a bit and pointed to the side, “I found an opening. It’s clear.”

“You went by yourself?” Izuku asked, a little concerned.

Shoto shrugged, “It was open.”

F/n walked past them, “Hurry up before someone spots us.”

The three quickly followed behind. Entering what appeared to be a pharmacy, F/n rushed to the medical supplies while Shoto quietly closed the door and blocked it with a small rack. It wouldn’t do much, but the sound of the rack could give them a head start.

Izuku walked off towards F/n. He could tell she wasn’t pleased with the sight of the shelfs being empty. He heard her sigh. “Nothing. Not even a damn bandage or tweezers. Hell, not even condoms. Who the hell is getting laid these days?”

Shaking the image off with a burning face, Izuku glanced down at his feet and kicked an empty box of painkillers, “Maybe someone hid a few items.”

F/n grunted, “Probably, but,” she looked around, “this place looks empty.”

Izuku hummed as he also looked around, “Yeah.”

Hearing Katsuki and Shoto moving where the drug counter is at, F/n and Izuku move towards and see them looking through boxes after finding a flashlight.

“Anything?” Izuku asked.

Shoto shook his head, “Only this light. We found it in one of the boxes.”

“Except this stupid piece of shit doesn’t work.” Katsuki said as the light flickered. He hit the light until it would stop flickering. Unfortunately, it didn’t work as the light completely stopped working.

“Way to go, Katsuki.” Shoto said as they were now in complete darkness.

“Like you can do any better.” Katsuki scoffed and stood up. In complete darkness he accidentally shoved and stepped on F/n’s foot. She hissed quietly, “Yo, watch it!”

“I can’t see shit!” Katsuki quietly yelled back at her.

“Okay, well, maybe don’t move, Kachaan.” Izuku squinted to where he was last standing.

Shoto sighed, “We should call it a night then.”

Although they couldn’t see each other, they nodded and began to lie down. They could hear each other shuffling and trying to get comfortable on the hard floor. Sniffing and rubbing her nose, F/n stared at the ceiling and whispered, “...Goodnight, I guess.”

“Night.” Izuku rolled to his right side, hugging himself from the cold. Shoto murmured back while Katsuki grunted. After a while she could hear soft snoring, and the wind blowing outside. She waited a couple more minutes in case she heard a rotter, but after hearing nothing she soon fell asleep.

When morning arrived, F/n steadily opened her eyes and noticed Shoto wasn’t around. She saw Katsuki near the far corner with a dried bloody couch next to him. She rolled to her side, but stayed still when she saw Izuku’s back closely to her. He must’ve rolled towards her in his sleep. She felt warmth emitting from him.

Standing up, she quietly exited the drug counter so as to not wake up her companions. As she stood in the main store, Shoto entered and stared at her. “You’re awake.”

F/n nodded, “Yeah. Where were you?”

“I went to see if any of the cars had keys.” Shoto said as he closed the door behind, “But I found nothing. Not even gas.”

“Of course.” F/n rolled her eyes, “If it’s not this it’s something else.”

Shoto hummed and walked behind the store, “I did find this though.”

He handed her a red medical bag. She was surprised to see it full of supplies, “Where did you find this?”

Shoto didn’t say anything and only pointed towards the ceiling before going to wake up Izuku. F/n looked up to see one of the ceiling tiles missing. The tiles around had a red arrow pointing towards it. She figured someone must’ve left it for other survivors.

A yawning Izuku caught her attention. Shortly after came a scowling Katsuki. Ignoring the blonde, F/n ushered for Izuku to sit on the dirty chair next to the holiday cards. Sitting down, Izuku eyed the supplies, “It’s not going to hurt badly right?”

“Uh,” F/n eyed Katsuki and Shoto before looking back at Izuku, “Do you want them to hold you down.”

“Oh.” Izuku only said.

“Man up, Deku.” He crossed his arms and leaned on the shelfs, “Sooner or later you’ll be facing a lot worse.”

Shoto rolled his eyes, “Is that supposed to be reassuring.”

Katsuki glared at Shoto. The other two simply ignored them. As F/n pulled out rubbing alcohol and held his hand, she stared at Izuku, “You might want to bite down on something.”

Nodding, Izuku bit down on his clamped shirt and tightly closed his eyes when F/n began to address his wound. He held back from jumping or kicking F/n. He would feel guilty for hurting her. Instead of focusing on the pain, he thought about other things to calm him down.

Like the smell of his mothers cooking, the sight of his friends, the face of his father that he is slowly forgetting and the dreams he had where everything was normal.

Before he knew it, F/n was done. She then pointed to his shirt, “Take it off.”

Doing as told, he removed his dirty shirt and the gauge that was beginning to peel off, “Does it look bad.”

“It looks ugly.” Katsuki quickly added, “What do you want us to say? It looks pretty?”

F/n and Shoto just glared at him. Izuku sweat dropped and looked back at F/n. “It’s fine. Seems to be healing right so that’s good.”

“Wel–” Izuku hissed when F/n began cleaning the wound. He gripped his jeans tightly, “Give me a damn fucking warning next time!”

F/n stammered her movement as this was the first time she’s heard Izuku cuss. Katsuki just smiled smugly while Shoto let out a low whistle, “Well that’s a first.”

Izuku quickly apologized to her, “So-sorry, sorry. That just came out of nowhere.”

F/n slightly shook her head as she began to put a gauge on, “It’s alright. I’d be cussing to, shit hurts.”

While F/n put the supplies away, Izuku tried pulling his shirt on with cheeks of embarrassment. Shoto, however, stopped him, “I found this clothing store a few blocks down.”

“Well what am I supposed to wear?” Izuku asked.

“Go shirtless, duh.” Katsuki rolled his eyes and began to head outside the store. Shoto followed along and F/n shrugged at Izuku. Izuku deadpanned as he watched them leave but quickly followed after.

[dasphinxone]

Attuma has this kinda energy for Okoye and we love to see it. Especially Nakia 😂

For @pilesofpillows

“Everyone is well aware of how my niece betrayed her country when she married you people.”

Okoye’s nostrils flared as she took a step forward to confront her uncle. Except she was swiftly stopped by Attuma whipping out his beefy arm in front her. Behind them, Nakia immediately took note of how he clenched his other fist at his side. She took a step backwards and slightly to the side. All the better to witness the coming spectacle unfolding in the marketplace.

Attuma’s Xhosa had significantly improved in the near year of his marriage. While heavily accented, it rang out extremely clear, his grammar flawless as he loudly declared, “Pardon me?”

Nakia also took in how he took a step forward towards the old man.

M’Kathu’s smile was as vicious as ever as he straightened his shoulders. “It appears you fish folks are deaf as well as blind to the sins of those you mate with.”

Nakia backed away well over a foot.

“How dare you!” Okoye hissed.

She instinctively reached for the obsidian blade she’d taken to carrying in her sheath since Attuma gifted it to her during her courtship. However, he quickly slid his hand to her waist, stopping her. Deliberately turning to face her, he cupped her cheek before gently touching his forehead to hers. Whatever he said in his language sent her relaxing before she tilted her chin upwards to press a quick kiss to the side of his rebreather. Withdrawing, Attuma then placed himself directly in front of her. Her shield to all the ills of the world.

“I recommend,” Attuma leaned down nearly nose to nose with M'Kathu, “That you move along before suffering the consequences of your reckless words.”

Clearly, M’Kathu failed at taking hints. All he did was let out a loud snort before chuckling, “Okoye clearly prefers laying down with sea dogs rather than Wakandans who remember their loyalty to their country."

Nakia’s brows raised, her eyes went wide as she stilled. By now, a small crowd gathered to see what was going on in the usually peaceful marketplace.

“I suggest you keep my wife’s name out of your mouth,” Attuma hissed.

“And what will you do about it, sea scum?”

Attuma bristled, fingers flexing as his voice rose. “Clearly, I am not the one lacking in hearing.”

“So you say-”

“For I very clearly relayed that you need to keep my wife’s name out of your FUCKING MOUTH.”

The crowd around them fell utterly silent. Not even the children made a sound, enraptured by the heretofore unseen wrath of their favorite shark man. Well, save one little girl of roughly five or so.

“Umama, what does Mr. Tuna mean by fuck-ing?“

“Umama, why is that wrinkled old man so mean?”

"Hush child!” M’Kathu glared at the girl with scorn. “You see here?” he waved around with his cane, “He’s corrupted our very own children!”

M’Kathu scowled at the girl, causing her to scurry and hide behind her mother’s legs. Attuma growled, “Leave the youngling out of this. Adissa has done nothing to you.”

“And here you are, Okoye,” M’Kathu spat in disgust, “Opening your legs for this murderous orca, begetting your half breed whelps unto this land? Pitiful-”

Nakia recalled how on that day, no one could explain how M’Kathu ended up nearly drowning in the river with a concussion that rendered him unconscious and in the hospital for damn near a fortnight. No one also seemed to assist him. Nor could anyone recall how he ended up in the river in the first place. After all, how could an old man fly backwards into it a dozen feet behind him? It wasn’t as though Attuma yanked him up by the throat and sent him hurtling through the air hard enough to break a few bones as he hit its surface. Not even the guards patrolling the marketplace recalled seeing anything as they finally pulled him out.  

Funny how no charges of assault or battery were ever pressed. After all, one needed witnesses for such. And not a single one could be found.

[seat-safety-switch]

Back in high school, we’d go by the abandoned mini-putt out on the city limits and look up at the stars. They didn’t have security, or at least that security didn’t care enough to ever come out of their little Chevy Celebrity and chase us off the premises. There was just enough light from the highway that it was eerie, but presented no elevated risk of tripping hazards. We used to talk about how cool it will be soon when we get to go to space, to other worlds.

Now, it is a long, long time later. Some of the kids I used to go to that miniature-scaled golf course with have moved away. In fact, virtually all of them have. I stuck it out, mostly because I wasn’t convinced my car at the time was reliable enough to leave the city in search of better employment. And that loyalty to the city has allowed me to reap the benefits: worse road conditions, harder-to-find parking, and the occasional call from The Mayor Himself to deal with another one of his little crises. Oh yes, I went to high school with him too.

If you’re not involved in municipal politics – maybe you work for a higher office of government, or you’re in what we tauntingly refer to as “the private sector” while reading all your private texts to your spouse out loud and guffawing – then you might find it surprising how many scandals your average politician gets up to in one day. To explain it a little better, allow me to use the board game Monopoly as a metaphor. In this game, you buy up hotels and properties, and then you take money from the other players, when they roll the dice poorly enough to land on those properties. Politics is like that, except you already own all the hotels and properties, and rich people come and give you money to avoid being responsible for their crimes.

Sometimes, journalists get their noses a bit out of joint. Maybe their bosses aren’t happy that the Mayor ignored them at the country club. Perhaps one of the editorial writers is tired of being pilloried as a brainless right-wing hack and has decided to forward one of their covered-up stories to one of their colleagues who isn’t drunk at work at 9 A.M. No matter what incident precipitates it, eventually a scandal hits the media, and then it’s time for damage control.

Most political crimes can be covered up with some deft turn of phrase, a bit of email shredding, and then just not answering the phone for 24 hours, by which point it is hoped that some other politician will have fucked up, and everyone will forget about the things you did. For everything else, there’s a goon like myself, whose utter unemployability is actually an asset in such an underhanded scheme.

My job is to pretend to be an undercover source who is going to talk shit about The Mayor Himself, on the record. Then, I pick up those journalists in my car, and drive very recklessly while trying to give the interview. Eventually, they get too freaked out by my driving and general state of disrepair of my automobiles, and ask meekly to be let out on the side of the road, so they can walk home. It’s basically like threatening their lives, except not. Sort of a shame, really. If any of them could tough it out, we could be best friends, and then I bet they could get a job at City Hall like me.

[fumblingmusings]

You ready for the most niche thing ever but hey this is what we do here you just have to bear with me as I take 3,000 years to get to the point because learning more about the repeal of Britain's Corn Laws in the 19th Century the more it's just a microcosm of that oh so blessed North American Triangle of Britain and America making deals and Canada going hey wait a second dynamic. Poor Mattie playing second fiddle at... nearly every interaction involving these two.

So. Corn. The Corn Laws were passed after the Napoleonic Wars by Britain to keep prices high for domestic producers, of course making lovely profits for landowners, rather than the farmers who actually grew the stuff. It also prioritised colonial grains, so Canada got a boon with its wheat and flour. Nice example of Mercantilism right there.

The problem wassssssss by the 1840s you have the Irish Famine, food prices are too gosh dang high, no-one has disposable income because factory owners are cutting wages wherever they can, and it's so blatantly obvious that this system only profits the top 10% of British Society. There's no shortage of food, it just costs too fucking much. Ireland is starving and the government is sitting on their hands being useless.

A lot of pressure later, Free Trade is favoured over Mercantilism, and the Corn Laws are dropped. Britain can start importing wheat, barley and other cereals form the cheapest supplier: the US. This is not coincidental that the main MP pushing for their repeal - Richard Cobden - was a massive fan of the USA, doing a lot to try and get the two countries to be friendlier to each other. He subscribed to the 'the more economically entangled you are with another country the less likely you are to fight them' which... has its truths.

So... cheap bread good? So that's one thing.

EXCEPT Canada got completely screwed over since they had gotten priority for any externally grown grain for most of the 1840s - causing a bubble in their market. So when the Corn Laws got repealed and it was open season to the cheapest supplier much of Canada's businesses went bankrupt and following series of unfortunate events semi related to corn people burnt Montreal's Parliament and the capital moved to Toronto and it gave yet another push towards Confederation in the 1860s.

So that's a second thing.

It also kind of screwed over the domestic UK farming industry as the age old 'why buy domestic expensive if foreign cheap?' came into play and another wave of emigrants move to the US and the Dominions in the second half of the 19th century because being an agricultural labourer ain't what it used to be (like 100,000 of people with those jobs 'vanish' from the census within ten years, going to the city of abroad). The fact that, compared to 1830 where Britain imported just 2% of its grain, to the 1880s where it was 45%, (65% for wheat)... Uh-oh.

So that's a third thing.

ALTHOUGH, this did have another side affect of ensuring Britain could not get involved in the American Civil War like okay yes the South was very much banking on the need for cotton to push Britain to intercede but psych! The working class people of Lancashire are braver than any Confederate solider and refuse to work with cotton picked by enslaved peoples and would literally rather starve. Especially as, at that point 40% of the wheat people ate came from Northern US states. What's more important? Bread or cotton?

So... that's a fourth thing.

Anyway. Corn.

Sorry I had to make use of an out of date meme.

I'm just fascinated by how domestic actions can still massively impact other nations... Arthur doing the right thing for his people by lowering bread prices indirectly fucks over Matthew but also protects Alfred down the line. Like... urGH! You know?

[fritzmonorail]

Wolverine: Old Man Logan (Comic review)

So, fresh of the high of watching Logan (2017) for the first time I decided I'd also check out the comic where old Logan originates. If your looking for something similar to what you saw in Logan here's where the similarities begin and end.

Logan is a tortured old man

there are very few mutants left

there's a road trip

Western movie vibe.

THATS IT.

After that its all different and it is a TRIP.

Comic spoilers past this point

Okay so this whole thing takes place in an alternate timeline wherein the Marvel villians realized they outnumbered the heroes like twenty to one and decided to put aside there difference and wipe them out all at once. After that the villians decide to carve up America and divide its territory amongst the lead bad guys.

The story starts years after this event where we see the titular old man Logan living the life of of sworn pacifism as a simple farmer with his wife and two kids.

Here's were it starts to get nuts. The Hulk gang are all directly related to The Hulk through the inbred hillbilly children of Bruce Banner and his first cousin She Hulk. together they rule over there tenants with an iron fist from there mighty trailer park. And all of this is certainty a story choice.

After beating the absolute breaks off of Logan for not having this months rent they tell him to pay double next month or they'll kill his whole family. So naturally when a now blind Hawkeye shows up (because of course no one went out of there way to kill Hawkeye) and offers him 500$ to help him move some drugs he accepts.

What ensues is an epic Wolverine Hawkeye cross country road trip. And sure, the country is swarming with subterranean flesh eating mole men, and dinosaurs, and criminals, and The Red Skull is president. But it's not so bad. It's still a road trip. Yay!

So after many exciting events they make there way to the other side of the country and Logan is ready to get paid so he can keep The Hulk's freak kids from eating his family. Its then that Clint decides to tell him that this is not a drug deal at all. He's actually transporting super soldier serum to a resistance cell that plans of starting a new super hero team. A resistance cell that is actually full of undercover operatives performing a sting operation. I found myself wonder how Hawkeye ever trusted a guy who looks like fat Hitler to betray Americas new Nazi government. Then I remembered he was blind and couldn't stop laughing.

After this we finally meet president Red Skull who since the purge has been wearing Captain America's suit because idk he gets off on it or something.

Captain America may be dead in body but his spirit lives rent free in this Nazi fuck's head.

So anyway Logan beats him to death with Captain America's shield.

Which is great. Probably the best part of the comic.

Then he steals a suitcase full of cash and flies back home in Iron Man's suit ready to save his family.

And then he kills the entire Banner family.

except Bruce Jr. He can stay.

This comic is crazy, and while there are interesting parts (The character of Old Man Logan being by far the best aspect) and it was certainly interesting enough to hold my ADHD addled brains attention for the entirety of its 190 something pages I definitely prefer the movie in this case. It's certainly still worth the read. I didn't even go into all the stuff that goes down in this story. Logan's reasons for refusing to use his claws until his family is killed is particularly messed up and heart breaking. There's also a whole subplot with Hawkeye's daughter. I'll definitely be reading other Old Man Logan installments in the future.

[sapphire-weapon]

I don't judge people who don't want to have children. But what's so bad about wanting tohave them ? You said that you're pretty frustrated about it because of your brother.

Is it too personal if I ask why? Is he unhappy about his life?

Also, have you always felt this way about the topic of children or has it changed drastically because of an event in your life?

( sorry for being curious)

you sound like you've yet to have someone close to you have children.

my friends having children is the #1 way i've lost friends. not because of disagreements or anything like that. but because, when someone has kids, that becomes their whole life. the person that you knew, that you were close with? they're gone. the things you used to do with them? won't happen anymore. the way you could rely on them if you needed to? well, you can't, anymore. not really.

obviously this happens on a spectrum. my buddy elizabeth has two kids, and it hasn't become her entire personality. we still go out and do things -- but that's because she has a house husband.

and for some people, having kids is an objectively good thing. when my roommate's brother had his kid, he stopped being a grifter and got his shit together to the point where he was able to buy a house. and he's separated from his babymama, so he can enjoy being a well-adjusted adult now.

but those two are the exception, not the rule.

for the vast majority of people, it literally does become their entire personality. it's all they'll talk about, because it takes over their whole life, because it has to. they don't have time to keep up with their hobbies or play new games or go out with you and friends. there's literally only enough time in their day to go to work and take care of their kid. and that's pretty much it.

when people have kids, most of the time, their growth as a person basically stops; their life, for all intents and purposes, ends. it stops being theirs. their life now belongs to their child. and personally, i find that to be tragic. it feels like a cancer diagnosis. i hear "i'm/my wife is pregnant" and my brain goes "wow, well you're going to be dealing with that for the rest of your life. that fucking sucks."

this is why people who have kids pretty much only have friends who also have kids.

as far as my brother is concerned, i moved to las vegas for my brother. because he needed a roommate. i don't live with him anymore, but my life out here only works because i've been able to rely on him if shit goes bad (like when my car got vandalized). and now i'm losing him.

my family is small. me and my brother are all we have. we have exactly one cousin who lives on the other side of the country, and that's it. our parents are older (my mom is over 70, my dad's been dead for 20 years, and neither of us are close with our stepdad), so we really do need each other. and now i'm losing him.

and my brother is 40. by the time i get him back, he'll be almost 60. and because our family is so small, i'm also the only blood relative within 3000 miles. so his kid is about to become my problem. i didn't sign up for that.

i would not have moved out here if i thought this would happen. but once my brother went past a certain age, i thought for sure that it wouldn't. he's really old to be having kids. but fuck me, i guess.

[bright-and-burning]

for your fic title ask game! gimme something texas hold em related. add some more fuel to this here fire.

(send me a made-up fic title and i'll tell you what i would write to go with it)

ok this has been rotating in my mind w logan/alex for the last day and i kind of went insane bc why is this a thousand words of blather...

i went to a research university in like the north eastern part of the us right but there was this bar named after a city in the south that . ok i just googled it to double check and the home page calls it a "rockin country redneck tavern" lol. there were line dancing lessons in the evening that old people LOVED before the night hit and it became like fully a bar scene, lots of country music, a massive dance floor. so like . picture rustic raw wood walls, a big ass dance floor, a second floor overlooking half the dance floor, and a whoooole lot of college students.

in my mind this is like, college au. logan is a junior, alex is a senior or smthn. alex gets dragged to a frat party by idk lando who then immediately abandons him to play pong w martin... alex is feeling big lost just standing around, downing a solo cup of punch way too fast to feel busy. logan's like 'i got next!!' except his pong partner was oscar who disappeared so he's like fuckkkk and then lando volunteers alex for it, and logan's like sure you can keep up kind of vibes and alex drains the last of his drink and grins before grabbing another. so it's lando and martin vs logan and alex.

and alex is TRASH but it's ok bc martin and lando are mid and logan is good so it like all balances out. so they go back and forth the whole time, and logan and alex are teasing each other sooo bad oh my god. just like annoying to everyone else in the room levels of flirty mocking. (we played with water in the cups bc otherwise the balls get DISGUSTING, so you just move the cup to the side of the table when it's made. but if you get a ball in one of the side cups you have to dance? idk if this is a common rule but we called it dance cup lol. also an important rule: if you dont make a single cup you have to do a naked lap). alex is Struggling he is not making anything. he manages to get it into dance cup like three times tho. somehow it gets down to like lando and martin only need to make one more cup and logan and alex have two to go. alex Has to make it on this round or he's in grave danger of naked lap... idk some like logan giving tips etc. logan goes first on their turn and sinks it perfectly which leaves them 1-1... alex closes his eyes n takes a deep breath... shoots... nails it. he and logan lose their shit lol but martin and lando have a shot at redemption.. and they BOTH MISS! logan and alex W. some other duo is like we got winner but alex is like ok i'm done for the night lol i don't need any more chances at a naked lap. and logan also steps from the table so like lando and martin keep playing.

from there there's two directions i think it could go:

they go to a "rockin country redneck tavern" that night after logan is like oh i've got actual liquor up in my room if you want...

OR this is actually better i guess given how many more ideas i have abt this lol

alex actually leaves not long after the pong game for some reason (that i haven't decided on yet). but then the next weekend he gets dragged out to said country tavern by lando n george who are like dude we have to experience all of the bars here before we graduate and scatter to the winds!!!! (well. lando says that. george spent the last weekend + week frantically studying for an exam so he's like can we PLEASE go out and get shitfaced. PLEASE) anyways. alex doesnt really ask what this place is and they dont tell him so they get there and alex is like what the fuck is this. what.

they get drinks and sit down at a table for a bit, logan gets in w some friends and walks past and is like yoooo and chats w alex for a minute, except george and lando disappear to "get drinks" (with lots of eyebrow wiggles from behind logan). they r flirting obviously. lots of alex being like of Course you're here, all american boy vs logan being like and what country are we in right now, hot stuff? and then a line dance-y song comes on and the announcer is like 'last line dance of the night folks' (bc this bar switches over at abt 10pm to like. pop and rap etc.) and logan is like !!! and alex audibly groans but lets himself get dragged out bc logan is like you gotta have the full [i have not come up w a bar name that wont doxx me but pretend there's one here] experience. they do a silly line dance w alex just clumsily copying logan at first but by the end enjoying it laughing his ass off trying to mess logan up etc.

and then idk maybe the next song switches over as theyre like collapsing into each other dying laughing all breathless... and it's a very grind-y song (to stick w the beyonce theme... a la partition even tho that's not super 'realistic' im just struggling off the top of my head to come up w something better. fill in the blanks w ur imagination if u r smarter than me i guess) and they have this moment of like 'so are we doing this orrrr' and the dance floor gets hella crowded so theyre up on each other anyways so. they are in fact doing this. and then they dance for a While it's hot they get real sweaty lean in to each other's ears from time to time to point out funny things happening around them etc etc.

after a long while of that alex is like i need another drink. and logan is like yeah same so they go to the bar together. and alex buys their drinks. and then they just stand leaning on a wall for a bit, chatting and taking a breather. and logan is like 'cards on the table' and then tells alex he likes him. or is interested in him or whateverrrr and alex is like oh thank god. and then they go home and fuck nasty. basically!

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 148

The Reichenbach Fall

“The Reichenbach Fall”

Plot Description: Moriarty hatches a mad scheme to turn the whole city against Sherlock.

Oh, Jawnnnnnnnn. Glad you went back to therapy over it though

Ok yes. He’s been ungrateful with his other tokens of gratitude, but to humiliate the man by making him wear the deer stalker cap after he’s just brought you interpol’s most wanted? Come on…

It’s an EAR hat, Jawn

The “confirmed bachelor” lines were no accident and just blatant queer baiting.

Jimmmmm!! Jim my love

I…made this scene a VERY large part of my personality for TOO LONG. Now I’m just gonna sit back and enjoy watching this man bring a country to its knees (this part of The Thieving Magpie was my alarm for years, and I maintain that I was correct to have it. It’s way better than what I have now)

Who’s doing it like him, I ask you

Wiggling, squirming. Oh man. I had THIS on playlists too (the song right before Jim’s trial…when I say my WHOLE PERSONALITY…stayin alive was also my ringtone. Would you believe I’m divulging this lore SOBER?? Because I am)

Do not be yourself in this trial, Sherls, omg…

There’s a weird nostalgic pang of “god I wish that was me” when he asks the one courtroom worker (truly, I don’t know her job title) to slip her hand into his pocket. Maybe it’s just the Irish accent. It’s just for gum but he’s so slutty about it

I can’t look at this actress without thinking of her as Jen from the IT Crowd. She can’t be anything else in my mind. She’s forever Jen doing a bit in a costume in different places (this is going to take forever to watch if i keep pausing like this)

The Sheriarty is jumping out right now. You don’t describe someone you know is definitely listening and watching you as “a spider, a spider at the center of a web. A criminal web with a thousand threads, and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances.” YOU ARE LOOKING INTO HIS EYES AT HIS TRIAL AS YOU SAY THAT ABOUT HIM. Were I a consulting criminal, I would be so flattered by that description

Oh god…don’t make the jury hate you. Yeah. Of course he finds it impossible to not show off

This tea scene omgggg when he…is it really breaking into 221b if Sherlock is expecting him??

Every once in a while, I do get the glimpses of how these three shows got lumped together. Jim telling Sherlock he’s boring because he’s on the side of the angels is definitely one of those things

He’s got the best little speeches “no such thing as a private bank account now, they’re all mine. No such thing as secrecy, I OWN secrecy. Nuclear codes? I could blow up nato in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king, and honey, you should seeee meeee in a crown” (did I do an embarrassing amount of that from memory? maybe so)

Oh shit…i forgot the fairy tale stuff Moriarty puts them through…I mean, you gotta fill 90 minutes somehow (I want to sleep so badly…but I’m not even half way done)

I fucking hate how he treats Molly. She deserves better than him and this show. God…she thinks she doesn’t count…fuck. I hate it

Riiiight. He made it seem like the kidnapping was Sherlock’s doing so he could then solve it and he the hero. Just planting the seeds of doubt

Oh the Tale of Sir Boast-a-lot

When villains hijack the airwaves>>>>>> (my taste has not changed a bit in 10 years lmaooooo) I know in this case, he’s actually the cab driver, but he’ll do it later in the series. For now, we’ll just enjoy this nice little story Jim’s telling

You can’t outrun………oh, that was one of the assassins that moved onto baker street

It’s so weird that he’s doing exactly what Jim wants him to do…..

He’s unbelievably precious as Richard Brook. Insisting he’s a children’s storyteller, he’s on tv. It’s on dvd. You do almost forget that he’s a criminal mastermind for a second, except for that one moment when Kitty can’t see him and he has that look on his face as he glances at Sherlock

John and Mycroft have such a good dynamic. No matter if they’re on the same side, on opposing sides…it’s always a good scene when it’s just them

Uuuuggggghhhhhhhh, we’re starting with the roof of St Bart’s scene…will it be as good and heartbreaking as I remember?

Reader, it is. Jim’s lament about how easy it was to beat Sherlock, his best distraction for the monotony of staying alive. Oh, bby. Andrew Scott is such a good actor.

The fact that there was no code, that it was always a few of those threads that Jim made dance to send the world crashing down around them.

(I’m currently living in a world where his character didn’t get absolutely fucked over by the last episode of the series…………….so far(?))

I do like that Jim underestimates the importance of Molly. She still deserves better from everyone around her, but it’s nice that she’ll get SOME recognition in season 3

Pausing because I know what comes next and I don’t want it to…

Can we not just stay like this??? (Not if I want to make it a true full rewatch…)

I STAY a “here’s how [villain] can still live/be alive” girlie. I DO NOT CHANGE LMAO

Oh the phone call… “nobody could be that clever” “you could” I hate everything

Mycroffffffffft. Jawwwwwwwwn.

John at Sherlock’s grave is just…heart wrenching. Always and forever.

This is the best and highest rated episode of this show for GOOD REASON

[what-if-nct]

hiiii today's reminder is i watched all the nct episodes of Jonathon (i do not know his full name but that's all they call him so idk) and fuck i forgot how funny dream are. chenle is my little dude, i want to be the kind of besties with him where we talk once a month but we know everything about everything and have very strong opinions. i wanna get tipsy and gossip with him and talk shit about everyone i know

Hiii, I have only seen clips of them here and there I actually haven't watched any kpop content except Riize in the haunted house there was screaming and running, my attention span has been horrible lately so certain things lose me. I literally just went to search for the episode you're talking about then I got a random thought and began to move my whole room around and i realized i moved my bed far from any outlets so i ordered a 6ft charger instead of moving my bed again. Now I'm listening to country music instead. The only thing I can watch longer than 10 minutes is Trisha Paytas podcast cause she talks fast and jumps all over the place with subjects it's the perfect pace to me. so anything with subtitles, my brain can't do it. That was so long winded for an unnecessary statement but I do know dreamies are just a bunch of ridiculous little guys. Chenle always gets so passionate in conversations especially their silly debates. Him and Jaemin get so enthralled and little stressed. But also they're just silly and goofy. And like a sleepover with them would be so fun. I would also love to see just Wayv and Dream together, I don't think we've seen just all of dream and all of wayv together just fooling around. I want that so much.

Random daily side note, is there something going on with the planets because random men from my past have been popping up there's some I haven't spoken to in months to years!! They've randomly popped up asking if I'm single, what's going on? Can they see me? Like I just ignore it at this point there might be one guy I would hear out if he reached out but all the others ugh. Why are they here. My period is on the horizon so I might just be extra irritated plus I only want to eat cashews so I bought a pound and that is indeed all I've been eating. Also Wonbin finally happened upon me, seeing him screaming for his life made me see him differently. I literally just said not long ago I love pathetic men, If a guy shows a little patheticness, he got me. Like the only guy from my past id give another chance, laid on my chest for an hour while I ran my fingers through his hair and was so sweet and nervous and when he said "dang it" when he missed a turn and was excited he ended up covered in glitter by me, oh come to me you lanky long haired pathetic man. There's another thing that happened but I shouldn't say it in public but he's the only one I'd even consider meeting up with again only him. Just like hyunjin, Wonbin screaming in the haunted house unlocked my feelings for him.

[fattestwriting]

DDLC, but all four of the girls agree to be fat as fuck...

And then Monika gives herself, Yuri, Sayori and Natsuki the ability to devour everything except for the person that she was originally going to have the other three killed for.

(Blob: YES Hyper: YES Futa: YES Vore: YES Bodily Fluids: Yes, to both piss and scat Gas: Definite yes)

(This very likely may be my LONGEST post yet. So, enjoy, or don't! :3)

-----

The cat was out of the bag, and had been for a while. Monika and Sayori both had god powers over their digital world, and now that Yuri and Natsuki knew, they had them too. So, in light of this and in hopes of keeping some kind of order, the girls all agreed to a meeting to set ground rules.

"Okay everyone, welcome to the first annual meeting of the gods council! First order of business, I feel it's necessary to bring up that EVERYONE CAN SEE YOUR LOG FEED, even if you erase it or erase our memories. Even a macro set to erase our memories everytime we remember something doesn't work because it'll eventually short circuit. So yes, Natsuki, we all saw you stuff yourself on planets, Yuri we all saw you shit and piss until your house overflowed followed by you bathing in it, and Sayori, we all saw you nuke the country with your ass blasts."

"I didn't need the console for that one, I could smell it from space."

"My point is, there's no reason to try to break these rules. We'll all know, and we can just delete you. But, don't go around just deleting people either, since there's a short period of time where they still rema-"

*PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT*

"Oh my god I'm so sorry- the meeting has just made me so nervous, and I just...I just..."

Yuri couldn't help but piss herself, a tap load of the yellow fluid streaming down her leg and pooling on the floor.

Meanwhile, Natsuki's eyes went wide and her skirt grew taught.

"Oh Yuri, it's okay! We can-"

"I HAVE A PROPOSAL FOR OUR FIRST ACT!"

Natsuki sprung up from her seat, just as her dick was now sticking straight out, hard large and drippy.

"... I'm listening..."

"We should, before we set all these rules, have one day where we do anything! C'mon, there has to be some fantasies we all wanted that we couldn't do without our God powers, right? C'mon, we can have one day, right?"

Monika was surprised to say the least. She clearly knew Natsuki was turned on by Yuri's little mess, and she couldn't say she disagreed.

"Fine. One day. I hope you all enjoy yourself as much as I plan to."

All four of the girls open their command prompts, and to all of their surprise, they found they all inserted the same commands at the same time.

doVoreConsumption: true

grossLevels: max

bodyElasticity: max

assholeWidth: max

The entire group starred at their command windows, hesitant to move their gaze upwards towards their friends.

"W-well... Y'all have fun with that..."

"... You too..."

And just like that Monika and Sayori disappear to fulfill their fantasies on their own, meanwhile Yuri and Natsuki stay together, with Yuri being too embarrassed to move while Natsuki is too turned on to move.

So, to break the tension, Natsuki decides she knows what to do.

*PPPPLLLLLLLLLLTHTHTHTHTHSHKSHKSHKDHK*

Natsuki began spraying shit out of her ass like a fire hydrant, filling the other side of the room in seconds, meanwhile she begins to piss herself as hard as she can, filling the room to Yuri's knees in the yellow substance. The room smelt downright foul, enough to make any normal person faint, but it was barely the beginning of either of these two's fantasies. Yuri recognized Natsuki's efforts and smiled lightly, before it twisted into a smirk. Without even getting up, and too fast for even a fart to escape her anus, she began spraying fecal matter against the wall to a destructive level. She covered the town in the time it took Natsuki to fill the room, meanwhile Yuri's piss stream barely raised the room's amount by an inch. It was now and only now that the two made eye contact. They were in a mess off, and only one of them could win.

Meanwhile, Sayori and Monika met up at Sayori's house post teleport.

"So, we're looking for a crowd of people, ri-"

But before Monika even had a chance to set up a game plan with her girlfriend, Sayori had gone to town. Literally. She was devouring the town itself. She chomped down mailboxes, cars, street lights, fences, houses, and whatever else she could find without a second thought.

"Oh, I see how it is. We'll see who gets bigger first, Mrs. Object Vore over here, or good ol' fashion human vore!"

Just like that, Monika began. She started with her mouth, slurping folks down one at a time, before realizing it was too inefficient. So, she decided to pull out all the stops. Tit vore, ass vore, navel vore, cock vore, god forbid... Nasal vore! She was going for it all. And with her boosted efficiency, she was chugging down hundreds of people a second. She could run through a crowd of people with her cock out, her belly outstretched, her mouth open and taking a deep breath and catch a good 2 hundred easy, not including the amount of people she caught by simply shitting out everyone else's remains and then eating not only the shit, but the new souls trapped inside. Monika gained on Sayori in only an hour, and from there she'd only grow bigger.

Natsuki and Yuri's battle of the mess had reached a head. Or, more accurately, it had reached their heads. Both girls were effectively drowing in Natsuki's piss and Yuri's shit, and so the only logical thing to do was obviously start eating. They began to consume just enough of their waste so they could breathe, but even that miniscule amount blimped them up considerably quickly. After a couple of minutes they had each grown to the size of the school they had buried in shit and piss, and even when they didn't need to any more, they kept consuming and kept excreting.

*BBBBBBBBBBBWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP*

Monika let loose a monsterous roar of a burp as she finally finished eating the very last organic material on the planet. She had started with people, naturally, but when she realized she could just summon all living things to her, she did it. Now the entire world was significantly browner and covered in Monika's belly. Despite all of this, however, she noticed something. She wasn't winning her competition. Sayori had covered the country long before Monika covered a city, something Monika needed to change. And so, she decided, if she couldn't find any more live victims, she'd just have to guzzle down the thing that makes life! And so she flaunted her country crushing cock and stuck it into the ocean, deep enough that she hit the bottom, and began to slurp. The ocean began to drain at a rapid pace, so rapid that she was completely finished after only a minute. But this didn't last, as just before she could pull out and find something new to eat (or shove up her cock) it began to refill. Not only that, it began to overflow, even with her fastest drinking. Only as it reached up to her breasts did she realize...

"Am I drowning in piss???"

At this realization, as much as she didn't wanna admit it, she had to take a break from drinking so she could use her cock to cum an oceans worth of semen.

Meanwhile, Sayori had finished eating the entirety of human structure, devouring every single thing they ever created that was on the surface of the planet, and even after all of that, she was hungry. She looked across the barren brown landscape and realized...

"Why is that mountain getting bigger..."

Sayori's question answered itself as even her continent sized belly was overcome and drowned in shit, shit which she began guzzling down with our question. Despite her fervent consumption and the many hundreds of billions of tons of it travelling up her cock, she wasn't fast enough. It took no time at all for her to become completely encapsulated in shit, just as Monika became completely drowned in piss. Without knowing, the two both came to the same conclusion as they began to shove the planet up their asses. By the time they butt bumped each other, it split in two, leaving behind a magmic trail between the two anuses as they slurped the rest of the Earth into themselves. The only things not injested were the four planet sized girls and the pile of shit and piss that was now double the size of the world they had just consumed. As the brown and yellow globe began to be overrun by sheets of tan and white (they were growing fast, and having an entire planet come from your body would make anyone orgasm) Sayori and Monika recognized the inevitable, and decided to go elsewhere in the universe to eat, with Monika b-lining it to the sun, which she absorbed in seconds, meanwhile Sayori had topped off the rest of the solar system in an equal time.

Four hours after this whole thing began, Sayori and Monika had eaten every bit of matter and antimatter in the universe, even suckling down black holes before they could eat them. And despite it all, the pile of shit piss cum and blobby girls in the center of (and most other places in) the universe had grown too fast for them. They found themselves scrunched up against the edge of the universe, nearly all of it filled in by their cosmic proportions and the absurd pile of excrement. All of this pressure pressing up against a belly that had just consumed every ball of gas in the universe wasn't a good idea, however, as Monika ripped ass, releasing a shock wave of fart strong enough to atomize every thing in the universe besides the 4 girls. Despite this, however, it didn't stay long. In less than a millisecond her efforts were proven for not, as the boundaries of the universe were slammed with even more waste then had filled it earlier, with Yuri and Natsuki releasing more then ever. And finally, at this last push, the boundaries broke. And then the multiversal boundaries. But, as they could feel the shit piss and cum hit the edge of the next boundry of reality, nothing happened. Nothing gave way. So they began to eat, all of them. All four girls ate and ate and after they consumed every single piece of non-human material in the omniverse and filled it edge to edge with zero room in between them, they decided there was only one logicak course of action. They all began spewing shit into one another, which ever hole of their friends their ass happened to line up with. All four of them could feel themselves growing denser, tighter, fuller, but not any bigger. The edges weren't budging an inch. It was only when they finally reached maximum density, finally too big for any shit or piss to enter any crevice of any of them. This was it. They reached maximum capacity of their game world. They were stuck like this...

-----

You finally got home from a long day at work, and decided to settle down with some video games. You sit yourself down at your computer and turn it on, listening as the fans whirr to life and the screen flickers on. Once you type in your password, the desktop loads, only for you to find an icon you've never seen before adorning your apps.

"Hm. DDFC? Sounds a lot like DDLC... Did a Steam friend gift me a sequel I never heard of or something?"

Confused but excited, you double click the file, opening it, only for you to start hearing cracks. It doesn't take long to realize where it's coming from when your computer starts oozing a pale...liquid? No, couldn't be, it was too solid. It squished, like adipose. It takes a minute before the dam finally breaks, and you get crushed to death by whatever escaped your computer.

------

The girls finally felt some movement, after so long. Their bodies, or rather Yuri's body, was finally accepting the shit calories, as her flab oozed out of a new crack in the fabric of the omniverse. It didn't take long before the sheer pressure of the girls' bodies shattered the boundry entirely, finally giving them some space to breath, and more importantly, grow. As the four of them finally got to see their new surroundings, they noticed something.

"THMPHS SHYSH UERTSH!"

Monika realized she was unintelligible, so she mentally put what she was thinking into the console.

This is Earth! The real Earth!

The one PC is from!

But how? Aren't we just computer code?

I guess not anymore!

Yea! Don't ever think it! Just enjoy the ride!

They all took Sayori's words to heart, especially Monika, as she stopped shitting for just a second to release a fart fitting of a girl who just broke through four barriers of reality, shredding every piece of matter and antimatter in the universe, including the planet they were smothering and the people running in terror from them, to nothing, allowing them to continue growing in peace. Although, this didn't last long, as after only a few minutes of shit guzzling they bashed into the edge of the true universe. Unusually, however, it didn't last as long as the others. The sheer force of their growth lead to them bashing through the barrier almost instantly, and as they would find out in less than 5 minutes when they hit the multiversal border, it would be instantaneous from now on. And so, they kept going, guzzling faster, shitting harder.

So, we just hit the 24 hour mark. Should we reset?

I don't even know if we can... We broke out of our simulated world.

And even if we could, would we want to?

No, not really. And plus, we're gods now! Like, for real gods! I don't wanna give that up...

And so they didn't. They kept going, forever and ever, until the only layer of reality left was their layers of fat in a truly infinitely large void with no end, not even a theoretical one.

...

Guys?

I felt it to.

What was that?

I think... I think we might be bigger than all of existence itself...

...

Wanna do it again?

[swisselytyson]

Oh laaawd these people

I've been on the anti-religion choo choo for about a decade consistently. No falls off the wagon out of fear back to the one true loving God who will smite me for all eternity in a lake of fire if I don't stroke his ego and talk about Him all the time to everyone I meet. Today, has been another entry in the annals of "you people are hideous". As a a healthcare minion there are some demographics of my patient population that I struggle with caring for and I'll be honest - people who exhibit violence toward others especially those of us tasked with helping them stay alive and well, perpetrators of sexual crimes, and probably anyone involved in systematic genocides. I mean, I'll take care of them and do the best job that I possibly can because that speaks to who I am NOT who they are. It's in spite of who they are and what they may have done. It still makes me gag internally, but I won't show it either.

I do get discouraged and frustrated with the people that can't move forward because they don't give a shit to take care of themselves and just expect me and other staff to do it for them for potentially YEARS. However, I digress, because I wanted to share something that happened because of the warm fuzzy accepting Christian religion.

My coworker had some not very interesting, appealing or appropriate things to say about a patient who is gay and HIV+. I went from 0 to 10 in about the time it takes to say "Did you hear what XYZ said about Patient ZYX?" and I said I did not hear that. ZYX had a LOT of health issues and was also suffering from some serious brain fade due to those issues. I would be completely confused as fuck and overwhelmed if I was in ZYX position. I wasn't even frustrated by ZYX lack of knowledge and understanding. I was gutted at his suffering and I wanted to do something about it and fix it. It broke my heart ZYX got to the health status they were at because we're supposedly a first world country and have first world problems so what the fuck is with all this preventable sequelae? Meanwhile, this born again twit is waxing theologic about this patient's partner being the same sex and what virus they have.

Her hair from the 1980s looking like some Duggar bullshit so I guess it makes sense her reaction to a health issue is also from that decade. She believes if she isn't servicing her man that he will leave. The patient has a virus that untreated could take their life but their partner is by their side and doing the best they can to provide care. The partner drives the wheelchair and helps them stand, carries their heavy bags of supplies and didn't act irritated or distanced from the person. The coworker's husband told her to wash dishes with cold water because he didn't want to spend money for a plumber to repair the hot water line in their kitchen. She finally got her way by holding her pussy hostage before her hysterectomy date which he knew was going to sideline him from hittin it for at least 10 weeks. MANS GOT THAT SINK FIXED SO QUICK. She said she "just asked him" and "he said yes". Bitch.... okay. She also the one that drops abominable farts on coworkers that smell like a fresh dog turd sizzling on hot pavement in summer time. You know who didn't drop an SBD on me, that poor patient who is fighting for his damn life.

So anyway, I hope she has the rest of the week she deserves at the very least. I'm glad she has the peace and assurance of her final resting place and she's so balls deep in that fantasy that she needs to feel superior shitting on other people without knowing anything except 2 damn pieces of information - gay and HIV+. Makes me nauseous just having to be polite and work place courteous to someone like that.