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#i can't believe that at this point i'm made to feel bad for being an introvert
star-sim · 2 days
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how you hurt him ☆ ot7
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☆ non-idol! ot7 enhypen x fem! reader ☆ summary: all the ways that you hurt him (ft. song lyrics) ☆ genre: angst ☆ warning(s): toxic relationship, toxic! reader, mentions of cheating, this is practice for an english project so please bear with me, most of this is very figurative/abstract ☆ word count: 2.9k total ☆ aka enhypen boys as sad love songs, it’s like 1am i will edit later 😭
reblogs and feedback are appreciated!
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heeseung ☆
"why would you ever kiss me? i'm not even half as pretty" — heather, conan gray
was there something wrong with heeseung? what if he wasn't good enough for you? did you think he was ugly? disgusting? annoying? needy?
at the beginning of your relationship, you made it clear to heeseung that you weren't good with words.
"don't worry about it," heeseung had told you. "i'm not good either."
he thought you meant that you found it hard to say "i love you."
what you meant was that you were indeed good with words, just bad at saying nice things to him.
at first he thought he was being ridiculous, a prisoner of his own mind.
he knew you loved him— how could you possibly not?
but if you loved him, why did you say such nasty things to him?
"god, heeseung, you're so stupid."
"i can't believe i'm dating someone like you."
"i'm disgusted with you."
he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.
what had he done to make you repulsed by him? was he being sensitive?
he hated himself for all of it.
he hated the creeping feelings of jealousy that would suffocate him like a noose to a prisoner whenever he saw you talk to another man. did you like him more than heeseung? what if you wanted to leave him?
he hated how he craved what little kind words you could give him. it was so rare for you to compliment and speak to him gently, so when you did, heeseung was drunk on it.
he hated how insecure he got.
he hated how his mind was a gallow of its own.
he hated how afraid he was.
"you're so pretty," you whispered into his ear.
heeseung's stomach did flips. did you really mean it? was he as pretty as all the other men you entertained yourself with? was that why you kissed him and not them?
did this mean that you really loved him?
heeseung felt something tighten around his neck. not in that suffocating way that made him claw at his skin until he bled as he stared in the mirror asking himself what could be changed, but in the way that made him feel warm all over.
he’d wait at the gallows like a convicted prisoner, he’d stand there proud, ready to say his last words. he’d keep his hands behind his back, he’d admire the brass noose that would be his eternal necklace.
because for heeseung, to be with you, and to love you, was to be helpless.
to love you was to wait like a dog in the cold.
to love you was to eat your every word like it was his last meal.
to love you was to be your prisoner waiting for you to execute him.
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jay ☆
"pretend that we are more than friends, then of course I'll let you break my heart again" — let you break my heart again, laufey
it's not your fault, jay tells himself. it's not your fault that you can't love him.
but at what point does it become your fault?
you knew that he loved you. he'd told you multiple times, shown you a billion other times. anyone with eyes could tell that he was head over heels in love with you. everyone knew.
especially you— you who rejected him time and time again, laughing that he was just a friend to you.
but here you were, pressing yourself up against him, looking at him with lidded eyes and licking your lips like you wanted to eat him. you held his hand against your chest, whispering a soft "good night." jay knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, not with you so close to him, not with the ache in his chest.
it's not your fault that he loves you, jay thought. but it is your fault that you lead him on, that you pretend to kiss him, that you snuggle up next to him knowing that he'd lay down his life for you.
did you enjoy torturing him like this?
what pleasure did you take in constantly making him think that he had a chance with you?
was this how it was going to be forever?
were you always going to keep him waiting like this, just because you knew that he'd stay no matter what?
jay swallowed the lump in his throat.
he couldn't continue living like this, having you play with his feeling like this.
"jay..." you mumbled, reaching out for him. jay was pulled out of his thoughts, his eyes flickering to you. you looked so innocent and peaceful despite himself. how could he ever stop? how could he stop when it was you at hand?
"i'm here," he hummed, throwing an arm around you. i'm always here.
you were warm, and soft, and everything that jay could ever want in a person. your soft breathing brushed up against his cheek.
jay stared at your sleeping face.
would it hurt to pretend that you were more than friends?
he let his eyelids fall slowly.
he could imagine you and him dancing in the kitchen, laughing together as the scent of jay's cooking filled the apartment. jazz music would be playing, and you'd pretend to be an old flapper couple from the '20's, swirling around the cold kitchen tiles.
your words from earlier echoed in his head.
"i love you so much, jay!"
"you're the best."
"how could i ever be so lucky to meet you?"
it made his heart pound in his chest, unable to hide the lovesick grin spreading on his face.
he knew your words meant nothing, that you truly only saw him as a friend.
he needed to stop this delusion now, else he'd be even more hurt than he already was. you broke his heart over and over again, as if it meant nothing to you.
but as you and him twirled around his head, basking in each other's presence, jay couldn't bring himself to let you go.
he'd let you, jay thought. he'd let you break his heart.
as many times as you wanted.
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jake ☆
"the other man will always cry himself to sleep, the other man will never have her love to keep" — the other woman, lana del rey
of course jake knew that he wasn't the only man in your life.
how many times did he lay in bed at night, wishing that it was him that could hold you? how many times did he dream of being the man that could call you his? how many fantasies did he have of marrying you, of giving you the world?
and how many times did he have to remind himself that he couldn't have you— that you already had someone to love?
it made jake feel sick, seeing all the pictures that you posted with you and your husband, hearing all the chatter about your 2-year wedding anniversary, and forcing himself to smile as a tight-lipped "congratulations" fell from his mouth.
but what made him even more sick was how happy he felt whenever you showed up at his doorstep in the depths of the night.
jake couldn't help it.
he couldn't help how his stomach did flips when your hands slithered up his chest, wrapping around his neck as you pressed kisses against his jaw.
he couldn't help how his body moved on its own as he took in the scent of your perfume, his head filling with nothing but you, you, you.
he couldn't help how he craved you, how he was unable to pull away from you, even though he knew you had a husband waiting for you back home.
he couldn't help how for a moment, he could pretend that you were his; for a moment, he could live in the illusion that he was the one that you came home to every night, that he was the one that you woke up with in the morning, that he was the one that you sat at the kitchen table with to discuss your weekly grocery list, that he was the one that you laughed with in the depths of night, that he was the only man that you loved.
but as quickly as it started, you were already out the door, waving goodbye with a sweet smile as if you hadn't committed a crime against your husband.
jake knew the sight of your retreating back better than anyone, and as he closed the door, he'd suck in a sharp breath.
he would deny it over and over, until his words lost meaning.
but he knew the truth.
he was a fool for thinking that he could have you, for after all this time, he was the other man.
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sunghoon ☆
"i bet on losing dogs, i know they're losing and i'll pay for my place" — i bet on losing dogs, mitski
you and sunghoon were never meant to work out, and he knew this.
everyone said that you'd hurt him. he'd seen it with his own eyes, how you bore your bloody teeth and ripped into people like they were your prey, how you barked venomous words at people.
you were a losing dog to begin with, a losing dog that would never truly love him the same way you loved yourself.
and before he knew it, sunghoon realized that everyone was right.
you sunk your teeth into him, feasting on what love he could give you like a ravenous hyena.
but how could he resist you? how could he resist your touch, your warmth, your limited moments of compassion?
wounded, bleeding, scarred, sunghoon staggered away from the killing floor. yet, he was unable to stop himself from turning over his shoulder to see your face.
there was something disgusting he felt, something that made sunghoon nauseous. his stomach churned. and then he realized, he couldn't bring himself to leave you.
because you were a starving dog, thristy for a victim.
because you were a wailing dog, weeping over your kill as if it would atone you.
because you were a losing dog, a dog that sunghoon placed his bets on.
and it was time for him to pay the price of his actions.
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sunoo ☆
"i know who you pretend i am" —washing machine heart, mitski
sunoo wasn't stupid.
he knew it better than anyone, that your heart didn't belong to him. it never did, and it never will.
sunoo saw the way that you yearned, he saw the way that your eyes lit up, he saw the way that you gazed with love in your eyes— all for someone that wasn't him.
so why did you kiss him like he meant anything to you? why did you hold him like he could have you?
he knew why.
"i missed you so much," you breathed against his ear, pressing him against the wall. "so, so, so much."
the taste of your lips was addicting.
you liked to kiss roughly. you liked to run your fingers through his hair and pull it harshly, making him groan lowly against your lips. you liked to slip your fingers up his shirt, making him shudder.
sunoo liked to kiss gently. he liked it when your lips would melt against his. he liked it when you played with the clasp of the silver chain around his neck. he liked it when you pulled away and giggled softly at the lipstick smudge at the corner of his lip.
he didn't like it rough like you did.
but he took it all.
he took it all, because he loved you.
he took it all, even though he knew that you were kissing him pretending that he someone else.
it wasn't hard to tell.
you wore the gold necklace that he gave you, never any of the ones that sunoo got you.
you didn't even blink when sunoo's name was said, but the mere mention of his interests or career had you reeling.
and of course, he liked when you kissed roughly so you were a rough kisser, even though sunoo liked it gentle.
you don't even look at sunoo the way you look at him.
when you said "i miss you," sunoo could tell that you didn't mean it.
you didn't miss sunoo, you missed him. you just missed the attention that sunoo gave you.
he knew who you pretended he was.
but all he could do was look into your eyes, and be reminded of a tragedy: that while you couldn't love him back, he loved you.
"i missed you, too," he whispered back, swallowing the lump in his throat, swallowing his dignity.
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jungwon ☆
"if you need to be mean, be mean to me" — i don't smoke, mitski
to be vulnerable, to be at someone's mercy, to be someone's lamb for the slaughter, was jungwon's biggest fear. he'd die before he'd let someone take advantage of his weakness.
yet as you slipped out of his grip, your once loving eyes turning cold as hands that once held him in your arms became the hands that striked him, all he could do was sit back and take it.
words like daggers into his back, slashing him over and over like he was a sacrificial lamb for a god that could not save him. hot tears would line as eyes as you raised your knife at him, sending shivers down his spine that made him cower into his skin, chanting apologies like they were prayers.
jungwon should run. after all, that was all he spent his life doing.
but how could he escape you when you kissed his tear-stained face? how could he leave you, for when your anger simmered down you cradled his cheek, whispering that you loved him?
it hurt, it hurt so bad.
but if you must destroy him, if you must slaughter him until your killing floor was covered in blood, if you must cut him up into little pieces for your own pleasure, so be it.
he'd follow you into the slaughterhouse, knowing full well that the darkness was the last thing he'd ever see, and jungwon would close his eyes and thank the person that crafted your blade anyway.
you can kiss him, you can hold him close, or you can strike him, you can treat him like an animal. he wouldn't care. it would be the same either way; he'd be glad that it was you.
for he was your lamb, and you were his butcher; for if you needed to be mean, be mean to him.
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riki ☆
"even though she isn’t even really gone, but things are just different ever since she cut her blue hair off" — blue hair, tv girl
of course riki noticed. how could he not?
all those bored looks when he was talking, aimless nods when he asked you a question, and loveless kisses that you pressed against his skin. it took you hours to respond to his texts and calls, and when you did, you responded curtly. you stopped coming home, always having plans on weekends with no time for him.
riki didn't know what happened.
he thought that you and him had such a great relationship, filled with love and laughter.
but somewhere along the way, you seemed to lose interest in him.
he asked all your friends, but they said nothing changed about your behavior.
did riki do something wrong? did he make you angry? all questions that he'd never find the answer to.
the silence was piercing, ringing in his ears. he'd just asked you how your day was, and all he got back was a simple, vacant stare, before you turned back to your phone, scrolling mindlessly. his heart sunk so his stomach, brows crashing together.
had riki lost you? all he wanted was for you to look at him, for you to acknowledge him. was he being dramatic?
please, riki begged. please look at me, please see me, please love me.
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you don’t have to answer this ask but wow how are you supposed to be the bad guy fucking apologizing for reacting badly to being told to kill yourself?? i hate this website
well okay hold up i never said i was the bad guy. i said there were misunderstandings on both sides and that i was sorry for an issue in one part of how i handled it. just one.
#ask tag#not counting#like um. i do understand that maybe this person's sense of humor is way different then mine okay#but like. they said that they didn't mean it legitimately and once they saw it was haarmful they apologized#for me to say ''i am glad i understand your side of the story and you understand mine'' i am not saying i'm the bad guy#there's really no ''bad guy'' in this situation as i see it because the world is more nuanced then that y'know#like. sometimes people have a sense of humor that you can't pick up on. it doesn't mean you shouldn't state your point of view#and say ''that wasn't how i want people to talk to me and i also won't let you do that''#also the only part i really ''apologized'' for was that i used a term for them that was uncomfortable#i assume for gender reasons. and i understand where that comes from. if someone called me ''girl'' while arguing i wouldn't like it#whenever i said sorry after that i did my best to try and word it in a way like ''i am sorry this happened but it's not my fault''#like how when. idk. someone's grandma dies and you say ''sorry for your loss'' you're not saying that you killed their grandma#you're just saying that you feel bad that the thing happened but not that it's your fault#and yes. i do agree that the situation may have been fixed if they just said it was a joke but hindsight is 20/20 right?#anyways. that's my take on the situation.#and like. idk. if they apologized and told me how they saw it. i'm gonna believe them because i have had WAY more malicious people here#like idk. there have been anons who have said wayy worse and there's no discernable reason for why they would#like that one anon who told me that i should get my arms chopped off or something. idk. i deleted it before i could commit it to memory#and that was on purpose#but like. my point is. there's worse people. and if i focus all of my energy about being mad over a person who made one joke in bad taste#idk just seems like a waste of time#at least that's my perspective on the situation. never said i was the bad guy. just sorry it happened#also sorry it happened so late at night for me! i need an ibuprofen and a bagel now
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traumacure · 2 years
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i just want to be told it'll be okay by someone who actually believes it, but the angels don't sing anymore, they only weep
#they weep and weep and i weep too and it's nothing but tears#every time i think i could start to believe the things i want to. something goes wrong and an angel starts to cry#and before i know it i'm crying too#because even the angels won't sing for me now. my bluebird went silent a long time ago.#it's just a cacophony of sobs now#what's the point if they can't even lie that it'll all be okay anymore? it just makes me miserable#even when they try to tell me it'll be okay now it's choked out through sobs and far too obvious they're only trying to convince themselves#where's the comfort in that...? there just isn't any#my angels won't save me this time. they can't. they're crashing and burning and being dragged through the mud just like me#no one can save me i should know that by now. but can i really muster the strength to save myself again?#i'm trying i really am but i'm held back by all these sobbing angels their weeping makes it all feel so hopeless#i wish they'd just shut up. i don't need angels anymore not if this is what they're gonna be like#i have to become stronger. i have to do the things i never wanted to have to do. i have to force myself to live a life i never wanted#and it's not fair and it will never be fair but that's how it is. i can't keep waiting for someone to save me#at some point i have to take responsibility for myself and my life because no one else ever will#i was just deluded. misguided by sweet words that made me soft and weak and vulnerable and childish again#but i can't be that way anymore. because that me was never the one who survived#they always wound up killed off one way or another down the line. i have to kill them off before they get me killed#just like before. i'll become someone new. and that doesn't have to be a bad thing.#''this too can be a precious thing'' wasn't the stronger me always saying that?#i can change. i will change. i have to change. i have to rise to the task when no one else will. and this is one of those times.#💙.txt#vent
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javiscigarette · 2 months
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Teacher's Pet
Joel Miller x virgin f!reader
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Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help. 
Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).
w/c: 7.7k idk what happened
a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm
Part Two
my masterlist
"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.  "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 
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"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp. 
"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time” 
"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.
Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."
You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.
"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."
You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."
You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.
"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."
"You think so?" You ask hopefully.
"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."
Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."
"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."
"That simple, huh?" You scoff.
"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."
"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!
"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."
You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.
"I've watched porn before" you retort. 
"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.
"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.
Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.
"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"
You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.
"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"
"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."
"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.
"Alright. Then do."
"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.
Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face. 
"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."
You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out. 
It's not a bad idea, not necessarily. 
You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along famously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies.
 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.
It's an absolutely insane idea. 
You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.
"What?" he says, looking back at you.
"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.
"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."
You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.
"I wasn't gonna say anything."
"Well now you're lying."
"I'm not."
"You're doing it again!"
"Doing what?!"
"That face!"
"I'm not making a face!"
"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"
You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself. 
"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."
Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.
"A what?"
"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. 
"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 
His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.
"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.
"Is that what you want?"
You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.
"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."
He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.
"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back. 
But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.
"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.
"It's okay, come here."
His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.
"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."
You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.
"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."
There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.
"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.
"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."
"Not drunk?”
"Nope."
"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."
"Uh huh."
"And you still want to?"
You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.
"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."
He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—
His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm. 
"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"
You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe. 
"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod. 
You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.
He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.
It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt. 
He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing. 
"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.
"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"
"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body. 
"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."
His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.
You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.
"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.
"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek. 
"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.
"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.” 
You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.
"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"
"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."
You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"
Joel hums as he thinks for a moment. 
"What do you want to do?"
You stare at him for a second, blinking.
"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.
"Well, how far do you want to take this?"
You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?
Yeah, probably.
"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way” 
He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.
"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."
You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.
"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't, I get it, I can just leave and-"
Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.
"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."
"I want it.” 
He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again. 
“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.” 
Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.
"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."
"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"
Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.
"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile. 
"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.
"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.
"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.
You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.
"I’ll be good. I promise."
"Liar"
"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."
You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.
"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.
His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.
He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.
He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists. 
“Can I take this off, baby?”
Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.
Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.
But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.
"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.
"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.
His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt. 
"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."
The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing. 
He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.
"Can I?" he asks.
"Please."
He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.
His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.
He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.
"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly. 
"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"
He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.
"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.
You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.
"Get on the bed, baby."
You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.
He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.
"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."
"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.  
"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"
Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.
"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.
He grins, his brow quirking up.
"Look at you, being all bossy"
"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.
His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer. 
“I sure do.” 
He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can. 
"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.
He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.
His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.
You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath. 
Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.
"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.
He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.
"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.
"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit. 
"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.
"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"
You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him. 
"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again 
Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.
"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."
"But-"
"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.
You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.
"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.
"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."
You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.
And he's barely touched you.
"How's that feel?"
You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.
He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.
"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.
"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"
You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now. 
"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.
"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically. 
"I know, honey, I know."
You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.
"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.
"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.
White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge. 
You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-
"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.
You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.
He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.
"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.
"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth. 
"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.
He grunts and shakes his head.
"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."
You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again. 
He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.
"Alright?"
You swallow and nod, licking your lips.
"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"
"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him. 
"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"
"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"
"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.
He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.
"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"
He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.
"See what I mean?"
"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"
He hums and nips at your thigh.
"Damn right I do."
You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.
His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.
He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.
The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.
"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"
His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.
He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.
Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.
You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?
You're fucked.
A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.
"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"
He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive. 
Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.
He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless. 
But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.
You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.
How to please him. 
You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans. 
You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.
"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.
"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."
Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.
"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"
"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.
He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.
"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"
You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.
"Oh my god, that was terrible."
"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.
"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.
"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.
You gulp and lick your lips.
"Or..."
He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.
"Yeah, that's what I thought"
You glare at him and then sigh.
"You're a bully"
"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."
You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick. 
"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.
"And proud of it.”
"Pride is a sin."
"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"
You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.
"You're ridiculous"
"You love it"
And that's the thing, isn't it?
Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.
And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.
You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.
"Joel?" you say his name softly.
"Yeah, baby?"
"Teach me."
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Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!
5K notes · View notes
batfamfucker · 8 months
Text
What About The Kens?
I'm already seeing guys complain about the Barbie movie end, how they wanted Kens to be equal in Barbieland but were only given a small part on the Cabinet.
That's the point.
You're meant to feel bad for the Kens. Believe me, women aren't partying over the 'Returns to Matriarch' ending. Some will be, but the ones who also clocked the meaning behind it won't. Most women will also feel bad for Kens. Because it's an exact parallel to how women are treated in reality.
Men, you're meant to be upset. You're meant to question it. Because you're meant to feel it, and feel what that is like, so you can finally understand women. You're upset at seeing it in a movie, now imagine living it in reality. That's being a woman.
Kens were shit on so you could feel what it was like for women this entire time. Kens were being used as a placement so you could see yourself in a woman's shoes. A world dominated by the opposite sex. When Ken leaves, and sees male presidents (All men) for the first time, men being doctors and lawyers, etc, realising he is more than just a prop for Barbie, that was on purpose. Because that is the feeling that Barbie gave to women. It's why you cheer for him at first before he goes a little overboard.
It's exactly why the real world was an exaggerated Partriarchy and Barbieland an exaggerated Matriarchy. Neither wins. Neither is equal. None of them change for the better. It's why you should want women in the real world to be respected, and Kens in Barbieland to be respected.
The thing is, women also didn't win. Not in the real world. In Barbieland, yes, but not anywhere else. The real world didn't change. But you didn't notice, did you? That Gloria (The mother that helped Barbie) also didn't get a position on the Mattel board? It was still all men? Her idea was ignored until it made a profit, and the men will likely get the credit? She'll still just be the receptionist? The women representing the real world didn't get anymore opportunities, neither did the men in Barbieland.
I was hoping that Gloria would be offered a position on the board, and that the Barbie Cabinet would introduce another entire Cabinet to represent the Kens, but neither happened. They're complete mirrors.
But which one did you actually notice? Which did you actually care about? Now tell me again the ending was unfair. Because it was. For both parties. That's the point.
The difference is, Barbieland is fictional. You will walk out of the theatre with the reassurance that at least it's not real. Women won't. Women can't. Companies not giving women equal opportunities or voices isn't fictional, and that was just one example. There are no women presidents (USA at least) for us to go look at in the real world. We don't have somewhere to go to realise it could be different for us like Ken did. Barbie and make believe is all we had when we were kids, or even now.
You're supposed to be mad, just not at the movie.
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criminalamnesia · 23 days
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HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!
thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)
part one / part two / part three / part 3.5 (drabble)
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simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.
he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.
he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.
but he couldn’t take everything lying down.
did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?
he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.
he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.
he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.
but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.
but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.
simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.
and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?
you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.
the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.
and all the signs pointed to you.
and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.
price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.
johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.
then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.
simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.
maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.
but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.
all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.
and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.
so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.
and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.
even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.
he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.
but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.
the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.
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it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.
the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.
“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.
“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”
simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.
“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”
“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”
price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.
“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”
“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.
price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”
the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.
he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.
“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.
price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”
simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.
“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”
they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.
pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.
although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.
but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.
an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.
you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.
damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.
you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.
he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.
‘you should have killed me.’
maybe he should have.
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thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—
im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!
as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)
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Text
Millionaires Boys Club - LN
Summary: Lando is reminded that something can't be bought no matter how many millions he has in his bank account. Money doesn't fix a broken heart.
ex!reader
No part 2 requests please
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If there was a point in his life that Lando knew he'd fucked up. It was when y/n broke up with him.
The slow head shake, stepping back away from him as if she was scared he'd hurt her, red puffy eyes that looks raw, her wobbling voice telling him to just leave her alone.
He knew he could get her bad but that moment truly made him realise the type of power and trust she'd placed in him but he'd broken it. But now he's going to fix it.
So he did what any many with millions in the bank does.
He was going to win her back with gifts. Everything he could think of and she could ever dream of.
Or so he thought.
"I don't know who you thought you were dating but I'm beginning to think you don't know your ex girlfriend at all." Max sighs as he opens his boot to reveal every single gift Lando had sent y/n still wrapped and untouched.
Even flowers that were wilted and dying had been left in their original packaging. It didn't look like any of the notes were opened and read.
"I don't get it. What the hell do I have to do?" Lando groans dropping his head back. "She's being so difficult. I just spend god knows how much on all this stuff."
"You ever thought maybe she doesn't want her ex buying her back?" Max questions making him look at his friend. "I'm just saying mate. You've spend all this money on her but clearly you not buying her stuff wasn't the problem."
Lando had been very elusive about what triggered the break up. He'd seemed to keep the details vague just saying it he didn't understand what had happened really.
"You tried talking to someone who has you blocked?" Lando grumbles when Max suggests he just try calling her. He'd tried.
"Then maybe it's time to give up and let her go mate, you can't force her to forgive you for whatever you're not telling my you did." Max states earning a huff. "Maybe figure out what you did that landed you single again and then try again if you're not going to give up."
-
Y/n sighs as she steps outside with her sisters dog and immediately Lando jumps out his car like a crazed stalker and practically throws himself at her.
"Jesus Christ." Y/n gasps stumbling away while her sisters dog excitedly jumps up at Lando. "Worst guard dog ever."
"I could get you a better one if you think you need it."
"For god sake-when is it going to compute Lando? Money is not going to fix this." Y/n frowns and it becomes all too apparent within seconds that Lando has made something snap.
More tears appear. She's hurting, which is why she has been hiding out at her sisters in hopes of Lando being too scared of her sister's fiancé who is very protective over his future sister-in-law to come see her. Clearly that plan backfired.
Being vulnerable isn't something Lando is familiar with. But he knows he's at a loss of what he's meant to do here.
"Y/n, I-"
"Lando, I can't do this. Not now. I need-You need give me space and time and just...let me think." Y/n states swallowing thickly. "And stop buying things because it's not going to win me back. I don't want you to buy me things all the time. You broke my heart, Lando. Money didn't break it, so it's not going to fix it."
Lando is somewhat stunned by her words.
It's not as if he parents raised him to believe that money is the end all and be all. But he does think it's pretty important in general, he definitely feels better after buying something. Hell, when y/n walked out he bought himself a new Lando Rover to improve his mood.
Though now he's thinking about it, it didn't really do anything to perk him up or distract him from his newly single status.
Lando watches y/n walk off before hearing the door open and close.
"You know...she's not upset because you're here." Y/s/n states as she walks over to the F1 driver. "She's upset because she wants you here...but she wants you to understand what you did."
Lando looks at y/n's sister with a sigh before she sends him a sympathetic smile and rubs his arm bicep gently.
"You'll figure out how to fix this, but buying her stuff...she doesn't want you for you money."
"Thanks y/s/n." Lando mumbles not adding that as the days go on. He's beginning to doubt that he has that ability.
-
Lando sighs as he inserts the new SIM card into his phone. He had to get a new one purely so he could call y/n. Grovelling might be easier if he didn't have the start of the F1 calendar in full swing.
"Hello?" Y/n answers leaving Lando clinging to just that word as some comfort that she's at least ok. "Hello?"
"Hi, y/n." Lando greets hoping the line isn't about to go dead.
"Lando...how's testing going?" Y/n asks softly seeming to try and keep the conversation light.
"It could be better. You should be here." Lando states earning a sigh immediately. "Y/n...I know I fucked up and I know I don't deserve you. I-I know that I didn't care about the stuff that was important to you and I should-I do now. I care and I want you to be here with me. Always."
"How am I supposed to know that you mean any of this?" Y/n mumbles the swallowing thickly. "I don't want to be with you and things to go back to how they were...you got annoyed at me for being upset that you cancelled our anniversary plans."
Their two year anniversary.
Y/n had spent weeks planning it around all the F1 and McLaren stuff, along with making sure Lando could go on all his winter break trips with no interruption. She'd planned something just for them and Lando cancelled because he wanted to do something for Quadrant.
Usually she'd be ok with that, but they both know it was something the Quadrant team could've handled without him being there. He made the choice to throw all her effort away and then didn't understand when she got upset.
It wasn't even about the fact it was the only celebration of the milestone. It was the fact he knew she'd gone to such lengths so they could celebrate it and he didn't care.
"I'm sorry, y/n. You deserve better than me, but I'm too selfish to really let you go and find better." Lando states then sighing. "I'm also going to do better than I had been doing. I promise you."
Y/n is quiet on the other side for a bit amping up his nerves. He knows that he is sort of winning her over because she'd have hung up or told him that this was a waste of time.
"Would you hate me if I pay for you to fly over here?"
"Yeah, I'll let you pay." Y/n laughs then clearing her throat.
"I'm going to rearrange all the anniversary celebrations too." Lando declares making her laugh. "What?"
"Lando, you are an amazing man with a lot of abilities but arranging celebrations like that isn't not your forte."
"Give me a chance. A man trying to redeem himself shouldn't be doubted."
-
Lando insisted on picking y/n up from the airport and he finds himself in complete awe of seeing her again.
"Come here baby." Lando grins making her drop her bags and run towards him. A perfect airport scene from a movie if there ever was one.
He catches her, lifting her body up as she wraps her legs around his waist as they catch each other in a kiss that is so long await that neither realised how badly they needed it.
"Slap me next time. Slap me and knock sense into me next time I'm stupid enough to fuck up so badly that you have to leave me." Lando states making her lean back away from him for a moment. "Serious, just slap me."
"Ok. I will." Y/n smiles with a nod before she slowly drops her legs from the man's waist but he keeps hold of her waist. "I missed you...a lot."
"I missed you to. And...I never want to fuck up that colossally again." Lando promises before kissing her gently. "I'm sorry I ever did to begin with. I was being a dick."
"You won't find me arguing with you there." Y/n smiles before she shifts back going to pick up her bags that she'd dropped only for him to tsk and pick them up for her. "Oh sorry, I forgot you have to do everything for me now."
"Everything and maybe a little more, till you tell me we might finally be even."
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos
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ao3commentoftheday · 4 months
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I've always found it hard to find the right words for comments, but I used to try and put down something on all the fics I liked but after seeing what some of my writer friends, who are fairy popular in their fandoms, say privately in the groupchat about some of the comments they get, I can't bring myself to leave any comments at all any more.
I know it's a form or unloading where they can salt without hurting anyone and I generally think that's a good thing, saltmates are needed so you can talk about all the crappy annoying things in fandom in a private space and not spread shit on tumblr or ao3 etc.
But It's so so disheartening to me as a comment shy reader because it's never good enough. If it's just emoji hearts or someone saying "second kudos" it's too short and worthless. If it's epicly long well-written, funny, sweet, and clever love bombing, then it's too much and annoying.
I just don't understand, I don't write myself, I draw, badly, and I never get the kind of praise they sometimes get, but I would LOVE to have some of those things said about my work.
I love my friends a lot and I'm a firm believer in saltmates, but it makes me a little crazy and very paranoid to see the difference between what they say in private and what they actually answer to the comments in public on their fics.
I've read a lot here on tumblr about how fic writers love ALL comments etc etc and a lot of tips and tricks for people who have problems leaving comments, but I dont trust that now and I never comment anymore because I do not want a writer of a fic I love to think such things about me, even if it's just in their minds in private.
Do I have extra salty friends or is this a common thing among writers that no one wants to admits out loud?
From my experience, as a writer in fandom on and off for 20-ish years and as the mod of a comment-positive fandom ask blog, your friends are extra salty.
Have I heard people get frustrated with "I liked this!" comments? Sure. But for every one of those, I hear at least 10 people who are giddy and bouncing and just over the moon that someone liked their fic. I've never heard anyone complain about "epicly long well-written, funny, sweet, and clever love bombing." Most fic writers I know would probably pass out from happiness if they received one of those.
I don't know your friends, of course, but it sounds like someone in the group got a little toxic at some point and the rest of them went along, for whatever reason. Maybe burnout was a factor. Maybe they had a specific thing they wanted to get from their comments section that they weren't able to receive. Whatever the cause, the effect on you is bad.
I know you didn't ask for what to do about this, but I'm going to lay it out for you anyway:
stay in the group chat and feel worse and worse about every comment you've ever left on a fic
say something to your friends and ask that they have those conversations when you're not around (your choice if you include the part about it being because they make you feel bad)
leave the group chat and maybe also lose those friends
None of those options are great, but your current situation already sucks so it might be time to try something new.
I'm so so sorry that they made you feel like your comments weren't enough, anon. You don't deserve that. No one does. I hope if those authors see this ask that they pause and reflect and realize the audience they were speaking in front of.
I agree that people need a place to be salty, and I appreciate them doing it in a private space - but it wasn't private enough. ❤️
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gyeomsweetgyeom · 5 months
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[7:37 pm]
(cw: f!reader, a few curse words, no hate at all to business majors xx)
“Baby! Come on you know I didn’t mean it!” Fratboy!Jaehyun calls out with a laugh in his voice.
“You called me stupid, Jaehyun," You pout.
He fails to hide his laugh at the sight, "No, I said don't be stupid. There's a difference."
"And there's a difference between being single and having a girlfriend, asshole," you reply, slamming the door behind you.
You stomp down the stairs and almost make it to the door when Taeyong, your favorite of Jaehyun's frat brothers, asks if you were going to stay for dinner. You can never say no to him.
In the kitchen you help him chop vegetables before he finally asks you what happened, "I told Jaehyun I couldn't spend the night because I had a big project due by Monday and he told me there was no way a project for my major would constitute me not being able to spend the night. Then he just kept talking and said that none of my classes could be harder than his."
Taeyong stopped with wide eyes, "he said that?"
You nod quickly, "Oh yeah, then he told me that he doesn't think any major would be harder than his business classes, especially mine, and I'd be stupid to think so."
Taeyong ends up agreeing with you and your current upset state, Jaehyun is officially in the wrong. You can feel your phone in your pocket vibrating with texts from Jaehyun but you don't care enough to text back. He can learn from the consequences of being rude.
When the meal is finally ready, you take a seat at the table, far away from your honorary seat at the dinner table, the seat that was right beside Jaehyun's.
Jaehyun walks into the room and sees you sitting beside Taeyong and Haechan, "Really? You're still butt hurt? You didn't answer any of my texts, I wasn't sure if you were safe."
You make it a point not to look at him, so Haechan answers for you instead, "You have her location and you made her feel bad, she doesn't owe you anything."
Jaehyun glares at the younger man, he could be so annoying sometimes. While he ate, Jaehyun's eyes were glued on you with a scowl watching you laugh and interact with everyone but him. He looked like a child who was forced to share his favorite toy, it was hilarious.
While you stood in the kitchen and continued conversing with Taeyong, Jaehyun slipped in and wrapped his arms around your waist, "are you really still mad at me baby?"
"Yes, Jaehyun," You reply curtly, not reciprocating any type of affection like you would usually. This was new for everyone to witness, usually it was you giving the affection. It was you who initiated the hugs, used the mushy petnames, began the disgusting make out sessions. It was funny to see Jaehyun being the clingier of you two now.
He nuzzles his face in your neck, pressing kisses to the slope of your shoulder, "I'm not Jaehyun. I'm your love, your baby, your babe."
"Not when you're being mean."
"I didn't mean to say it," he whines, hearing someone snort out a laugh in the background.
"Jaehyun, I just can't believe you'd say that to me. You're a fucking business major with a 2.8 GPA and I'm on the dean's list with a 3.9. Almost all your classes are freshman level classes. Anything I do is harder than what you do," you finally snap.
"My love, I'm sorry," he cups your face and begins pressing kisses across your face while you still huff in annoyance in his hold.
"I don't like it when you call me stupid or imply that I am," You pout looking up into his eyes.
He presses his forehead to yours, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, "You're not baby. You're so smart and I'm the stupid one."
Someone imitates a whipping noise and mocks, "No, I'm stupid! Me! Me! I'm so stupid!"
"Fucking whipped is what he is," someone else chuckles.
"Would you guys knock it off, I'm trying to apologize to my girlfriend here!" Jaehyun calls out with an annoyed groan.
Another whip noise, "Pretty sure, I heard her call you single bro."
"Did you break up?" Haechan asks hopefully, fingers visibly crossed on both hands.
"Jaehyun gets a pass this time," you reply leaning into Jaehyun to give his cheek a kiss, ignoring the groans of the other guys in the room while he smiles happliy, "but I want flowers too."
He kisses you softly a few times, your face still cradled in his hands while he looks you right in the eye, "then my girl is getting her flowers."
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wwinterwitch · 4 months
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cowboy like me — coriolanus snow
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summary: it takes one to know one. you and him were exactly alike, which explains why you were inevitably drawn to each other
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
word count: 2k
tags: you can't fix him you're as awful as him, being delusional together, fluff??? (not really but u guys are in love and happy and married), mentions of/implied murder and being bad people, romanticizing everything
notes: idk where i was going with this i just had this idea in my head and taylor inspired me to write it. i'm also absolutely feral for young!snow it's not even funny at this point, i needed to find ways to cope lmao
i'd really appreciate a comment or reblog if you enjoy my work.
masterlists | read on ao3
A smile appears on your face the second you feel a hand on your lower back, turning around to meet your husband's loving gaze.
He stands directly in front of you, staring down at you in a way that to this day makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, like you're nothing but a teenage girl who's unlucky enough to have developed a blinding crush on a guy too charming for his own good— the thought of it makes you feel almost nostalgic, looking back at the early stages of your relationship.
Coriolanus Snow has always been a familiar face. Growing up together, you two have known each other for ages. You might've interacted a few times, but nothing beyond brief conversations between classmates.
You had a boyfriend at the time. A much too sweet and caring guy that made the big mistake of falling irrevocably in love with you. In all fairness, it was hard for him not to trail behind you like a lost puppy all the time when you were so good at making foolish boys believe you were the girl of their dreams.
Love is not a word you would use to describe your relationship. He was tolerable and clearly obsessed with you, so it made sense for you to stay with him. He learned with time that buying you very expensive gifts would get you to pay more attention to him, so that became his way of showing his affection for you.
In his mind this was perfectly reasonable. His girl likes being spoiled, so that's exactly what he did. The adoration for you blinded him enough to ignore the truth: you're just sticking around for the money. Some people warned him you were bad news, but you always managed to find a way to make him worship you all over again. Maybe you could've felt sorry for him at some point...if only he didn't have such good taste to pick things out for you.
But then Coriolanus happened. You started to notice him more and more until you inevitably started having feelings for him. How could you not fall for a guy like him? Especially after he started his quick ascend as one of the best Game makers in history.
Maybe it was the way he so fervently claimed his interest in you, willing to pursue you even when your boyfriend was still in the picture. Or perhaps it had to do with his growing popularity and power. After all, you can't deny how attracted you are to guys with ambition.
And Coriolanus is not exactly sure what made him fall for you either. There's many things he loves about you, that's for sure, but he can't say which came first. Was it your captivating beauty and intelligence, or the news that you recently became the only heir to one of the wealthiest families in the Capitol?
Whatever force pulled the two of you together, it really doesn't matter at this point. What matters is that he loves you with every fiber of his being, willing to do whatever is in his power to make sure you're happy (and what isn't, he'll do anything to get). And you love him too, of course, offering him a companionship he always craved— undying fidelity, the purest honesty and understanding.
You've never once judged him for being who he is. If anything, you seem to admire his strength to do whatever it takes to secure his place in society. No one has ever been this loving and accepting, almost encouraging him to be as determined as ever to get the two of you on top.
Whatever he did or didn't do is already in the past. Why should the past matter? Shouldn't you enjoy the present with your loving and successful husband? Be proud of the work the two of you have done to get where you are?
No, the past is gone. It already happened. There’s no need to look back at things you can't change and decisions you can't take back. It all brought you here. Every tiny little decision led the two of you to this moment; married, in love, happy, powerful. It was meant to be like this.
He didn't seem to mind about your own past either. Any other person would've judged you for the difficult decisions you had to make in order to become the wealthiest woman in all of Panem. You've seen it in the face of ex friends and lovers. They never understood your hunger for what you so rightfully deserve.
Good things don't happen to people because they're good. They happen because you make them happen. You fight, you take, you conquer. It's what life is, and it's something you and Coriolanus understand perfectly. That's why the two of you make sense. Why it feels so right to be together. You understand him and he understands you— understands you like no one else has in your entire life.
It was him the one who held you that night when you just couldn't hold it in anymore, and he sat with you while you cried and cried about your beloved sister, because even after all those years you still missed her and wished things could've been different.
If only your parents made it easier for you. They shouldn't have played favorites from the moment you were born. And they really shouldn't mess with something as important as inheritance. It's your goddamn birthright! How could they be so cruel to you? If they corner you against the wall with no apparent way to escape, it was a matter of time before you decided to stand your ground.
It's a shame your poor sister had to suffer the consequences, though. You really do love her...
Coriolanus couldn't judge you even if he tried. He could see himself in your tear-filled eyes and hear his own inconsolable sobs through your voice. It took him back to a particularly difficult point in his life where he had to make a similar choice.
He pours his heart out to you as he holds you tight against his body, revealing all the unfortunate things he was forced to do because it's all that was left. An act-or-die situation that kept repeating itself until he had no other choice but to do the unspeakable. What else was he supposed to do? What else were you supposed to do?
The regret in his voice is evident, and you know he does regret it because he’s a good person with a heart of gold. One of the best people you’ve ever met in your life. He’s good, and brave, and passionate…enough to sacrifice what he loves if the circumstances require that of him. Not many people have the privilege to claim to be as great as him.
"You did what you had to," your voice came out in a soft whisper, still affected by your sudden outburst with the thought of your sister engraved deep inside your brain. At the time you thought you were trying to ease his conscience, but maybe your statement was falling from your lips in a weak attempt to ease your own inner conflict too. "Life has been so unfair to us, Coriolanus. Is it too bad that we want just a little bit of peace?"
He stays quiet for a bit, stroking your hair in hopes to bring you some comfort as he processes your hopeless, pain-filled statement. That's probably the hardest thing about loving you; caring so much that he cannot possibly function if he knows you're hurting, and cursing himself for not being able to take that pain away. 
"We'll have peace," he eventually assures you. His voice is soft, yet fiercely determined. There's no room for discussion. He'll make it happen for the two of you. What's a few more difficult choices when he's so far gone now? When he knows it has worked perfectly before and it made all his dreams come true?
In that moment, snuggled up to his chest with his arms tightly wrapped around you, it was clear. That sense of familiarity you only get when you look back in the mirror, or when you quickly scan a room when someone speaks your name. He has suffered as much as you. He knows what it's like to be mistreated in life, and how difficult it is sometimes to live with the fact that you had to leave people behind to finally taste a drop of happiness.
The guilt comes and goes. Sometimes it's easier to remember you had no choice, but other times all you can think about is what life could've been if you weren't forced to take such drastic measures. Perhaps now that you have someone who truly understands, you'll learn to always remember you deserve all you managed to achieve.
When you move back from him to look up into his welcoming and comforting blue eyes, you knew you'd never be alone again. You'll never get to experience this free-fall, soul-consuming feeling with anyone else. And why would you even want to waste your time like that, when you already found the one person who sees the world exactly like you do? 
A love like this is hard to find. Most people spend a lifetime trying to find a love decent enough to make them feel like they're losing their minds. Like the air is missing from their lungs and everything looks much darker when the other is not around. Like they're willing to do anything to make the other happy. Like the fear of being consumed entirely by it is the sweetest of fates.
You thought you could only experience affection in the form of luxurious jewelry, fancy clothing and all that came with the important status your ex boyfriend provided. At one point, you could say you almost needed him. Or least needed his money. He provided a safety net you desperately needed after your stupid parents decided to leave everything to your annoyingly perfect sister.
After becoming the only heir in your family (it really is a shame that your sister was gone so soon, poor thing), your boyfriend was no longer a necessity, but a way of distracting yourself when you needed it. It's not like you're going to refuse his gifts and attention anytime soon, right?
But that was it. The furthest it can get to what being in love should look like. And that was what your relationship with Coriolanus should have been when you decided to make your way into his heart. Never in a million years would you have expected to meet a soul that matches yours in even the tiniest of details, that loves so deeply and cares enough to act like it's required to survive. 
With his arms still surrounding your body in a protective and comforting manner, you knew he’d be the guy you’d spend the rest of your life with. You knew it long before the day he got down on one knee, professing his undying love for you and offering the most beautiful engagement ring you have ever seen in your life. You pledged to always be there for him and, in return, he vowed to give you the world— he'd find a way to reach the night sky and collect every single star for you if that's what you ask of him. You kept each other's deepest secrets like they were your own. Two smart and ambitious people joining together in their search for greatness.
The hand on your lower back now rests against your cheek, tracing your skin in such a delicate manner that it almost makes you shiver. The white rose attached to his impeccable burgundy suit is slightly tilted to the right, fixing it with your hands as soon as your eyes notice that detail.
He smiles wider after your gesture, leaning down to capture your lips in an affectionate kiss to show his gratitude. You wish the moment could last longer, but you know it's impossible to stay behind these walls for longer when there's a loud crowd out there chanting your husband's name.
There's the briefest of interactions when he breaks the kiss, the two of you standing in front of each other with a smile of pure conspiracy— a silent recognition of the work individually done to get here, an unspoken ‘thank you’ to one another for the team effort, and the promise of a never-ending companionship that would only take you higher.
He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours before finally stepping outside to the marble balcony. Before you, a sea of people cheer and welcome the new President and First Lady of Panem.
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2smolbeans · 6 months
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Imagine being the ex of a yandere who managed to get over you after assuming you had died.
Imagine how devasted you felt when you heard that they managed to find a victim girlfriend after you had cut them off from your life.
How desperate you were to protect that woman from your "ex" so that they wouldn't end up in the situation you once were.
How quick you were to find their contact, warning them about the yandere. Begging for them to cut them out of their lives before its too late.
The paranoia that followed you every day, praying that your second identity would keep you safe forever.
How you would compare your old self to your current look and new "you" in chances of reassuring yourself that they will never find you.
The feeling of dread you felt that day when you went to the public market, speaking to a vendor while you felt someone stalking you from afar.
That worst fear finally coming true.
How quick you were to pack up your belongings and run out of the place you were staying in out of fear that they were chasing you.
When you finally ran into that alleyway, hiding inside the trash for hours until realising that they didn't have the intention of finding you..Yet.
Picking up your belongings as you walk back to your apartment, crying as you realised they were going to find you - that all those efforts escaping them would go to waste.
How you swore, cursing to yourself for having those thoughts. Why did you feel relieved knowing they hadn't gotten over you? Why did you miss them? Did you really feel that insignificant to the point that a murderer brings you some sense of comfort?
How little it took for them to find you. Backing you up against the wall as they roamed their hands frantically all over you. Touching you, grabbing you, as if to reassure themselves that you were indeed alive before scolding you.
How they gave you that damned sweet smile that made you almost miss them.
Eyeing you up and down, smirking at your new appearance. Quickly grabbing you by the throat as they manhandled you out of the exit, leading you to their car as they lovingly spoke to you.
Whisking you away as you looked at your last night of freedom.
"Well, that wasn't a fun game of hide'N seek. I'm glad it's over now! Now come on, let's go home, okay? No more running away. You're not five, y'know?"
"I thought you were gone forever.. I was so broken. I tried so hard to fill..To find someone else-"
"But when I heard it from Jessica of how you randomly approached her, "warning her" about those silly lies you made up about me- I knew it was you!"
"If it weren't for her, I would've never known.. I kind of feel bad for breaking things off with her now..But you know I could never replace you right?"
"You..You lied to me. You..Ugh."
"I'll make us some dinner when we're back at the house. Also, is that a piercing? I can't believe it, haha! With the way you were dressed, I thought I had mistaken you for someone else!
"Now get in the fucking car."
"I can't wait for us to be home together again"
.
.
.
__________________
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lenny-1of2dads · 27 days
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At the age of twenty two and upon graduating college my dad takes me to Colorado to go mountain climbing for a week. We were having a great time getting to know each other as adults. At the age of forty-two he and my mom had been divorced for five years. He said he liked being single. We end the vacation by going to a hot spring pool. I had no idea we would be getting naked. My dad is freaking hot for forty-two. The water feels fantastic. Dad says I be right back and leaves to make out with some guy in the corner. I am freaking out and starting to getting aroused. I notice two other guys from the neck up do something underwater they are enjoying. Finally a straight couple OMG right there in front of everyone. What kind of hot springs is this? I start to panic looking back at my dad is in heaven and I don't mean the dead kind. Five minutes later he comes back over. He said That guys name is Greg, he about five years older the you. That was awesome you should go check him out. I was freaking. Dad says relax I am right here nothing bad is going to happen just pleasure. My dad was the straightest person I knew I just did not understand how this was okay. Not sure why I was moving in Greg's direction. I trusted my dad I guess.
I said hello
He said bro your dad is awesome does it run in the family.
I said I have zero idea what you are talking about.
He said don't be shy come closer. We were in the deeper end the top of our shoulders and above was the only thing showing out of the water. I get close and he wraps his legs around my waist to lock me in place. He kisses my lips saying relax relax. We start making out while under water he grope my body parts. In a dark corner of a cave below ground full of extremely hot water I have sex with a guy for the first time in my life. BOOM.
When we finished and I came back to reality Greg and I were smiling and remember we we not alone after all. Greg sees that I am freaking out that was so damn hot. He said first time with a dude blew me away too. I can't believe guys get so afraid to do gay stuff it is still just sex. I have been out three years I can promise It sex with guys will only get better from this point. We start making out again. He is just awesome at this kissing stuff how is that possible.
Making eye contact with my dad after that was weird. He swims over to check on me. I was high on life, or something. He invites Greg to dinner back at our hotel to join us for dinner at seven. Dad manipulated the conversation to talk about the important stuff. First bombshell was we were both from and living Las Vegas attending UNLV. I had a degree in criminal Justice, and was thinking about becoming a cop. He was finishing up his masters degree. He was going for Clinical Social Worker. He had a house in Las Vegas I has an apartment. We were all flying out tomorrow and on the same plane. After dinner we all went to the bar. Had a few cocktails. Greg asked dad if we could have a sleep over in his room tonight. Dad said yes I will plan on see you both at breakfast. He give Greg a kiss on the mouth and then gives me one. Almost sexual but not. It was more I love you son so much.
Greg and I go back to his room for what was hours of great sex. Weird like getting a new toy to play with we had to push all the buttons we could to see how this works. I was definitely gay and had feelings for Greg. I think I fell in love with him because he made everything about me and what I was feeling and experiencing with him. He wanted so hard rock my world. He made previous sex life with girls feel like I was pretending. Because I was. We woke up the next morning like a gay couple. I called dads room and got no answer. I assumed he was in the shower.
I get dressed go to our room to find my dad had checked out. He took a flight to San Diego this morning. He left a note.
I met Greg a few months ago and we fooled around. He kept saying I was perfect for him, I kept saying I'm not gay. He talked me into doing gay stuff a couple of times. I will admit it was hot. We exchanged numbers and texted, I suggested he should meet you. You were perfect for him and both and in Las Vegas. Then we discussed that possibility.
This is your father saying this was all a set up to get you to come out of the closet and start living your life. I paid for Greg to be there and meet you. I do not mean to choose who you love. This was me saying do not be afraid of anything. With your first four years of college over. Take chances. explore opportunities and live life to the fullest. It is okay to be gay if that's where life takes you. If not you can change your mind.
Greg was at the door which I had left opened. He came in asking where my dad was. I said he was gone and gave him the note. Greg got a bit emotional and said we don't have to be boyfriends if you don't want to. Your dad loves you so much he just wanted to you to be happy.
For as long as I can remember I would see a hot guy and noticed. I assumed all guys did that. Not because I wanted to have sex with then but because I want to look like that. I wanted the same reaction I get when I see a hot guy. I did want girls to see me as hot I wanted guys to see me as hot too. It was me being gay all long I just never went there, because that was not supposed to happen. I am just now starting to figure this out. Dad had to know that. On the flight home Grag said dad had just sent him the ticket a few days before we met.
After spending time with me my dad seemed to think meeting Greg was a good idea. That me being gay was a possibility that I should check out. Dad would tell me later that time is precious, the opportunity to love someone and have them love you back is the miracle of life. Finding love is hard enough don't make it about body parts make it about the person. How that person makes you feel and how you make them feel. Over the next six months Grag and I spent so much time together I gave up my apartment. We officially became engaged shortly after moving in. A year later at our wedding and just to piss my mother off. Greg went first and then I gave my dad a kiss and together both kisses raised more than a few eyebrows. Freaked out my dads new girlfriend who also loves the hot springs where we will be going for our honeymoon.
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callmerainman · 27 days
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First Man on the Earth still couldn't hit this | sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader
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pairing. sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader
themes. enemies to lovers, Adam reincarnates as a sinner, Reader is a royal guard.
spoilers! for Hazbin Hotel S1 finale
tw! mentions of sex, suggestive themes in general, the feminism leaving my body as I write for Adam
When Adam came back as a sinner and asked to be redeemed at the Hotel, no one was having that shit lmao.
But, as always, Charlie believes in second chances and it didn't feel right to her to just not let him in.
At only one condition: he would always have to be supervised by you, Lucifer's royal guard.
You were skilfully trained to become a guard at the royal family's services, and Lucifer had just the right mission for you in mind.
You accepted gladly, finally a task that wasn't guarding his rubber ducks.
But then you meet Adam, and you start immediately regretting the ducks.
You both find each other totally INSUFFERABLE.
He hates the idea of someone watching over him, so he lashes at you multiple times a day, as you talk back to him.
"Can't you just not stick your fucking angelic spear in my cereals?"
Despite your hatred for him, you took the mission very seriously and watched over him to check all his moves, just in case he had bad intentions.
But if you could, oh you would have ran away from his repellent presence the second you saw him at the Hotel.
He despises you so much that he doesn't even dare to flirt with you. You heard right. ADAM.
It takes some next level skill to get on his nerves to the point where he doesn't even want to sleep with you. And he remarks it a lot.
You do the same honestly.
"An old hag like you can only DREAM of having a piece of the original dick!"
Your face distorts in disgust "I would rather swallow all of Lucifer's rubber ducks than even think about it!"
At least you agree on something.
So your dynamic mainly consists of fighting, shouting at each other, name calling, pointing at his throat with your spear, Charlie separating you two as soon as you start throwing hands.
Speaking of Charlie, she had some special classes to make you two get along but they made things worse if anything.
One of them lead to the biggest fight you and Adam ever had.
As soon as you both get up to go to your respective rooms, still shouting insults at each other, Angel Dust raises one of his hands.
"Is it me or I sense some unspoken sexual tension?"
Everybody groans in disapproval, but immediately starts placing bets. Angel Dust is the only one who bets that you two will end up fucking.
In your room, you try to cool down but Adam is just making your job impossible. You're in fact fuming just by thinking about him and his stupid pretty face and his way of talking back to you.
Exasperated, you knock at his door, face already hot in anger. You want to set things straight.
As soon as he opens the door and sees you, he's already annoyed.
"You're making my job fucking impossible, you know?! If you really want to redeem yourself maybe you can start collaborating instead of being the most fucking annoying being to ever land in Hell!" you scream, pointing a finger at him.
Adam gets close to your face, towering over you "I'm not the one who asked to have someone fucking glued to my ass, you know?!"
Neither of you noticed your proximity, not until your foreheads were touching and you were breathing heavily against each other's faces, both hot. From anger, or...you know.
And then, something happens.
You both just lean in and kiss.
Oh boy Angel Dust may be onto something.
The moment you and Adam start to make out is the one you realize that all that fighting was your way of denying something that is now obvious.
The magnetic, undeniable sexual tension that wasn't just some weird figment of imagination.
In a matter of seconds you're all over each other and Adam drags you inside his room. You shut the door, just in case.
After you're done you find something else to agree on! 1. Best sex ever 2. No one has to know 3. Never again
You end up having sex again that very same day. And everybody knows because they heard you downstairs. A very lucky day for Angel Dust's finances!
Neither of you knew that the others at the Hotel were aware so you two would try to sneak out to have sex discreetly.
"We'll go upstairs to...uh...FIGHT! You know? Because we always fight! And we're totally not going upstairs to have sex...'cause we would never have sex with each other!"
Except none of that is discreet, you two go absolutely wild at it.
Meanwhile, you and Adam start to open up to each other more, mainly during pillow talk. You find out that you have a common music taste, and humor. Conversations flow so naturally, something that you would have never guessed.
Something blossoms, and you and Adam realize that you are head over heels for each other.
In the end, Charlie brings up to you two that everybody at the Hotel knows that you have been hooking up. On one side, because she's genuinely happy that you two get along in one way or another. Second, Alastor threatened to obliterate you both if you don't stop exposing him to your obscenities.
So you and Adam decide to stop keeping it a secret, to both yourselves and the gang, and officially become a couple.
Let's say that you still are all over him but in a very different way.
The other guests at the Hotel start regretting the times when you two would just shout at each other incoherently.
Lots of PDA, that's the point.
Not in front of Alastor though, you don't want to risk anything.
But what's more redeeming than a really, really, really stupid love?
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sylveon-official · 1 month
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thoughts on angel's heartbreak
viv has already said that angel is gonna get his heart broken sooo
i imagine husk pushes a boundary. we've already seen husk push angel's limits quite a few times. he's obviously really judgmental and i think that's one of his biggest flaws. it almost seems like a defense mechanism, that because he's already given up on himself, he doesn't want to waste angel's potential and so he's harder on him.
we've got tons of examples of this in masquerade, with husk calling him fake. and even in welcome to heaven when angel is considering taking drugs, husk totally plays a guilt trip - "go ahead if you wanna mess up all your progress, i just thought you were better than that"
i think that's how the 'heartbreak' is gonna happen. angel can't believe he's got a someone like husk in his life and he's so smitten, coming to terms with his feelings for husk and tentatively getting hopeful that they're reciprocated. like husk has built him up enough to the point that angel feels he can break down his walls around him, so they're getting closer, more flirtatious in a really sweet way, sometimes even a little touchy.
so imagine them being at this stage, where angel so fully trusts him, which is a big deal for him. and then angel fucks up real bad. he's been clean for almost 6 months and him and everyone else in the hotel are super proud. but after a hard day in the studio he just breaks and goes on an all night bender. like he's out so late husk starts to worry and texts him, but all he gets is a belligerent phone call like "huskYYY BAaaby don' worry i'm jus' out w the girls from the studio u should be here miss yoo-" and then some guy cuts in like "angelbaby, i thought you were gonna show me a good time?" and angel's like "mmm oh ya cmere daddy~" and the call cuts off.
husk is fuckin pissed, not just bc angel is off the wagon after making so much progress, but he's also jealous. like they were obviously heading in the direction of something more, or so he thought, but here's angel back to his old self-destructive habits, getting fucked up and fucking random guys.
the next day, husk finds angel passed out on the on the couch. usually he would wake him up with breakfast or coffee if he knew he'd had a long night at the studio, but this time he just rolls his eyes and gets to work on the bar, maybe stuffing glasses back into cabinets a little louder than usual.
that wakes angel up and he's like, "huuusk what the fuck couldya keep it down?"
"it's almost noon. don't you have something to do? or someone..." he mumbles the last part, but angel hears and is wide awake like, "fuckin' excuse me?"
"what? you don't remember callin' me last night? sounded like you scored a real charmer"
angel is stalking up to the bar getting embarrassed and defensive, "wtf? since when do you care who i'm fuckin' in my free time?"
"i guess since it obviously wasn't a choice you made entirely sober! what were you thinking?! you were clean 6 whole months, and you gave it up to what? snort coke off of some hunk's abs?!"
angel's mouth drops open and he doesn't know what to say but his heart stings. he knows he fucked up real bad, but it was a hard day and he guesses old habits die hard... it's his first real attempt at getting clean, and of course he's disappointed in himself. and honestly, he was planning on talking through it with husk, but now...
"well that is just rich coming from you," angel says, shaking, rolling his eyes in the direction of husk's bloody mary.
"yeah, well, i'm not the one trying to get into heaven-"
"fuck off with that shit husk! you don't think i know i fucked up?! i'm not an idiot! you don't gotta keep that line in your back pocket for every time i screw up! i already know it's fuckin' pointless, you don't need to keep reminding me, asshole, get over yourself!" and he starts storming off upstairs, eyes welling up.
husk does feel guilty, and wants to continue the conversation, but he's still firmly of the belief that if angel just pulls himself together, he's a shoo-in for redemption and it's frustrating to see him self-destruct after making more progress than ever before.
"angel, wait-"
"NO, fuck you husk!" angel turns around, tears streaming down his face, pointing an accusing finger. "i thought if anyone could understand, it'd be you! i know everyone else is gonna be disappointed in me, but you-" he pauses, gulps down his tears and steels his face, "i guess i don't know you as well as i thought i did" and then storms upstairs.
then angel would have a few consecutive weeks of totally self-destructive behavior on a whole new level than anyone else at the hotel had ever seen. maybe he even moves out of the hotel and back in with val, having given up not only on himself and his grand delusions of getting clean and redeemed, but also his "stupid school-girl crush" on husk.
this turned into something way longer than i intended lol, but my point is that since angel is gonna experience heartbreak we know it has to involve husk, and with husk's habit of guilt-tripping angel... i think it will need to blow up at some point and be seriously discussed.
i also think we need to see the 'it gets worse before it gets better' side of recovery bc obviously it's unrealistic that now that angel is a serious resident of the hotel, his addictions are just gonna magically disappear. and i think that's gonna cause some misunderstanding and turmoil with not only husk, but also our main cast.
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sickuma · 9 months
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SILLAGE — a Simon Riley fic. 2/2
❱ again this was an au first written on tiktok! this will be the last part of it, please keep in mind that it is all fiction and that if you're going through the same thing and are having the same thoughts, please seek someone you trust. Please fight for yourselves, you're worth it ꜝ? Warning. . this is a heavy angst fic, mentions of suicide and acts of committing, if that is something that triggers bad emotions, please exit the fic.
paring is Ghost x Reader this is unedited! mistakes such as spelling and grammatical errors are to be expected !
Part 1 (^_^;)
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SILLAGE — (n.) The scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume.
—hey [name]? I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but I just really—
There was a short pause, as the voicemail erupts a slight static sound.
—I love you. That should have been enough reason. No, you were enough. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was cowardly, I figured that you'll be happier and safer, being with someone who isn't me. Someone who isn't a soldier.
It was the same night he left your apartment. He swore to himself he would not come crawling back. To protect both of you, at the time, it had been the best solution for him. Until the midnight strikes, he remembered just how serious you looked, just how accepting you looked.
Too accepting.
—because who knows when one of these missions would finally take me out. I can't let you suffer through that, I can't be the one to give you that kind of grief. So I thought leaving you was the best option.
There was a dire pause as he thought of the best words possible to express himself. He’s never been one to do such, but for you, he’s willing to be better.
—it wasn't.
He spoke desperately, almost shaking from just how much adrenaline rushed through him. He had just argued with the team, and after a long hour of explaining to them what he needed to do, he was finally permitted to bail out on this mission, it’s not like he wouldn't leave without permission, that's how urgent this is for him, he needed to get to you as soon as possible,
Even he doesn't know why he’s in a rush,
Maybe it's because of your silence, the unanswered calls, and unread messages that brought him on edge.
—I love you, far too much, my love, to even think straight without you. I love you so much it's hard to breathe. I so desperately love you to the point it hurts.
The desperation and sincerity. It was all there. He knew if he couldn't let it out now, he won't let it out ever. This was his only chance of being happy.
You were his only chance for happiness. He almost couldn't believe he thought letting you go because of his fear was the best decision.
He stupidly let you go, succumbing to the fear of dying while you wait for him. He knows better, he will do better,
For you. Because you're worth changing for, you're worth the risk.
—please don't hate me. I know I was an ass for leaving in the first place, baby, I am sorry. You loved me so much that it felt so good, I didn't know I'm capable of feeling that way, so I was scared that worse would come after. I'm not scared anymore. You looked at me like there's something in me worth looking at,
He felt like he was saying so much yet so little at the same time,
He had so much to tell you but very few words to express it. He needs to be with you. He needs to see you and physically explain to you just how much you mean to him.
—I won't waste it, love, not again. Please open the door for me when I get back. 
He frowned, realizing once again just how idiotic he was. He knew he should not have done what he did, but it was over with. The only thing left to do is to make things right somehow.
—I've never been taught how to love, I have.. I don't— I'm not the best at it. I'm sorry baby, if I'm not loving you the right way, and for leaving just like that, but I promise I'll be better. you're worth the better of me, you're worth learning love for.
He needed you, and you needed him. That should have been enough reason to risk it.
—when I come back, please let me hold you. Please forgive me for making you feel like an option between my job. It's you. It's always been you. I love you, baby, wait for me. I'll make this right.
As the line cuts, the static sound fills the eerie room of yours. The very same room he had walked out from, the same room where you sat breathing hours ago. There were no other living sounds except for the occasional ticking of the clock.
There were no signs nor sounds of life perceived in the room. The silence was thick. With your lifeless body beside the bed in a fetal position, a bottle of used pills tightly wrapped around your hands. It was light, about three to four pills left inside a newly bought bottle.
It was dead silent as if the universe sympathized with you.
Allowing silence in regards to respect for what has passed, for what has ended.
“My family’s never been the typical joyous family, I guess that affected me, as a person in general.”
You explain, running your hand through his hair while his head laid on your lap. It’s one of those days where he’d be much affectionate compared to the majority of the time. He requested to hear about your childhood while he rests on you,
For a moment you felt your heart and breath hitch.
“I guess growing up in that kind of household really—really influenced my well-being. It's given me problems and worries I shouldn't have.” You were hesitant to continue, “Fear, I started having fears for a lot of things.”It's as if you caught a glimpse of his mind, taking in the details you've just given him.“Fears like?” 
The moment the question reached your ears, he could see your body tense. He understood, and he doesn't plan on pushing it.“You don't have to answer that, my love.” he smiles, “No matter what it is you're scared of, let’s face it together, yeah? You have me. That's enough, I hope.”
Little did he know that fear was yet to come. The fear of leaving soon, the fear of being unable to keep going. How could you ever explain to him that you don't plan to stay long?
With a ragged breath from exhaustion, he dropped his things once again, the same way he did before he left. Facing your door yet again, panting as a feeling of discomfort plagued him, why exactly? He’s finally here. Why is he so distraught, he wondered.
“[name]?” he knocks,
Swallowing the lump in his throat, his voice strained, and his state dishevelled. “[name] please—it’s me, please answer.”
The lack of response made him think about just how angry he made you,
“I'm sorry,” he whispers,
“I know I was stupid and irrational. I won't do it again, petal, please open the door.”
To say he’s nervous would be an understatement. What would he do if you never find it in you to let him back into the comfort of your arms? Will he return to the familiar cold he had forgotten when he met you?
“[name] I love you.”
He desperately spoke, yearning for an answer; the smallest sign of acceptance. 
It was odd. How quiet it was. Are you that mad? He wonders, but then again, he knew you’re not one to ignore, not even when you’re the angriest you've been. You would never shut him out, not ever. “[name], please, answer, or I'll have to go inside.”
“Baby are you okay?” no response.
Each passing second was like a countdown. He was uneasy and distraught. Afraid even.
The silence felt deafening. He was afraid of what? He had no clue what he was so afraid of, surely you're okay...
Right?
“[name], I'm coming in,” he says sternly, fishing the spare key he oh so gratefully forgot to give back. His heart thumps louder with each action.
The moment he entered, the creak of the door interrupted the silence. He felt like he was intruding on an abandoned space. It felt wrong. He knew something was wrong.
“[name]? I'm back, like—like I always am.” his voice broke, stepping inside, head looking around, hoping to find you and engulf you in his longing arms. “As I told you, I’ll always find my way back… right?”
He kept speaking while he walked, checking and opening every door. Starting from the small kitchen to the bathroom, checking everywhere until there was one room left. He dreaded it, for no reason he was scared and yet he rushed,
He spoke, no—he goes on a tangent, 
“I'll take the month off. We’ll do anything you want, anything to make up for this. I promise we can even get a pet, I always say no, right? This time, I'll agree, anything for you, my love just—”
The silence rung,
Apart from the sound of the door opening by his force, there were no sounds made, not from him, not from anything. He simply stood, dumbfounded at what the room unveiled; at that moment, nothing mattered, not even the breath he had held unknowingly.
A ragged chuckle escaped his lips, though it was hollow. As if he was desperate to know that maybe this is all some sick prank. Maybe this was one of your silly games he always put up with, “Baby? What’s this? Why are you on the floor?”
“Jokes over [name] get up—”
When it all came to view, he was silenced. The second he stepped closer, he saw how your body lay lifeless, how you held that bottle, and how his eyes drifted onto the lone tear, which evidently dried along the hours. 
How long have you been here?
In this state? How long has it been since you left him?
He couldn't feel. He couldn't grasp his head around the sight before him. He’s well familiar with death. He’s seen it before, and he’s lost comrades before, but nothing comes close to what lay in front of him. 
How does one react when their lifeline lies lifeless before their very eyes?
He couldn't approach nor speak. He simply stood with weak knees, tempting to give out. It didn't take him long to crouch, eyes wide open with lips parted slightly. There were no tears, no emotions, the moment numbed him. It didn't feel like reality,
There he crouched, just a few steps away from you. It didn't feel like his heart dropped. It felt almost worse, as if you'd taken it with you. How could this have happened? Did he cause this?
If you had told him a day ago that he would witness the person he loved the most laying on the floor devoid of life, he would have laughed at your face, punching you even. This isn't reality. This isn't a reality he wants to face.
It took every courage in his body to bring himself closer to you, afraid of what more he’d discover. With slow steps, he drew closer, grabbing your hand was the first thing he thought of doing. “Oh god…” his voice broke,
Your body isn't as warm as it used to be,
Not as he remembered. The warmth he loved when he would hold you against him, it’s gone. You're gone.
He had felt countless of stiff lifeless bodies and yet yours hurt the most,
The mere thought of it destroyed him. It hasnt sinked in yet, but he could tell. He could tell his demise is near. The realization will hit him in a short while. 
“Baby, im home…” this wasn't him. This was not his voice. Stuttering over the easiest words, strained with pent-up sobs. His chest felt heavy, almost making it difficult to breathe. 
Yet with hitched breath, he picked up your limp body and placed you in his arms, crushing your icy body against him. He held you tightly, but his hands cradled your body tenderly. It was as if he’s afraid of hurting you more.
Ghost was forever fearless, always facing whatever challenge was given to him, even his mortal enemy would know that he isnt necessarily the easiest solder to crack, let alone destroy and yet he finds himself sat on the floor holding the lifeless frame of his lover,
Cradling whatever is left of you,
Desperately holding onto what he can possibly hold on to.
The lieutenant everyone looked up on, admired and viewed as an admirable man, sat on the floor with a weighing heart. Holding back the tears that had formed without his knowledge as he held your body, 
but right now, he wasn't lieutenant simon ‘ghost’ riley.
At this moment, he was just simon, the simon you loved desperately, the simon who loved you just as insanely.
This person right this moment was your simon,
He wasnt anyone else, he was yours.
As he sat on the hard cold floor, thoughts roaming with his heart screaming, he felt like a mess, but that didn't matter. Words can not describe the regret, remorse, and stupidity he felt,
If i didnt leave,
If i didn't walk out that door,would you still have been alive in my arms?Would i still have to hold you soulless?
He held you closer, bringing you closer to him, as close as possible. He felt nothing but regret, nothing but anger for himself. Why is it that the very grief he tried to protect you from, the same reason he left, the same grief he avoided you to feel, why is it that he’s feeling it now?
His ragged sobs filled the room, and the rest remained still as if everything sympathized for him. As if the world understood the hurt he carried. He sobs, holding onto you as if doing so would bring you back. He knew nothing well, and yet he foolishly cried, hoping you’ll hear him and come back to ease the pain.
Like you always did.
At the corner of his eyes, he saw the letters piled not far from them. Without standing, nor letting go of you, he reached for it. Reading the names addressed on each, until he sees the one for him.
Of all the few letters he saw, his was the only one with tear drops which ruined the ink in front, almost unable to read, he brought it closer, dropping the rest.
Simon,
I felt everything.
Thank you, and im sorry,
I love you :)
Swallowing the impossibly heavy lump on his throat, he opened the carefully folded letter. He was met with even more tear drops. The thought of you crying, alone, while you write him a letter to bid him goodbye, crushed his soul.
He cant imagine a greater pain,
It felt surreal.
How could I..
How could I have lost you this easily.
With his blurry vision, he starts to read—well—attempt to. With every sentence, every punctuation, every meaning of your words, all of it felt like a slap to reality.
How could he have not seen?
How did he not notice? Not paying attention to what you were going through? How could he have been so careless as to leave you all alone.
The very fear you spoke of,
He did just exactly what your family had done.
If anybody could have saved me,
it would have been you.
He read the part over and over again, allowing your words to cut through his heart repeatedly. He left you, and yet, at the end of the day, you still see him as someone—the only one who could save you. 
Despite the war inside your mind,
Inside your mind and unwavering emotions, which he hadn't bothered to unveil, he remained the most important person.
May it be in your chaotic mind or the furthest crevices of your heart, he remained on both.
He read it all,
Understanding every single thing you failed to say in person,
Everything you failed to say while you still lived.
It hurts even more. He thought nothing could be more painful when he saw you laying lifeless. But having to read what you wanted to say,
How sorry you were, how thankful you are to him, and how he made you feel. 
It was surely another cut to an already existing wound. His mind flashed memories while he went over the tear stained letter you left.
He remembered everything as if they were as fresh as yesterday. When you first smiled at him, when you first held hands, when your lips first touched.
Your words were true. The story of you really is short-lived. But he couldn't help but think about the what If's
If he stayed,
If he hadn't walked out,
If he ignored his fear of abandoning you,
If he hadn't been so stupid and cowardly.
He gave up, and the heavy lump on the throat overcame him, letting the sting linger for as long as eternity. He read the last words on the letter, with a loud sob, with repeated pleads.
Repeatedly apologising, repeatedly begging for you to come back so he could fix things so everything could return to normal,
So you could return.
A childish wish. A high-ranking soldier held the lifeless body of his lover all while he begs for them to come back. 
"I'm so sorry." He whispers, voice too broken to speak normally. "I'm sorry for not noticing."
"I'm sorry you had to be alone." 
"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He repeats over and over again, holding you against him. 
At the back of the letter, he could barely see the words written with how blurry the tears clouded his eyes.
Thank you for making me feel.
The words only crushed him even more, sobbing and crying harder to no avail. 
"[name]..." He whispers, holding you close. "Did it hurt? I'm sorry, it must have been so hard."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm so sorry for not being here you."
He apologized, wishing he could have been with you. To convince you otherwise, wishing he could have been here to avoid this,
To avoid losing you.
Wishing he could have stayed to keep making you feel.
The thoughts of your words before he left suddenly entered his mind,
"Can I hug you?"
"One last time?"
Now it all makes sense why you looked so serene, why you looked so accepting. Why did you have that small smile on your lips,
You were bidding him goodbye.
That really was the final hug. 
The final touch he'd ever get, the final living affection he would get from you. 
He holds you now, but it wasn't the same, not even close. Back then, you were smiling and breathing, but now you're no different to an inanimate object. Stiff and cold, this is the person he loved so dearly?
It ached.
And it ached painfully.
The type of ache to never go away, the type of ache he'd keep forever.
The type of ache he'll willingly embrace,
As he held you that night, mourning for what could've been, mourning for someone beyond saving.
This was the ache he'd willingly feel forever,
If it means having you in his mind and heart. He would willingly hurt himself by keeping that ache if it means keeping you in his deceased heart forever.
As the remnant of your memories roamed the room, your presence which now passed, the scent of yours he dearly craved. It left a sillage pain to remember,
You left a sillage worth remembering.
"I'll keep you in my heart,
Even if that damage me,
Even if it kills me.
I'll keep you safe forever."
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gibbearish · 1 month
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so this post has been made unrebloggable now (shocker) but ive been feeling the need to address it since i saw it on my dash multiple times, so let's explore how lying on the internet works. more specifically, how blending truth, lies, and omissions to whip uninvolved people into anger works, because i think this is an excellent example and that pointing out the misinformation and the tactics used to spread it here is important, both in correcting the specific falsities but also in helping recognize similar tactics in the future.
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so here we have several things that are technically true: staff has been very openly shitty to trans women for a long time and them banning predstrogen is clearly part of that, there is currently a movement regarding discussing transmisandry/transandrophobia, transmisogyny and transphobes sending transphobic asks is by far nothing new, and baeddel is/was a slur. however, among all of this are half-truths, unprovable speculation, or outright lies made to make you believe these events are originating specifically from transmascs.
firstly, the transandrophobia movement has been drastically misrepresented here in the same way it has been for the whole argument, "they're just trans MRAs" has been repeated so many times now that i'm gonna be hearing it in my dreams when i'm 80. i can understand not being willing to address the nuance of that whole discourse in one post that isn't directly focused on that, i'm certainly not, but in this example it's not unwillingness to address a complicated topic, it's a deliberate misrepresentation to frame one side of the discussion as The Evil Bad Ones That Can't Be Trusted. additionally, this post IS about that discourse and is just pretending it isn't to mislead a wider audience, so refusing to address it at all beyond this brief mention is deliberately misleading people about the goals of the group because They're The Other Side Of The Discourse. "transmisogynists" is used as a buzzword here, it doesn't actually refer to Anyone Who Hates Transfemmes, it refers to Transmascs Who Discuss Transmasc-Specific Oppression Using A Word They Coined To Point Out That Queer Spaces Have A Big Problem With Masculinity and just. doesn't tell you that's what it means, relying on the structure and framing of the post to create the Transmisogynist = Transmasc association in the audience's head so op doesn't have to say it outright (and of course the implied Transmasc = Transmisogynist association that follows because creating THAT association is the Actual Point of this post). the mentions of transmascs in this post are designed to look like afterthoughts, op says "typically those who espouse transandrophobia" to make it look like they're saying there's other people they're referring to here too, but almost everything in this post draws from the transandrophobia discourse. some random cis transphobe in texas has never heard the term baeddel in their entire life much less used it in a debate about transphobia, this is an intercommunity argument through and through, but op is trying to mask the fact that they're just referring to "transmascs who disagree with me specifically" and make it look like it's part of a wider trend. and again, i'm not going to go into the nuances of transandrophobia here, but i highly recommend reading some of the theory on it by @nothorses (x) and @genderkoolaid (x) because the "theyre just trans MRAs" argument kinda just collapses under its own weight as soon as you look into it even a smidgen. i've linked a couple broad overviews there but they both discuss it frequently and in-depth, specifically nothorses has a pinned post linking to many different discussion threads that i would recommend checking out if you do want to learn more about what the actual conversation surrounding these words is.
so, after framing the movement this way, they go on to say that the reason predstrogen was banned wasn't /just/ because staff has a long and established hate boner for trans women, but because the transandrophobia movement was teaming up with TERFs to mass-report her and other transfemmes, and implies that this is part of a deliberate conspiracy between Transandrophobia Truthers™, TERFs, and staff. you'll notice that there are no, say, screenshots of transmascs saying theyre deliberately reporting her or of that they're working with TERFs, behind-the-scenes lists of people who reported a certain account, or any evidence for this beyond "she was a trans woman, they're trans men who hate trans women, she got banned, so these must be related". which i find especially funny now given that photomatt has continued melting down about this since it happened and made it pretty clear it yknow. was just part of staffs ongoing hate campaign against trans women that has been going on much longer than the transandrophobia debate? and that maybe the fact that The Literal CEO is having a personal meltdown about this might explain where that could be coming from or at least why it's been allowed to continue for so long, moreso than any individual users reporting someone could? but i digress.
who reported what account is completely unprovable as a casual user unless people directly admit they did it, so to bring it up like this begs the question of what actual reasoning they have for saying it beyond trying to tie a current display of bigotry into an unrelated discourse. that's not to say it's impossible people who discuss transandrophobia were wrongfully reporting her, because again, thats something we have no way of knowing, and the internet is a shit place so i wouldn't be surprised. but given the circumstances and the rest of the lies here, i have my doubts about this being an actual yknow. Thing That Happened rather than just another lie to make people mad at transmascs. now one could make the argument that op wasn't saying transmascs are /deliberately/ teaming up with TERFs/staff, that "teaming up" was just a poor choice of words to refer to multiple groups who happen to have the same goals in mind at the same time but aren't actually coordinating with one another, but given the deliberate misinformative slant of the rest of the post and the overall phrasing in this section, i have trouble extending that grace. regardless, however, that doesn't change that who is reporting who isn't something verifiable, so stating it here as a confirmed fact is disingenuous at the absolute best, and a lie chosen specifically because it's unprovable at worst. if op /does/ have proof that transmascs have been teaming up with TERFs to get trans women banned, not including that with this post is just uhhhhh dumb, and if op /doesn't/ have proof then Why Would You Go Around Telling People That's What Happened Unless You Were Lying To Them On Purpose With Ulterior Motives.
next, op goes on to discuss the rise of the term baeddel. now as i said before, the truth here is that it certainly was a slur and certainly can still be used as one, again the internet is a shit place so i would be a fool if i tried to say "no one is using this as a slur". however, this is once again a drastic misrepresentation of the situation. baeddel's rising use is due to certain trans women reclaiming it and aligning themselves with the original group's politics, namely that femininity is good and masculinity is bad (aka terfism 101), with the added caveat that by abandoning femininity for masculinity, transmascs are evil and betraying devine womanhood and their community by putting more Evil Manhood into the world. of course that in turn is a drastic oversimplification of their politics and i highly recommend checking out this post with an actual in-depth exploration of the history (and without my added flavor), but the important part to note here is that this is not a term transmascs just Started Using one day because they hate transfems so very much as is implied here, its use is directly tied to a group of people saying "hello, here is what i am, and here is what this word means about what i believe," so others went "ok, these specific beliefs are called this." bringing up the fact that it historically was a slur is misdirection here, when you look closer this is almost a 1 to 1 translation of TERFs crying that TERF and radfem are slurs because People Don't Like Their Politics And Therefore Them, so the name for their politics is used negatively, so therefore it's a slur. that argument just has a little more oomph behind it this time because It Was A Slur Originally. and again, that isnt to say no one is now using it as a slur, the rate of decay for online discourse is ridiculous so it being boiled down to and used as "evil transfemme" has certainly already happened, but to act like /every/ use of it is a slur is literally just a lie, when you self-identify with a term based on your shared politics with the original group then you do not get to claim everyone using that term to describe those politics is doing so exclusively to attack you. also this part is entirely speculation but given that op's url is basically just. baeddel switched around to dae bel, i would hazard a guess that they perhaps are indeed aware of the origins of its re-use? but again, that's entirely unprovable and based just on wordplay, but like. given the Everything here i wouldn't be surprised. now, there's definitely an argument to be made about calling users baeddels based just off of their politics when they don't personally self-identify with it, if that constitutes calling someone a slur and if TIRF should be used instead, but crucially, that is not the argument being made here. the argument being made is "ANY AND ALL use of this term is calling someone a slur," and that literally just Isn't The Case.
finally, to tie the whole post off, op reminds us 1) if you hear anything bad about any trans woman ever, it's probably a lie to make her look bad, and 2) if you hear anyone say anything about transandrophobia, disregard everything else they have to say because they hate trans women. not "be critical of the things you see or get sent" or "be on the lookout for things following a certain pattern," a unilateral "anything bad is probably fake and anyone who uses the bad words is probably evil." that is not something someone does if they are genuinely trying to raise awareness of an ongoing trend, that is what someone does when they want you to turn your brain off and be mad at a group no matter what they say.
so yeah, in summary, do be critical of the things you see and be on the lookout for certain patterns, because sometimes people will just Lie to you. or, sometimes people will tell you portions of the truth while leaving out crucial bits so that you'll come to the conclusion they want without anyone being able to say they lied to you without typing up a thirty paragraph long hell post. transmisogyny is absolutely a problem on this site and there are 100% valuable conversations to be had about it and its presence within the trans community, but this post is not that. this post uses real transmisogyny and the wrongful termination of a trans woman's account as set dressing to say that it was all because of evil transmascs who run the trans community behind the scenes conspiring to take out transfemmes, so you should ignore anything they have to say because All of it is secretly motivated by transmisogyny. they're never discussing transandrophobia because it's something that actually effects them, they're doing it to hurt trans women by saying they have it worse. they're never telling you about shitty things a trans woman did to spread awareness, they're lying to make her look bad, or even if it's true they're only talking about it as part of a hate campaign because she's trans, they wouldn't care otherwise. they're never using a specific term because People Use That Term For Themselves, they're calling someone a slur because they hate trans women. there's always an explanation you can think up that ties it back to transmisogyny, and op says that instead of assessing all of what someone says and the context behind it to determine if that's what's happening, you should assume transmisogyny is the answer and refuse to engage any further as soon as you see a word you've been told is bad.
this post is discourse recruitment masquerading as a public service announcement that doesn't offer you any routes to actually learn more about what's going on, it just tells you Here's What's Happening, Here's Who's Evil And Should Be Ignored, And If You Disagree You're Also Evil And Should Be Ignored. content of the actual post aside, i think anything framed that way should be taken with a MASSIVE grain of salt and this would have raised my alarm bells even if i wasn't already pretty familiar with the arguments, people who genuinely want you to know something just because it's good to know will give you options to learn more or encourage you to actually use your critical thinking to assess things, not tell you to sit down and shut up and ignore anyone who disagrees with them.
anyways i guess tldr
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