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#but i was probably writing him poorly

vulpixhoney · 3 months

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why does Rick Riordan hate the original myths so bad 💀

the Asphodel stuff?? regret? where is that coming from? you fully just made that shit up? out of his ass fr. the fields of Asphodel are specifically an area of neutrality, where the pretty much all mortals go when they die. it's for anyone who lived a normal life, who isn't a hero or a literal monster. it's specifically a neutral zone for people to exist once they die, it has nothing to do with ~your regrets in life~. it's like, a peaceful field of flowers where all your life's troubles are left behind on the surface.

the closest things to that is the fields of mourning/sorrow, but that's specifically for unrequited romantic love and also not called the fields of Asphodel (and also I'd bet money that rr doesn't know what that is) (and also only in Virgil's The Aeneid and not the Odyssey with the rest of what we know of the underworld)

#the fields of Asphodel are so so personal to me as someone who practices helpol too #like thats such a stupid and nonsensical change #just straight up fibbing for fun #and for what? a half baked poorly writted one off scene??#like he really just hates the myths huh #this and how he depicts a lot of the gods (namely ares Aphrodite and athena)#snd HERA #GODS #i forgot about that originally he fucking SLANDERS hera #for no reason #hes is such a MAN he cannot write a well wrotted female character for the life of him goodness gracious #and Persephone too!! with how she treats nico #“he would not fucking say that” but its me to about how rr depicits the gods #and mostly the female ones too #he writes all of them terribly but its noticable how he is nice to the “misunderstood men” like Hephaestus and Hades #but then slanders the women #and what he said about Aphrodite when asked where she was in tlo!! “oh she was probably busy doing her makeup hahaha”#ill kill you. like what the fuck??#this got horribly off topic oops oops #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv show

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elendsessor · 17 days

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i keep seeing so much smt5 stuff on my dash so i think it’s a good time to express how i really really hope aogami isn’t done dirty in vengeance

ik not all stories need a happy ending and smt knows that well but there’s a right way to do it and god given how the protagonist and aogami’s relationship actually was during the game it made true neutral so much worse

so it’s ok for all the other human characters to die or continue existing with their demon soulmate but not the protag-

seriously though it’s harming the themes of 5 when tne already has a bunch of thematic flaws

there’s so much of the game that convinces you not to go through with tne which is fine!! it makes sense why the game would punish you emotionally for it. but having the ending bias most mainline games have (aka make it super obvious what ending they want you to go with by not putting as much or straight up no effort into the other endings) it makes it obvious this was the ending being pushed when it shouldn’t have been. that’s why it pisses me off so much—you either shoot for tne or get a half baked ending monologue. it’s extra sad since aogami’s goodbye leaves you feeling like shit but considering apparently this is the ending that matters, you’re ultimately forced to go with it so it doesn’t have the right impact.

i will defend 5 on a gameplay standpoint and a thematic standpoint but atlus i’m begging you just because da’at’s technically a post apocalyptic setting and tokyo is in the matrix does not mean everyone is fair game to just kill or write off and i am desperate for the other endings to put in real effort so tne feels more like an actual proper ending for the one guy who wants to do the equivalent of undertale’s genocide route.

#i will never stop talking about this until vengeance releases but imma make it an actual post so it’s official #as poorly written as the plot is there are in fact themes and true neutral just gets rid of all of them because of that writing #aogami’s also like the best written character (a few demons were done really well actually)#so basically writing him off the way they did was so scummy #what if i like the half robot dad huh. what if i think demons have rights huh.#seriously so many of the demons in 5 that are in the main story or sidequests tend to be pretty chill #probably the most characterization for them aside from devil summoner #so i just. feel bad and the ending bias makes me feel even worse ok #shantien rambles #smt #megaten #smt v #smt 5

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steakout-05 · 4 months

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//ableism mention tw

ok just gonna say something really quick: i absolutely hate Abe's characterisation in the reboot of Clone High because it is nothing like how he acted in season 1 and it just. isn't funny. they've turned this good-intentioned but flawed loser kid who just wants to be like the original Abraham Lincoln but doesn't know how to, into a self-centered and arrogant asshole who literally almost said a horrible ableist slur twice in the first episode. like. i'm being serious, he almost says the R-slur twice in the same minute and i dunno about you but i really don't find it very funny when a) the only "joke" behind it is "oh look at how bad Abe is compared to the more progressive sensitivities of the new generation of clones, isn't he just terrible", and b) they felt the need to completely rewrite a pre-existing character that fans are already attached to to do something against his own morals for the sake of a shitty joke, and c) TOPHER WAS RIGHT THERE!!! isn't he supposed to be the asshole or am i missing something?? like...

i'm not saying you can't have "edgy" or "dark" comedy or whatever, but personally, i don't find it very funny when a character that actually means quite a lot to me and is one of my favourites is twisted and rewritten into an arrogant asshole in an apparent attempt to appeal to the people who hate Abe for his flaws in the original show. especially when he's rewritten to be someone who would say a slur that's literally been used against my fellow disabled peers, myself included. it just feels... wrong. it actually hurts a lot to see a character i once loved and found to be one of the funniest and most important characters in the show be turned into an arrogant dick, with barely any thought or meaning put into him. i don't like what they did with the rest of the OG cast as well (such as Joan making a complete 180 in her entire character, JFK's character assassination, the removal of Gandhi, Cleo barely being in it etc.), but to me, they did Abe the dirtiest in this season and i'm really disappointed that one of my favourite shows had to continue like this :(

#clone high #abe lincoln #rant #sorry this post is a little heavier than what i usually post on here but i just felt like i really needed to say this #abe from clone high is actually quite an important character to me and i'm still upset that he's been written so poorly in season 2 #like he's a silly parody of a teen drama protag but honestly i think his struggles in the original series are actually really meaningful #like he's a little shy and doesn't exactly know how to express his ideas in the best way but wants to help and i just think that's so real #especially as someone who struggles with that myself #he has so much pressure to live up to the OG abraham lincoln and he really wants to be like him and tries but doesn't get it #i mean he even says something like that in episode 2 when joan and gandhi come to see him in his room and that's really relatable #so to see him so horribly misinterpreted as a selfish asshole really hurts me.#they've essentially done the thing where a fandom will tear apart the neurodivergent coded character #and write them off as selfish and arrogant and completely misinterpret everything about them #not saying that Abe is written to be neurodivergent but you get my point #it's kinda like that #he's relatable to me as an autistic person and a lot of his struggles are similar to what the autistic community experiences #also i'm sad that gandhi had to get removed because he's important to me too #he's actually one of my favourite ADHD reps on tv i've seen and he's just really funny #i know he was removed because people in India got offended and they probably don't wanna cause another incident like that again #but still it's such a shame he couldn't be included because he was a great character #also slightly unrelated but i think turning characters into a moral debate it stupid and often results in stuff like this happening #ableism mention #tw ableism mention

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majorbaby · 1 year

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that bakery gifset of mine is circulating again and a lot of people are taking note of how genuinely happy frank is about the prospect of baked goods. is that the one time we see frank genuinely want something frivolous or want something for himself that doesn't bring harm or misfortune to another person?

most of the time he's after money, prestige or validation from other people and he's willing to lie, cheat and steal to get it. and even when he does get it, he doesn't seem happy. he's of a higher rank than hawkeye and trapper and he lords that over them but it doesn't bring him lasting happiness, he still wants their companionship and approval.

maybe i've been too sympathetic about his whole 'liking to be liked' it's human nature to want to be liked but no one can reciprocate genuine affection towards frank because he's not putting any of that out there to begin with.

there's margaret but she constantly doubts whether or not frank really likes her several times, and with good reason. he's critical of her looks, he's unwilling to leave his wife for her, "surely i'm worth $240 dollars" sure you are margaret as long as you pay it back with interest. i do think he probably likes her as a person or at the very least is sexually attracted to her, but that's probably less important to him than the external validation he gets from her attentions.

the best thing you can say about most of his desires is that he's far from the only guy who wants all of those things, and he was probably socialized that way. that does not absolve him of his actions.

but he wants pie! and in another episode (quo vadis captain chandler, i believe) he says a prayer for chocolate pudding which, alas, god answers "no" to. the former is a pretty innocent moment for frank, i think that's why i like it.

#i am all aboard the hawnk express but i do wonder about how margaret might feel about that #if it's after she and frank have broken up #she might just say to hawkeye 'hey it's your funeral'#assuming she finds out of course #it's enough of a questionmark for me that if i were writing hawnk i'd probably just leave margaret out of it altogether #i think she'd be entitled to feel some kind of way about her friend dating her awful ex #tbf to hawkeye in this situation (although can we be fair to him at all if he's fucking frank?) he probably has no idea how poorly frank #treated margaret #frank meta #re: mash

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the-divine-rat · 1 year

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Weirdcore Short Story: Late.

TW: Derealization, mention of death, mention of medication, mention of an unspecified anxiety disorder, depicted anxiety attack, repetition of a phrase

“He’s late…again” I said under my breath.

It was the third time this week my grandpa, who I live with, had been late to pick me up from play rehearsals. But the later it got the more worried I became. Did he hurt himself? Did he die? I had to shake the worry from my head. He was always forgetful, maybe he just forgot he didn't pick me up already.

Even the security guards had left at this point now. I looked at my phone, 11pm.

“Where are the janitors…?” I said out loud.

Only echoes responded.

“Ok, I’m walking home now! I don't care how bad this part of town is at night when walking!” I yelled, in hopes someone would realize a kid was still there, or maybe manifesting my grandpa coming to pick me up.

I couldn't call grandpa, he never checked his phone and even if he did, the school had a bad wifi signal to deter kids from being on their phone during class. I went to leave, but realized I forgot my bag, so I grabbed it and tried to leave again, but the door had locked in the time between me leaving and coming back in. So I decided to walk through the school, see where everyone had gone. I mean, the school is clean but there still should be janitors right? And they could unlock the door for me.

The more I walked through the school the more empty it seemed. Until I reached a door that absolutely wasn't there before. It was right next to the library, a place I went to almost every lunch period, so if it had always been there, I’d have noticed. So naturally I opened it.

Where I had ended up was outside the library, with a security guard right there.

“Your grandfather and I were looking for you everywhere you cant just run off like that!” He said.

He was a family friend, so he cared a lot about me, I think.

But on the way home things felt different, like I was no longer in the world I was meant to be in. Like I went from my world to some alternate one. Everything seemed off, but I never mentioned it. I knew I would only sound insane. So I just went along with what the people around me said and did, despite it being off. I was never really sure of whether or not what had happened was a dream or not, until 3 years later, when I was a library assistant at that same school as part of my college program.

A 9th grader, a boy with dirty blonde hair like mine, walked up to the desk.

“Wake up.” he said.

The 9th graders all played a lot of pranks so I thought it was just that, until he said it again.

“Wake up” This time his voice sounded different.

“What?” I asked.

“Please,” The boy said.

“You can’t just walk up to someone and tell them to wake up, you could make them think nothing is real and- and that could make them a bit afraid.” I said trying to hide the anxiety in my voice.

I had had feelings of nothing being real before, it all being a dream, and it all started when I went through that door three years prior. But I never thought anything of it. Like how I never thought anything of the little ways this world felt off.

“Wake up!” The boy yelled, as if he didn't hear what I had to say.

“I’m going to have to send you to the office if you don't stop,” I said, my voice now clearly shaking.

“Wake up Kim. Please. It’s been 3 years” the boy said, his voice now sounded…familiar.

But no. This couldn't be a dream. Everything was finally going well for me. I have a romantic partner, I have a job that pays, I’m in college to be a teacher. This can’t just be fake…right? I looked at my phone, 11pm. It couldn't be 11pm. It looked like it was still morning. Maybe my phone glitched, and it meant to display 11am. I looked at my phone again, it still said 11pm. It had been a few minutes of me talking with this boy, trying to get him to stop after I had checked my phone, it should have been at least 11:03 or something.

I started crying. This couldn't be a dream, it was perfect, I can’t just leave it all behind.

“Wake up” The boy said again, now sounding like he was pleading.

“STOP! STOP I CAN’T LEAVE THIS ALL BEHIND!” I yelled.

The boy disappeared.

“Are you alright Mx. Kim?” The librarian finally asked.

I looked at my phone again. It read 11:03am. I sighed.

“I’m fine, I think I forgot to take my anxiety meds this morning,” I said.

“You should go rest.” The librarian said.

So I left the desk to go to the break room. And on the bulletin board was a sticky note.

All it said was “WAKE UP.”

#this is probably very poorly written I did this while tired in like an hour while listening to a weirdcore playlist #tw weirdcore #weirdcore #short story #writeblr #tw derealization #tw mention of death #tw anxiety #tw anxiety attack #dreamcore #tw dreamcore #tw hallucinations #that last one was just to be safe since near the end the boy disappears and no one aknowleges him as if he werent there to begin with #writing #weirdcore writing #i hesitate to call this a horror short story but #horror short story

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domesticmail · 7 months

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there is a mouse nesting in my chest, making itself a home out of my muscles and bones. a constant thrum of nervous energy commanding all of my attention, my heart beating in harmony with the anxious patter of animal footsteps. it's made a bed between my lungs and i can feel the pressure, each breath shorter, quicker, needier.

it's inescapable. that's why i hate the mouse - not because it exists, or it happens to exist inside me. because no matter what i do, there is still a mouse in my chest. it chews on my ribcage, tiny teeth gnawing on (quite literally) the structure of my life, unaware of my total misery, thinking only of itself.

anyway that's a bit of creative writing about my anxiety. my boyfriend and i haven't spoken in two days and i'm just completely panicking inside but he asked me to give him space so that's what i have to do. i really struggle with being alone while triggered, and leaving an argument unresolved without a clear time to come back around and discuss it is a trigger for me. (that's not my partner's fault, i was not really aware of this previously. i just thought everyone began to spiral and completely panic for days) i am not very good with self-soothing but i've made massive progress recently.

it is really hard for me to drop difficult topics of conversation when they arise because of the way i was raised. i've talked about it on here before but basically from the time i was about 8 to when i was 18 if i got caught doing something i wasn't supposed to, the resulting punishment would always be an hours-long interrogation in my parents' bedroom about WHY i disobeyed them. i think the longest was like six hours. they would keep me there and grill me, telling me i was a horrible role model, a bad older sister, and a bad daughter. they would occasionally call my younger siblings in to explain why i was in trouble, and then have them all tell me one by one their thoughts about whatever i'd done (ranging from not turned in a homework assignment or two to sneaking out one night, etc. stuff i'd consider normal teenager stuff but maybe isn't? idk). i distinctly remember them calling my aunt and my grandparents (separate times) to have them humiliate me. frequently, i would cry so hard for so long i would begin to hyperventilate and my mom would call me disgusting, saying she hated the way i sounded while i cried. eventually i learned to just go completely numb to all of it, but they hated that, too, and would say i looked smug and self-righteous. i held up being completely stoic for a while and then one day, i just broke. i thought to myself, they're just going to do this to me forever, and they keep acting like i'm talking back to them anyway. they berate me for not standing up to them and just being quiet, so FUCK them i'll just be mean back." that obviously didn't work either but it felt better than the first two, so it persisted until my sister attempted suicide. i never acted out of line after that, because i figured i needed to take care of my youngest siblings, and i could only do that if my parents trusted me.

and throughout all of this, i was NEVER allowed to leave a punishment, to take a break, etc. they endured until i met some arbitrary criteria for being punished, and then i could go back to my room.

so i'm accustomed to just dealing with it the first time, and moving on. i hate waffling around the issue. being direct and respectful is very freeing, you have the ability to say what you want and address issues that may be really contentious or upsetting with someone you love and still feel comfortable with them. i am working towards this, i think the ability to stay totally calm and civil in a disagreement would be a really nice skill to have. you could talk about anything!

however currently i'm not quite there. i am very reactive, especially so when i'm triggered. it's really hard for me to pause during arguments, i get so anxious because i don't know what's going to happen, and i WANT there to be a resolution. i WANT to finish the conversation and come to the end of this issue, whatever it is. but it is completely out of my control right now, which infuriates me. i need to work on my emotional regulation.

i really want to take up some sort of martial art for this. i have all this expendable energy in the form of anxiety and a reasonable amount of free time. i've been interested in it from a young age but i've done absolutely nothing athletic for like four years. (to give you a rough idea of how much i exercise - i go on probably four walks a week. up to one a day. there's a pull up bar in our apartment [OW, saying that hurts, 'our' feels like such a bite now] that i use. when we first got it i could do two; now i can do five!)

i am also 5'3 and 95 lbs. so i'm too small to compete. but i feel like a. i don't want to compete i want to be strong and badass and b. i gained 12 lbs when i went to college, if i could do it once i can do it again. also my doctor would probably be pretty happy.

but anyways! that's where i'm at. boyfriend is sleeping on the couch of his own volition, so, whatever, i guess. going into another day of not talking. i'm not reaching out to him because he told me, specifically, to leave him alone, but the longer it goes the worse i feel about the whole thing. there's nothing i can do, though, because any sort of reaching out is crossing his boundary.

it just sucks to feel this way. i wish he would tell me when we could talk again, instead of just icing me out completely. then i could at least push it out of my mind for a while.

i don't want to stop writing. if i stop writing i have to go to bed, and if i go to bed the night will pass so fast and then i'll be awake tomorrow and having to face another day so soon. i want to stay curled up in our (OW!) bed forever. i don't want to have to worry about him breaking up with me.

(also it's kinda funny i'm worried because like he broke up with me once already. for a week. and i lived through it. like, shouldn't i be mentally prepared for this?)

at this point i'm just rambling. it feels good though. i feel like i'm draining my brain into this post - blaaaghhhh here are all my insecurities blablablablaaaaaagghhhh!!!

i hate my job. i hate customer service. even though i got tipped (tipped!! for working front desk!!) $30 last week. being good at it doesn't make me any happier. i want to be fulfilled by it and i am so. not. however i am still getting my degree so that's basically my one option.

my mom mentioned a certification i'm going to look into, she said it's useful for finding work in the field. i think i'm going to switch my major; i just really want to go into project management. i know that might sound stupid but genuinely i think it's such an interesting field and i would be so happy to manage projects and teams and put together decks

#personal #i'm sure anyone in the project management field is probably laughing at me for thinking it'll be fun #i know it won't be but who cares i will enjoy it anyway!#don't know what i'm going to do about bf. well i do but i'm not happy about it. just going to keep leaving him alone.#even if it means i'm alone. that just means i need a friend #i tried to expand my horizons and hang out with a girl who invited me from instagram which went okay. and then a different girl #invited me to hang out on snap and i was like ok well second try i guess! and it went poorly again #personally i just didn't vibe with either of them. i also met them both with their other friends who i was also meeting for the first time.#either way i miss having tumblr mutuals. my old moots from the early days of my account kept me sane #if you're looking for a friend reach out! :)#i like to talk about anything but particularly philosophy chess writing art and music #not in that order #(sorry for lack of commas in that list)#i also just finished watching VEEP. so fucking funny #i watched succession and loved it #i play a lot of Rimworld and Barony in my free time #if you like this stuff we should be mutuals!! you won't regret it i promise #anyways tws incoming #tw suicide mention #tw weight mention #tw verbal abuse #tw child abuse

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strang3lov3 · 1 month

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Chevelle

Summary- (joel miller x virgin!reader) Joel figures out that you’re the one who hit his baby, his precious 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle. He needs you to make it right, but he doesn’t want your money ❤️‍🔥🍆 (5k words)

Tags- MDNI hot girls can’t drive, implied age gap, virgin!reader, we're calling him tender dark!joel, soft!dom joel, tender dubcon (power imbalance, joel solicits sex from reader, no explicit consent but reader is into it) reader has a luscious bush, Joel walks you through handjobs, blowjobs, fingering, oral, unprotected piv, creampie, come eating, loss of virginity. Joel is clothed and reader is not.

A/N- Writing this is how I spent my spring break. Hope you love it 🩵 Thank you @noxturnalpascal for all of your help editing and your encouragement.

Based on mine and @beefrobeefcal shared prompt where we asked, "What would happen if reader damaged Joel’s vehicle?” Her fic is here and it’s one of my favorite things I’ve read!! Kiki has such a beautiful voice in her writing and I love all the details she adds to her fics.

Pawn shop by @toxicanonymity came to mind when I wrote this story and was a source of inspiration. Also worth a read, I have nothing but love for Tox’s writing 🩷

It’s late when you get off your shift at Tony’s, the shitty Italian restaurant you’ve been working at for far too long. It doesn’t pay much and you’ve considered working a new job to save up and move out of your brother’s house, but you’ve been putting that idea off for a variety of reasons. One of them being Joel.

Joel’s your neighbor, a sexy, older man you’ve got a certain fondness for. His hair used to be more brown but it’s grayer now, same with the scruff on his face. He’s got sparkling, chocolatey eyes and a sharp nose set above a thick, downturned mustache. He always looks a little dirty when you see him, with dirt caked into his forehead wrinkles and grease smeared along his temple or his jaw. He’s always either fresh off a contracting job or working on his car. He’s got this cute little Chevy he spends his nights and weekends with, a 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle, baby blue.

Joel was one of the first people to welcome you to the neighborhood and even helped you move your stuff into your brother’s house, though helping you implies he let you do any work. Joel offered you a pop from his fridge and then took over entirely, putting both himself and your brother to work moving all of your stuff in. You didn’t lift a finger that day.

You can’t seem to pull your eyes from the little green glowing letters on your dash, watching letters and numbers on the screen roll on by. 12:37 A.M. 101.9. Paper Bag - Fiona Apple. You’re so out of it. You yawn and blink a couple of times, focusing back on the narrow roads of your neighborhood. It’s so poorly lit over here, and it doesn’t help that one of your headlights is out. Joel’s been bugging you to let him fix that, he says it’ll only take five minutes.

You turn onto your street and bam. You’re wide awake now. You just hit something.

You hit Joel’s car. Joel’s fucking car. What the fuck is it doing on the street? He always has it safely kept in his garage. Oh dear god, the panic is setting in. This is Joel’s baby. You just hit his baby, his pride and joy.

You can’t even bring yourself to assess the damage you’ve inflicted upon his dear Chevy. Probably dented to shit, but you don’t really wanna know. Instead, you just pull your foot off the brake, press your remote control garage door opener, then pull into your garage as you press your lips together tightly. You’re surprised and relieved to find that there’s hardly a scratch on your own car. Joel won’t know. He won’t.

The next morning, you’re sipping on your coffee as you check your mailbox. Joel’s outside his house, loading up his work truck with some tools and supplies. He waves to you and you wave back, a small stack of mail in your hand.

“Whose mail you got today, sweetheart?” he calls to you.

You check the names on some of the letters. “Davidsons’ and Pierces’,” you answer through a chuckle. Joel rolls his eyes and laughs. The incompetent mailman is a running joke amongst yourself, Joel, and your other neighbors. He never seems to deliver anything to the right address, so you and your neighbors are often hand delivering each other your misplaced mail.

You laugh with Joel until you notice his smile disappear. He’s narrowing his eyes on his Chevy. Your heart drops as he steps closer to the vehicle, then pinches his nose in frustration. Fuck. Joel stomps back to his work truck, haphazardly tosses something in the bed and then slams the tailgate. Yeah, he’s fucking pissed. Your neck and your face heat in shame as you quickly run back inside.

In the two weeks since Joel’s car was hit, he’s been working to repair it tirelessly. He’s ordered a new tail light, since whoever hit his car shattered it and he’s spent a pretty penny ordering the exact shade of baby blue paint to touch up all of the scratches. Joel only trusts himself to touch his car, but the situation necessitates that he’ll have to take it in to a local repair shop to get the dents out. Fucking fantastic.

When Joel gets off work tonight, he notices he’s got some packages on his doorstep, hoping it’s the shit he ordered for his car. He’ll open them shortly, but he first notices that one of the packages is addressed to you. Go figure, he thinks, chuckling to himself. He walks the package over to your house, noticing your car is parked outside of the driveway. And it’s backed in too, which is odd. Joel assumes your car must’ve been blocking your brother’s, so he probably played musical chairs with your cars to get his out and then backed yours up onto the driveway. You never back your own car in the driveway, and Joel’s pretty sure it’s because you don’t know how. You probably can’t parallel park, either. He’ll have to show you how to do that sometime.

What’s also new is a bit of baby blue paint on your red Honda Civic’s exterior, right by your headlight, the same headlight he’s been nagging you to let him fix. Joel bites the inside of his cheek. Interesting. He knocks on your door, package in hand, but he’s met with no answer. No biggie. He leaves the package on your porch and goes back to your car, inspecting the paint once more. He scoffs in astonishment and walks home. Unbelievable.

The next evening, you check your mailbox after forgetting to do so earlier. As always, you never have just your own mail. This time you’ve got Joel’s. You walk it over to Joel’s house with the intention of dropping it off on his porch and going back home, not wanting to bother him as he works on his Chevy but his whistle startles you. “Hey you,” he says. “C’mere.”

“O-oh,” you stutter. “I’m just dropping off your–”

“Yeah, I know. Just c’mere a minute,” Joel says. “Got a fuckin’ bone t’pick with you.”

Your palms are beginning to sweat. He doesn’t know anything. Maybe he just wants some company while he works on his car, it wouldn’t be the first time. But still, there’s something about his tone. You step off of his porch and cut through his lawn to get to his garage. Once inside, you help yourself to a root beer from his refrigerator. Something cold and fizzy and sweet to help you calm your nerves.“Oh, sure, help yourself,” Joel mumbles. He notices your fingers slipping off the tab of the pop can and pulls it from your hands, then opens it for you. He’s wearing a stained Prince and the Revolution t-shirt and a slightly too tight pair of jeans that squeeze his ass just so. His garage is decorated with old license plates, posters, other odds and ends.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Joel says nothing as he walks to his work bench. He pulls a lightbulb out of a cardboard box and waves it in your direction, he’s only a couple of feet from you. “Ordered the wrong bulb,” he tells you.

You can only nod. You think about maybe making a joke about the mailman screwing it up somehow, but you bite your tongue. You don’t trust yourself not to stutter right now.

“M’sure you saw, my baby here’s all banged up,” Joel puts the bulb back in the box and leans against his work bench, facing you. “Happened a couple weeks ago.”

“Mm,” you hum.

“Hit and run, can you believe that?”

“No, I can’t. That-that’s terrible.”

“I know it is. And here I thought we had a nice neighborhood…” he trails off before speaking again, “You think you know someone, huh.”

Someone. So he has someone in mind? “Yeah, it’s terrible…what happened to your car. Can’t believe someone would uh…would do that, knowing how you, your car…yeah. Terrible.”

Joel stares at you for a minute before speaking again, taking note of how you can’t seem to hold eye contact with him. He steps closer to you.

“You wouldn’t know a thing about it, right?”

“Yes,” you answer, quickly realizing your word mishap when Joel raises his eyebrows. “No, yeah. I don’t know–yeah, nothing,” you sip your root beer before fidgeting with the pop tab and shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Joel notices. “Squirmin’ an awful lot over there, sweetheart. You got something you wanna tell me?” You shake your head, still playing with the tab on the pop can. Joel removes it from your hand, his fingers gracing over yours before placing it on the workbench. He’s moving closer to you now, matching your pace as you walk backward until the back of your legs hit his car. You gasp, he stands so tall and imposing in front of you. “Easy,” he warns. “You be careful with her.”

“Yeah, I know. Always,” you reply. Your voice is beginning to shake.

Joel hums at your response. “Not always, though, sweetheart. Think you were pretty careless with my baby a couple weeks ago.”

The familiar pressure behind your eyes is beginning to build as tears are pricking your waterline, “I don’t know what–”

“Awh, don’t do that. Don’t lie t’me.”

The tears spill over. You’re caught. You don’t know how Joel figured out what you did, but he did. “You’ve got a guilty conscience, dontcha?”

You nod before you can speak. “I’m so sorry,” you cry. Sobs begin to wrack your body, your tears now flowing freely. You’re so guilty. You should’ve told Joel what happened that night. It was an accident, and he might’ve been mad, but you’ve probably made it worse for yourself with your dishonesty. “I’m so sorry, Joel, it was late and I was so tired–”

Joel pulls you in a tight embrace, stroking your back with his fingertips. “Shhh, I know. I know,” he whispers in your ear, “S’okay, sweet girl.”

“It was so…” you try to explain, choking on your sobs and your sniffles. “So late and d-dark and I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I know. Quit your cryin’, s’gonna be fine,” Joel whispers. He pulls away from you, looking at you with those deep brown eyes of his as he wipes the tears from your face with his thumbs. Know you’ll make it up to me.”

“I will,” you agree quickly. “I’ll pick up some more shifts, Joel, and I’ll save and–”

“Oh, no. Not that. Save your money,” he tells you earnestly. “Somethin’ else,” Your eyes follow Joel when he leaves you for a moment to flip a switch on the wall of his garage. Something in the air changes then, a thick, heavy feeling between you both when he makes his way back to you. “Use your head, sweetheart. How are we gonna make it right?”

Your mouth is dry, your tongue swollen as you pick up what Joel’s putting down. “Let me give ya a hint,” Joel grunts, sucking in his gut slightly as he unbuttons his jeans. He wears no underwear, a thatch of coarse hair littering his skin is what you see when he pulls down his zipper. He grips your wrist and shoves your hand beneath the denim where you feel his package, already half hard. It’s warmer, thicker than you would expect. He feels heavy in your palm, his pubic hair wiry and scratchy against your knuckles.

He doesn’t tilt his head in confusion at your hesitancy. “Don’t know what to do with all this, do ya?”

You shake your head no. “I’ve never…with anyone, before.”

“S’alright. I’ll walk ya through it all,” Joel says, seemingly unsurprised at the revelation. With your hand still on his cock, Joel pulls himself out of his jeans entirely. He’s harder now. “Like this,” he instructs, bringing your hand to his mouth and spitting in it. A pang of arousal fills your gut at the action. He pushes your hand lower and guides you to wrap your hand around his cock. It feels heavy, warm to the touch, sticky with his sweat and his saliva. Rock hard, but smooth like satin. You admire him, his blushed tip, the prominent veins on his shaft.

Your breath hitches as Joel takes control, using his strong, weathered hand to guide your own to massage his cock. “You got it,” he encourages, sensing your rigidity. “Tighter,” he instructs, squeezing his hand around yours. You’re slow to gain confidence but he’s patient, doing the work himself for now. “You move your hand all the way up, all the way down my cock,” he tells you.

You nod in understanding. Joel drops his hand but yours stays stroking his member. He sighs and tilts his head backward as you focus on the task at hand. Without the pressure of intense eye contact, you take the opportunity to admire him, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the small drops of sweat rolling down his throat. You’re shy when he smiles at you, quickly averting your attention from him and to his cock, watching the way it twitches beneath your hand, where a little bead of precum forms. Experimentally, you swipe your thumb over the tip. “That’s it,” he whispers, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. He ruts his hips into your hips, “Doin’ just fine.”

You stroke his cock like this for a while, gaining confidence in yourself until he stops you suddenly.

“Is that it?”

“Is that it,” Joel mocks with a feigned pout. “No, hon. You banged up my baby pretty good. We ain’t quite square yet.”

His leaking cock bounces against his tummy as he approaches his work bench. Your heart pounds as you can’t quite see what he’s reaching for. “Know it’s new to ya,” he says. “Just listen to me, s’all you gotta do.”

Joel returns to you with a dirty rag in his hand and lays it on the concrete ground, then reaches for your face. He pulls your bottom lip down and lets it go to watch it bounce back up. “Knees,” he whispers, gently pushing you by your shoulders to the ground. The rag he laid on the concrete for your knees is a sweet touch, all things considered. His cock is inches away from your face as he holds it between his thumb, middle, and forefingers. He presses himself to your lips, encouraging you to open your mouth. “Give it a taste,” he instructs you. “An’ you can kiss it too, if you’re feelin’ amorous.”

You part your lips and tentatively lick the weeping slit of his thick head just once. After a moment, taking in the saltiness of his precome, you lick him a couple more times, gaining confidence quicker than you did using just your spit soaked hand on him. Bigger stripes now, using more pressure. Like Joel advised, you kiss his cock a couple times, each kiss sloppier than the last before swirling your tongue around the tip. You’re learning it all, the softness of his skin, his musky, heady taste.

“Give me your hand,” Joel says. “Goes right here,” He wraps your hand around the base of his cock, same as before. He places one of his hands on your head, guiding you closer to him, encouraging you to take him deeper now. You do as such, sputtering and choking when you get overzealous and take him too quickly.

Joel chuckles, “Not all at once, sweetheart. Go slow. Try it again.” This time, Joel controls the pace at which you take him. He pushes himself into your mouth and senses when it becomes too much, pauses for you. He pulls his hips back, then rocks back into your mouth, building a slow, shallow pace for you to get used to.

He’s pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. His tip teases the back of your throat as he whispers, “Little more. Be brave,” You gaze up at him, searching his eyes for some sort of approval. He nods with his brows furrowed. “Do it for me, hon.”

You allow him to fuck himself deeper in your mouth now, your eyes pricking with tears as you gag and sputter on his cock. This time, Joel doesn’t stop himself. He’s grunting, groaning, savoring the warmth of your wet, soft mouth. “So good,” he tells you before tapping your hand, reminding you to put it to use.

What you can’t reach with your mouth, you massage with your hand as you cup his balls with your other. You and Joel work in tandem, him drawing in and out of your mouth as you bob your head and flick your tongue against his shaft. Your jaw is sore with the newness of it all, and just as you’re becoming used to the thickness of his cock between your lips and on your tongue, he pauses. “M’gonna stop you now,” Joel mumbles as he pulls out of your mouth, his eyes focused on your swollen lips and how the string of saliva connected from them to his cock breaks. “S’your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Mhm. It’s etiquette, hon,” Joel says with a grunt, lifting you to your feet. He reaches between your bodies and unbuttons your pants, pushing both them and your underwear down your legs. “Always return the favor.” Joel lifts you slightly, sitting your bare ass on the hood of his car, then pulls your pants off your legs the rest of the way. “Arms up,” he tells you. He lifts your shirt off of your body, unhooks your bra and lets it fall to your lap. You’ve never been so vulnerable, so exposed in front of someone before. Instinctively, you cover your chest with your arms and cross your legs.

“You’re shy,” he whispers. Joel drapes your clothing over his shoulder before reaching for your arms, removing them from your chest and placing them on either side of your body. “Stay like this,” He holds your knees next, uncrossing your legs and spreading them wide for his view.

Joel takes in your body and admires your wet cunt, how your thick curls frame it beautifully. A shiver goes down your spine as his eyes scan the rest of your body before he holds intense eye contact with you as he folds your clothes, placing them in a neat pile next to you on his car. You watch his chest rise and fall with steady breaths as he drops to his knees, situating himself between your thighs.

He presses a sloppy kiss against your inner knee, then another on your other leg. He kisses his way up your inner thigh, nipping at your flesh and soothing the marks with his tongue. He holds your legs firmly apart, knowing your instinct is to shut them when he reaches your cunt, his hot breath fanning over your center. “Wider,” he whispers, “I gotcha.”

The once cool metal of Joel’s car is now hot and slick under your sweaty, trembling palms. Your pulse beats as you look up at the garage ceiling, lacking the courage to look at Joel between your thighs. “Relax for me,” he tells you. You try.

You gasp when he finally begins exploring you, first his thumb parting open your folds. Adding a couple more digits, he hums in satisfaction as he finds you’re already wet, your slick glistening on his fingers. He dips one of those fingers inside of you slowly, watching how you react to his touch. You twitch and fight to keep yourself still and silent as he adds a second finger, curling it rhythmically and stroking that sweet spot inside you.

“Oh, god,” you moan as he dives into your cunt, the soft and warm, private place between your thighs, his mouth now joining where his fingers touch. His tongue is hot and wet as he drags it through your sex, circling your clit with it. “Joel, please.”

Joel’s satisfied as he hears sounds of pleasure fall from your lips, feeling your hips bucking and grinding gently against his mouth. He sucks one fold, nips at the other as he curls his fingers inside you rhythmically. With the hand that’s not teasing your pussy, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thigh. “Quit squirmin’ on my car,” he warns with a firm squeeze to your thigh, hard enough to bruise you. “Ya tryin’ to scratch her again?”

His wiry stubble drags across your skin, scratching gently against the inside of your thighs. You can feel it building up quickly, that hot, sparkling feeling deep in your core as he works you, sucks your clit between his lips.

“Please,” you cry, the only word you can form at the moment.

“I know, hon,” he murmurs, escalating his efforts on your pussy. Sucking, licking, curling his fingers harder. He works you through your orgasm, feeling you gush against his mouth, your arousal dripping down his fingers and pooling into the palm of his hand. Your hands fly to his scalp, twitching and jerking from the sensitivity with your fingers tugging on his curls when he licks a stripe up the seam of your cunt.

Joel pulls away from your center with a satisfied grin, lips shiny, his facial hair damp. He rises, standing above you, and sloppily kisses your lips. You’ve never tasted your own arousal before. His strong hands find your ass cheeks, pulling you closer to where he wants you.

From there, you gasp when he slides his cock through your slick folds, rubbing thick head against your sensitive clit and watches how you react to his touch. “What do you think I’m doin’ to ya next?”

“Joel,” you whimper, your hips chasing his movements, following where his cock teases your cunt.

“Yeah, you know what I’m doin,” he purrs. “Crossin’ it all off your list tonight.”

You tense when he notches just the head of his cock in your pussy, reaching for his arm, his shoulder, any part of him you can hold.

“Know you’re nervous,” he says softly, rubbing circles into your thighs. “But s’just me an’ you here. Wider, hon. Spread your legs for me.”

You nod quickly, following suit and spreading your legs to accommodate him. “Like this?”

“Yeah, like that. S’perfect, hon, that’s all I need from you. C’mere,” Joel adjusts his hold on you before inching his cock into you a bit more. You’re so tight, squeezing him hard and whining through the stretch as he pushes into you further, the gradual slide inside your body causing him to grunt quietly. “Relax for me,” he groans through a strained breath, parting your insides as he’s sheathed himself inside you fully now. “Bite me f’ya need to, sweetheart. It’ll be okay. You’ll get used to it.”

It aches, but the pain dulls as Joel lets you get used to the feeling, the newness of his cock inside you. He holds you close and you take advantage of his suggestion, biting softly into the flesh of his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin as you whimper quietly. Joel groans, his eyebrows furrowing together. “Shh,” he hushes, “You’re okay, hon. You’re doin’ alright.”

Joel slowly pulls out of you and fills you up again. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he praises as you tilt your hips, opening yourself to accept more of him. You’re humming into his neck as his cock recedes and then pushes in once more. “Eyes on me now. There it is, easy. Easy.”

You do as instructed, pulling your face away from him to meet his gaze. His sparkling brown eyes stay on yours as he pulls out of you, pushing into you slowly, deliberately. You hold onto his neck, his broad shoulders, clutching the fabric of his sweat dampened shirt as he builds a steady pace now. He holds you close to his body, one of his hands traveling up your body and groping your bouncing breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples.

“You just follow my lead,” Joel says, fucking you faster now. His fingers are pressed firmly into your waist now as he rolls his hips against yours. The pain is gone now, dissipated with his continued languid thrusts into you. You feel so full, so satisfied with his thick cock inside you, massaging your insides.

He fucks you steadily but gently, maintaining a quick rhythm. You didn’t know sex could make you feel this way, so much pleasure. You’re moaning freely, overwhelmed with emotion, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. God, you love it, and it’s nothing but pure pleasure.

Joel’s not oblivious to your enjoyment. He’s watching you, your face contorting, he’s listening to your moans and your cries, feeling you shiver and twitch beneath his touch and how it’s all because of him, all of your pleasure at the hands of Joel and only ever Joel. He feels a sort of carnal sense of power over this, the effect his touch has on you. You’re soft, so soft and all for him, your flesh for his hands and his teeth alone to squeeze, dig into, to bite on.

You reach for his arm and guide his hand to your center, pressing his fingers against your clit as that familiar tightness in your gut begins to build once more. “Please,” you beg.

“Thought this was supposed to be a deal for me. Didn’t need to hit my car f’ya needed me like this,” he taunts, laughing breathlessly. But Joel obliges, of course he obliges you. He moves his calloused fingertips in circles over your clit, coaxing out your release. “Takin’ me so good, sweetheart. Look at you, m’gonna make you come again. Makin’ out like a fuckin’ bandit, aren’t you?”

Indeed you are. It’s not long before you’re coming for him. With his ministrations on your clit, his thrusts now faster, harder, deeper, you’re coming undone for him as his name pours from your lips, long and slow like honey. With your lips parted open, you’re twitching and shuddering against him as you watch his face, letting yourself go. You whimper and moan, and your release is volcanic in the way it washes over your body so fiercely. Heavy, vivid waves of pleasure washing over you the way lava rolls down the earth. Slow, fiery, intense.

Your pulsing cunt milks Joel’s own climax, his orgasm crashing through him in such a way that he loses focus on you. His eyes screwed shut, the noises he’s making louder than he intended–what starts as a grunt turns into a moan, long and libertine as he fucks you harder than he probably should as you whimper in overstimulation. His thrusts turn harder and frenzied as he milks himself with your cunt, spurting hot ropes of his come inside you. You take everything he gives you, feeling so warm and full of his spend.

His movements then begin to ease, slowing down some more until he eventually stills inside of you. He takes the quiet moment to check on you, holding your face in his hands as he makes sure you’re okay. Your chest heaves as he wipes your tears, but you silently nod, reassuring him that you’re alright.

With a soft grunt, he pulls out of you. He watches how your combined arousal spills on the baby blue paint of his Chevelle, then uses his thumb to push a bit of his escaped come back inside you. Such a lewd action from the man.

Joel helps you to your feet, steadying you as you stand on shaky legs. He reaches for your clothes from the hood of his car, helping you dress yourself. “Didn’t want ‘em to get dirty,” he explains. “Everything’s covered in fuckin’ dirt and grease in here.”

“Thank you,” you smile shyly. Joel opens the garage door, the once peachy and blue sky now inky black. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You take off back to your house, but Joel grips your bicep before you can step any further.

“Nuh uh,” he tuts. “Ya already hit my car, hon, you don’t wanna leave your mess on the hood now too, do ya?” Joel gestures to your combined arousal on the hood of his Chevelle, swipes his pointer finger through the mess and pushes it between your lips. Your brows furrow at the taste, that salty, heady flavor you’ve never tasted before now. “Use your tongue, sweetheart.”

“You want me…”

“Lick it up,” he instructs in a quiet voice. Joel figured he might’ve let you off too easy, seeing as how you came twice–once on his tongue and once on his cock when this was all supposed to be for him. He bends you over the hood of his car, groping your ass as he leans over your shoulder to inspect your work, making sure it’s a job well done. “Good girl,” he praises, watching you lick his car clean. When you’re done, he kisses you softly.

He walks you home, dropping you off on your doorstep. You’re not quite sure what to say, whether you should apologize again, thank him, say goodnight. Joel fills the silence for you. “Gonna teach you how to drive right one of these days. Keep you out of another mess like this one, hm?” he smirks as he kisses your cheek. “Goodnight, hon.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog, leave me a comment, and/or send an ask 🩷 your words mean the world to me and your interaction keeps me motivated to write. Love you all <3

From now on I’ll be sharing cat pics at the end of my fics. Hope you don’t mind 🐈‍⬛😻

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller fic #joel tlou #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x virgin reader

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gimmethatagustd · 3 months

Text

morals on sundays | myg

You're still in love with your ex-boyfriend. Yoongi offers some help to get over him.

○ Pairing: BFF!Yoongi x f!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Friends with benefits, angst, smut, fluff

○ 6 / 100 Drabble Challenge (FWB)

○ Word Count: 2,177

○ Warnings: MC's boyfriend cheated on her, post-breakup blues, questionable decision making, fingering so good you'll try to run away from it, pussy eating, too much tongue sucking probably, Yoongi is a boob guy, they have matching Spongebob and Patrick coffee mugs so why aren't they married?? Idiots

○ Notes: Shout out to @sailoryooons for also writing about a daegu boy eating pussy tonight 😌 And, as usual, I wrote this with scrambled eggs for brains and didn't proofread it, so if you see any errors, no you didn't

○ Post Date: January 22, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? Imported - Jessie Reyez ft. 6LACK

Lately, you’ve felt like disappearing – not into a crowded city street in another country or down an unlit dirt road into the unknown, but into the warm folds of Yoongi’s hoodie. You’re already halfway there, with your fingers interlaced with his, shoved into the large front pocket, and your face tucked into his shoulder.

“Fuck, I hate taking the bus,” he curses, his words turning into a cloud that disappears into the cold air.

“How much time do we have?”

Yoongi turns his head, and his lips briefly touch the cold curve of your ear.

“You’re mumbling. What’d you say?”

“How much time until it comes?” You squint up at him, cheek still pressed against his shoulder. It’s too warm here to want to move.

“Can’t check the app on my phone unless you give me my hands.”

“No.”

Yoongi chuckles and jostles your head by bobbing his shoulders.

“I thought our date would cheer you up.” His complaint is playful, eyes sparkling in the streetlights when he returns his gaze to the empty road. You should have gotten a taxi.

“I’m gonna die alone. Doesn’t matter how much late-night pizza I eat or how many stupid action movies I watch,” you grumble into Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Even when the action movie lead has a super hot sex scene that’s poorly timed and irrelevant to the plot?”

“Nope.”

“Even when the coolest guy on the entire planet was the one who took you?” Yoongi smiles cheekily, his gaze back on you. He wiggles his shoulders again, hard enough to bounce your head.

Annoyed, you straighten up, hands still shoved in his pockets. The movie wasn’t that bad. The pizza was actually great. You’re just depressed.

“I didn’t think it would take this long…” You whisper into the little space between your body and Yoongi’s. He knows you aren’t talking about the bus.

Yoongi squeezes your hands inside his hoodie. The rest of you might be freezing in the winter night air, but at least Yoongi keeps your hands warm. He keeps your heart warm, too, with his sincere gaze when he looks at you.

“You were too good for him.”

Yoongi’s right. He’s always right.

You’re sufficiently frozen by the time the bus finally arrives. Yoongi pays for you both because he’s trying to make life easy. No bumps in the road, no unnecessary stress. He lets you sit in a window seat so you can stare out at the blurry night scenery and have your sad main character moment for as long as it takes to get to your apartment.

Once you arrive, he follows you inside and heads straight to the kitchen while you slump down the hall to your bedroom. The cold seeps so deeply into your bones that the sweatpants and sweater you change into barely help increase your body temperature.

Maybe it’s because the sweatpants and sweater are your ex-boyfriend’s, and the universe wants to keep your body as cold as his heart was.

In the kitchen, Yoongi uses a wooden spoon to stir hot chocolate in a small pot, your favorite kind that comes in a block of chocolate that melts with milk. It’s likely been years since Yoongi has made you hot chocolate. Cozy winter nights indoors were once commonplace, the two of you alternating between apartments to make each other snacks and treat cuddles like currency. The appearance of your ex put an end to the comfort you shared with Yoongi. It put an end to most things that brought you comfort.

As you expect, Yoongi has two mugs out on the counter. You reach for yours, twisting it in your hands as you wait for him to finish.

“Remember when Spongebob tried to become best friends with Squidward instead of Patrick?” Yoongi asks, turning off the stove. He uses a ladle to pour hot chocolate into his pink mug, then pours some into your yellow one.

“Yes.”

“He was Squidward. I’m just mad I didn’t get to blow up his house–” Yoongi laughs and nearly spills his drink when you smack him in the arm, “–with bubbles! With bubbles. I’m not homicidal.”

Rolling your eyes, you set down your mug next to Yoongi’s, both drinks too hot to drink quickly.

“Thank you,” you mumble, hooking your finger into his hoodie pocket and tugging lightly, the action absentminded. You keep your eyes cast downward because you don’t want him to see your tears if they run. “I’m sorry I’ve been in such a shitty mood. I know it’s been a while, but, it just… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about him, and everything fucking hurts…”

Yoongi slips his fingers under your sleeve and circles your wrist, pulling your hand away from his pocket so he can lace your fingers together. They’re so much warmer now, defrosted by the heat blasting through your apartment and Yoongi’s hot chocolate.

“Maybe you could start by not wearing his clothes?” Yoongi offers quietly. “Can’t imagine it’s easy to get over someone when you keep them on your body like that.”

You sniffle and nod. Again, Yoongi is always right.

“Easier said than done…” you mumble, giving him a weak smile when you finally meet his eyes. There’s something there in his expression, something that seems different.

You don’t move away when Yoongi steps closer, even when he has you backed against the counter, even when you feel like you’re going to swallow your heart.

“I could take them off for you,” Yoongi says softly. He lets go of your sleeve to pinch the hem of your sweater, tugging it lightly. “If you can’t do it, I can.”

“Yeah?” You feel out of breath, maybe because you suck in your stomach when Yoongi’s fingers brush against it.

“Yeah,” he echoes, fingers sliding along your ribs as he pushes your sweater up. “So you can get over him.”

It’s a terrible idea, but your stomach flutters when he looks at you with sleepy eyes weighed down by the late hour and lust. He bites his bottom lip, and you feel your resolve slip as easily as Yoongi’s fingers do beneath your clothes.

“I want to.” The declaration is desperate, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare into Yoongi’s eyes with an all-consuming sadness that eats at your insides, gnawing on bones and biting holes into your lungs. “God, Yoongi, I want to.”

Yoongi touches his forehead to yours, making you close your eyes because he’s too close and you’re too much of a coward.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers. His voice is as gentle as his hands on your bare waist, his thumbs caressing your sensitive skin.

You raise your arms for Yoongi to pull off your sweater. He’s confident when he squeezes your tits, doesn’t even seem caught off guard when he realizes you’re not wearing anything under the sweater. He brushes his thumbs over your nipples as he leans in to kiss you, his tongue tasting sweet from the hot chocolate when he flicks it against yours.

“Yoongi,” you call out with an airy sigh that harmonizes nicely with the sound of him sucking open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

“Hmm?” Yoongi hums against the base of your throat, the vibration sending a tingling sensation straight to your clit. He keeps one hand on the counter beside your waist, caging you in, while his other hand cups your pussy over your sweatpants.

“Oh,” you gasp, your hands immediately finding Yoongi’s firm shoulders when he starts rubbing your clit, occasionally dipping his fingers lower to press against your entrance, soaking the fabric.

“These are his, too, right?”

“Y-yes,” you moan as Yoongi pulls down your sweatpants, taking your underwear with them.

You can’t say you never thought about how attractive Yoongi is; it’s hard to ignore. It’s just that Yoongi is your best friend. If anything were to happen between the two of you, you don’t know if you’d be able to survive losing him, too. You love him.

But you also love your ex.

It’s hard to think about that, though, with two of Yoongi’s fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. They’re long, reaching deeper than your own can when you finger yourself, always late at night when you’re lonely. It never feels good after. The clarity always seems to hit too quickly, like being dunked in a pool of ice water.

Three months. That’s how long it’s been since another person touched you, since you found out your ex-boyfriend had been cheating on you. You didn’t realize how much you missed it until you’ve got your head thrown back and your thighs quivering as Yoongi fucks you with his fingers. You nearly climb up the counter, both wanting him to touch you more and trying to get away because it’s too good.

Your ex never searched for the spot that would make your legs shake, but Yoongi does. He curls his fingers against your front wall and keeps up his rhythm, moving with your body when you can’t control where it goes.

“Fuck, right there.” You’re burning up, veins turned to lava that’s rushing toward your core as Yoongi fucks you closer and closer to your orgasm until you’re on the verge of tears because you haven’t been touched in so long and you’re so lonely and you weren’t good enough. You weren’t enough.

“Wanna make you cum,” Yoongi groans, deep and gravelly, between licking a stripe up your tits and sucking your nipples.

“Please,” you moan, “Please, I’m so close.”

Your arousal gushes around his fingers, slicking them up and making your pussy squelch when Yoongi flutters them inside you. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, almost too hard. It stops you from bucking your hips, but you can barely stand as it is.

Yoongi’s lips are back on yours, red from sucking your nipples until it hurt. He whispers against your lips and opens his mouth to let you suck on his tongue with a pathetic whimper.

“Not yet, though.”

“Wha– Yoongi, no–” It’s embarrassing how loudly you cry out when Yoongi slips his fingers out of your pussy. You feel the fire in your core simmer until you’re left with a painfully throbbing clit and your juices smeared on your inner thighs.

“Shhh, you know I always take care of you.” Yoongi shuts you up with a bite to your bottom lip. He leans down slightly to squeeze the backs of your thighs and hoist you up onto the counter. “Lean back.”

The cold marble counter sends shivers across your body, but it can’t keep up with the heat of Yoongi’s mouth on your pussy. He kisses your lips so gently that you think you might actually cry before he pushes your thighs back, opening you up.

“Oh fuck,” you moan as Yoongi goes straight for your clit, sucking on it as he swirls his tongue around it. You dig your hands into his hair and tug the strands hard enough to make him moan into your pussy. “Use your, use–”

Yoongi laps at your clit in quick, consistent bursts that fall in line with the tempo he’s fucking you to with two fingers again. His free hand presses against your lower abdomen, keeping your body taunt so you don’t buck into his face or curl inward. It’s bad enough that you can’t stop your legs from shaking when one rests on his shoulder and the other drapes over the crook of his arm.

It’s messy and loud, Yoongi licking and sucking your pussy like he really is trying to empty your mind of everything but the way the tip of his hot, wet tongue feels swirling your clit and the stretch of his fingers when he slips a third inside you and focuses on massaging the sensitive part of your walls. It’s working. He completely consumes your senses, down to how gorgeous he looks staring at you from between your thighs.

Your Yoongi, fingerfucking you and sucking your clit like you’re his favorite meal.

You try not to bang your head against the counter when you finally cum, instead focusing the overwhelming energy into pulling Yoongi’s hair to keep his face in your pussy.

He continues fucking you with his fingers through your orgasm, to the point that you can’t lie still any longer.

“Yoongi, oh my god, Yoongi, it’s too much,” you whimper and gasp, thighs closing around his head until he finally eases his fingers out of you.

Strings of your arousal connect his lips with your pussy until he swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, cutting them off. His bangs are pushed off his forehead and his hair sticks up from you pulling on it, but his eyes sparkle and his cheeks are just as rosy as his pink, slicked-up lips.

“Shit,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning over you on the counter to kiss you. He shoves his tongue in your mouth and lets you suck your juices from it.

You think you taste better on Yoongi’s tongue than on your ex’s.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

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shaytheantagonist · 15 days

Text

My Roman Empire is how the life series writes itself. Here are some coincidences that I think about frequently:

1. Every person who has ever won a life series (Real Life included) was paired with another winner in Double Life (Grian & Scar, Scott & Pearl, Martyn & Cleo)

2. Several members had patterns in their deaths in Secret Life (All of Grian’s deaths happened while a large portion of the remaining server members were present, all of Scott’s deaths were arranged & he let whoever killed him kill him, all of Etho’s deaths were from Scar killing him, all of Jimmy’s deaths were from mobs of increasing strength (drowned, dragon & warden), all of Mumbo’s deaths were because of poor walking (walked off a ledge, walked into lava, walked into his own fence posts) & all of Martyn’s deaths happened in different dimensions)

3. Jimmy being out first 4 times in a row

4. Grian winning 3rd Life & then being dead last in the VR recreation of 3rd Life

5. Mumbo always having his final death moments after Jimmy’s final death

6. Pearl & Scar winning their seasons after being the underdog the entire season & having it the hardest

7. The first interaction Etho & Joel had in the entire life series was while they were in boats

8. Every time Scott is in the final two, whoever loses dies to a mob they didn’t know was behind them (Ren in Last Life, Scott in Real Life)

9. Jimmy always cursing at least one of his allies to do horribly each season (3rd Life was Scott’s lowest placement ever, 10th. Last Life: both Mumbo & Impulse were in the bottom 4. Double Life: Tango played poorly and was responsible for 2/3 of their deaths. Limited Life, Joel was out third & The Bad Boys died A LOT. Secret Life: Martyn was the first yellow AND the first red despite literally winning the previous season. EVEN REAL LIFE, Jimmy teamed with Grian, Joel, Scar & Impulse, who were the first 4 to be eliminated.)

10. Since Double Life, Pearl has wanted her allies to win the current seasons, she has outlived all of her main allies every season since then (Big B in Limited Life & Mumbo, BDubs & Joel in Secret Life)

11. Joel literally & metaphorically being the reason Lizzie was the first one out instead of Jimmy in Secret Life (Lizzie only died because she was trying to kill Scott to help out with Joel’s assassin task, by the time she tried to kill him & died in the process, Joel had already failed his task & just hadn’t told her yet, so if he had told her that he had failed, she wouldn’t have taken Scott to the end & fallen into the void & Jimmy probably would’ve first out again. Also when they were hosting an early funeral for Jimmy, Joel opened the grave & told Jimmy to “Rise”, I think this was Joel unknowingly breaking the curse.)

12. The fact that Gem’s final death is always her coming 3rd & dying in a 2v1 situation.

13. Joel’s first death in Last Life was fall damage, his first death in Secret Life was also fall damage. The reason Joel ended up on red life in Last Life was because of the Boogeyman curse (both times), in Secret Life, he because red because of being killed by a Boogeyman. In Last Life Joel’s final death was at the hands of Scott, causing him to place 5th, in Secret Life, Joel’s final death was being killed by Scott, causing him to place 5th. I’m leaving out one of Joel’s Last Life deaths, specifically when he died to Mumbo in self defence, but that’s mostly cuz there are more deaths in Last Life than Secret Life

This isn’t even all of them, there are so many more!

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