#45 Things that make me bitter

[toruro]

— ✧ idubilu

pairing. xu minghao x reader

description. obligatory company dinners are never much fun, but you understand that your husband has to go through with them at the end of each month anyways. luckily, he knows just how to make it up to you once you two get home.

genre. smut (18+ / mdni) tags under the cut, ceo & husband minghao, fluff

w/c. 2.8k

a/n. yk i don’t rly like pwp but i needed to pay homage to the idubilu choreo. that's it.

✘ tags. oral (f receiving), petnames (princess, pretty), they're just rly horny 4 each other lol, reader wears a suit and she is SEXY! ✘ taglist. @synthetickitsune @ixayjun @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @ming-h0e @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @marzmeltdown @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @hipsdofangirl @nikkixpenguin @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @whippedforjihoon @yunjinified @nishloves @woozarts @ellesmoon @blurryriki @maknae00 @jjjzzzz @marzmeltdown @peachyaeger @shoulietaro (strikethrough could not be tagged) join my taglist here!

A tight lipped smile is the only thing you’re wearing tonight. Well, that and a stiff pair of dress pants and button up shirt; usually you opt for wearing dresses to these sorts of things, but the one you’d picked out earlier was itchy in all the worst spots and really, you couldn’t bother to choose another one so you settled for this suit. It’s definitely more comfortable, but your feet still ache in the confines of your heels as you wrap your fingers around the cool glass of champagne.

Your husband is in the corner of your vision, talking to some associate as you stand by the buffet table, as you contemplate if you even have the stomach to eat anything right now. You’re overreacting—you know you are—but after long hours at work and an even longer hours trying to clean up the mess your cat had made at home, you’re not the least bit thrilled to spend your evening hours (the ones you usually spend curled up by Minghao’s side) here.

The champagne fizzles out on your tongue when you take a sip, sighing as you lean against the wall. You want to leave, that much is obvious. Minghao can sense it from across the room—the way your arms are crossed over your chest and you look down at your shoes, only glancing up to flicker your eyes at him and then the clock.

“45 more minutes,” you mutter to yourself when he finally excuses himself and walks over with a plate of food in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says lowly when he’s finally within ear shot. “I know you hate coming to these.”

You let your shoulders deflate a little when you hear the sincerity in your voice, reminding yourself that this is your husband. “No it’s … it’s fine, these shoes just hurt,” you tell him honestly, shifting your weight from leg to leg as Minghao hands you his plate.

“Sit down and eat. I’ll wrap this up in half an hour and then we can leave.” You frown, taking the plate from his hands. “And remind me to get you new shoes if these ones suck—you know I hate seeing you in pain.”

You roll your eyes as he follows you to the nearest empty table in the hall. “Simp,” you tease, slipping into a seat and begrudgingly stuffing your face with one of the hor d’oeuvres.

“Whatever you say princess,” he sighs, stepping back. “I’ll be back in a bit, and then we’ll get going, ‘kay?” You nod and he walks off with a final wave, just as bored as before but a little less bitter. After all, Minghao’s sweet words and kind promises always leave a warm feeling budding in your heart.

Still, the next thirty minutes are long. You watch him not too discreetly now, getting lost in yourself as the night progresses. Minghao has long ditches his black coat, and is instead donned in a simple set of black pants and white shirt, nearly perfectly matching you. It’s a kind thought that occupies your mind for the remainder of your time—the fact that you and Minghao match each other perfectly.

You’re left with you and your thoughts, and although it’s a long wait, relief waves over your form when you hear Minghao thank everyone for coming. You make your way to his side while he does so, his arm secured around your waist as the two of you bow and wave everyone out as they shuffle out the room until it’s just the two of you left.

“Oh god, I thought I’d never get to take these off,” you huff, sitting on one of the round tables once everyone’s gone, slipping the tight heels over your sore feet. Your husband watches you sympathetically as he tucks his phone back into his pocket, workers making their way into the hall to clean up.

“I told you, we can go get new ones. Let’s go home now though,” he says, holding a hand out as you reach down to pick up your shoes. Minghao scrunches his nose up when you put your bare feet on the ground. “Ew. Don’t do that!”

You frown. “Why not! My feet hurt and I don’t care if it’s dirty—I can’t stand it anymore!”

Minghao sighs and shakes his head, and for a moment you think you’ve won this battle but then he’s turning around and tapping at his back. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“I am not g—”

Minghao shoots you a warning look, and you suddenly realize you’re too exhausted to care that much anyways. “I’ll give you a treat.”

Your tummy tumbles, and you’re glad he’s turned away so he can’t see the shit eating grin that creeps onto your lips. You don’t exactly understand what Minghao means by a treat as you climb onto his back, but when he secures his arms under your legs, you learn that you don’t need to.

You trust Minghao, more than anyone if you’re being honest, so as you curl your face into his neck as he carries you out of the company building and to the car, finally driving you home, you sit and smile because you know whatever he’s going to give you, you’re going to love it just as you love him.

So yeah, you’re not exactly surprised when Minghao pushes you onto the soft covers of the bed as soon as you enter your house, but then again, you’re not complaining either.

“You look really sexy in a suit,” Minghao murmurs, climbing on top of you as his fingers find his way up your pants and by its waistband.

“You don’t like it when I wear dresses?” you muse, shuffling up onto your elbows so you can lift your hips, Minghao yanking your pants down as you do.

“I do,” he says casually, sitting back on his heels as you kick the pants off and onto the ground, leaving your legs bare as Minghao settles between them. Slowly, he runs his fingers over them, the ghost of a touch as he traces over the inside of your thighs, circles around your knees, and smooths over your shins before finally curling them around your ankles.

You grow limp under him, letting his strong arms lift your legs up high as he runs his soft lips over the flesh of your calves. He whispers into your skin, the hot breath sending a ripple of shivers coursing through you. “Dresses are nice … but suits … fu-u-uck,” he draws out, placing open mouthed kisses down the inside of your legs.

You whimper when he shuffles down the bed and presses his face between your thighs, lips moving rougher and more fervent as he nips and lips at the skin. Minghao wants to drown himself in you—wants you to be the only thing he can taste on his tongue, wants you to be the only thing he can smell as he buries himself in the beauty between your legs.

“Fuck,” he groans, peeling himself away for a moment to stare down at you—your shirt is half unbuttoned, revealing the peek of your cleavage, and your lips are puffy, eyes blown out and hair all strewn as you await for more.

There aren’t words exchanged as Minghao starts to tug at his tie that’s starting to feel all too tight, the silk fabric tumbling between his deft fingers as he pulls it to the side and lets it fall onto the bed. He’s working through but buttons next, starting by the collar and working his way down, and you find yourself growing lost into sight of him.

From the way his adam’s apple bounces and jaw clenches when you whimper, to the way his shirt falls from his shoulders and leaves his pretty chest on display—you’re fucking entranced. Minghao rolls his neck back once, flashing you a hint of his chiseled jawline before craning his head back down and sucking your lips into a deep kiss.

His hands smooth under your shirt and press against your stomach as you grip at his firm shoulders as he mumbles against your lips, “Lemme eat you out.” God, the way he says it is so crude and so dirty, but fuck, if it doesn’t have you nuzzling your nose into his and nodding as your eyes flutter shut …

Minghao moves slowly, and it’s around now that you’d usually start to get impatient; you’d start to whine and squirm, chanting his name in hopes to get him to speed it up. Something in the air is different tonight, and as you close your eyes, you bask in the feeling of his body moving down yours.

You drink in the sounds of his soft pants and echoes of his mouth sucking against your exposed skin. Minghao is meticulous—he always is. It’s how he rose to the top in practically everything he did, and it’s how he’s making you crumble beneath his palms right now.

Your limbs move together in tandem, like you were both built for each other and each other only, bodies intertwining in a heated yet perfect mess as Minghao wraps his arms under your thighs and over your hips when you pull your soiled panties off. He’s done this more times than you can count, but not once has not left you in awe when he licks the first fat stripe.

Minghao knows you well—so, so well—better than yourself, you would add with no hesitation. He knows how to make you smile, knows how to make you laugh, knows how to make you writhe beneath him.

When his tongue delves between your folds and he sucks against the sensitive flesh, Minghao knows exactly what he’s doing. You glance down, finally parting your eyes, and are met with the sight of Minghao’s own heavy lids, and your stomach churns in the realization that he truly is enjoying this as much as you are.

Moans break free from your throat as he slides his tongue up and down, flicking against your clit and making out against your gaping cunt. The words on your tongue come out in a mangled mess, and Minghao can’t really understand what you’re saying, but then again, he doesn’t need to because he loves it.

Loves the way you’re whining from just a few subtle movements, loves how you chant his name like it’s the only word you know—fuck, Minghao loves everything goddamn thing about you and it’s driving him fucking crazy.

Minghao watches you grind upwards to meet the pace of his tongue and lips—it’s perfect. “The best,” he groans, parting his lips from your cunt for a moment so you can hear him better, although he’s not sure you’re even paying attention.

Your neck is thrown back and one hand is threaded through his hair, the other gripping at one of your exposed tits as white noise rushes through your ears. “Could live here,” Minghao says, not really to you but more to himself as he gazes down at your shiny folds before diving back in.

You, you, you, is all Minghao can think, and as he snakes one hand up your stomach, gripping at your other unattended breast, fingers flexing and clenching around the bouncy flesh. “Oh—Hao!” you whine out when he pinches your nipple. It’s not rough or harsh, but you’re so sensitive all over that even the brush of his hair against your skin has you jerking into his touch.

The cry of his name only eggs him on, and Minghao finds his eyes shutting tight as digs his face deeper and deeper into your slobbering core. Through the sucking, through the lapping, through the borderline making out with your cunt, Minghao starts to talk.

He tells you how good you taste, how pretty you sound, how fucking hard he is—his princess, that’s what he calls you. His pretty, pretty princess. Minghao doesn’t even know if you can hear him, but he also knows it doesn’t matter.

You’ll understand.

Minghao knows you’ll understand because everytime you moan his name, his hold on your tits tightens and his lips move with more and more vigor until you’re pulsing—fuck, he hasn’t even stuck anything in yet and you’re already being driven damn close to insanity.

It comes out in broken sobs—“‘m gonna cum, H-H-Hao! ‘m g’na—fuck!”

And he responds with equal passion, mutter into your wetness to, “Do it—fucking do it.”

Minghao devours you through the high that permeates your body, and you feel he might as well swallow you whole with the way his hands are all over you and the way you’re tugging at his hair (it’s painful, but Minghao concludes that this is the best kind of pain).

And then he’s kissing you, your sweet arousal mixing in a mess of both of your saliva as your tongues clash together. Your cheeks are wet as they press against each other and there you two are, rolling around on the sheets until your head is spinning, partly from the buzz of your orgasm but mainly from the pure passion that surges through your blood.

Your hands are in his hair, on his chest, sinking into his back, fumbling with his pants—they’re everywhere because, fuck, you just need to feel him. Minghao is no different because he’s also everywhere—unclipping your bra but still keeping your shirt on, sliding his hands over your tits and pressing against your neck, grinding into you as you shove his pants and boxers down.

You’re on top of him when he’s finally kicked his pants off, grinding down on the massive hard-on he’s wearing, swiveling your hips as he grips onto your tits as if they were a lifeline. “Put it in pretty,” Minghao moans, tweaking one nipple between his fingers as he uses his other hand to tap his thick, leaking cock against the base of your stomach.

He doesn’t need to tell you twice, and you’re pressing forward and lifting your hips. Again, Minghao knows you well. So well that it hardly takes him a second to find your dripping hole, aligning himself with you before jutting upwards.

You cry out at the sensation, sinking down on him almost immediately as your lips meet for another fervent kiss. It’s maddening, really, the way your clit rubs against his pelvis as you carefully rock your hips forward once you get adjusted to his side.

You moan into each other’s mouths and drink up the pleasure because that’s all you two know—in this moment, it’s only you and Minghao.

It’ll only ever be you and Minghao, because no one’s gonna be able to carve the shape of their cock into you like he’s doing so well right now. No one’s gonna lift their hips and swivel right back down, sucking him in and clenching him so tight like you’re doing so well right now. No one’s gonna ever share a moment like the two of you do right now, and as Minghao paws at your waist and threads his fingers into your hair, you both don’t need to say it, but you know.

Skin against skin echoes in symphony with your broken gasps and choked sobs as you begin to bounce over Minghao. He’s got you in a grip like a vise as he murmurs, “Princess—fuck, my pretty princess—feels s’good,” he slurs, to which you can only furrow your brows in pleasure and nod dumbly. You feel like you’re on fire, sweat all over as you chew down on your lip, trying to shake off the soaked dress shirt, but Minghao stops you with a firm hand on your arm.

“Keep it on pretty,” he whines, “Please.”

Something about the desperation in his voice has your heart strings strumming, and let your hand fall back onto him, shifting so his cock hits even deep inside of you. Your squeezing is more than he can handle, and Minghao wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close, lips ghosting over your neck and teeth sinking into your skin.

Through mangled whispers and hot skin, tangled limbs and melting lips, you two move through sheets languidly. For how long, you can’t say, but when you two reach your peaks together, it’s with words of love pushed through gritted teeth hard kisses.You two probably won’t be able to understand what the other is saying, but that’s okay because you don’t need to. You’ll know and Minghao will know—I love you.

[scientia-rex]

Long ask. I didn't see that you had answered anything similar.

How do I do activism? Yes, I could Google it, but I would rather learn from a stranger with claimed yet unverifiable experience on Tumblr than from a stranger with claimed yet unverifiable experience anywhere else, and I'm here and so are you and we can talk and have a [para]social interaction. I won't bore you with a condensed autobiography, but I have a lot of experience fixing mistakes, not unlike being a physician, but far less noble, what David Graber would call a "duct-taper". It's partly what led me to socialism. I fixed mistakes but could not fix the root causes and, when I investigated those causes, I ran into structure. I couldn't explain the human behavior I witnessed as human nature, because it wasn't my nature and, as far as I know, I'm human, so the only explanation I could come up with was that the structure of the company I worked for created the problems I was trying to solve, and I had no power to change that structure, and no desire to join the psychopaths failing up the corporate ladder. I expanded my thinking outward and saw the problem inherent in capitalism and all the associated -isms and -archies, all the while trying to figure out what I could do that could possibly change any of it. I dove into progressive politics, read theory, consumed all the lefty content I could find, and thought, and keep running into the same problems. But even if the root causes cannot be addressed, the effects still need to be, because the effects are people, hence activism.

How do I talk to congresspeople? I email them about issues, but am frankly afraid to call them. Shall I get voice mail, or does a person pick up? If the latter, I'm assuming it will be a secretary. I don't want to be mean to a person answering phones. I've been one of those people getting yelled at or threatened because of events I did not cause and could not possibly prevent or change and, maybe I'm oversensitive or have PTSD or just a hyperactive amygdala, but I cannot overstate the damage those negative experiences cause. Sure, in the grand scheme of things, the lives that can be saved or improved outweigh a few people's hurt feelings or possible psychological trauma, but I would prefer not to turn this into a trolley problem if at all possible. Maybe it's a stupid question. Maybe I'm overthinking it. I can be charming and I have no lack of empathy; I can politely disagree. Shall I have to argue with anyone? Or is it a thank-you-for-your-participation-I-will-tell-the-congressperson-have-a-nice-day situation?

How do I get a job doing good things for people? This is somewhat pressing as I quit my corporate job five years ago, to have what turned out to be a midlife crisis, and have been living off savings (that are running out) ever since. I want to help and don't want to be ashamed of what I do for a living. I've always been able to do anything I've ever tried to do, but I'm 45 with little formal education or qualifications, and am thinking it's maybe too late to go back to school. Most of the non-profits I see seem like little more than scams. And perhaps the most serious complication: I'm a loner, more out of habit than inclination. I'll spare you the background, but I have no connections and no idea how to make them, and I don't believe I have any particular skills so valuable that should confer an immediate advantage or demand for my labor, but then again I don't know what is in demand.

It's OK if you can't answer some of these things. I simply have no one to talk to about them who can give any actual advice and figured you might. Thanks.

How to do activism: The first thing you need to know is your axe to grind. It was easy for me. I've been out since I was 13, nobody ever believes a girl is bisexual, it's always "you want attention" or "you're secretly a lesbian." That was in 1997. I went through hell and I'm bitter about it. So when I realized I liked medicine, I realized I could turn my life into an extended revenge arc by moving home and telling everybody it's OK to be gay. Two birds, one stone. I work with a woman who didn't get her axe to grind until about three years ago. She realized she was fed up with people abandoning dogs. She's one of the most active volunteers at the local shelter now. She's saved a lot of dogs' lives. She didn't start out knowing anything about it, but she told the shelter she wanted to volunteer, and they've helped her grow through the rest of it. My husband works with the local food bank, because his mom's neighbor (who is a family friend and sweetheart) wrangled him in to serving on the board, so now in addition to board meetings once a month he goes in sometimes to do things like help his mom's friend unload trucks. Sometimes the cause picks you, sometimes you pick the cause, sometimes you are the cause. And no matter what the cause is, someone else is already working on it. Someone else already cares deeply and if you show up ready to be hands on and help out, with humility because you know that you don't know everything, they will help you learn how to be effective. I started out in medicine by volunteering at the emergency room near where I lived. I pushed a linen cart around and restocked gowns in rooms, and when I couldn't fit any more washcloths into drawers I cleaned doorknobs. One of the nurses once told me she really appreciated that I cleaned all the doorknobs, because it wasn't getting regularly done. I am in medicine now because of many, many people I asked for help and who helped me because they wanted to contribute to justice and equity in medicine, whether for queers or rural people or women. This is, and has always been, a combined effort. Alone we beg, together we bargain.

Calling elected representatives: Oh god I know, me too, calling strangers is the LITERAL WORST. I'm 40 and I'd rather pepper-spray myself than argue with a human on the phone. Wait until after hours and you'll get a voicemail. I like to leave voicemails that start with "My name is Dr. Rex, I'm a constituent of yours, and I VOTE, and I'm calling about ____." That's honestly about all it takes--when I was hanging out with the lobbyist she told me they keep lists with tick-marks for how many calls, emails, etc., they get on a topic. Calls count for more. The more effort you have to put in, the more engaged they know you are. So call, but if people scare you (and the people who pick up are almost always nice, if you do get a person, and they will 99/100 times say "thank you for your call, we will pass your concerns along to so-and-so"), call at night.

Going back to school is probably unnecessary. Spin your past experience aggressively and start applying to nonprofits. (You "took time off from the working world in order to sharpen your focus on what matters most to you," which will be whatever this particular group does.) It's OK if you pick a bad one to start with; most of them are shit-shows, and lots of them still accomplish good things. Nonprofits are a bloodbath when it comes to actually being an employee--they know that part of the compensation is the sense of living ethically and they will use your altruism against you--so keep your resume updated and be prepared to bail if grant funding doesn't come through, but most areas have food banks and pet shelters and human shelters and jails and medical clinics and hospitals (for every doctor who works at the local hospital there are at least 10 support staff by the numbers, and they are utterly critical and always under-staffed). Sometimes if you start by volunteering somewhere, once they realize you're dependable, you can get a job there. I am zero percent kidding about working for a hospital, clinic, or jail, by the way. Those are places I know well, and there are always civilian jobs available. You want to make a patient's day better? Be the front desk, front line staff who use the right pronouns and cheer them up.

I think it's completely reasonable to have procedural questions about how all of this works, and I am grateful to you for giving me a chance to talk about it a bit. Please feel free to ask any follow-up questions. And for reference, when I was just starting out in research at a time when the market for research-trained people frankly sucked, I applied well over 300 times and got well over 300 rejections (I was counting) before I ended up with a job that I loved (even though it was hellishly stressful and I made just barely more than minimum wage for working well over my alleged, salaried "hours") and felt like I was making a positive difference for the world with. And from there, I kept making changes as I realized what I wanted and needed. Just keep doing it. You don't have to feel good about every step, you don't have to know what you're doing, just keep putting one foot in front of the other as you try to figure out what will make you happy. Because nothing else is a good proxy for happiness, and happiness, for a whole lot of humans, means finding something meaningful to do in life. Helping others. Be okay with changing, be okay with sacrificing who you are right now for the sake of who you can become. You've survived four decades on this bizarre and cruel planet, and you have inherent, intrinsic worth as a human being. You deserve your own kindness.

[steddieasitgoes]

Do I have more important projects with actual deadlines I should be working on? Yes. Did I write a silly failed shower sex ficlet instead? Also yes. Enjoy!

Also, they don’t actually do anything but there is some suggestive language/jokes so minors be gone!

When it came to showering, Eddie and Steve had very different ideas about the ideal water temperature.

Eddie’s used to fast, lukewarm showers that border more on the cold side. Years and years of conserving the hot water for Wayne and his aching bones have taught him how to be quick and adjust to the cold water hitting his body. If he’s honest with himself, he prefers the cold water now. It energizes him in a way a cup of bitter coffee never has.

Steve, on the other hand, is used to warm showers with water so hot it’s a degree away from scalding temperatures. The type of showers that leave the mirror fogged up and his body flushed red when he steps out fifteen or twenty minutes later.

Naturally, the first time Steve and Eddie decided to shower together was an utter disaster.

It was meant to be intimate and sexy. Steve had mentioned that he’d never fucked anyone in his shower before and Eddie, always eager to take a first away from Steve, had sprung up from the plush mattress and dragged him into the en suite.

They stripped the clothes off each other in a quiet sort of fervor. Eager, but also wanting to savor the moment. It wasn’t often they got to see each other like this. Standing bare in the warm lighting of Steve’s bedroom. Usually, they spent their time, naked on their backs in beds. This was different.

Marveling at Steve’s adonis-level body for too long always made Eddie a bit twitch, so after a moment or two he tugged him into the shower to officially get things started. At least, that was the plan but the minute the warm water landed on Eddie’s skin he let out an ear-piercing yelp and leaped so high, he nearly hit his head on the ceiling above.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he swore.

“What the hell, Eds?” Steve shouts back, slicking his wet hair back as the warm water hits his back.

“What do you mean ‘what the hell’ you’re the one who's trying to burn my dick off!”

Steve snorted, stepping further into the stream of hot water. “Don’t be dramatic. S’just a little warm.”

“Just a little warm,” Eddie mocked as he stepped further away from the shower head, backing himself into a corner. “Stevie, you’re turning redder and redder by the second. It’s too hot!”

“No such thing as too hot.”

“My dick begs to differ!”

Without waiting for Steve to retort, Eddie reached a hand into the scalding water and turned the faucet 45 degrees in the opposite direction. In a matter of seconds, the water started cooling off. Eddie had never been more grateful for Steve’s fancy ass house and working water heater system than that moment.

This time it was Steve who yelped as the cold water assaulted his body. Thankfully, he didn’t leap like Eddie had and instead sidestepped out from under the faucet leaving enough room for Eddie to dive right under the cool stream.

“Now this is an appropriate water temperature.”

“Are you kidding me?” Steve scoffed. “My dick is shriveling up in this! Look!”

Eddie’s gaze immediately dropped and yeah, okay, that was going to be a problem.

“Damn, you really are a grower.”

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned before yanking Eddie away from the shower head.

Just as Steve was about to turn the faucet in the other direction, Eddie’s hand was on his, holding it steady.

“Eddie! I’m going to freeze if I don’t make it warmer.��

“And I’m going to melt! It’s not that bad, you’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t want to get used to it. You get used to my temperature.”

They stayed like that, hands clutched around the faucet, bickering back and forth for several more moments before coming to an impasse. In the end, neither one won The Great Water Temperature Debate and instead, they sprinted back into Steve’s room to satisfy themselves the old-fashioned way: sprawled out on Steve’s mattress, taking turns tearing each other apart.

It wasn’t until years later when they stayed at a hotel with dual shower heads, that they finally got to cross “shower sex” off their not-safe for Dustin’s eyes bucket list.

[https-furina]

alhaitham 45 pls idk if ur event is still open for sugar and spice but 👀👀

✎ the books hold secrets untold.

ft. alhaitham x gn!reader

prompt: "if i kiss you right now, i won't be able to stop."

w.c. 607 words

content: fluff, secret relationship waahahahah, risky kisses in the house of daena, reader is a bit bold, acting grand sage! alhaitham

notes: my first completed alhaitham req for the event aaaa !! everybody clap for haitham for getting content from me /j i was minorly feral for this

the house of daena is pristine, it has been since before your creation - since before the creation of your own boyfriend, in all of his current glory as the acting grand sage of the akademiya. this title comes much to his distaste, it leaves a bitter sting on his tongue when he's made to utter it and he would grimace whenever someone referred to him as such. that's why it had became your favourite thing to shove in his direction half pointedly when you were tired of the level of sass that could come from the man's mouth sometimes.

and at this current time, he's drafting his resignation for the aforementioned position. he's much comfier in his role as the scribe, you can see that in the way he carries himself through the akademiya. you also see the way he's physically pained to sit in the incredulously large chair in the sage's office - after all, why the hell did it need to be that big? alhaitham makes a distressed noise as he runs a hand through silver strands of hair, his brows knitting together as he falls at his wit's ends trying to word his resignation to his liking. that is ultimately why you - as his loving partner - whisk away to hide in the bookshelves for a few minutes.

alhaitham has his reasons for keeping the relationship secret - one of them being that emotional, loud blond roommate of his - and so do you, so neither of you have qualms about the situation. even more so, it's a bit of fun adrenaline to spice up your otherwise bland life as a scholar. you're not entirely sure if alhaitham would agree with that. regardless of his opinion, he has your body trapped between himself and the bookshelves as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. alhaitham is by no means one for public displays of affection but he's starved, his fingertips twitching as they brush against the leather bound tomes behind you.

your hands run through his hair, sifting through the silver locks as you rub the pads of your fingers on his scalp in short, soothing motions. alhaitham doesn't make a sound - nothing out of the blue - but his breath hitches against your skin and a smile is drawn on your face at the small gesture. you press your lips to the soft of his hair, letting out a low hum.

"haitham," you mumble quietly, a whine eliciting from you when he pulls his head away, leaving your hands to fall to his shoulders, "kiss me."

you're a little short of demanding, your lower lip poking out as you give the emotionless male puppy eyes in an attempt to convince him. it's risky, the house of daena is a public library and the central hub for the akademiya's internal activities but you frankly don't care. you want alhaitham; his touch, his familiar scent, the taste on his lips. it seems to be a lingering thought for him as well as his eyes trace down to your lips.

"if i kiss you right now, i won't be able to stop." he's quite honest with his response - he's aware of his self restraint when it comes to anything regarding you.

you lean up with a wicked smile that alhaitham can only begin to wonder what it stemmed from, locking lips with the the scribe in a heated attempt at getting any form of closure. between soft pants for breath against each other's lips, alhaitham manages to hear your barely legible "then don't."

there are secrets that only the books know, stories that pages whisper in hushed tones.

© https-heizou 2023.

[scene-pup]

100 AgeRe Questions

Credit: pickledratinajar

1🐝 What Age(s) Do You Regress To ~

2🍯 Do You Pet Regress As Well / What Animal ~

3🥮 How Long Have You Been Regressing ~

4🐌 Is Your Regression Voluntary, Involuntary, Or A Mixture ~

5🐻 What's Your Personality Like When Regressed ~

6🐴 How Often Do You Regress ~

7☕ What Helps You Get Into Headspace ~

8📜 Are You A Baby, Toddler, Or Big Kid Regressor ~

9🦇 Do Your Likes Change When Regressed ~

10⏳ Do You Have A Baby Voice In Headspace ~

11🍪 What Makes You Instantly Small ~

12🧋Why Do You Regress ~

13🌙 Pink Or Blue ~

14⭐ Dragons, Unicorns Or Fairies ~

15☁️ Dinos, Princesses, Space Or Safari Theme ~

16💫 Neon, Pastel, Neutral Or Dark Pallets ~

17🐮 Favorite Regression Clothes ~

18🌸 Favorite Color ~

19🐭 Do You Collect Stickers ~

20🧁 Coloring Book Or Paint By Numbers ~

21🍧 Playdoh, Legos Or Slime ~

22🦄 Finger Paint Or Brushes ~

23🧼 Crayons, Colored Pencils Or Markers ~

24☀️ Do You Have A CG / Name For CG ~

25🌻 Do You Have A Baby Sitter ~

26✨ Do You Have Any Sibbies ~

27🧺 Do Your Parents Know About Your Regression ~

28🧋 Favorite Nicknames / Pet Names ~

29🍕 Ideal Playdate ~

30🐱 Sleep In Crib Or With CG ~

31🍼 Favorite Snack ~

32🧸 Favorite Juice ~

33🍪 Favorite Icecream Flavor ~

34🩹 Favorite Type Of Milk ~

35🐶 Sweet, Sour, Spicy, Bitter Or Savory ~

36🍰 Favorite Dessert ~

37🍦 Favorite Type Of Chocolate ~

38⏳ Mac & Cheese Or Nuggets ~

39🎒 Favorite Movie ~

40🍬 Favorite Cartoon ~

41🚀 Favorite Game ~

42🎀 Favorite Disney Princess ~

43⚾ If You Could Have Any 1 Superpower What Would It Be ~

44🍄 Anime Or Cartoons ~

45🍓 Favorite Carebear ~

46✏️ Shows Or Movies ~

47🐛 Do You Believe In Fairies ~

48🐸 Do You Have A Comfort Character ~

49🌱 Do You Like Rain At Night ~

50🦕 Are You Easily Scared ~

51🧃 Are You Also A Carer ~

52🌵 Are You Independent Or Dependent ~

53🍃 What Pulls You Out Of Headspace ~

54🍏 Are You Scared Of Bugs ~

55🦝 Favorite Toy Series ~

56🚛 Do You Use Pacis ~

57🦴 Do You Use Diaps ~

58🦈 Gear Wishlist ~

59🍵 Favorite Regression Item ~

60🐾 Sippy Cup Or Bottle ~

61🦊 Oldest Stuffie ~

62🎃 Do You Sleep With A Stuffie ~

63🔥 How Many Stuffies Do You Have ~

64🍂 Newest Favorite Stuffie ~

65🏵️ Build A Bear, Amusement Park, Or Disney Store ~

66🥧 Stuffed Animals Or Dolls ~

67👽 Do You Have A Bedtime ~ 

68🍭 Do You Keep An AgeRe Journal ~

69⚡️ Do You Have Rules ~

70🍥 Blankie Or Paci ~

71🌈 Night Light Or Glow-In-The-Dark Stars ~

72🌿 Bedtime Stories Or Lullabies ~

73🎩 Favorite Thing To Do Outside While Small ~

74🐵 Favorite Thing To Do Inside While Small ~

75🦋 Blanket Fort Or Bouncy House ~

76🐯 Stroller Or Walk ~

77🔮 Dress Up Or Tea Party ~

78🦜 Do You Like The Playground ~

79💖 Early Bird Or Night Owl ~

80📝 Indoors Or Outdoors ~

81💕 Warm Or Cold Weather ~

82🦢 Dogs Or Cats ~

83☎️ Do You Have Any Pets ~

84💌 Favorite Animal ~

85🍒 Favorite Holiday ~

86🐇 Favorite Season ~

87❤️ What’s Your Big Age ~

88🌼 What’s A Nostalgic Place For You ~

89🐳 Playdoh, Legos Or Slime ~

90🐙 Do You Collect Anything ~

91🐠 Bubble Baths Or Bath Toys ~

92🍑 Are Your Agere Interests More Fem Or Masc ~

93☔️ Do You Stim More While Regressed ~

94🎨 Favorite Place To Regress ~

95🧵 Favorite Regression Youtuber ~

96🌈 Favorite Site/App For Regression Community ~

97💐 What Do You Wanna Be When You Grow Up ~

98📒 What’s The Most Nostalgic Electronic For You ~

99📀 A Toy You Always Wanted But Never Got As A Kid ~

100🪐 What Is Your Favorite Thing To Learn About In Headspace ~

ASK ME! :D <3

[soilaluna]

how jjk men propose (out of the blue) gojo & toji x f!reader extreme fluffiness 1.6k w

gojo loathes routine. the only thing he's willing to drown in is crowded parties, one-night stands, and unlimited beverages. but not routine —nuh-uh (never). he can think of a thousand reasons why engaging in the same activities with monotonous regularity is unhealthy, crazy, and out of the question for him.

but then you introduce yourself. and you sweep him off his feet in a matter of weeks. then, in just in a couple of months, you drag him into your silly, meticulous routine and he thinks: there's no way he's going to pull through that relationship. he gives the two of you a couple of more weeks, at the most —if he survives dinner at 7 o'clock, if he can endure cleaning the house religiously on sundays, if he can keep taking the dog out for a walk every damn night before going to sleep.

but slowly, very surely, he has a change of heart. and suddenly he finds himself asking you to go out for a jog as soon as the sun comes out. and it's him who starts cooking at 5:45 pm so the dinner is ready just on time before you leave work. and grocery shopping —he loves those. he loves them with you. he adores the little rituals now his just as yours. and he wants them for much longer —forever if it's possible.

he realizes so while both of you are in the supermarket.

you're asking him something about some vegetables. he's clutching a plant of lettuce in his hand when he spits out, "i want this."

you tilt your head. you obviously have no clue what he's referring to cause you inquire, "you want... what? rocket or chicory? cause i find chicory disgustingly bitter."

and so, satoru chuckles, shakes his head, and adds, "no, not that, dummy. this. doing stuff. with you —for the rest of my life. our life, if you let me."

to his heartfelt confession, you answer with silence. it's just a few seconds of disquiet, but for satoru they go by like centuries. people walk around you, and there's too much noise (someone even asked him at one point to move his cart out of the way) but he's solely focused on your narrowed eyes and oh, no.

he royally fucked up.

he acted on impulse and didn't stop to think once about everything else: your own wishes, the proposal —because who the fuck proposes in a supermarket? (someone who doesn't want to hear a yes, obviously).

so, naturally, he panics. he opens and closes his mouth like a fish. he knows what he wants to say —we can wait, we don't have to marry at all, please don't panic, runaway and leave me— yet he can't word a single thought. he hadn't even properly asked! what reaction was he expecting from you?

but then (so merciful) you speak —not quite literally. you just wrap your arms around his neck and smash your lips against his. and oh, no kiss from you has ever felt sweeter. you mouth no words but the message is clear as water and it's so perfect. his hasty decision makes sense, by then. you never asked for anything more than an honest love.

he presses the palms of his hands against your back and hugs you tight against him. seconds go by, minutes —one, three, five. he doesn't count, he doesn't care.

it's not until someone passes by him and coughs that he puts his feet back on the ground. he's about to whine about the devastating interruption but adoration gleams in your toothy smile and wide, bright eyes and there is no way he can waste his attention on anyone else.

"so," you tease, "does this mean we have to plan a fancier dinner?"

(satoru rolls his eyes and then he goes for another kiss).

/

the upper floor is all chatter and laughter while toji's downstairs, in the kitchen, chopping meat for lunch.

he peeps the clock: you've officially been kidnapped by tsumiki and megumi for over an hour. he doesn't know what they're up to but he wouldn't dare stick his head up the stairs —not again, at least. he had already asked once if he could join them and megumi—with his usual, amusing blank stare—practically slammed the door in his face (tsumiki added a scream in the background, go away, dad!). and so, he was relegated to fulfilling the mere role of a chef while wondering just what the hell his kids were doing with his girlfriend.

a few more minutes pass before tsumiki finally speaks to him again.

"dad!"

toji covers the simmering pot before he turns around, "what?"

his daughter pokes her head between the stair railings. "c'mere" once toji gets closer, she adds, hushed, "i just wanna say that this is my idea and my idea only. she didn't want to do it 'cause she thought you'd get mad so please, please, pleaaaaase don't get mad."

toji raises an eyebrow —now he's really intrigued about what they'd been up to. tsumiki always behaved. she knows where the lines are drawn and never bothers to cross them. so whatever they've done, whatever had his daughter worried enough to apologize in advance, must be serious.

"ok?" he falters.

tsumiki whips her head to her right and calls out, "all good!"

megumi instantly appears and positions himself at the top of the stairs. he coughs a couple of times and not a second later, the most out-of-tune version of 'here comes the bride' comes out of his mouth.

slowly, you appear in the line of toji's vision. you respect the typical rhythm of a bride's entrance. one step —pause. another step —pause. one step —pause.

toji's eyes glimmer as he takes you in: your dress is made up of one of the kids' bedsheets, it hugs you loosely over your chest. the silver plastic crown you're wearing —he remembers buying it for tsumiki at a carnival fair not long ago. your holding an improvised bouquet of fresh flowers, so fresh he can see the roots from where he stands (he bets megumi has ripped them out from miss ayumi's garden) (he'd make sure his son apologized later). and the makeup —geez. he'd never seen you wear so much blush and red lipstick. you looked like one of those vintage porcelain dolls but —oh.

if only you knew how exquisite you looked.

you were pouring light everywhere. even if you felt uncomfortable, even if you felt insecure (toji could read you like an open book by now).

"what's the matter, doll?" he inquires.

your eyes bounce between the stairs, the walls, the kids. everywhere else but him.

"tsumiki wanted to play, i told her that it could be —y'know... "

too much? yeah. maybe some time ago.

(he could see why you were freaking out).

the first time you tip-toed around the idea of marriage—a little over a year after you had started dating—was the last time you ever did. it was just a silly comment you had made while you were watching a travel tv show —the couple on-screen was on their honeymoon. you asked him then what his ideal honeymoon location would be.

"for what? 's not like i intend to have one again".

and you never brought up the conversation ever again.

he knew his response had been blunt and unfair. but he'd thought—thanks to his brutish lack of understanding—that it was better to be straightforward and not misleading. the least he wanted was to fuck up what you both had.

(but he did fuck up. greatly).

and only now he had realized it.

there was no one else but you. he already had been gifted a second chance (with you, with love) —and life was often too callous to gift third opportunities. he didn't consider himself a smart man, but he'd be the stupidest human on earth if he wasted another second.

he wanted to marry you (and if he was lucky enough, you'd still want to marry him too, after all).

toji meets you halfway up the stairs. he leaves a couple of steps in between, just enough for him to kneel on one knee.

you look at him with a bent brow, your head is tilted but still, you manage to grin as you ask, "what are you doing?"

"what does it look like?" he questions back, "marry me".

you let out a nervous chuckle, clearly not believing what is happening. "what?"

"what you just heard. marry me, baby. for real." tsumiki immediately lets out a shrill and starts clapping and jumping. "i don't —i don't have a ring right now but i'll get one for ya. and we'll get you a real dress. and the kids will be dressed up all nice and pretty. just the four of us... what do ya think?"

toji waits, in dreadful silence. the second thoughts arrive in a second. maybe he should've prepared everything better. maybe you wanted something special. maybe he had let you down—once again— and suddenly this impulsive decision felt idiotic and absurd. of course, you deserved better. of course, you knew this and he wouldn't blame you if you said—

"yes".

yes.

he thinks he's daydreaming for a second but then—as if you could sense his dubiety—you repeat, louder. "yes!"

yes, yes, yes. you said yes.

your eyes are crystalline, filled to the brim with tears. your smile is as wide and beautiful as ever.

he leaps to his feet and reaches out to you. he clasps his hands around your cheeks and kisses you. tender and passionate. full of endless longing and eternal promises.

the kids are quick to join (megumi hugs you from your side, shedding tears of happiness) (tsumiki jumps to toji's arms, giggling).

(he's never been happier).

"i love you, wife" he utters.

"and i love you, husband."

[keys-hellscape-1020]

Hello hello

I was wondering if you would write something with the reader is apart of 141 and is such a badass on the field and seems fearless but is absolutely terrified of bugs😂 (it’s me, I’m terrified of bugs)

A/N: I’m the exact same way anon. I’m all like “I’m such a badass I’d be fine in a war” and then one (1) singular cockroach would fly at me and I’d piss and shit myself simultaneously before passing out from fear. Also hope you don’t mind but I decided to make this with more of a headcannon format despite my love of oneshots.

Platonic!141 x gn!reader

Content: Military inaccuracies, cussing, Spiders, reader has panic attack, boys being sweet, and soap being a menace (still love him though)

————

You manage to hold in your fear of bugs in the field, adrenaline, training, and a hefty dose of dissociation all mixing together to provide you with the perfect cocktail to temporarily stamp down your phobia. However outside of the field you are still terrified of them, you just try your best to hide it, all to aware of how embarrassing the fact that a trained killing machine can’t handle a tiny insect is.

Thankfully you’d managed for the most part, simply making up an excuse when a bug would enter a room, or slamming a cup over it and leaving it for someone else to deal with. However after a while, it seems your luck had started to run out.

It was the morning after a particularly tiring mission, you’d had gotten in late and by the time you had completed debrief and all other post-mission duties it was almost 3:00 am, with roll call at 6.

To say that everyone was exhausted was an understatement, a severe one, but you all were nothing if not disciplined. And so here you were at 5:45, your PT uniform on, and a cup of coffee sitting in front of you on the cafeteria table.

You take a sip, your nose scrunching at the bitter taste as you force it down your throat. You desperately needed the caffeine however, so you make yourself drink it as you try not to fall asleep on the table in front of you.

You barely notice Soap and Gaz walking in, you probably would’ve completely disregarded them if it weren’t for their half-hearted bickering about one thing or another. You watch them as they move about the cafeteria, picking up various breakfast foods.

You barely acknowledge them as they sit across from you, continuing to sip your coffee half-heartedly. You have no idea how many times Soap had called your name, but it took him waving his hand in front of your face for him to get your attention.

“You alright hen?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed at you in concern.

You nod at him, trying your best to not fall asleep on the table.

You barely notice Gaz’s movements, but the thing he pointed out you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you wanted to.

It was a relatively small critter in hindsight, but in the moment your weary and fear-laden brain hadn’t cared for that, only the fact that it had 8 legs and was about a centimeter away from your hand.

You shoot up with a screech of “DEAR FUCK” and send your styrofoam cup flying halfway across the cafeteria. Your reaction made Soap and Gaz shoot up out of their seats as well, looking at you with extreme concern and confusion.

You stand in the middle of the cafeteria blankly, eyes fixated on the creature who was transferring the cafeteria table at speeds spiders should not be allowed to reach.

Once you have come to your sense slightly you look around to see that everyone in the cafeteria is still staring at you with mixed looks of concern and confusion.

You decide to flee the scene.

It is only after you are out in the hallway, safely away from the object of your fear, that you realized your breathing was tight and panicked. It’s only once you’d slid to the floor with your back against a wall that you’d realized that Soap and Gaz followed you out of the cafeteria.

They crouch down in front of you, you can see their mouths moving and hear muffled word’s bouncing around your head but the sound of your rushing blood blocks out all outside sounds. You’re startled out of your thick daze by Soap grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest, right over his sternum.

You’re confused briefly, and try to pull back, but his grip holds firm and after a moment you realize the exaggerated deep breaths he is taking and try your best to copy them. It takes a few minutes of you following Soap’s breath patterns for yours to return to normal.

Once your breathing is stable and you can no longer hear your blood flow you tip you head back against the wall, the sturdy surface providing an excellent chance for you to ground yourself with. Soap and Gaz sit and watch you for a moment, and it’s only after you open your eyes to return their intense stares that they begin to speak.

“Are you alright?” Gaz asks lowly, you’re unsure when it happened but at some point he gently grabbed your other hand and started gently rubbing it with his thumb.

Your only answer is a slight nod and Gaz and Soap exchange a concerned glance. “What brought that on?” Soap asks softly, fingers still intertwined tightly with yours.

You wince and avert your eyes, you’re sure that you’re late to roll-call by this point and you really don’t want your only excuse to be that you had a panic attack thanks to a spider. You would absolutely never live that down. “Doesn’t matter, I’m fine now.” You grumble softly, moving to stand up.

Soap and Gaz stand with you, exchanging a concerned glance with each other as they do. “Hen, whatever it is it’s alright. We won’t make fun of you.” Soap says soothingly, placing a warm hand on your shoulder.

You wince, and roll your bottom lip between your teeth as you think. They might not make fun of you now? But later? Definitely. Your internal conflict is cut short when you look back up at them however, large concerned puppy dog eyes staring back at you. Damnit you’re weak.

“The spider.” You mumble out sheepishly, suddenly finding great interest in your shoes as you subconsciously back yourself towards the wall.

Gaz’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and Soap cocks his head like a confused puppy. “The spider?” Gaz asks slowly, like he’s trying to comprehend rocket science.

You exhale aggressively and scuff your feet against the floor. “The spider.” You confirm quietly.

Soap slings a heavy arm over your shoulders, practically dragging you down with the hefty amount of his body weight he puts on you. “Ey it’s alright hen, we’ve all got something we’re afraid of.”

“Like dogs.” Gaz quips, prompting a vicious glare from Soap as he giggles madly. Soap huff and lifts his arm from your shoulder to ruffle your hair playfully. “Say since we’re already late for rollcall, why don’t we just skip?”

You and Gaz simultaneously shoot him a confused look. “Price will kill us.” Gaz try’s to reason.

“No Price will kill me and hen. He would never dream of touching his golden boy.” Soap teases, moving to ruffle his hair before Gaz slaps it away with an indignant look.

You did end up skipping roll call that day in favor of napping in Soap’s room, and you did indeed have hell to pay when Price and Ghost found you all passed out, plenty of PT and toilet duty for a week.

You never told Price and Ghost about your fear of bugs, but you’re fairly certain Soap and Gaz let them know. There was a number of times when off-duty that you would notice a bug and before you could blink Price or Ghost were moving to take care of it for you.

Gaz was also extremely sweet when it came down to it, capturing bugs and taking them outside almost always. Soap was also a little shit, as usual. Capturing the bug and then chasing you with it, or assaulting you with it’s corpse. A quick threat to bring in several large dogs makes him shut up and take care of the insect however.

So yes, while you do suffer teasing about it occasionally, they would never make you face your fear alone. They’re your family after all. And family look out for one another.

[yuzurujenn]

[2023.11.11] AERA Special Edition - 100 Q&A with Yuzuru Hanyu

1. What time do you wake up in the morning?

This morning? 12:30pm.

2. Is it always like that?

It’s usually around 6pm.

3. The first words uttered when you wake up in the morning. Is it “sleepy”?

“Sleepy” maybe.

4. The first thing you do when you wake up in the morning.

Put away the futon.

5. The last thing you ate.

Tofu! It was a cold one.

6. The ideal way to spend your holidays.

Wake up, play games, and sleep (laughs). Then, um, wake up again, eat when I’m hungry, lie down and go back to sleep again.

7. The ideal breakfast.

I wonder.. break and milk.

8. What kind of dinner makes you excited?

Gyoza!

9. What do you keep in mind to manage your physical condition?

I keep additives at a minimum. It’s hard to avoid them, but I’m trying to reduce it.

10. How do you spend your time on the shinkansen? Check SNS? Sleep?

Either.

11. A dream you had recently.

It’s a scary one, I had a dream of jumping into the lake.

12. Why the lake?

I was being chased by some scary people, their faces were covered in mosaics. Felt like these people were trying to kill me, so I jumped into a lake.

13. What would you end up buying at the convenience store?

Pudding.

14. What kind of pudding you prefer? Firm or soft?

Firm.

15. Favourite app.

App. I wonder what it is, Pass! I can’t say (laughs).

16. Do you drink alcohol?

I can’t drink alcohol. Allergy.

17. What do you want to be if you are reborn?

Human! Preferably myself.

18. Sweet things, spicy things, bitter things, and sour things. Which do you like?

I guess something sweet.

19. When you’re feeling down, what do you do?

Just dance according to the music.

20. Mountain or sea, which do you prefer?

Mountain!

21. If you could shout something from the top of the mountain?

“Yay!” Or something? Hahaha.

22. Who do you talk to when you are feeling troubled?

Myself. Or listen to music.

23. Favourite time of the day.

5 or 6 o’clock in the morning.

24. Why that time of the day?

It depends on the seasons, but the sun will rise around this time. On cloudy days, although the sun will rise, it will be a bit dim. But it’s not a sinking feeling since it’s sunrise, I like that kind of gloomy morning.

25. Frequently used emoji.

What is it? Cry 😭! (Use both hands to express). I use this a lot.

26. Favourite animal.

Cat!

27. If you were to get a cat, what name would you give it?

Milk. Because what comes to mind right now is a white cat.

28. Yuzuru Hanyu expressed in one kanji character.

Well, this is a difficult question. I’ll leave this for later!

29. What do you do to boost your spirit?

Take caffeine.

30. How do you take it?

I will drink something, like energy drink.

31. A habit you want to fix.

Staying up late.

32. What’s a word you always end up saying?

Sou desu ne (Indeed/I See).

33. Do you believe in fortune telling?

I do. Hehe.

34. A place you would like to go.

Ise Jingu and Izumo Taisha.

35. Have you been there before?

I went to Ise Jingu once on my way home from an ice show. It was amazing, I felt a lot of energy and power there. I'd like to go there again.

36. Favourite place?

Sendai.

37. What’s good about Sendai?

It’s a place where the city and forest can co-exist.

38. Speaking of Sendai?

Zunda!

39. What would you do if you had a different job for just one day?

Occupation? One day only. Um, programmer!

40. Do you have any programming experience?

I took programming classes when I was in college, and I’ve been doing it a little bit since. I think it would be fun to do something like that.

41. If you have 10 minutes free time?

Play game!

42. What game?

Now I’m playing “Fire Emblem”.

43. The best movie you’ve seen.

The Girl Who Leapt Through Time.

44. Something that makes you think “This is just impossible”.

Bell pepper.

45. An episode with bell pepper.

During the ice show the other day the hotel caterer served us curry. Before the actual performance, I can’t eat curry at all because it’s a bit heavy for me. However, I thought I might be able to eat it before rehearsal the night before, so I went to eat it and found that it had bell pepper in it. I was in shock, I couldn’t recover from it. Even though it’s curry, it had bell pepper in it! There were only red and yellow bell peppers (laughs).

46. Do you prefer to eat your favourite food first, or last?

Divide it, and eat it the first and the last.

47. Your favourite dagashi (penny candy).

Um, gummies. Are gummies dagashi? Not sure?

48. Would you put them as dagashi?

And then, there’s that soda candy. Big one. Tastes like cola. Sometimes with gum in them. I like that.

49. Something that surprised you recently.

Nothing much. However, that dream surprised me though, I was thinking “I’m going to be killed” (laughs)

50. Is there anything surprised you in real life?

Ah yes, bugs! Just at the entrance of my house, there was a relatively rare scarab called the Polyphylla albolineata (Motschulsky). I poked it with my hand to see what it was, and it made a loud sound, which shocked me (laughs). First time seeing that kind of bug.

51. Favourite scent?

I like chamomile and jasmine.

52. Favourite bento side dish?

Karaage (fried chicken).

53. Favourite tea?

Early grey.

54. Favourite ingredient in miso soup?

Tofu.

55. Favourite onigiri filling?

Now I like kombu!

56. Favourite sandwich filling?

Tomatoes.

57. Favourite meat?

Pork belly!

58. Favourite drink?

Dr. Pepper.

59. Favourite colour?

It depends on the time and occasion, but right now it’s yellow-green.

60. Favourite manga?

What manga would I recommend. There are quite a few, but hmm, I wonder what is it now. Tokyo Ghoul, I guess.

61. Favourite flower?

I wonder... Hydrangea!

62. Artists you’re interested in recently?

I'm feeling troubled. I don’t want to say who is popular (laughs), but ah, what should I do. Mrs. GREEN APPLE!

63. Your favourite toy as a child?

Jungle gym.

64. Do you like being at the top?

I like the top. I think I fell down once when I was a kid though.

65. Were you okay?

It’s a small jungle gym for home use. I seemed to have hit somewhere. Hit the forehead.

66. Recommended Youtube channel?

“HANYU YUZURU” hahaha.

67. Important words?

Daijoubu (It’s okay).

68. The moment you felt glad that you were skating?

Probably when I could move as my heart dictates.

69. If you could only bring one thing with you to an uninhabited island?

Knife? As long as you have a knife, you can always find a way.

70. If you can take a week off starting tomorrow?

Play games!

71. If tomorrow is the end of the world, what would you want to eat?

Gyoza. It’s all about gyoza (laughs).

72. What would you buy as a gift for yourself?

Earphone.

73. Describe your personality in one word.

Well, weird. Hahaha.

74. Why do you feel you are like a weird person?

I didn’t feel like I was weird at all originally, but recently I took on a lot of various jobs, and when I was being interviewed, I thought, “I’m such a weirdo”.

75. What was the moment that you felt that being weird is good too?

Because I am weird, I think about many different things and observe and make progress from a different perspective than others. Based on this, I don’t think it is a derogatory term, but after all I was a bit shocked to realise I am different from others (laughs).

76. Favourite number.

1.

77. Favourite novel.

キマイラ (Kimaira). I don’t reach much novels, but I’ve read quite a lot of the Kimaira series.

78. How big is the largest Pooh that you own?

(Opening his arms) About this big? It should be this big. Is it about 1 meter, or 80 centimetres?

79. What about the smallest Pooh?

That would be the Tsum-Tsum, the plastic kind, there’s a very small one, almost 2cm, the stacking kind.

80. If you’re not a figure skater, what would you be?

A baseball player. I liked baseball more (laughs).

81. A costume you want to try on for Halloween.

Vampire!

82. When did you have your first cell phone?

No, I don’t have one.

83. How do you check SNS?

Although I have been using an iPod touch, it has been discontinued. Now I’m using an iPhone without a SIM card. Since I’ve never used a cell phone, I don’t have a number.

84. If you could get one thing, what would it be?

I wonder. Hmm… I guess I rather get it on my own than receiving it.

85. What kind of nerd (otaku) are you?

Audio.

86. What is your specialty dish?

Frozen gyoza (laughs).

87. What kind of illustrations are you good at?

I can’t draw Pooh. Ah, but I may have drawn all kinds of wings, and skates.

88. Things you tend to collect.

Just earphones, and gyoza (laughs).

89. Something you always keep in mind.

Never forget your original intention.

90. Words that you dislike.

Right. There is, but I wonder what it is. “Uncool” is definitely something I don’t want to be told.

91. A relaxing moment.

When I’m in the futon, lying on my stomach and squeezing the pillow.

92. How do you spend your birthday?

I was hardly in Japan for my birthday. There was always the Grand Prix Final, and when I couldn’t go, it’s usually because I was injured or sick.

93. On your 28th birthday after turning professional, how did you spend it?

I felt like it was the first time I could spend some time at home. Yeah. It’s like “I’m not fidgeting!” Moreover, I was not injured and not in a bad shape. That’s what I was thinking.

94. Were you also off work?

There’s a program called “Classic TV” with Shinya Kiyozuka, and there was a recording of it. However, even though there was a recording session, I was able to spend time at home.

95. You will be 29 years old this year. What kind of year would you like to have?

Well, for now, I would like to continue my research and study.

96. What kind of research and study?

Acting and expression techniques. I want to learn more about those things, and also learn more skating techniques.

97. What do you want to do when you turn 30?

For now, continue jumping quads. Like, “I can jump!” hahaha.

98. What will you be doing in 10 years?

I wonder if I will still be skating. My goal is to maintain my health and reduce the risk of injury as much as possible so that I can still skate 10 years from now.

99. Once again, “Yuzuru Hanyu” expressed in one kanji character.

Hmm. Core, I guess. I absolutely do not want to waver.

100. Lastly, what would you like to ask your fans?

Am I living up to your expectations?

Info: https://x.com/AERAnetjp/status/1708679949245100224

[claymorexpunisher]

I'll Shut You Up (CH.6/6) (18+ Fic)

Disclaimer: This fic is NSFW. If that's not your thing, keep scrolling. I try to tag my work appropriately and if you still choose to click and read, do so at your own discretion. ALWAYS make sure to discuss everything prior to engaging in ANY kinks… If you’d like to be removed from my taglist, please message me privately. Thank you for the love always and I hope you enjoy!

Pairing(s): Rhea Ripley/ Fem. Reader

Summary: It’s pretty well known that Rhea and Fem. Reader can’t stand one another. Reader thinks Rhea’s way cockier than she should be and Rhea thinks as highly about Reader as much as she thinks about the dirt at the bottom of her boot. Well… so they say, at least. A packed hotel mishap forces them to bunk together, and Rhea presses her luck by running her mouth. They both might find themselves wrapped up in a dynamic that might change their lives forever...

Fic Tags: Enemies to Hatefucking, Forced Proximity, Overbooked Hotel, WM Weekend, Bottom/Sub!Rhea, Top/Dom!Reader, Bratting, Oral Sex, Cunninglingus, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Clitoral Stimulation, Sex Toys, Size Difference (shorter reader), Strap-On, Hair Pulling, Spit as Lube (rare occasion), Begging, Light Face Slapping, Spanking, Biting, Choking, Enemies to Lovers.

Total Fic Word Count: 8,411

Prev. Chapter

Seeing Rhea barely holding back tears as she updated the fans on the condition of her injury broke my heart.

Both as a wrestler and as a person, it was devastating, especially now that certain things became clearer to me.

It was obvious that Rhea herself was devastated.

Wrestling was her passion after all.

But I knew she’d be back and just like Damian had proclaimed; she’d be better than ever.

Knowing that I had a spot for her title with my name on it felt bittersweet.

Sweet because I knew damn well, I had worked for that spot.

But bitter because it was under such unfortunate circumstances.

If I ended up winning the title, I didn’t quite know what it would do to Rhea and I’s already volatile yet fragile dynamic…

~~

About 45 minutes into Monday Night Raw, my dream had been realized.

But also, I feared, so had my nightmare…

The title felt heavy on my left shoulder as I made my way to the back to uproarious applause from my peers.

Well… most of them, at least.

And regardless of how heavy the title and my heart felt, I refused to cower over something I had no control over, despite feeling terrible for Rhea.

Still, I felt her gaze boring into my skull as I accepted congratulations- even from the boys in The Judgment Day, who I was cool with.

I didn’t know if what Rhea was aiming at me was anger, jealousy, disappointment, sadness, or all of the above.

But her eyes remained on me almost the entire night…

~~

I was so focused on winding down for the night and really digesting everything that went down tonight that I almost didn’t hear the quiet knocking at my hotel room door until it occurred a second time, a little louder now.

Upon opening the door and seeing Rhea standing there, in sweats and a tank top and clearly ready for bed herself, I rested my forehead against the door and sighed deeply, hoping against hope that this wouldn’t end in disaster again.

I didn’t know what Rhea wanted and it was clear that she didn’t either.

But it was the kicked puppy expression on her face that greeted me as I let my eyes trail over that made me say, “Hi, Rhea.” instead of “Please, leave.”

She was like a rollercoaster I couldn’t seem to get off of.

And honestly? I didn’t really want to either…

“Hi… can I come in? … Please? I just wanna talk, I’m not… I’m not here to argue.” Rhea said in a soft tone that I wasn’t quite used to hearing come out of her. At least not towards me.

I had gotten a taste of her more submissive side, but this was… this was new. A nice change.

I just hoped that it would last, no matter what our relationship morphed into.

More than the sex, the latter part of the night we spent together gave me a taste of what things could be like between Rhea and I.

Us just… just joking, laughing with each other… enjoying each other’s company, making each other laugh over stupid shit.

It felt easy.

With that in mind, I let her into my hotel room, and we sat on the bed side by side.

My eyes scanned her frame, trying not to settle for too long on the sling covering her left arm, but Rhea caught the sympathetic look anyway.

“Can I see it?” Was all that she asked, and I tilted my head curiously.

“See what?” I asked in response, and I watched her look at anywhere but me for a moment before her gaze settled on me and I could see the pain in them when she answered with a mumbled, “… your title.”

My brows lifted and my lips formed an “o” shape of realization before I went over to the tiny closet in my hotel room, and I fished my World Women’s Championship out of it and brought it over to her as I sat cross-legged on the bed again.

I draped the title over her lap and watched her gently run her fingers over the new side plates with my logo on it, a little smile quirked on her lips as she did so.

I stayed perfectly still as she then picked up the title and came closer to me, resting the title against my stomach.

Somehow, I knew what she wanted, and because she currently only had one available hand, I helped her secure the title around my waist.

Now it was my turn to look at anything but her for a moment as her blue eyes melted into something familiar that I’d seen in them weeks ago.

That look in her eyes I had damn near convinced myself wasn’t there, was definitely there now.

There was no denying it.

But her words and the honesty in them were what surprised me the most.

“You make it look good.” She started, now smirking a little more before face became a little more solemn again and she cleared her throat. “And you’re gonna do my reign justice. I know you are.” She said with a certainty and a confidence in my abilities that broke me a little and put me back together.

It was only then I noticed she was suddenly near tears again, but I refrained from reaching out to her for fear that she’d pull away and run from me again.

“…I want to hate you.” Rhea continued, and I bit my tongue and let her continue, just wanting to see where this was going.

“But I can’t. You didn’t do this to me.” She said, vaguely motioning to the sling around her arm. “And it’s not your fault I’m… a bit of a mess. Especially these days…. Okay, actually that is your fault. A little.” She amended, chuckling a little sheepishly and without any hostility coloring her tone.

“You were right too. I don’t know who I am anymore. And being under your control was… it scared me, but I loved it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt safer. You seem to know me all too well and that scares the living shit out of me, if I’m being completely honest. You got under my skin in the worst… and in the best way possible and I want to hate you for that too. But I can’t.” Rhea sighed, looking away from me and at the ceiling for a moment and she let out a huffing sigh, clearing her throat harshly again to continue to keep the tears at bay.

“…So, what do you feel for me?” I dared ask. Hearing her say that she felt safe with me made my heart soar, but I needed to know where we went from here.

Rhea shook her head slightly before her watery eyes finally met mine again and she inched a little bit closer to me as she let herself sniffle.

Her crystal-blue eyes knocked the wind outta me every fucking time, even when they would lock on me with what I had thought was pure hatred.

Rhea tentatively reached out and laced our fingers together, elevating my hopes up that much more.

I gave her hand a squeeze and watched her thumb run back and forth over my hand and I was taken by surprise as she leaned in to press her lips against mine softly.

God knows how long we sat there, our tongues dancing slowly, teeth gently nibbling on bottom lips every so often and our hands still intertwined.

I heard Rhea whimper softly as my tongue swiped against hers again, my fingers running through her longer locks and lightly pulling it and making her inhale sharply.

But as she kissed back a little more eagerly, I finally remembered her injured arm.

Neither of us said another one as we slowly forced ourselves to pull our lips away to breathe.

We licked our bottom lips in unison, smiling as we did so before that earnest look was back on Rhea’s face.

“I can’t quite put a name to what I feel for you. But I do know that I really enjoyed what we did a few weeks ago. I really did.” Rhea emphasized with a wolfish grin that had me chuckling and shaking my head.

“Not having to think so much and not being so in control felt amazing. But I also enjoyed it afterwards. Being taken care of. It was nice.” She shrugged with a shyness I wasn’t used to seeing from her before that wolfish grin was back on her face, making me side-eye her. “…I’m sorry for being to you. But I’m not sorry about being a brat.” Rhea joked and I laughed heartily before I muffled the sound behind my palm, shaking my head again.

“I… yeah, I don’t expect that attitude to go anywhere any time soon. Or ever.” I snickered before I shrugged. “Luckily, I found out that it’s really fuckin’ fun to put you back in your place.” I said with a smirk of my own and muffled Rhea’s laughter as I kissed her deeply before I unbuckled the championship belt from around my waist and I folded it, and I placed it on the bedside table.

“So? When’s your flight back home?” I asked with zero expectations.

“6AM. Yaaay.” Rhea said and we both chuckled at her lack of excitement over having to be up and at ‘em that early in the morning.

“You wanna stay here tonight until your flight? Zero pressure.” I said, smiling as I received a lapful of Rhea in response and my hands immediately reached underneath her baggy shirt to stroke along the column of her spine, feeling a puff of breath against my shoulder as Rhea gave a deep sigh of contentment, her body melting against mine almost immediately.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

And this time, she did stay.

Part 2

[wandas-luvr]

you know just how to be cruel

pairing: leigh shaw x fem!reader

summary: leigh comes over in the middle of the night to ask you a favor.

warnings: 18+ minors dni! soft(ish)dom!leigh (she is still her regular amount of mean), idk probably mommy kink undertones because that's how i live now, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), praise, criminal amounts of teasing, leigh being a rude, condescending bitch but she makes it up to you, leigh being unrightfully possessive (but it's okay bc it's hot), mediocre aftercare bc leigh

-

you look at the clock on your phone as you hear a loud, repetitive knock at your door. you ignore it, deciding no good could come from suspicious knocking at 3:45 am on a thursday, sighing and turning over, getting sucked back into whatever trashy reality tv show was coming on.

then your phone buzzes. once. twice. three times in the span of a minute. before you even get the chance to pick it up to see who it is, you receive a call. you look at the caller id suspiciously: leigh shaw. you click to answer immediately, having heard the news about her husband just recently, wondering if she was calling after missing your condolences call when you were told.

before you could even get a word out you here her voice on the other end of the line. short and clipped, no room to argue or joke with her.

"i'm outside, let me in, it's cold out."

you get up and walk to the door, eyebrows furrowed, wondering why on earth leigh shaw would show up to your door at this hour, especially after what had happened with matt. upon opening you see leigh, clearly upset, but not appearing to be sad. the only thing you can see in her eyes is anger.

"leigh, what are you..?" you cut yourself off, not wanting to upset her more or make her feel unwelcome, "are you okay?"

she scoffs at you, rolling her eyes and walking straight past you into your home.

"don't do that, you know better."

you sigh, clearly, this would not be a very pleasant night.

"you're right, i'm sorry. i'll ask again, but if you get pissed, remember you're the one who told me to say it. what the fuck are you doing here?"

"better. lose the tone next time though, it's not cute on you. i need you to do me a favor."

you chuckle slightly, trying to lighten the mood or at least diffuse the tension the elephant in the room has been creating since she stepped into your apartment.

"awfully big talk for someone who is very rudely asking me for a favor."

"my husband died a month ago, i don't have to ask your permission to be bitter. and last time i checked, you weren't in charge of me."

you knew exactly what she was talking about. before she had met matt, she asked you to experiment with her, leading you through a series of heartbreaks and letdowns until you couldn't face it anymore and left her. throughout the six months the two of you were "together" she took you on a totally of five dates, showing up late to three of them. you had begun to feel like all she used you for was sex, and you simply couldn't bear it anymore. not when you were aching for her to love you the way she told you she did.

you look away, biting your lip, taking a deep breath to collect yourself. you didn't want to set her off, and she clearly wasn't in the right place to hear that she wasn't in charge of you either.

she walks towards you slowly, lifting your chin to encourage you to look up into her eyes, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

"you know what i'm here for, baby." she smiled, sickeningly sweet, with a condescending scrunch of her eyebrows and nod of her head. "the question is: are you gonna give it to me? hm?"

you freeze, you feel your chest constricting and can hear yourself swallow thickly, as you consider. ethically, you know it's wrong. you know it will only crush you and give leigh the quick distraction shes looking for, nothing more, but you can't help it. everything about her makes you lightheaded and weak in the knees, and you knew she'd take care of you, she always had been so generous.

"leigh...i don't think-"

"shh, baby, that's why it's perfect. you don't need to think with me, remember?" she looks into your eyes, looking for any signs of true unwillingness, before pressing the softest of kisses just behind your ear. you can feel her smile against your skin as your breath hitches, or course she remembered.

"love..?" she trails off, waiting for some sign of a response from you, settling for a simple look into her eyes. "are you gonna let me fuck you? make you feel good just like i used to?"

you bite your lip, nodding, mumbling a quiet "please.."

you watch the grin spread across her face, she knew she had you the moment you opened the door.

"see! i knew you'd remember how much you missed me!" she pushes you back toward your couch, leading you to sit on the arm as she stands between your legs, wrapping you up in a deep, heated kiss. "hmmm, that's my girl."

you almost retort, going to tell her she has no right to call you that, when, as if she could sense it, she tugged on your hair, clearly a preventative warning to watch your mouth.

as a reward for your obedience, you feel her lips start to move downward, drifting to your cheek, then your jaw, down to your neck, clearly leaving bruises in her wake.

she chuckles against your skin, hot breath tickling your neck, when you instinctively tip your head to give her more room. smiling at the way she'd created a pattern of muscle memory in you that would never fade no matter how many years passed.

you feel her hands untangle from your hair and drop to your thighs, before she pulls back to look at you: flushed and breathless before she'd even started with you. she gently rubs her thumbs in place, causing you to squirm towards her, barely stifling an embarrassing whine. you internally cringe as you can see the gears turning in her head, watching her piece together your reactions, before she gasps softly, clearly having figured you out.

"awww, sweetheart, it's been a while hasn't it? no one's touched you in so long, i bet you're just soaked," her hands drift towards your pajamas shorts, her fingers pulling the flimsy material aside to get a pick at your panties. "oh, honey, look at you. you made such a mess for me! oh, i bet you're just aching, aren't you?"

you nod, canting your hips up as you feel her fingertips barely ghosting along the gusset of your panties. she shoots you a look, cowing you immediately, your pleasure had always been on her terms.

she smiles, before clearly growing impatient herself, pulling your panties to the side and lightly running two fingers between your folds. a shiver wracks your body as she gasps at your wetness, playing with it between her fingers cockily. something about her soft smirk would never fail to make you clench around nothing.

you feel her fingers run up your slit as slow as human possible, until they finally reach your clit, your head tipping back and mouth opening the minute her fingers so much as graze it.

"awww," she exclaims through a chuckle, "god, you really were aching for it. that's it, pretty girl, you just shut your eyes and enjoy it. no thinking, just let it feel good, yeah?"

you nod, moaning softly, as her fingers start to circle your clit, just the way she knew you liked. your nails digging into the arm of the sofa underneath you as leigh played you like a fiddle, muttering dirty phrases under her breath endlessly.

"fuck, you look so good. does that feel nice, baby? oh, i bet it does, sweet girl! yeah, you're welcome, honey, i know this is what you needed."

as you pant and moan underneath her leigh decides she's bored of this, wordlessly bending down to her knees in front of you, fingers drifting downward as well to circle your entrance. laughing when she feels how you try to suck her fingers in as you clench around nothing.

"leigh, please, i need you..." you moan out without thinking, desperate to get her to finally fuck you, "i need you so bad, leigh...please? i'll be good."

"hmm, good girl, begging and i haven't even asked you to yet. just fucking perfect for me." she mutters under her breath as she sinks her fingers into you, blowing softly on your clit to watch your hips jump. "there you go, take it for me, baby. you can do it, come on, be a good girl and just take what i give you."

you moan loudly, grip on the sofa tightening as your nails dig into the fabric. legs subconsciously spreading wider for her of their own accord, every movement of your body fine tuned to her liking.

"that's it, baby, tell me how good it feels. i like to hear that i'm doing a good job." she jokes, winking at you when you fake playfully at her before shutting you up with her mouth on your clit.

your eyes squeeze shut, moaning as she sucks your clit into her mouth, alternating with the pace of her fingers sliding in and out of you expertly. she grins against you, knowing she's winding you up in exactly the right way, touching all the right spots and saying all the right things to make you want her that much more.

she speeds up her pace, apparently intent on having you ruin the upholstery on your couch, smirking when she feels the telltale clench of your walls around her fingers.

"shhh, baby, you have to quiet down, okay? we wouldn't want you to wake up the neighbors, right?" she smiles condescendingly before doubling her efforts, intentionally making you louder for her just to watch you flush at the thought and try to quiet back down before repeating the cycle.

within minutes, she has you cumming on her fingers and her tongue, gripping her hair as she insists on cleaning you up just to hear you whine under her as she teases your sensitive clit.

"leigh, i-"

"shhh, baby, she don't have to talk about it. all we need to know is that it made me feel better, and it definitely made you feel better." she grins, pulling you against her and kissing your head softly, allowing you to lay against her as you catch your breath.

[compassionatereminders]

Your inbox tag is so inviting, if it's okay I *will* talk to you, cause I'm in a bit of a painful pickle :(

I don't know if my partner is cheating, and it's driving me insane

Starting about a week ago, they (gender kept ambiguous to avoid any sort of instinctive judge mm sent - not that you're prone to it, but others tend to be) started behaving a little oddly. I noticed they were on Snapchat, but I couldn't see who they were snapping or what was being said. It only bothered me because normally they tell me 'I've been taking to my friend so-and-so', and they didn't mention at all that they were talking to anyone.

I stewed on it for a while, because I didn't want to make it a big deal if it wasn't. Except then they started hiding their phone screen. Like, tilting away from me in the car, screen brightness turned low, always keeping their phone in their pocket around me when it used to be out almost all the time.

We went out a few days ago and their behavior was odd again - I ended up snapping, "damn if you'd rather be elsewhere, sorry" . twenty minutes later, we talked about it - it was addressed immediately. Because here's the thing about my partner: they don't like unnecessary bullshit. I know that for a fact. They've been cheated on before in their prior relationship, they know it sucks. I'm not very attractive (I'm just kinda average), and I have very low self esteem - that is to say, I'm not easy to be around, but they make an effort to be around me anyway. Which is why my head is in such a tizzy. Since before and even after their weird behavior they've talked more frequently about us getting married one day, always being the one to bring it up first.

I think I know who they're messaging specifically, because I *know* they've been getting snaps from someone specific - I managed to see the name notification *once* - and after our little spat, they told me a number of friends they've been talking to, and pointedly didn't say the persons name.

I get friend recommendations based on their friends - we were looking over my phone, and that persons name was in the list ; my partner told me how they knew everyone else, but didn't even remark on that person.

I'm rambling, I'm sorry. I'm a little intoxicated. I'm just broken up about things, because I was so certain just two weeks ago that I was going to one day marry my partner, but now I can feel myself emotionally retracting "just in case," and I don't want to bring the topic up again because we had a long talk just yesterday about trust and I was placated until today, and I probably *do* have to bring it up, but I don't want to cause a rift for 'not trusting them' especially if it IS nothing;;; but I don't want to (potentially) be mollified by gentle words, because I *DO* trust that they mean what they say---aHHH I don't want conversations I want FACTS

:'(((( they're a good person, they are. I'm hard to be around, and hard to be with. They wouldn't put up with me if they didn't genuinely care. I'm just scared because I *also* genuinely care.

Their Snapchat score went up by 14 in 45 minutes, I'm taking another shot of alcohol ;;;;;

I think you have to confront it. Because whether this is actually happening or not, walking around with these suspicions and insecurities without communicating about it will negatively affect the relationship even if your partner isn't actually cheating on you. So the worst thing you can do is sit with this in silence and let the bitterness and paranoia snowball into a chain reaction you won't be able to stop

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

The Modern Lovers - Boston Center for the Arts, Boston, Massachusetts, February 23, 1974

The end of the Original Modern Lovers? This might've been the band's final official gig — thanks to Jesse J for passing along a recently surfaced tape. Jesse calls the recording's quality "atrocious," and he's not wrong (though it's as much the fault of the venue's cavernous acoustics as it is the tape's). Whatever, atrocious quality audience recordings are what Doom & Gloom is all about, am I right? So adjust your ears and take a trip back to a bitter New England winter just about 50 years ago.

Historic/interesting stuff! The set sees the Modern Lovers attempting to bring together their older, more VU-inspired material with the quieter, more innocent songs that Jonathan Richman was writing. There are tunes that will certainly be familiar — "Roadrunner," "Government Center," "Pablo Picasso," etc. And then there are several strong songs that — as far as I know — don't appear anywhere else in the Modern Lovers' discography (officially or unofficially). And hey, it all works pretty well; in some alternate universe, the band might've been able to reconcile their two sides and finally record a proper debut LP. It was not to be, alas — soon, Jerry Harrison would head back to Harvard to get his master's degree in architecture. And today, he is renowned as one of the world's greatest architects ... right???

Of course, we have to note the truly bonkers lineup — a heretofore unknown alignment with the Velevet (sic) Underground and George Thorogood galaxies. Though if the description below is correct (though the source says the date was Valentine's Day), Moe Tucker didn't even get to play because of George. That's truly b-b-b-b-bad. But, as Jesse pointed out, Jonathan and Moe did make it into the studio a few days later to record their charming rendition of the VU's "I'm Sticking With You." Was Moe's band really called the Bloody Virgins?! Hmmm, further investigation is warranted.

An eyewitness account? Although the Modern Lovers broke up in 1973, they reformed in '74 (maybe late '73) with a different drummer but that didn't last long because the drummer hated Jonathan. They did at least one concert: Valentine's Day 1974. I was there early with Jonathan so I got to see all the sound checks for all three bands. Unfortunately, the idiot promoters let the mediocre opening band, George Thoroughlynogood and the Delaware Destroyers, play for one hour and 45 minutes. They should have had 25 minutes max. Thus, the Modern Lovers could only play one hour. And the second band couldn't play at all, which is very unfortunate, as it was Mo Tucker's excellent (and totally unknown) all-girl band the Bloody Virgins (but me and Jonathan got to watch their excellent 25-minute sound check). Seven or either years ago, an internet music forum was discussing Mo, and I talked about seeing that band. A noted music critic (and friend of Mo) was pissed off and said that Mo never had any such band and that I was a liar. Luckily, I still had the concert ad and uploaded a photo of it to the forum.

Ernie Brooks: At one of the last gigs we did, when we played “Roadrunner,” we still didn’t have a record out, but that was always a catchy song, and we actually got some applause—and then Jonathan said, “People like that song too much; I don’t think we should do it anymore….” I think it was just part of Jonathan’s natural inclination that when things seemed to be going well—to go against it. He was very contrary. He was very difficult. I mean, anybody who is on to something new has some element of being a contrarian, because they’re rejecting the status quo. They’re doing something in the way they’ve figured out how to do it—and they don’t want to hear something different, even if it could make things better. When Jonathan said, “I won’t play 'Roadrunner' anymore,” it was pretty much the classic case—you can’t really get any more contrarian than that.

[sixhours]

Chapter 9 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

The New Year arrives in a swirl of bitter cold and snow. You’ve quietly accepted that you’ll be in Jackson until at least spring; FEDRA has stopped sending all but the most basic touchpoint communications, confirming you’re still alive. The roads between outposts are snowed in; you imagine FEDRA soldiers stationed in the middle of the barren, snow-coated landscape, like statues waiting to thaw.

You’re working at the front desk when Joel shows up in the infirmary, hands in his pockets, looking stoic and lost.

“Miller? Everything okay?”

He clears his throat. “Uh…you said something about an echo…thing.”

You blink up at him, bemused. “That was months ago.”

He scowls. “M’here now.”

You consider turning him away, but the clinic is surprisingly dead. You suspect most of the town is nursing some pretty powerful hangovers this morning.

And then, there’s the orange. The one you haven’t eaten, but is stored in your fridge. The one you take out just to sniff. And now Mr. “Don’t get your hopes up” is standing in front of you looking hopelessly awkward and almost…endearing.

You sigh. “Fine, let’s do it. I’ll get the ultrasound ready.”

He follows you to the back of the clinic as you pull out the ancient machine, plugging it in, waiting for the computer to boot up.

“You’re lucky I don’t have any other patients yet,” you say. “I heard the New Year’s party was a big one. Though I suppose without fireworks, there’s less chance of someone blowing off an arm.”

He grunts in agreement, sitting up on the table.

“Shirt off,” you say. “I can turn around or I can leave, it’s up to you.”

But he’s already unbuttoning his flannel, pulling his undershirt over his head.

“Any shortness of breath? Chest pains?”

He shakes his head.

“Cold,” you say, barely a half-second of warning as you squirt a dollop of lube directly onto his chest. He sucks in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding.”

You quirk your lips. “Sorry, bedside manner’s not really my thing.”

The machine’s monitor is fuzzy, forcing you to lean in and squint at the shadows as you move the wand over his chest, pressing in, tilting from side to side to see each of the ventricles, searching for dark spots. The ultrasound speakers scratch out a steady heartbeat.

“83 beats per minute, a bit fast,” you say. “But…contrary to popular belief…you have a heart, Miller.”

“Funny.”

You’ve been moving the wand over his chest for several minutes, watching the rhythmic contractions of muscle and trying to make sense of what you’re seeing given your very basic knowledge of cardiology, when you become aware that he’s watching you intently.

You meet his eyes and the BPM reading on the monitor starts to climb, a persistent throb echoing in the air. He clears his throat with some difficulty.

“So are you, uh…only interested in women?”

“That’s a personal question.”

He shrugs, and you tsk softly. “Don’t move, I’ll lose the picture.”

“Figured we were past the whole small talk thing by now.”

“Ellie’s right. You have no social skills,” you say, biting your lip, leaning in, as though closing the gap by a few inches would make up for the fact that the poor machine is dying.

“Guilty,” he says, but he smiles as he says it, that come-fuck-me glint in his eyes.

“No,” you sigh, sitting back. “I’m not only interested in women.”

“So…are you, uh…free tomorrow night?”

You blink. “Are you asking me on a date, Miller?”

He opens his mouth to deny it but then…doesn’t. You’ve been done with the echo for five minutes, but there’s a sordid pleasure in watching macho-man Joel Miller literally squirm under your hands, half naked and covered in goop, his nervousness pounding out over the thready speakers.

“Because it would be very…unprofessional…to date one of my patients.”

He narrows his eyes, lowering his voice until it’s almost a growl. “But fucking ‘em is fine?”

“Different profession, whole different code of ethics,” you say easily. You turn off the ultrasound and wipe the excess lube off his chest with a clean towel. “Let’s say I can be free. What did you have in mind?”

He shakes his head. “Not tellin’.”

“The man likes a mystery,” you say airily, turning around to shuck your gloves into the trash and wash your hands at the sink. You hear him shrugging on his shirt. His voice comes from over your shoulder, close enough to feel his breath on your neck.

“I’ll be there at nine. Wear somethin’ warm.”

~*~

He shows up at the door with a backpack and a bedroll, dressed like he’s ready for patrol. You’ve done the same, bundled up in flannel-lined jeans, thick wool socks, and the puffy down coat that makes you look like a marshmallow.

“So where are we going?” you ask, following him out into the biting air.

“S’a surprise,” he says.

You eye the travel pack with the bedroll slung over his good shoulder warily. “I don’t like surprises, Miller.”

His lips twitch in amusement but he doesn’t say anything. He takes a left off the main drag and you realize that you’re heading for the stables. He clicks on a flashlight to guide you across the field as you leave the warmly lit center of Jackson.

“Is this a good time to tell you I don’t know how to ride?” you ask.

“Don’t need to,” he says easily. “C’mon.”

He rounds a corner and heads to the back of the stables, where bales of straw lay stacked in a stair-like formation against the wall. Without waiting for you, he starts to climb them.

“I think this flies in the face of sound medical advice for a guy with a busted shoulder,” you call, watching him test the next step, and the next, until he’s standing on the gentle slope of the stable roof.

“My shoulder’s fine. You comin’ or not?”

“Fine,” you say, testing your weight on the first bale. “But I’m not on call. If you break something, I’m not going to fix you.”

“Deal,” he says, reaching out a roughened hand to pull you up.

You walk up the roof, avoiding patches of ice, until you can peer over the edge’s fifteen-foot drop. Joel kneels, unclasping the bedroll and taking a large thermos and two mugs out of his pack. He unfurls the heavy Army-issue sleeping bag and spreads it out, indicating for you to sit, then uncaps the thermos. It releases a thick cloud of fragrant steam.

“Coffee. Real coffee,” he says pointedly, filling and handing you one of the mugs. You take the first sip, and he’s right; it’s infinitely better than the stuff at the mess hall and leagues above your crystallized stash, but you’ll never admit it. You wrap your fingers around the heated ceramic. He reaches over to clink your mugs together in a toast before taking a drink.

“What the hell are we doing up here, Miller?”

He sets down his mug and then lays back on the blanket, pulling you down. Your coffee sloshes over the side of the cup. “Wait–”

“S’time for the show.”

He turns off the flashlight, and for a moment you’re blind, eyes adjusting to the total lack of light. The sensation is so completely disorienting that you feel like you’re falling, and you involuntarily clutch at Joel’s arm to steady yourself.

When your vision returns, you see nothing but stars in an endless arcing dome. The stable roof faces away from the town; no other lights are visible out here. In the sharp stillness of the cold air, you think you can see every pinprick of light in the sky.

“Whoa,” you sigh, your breath temporarily clouding the starry landscape in front of you. Joel’s arm flexes under your hand in quiet acknowledgment. You see a flickering light out of the corner of your eye. Then another, and another. Soon you’re watching dozens of meteors trail across the sky’s black curtain.

“Ellie found this space almanac,” Joel murmurs. “It has all these dates for stuff like this. Quadra…somethin’-or-other.”

“Quadrantids,” you say, pulling from a distant memory. Camping when you were 10, your father pointing out the constellations, your fingers sticky with chocolate and marshmallows as you wished on as many shooting stars as you could see.

You edge closer to Joel’s side, seeking out his warmth but unwilling to take your eyes off the show. You feel him moving around for a minute, hear the zip of his pack opening, and then he drapes another blanket over the both of you, something thick and soft. You pull it to your chin.

“Thanks,” you murmur, willing your teeth not to clack together. “God it’s…beautiful.”

Joel makes a soft sound of agreement.

Your eyes keep trying to watch for more meteors; they flicker in your peripheral vision, always just out of reach until the last second. Eventually, you stop trying, letting your eyes go unfocused so you can see as much of the spectacle before you as possible.

“I used to feel lonely, looking up like this,” you say after a while. “Maybe lonely isn’t the right word; insignificant, I guess. But now…I find it comforting. They’ve been here for billions of years, and they’ll be here long after we’re gone. The world fell apart…and it wasn’t even a blip on the universe’s radar. But we still have the stars.”

“And sheep ranches on the moon,” Joel whispers, and you finally let your eyes drift away from the sky, facing him.

“Sheep ranches?”

“It’s nothin’. Look, ‘nother one,” he says, pointing, and you follow his gaze to a cluster of descending meteors. Your breaths mingle in the crystallized air. You watch until you can’t feel your cheeks, until your arms and legs prickle and go numb. 

The soft sounds of the stable rise up from beneath you; hooves on straw, huffing and shuffling. Suddenly there’s another sound.

Is that giggling?

Joel looks at you as if to confirm you’ve heard it, too. You nod, and he puts a finger to his lips. He rolls over and creeps to the edge of the roof, peering over the side. You follow after a beat, missing his solid warmth beside you.

In the dark you see the faint shadow of a couple–kids, from the sound of it–sneaking into the barn across from the stables.

“Idiots,” Joel says, but in the dim glow you can see he’s smirking. The sounds of little gasps, kissing, more giggles. You can see articles of clothing being removed and you shiver, wondering if you’ll be treating frostbite on some poor kid’s ass tomorrow.

“Should we say something?”

“Depends–is 15 too young to be a baby mama, doc?” And you know he’s thinking of Ellie, wondering who she’s sneaking off to the barn with when he’s not able to watch her.

You don’t tell him that’s unlikely to be a problem.

“Good point. Yeah, let’s break up the fun.”

“Hey!” Joel growls, standing. “You kids get outta there!”

There are muffled gasps, a frantic dash for clothes, a breathy, “ Shit! ”

“ Go !” the girl hisses, and you both watch, chuckling as they scramble away.

“Real ‘get off my lawn’ energy there, old man,” you say, elbowing him gently, tucking your hands under your arms to try to warm them.

He snorts, rubbing his own hands against the thighs of his jeans to brush them off. You meet his eyes in the faint light, holding his gaze for just a touch longer than necessary.

“Walk me home, Miller,” you say finally, tucking your arm under his. “I’m freezing.”

You pass the string lights in the square, the big tree, and the clinic. He’s quiet, almost shy, as you walk up the steps of your porch. You don’t know how to reconcile the man who fucked you up against the kitchen wall with the one standing before you.

As if reading your thoughts, he mumbles, “I haven’t, uh…done this in–”

“I’m pretty sure this is the part where you kiss me goodnight.”

He gives you the faintest smile before leaning in and dropping a chaste peck at the corner of your mouth. Your face has long since gone numb from the biting air, but you feel the warmth of his lips on your skin.

And then he’s backing away, down the steps, down the street, into the darkness…and you wonder what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.

[boyfridged]

by all means gotham knights 45 is one of the most disturbing batman stories and while i appreciate it for bruce's partial self-awareness, the guilt complex and ugly grief, the way the whole family engages in victim-blaming, their dismissive attitude when it comes to jason's suffering, the fact that they treat the whole thing as nuance or an attack at their egos, truly makes me surprised that some read it as a story about bruce's sensitivity. it's a good batman story if you want jason whump maybe. or if you want to talk of bruce's hypocrisy. but this is not what the intention of the writer probably was. what the writer wanted was for the reader to buy into the "jason-was-doomed-from-the-start" narrative that for the most part absolves bruce of any fault. it wants you to believe that bruce's good intentions erase the blatant classism of both the editorial and in-universe character logic. this is why when bruce reiterates the words from dc #574 about wanting the best for jason but instead killing him, this time it lands flat. "i allowed him to have hope... and it killed him." is what bruce says, suggesting that jay was devoid of it without him, and once again enforcing the idea that his background made him cynical and damned, waiting for a savior. but that's just not true. it undermines the very premise of jason's robin run and aditf itself. and alfred saying that jason had a father but what he needed was a mother, which within the context of the whole narrative the reader is supposed to believe too- what a joke. i just can't help but think that gk #45 was simply written with ill intent and without taking itself seriously. it briefly recognises the questionable nature of the sidekick institution- especially in jay's case, just to sneer at jason's pain the next moment. it's all so bitter and disingenuous.

[asma-al-husna]

Allah calls Himself Al-Qadeer— The Powerful— on one occasion in the Quran. Al-Qadeer is the One with complete power. He is the One who decrees; He simply says, Be! and it is.  Al-Qadeer needs no means to do anything!

The Powerful, The All-Capable

Qadeer comes from the root qaaf-daal-raa, which points to four main meanings. The first meaning is to have the power to accomplish, to be capable. The second is to measure, to distribute something, or to make manifest. The third is to decree or ordain and the fourth is to prevail.

This root appears 132 times in the Quran in 11 derived forms. Examples of these forms are yaqdiru (“he has power”), qaddarnaa (“we have decreed”), al-qadr (“of power”) and qaadirun (“is Able”).

Allah ‘azza wajal refers to Himself with the nominal qadeer 45 times in the Quran, of which one mention is Al-Qadeeru, The Powerful.

Linguistically qadeer, qaadir, and muqtadir are all derived from the root qaaf-daal-raa and all of them demonstrate that power is established as an attribute of Allah and that He has absolute Power. He is the One who is capable of doing everything, who has perfect power over the creation, who measures everything with perfection, and who is the One who decrees all that was, is, and will ever be. His ability combined with His infinite Knowledge makes Him Al-Qadeer and Al-Aleem!

Al-Qadeer Himself says: . . . Allah is the one who created you from weakness, then made after weakness strength, then made after strength weakness and white hair. He creates what He wills, and He is the Knowing, the Competent [Quran, 30:54]

. . . Blessed is He in whose hand is dominion, and He is over all things competent [Quran, 67:1]

… If He wills, He can do away with you, O people, and bring others [in your place]. And ever is Allah competent to do that [Quran, 4:133].

Power and Mercy

Al-Qadeer has the power to replace a whole nation with another one in whatever way He wants. With His power He can make large pieces of the earth lifeless and at the same time grant or withhold great amounts of possessions from whomever He wills.

Just as the power of His punishment is unparalleled, so is His power to grant mercy to His sincere slaves. As a reward for their patience, certainty of faith, and trust in Him, Al-Qadeer uses His power to help His servants out of difficulties.

We find beautiful examples of His power in saving Ibrahim ‘alayhi sallam from the fire, Yunus ‘alayhi sallam from the belly of the fish, Yusuf ‘alayhi sallam from the well, and the other innumerable moments He helps, relieves, saves, and comforts His servants throughout their lives.

How Can You Live By This Name?

1. Know that everything is predestined.

How often have you been upset because you’ve lost money, possessions, or a job? Some even respond immediately by asking, Why me? What did I do wrong?

Remind yourself in good and bad times of the following powerful hadith and let it increase you in tawakkul (reliance) upon Al-Qadeer at all times! The Prophet salallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam said: Know that even if the whole community were to gather together to benefit you with something, they would not benefit you with anything except that which Allah has already recorded for you, and that if they gather together to harm you with something, they would not be able to harm you with anything except that which Allah has already recorded against you. [At-Tirmidhee]

Cure your heart from rancor and envy by believing that all affairs are by the decree of Al-Qadeer!

2. Be content.

Follow the pious predecessors by striving to be content with the decree of Al-Qadeer. This means that you realize that everything that happens to you is pre-destined but also that you try to not feel any bitterness when you are tested.

Rida (contentment) is the praiseworthy station of not only recognizing, but also being pleased with the decree of Allah. Don’t ever let your love for Al-Qadeer decrease when something doesn’t go your way! Contentment is the greatest door that one enters to Allah, It is the source of tranquility for the worshiper and paradise on earth. Whoever does not enter it will not enter the Paradise in the Hereafter [Ibn Taymiyyah]

3. Pray istakhaarah.

Whenever you have a decision to make, no matter how big or small, consult Al-Qadeer and ask Him to choose what is best for you and your deen, in this life and in the Hereafter, by praying the sunnah istakhaarah prayer.

4. Say alhamdulillah.

It’s easy to say alhamduilliah when good happens to you, but we should also praise Al-Qadeer when we go through hardship. Next time you are tested, say alhamdulillah from your heart and mean it, and inspire others to do so!  Alhamdulillah ‘alaa kulli haal – all praise belongs to Allah in any case or siltation, no matter what He decrees!

5. Express your need to Al-Qadeer.

By nature we love those who are competent. For example, when you are weak you desire the protection of someone who is strong. Know that Al-Qadeer can make everything happen by His Power, so ask Him. Seek refuge in Him for protection, ask Him to cure your heart, and know that there is no limit to His power.

Only Al-Qadeer is able and fully capable to give you a way out of every difficulty. The Prophet salallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam said, If anyone constantly seeks pardon (from Allah), Allah will appoint for him a way out of every distress and a relief from every anxiety, and will provide sustenance for him from where he expects not. [Abu Dawud]. So increase your istighfaar (seeking forgiveness) by saying astaghfirullah.

Wallahu ta’alaa ‘alem.

O Allah, Al-Qadeer we know that Your power is perfect.  Adorn us with patience and contentment with your decree and help us inspire others to do so. Help us to turn to You and to consult You in big and small matters, and enable us to seek Your forgiveness in abundance. Ameen!

[obsolescent]

Kinktober - Day 19

Prompt: Sharing/swapping clothes

Pairing: Billy Coen x Reader

Author’s Notes: Once again another character I haven’t written for but I’m so excited to start! They need to bring him back!! Enjoy. 

Content Warnings: AFAB reader, gender neutral reader, dirty talk, rough sex, squirting, table sex, unprotected sex, semi-clothed sex, breeding kink, creampie.

Kinktober Masterlist

5:47 PM

The clock’s bright red numbers seem to be glaring at you as you run around frantically, tossing on your clothes and shoes as you search for your keys.

You have to pick a friend up from the airport at 6:45, it takes about an hour to drive there. You’re already behind schedule and your lost keys ain’t helping.

Rummaging through the cabinets, picking up the couch cushions, and even checking the fridge (you’ve done it before) leaves you empty-handed. Letting out a frustrated groan, your hands run down your sweaty face, trying to think about the last time you had your keys.

Like a light bulb appearing over your head, you remembered the last place you had yet to look for them. Running over to the closet near the front door, you swing it open, snatching your lunchbox off the hook and opening it.

Keys seem to be literally sparkling as you yank them out of the bag, a loud “THANK THE LORD” leaving your mouth while you toss the lunchbox back into the closet, it hitting the floor with a thump. You’ll deal with all this carnage you turned the house into after fulfilling your promise to your friend.

Grabbing your belongings, you open the door and you’re basically slapped in the face by the harsh, bitter winds of winter. You definitely need to grab a jacket, and without thinking, you snag the nearest one that sticks out from the left open closet. Billy’s military jacket, the thick green material perfect against the cold.

Sliding your arms through the sleeves as you walk outside and lock the front door, you send a text to your friend about the situation, and that you’re on the way now. You also send a text to Billy, letting him know beforehand about the mess you left, telling him you’ll straighten up later.

After arriving at the airport, picking your friend up and taking them home, you pull back into your driveway at 9:30, the porch light now on and Billy’s pickup in the garage. Turning the car off and hopping out, you make your way up the steps and unlock the front door, shutting and locking it again. You see Billy’s dark head of hair peeking out against the light colored couch, one of his arms slung over the back of it. He turns his head as he hears the door opening, expression hard to read. ‘He’s probably a little ticked off by the way I left things’ you think to yourself, giving him a sheepish smile as you take your shoes off.

“Sorry about all the cattywampus in here, I’ll pick it up now,” you begin, setting your keys where they’re supposed to go, on the hooks situated by the door. You turn around and almost collide into Billy’s frame, startled that he moved so fast and quietly. You gasp, jumping back on instinct but his arms wrap around you, pulling you into his warmth.

“Jesus, you scared me, don’t sneak up on me like that,” you say, playfully slapping at his chest. He huffs, “Wearing my jacket, darling?” He asks, brown eyes taking you in. “Oh! Sorry, I was in such a rush I just grabbed the first one I saw, here,” Going to step back from his grasp to remove said jacket, Billy pulls you back into his clutches. 

He hums, “Didn’t say it was a bad thing, baby,” his voice lowered, lidded eyes and smirk cluing you in to how he really feels, “Huh, who knew I’d like seeing you in my clothes this much,” Billy’s hand slides underneath your shirt, his hand a pleasant yet surprising feeling against your chilled skin. 

A smaller gasp leaves you this time, eyes falling shut from his touch. Both hands now securely around your sides, he lifts you up, surprising you once more. Legs wrapping around his waist as he makes his way to the dining table, the nearest surface. 

Setting you on top of it, he pulls your shirt up past your chest, thumbs grazing your nipples as he moves in upwards. Already feeling yourself grow wet, your legs instinctively spread, allowing him to meld his crotch against yours. 

Though he pulls back for a moment, pulling your bottoms down and off your body, pushing your upper half to lay down against the wood. “Yeah, even better,” he murmurs, taking in your red face, the only articles of clothing left on your body being the shirt scrunched up to your collarbone, his jacket, and your socks. 

Pulling back, his eyes cast downward at your exposed pussy, thumbing the lips apart and gathering the wetness. You moan, head tilting back when you feel him spit onto your hole, smearing it around before dipping one of his fingers inside you. 

“D-damn, all this because of your j-jacket–ah” you manage to get out before another finger slides in and he begins to set a pace. He shrugs nonchalantly, like he isn’t knuckle deep inside you at the moment, “Guess I know what I like.”

His fingers curl and twist, opening you up for him. You cry out when you feel a rush of liquid spurt out, trickling down onto the table. Humming, “There you go,” as you squirt on his fingers. Pulling said fingers out leaves you cold, beginning to close your legs before he pries them apart once more, having pulled down his sweats and his cock stands at attention.

Once you see him lining himself up against your opening, you pull him in with your ankles locked together around his waist, helping him to glide in. Fully seated inside, pelvis flush with the backs of your thighs, he cups the back of your head and lifts it up, allowing you to see the two of you connected. 

Grabbing his forearms, you brace yourself for his movements. Billy almost pulls out all the way, plunging back into you with a squelch. Moaning at the same time, he keeps your head up, letting you watch as he fucks you. “Might have to be the only thing you wear around the house from now on, just my jacket, my shirts,” he groans, “Fuck, nothing on but that, baby. Letting me see that pretty ass and body whenever I want.” 

You whimper at his words, cock plummeting in and out, table shaking, stuttering against the floor. Tangling your fingers in his dark brown locks, nails scratching at his scalp. In an instant he flips you onto your stomach, surprising you once more before sinking back into your cunt, fingers digging into the fat on your hips. 

Grabbing at the table’s edge for stability, you let out noises at each thrust into you, loving how possessive Billy’s being. As if reading your thoughts, he resumes talking, “All mine, ain’t you? Loved being handled by me, huh?” Cunt clenching against him tells him his answer, “ Heh, you sure do. Fill you, knock you up, that’ll definitely make you mine, won’t it?” 

His words send electricity through you. You nod, mumbling out uh huh’s, forehead laying against the surface of the table. “Want y-you to cum in me, get me pregnant, m’yours,” you gasp out. Making a sound in his throat, his grip tightens against you, “Goddamn, making me lose my mind,” he grits out.

He shifts his hold, one arm sliding under you, lifting you up against his chest, the other making quick motions against your neglected clit, bringing you near the brink. Billy gasps into your ear, shooting his load into your cunt, sticky warmth coating you as the feeling sends you into your own orgasm, his finger continuing their nimble ministrations. 

Feeling what release your pussy couldn’t contain trickle down your thighs, you slump against him, both of you feeling content in the moment. He slides out, patting your ass as he props you against the table, going to fetch a cloth to wipe up the mess dribbling out of your used hole.

Cleaning you up, he sees the satisfied look on your face and grins. “Fucked you good, huh? More where that came from if you keep wearing my shit.” You roll your eyes and stand up straight, wobbling a bit before tossing your bottoms back on. “Don’t get too cocky. Now help me clean up, please?” You beg and he scoffs, but relents, helping you straighten up.