#ten whole years and y’all are still going??

[sleepyjuice]

patience is a virtue - jj maybank

Summary: you finally get on birth control, which means you and jj finally get to raw dog it, whoop

Warnings: 18+!!!!!!!! SMUT, p in v sex (reader is on birth control but theoretically both parties are tested and clean and exclusively sleeping with each other), little bit of praise kink, cream pie, fluff? soft jj <3

wc: 2771 wtf 🫣

A/N: so I decided to start writing again and then this happened lol. I’m probably rusty and this is my first time writing for jj so I hope it’s okay and y’all enjoy!!!<3

Jj had been counting down the days until your doctor's appointment. You were finally getting on birth control, the arm implant, to be specific. You had done your research, as well as an initial consultation with your doctor to go over all of your options and decided that the ‘one and done’ route would be the best for you.

You and jj had been together for a little over a year, using condoms every time you had sex. As much as you both liked the security of you not getting pregnant, you both wanted more, you both craved more. Not only that, but you had irregular and horribly painful periods and when your doctor mentioned that being on birth control could stop your periods, that was more than enough to convince you to take that step.

The day finally came, though, and jj insisted on driving you to your appointment, ignoring your assurance that it was a quick and easy procedure.

“jj, it’s not like I’m getting put under for a major surgery or something, it’ll probably be only like ten minutes. No medicine or anything.” You told him as you buckled your seatbelt. There was no changing his mind.

jj rolled his eyes as he started up the twinkie, already having made arrangements with john b over a week ago to let him borrow the van.

“I know, baby, but this is a big moment, wanna be there for you.” He said with a grin, pulling onto the road and starting towards your doctor’s office.

“Well, I appreciate it. I honestly think you’re more excited than I am.” You giggled, glancing over at your boyfriend as you pulled your hair up into a ponytail.

“Now what makes you say that?” He teased, knowing damn well he had this appointment marked in his phone calendar and his extra ass even drew a dick and a smiley face on your little desk calendar you had.

You had arrived shortly after, and just as you predicted, the whole appointment only took about ten minutes and was pretty painless. jj waited in the car for you to be done, smiling ecstatically at you once he saw you make your way out the office doors and towards the twinkie.

“How was it? Did it hurt?” He asked as soon as you got into the car, looking at your arm that was now wrapped in a bright pink bandage.

You shook your head, leaning across the seat to softly kiss your boyfriend, his hands finding your hair first before slowly trailing down your body to rub on your thighs as he deepened the kiss. You knew exactly what he was trying to do, so you pulled away with a laugh.

“Nope, nope, don’t even think about it. This thing doesn’t start working for seven days.” You told him, smiling innocently at him as you watched his face drop. You swore all the light in his eyes left his body for a second. He was so dramatic.

You were obviously disappointed too. It would have been nice to go straight home and have what would probably be the best sex of your life right away. But then you would have to go and buy a Plan B, and then this would all be for nothing.

“Now what the fuck? How are they gonna call this shit modern medicine but that shit doesn’t start working for a week?” jj scoffed, one of his hands still resting on your thigh while his other raised to softly graze your bandage, “like, they put a whole ass stick in your arm. What’s it even doing for these seven days? Just sitting in there doing nothing? They really need to make advancements to this shit.” he rambled on, but he couldn’t help but start laughing once you did.

“You are the most dramatic person I have ever met. We just gotta wait it out. Although, with all this anticipation, hopefully you can last more than a minute.” You mumbled the last part, your gaze leaving jj’s as you buckled your seatbelt, knowing he would start huffing over your comment.

And that he did, huffing as he started the car, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s — shut the fuck up. Don’t act like this won’t be torture for you, too.” He mumbled back, backing out of the parking lot and heading towards the chateau.

It had been a long week since your appointment. You and jj had never gone this long without having sex. You could have still used a condom in the meantime, but after a conversation in bed the first night, you had both decided to wait until you could do it raw for the first time. You were struggling, to say the least, but you had more composure than jj did all week.

He wasn’t making it easy though. The way he cuddled against you in bed, his hard dick pressing into your lower back made you crave the feeling of him inside of you. You almost caved multiple times every time he touched you, you just wanted more. But he respected your agreement, even though it was just as torturous for him. Touching your skin, seeing the way the bottom of your ass cheeks stuck out of the bottom of your shorts, all he wanted to do was rip your clothes off and bury himself inside of you. But he could wait, it would be worth it.

It couldn’t have been more perfect timing. Day seven had finally come around and your beautiful and wonderful friends all happened to have plans, which meant you and jj had the chateau to yourselves. It truly felt like a gift from god.

It was late morning, the soft glow of the sun peaking through the sheer blinds of the bedroom jj had made his own had woken you from your sleep. jj was still sleeping soundly next to you, his face pressed against your neck, an arm draped firmly across your waist.

“jay,” you whispered, softly rubbing circles on the back of his neck, your face being close enough to leave soft kisses in his messy blonde hair.

“mm- oh, fuck,” jj rasped, quickly gaining consciousness as he realized it was finally morning. He was so excited to sleep last night because it meant the next day would come quicker. It was like a kid on Christmas Eve. “it’s time?” He lifted his head from your neck, rolling himself over so he was on top of you, his hands holding himself up above your head on the pillow.

“It’s time,” you giggled, reaching up to cup his cheeks, “I’m done being patient. Need you inside me.” You whispered, and at that, jj leaned down, connecting your lips. He wasn’t completely rough, but he wasn’t gentle, and god did you miss this.

Your lips didn’t part from one another as his hands moved their way down your body. His fingers fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt that clad your body, yet another thing making him absolutely feral.

You disconnected to breathe, and so that he could lift your shirt above your head, discarding it on the cluttered floor. You looked up at him, now only in your panties, finding that familiar comfort that lived in those beautiful blue eyes of his.

“Fuck, missed seeing you like this, baby.” He panted, his breath hot on your skin as he lowered his mouth down to your tits, his tongue circling your sensitive nipple as you gasped, reaching up to entangle your fingers in his hair.

He soon took your whole nipple in his mouth, humming in satisfaction against the warm skin, while also lowering his body to grind his boxer clad dick against your wet center. He was achingly hard, no doubt his boxers were already stained with the precum that was eagerly leaking out of his sensitive tip.

You whimpered softly as he grazed his teeth against your nipple as he sucked sloppily, the feeling of his mouth on you making your center pulsate harder.

“jj, need you, please..” you whined, grinding your hips up against his dick, the fabric beneath the two of you was too much. You needed him.

“Okay, baby, okay,” he breathed, pulling his mouth off of your nipple with a pop, leaving the skin red and wet, “need to taste you first.” He added before scooting down further on the bed, giving himself enough room to pull his shirt over his head and discard it with yours.

He quickly repositioned himself in front of your legs, his ring clad fingers cold on your skin as he pushed your knees apart, sliding his hands up your thighs as he spread your legs. He was met with your underwear which you could feel was soaked, and you were sure it was quite the sight for him to see.

“Jesus, fuck, you’re soaked.” He hummed, palming his hands up and down your thighs until he reached the waistband of your underwear, his fingers not hesitating to pull the fabric down your legs and off of your body completely.

“There she is,” jj smiled at the sight of your pussy before him, running a finger through your wet folds, circling your entrance and sliding it back up to rub torturously slow circles against your clit. He was acting as though your pussy was his best friend who he hadn’t seen in months. Again, he was dramatic.

“Please, jay, fuck, you — you can’t torture me now, ‘s been way too long.” You whined, your eyes shutting for a moment as you clenched around nothing, his touches making your veins feel like fire. You needed something.

“M’kay, baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just missed this. Don’t like not having you for so long.” He finally gave in, lowering his head to finally take you in his mouth, his tongue flicking quickly against your clit as his wet lips closed around it, sucking the sensitive bud in his warm mouth.

You couldn’t hold back the moans that fell from your lips, the feeling of his mouth finally on you mixed with the soft breaths leaving his nose that was pressed against your pelvic bone was everything.

“That’s right, that’s good, yeah? Just what you needed?” He pulled back for only a moment to glance up at you as you nodded quickly in response before his middle finger teased your wet entrance. Without another word, he pushed his finger inside of you, bringing his mouth back on your clit at the same time as he began pumping his finger inside of your tight pussy, not missing the sweet gasp that left your parted lips.

He got a rhythm going as he always did, eventually adding his index finger, stretching your tight walls around his fingers as his mouth moved sloppily against your clit. It was a wet mess already, his chin and fingers completely soaked with your juices, the sound of your moans and his soft praises filled the room as he quickened his pace, bringing you closer to your high.

“I’m close, fuck me, I’m gonna come-“

It took only a few more pumps from jj, the way he curled his fingers perfectly, not missing a beat as your stomach tightened before contracting, your eyes squeezing shut as you moaned loudly, reaching forward again to grip tightly onto your boyfriends hair, pulling rather hard as your orgasm took over your body.

Your pussy clenched around his fingers as he pulled them out, bringing them up to his lips to lick them clean as he grinned lovingly at you.

“That’s good, baby, you’re so good for me,” he cooed, leaning down once again to press a sweet kiss onto your sensitive clit, making your breath hitch as you came down from your high. “You ready for me now? Been dreaming of this since I met you.” jj studied your face for any sign of hesitation, brushing a loose strand of hair that had fallen by your eyes.

“I’m ready, please, need to feel you.” You responded rather quickly, wholeheartedly enjoying the foreplay, but this is what you had been waiting for, you were ready to feel him fully.

“I got you, I got you…” he gave a quick kiss to your lips before sitting up and removing his boxers. His cock sprung free, happily unrestricted now, his tip red and swollen, precum now leaking out down his shaft.

You watched as he gave himself a few quick pumps, lubricating himself with his precum before positioning his cock in front of your pussy, gathering your wetness onto his tip before lining himself up with your entrance.

One hand held his cock as he slowly pushed himself inside of you, the other holding your bare waist. It was immediate euphoria for the both of you. You both had no idea what utter pleasure had been beneath the thin condom you had grown so accustomed to.

jj paused once he bottomed out, his eyes meeting yours as you nodded profusely for him to keep going. He needed a second, your joke about him not lasting was now fresh on his mind, but he was determined to make this last for the both of you, and he would be damned if he didn’t give you at least one more orgasm.

“Fuck me, Y/N, holy shiiitt you feel so perfect. So perfect for me. Pussy was made for me.” He groaned, taking a deep and shaky breath before he felt like he could begin moving again.

And so he did, his thick cock pushing in and out of you as you desperately reached up to grab the back of his neck, your fingernails digging into the soft skin making his little curses and moans grow louder.

Sex had never felt this good before, no barriers at all, just jj, completely jj. Watching his eyebrows furrow in pure and utter pleasure as his lips parted was sending your stomach into a frenzy and realistically you both knew that this first time going raw wouldn’t last too much longer, but that was okay.

“Love you, love you, feels so good, just— fuck, harder, please, I’m close.” You whined, your pussy clenching around jj’s cock as he quickened his pace, his hand that was holding your waist now moving down to rub at your clit, knowing that was going to do it for you.

“C’mon, baby, let go, yeah? Come for me, fuck — love you so much, so so good..” he praised, his cock hitting your sweet spot so perfectly while his fingers worked tirelessly against your clit, and that was all it took for your orgasm to hit you at full force, showing no mercy as your back arched, your fingers digging even deeper into your boyfriend’s skin. You didn’t even know what words left your mouth as you rode out your high, but you couldn’t care less.

jj’s gaze left your eyes as he looked down at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy, juices everywhere, no doubt leaving a mess on the sheets. But the sight of that alone, mixed with the euphoria of being inside of you completely raw, not to mention the way your pussy clenched repeatedly around his cock, that was it for him. He pushed in one last time, his tip hitting deep inside of you as he came, truly inside of you for the first time. Thick spurts of come shot into you as he completely lost his composure, his arms unable to hold him up any longer, collapsing against your bare chest.

“My baby, god, fuck, I love you so much, you’re… ahh, fuck.” jj moaned one last time, needing a moment to catch his breath before he could move again. What felt like forever was only a few seconds, however, and he slowly pulled his softening cock out of you, not missing the way you winced at not only the sensitivity but the loss of fullness.

Taking a breath, jj leaned over the side of the bed to grab his t-shirt, gently wiping up his mess that was now spilling out of you. He made a mental note to put a towel down next time, might save a load of laundry, and a shirt.

“You did so good, baby. I’ve never felt so good in my fucking life.” He kissed your swollen lips once he finished wiping you up, smiling tiredly at your sweet post orgasm face, cheeks pink with a small but satisfied little smile on your lips.

“Yeah, no, that was well worth the wait.”

[thriftedtchotchkes]

switching the positions

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food

word count: 16.2k

moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡

a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

SUNDAY

"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not gonna hate you.”

Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away. 

Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.

“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.

“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.

“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?” 

He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.

“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”

Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it. 

“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?” 

You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.

“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”

He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.” 

So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.

MONDAY

"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."

It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.

You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays. 

Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.

Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—

And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets. 

It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief. 

“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.

His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.

You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.

Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life. 

But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again. 

“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.” 

The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately. 

“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.

“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”

Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.

“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.

"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.

"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"

You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect. 

The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.

You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.

"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."

He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.

Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most. 

You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.

"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."

"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."

So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.

Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—

Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.

"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."

A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth. 

"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.

"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—

The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.

"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."

You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.

Neither of you makes it to work on time.

TUESDAY

"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."

The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.

You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.

“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.

“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.

“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.

“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.

“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless. 

It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too. 

“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her. 

It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself. 

You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.

“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack. 

…Wait. She’s leaving?

“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”

“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”

You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder. 

“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!” 

And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.

You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?

Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.

Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best. 

Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.

The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.

There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship. 

Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.

Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.

You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good. 

You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise. 

“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”

Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit. 

Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.

And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.

“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”

He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen. 

“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.

“Good. It’s dinner time.”

WEDNESDAY

"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."

Spin class sucks.

There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.

It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this. 

It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun. 

But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.

No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it. 

There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.

The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative. 

It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.

Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.

Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him. 

What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats. 

Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you. 

That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.

The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are. 

Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all. 

You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.

"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"

You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far. 

On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.

It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.

“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."

Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core. 

You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.

Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.

"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"

His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it. 

Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.

Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.

"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."

And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars. 

Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful. 

Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—

But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.

"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"

Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.

"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.

You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.

"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.

"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.

"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine." 

Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him. 

You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.

All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—

But he's got one last edge left in him. 

You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.

He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.

"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively. 

Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you. 

But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.

You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.

"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need. 

You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs. 

Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?

But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself. 

Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.

“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."

You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?

"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.

He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.

"Wanna explain what all of that was?"

"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."

"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense. 

You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.

"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"

"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!" 

But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.

"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.

"That's okay. We won't need one."

THURSDAY

"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"

Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.

You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.

How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.

Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.

It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option. 

Two blue lines. Pregnant.

You knew this week was going a little too well. 

Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.

Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought. 

Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this. 

It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.

There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.

Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point. 

You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before? 

Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight. 

Fuck.

Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.

But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar. 

Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?

No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.

If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable. 

Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.

So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken. 

Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.

“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”

She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken. 

“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”

“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”

The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.

Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.

It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.  

"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"

Yeah, you could say that.

You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.

"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you. 

His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you. 

Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering. 

That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.

Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.

But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.

His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.

His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm. 

But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.

“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.

“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”

Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.

The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.

“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells. 

“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”

“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone. 

Together. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”

FRIDAY

"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."

Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.

You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk. 

“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.” 

You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.

Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer. 

Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that. 

You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up. 

Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes. 

Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur. 

Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time. 

You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.

Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.

Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.

“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand. 

But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer. 

“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”

You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck. 

“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips. 

Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans. 

You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere. 

Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.

But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”

You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.

“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want, baby."

Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction. 

Now, you want something else. 

You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either. 

His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all. 

Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.

"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."

Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken. 

Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration. 

He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.

Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie. 

"Should ya be doin' that right now?" 

There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.

"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"

The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.

"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"

You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.

"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."

"Deal," he says without hesitation.

"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening. 

He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.

"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."

Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.

"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart. 

You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.

Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open. 

"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit. 

Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast. 

Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap. 

"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"

You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—

Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically. 

"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.

What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now. 

And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.

Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric. 

He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.

"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."

"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."

He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.

"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."

But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.

"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.

You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something. 

"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his. 

You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation. 

"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now." 

Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.

His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back. 

So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.

"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.

"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."

Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead. 

"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."

Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough. 

Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.

“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you. 

It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.

But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.

"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.

Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.

Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.

And still so mouthy.

“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”

"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?" 

It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.

"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."

Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight. 

His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.

“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”

“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?” 

Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.

“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”

SATURDAY

"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."

You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.

And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.

Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content. 

He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs. 

That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.

But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.

He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.

His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once. 

Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you. 

"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens. 

"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"

You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers. 

Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.

"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.

"Huh?" you ask dumbly. 

"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh. 

"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.

"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"

And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.

God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.

Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.

"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."  

Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath. 

You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement. 

He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you. 

But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.

You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.

“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"

Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.

“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”

Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.

Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves. 

His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip. 

The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him. 

And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat. 

You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.

"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."

How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.

Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite. 

But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment. 

And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking. 

Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.

“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”

It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.

At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.

His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again. 

Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation. 

Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.

Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.

“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach. 

Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.

"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away. 

His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.

It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives. 

“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.” 

You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.

“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”

He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.

You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful. 

When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free. 

Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.

Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.

Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.

He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately. 

After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.

"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."

The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache. 

You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.

Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth. 

"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."

He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.

“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."

You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.

Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.

"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"

Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that. 

His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does. 

Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.

You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would. 

And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.

You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could. 

It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

thanks for reading! 💕

[shroomdreams]

Awoo!

Male Wolf Hybrid x Fem Puppy Hybrid Reader

NSFW

CW: Non-con, reader in heat, p in v, creampie, implied marathon sex, breeding kink, impregnation, reader is depicted with breasts and vagina A/N: Something short for y’all to chew on. Also i know i said i'm not into non-con but I've been reading a lot of josei smut manga and it's bled into this fic sdgjhdslkgjh 1.5k words

Imagine being a puppy hybrid dealing with your heat.

As one of the dog hybrids tasked with guarding the farm, you’re trained to take down threats and keep your friends safe. Your pack consists of you, your little brother, and your grandpa! Grandpa’s been getting on in years, and your little brother is still a bit too rowdy to be a proper guard dog, so most of security duty goes to you.

However, if there was one thing you hated about being a puppy hybrid, it’s the heats you go through.

Curling up on your bed, you growl and tear into your chew toy as your hips desperately hump the pillow, staining the fabrics with your juices. It never gets any easier dealing with heats, especially the aftermath where you bleed all over everything. To make matters worse, the owners of the farm have been thinking of getting a dog hybrid for you to mate with! Absolute nonsense. You don’t need any mates, not at all!

Still, you’re grateful that your owners decided to give you the week off to deal with your heats. Much as you despise the process, it was a chance for you to somewhat relax while your little brother takes over your job for the mean time. However, the toys your owners bought weren’t anywhere near enough to stamp down the fire in your loins, but it was better than nothing. Unbeknownst to you or anyone in the farm, things were about to change.

In the early hours of the morning, a lone man stalks the near the woods, his wolf ears flicking around for any sound of prey. Then, a tantalizing scent wafts to his nose. He’s off, quickly tracking down the delicious scent. His feet carry him to a farm, where everyone was still slumbering. The scent comes from a little hut just a few ways off, fenced off from the rest. Though as the wolf made his way to the hut, he’s stopped by a smaller figure, who fiercely glares at him.

“Heck off, stranger! Yer trespassin’ on private property!”

Unimpressed, he raises a brow as he crosses his arms. “And what are you gonna do about it, runt? You’re way too scrawny to be a threat.”

The dog hybrid shakes his head, clearly agitated by his presence. “Don’t matter, I can take ya!” He growled. As the wolf takes a stance, the two are interrupted when the hut’s window flaps open. The scent practically rolls out as you snarl at the two of them.

“WILL YOU TWO PIPE DOWN?! AH’M TRYIN’ TO GET SOME SLEEP HERE!”

“Eek! Sorry sis!”

The wolf hybrid takes a moment to assess the source of the scent he’s been tracking. You’re definitely way older than the pup who called you sis, and your body has been toned from years of fighting off enemies. He eyes your dribbling pussy, your flushed cheeks, and your agitated body language.

Oh yeah, he’s come to the right place. He doesn’t get another chance to eye you up before he’s face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. Right in front of him is a much older dog hybrid wearing glasses. “Howdy pardner. Ya got ten seconds to step away from ma grandbabies b’fer I put lead in ya.”

He wisely retreats, his hands up as he steps back into the woods. The whole time he does, he’s kept his eyes on your hut, watching you squint at him as you slam your window shut. Now that he’s confirmed your presence, there’s no way he’s just going to leave.

He spends a day or two observing your brother and grandpa’s behavior, taking note of their quirks. His tongue licks his lip as his hand strokes his cock, thinking about your previous appearance. You didn’t bother throwing on a shirt or undergarments, as your heat made wearing clothes extremely unbearable. The wolf grins, as he waits for the sun to go down…

…At night, you’re awoken by the sound of your door creaking open and the smell of a wolf inside your room. Before you could fully open your bleary eyes, the wolf hybrid pins you down, your combined weight sinking into the mattress. “You smell better up close,” The wolf growls, nibbling at your neck. You thrash about, trying to push him off of you. “Quit squirmin’-”

Your freeze when you feel his hardening length slide against your folds, your pussy instantly clenching around nothing while secreting arousal. “G-Get offa me!” You say, hitting his shoulders in a futile attempt to drive him off. However, the wolf manages to grab your hands, holding your wrists down with one of his own hands while the other caresses your body. An involuntary whimper leaves your mouth when he fondles one of your breasts, kneading the flesh in his palm while his cock smears itself in your juices. You’re acutely aware of how large he is, and you haven’t at all taken a toy that matched anywhere near his size.

“Poor thing. Haven’t your humans gotten you a mate yet? Then again, I bet they’d just grab some random stray off the street… But don’t worry, girl. I’ll make sure to satisfy ya.”

His lips crash into yours, tongue forcing its way inside and tangling with yours. Your moans are muffled as he presses his body closer to yours, legs parting wide open. “N-Noooo…” You whimper, trying in vain to shut your legs, watching as the wolf angles his cock towards your entrance. The tip breaches your entrance, causing your legs to fly up from the stimulation as you become breathless. Gasps are wrung out of you as your walls struggle to take the wolf’s length. He growls, hand on your hip as he tries to coax you into loosen up.

You struggle to breath, eyes rolling into your skull as he fully sheathes his cock within your warmth, the nearly kissing your cervix. The wolf huffs, noting the little ring of white decorating the base of his shaft as he draws his hips back, shallowly thrusting inside. “Squeezin’ me real good there, girl. You’ve been hungry for a man’s cock for a while now, haven’t you?”

“N-No- Mmh!” Your protests are cut off when he gives you a sharp thrust in reply. Your hut quickly fills with lewd slapping as you pant out, your poor cunt being constantly rubbed by the wolf’s length. “T-Take it out! I don’t- Aaah! I d-don’t wanna be your mate! Oooh!” You yelp when he suddenly sinks his fangs into your neck, marking you as he roughly slams against you. You’re suddenly flipped on your front, ass up in the air while your face is smooshed down on the pillow.

“This whole den of yours will be perfect for our cubs,” The wolf groans, grinding himself close to your ass while his cock stirs your insides. You shake your head, tears dripping into the bed sheets as the wolf picks up the pace again, making you cry out for mercy. “Fuck- What do you say? I’ll give you a- huff- A litter. We’ll make a whole new pack together.”

“I- I don’t wanna-” You sniffle. The wolf chuckles as his hand swoops down to tease at your clit, the sensation making you cry out in alarm. “I don’t want a litter! I- I don’t-”

“Your pussy says otherwise. Huff- It’s squeezin’ the life outta me. Guess I’ll have to give your body what it needs.”

“N-no! Ohhh! Ahhhhhh! N-Not inside, please! Ah! Ah! I ain’t ready to be a mama! Ah! Ahhhhhhhhh!!”

Gripping your hips tight, the wolf pounds you hard until the feeling in your stomach snaps when you feel his knot squeeze in with a pop!, clamping down on his cock while he pumps his seed inside. You go brainless as your hips push against him, tongue lolling out while he snarls in approval. “There you- pant- go. See how nice you feel?”

Your world spins as he pulls you up, your back against his chest as he gently bounces you up and down on his knot.

The next day…

The poor farmhand who is sent to check on you is thinking about possible jobs he might take after he witnesses the scene happening within your home.

Your legs were wrapped your mate’s waist as he bounces you in tandem with his thrusts, streams of cum leaking from your drooling cunt and onto the floor below. The wolf hybrid growls, forcing his knot in your cunt as you whine from the overstimulation, pulsing around his cock as your arousal gushes around him. The farmhand wisely decides to leave you two alone when the wolf snarls at him, closing the door as he walks off.

“...I ain’t getting paid enough for this shit.”

A few months later, you’ve given birth to a healthy litter of wolfdog hybrids. Your mate licks the bite mark he left on your skin as your children suckle on your breasts. Though your grandpa was less than pleased, he begrudgingly puts up with the wolf hybrid as he watches over his great-grandchildren, while your brother plays with one of your daughters.

Safe to say, you won’t be getting rid of that darn wolf any time soon.

[thefourthwifeoftengenuzui]

some headcanons about dating timeskip!Kenma please!!

thank you Anon, I would absolutely love to share some stuff about this beautiful boy~ As always, feel free to send any other requests you got, I’ll be more than happy to share my thoughts~

status: unedited

word count: 1.4k (damn that’s the most I’ve written in a hot minute)

warnings: cursing, pure fluff, mentions of weed, crackfick a little suggestive? Idk man I’m sleepy

wrote this instead of studying for my physics final exam😋

🩵Aged Up Kenma Headcannons🩵~

Ok first off we gotta get the basic facts down. This boy may be sweet as sugar, but he’s also one lazy mother fucker. And For the most part, I’d say that he really doesn’t change much from when he was a kid. The most I can say about him, is he definitely is a lot more confident being in front of people, ( I mean that’s kinda his job now, but bear with me) and has become less awkward around people. Very different from when he first met Hinata, he can actually hold a good and relaxed conversation now. That’s not to say he isn’t introverted anymore, (he definitely still would rather be at home) but he is more confident in himself to be able to actually be able to engage with someone. Is he gonna go out of his way to talk to someone? Hell no, but he can at least handle being approached without overthinking and triggering his anxiety.

This definitely also translates to his relationship with you. You still will have be the one who makes the first move, or at least initiating conversations.

But one things for sure, once he likes you, he loves you. Like wanting to wife you up regardless of gender. And I feel like, (later on in the relationship ofc) if you ever had kids, he would be the best most present dad ever. Like he wouldn’t be a house husband, (his YouTube gig is completely paying for your mortgage) but because the majority of what he does has him, stream for like an hour, go on call for a few minutes, or just edit his videos for a bit, he would be able to make a lot of time for any and all children he has. But that’s way later on in the relationship.

Once he’s comfortable in the relationship with you, I can definitely see him involving you in his content. Not like a whole boyfriend and girlfriend couples channel, but like a once a year “reacting to fucked up shit with my girl” type beat.

And since we’re on the subject of content, <<<<<<<<

Like imagine having the most shitty day possible and you come home to your boyfriend streaming COD or some shit. You just face-plant into the bed next to him and he snaps his head towards you.

”shit baby you good?” he asks as he raises an eyebrow, looking at you concerned as you mumble angrily. He recognizes the nonverbal gestures and just pats his lap with a quick, “c’mere baby,” and hugs you, letting you muzzle your face into his neck away from the camera, and wrapping a fluffy blanket around you, before he kisses you head and say, “gimme ten more minutes to finish this and we’ll order some takeout k?”. He gives you the most sincere and adorable smile ever sending butterflies not only to you, but all his fans watching, as he smiles and goes back to playing like nothing happened, the chat going wilddddddd. (My gay ass heart go brrrrrr)

I know for a fact that somewhere out there in haikyuu internet, there is a corny ass edit of y’all doing that shit, trust. (I need to keep my slang outta here man 😭)

ok, getting off the sidetrack, kenma is still like rlly introverted. Like his ideal date is just sitting at home watching some cheesy studio ghibi movie (His favorite is the boy and the heron, fight me on that, it’s the hill I’m willing to die on.)

If not some cute Disney movie, I also feel like he’d be into like some mystery or like not quite horoscope stuff. Like I feel like he would really be into Wednesday. If he had to watch an actual horror movie, I feel like I’d be like some of the older ones like scream or Nightmare on elm street type shit.

Speaking of scream, I feel like at least once yall would have to do the ghostface couples costume thing. Like I feel like this would just suit him so well. Idk my brains just going feral on it right now. (This was supposed to have a link attached, but it kept fuckin up and I’m to lazy to deal with it so just look it up, the couples version, it’s hot af)

aside from the specific stuff that I know people hate reading, the next thing you gotta know about this version of kenma is he is a TEASE. Like not even like an NSFW type tease. Just like a “he’s an ass but I love him.” Like when he was younger I feel like he was too nervous and flustered to point that kinda stuff out. But now? Man is a menace and a half. The type of dude to be like, “I have no idea how your ass fits in those shorts. Oh no, you’re not taken them off now~” or like the most basic annoying shit like bro fuck off and let me cuddle you in peace without being annoying. Like, he’d be like, “ damn someone’s neady today~ you tryna fuck me in front of everyone?” Like bro stfu I’m just tryna cuddle. Either that or he’d call you clingy for returning the affection he initiated. Like bro, quit being a lil bitch and let me be happy you butt muffin.

Man is putting full pussy into annoying you. He’s the type of guy to call you the most vile, disgusting, cringe ass nicknames, specifically to piss you off. You need him to take out the trash? “Yes my Pookie Wookie McSmoo Moo bear~” *gags while writing this* You’re yelling at him for some stupid thing, “I sorry my sugar booger~.”

Yeah this part is real OOC, and I was gonna write more but I physically cannot bring myself to do it so anyway, his other 3 favorite things to annoy you by calling you is, Cutesie Poopsie, Shnookums, and side piece #2. (Bro I just gave myself the ick)

Beige flags aside, he does have some green ones . For example, he’s a fabulous listener. Like, you just wanna rant and yell about your day? C’mere babes, he already got fluffy blankets, stuffies, and fluffy socks at the ready. You just wanna cry in piece? Looks like his lap has a vacant spot, he can play games and scratch your head at the same time. #bbgtreatment (regardless of gender. If tumblr has taught me anything it’s that nobody is to thug to be bbg, can I get an amen?🙏 )

The more comfortable he is with you, the more he will make jokes, but in the most monotone voice ever. Like you could be ranting to your bestie on the phone like, “I forgot my umbrella at work… yeah I’m soaked,” and you just hear him from his corner calmly shouting “that’s what she said,” not even turning away from his game, as if it was natural to him. It’s always so easy to talk with him, unless it’s about his problems, but we ain’t gon talk about that rn, I’m feeling too fluffy.

There is one thing that I absolutely have to address for this man though. The average female height in my country is 5’4. And Kenma is only 5’6. Chances are, he’s not gonna be towering over you or nothing. Especially if you a tall specimen like me. (AFAB but gender is a construct yolo on those hoes). So chances are, this mf is for a fact, stealing your clothes. No article of clothing is safe. Hoodie? Sorry boo he got cold streaming. T-shirt? None of his were clean. Miniskirt? Onlyfans- He was pulling a Gojo sorry 😋

Tbh I don’t see him ever really having a wedding, or really ever getting married. Too much social interaction and attention on him. Gross. The most I can see him doing is, one night while y’all smoking pot or something, being like “yo wanna get married?” He wants to be with you forever without the government getting involved, but hey, times are tough, and marriage helps with tax returns. So y’all just kinda go to the courthouse, get it done, then fly off to some place to elope.

in all Kenma is just a great loyal guy, who is the biggest pain in your ass, but the biggest cutie patootie this side of the nuthouse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ hope y’all enjoyed, this was so fun to write, if you liked this and want more content like this make sure to request and check out my other stuff. Love y’all bastards, Thots and Enby Hots🩵

[19ndonboy]

religion’s in your lips - mason mount

words: 2.1k

A/N: back again with a new imagine. i hope y’all will like this one, feedback is appreciated!! thank you

you could feel soft lips on your shoulders as you slowly drifted off sleep. you opened your eyes, adjusting them to the light passing through the curtains as they landed on your boyfriend. and years later, you still found your heart doing a somersault. you thought about how lucky you were to have this view every morning and you wouldn’t change it for anything else in the world.

you turned your head to face him and as you whispered a quiet “hi”, he felt his heart skipping a beat. he was so in love with you, he feared it could destroy him. he kept on his trail of kisses from your shoulders to your jaw to end up on your face as he counted them.

“18” on the mole on your right cheek, “19” on the tip of your nose, “20” on your eyelid as you closed your eyes with a smug smile plastered on your face, “21” on your forehead, “22” on your pink lips.

a kiss which ended up being messy as you couldn’t stop yourself from stupidly giggling as he thought about how he would turn the world upside down if he had to to hear your laugh over and over again.

“happy birthday my love” were his words that erupted a crimson taint on your cheeks. and with words minimizing how full of love your heart held for the man in front of you, you cupped his head and passionately kissed him. and you were hoping he could hear your heart exploding in you just as much as you could hear his.

you pulled away from his lips and he gave you his signature look, the one that got you weak to the knees before kissing your forehead as only him had the secret recipe to that warm and safe feeling that was spreading through your stomach. you laid your head on his bare chest as his hand found its usual spot in your hair, tangling them while you appreciated the peaceful silence surrounding the both of you.

and you don’t know how long you stayed here until all you could hear was your stomach growling, being too hungry to think about anything else but mason’s speciality, avocado toasts. you heard him chuckle behind you before he spoke “what do you think about getting out of bed, i’ll make you breakfast and then we can do what i planned for this special day” with a smirk on his face. he had a way with words and he knew it. you nodded and then made your way downstairs to the kitchen with mason following you.

he wasn’t happy with that though. before you could even realize, he had lifted you up and you were on his shoulders, you let out a high-pitched sound before laughing out loud. his favorite sound in the whole world, he repeats every time he hears it. he sat you down on a chair, asking you not to do anything as it was your day, “just like every other day” he would say when soppiness got to his head.

so you spent the next ten minutes watching him go in circles between a drawer and a frying pan in your kitchen while he was humming to your taylor swift playlist. and he took your hand to dance with you when the famous song 22 started playing in the room, joking about how you had waited an eternity to “relate to those words”.

you, then, both took your plate and went to sit on the sofa in your living room and started to eat in front of a random tv program, paying little to no attention to it as you were talking about your plans for the day. although, your birthday was never something you were looking forward to and therefore there was never much celebration on that day and it had been like that for years. but that was until you met him. he always made sure you knew how much you were loved and appreciated by people around you and he swore to himself, a smile would be the only trait visible on your face on that special date.

having finished your avocado toasts, he stood up, gave you a quick kiss on your head and excused himself two minutes as he ran upstairs. he returned right after with a box in his hand and a grin plastered on his face. you hid your face in your hands, which provoked a laughter from mason. you grumbled as he took your hands in his to make you look at him. “mason, you know i didn’t want anything for my birthday” you said, barely audible. “y/n i know but i wanted to. please, take it” he said while kissing each one of your knuckles.

you opened it and found a smaller black box, you gave him a quick glance before opening it and what came to your sight was a necklace with a gold heart locket. you opened it and what you weren’t expecting was a note with the words “forever and always, m” in it. a first sob left your lips and you couldn’t stop the ones following it. he held you tight and your head found itself in the crook of his neck, thanking him a hundredth time. he kissed your forehead, and waited for your sobs to subside. “hey hey, no crying on your birthday” and your sobs turned into giggles. “this is the best present i could’ve asked for mason, tha-“ he stopped you knowing another thanks was on its way. “your day is not over baby, get ready and wear a bikini” he instructed you to as he winked, making you roll your eyes as you did like he said and ran upstairs to your wardrobe to get ready for the day.

you put on your favorite blue bikini, your pink and orange crochet dress and you were ready to leave for his surprise destination. he was wearing a linen white shirt, one of your favorites, and a black short and all you could think about was how you wanted to unbutton his shirt and take it off. he was so handsome, the prettiest man you ever laid your eyes on, you thought. you hopped in his car, your playlist ready to be played through the car speakers. kendrick lamar’s song was starting and you were good to go, not knowing where he was leading the two of you, excitement filling you.

an hour and a half and you could see a beach in front of you. he knew how much you loved the beach, as it reminded you of what used to be home for you in your country. he was happy with his surprise when he landed his eyes on you and saw you smile. lucky for you two, there weren't much people here that day. being too excited to leave for the day, you didn’t even realize when mason put a basket full of chocolate chip cookies and a bottle of hard lemonade in his car. looking at the cookies like a kid on christmas day, you sat on the beach blanket and ate one.

and you spent the next hours just like that. eating cookies, drinking lemonade, laughing, kissing each other, talking and appreciating the moment. you couldn’t have asked for anything better as the two of you thought back to your first date.

“you know i was so nervous before. i called christian and he couldn’t stop making fun of me.” you laughed as it was the first time that you were hearing about this. “hey don’t laugh! him and nicole literally joked about how much i was sweating last week. they laughed about how smitten i was already back then” he blushed and you couldn’t stop yourself from pecking his lips “and they were right.”

“idiot” you rolled your eyes, although you’d never admit that his words made you feel dizzy. “that was the most chaotic date ever” as you recalled. “god, it had started so well in that café. stupid joke after stupid joke and i was asking myself how lucky did i get to be here with you. and i remember how neither one of us wanted to end it here so we went on a walk.” you could hear him laughing as you continued. “and then it just started pouring and as people with common sense, we ran to a store to get umbrellas”

“and that’s when i knew you were it for me.” you couldn’t hide the frown on your face at his words. “we got out of the store and before you opened the umbrella, you looked at your face through a car window, saw the mascara stains on your face and erupted in laughter.”

“mason, i hit your face with that umbrella a few seconds after. how-“ you both laughed at how concerned you sounded, clearly a tree had knocked into him to come to this conclusion at this time, you thought. “i know some people would have ran away after how this date ended but not me, that was the best one i ever had. from the moment i saw you enter that cafe in that little black dress to the moment i let you in the front door, my vision blurry because of the blow.”

you couldn’t stop your heart from beating so fast. you never knew this was how he felt after your first date. you know you made it here after this but you never thought he had felt like that. he kissed you, the kiss getting more heated by the second and you had to stop the two of you before going too far on the beach. he wrapped his arms around your body and you laid down on the beach blanket, kisses left on each part of your skin he had access to. and you stayed in this position for the next few hours, watching the sunset with no desire to leave this beautiful place for now.

eventually you had to go home and this day was slowly coming to an end. your hand in his, you made your way to his car and went home. his hand rested on your thigh the whole ride, making you feel safe and all giddy inside. he parked his car in the porch, flexing his biceps which earned him a slap on his shoulder as you feigned to be disgusted. he was so stupid and why were you laughing like a 15 years old girl?

you made your way inside and left your shoes in the entrance, taking the basket with you to put everything you took with you away. mason then took you with him and led the both of you to your bathroom. there was no better way to keep going with your day than to hop in the shower with your boyfriend. the two of you undressed yourself before getting under the steamy water. he grabbed your shower gel and started to wash your back, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck to your lower back.

your turn to wash him arrived and while doing so, you left kisses here and there on his collarbones, his shoulders, feeling him shiver under your touch. water soon turned cold and you both got out of the shower. picking pajamas for the night – one of mason’s shirts for you. and when you thought that this day could not get any better than this, you heard the doorbell. confusion written all over your face, you followed mason downstairs and saw him with a bag from your favorite japanese restaurant. food he had ordered during the day without you noticing.

you sat on the sofa, a blanket covering your legs and you ate sushi in front of one of your favorite rom-com movies, how to lose a guy in 10 days. you couldn’t recall the amount of times you had watched this movie, mason being your first victim when it came to watching the same movies over and over again. but as much as you loved it, your eyes drooped, wearied after such a long and emotional day at the beach. mason, on his side, could sense your tiredness as you weren’t commenting on the movie like you would usually do.

tv off and before you knew, mason was bringing you to your shared bedroom, and next you were in your bed. he followed you right after turning the lights off and he had his arms wide open for you to engulf yourself into them. one last meaningful kiss shared and before you drifted off to sleep, you heard him whisper “you’re so special y/n, i don’t think you’ll ever realize what you do to me”.

tag: @10vnderhaze @mountymase @fallinforerling

[liloify]

i really do love Emmas’ suggestion for Rhaenyra and Mysaria to kiss bc I feel like it does add some nuance to the scene that’s only gonna make this season all the more entangled

I don’t like the argument that “oh when Rhaenyra was young she didn’t like goose(pussy)”, like that was ten years ago, that is a whole decade, and these aren’t books so we don’t exactly get a look into her mind in the form of italics, or a shortened retelling of something that made her realize, “ykw, goose isn’t that bad.” or even more likely, RHAENYRA IS STARVED.

1. Imagine a war being fought that’s all about your inheritance, the inheritance that your father literally upheld to his LAST BREATH, and everyone is acting like you have nothing to do with it aside from being a visual for the cause.

2. Your husband/uncle (aka, the closest older male relative you have now) is in harrenhal tripping off weirwood leaves and a thirst for power

3. Your oldest child starts undermining you

and all this whilst still processing the death of your father, your son, your daughter and now your cousin who was technically your Aunt anyway bc she was old as hell.

Rhaenyra is not only feeling powerless but now she feels unneeded, useless, she doesn’t feel like she has control in a war that was only started because nobody listened to her in the first place when she said she is the rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms. And don’t come under my post talking about, “WELL THE BOOKS SAID—“ the books are literally being retold through someone, an unreliable narrator, and I thought we all knew by now that GOT/HOTD doesn’t follow the books to the T.

Should they in some cases? yes, absolutely, but this is TV, it still has to be entertaining to an extent, it still has to be easy for the audience to follow to an extent.

Why would any of you think after 8 seasons of reinventing and in S7 and S8’s cases, just inventing in general, that they would follow the books exactly in the prequel series? Why would yall think that in season 2 they would suddenly start following the books??

If you don’t like the changes, don’t watch it, simple. stop going under posts and being like “it was fan service by the writers!!!” “it’s woke propaganda!!!” nigga this is a show about incest and dragons what the fuck could be woke about THAT??

I love the decision because it really does show just how starved Rhaenyra is for anything at this point, her husband is gone, she’s lacking physical intimacy. Rhaenys is dead, she’s lacking a female confidant. Even Sonoya says that they BOTH needed someone at that point, it wasn’t about manipulation, it was about two women who had been groomed, assaulted, underminded and alone finding comfort in each other.

Mysaria was already a confidant for Rhaenyra, and had she won the war, she probably would’ve been elevated any way. Why would Mysaria, who is so closed off about herself suddenly decide, “you know what, I should tell her this brutal story about my father abusing me because maybe she’ll elevate me right now.” With what kingdom??

I understand y’all don’t like the fact that the show strays from the books, and I understand that the Rhaesaria kiss came out of ‘nowhere’, but y’all keep looking at this face value. Yeah, they never really hinted at Mysaria or Rhaenyra liking women after season 1, but they did make it very very clear that the two are alone, and right now they feel like they only have each other. The kiss doesn’t have to go anywhere but it does make sense for it to have happened, in the heat of an emotional connection, they kiss because theyve both been lacking physical intimacy for so long that it just happens.

It’s not propaganda, Rhaenyra and Mysaria are two lonely women and the kiss made sense from an emotional standpoint, if you have an issue don’t get mad at me bc 1. it’s not my show??? and 2. theyve done gay shit before (laenor, renly, loras, oberyn, yara, ellaria) so be mad at the showrunners for allowing it.

[hugsandchaos]

…Y’all are probably gonna riot.

Ghost Bruno AU.

Now before you get the pitchforks and torches, let me talk about him!

It has the whole “Bruno knows Clockwork” stuff I’ve been ranting about, just to keep in mind.

So Bruno actually left the village and climbed the mountains to leave, but when he started his journey down… I’m sure you know, they look pretty steep to me.

He ends up manifesting in the Long Now and spent all those ten years getting used to afterlife as a ghost. Here’s some headcanons about him, including his design.

•White curly hair

•Eyes are now light blue since light blue is inverted brown, but still glow green when he uses his Gift

•Yeah, he kept his gift

•Ruana is now purple

•Skin has turned blue over the years

•Current job is assisting Clockwork in teaching Danny

•Obsession is undecided. Rats? Family love?? No clue.

•Often studies Eldritch brings in his spare time (they don’t offer much information, but he’ll take what he can get)

•Met Pedro

•Misses his family and still loves them

•If he were to have a ghost name, I think something cheesy like “Hourglass” might be neat. Not sure if “Hourglass” is the exact way to go, but it’s a start.

[astriddestelle]

Lol so here’s another unpopular opinion about a ten year old show no one care about.

First of all the show hasn’t aged well but it’s still fun. But omg Sam Manson is like the worst.

It’s so sad because I remember being obsessed with her she was like my fave but now I can’t stand her.

Her whole thing is just look how different I am. I’m not like the other girls. Which I get is a product of its time but wow.

She always brings up how unique and different she is and omg I get it already. You don’t wear makeup congrats, let other girls live their lives how they want.

Maybe it’s cause I’m not like ten anymore but idk I don’t like her like that anymore 😭 I thought she was so cool but she almost had Mary Sue vibes with how awesome/cool/perfect she is in some episodes and how she’s almost always right.

He should’ve ended up with Valerie they would’ve been a cute couple (once she got over her beef 🤣)

Not to mention she’s a hypocrite and always tells Danny not to use his powers for his own gains, but when it’s for her own gains it’s cool. Spies on him but gets mad when he spies on her.

Then it felt like she only liked Danny cause he had powers and it made him unique like what (obviously not true but it felt like it at times)

She’d also bag on other girls just living their lives. Yes Paulina was a bitch but sometimes she’d just be existing and Sam would have some shit to say.

Oh and being rude af and jealous of Jazz when she joined the team his own sister. Idk bout y’all if my friend treated my siblings the way she did it’d be a problem.

Ugh. The problems of getting older. I’ve found myself tolerating the snarky/rude character less and less as I’ve gotten older.

Like why are you so rude for no reason.

Grayghost will always be superior to Amethyst Ocean in my eyes.

Not trying to debate so if you wanna reblog and talk to yourself go ahead. Idc

This is just a random ass mini rant after rewatching an old cartoon that I’ll prob forget about it in like a day.

Sidenote; I love Jazz now, hated her as a kid. Funny how things change.

[obsessedelusional]

religious trauma but make it gay

masterlist

paring ✦ Bella Ramsey x fem!Reader

summary ✦ Bella was your childhood best friend. The one person you felt like you could tell anything. So you do exactly that, coming out to them when you two were still young. Only for Bella to push you away. What happens when they show up at your work several years later?

word count ✦ 3,500ish

authors note ✦ I’m so in love with Bella Ramsey and there’s barely nothing out there. So I took it upon myself lmao hope y’all enjoy!!! Also I’ve never written for a real person so I hope this ok request for Bella open bc I’m a simp rn

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

several years ago

“I think I’m gay.” You admit to your childhood best friend, Bella. The two of you sat in the school yard, parked under a tree.

“What?” She asks, forcing you to repeat the statement you’ve been trying to find the courage to say for months now.

“I think I like girls.” You further explain.

“That’s a sin. You can’t like girls.” Bella spits, bringing tears to you eyes.

“Bella-“ You say their name, letting the tears fall as they interrupt you.

“It’s a sickness, you can get help. My pastor will know exactly what to do.” She says, entirely seriously. Taking your hands in theirs, you quickly push them way. You can’t believe what your hearing.

“I don’t need help. I needed my friend to be there for me.” You stand up from the floor, overwhelmed by the entire situation.

“I don’t think-“ Bella hesitates.

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore.” Her words tremble like their unsure as they come out.

“I knew you were religious but this takes it to a whole another level.” You croak before leaving Bella sat alone under that tree. Part of you thought they’d come back, apologize to you after some time passed. That never happened, ten years of friendship over because of you opened your mouth about your sexuality. At the time you regretted saying anything at all, wishing you had just kept it bottled up inside.

The worst part was when their mother called a couple weeks after the incident basically outing you, offering your mother her pastors number. To your surprise your mom politely declined, she accepted you fully for who you were. It was a bit awkward at first at home but eventually everything went back to normal. That summer you attended your first Pride Parade and felt so seen that the coming school year you came out publicly. Considering the two of you were in the same grade you still saw them around, although never speaking to them again.

After a few years Bella landed her first huge roll in Game of Thrones, leaving your guys hometown behind. You didn’t have to see her face around anymore. Part of you happy for them but sad you couldn’t be in their life to support them. Only to remember they never supported you when you need them most.

present day

It had been several years since you came out, now living your most authentic life. Since then you had a few relationships, nothing too serious. Normally only lasting a few months before breaking up. You had graduated high school, started college shortly after. You got into the college you’d been dreaming of and the major you always imagined yourself as. Your college was a few hours from your home town so you occasionally saw people from there at your part time job. A couple days a week you were a barista at this cute little coffee shop right on the corner of the busiest street.

“What can I get you?” You ask blindly, going through the motions of a transaction.

“Y/N?” The voice on the other side of the counter asks, causing you to look up from the cash register. Looking up you’re greeted by the girl who you hadn’t seen since that depressing day. The day you lost your best friend.

“I can’t believe you work here.” They say, their voice warm.

“Yup.” You say flatly.

“What can I get you?” You ask, trying to quicken this interaction.

“The film I’m working on is filming just down the street for the next few weeks. I’ve been trying to find you for years, you have like no social media.” They admit, completely disregarding your attempt to not make small talk.

“Can I get you something?” You asks again, uninterested in what they have to say.

“Damn I deserve that.” They sigh before muttering off their order and paying. He walks over to the pick up area and you start making their drink. Every time you look up from your work they’re already staring. You can’t help but look too, they’ve changed so much. You’ve seen things about them online and people from your home town loved to talk about the girl who made it big. Always asking, “Didn’t you used to be friends with Bella?”

Once you’re done with their drink, you walk over to where they stand and set their drink down on the counter.

“Y/N wait.” They plead before you can turn your back to them. Against your better judgment you stop, briefly making eye contact. Saying nothing but signaling with your eyes to speak.

“I’m so sorry. I know what I did was shitty. I haven’t stopped thinking about that day since. While I’m still in town I’d like to apologize better like take you out or something so we can talk.” They explain, almost rambling their words.

“I understand if you don’t want to but here’s my phone number. Consider giving me a call or a text or anything, please.” They smile reassuringly pleading with you one last time, passing you a small folded up paper. They leave the coffee shop, drink in hand. You catch your self watching them leave, mind wandering on what you’re gonna do with their number.

Part of you wants to throw it away. An even bigger part of you wants to find out what would happened if you contacted Bella. Maybe their viewpoints have changed, it’s the least you can hope for. Against your better judgement you slip the small piece of paper in your phone case, deciding you’ll worry about it later. The rest of the work day is slow, painfully slow. Nothing to keep your mind distracted from thinking about Bella.

—

“I should be good, if you’re ready to take off.” Your coworker speaks, disrupting your spiraling thoughts.

“Okay,” is all you can say before rushing to clock out. Grabbing your belongings and thanking your coworker before leaving.

Once home you reach for the folded up piece of paper that’s been living in your phone case all day. You hesitate for a few moments before finally mustering up the courage to open it. All that is reads is their phone number, nothing else. You’re not sure how long your sat there staring at the piece of paper but eventually you decide to just shoot them a text.

you: hey it’s y/n

You don’t hear anything back that night. You stay up later then normal stressing about the entire situation. Imagining that it was all some elaborate set up, Bella’s sat up laughing at how stupid you could be to think that they’d want apologize.

The next morning arrives, your alarm goes off bright and early. You have a long day of classes ahead of you. You rush getting ready, picking out the most basic clothes you own. Not it the mood to try, exhausted from the lack of sleep from Bella’s sudden return to your life.

“Girl you good?” A girl you had always been friendly towards in your nine am class asks. You can never remember her name.

“It’s it that obvious?” You let out an exasperated laugh.

“No offense. Your just usually all dolled up and suddenly you look not dolled up. You just look tired.” She laughs.

“Dolled up?” You ask, curiously. For the first time truly noticing the girl who’s always sat near you.

“Yeah you always got them eye lashes and stuff. Not that you don’t look cute today, you always look cute.” They explain poorly. You can’t help but laugh at their way to describe makeup.

“Too tired this morning. Thanks I think?” You smile, she smiles back before the professor walks in and starts class. For a brief moment you forget about the lack of response from Bella. Too busy thinking about the attractive person who low-key just flirted with you. Only for that to be quickly forgotten when your phone vibrates from your pocket. You slyly pull it out laying it flat on your desk, where the professor can’t see. It is Bella, you catch yourself smiling at her name popping up. Stopping yourself immediately from having that type of reaction.

Bella: hey sorry I didn’t respond sooner super late work day only to wake up even earlier to work some more but I have tomorrow off so can we please get together

You decide you’ll respond but make them wait, not nearly as long as you waited. But you’ll stick it to them, make them wait till your out of class. The rest of the period is spent mentally drafting your response. Are you really after all these years ready to meet up with Bella? Maybe.

When class is over you shove all your belongings your bag, rushing to leave so you can send your text. Only to be stopped by that girl from before.

“What class do you have next?” She asks.

“Uhm,” You have to think about it for a moment too distracted by the phone burning a hole in your pocket.

“English in Butcher Hall at one.” You blurt out once you can remember. Normally you either go back to your dorm, grab lunch or study in the library. Today you had planned on going back to your dorm, knowing you weren’t going to be capable of studying.

“Dope. You wanna get lunch or something? I don’t have class till 1 too.” They explain, a smile on their face.

“Oof,” You say aloud, regrettably. The laugh almost as if they’re confused.

“I totally would but I got stuff I have to do before my next class.” You explain, sort of lying. Unsure why your lying just so you can hurriedly respond to Bella.

“That’s fine. Another time maybe?” She asks.

“Yeah.” You smile before walking off, back to your dorm room. They wave goodbye as you leave. When your out of their reach, you pull your phone out and type your message.

you: tomorrow works, I have one class in the morning. I’ll be done around noon. After that is ok

bella: sounds good wanna grab lunch at one?

you: yeah

Bella responds in a short time, sending you the address of a restaurant you never heard of before. You decide not respond anymore, deciding that any talking that needs to be done can be done tomorrow.

—

You had woken up early enough to actually get ready today. Or “dolled up” as the girl from your class would say. Thankfully you didn’t have that class with her today, knowing you couldn’t handle that along with all that is already going on.

After class, you walk quickly back to you dorm. Using the hour you have to dress cuter, fixing up your makeup. Mentally preparing yourself for the conversation that is about to be had. You pull up the address Bella gave you and it’s a cute little Italian restaurant. That’s always been your favorite, for long as you can remember. You wonder for a moment if they remember or if it’s just a coincidence. The drive is short, too nervous to listen to music. Letting your inner dialogue fill the silence. You park near the front door, looking down at the clock on your dash and you have a few minutes to spear. You phone goes off and it’s Bella.

bella: I’m here just let the hostess know your here to see me

All of a sudden it all starts to feel real. Your going to be having lunch with Bella after several years of no contact after coming out to them. It’s not too late to back out, you think for a moment. You have too though, you’ve made it this far. It’s a quick walk from your car to the door, you let yourself in. Greeted by a girl at the hostess desk.

“Hello!” The hostess beams.

“Hi I’m here to meet with Bella.” You explain.

“Right this way,” She smiles grabbing a menu and leading you towards the back of the restaurant where it’s more secluded. Pass the view of the back of the hostess head you can see Bella sat, scrolling through their phone. The sight of them biting their nails, puts some of your worries at ease. Knowing that they’re just as nervous makes this a little easier. Bella looks up from their phone, smiling brightly at you when they notice you.

“You still like Italian?” They ask.

“Yeah I do.” You smile because they remembered.

“I’m so glad you actually showed up.” Bella says examining you.

“After what I did I always thought you’d want nothing to do with me forever.” They explain, you quickly notice them fiddling with the table cloth.

“I’m so sorry.” They say now with a bit of sadness to their voice. Your not entirely ready to forget what happened but the sight of them is tempting you to forgive them on the spot.

“You know you haven’t grown much?” You tease as an attempt to lighten the situation.

“What?” They ask confused.

“You’ve always been so short and that hasn’t changed. You’ve cut all your hair off, I like it.” You let out an awkward laugh.

“We’ll when everyone is old and looks old I’ll still look young.” They laugh, you can tell they’re finally beginning to relax.

“Plus in my line of work it’s a plus. I can continue to play younger roles as I age.” They explain. Which leads to you asking them what they’re in town filming for. The conversation begins to flow smoothly, smiles never leaving either of your faces. You two order and wait for the food to come over. When the conversation eventually lulls, Bella’s face is screaming like she has something she wants to say but can’t get it out. You eyes dart to their fingers that anxiously fidget with the utensils in from of them.

“It’s okay,” You reassure them resting your hand on theirs. You feel them relax under your touch.

“I’m gay.” They spit out.

“Really?” You ask.

“Which is why I reacted the way I did when you told me. I’ve always had feelings for… women. I was raised to believe that it was wrong. I struggled internalized homophobia for years only recently coming to terms with my sexuality. I was so scared at the time.” Bella admits, your hand still rests on theirs. They look to you like they’re waiting for a response.

“I forgive you.” You respond.

“I would of done this sooner. Your just not the easiest person to find.”

“It’s fine Bella. Just promise we’ll stay in touch now, okay?”

“I promise.”

—

They did exactly that. For the rest of their time in town, when ever your schedules aligned you two we’re together. Or they would find any excuse to leave set and stop by for a quick visit when you were working. Getting to know each other all over again, you couldn’t help it forming a crush on them. They made you so happy, the most comfortable you felt around someone in forever. You finally got your Bella back.

Only for her to have to leave you after a few weeks. Her film was moving locations so they’d be several hours away. It was only for a month but you were so torn up about it. They had promised as soon as that month was over, they’d be back in your home town and visiting you as much as possible.

It was a bit awkward when that girl form your class kept making the moves on you. One day your finally let them down gently. It was entirely because of the slight chance with Bella you thought you might have.

You finally got your Bella back only to have separate again. This time though, you were friends. That month was spent on face time calls when ever you got the chance. Always waking up to good morning texts and not going to sleep until you two had a chance to talk on the phone. You can’t remember the last time you had smiled so much. Always checking you phone, biggest smile on your lips. All because of Bella.

—

one month later

“I missed you.” Bella says, wrapping you in a hug. Their head resting in your shoulder, breathing in your aroma.

“I missed you, more.” You tease. You feel them laugh in your embrace before pulling away.

“I may have got me an air bnb for a week or so.”

“Really? I thought this was just a weekend kind of thing.” You say, biting your lip trying your best not to smile too hard. Originally you couldn’t help but be upset when Bella flight was delayed, their 10 am arrival turned into 5 pm. You had thought half your time with them was wasted.

“We’ll you were wrong.”

“I’m glad.” You laugh, following them to your car. Helping them load their luggage. Bella pulls up her maps app and types in the location of the air bnb. You drive, listening to Bella talk about everything that had happened in the last month of filming.

“You’re so cute when you talk about your job.” You respond, letting the word cute slip out.

“What do you mean?” They ask.

“You’re cute. Do I really need to elaborate?”

“I guess not.” They smile. The rest of the car ride is filled with a comfortable silence.

Eventually you two arrive at their temporary home for the week or so. You help Bella unload and follow them to the door, watching as they unlock the lock box that has the house key inside. They open the door for you, you walk inside.

“Wow this place is so nice.” You awe at the beauty of the living room.

“You think this is nice? Come look at the back yard.” Bella leads you to the back yard, it’s so beautiful. Plants everywhere and jacuzzi, wishing suddenly you had brought a swim suit.

“Wow.” You say aloud, noticing the large hanging chair. Big enough for multiple people. It hangs over the deck, with the perfect view of the nature behind the house. Without hesitation you climb into the hanging chair, Bella watches you amused. You let out a screech when it move from your weight. Eventually you fall on your back, looking up at the stars. Bella continues to watch you, enjoying the view of you enjoying yourself.

“Are you not going to join me?” You speak up.

“I guess so.” You laugh at their attempt to climb up, their attempt causing it to swing and sends Bella landing closer to you than they had originally intended. When you didn’t pull away, they didn’t either. The two of you, sit in silence staring up at the starry sky. Eventually Bella is the one to break the silence.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.” You respond, sitting up on your elbows so you can see them better. They begin speaking, not daring to look at you.

“I said I knew Ialways had feelings for women. Like I always knew I liked women. The truth is I had feelings for you. When you said you were gay, I freaked out because my feelings for you could of become a reality. I think that’s the real reason I pushed you away. I knew I couldn’t be in your life as just a friend but also that I wasn’t ready to be out. I don’t if that makes sense and know I’m rambling. I’m sorry.” Bella finally gains the courage to look at you after their words.

“It’s okay.” You smile, biting you lip. Thinking this is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

“So you’re not mad at me?” Bella asks.

“Not at all. The real question though, are those feelings still there?” You ask, curiously. Your tone a little flirty.

“They’ve always been there. Bumping into you only reignited them. Then you actually said yes to meeting up with me, I couldn’t believe it. I still don’t believe it.”

“Believe it.” You laugh before closing the space between you two. Letting your lips kiss Bella’s for the first time. It takes them a moment to fully register what’s happening, shortly kissing you back. Their hands reach for your head pulling you in closer. You’re the one to pull away, needing to catch your breath. That only lasts a few moments before they’re the one initiate the second kiss. The two of you spend a few hours on the hanging chair. Kissing, laughing and talking about anything and everything. Only going inside because it began to rain. That night you guys stayed up so late, some time around 3am Bella asked you to be their girlfriend. You said yes.

[ziorite]

buckle up lads— i’ve played cello since before kindergarten and even if i’m no virtuoso, i’m about to unleash my thoughts on the scheherazade job upon the world anyways.

look, if hardison was good enough to play the scheherzade solo at fourteen there’s just no way he sounds that shit even if he hasn’t touched the instrument for ten years. he’s supposed to have been the most promising violinist in the city which has to be stiff competition because most classically trained string players start playing young. like three to five years old young. and we know hardison was a foster kid so he almost certainly started later than most. obviously he was talented, but now he can’t even play a scale? it just doesn’t make sense to me from what i know. i’ve gone a month without touching my cello and pretty much hopped straight back into the stuff i was practicing before after fifteen minutes of warm up. the knowledge of how to hold a bow and pull it across the string and make quality sound is the kind that doesn’t leave you— for anyone of teenage hardison’s supposed skill, that instinct is part of you for LIFE. so no, the persistent portrayal of present day hardison as completely incompetent just doesn’t sit right with me.

but that doesn’t mean i think he could pull off scheherazade’s solo without nate’s rather convenient hypnosis. so i googled around and here’s the sheet music:

to be honest i thought it would be absolute batshit crazy the way they treated it in the show. the shifts are kind of crazy but i can see a very dedicated fourteen year old who practiced the shit out of this solo being able to play it. not to say it’s not still hard! there are some SERIOUS high notes that you’d be hard pressed to hit perfectly every time even with weeks of practice under your belt. shit makes me sweat and i don’t even play that instrument.

it’s a damn impressive solo for a teenager to be playing and an absolutely deranged one to try and perform on such little notice. that’s why i need someone to rewrite the scheherazade job with more focus on hardison and his violin dammit! i feel like hardison would be able to bluff his way through the other parts of the piece with enough practice in the time he has before the job, but there’s just no way he’d be able to play that solo on his own after ten years of not touching the violin. he might not even be able to practice during all the time he has— his calluses would be gone!! that’s a whole other story!!

string instruments strings are vicious y’all. and a VAST majority of the scheherazade solo is on the teeny tiny e string that basically slices through raw fingertips. i can barely make it through five minutes of dedicated practice shifting around on my thinnest string and i’ve had my calluses built up for years; i can file these babies with a nail file and poke a hot pan with them— they get pretty damn thick, and hardison’s working with nuthin y’all. you can only go so far before you give yourself an actual blister you physically cannot play on.

as a result, i feel like hardison would’ve let nate hypnotize him if ONLY the oily little slime ball (with hate and love) had told him. i really don’t understand why nate didn’t say anything until the first place. aren’t they supposed to have learned that you’re not supposed to con your own crew already?? (not that i think nate would ever really take that to heart.)

anyways, that’s my hardison-should-be-better-at-violin propaganda as well as my why-the-scheherazade-job-needs-to-be-rewritten manifesto. maybe i’ll write it myself one of these days— leverage brainrot is real and it is a sickness. hope this 2 am rant didn’t disrupt anyone’s dashes too much!

[julesthequirky]

Theirs: Chapter One

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You've just moved back to Helena after getting fired from your previous job. Desperate for cash you become a dancer at a strip club. Strong-willed and independent, you've never needed a man, that is until you meet the handsome Sheriff of Helena. Gentle and considerate, he melts your heart in a way no Alpha could. Then there's Dean (not Winchester). Rough-around-the-edges, with tattoos covering him from head to toe, and a heated stare that makes your heart race. But an Omega can only have one Alpha, right? That's what you've been taught. Only neither one will concede to the other, and you find yourself unable to choose.

Characters: You, OC Lou, mystery man.

Chapter warnings: Adult language, transgender OC (though, I don't truthfully see her as transgender anymore as she's fully transitioned).

W/C: 1, 609

A/N: I haven't abandoned The Choice, so don't worry! :) I'm going to try and post alternating chapters.

You sat on the lumpy couch, surrounded by boxes scribbled with ‘kitchen’ or ‘bedroom’ on. You didn’t have the energy just yet to start unpacking. With your head in your hands, you assessed how you came to be here, in your aunt’s trailer, back in Helena, with no job and your bank account quickly dwindling.

It was simple. You’d fucked up. Punched your boss in the nose, and oh, God, it had sprayed like a fountain, but in your defence, he’d said one too many derogatory things about Omegas behind your back, and you’d had enough.

With your finances in dire straits, you could no longer afford the blockers that kept your heat away. If you didn’t figure things out pretty quickly, you’d be going through Hell soon.

You surveyed the boxes scattered around the living area. This was your life. If you’d held your anger…Hell, even counted to ten, or even a hundred…then maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t be in this situation… However, feeling sorry for yourself was gonna get you nowhere. You knew that. But you couldn’t help it.

Your phone buzzed beside you. You sighed and picked it up. It was an old-school friend you hadn’t spoken to in years. You tapped on the DM, instantly opening up the app.

Lou: Heard y’all were back in town. We should meet up, grab a drink, and catch up! XXX

The image in the profile portrayed a woman with long brown hair and bright blue eyes that you definitely recognised. She sure looked familiar. And as you wracked your brains, it came to you. She used to be a he.

No way. You smiled, remembering how Lou was in school. You’d catch them staring off into space, watching girls go about their activities as you both sat on the bleachers. You thought that maybe Lou fancied them. Guess not. Just going through some things and trying to understand who they were, just like you and everyone else. And maybe she did fancy girls as well. You weren’t gonna judge.

By the looks of it, Lou still went by Lou, as her profile name indicated. You fired back a message telling her you’d be delighted to. It would be good to catch up with an old friend. You wondered where she was in life. Hopefully in a better place than you were.

That’s exactly what you did. You dug into your suitcase, found a shimmery little number and donned your favourite cowboy boots for comfort.

*

You returned to your old stomping ground, The Silver Dollar. It was old as dirt, with old wood built into a classic saloon style. And it was packed. Bodies heaved as you pushed your way through, looking for Lou, memorising the image from her social media account.

A mix of scents accosted your nose. Beta colognes and perfumes that made your nose itch, earthy Alpha scents and the occasional sweeter scent of an Omega.

Heads turned as you made your way through to the bar, whereupon Lou sat on a stool, drinking a beer.

She looked amazing. Barely recognisable from her old self, but you guessed that was the whole point. She had a great figure, jeans that hugged her in all the right places and a low-cut top to show off her ample cleavage. Fuck. You were jealous and found you were quickly developing a girl crush.

Lou slid off her seat and enveloped you in a hug. You wrapped your arms around her, giving her a meaningful hug. It felt good to be here. Maybe getting fired wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

When she pulled back, she whistled.

“Look at you. You look so grown up.”

You laughed. Grown-up was right.

“What about you. You’re the one that’s changed much more than me.”

Lou grinned from ear to ear. And your heart almost burst with happiness for her. She nodded, grabbed her beer and took a sip.

“High school was a struggle. I didn’t show it cause it was a me thing. I thought I just fancied girls, but I somehow knew it was more than that. I didn’t wanna just be with a girl. I wanted to be one.”

Lou had been one of your best friends in school, and you regretted not keeping in touch with her. Life moved quickly in those years, and before you knew it, ten years had passed.

“Well, I’m really sorry I didn’t keep in touch. I should’ve.”

Lou waved a hand dismissively.

“Naw, I was Hell to be around when I was transitioning. Who knew oestrogen was a bitch. Felt like I was experiencing puberty all over again.”

You laughed and nodded. Being a woman certainly came with its hormonal challenges.

“Anyway, look at you. Gunna catch everyone’s eye in that.”

You looked down at the silver sequined dress. You were a damn glitterball. You blushed, suddenly bashful of the attention.

She grabbed the bartender’s attention and waved him over.

“What’s your poison?”

“Jim Bean and coke.”

She slammed her hand on the bartop.

“And that’s what you’ll have. Barkeep! Make my stunning friend her drink of choice!”

You laughed, cheeks hurting from laughing so much. It felt good to let loose. And Lou certainly was mesmerising.

Lou insisted on paying for your first drink. No matter how much you protested, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The first whiskey and coke went down way too easily. As did the second. And the third.

You drank to forget your problems. And to have a good time.

Lou rested her hand on your shoulder.

“I know a troubled soul when I see one. What’s up?”

You shrugged.

“Jus’ ev’rythin’.”

You turned, giving her your attention.

“It’s dumb. But the reason why I came back is cause I got fired. I haven’t found a job yet, and I’m kinda panicking.”

A look of concern crossed her face, and the hand on your shoulder squeezed gently.

“It’s a shitty situation. But you’re back home. You got your family, and you got me. What about your Alpha?”

You snorted.

“Ain’t got one of them.”

“Well…take your pick. We got an abundance of ‘em in Helena. An’ for no damn reason…” She trailed off and raised her beer bottle to her lips again.

“If I don’t find a job real soon, a bunch of them might be hammering down my door when I go into heat.”

“If it’s a job you want, I got an idea. You might not like it. Just how desperate are you?”

“I’d do anything. Hell, I’m at the point where I might just go and stand on the damn street corner. That’s how desperate I am.”

She hmmed. She twisted her body to reach for something in her bag. It was a pen and a jotter. She scribbled something down and passed the sticky note to you. It was a number.

“Just remember, I told you you might not like it, but seeing as you’re desperate. It’s easy money. Great money, in fact. I worked there for a little while, too, so I can put in a good word.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Thanks. You didn’t have to, y’know.”

“Just…wear that dress, and you’ll be right in.”

“Lou…” You said in a warning tone.

You didn’t understand why you’d have to wear a silver dress to a job interview. And you knew she was withholding information.

She sighed.

“Fine. It’s a strip club,” she started, raising her hands up, seeing you about to protest. “It’s really good money, just call the number. You won’t regret it.”

You had reservations. For one, it was a strip club. And you were an Omega. That limited what you could do. You weren’t sure you were that desperate. Yet. Regardless, you tucked the Post-It in your cowboy boot for safekeeping.

“Atta girl. Now, let’s just get shit-faced.”

That you had no problem in agreeing to.

Plenty of drinks later, you and Lou giggled like schoolgirls into your drinks, heads leant close together.

“C’mon, tell me, when you were all healed, how often did you touch yourself?”

Lou giggled and leant even closer, her voice dropping, just for you to hear.

“Girl, I got so wet over the stupidest things. Had my fingers inside myself more than out. Thank you, Dr Warren, for blessing me with such a great pussy.”

You giggled into your drink. You could attest to getting horny over dumb things. Thankfully, you’d calmed down, but those late teen years had been something else.

“I remember shaving my vajayjay for the first time, and I found myself hella horny. Like, nobody tells you that! I think I humped the armrest of my couch just to get some kind of relief.”

She snorted. Then you heard the rumbling of a deep chuckle.

“Sure would have found some relief under my tongue, that’s for sure.”

He said it quietly. More to himself than to anyone.

You turned to the owner of the deep masculine voice, a retort ready on your tongue, but it died the moment you saw the burly giant of a man.

His eyes pierced yours. You couldn’t tell if they were brown or hazel. Tendrils of hair framed his face, and the rest was pulled up in a bun. Tats covered his arms, neck, and every bit of skin on his body, as evident from the massive hole in his muscle tee. He held a tumbler with amber liquid inside, swilling the contents, and your eyes honed in on his fingers, where intricate patterns covered each digit.

He was a modern-day Viking.

Then you felt it. The slight quiver in your pussy.

Tags: @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch

[bengiyo]

Sing My Crush: Men Need to Be Angry Sometimes

Now that episodes 5 and 6 of Sing My Crush have aired, I finally feel like I have the confidence and timing to write this post. I’m not sure how many men are in Tumblr BL fandom watching and writing along with us, but it often feels like there’s less than ten of us. As such, there are times when these guys express intense emotions that the (femme) fandom at large seems to struggle with that make perfect sense for me, particularly when it comes to anger.

The most notable recent example of my breaking with fandom reactions happened with Episode 10 of La Pluie with Phat’s explosion in the rain confrontation and aftermath. I thought that Phat’s betrayal and hurt came through loudly, and I totally understood him finally losing his cool after being dicked around by Saengtai for multiple years. Others struggled with this and turned on Phat. Today, I want to talk about Han Baram and Im Hantae and Hantae’s choice to take Baram to a boxing gym to vent out his frustrations.

Quite a bit happens in this episode in terms of the broad spectrum of male feeling. With Sangin, you get his need for control and power. He is cruel in every interaction and physically throws Baram into a wall to yell in his face.

He derides Hantae and diminishes the support he’s given Baram for years.

With Jeong Pal, we get him crying and despondent over Baram’s decision to leave them. He is allowed to be upset, and all Hantae asks is that they try to trust Baram.

Baram is so sad for me because he’s always holding so much of his feelings inside. I love Baram’s confession to Hantae in this episode because it feels not too dissimilar to the first love song he wrote: Letter of Apology. He feels like his feelings are a burden to others and that he is inconveniencing them. He doesn’t even wait around to let Hantae process what’s going on, like many of his K-BL brethren recently (Looking at you Our Dating Sim and Individual Circumstances!).

Finally, we get to In Hamtae. After all the awful things that have gone down this episode, he is so gentle with Han Baram before taking him to the boxing gym.

He leads him by the hand to a seat and gently wraps his hands for him even as you can see he’s still pissed with Han Baram the whole time. He even takes a moment to laugh and call Baram cute while putting on the headgear.

Once they finally get to the boxing ring, he gives Baram a literal shove to get his emotions out so he can finally vent his frustrations. He tells Baram to envision his right hand and Jin Sangin and his left hand as Im Hantae. He sees the uncertainty in Baram’s eyes, and reassures him that he envisions punching Baram’s face all the time and to not overthink it. He cheers Baram on as he finally starts to punch with force. We even get to hear Baram’s exertions as he’s finally letting out his feelings.

Y’all, when I tell you I started to cry so hard as Baram finally got to audibly express some of his frustrations. He needed to be mad. He deserved to be mad. What Sangin did to him was cruel. He ruined Baram’s first confession. He made him feel weird and undesirable. He later stole his goddamned song from him. He threatened him if Baram tried to fight back in any way. Baram needed to express that anger. It isn’t always going to be pretty, and I love that Im Hantae gave him a space to do that.

Still, we’re not done. Im Hantae makes them switch places, and he’s practiced at this. He says all of the feelings that are on his mind:

If you go to Highcode Entertainment, what about our band?

What about our dream?

What about me?

You’re so bad. How could you have confessed in that way?

That’s why you got dumped.

Then he throws the gloves at Han Baram, who asks such a heartbreaking question: “Why is it so tiring to like someone? What did I do wrong?” Im Hantae hugs him, and Han Baram is finally starting to push back on how others make him feel when he chides Hantae for how hard he hit him. Hantae assures him that he did nothing wrong and the two of them end up resting on the floor of the gym together in a shot that definitely came from the source material.

I just absolutely love that the final scenes of this episode are about how righteous it is for Baram and Hantae to be angry and upset about the things that have happened, including the things they might have done to each other. Men feel the full gamut of emotions, and anger is one of those. Sometimes that anger comes out explosively, and often it’s ugly. It is so important to me that we earnestly engage with men’s anger in a genre about close, personal relationships. We often get angry on behalf of characters that are being done wrong, and I think it’s so important that we interrogate the kinds of anger we allow characters to express in our shows.

With these two, there’s something so special about the tenderness Hantae showed Baram before, during, and after the boxing sequence to make sure Baram finally let out his own frustrations and hurt.

[lokislytherin]

devil by the window

pairing: current canon idol!dg x gender neutral journalist!reader

summary: you’re just going to interview dg - your bias, your celebrity crush - on behalf of dispatch. what could go wrong?

chapters: one / two

a/n: dg being sus, as y’all are interested 👀👀 this fic does not have any sussy content as in dg will not be taking his pants off. tits may or may not be bared but his pants and yours will be staying firmly on! title from ‘devil by the window’ by tomorrow x together (txt)! enjoy~

warning: canon compliant violence. also reader is kind of horny but that’s the majority of tumblr dg stans so y’all should be thanking me really

there's no way around it: dg is your ultimate bias.

you've been enchanted by him since the moment he debuted - visuals, vocals, dancing, rapping, he's the epitome of talent. he's young and charismatic too, charming half the women in seoul the second he steps foot on stage for the first time. according to the news, he's only a month older than you. he'll change the idol industry, you told your boss back at the time, eyes bright. he'll change the world.

your boss looked back at you, a lowly intern fresh out of high school with nothing to your name, not even a bachelor's degree, only raw enthusiasm for hunting down the truth. okay.

it's very obvious he didn't believe you. you were a nobody, after all.

now, you're twenty-one and studying media and communications at seoul national university, the most prestigious university in south korea. you've got more experience and reference letters to boot. you're interning for dispatch, the most (in)famous entertainment news company in korea. they say they're willing to take you in as an official journalist the second you graduate. 

even if dispatch is pretty shitty to idols, your old boss can suck it. you’re working for dispatch now.

it's been four years since dg debuted, and you're still his biggest fan. if dg has a million fans, you're one of them. if dg has ten fans, you're one of them. if dg has one fan, it's you. if dg has no fans, you're probably dead.

which is why you're currently panicking, bouncing off the walls with hysteria at four in the morning. all your colleagues know you as the local dg hard stan, so as the one with the most knowledge about dg you've been scheduled to shadow a sunbae from the journalism department to interview the one and only dg for a cover article in twelve hours.

dg doesn't know who you are, but you've been to every single one of his concerts and fan meets, bought every single one of his albums and made a shrine to him out of photocards. you know him - or at least the version he shows the public - as well as you know your own skin. 

you've got yourself a nice outfit: a white blouse with flowy sleeves, a black corset to accentuate your figure, black pants that are just long enough to show off your nice legs. it's better than you've dressed for any date, which would probably explain why you've never had a romantic relationship before. you've always put dg and your studies before everything else, after all.

you’re not sure how long you sleep for, but you shoot out of bed immediately after your alarm starts screaming, and the rest of the morning passes in a similar haze. you don’t even remember getting to the interview spot, but when you do, you’re a whole fifteen minutes early. at least your make-up is looking fabulous.

“excuse me,” says a familiar voice, “are you from dispatch?”

your heart skips a beat. you turn around, and- 

“oh,” you breathe, feeling a little weak in the knees.

dg is tall.

he’s taller than he looks on television, and even though he has only the slightest of makeup on his face, the ceo of ptj entertainment is as beautiful as any renaissance painting. he looks almost unreal.

he smiles down at you, warm and friendly. he feels like someone you can trust. “i’ll take that as a yes, then.”

all you can do is nod, because you don’t trust yourself enough to speak.

“would you like to head in first?” dg gestures towards one of the rooms - there are two security guards outside, both of them shooting you dirty looks. you catch dg shooting them an even dirtier look, and they look away, like wounded dogs with their tails between their legs. “you’re the newbie, aren’t you? we can have a little chat before your colleague arrives.”

that sounds a little like a threat, now. but at the same time, dg could make you do anything he wanted and you’d probably thank him for it. “i- i-”

“be not afraid,” he says, still smiling at you, almost inhumanly beautiful. it’s almost like he knows how you joke about him being angel incarnate. well, you’re not scared of him, you’re scared of you. “i don’t bite.” he leans down, and you go cross-eyed at the proximity. “unless you want me to.”

“i- i-”

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding.” he guides you into the room, relaxing onto the couch opposite yours. you’re a rabbit who strolled into the den of a lion, timidly perched on the edge of the loveseat. dg has no shame in reclining across the back of the couch, legs splayed out so he takes up most of the sofa even though he’s only one man. you try your best not to look at the space between his toned thighs, because even if you want to know whether dg really does have the biggest cock out of all the idols, now is not the time to find out.

only then do you realize you haven’t introduced yourself. you jump up and bow, ninety-degrees. “my name is y/n! it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir, i’m a really big fan!”

that doesn’t even begin to cover how big of a fan you are, but he doesn’t have to know that.

he gestures towards your bag, and you finally notice the limited edition that’s been hanging there the whole time. you had to fight people for that. “i could tell.”

ahhhh, that’s so embarrassing! and unprofessional! 

“it’s cute. you can call me dagyeom, by the way. that’s my name, after all. no need for dg-ssi. we’re around the same age anyway. as for sir...” he smirks. “you can save that for elsewhere.”

“elsewhere? like... where?”

he spreads his legs wider, like he’s making space for something. he raises an eyebrow almost invitingly. “where do you think?”

is he... flirting? with you? oh god, he’s flirting with you.

nothing in all of your years as a journalist or a dg fan has ever prepared you for this. you’ve never heard anything about him flirting. he’s insanely good at hiding from the press and the cameras. you’ve never been assigned to professionally stalk him before (you’re much better with a frontal approach), but some of your colleagues have, and all of them were caught in the act. he barely even does aegyo for the fanservice. 

you give yourself a mental smack in the head. this is the interview of a lifetime! you are face to face with the person you’ve admired for years! you cannot let yourself be horny on main!

he laughs, amusement dancing on his lips as he watches countless emotions flicker across your face in the span of a few seconds. “cute.”

ehhhhhh?

just as that moment, your sunbae barges in. he’s huffing and puffing, clearly having run here, but he’s on time. nobody had told you which sunbae you would be shadowing, but you had been desperately hoping it wasn’t him. you’ve shown nothing but respect for him, as you should, but let’s not even talk about inches, not once has he ever shown you even a centimeter of respect. so he’s late, huh? it feels mean, but you hope he made a bad impression in front of dg. “dagyeom-ssi-”

dagyeom smiles, frigid and unamused, a stark contrast from the way he’d smiled at you. even his spread legs feels less like a calling and more like a threat, although it’s dominant and overbearing either way. “call me dg.”

your sunbae swallows and nods. “dg-ssi, we can begin the interview now.”

wow. dagyeom is really, really biased.

it looks like there’s still a lot you don’t know about him, but your heart flutters in your chest at the feeling of being able to know more.

you’re pretty experienced with interviews - you know the journalist should lead the conversation, and always ask for elaborations from the interviewee. but this time, dagyeom is the one in the lead, constantly offering you chances to speak and ask questions while blatantly ignoring your sunbae.

both of you journalists are helpless under the full force of his charisma as he drives the conversation, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your shoulder. if this interview was a car, your sunbae would’ve been stuffed in the trunk, or tied up with a rope and dragged along behind the car. but when you ask about his past and why he became an idol, he becomes tight-lipped.

there’s probably a reason why he never talks about his past, after all. you were just trying to see if you could get a scoop out of things, or be the first to find out.

“i just thought it was neat,” he says with a shrug. “singing and dancing and making money off that.”

you ask him about his thoughts on aegyo next, and giggle when he makes a face. dagyeom has always hated acting cute for the cameras, but you think he’s cuter when he’s pouting like that and complaining about fan-service.

(you are a much bigger fan for the more… physical kind of fan-service, so to speak. but you would die of shame before admitting to his face that you got all hot and bothered when he ripped his shirt off for a show in the middle of a rap. and that time when he modelled for calvin klein, with the waistband of his boxers peeking out under his tight jeans. and the rich boy concept photos with him in the pool, smirking lavisciously. those toned pecs… the lick-able abs… hhhhnnnnnggggg~

enough, enough! you’ll die of shame right now if you don’t stop thinking about that. luckily, you’re good at multitasking, and you’re fully capable of taking notes dutifully while imagining dagyeom bending you over the table.)

the interview comes to an end all too soon, with all your questions answered except the ones about his past, or his worst fears. he’s been rather vague about some of them, but as an idol and ceo of an entertainment company, dagyeom likes to keep whatever privacy he can, and as a respectful journalist you won’t pry too deeply. even if you did, you’d find out in your own time and never tell him.

just before your sunbae drags you off, dagyeom holds you back, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him. you gasp as he catches you gracefully when you stumble, steady hands on your waist. his hands are big enough to wrap around you entirely, and the realisation makes your cheeks heat. “i’ll keep in touch. i’ve seen your other works. you’re too good for the likes of dispatch.”

“my other…?!”

you can feel his minty breath fanning across your cheeks when he speaks. “see you soon, jagiya. don’t let me down.”

you’re not sure how you don’t faint on the spot, or collapse completely when an email from ptj entertainment pops up in your inbox half a day later, formally requesting you to join the company as part of the media and communications department.

you email them your cv, resume, all your reference letters. i’m still doing my bachelor’s degree in journalism at snu.

this time, kang dagyeom emails you back personally. that’s perfectly fine with me. you can start as soon as next week.

you terminate your internship contract at dispatch at the end of the week. good riddance to the sunbae who had disrespected you. you’ve got the job of your dreams.

[touchoflaughter]

how old were you and your cousins when you started having the infamous tickling battles? 🥺

Hello everyone! Long time no see!

Since I received numerous messages (there are even more) about one of my Cousins, I decided to come back with a little Q&A!

First of all, I think it’s time do give him a name so y’all don’t have to refer to him as ‘MMA cousin’ 😂 for better understanding we’ll call him Aiden, alright?

So i generated two pictures for y’all by describing us in much detail and I gotta say he actually looks almost exactly like that! While I look a little more linke the girl in the left, he resembles the guy in the right a little more. Aiden and I are almost the same age (actually 10 days difference), so we grew up like twins and many said we even looked like twins until the age of 13. When we were little, I didn’t like him that much because he always teased me (and also used his brothers for backup). That was his only form of communication until we were about 10 years old.

One day, all of a sudden, he came up to me from behind and tickled my sides in front of our whole family! I was so embarrassed that I ran away 🫠 and he came after me…

Oh well that day was the beginning of our Lee & Ler dynamics. He continued tickling me the whole day, chasing me around the house and I didn’t know what to do! I was in that age I started realizing my fixation on tickling is probably out of the norm and I was highly afraid anyone would notice. And then he came around and just made no freaking secret of his own liking for it! I was in shock 😂

When he continued tickling me every time we saw each other, I started realizing it’s his new way of teasing and it was almost adorable how much he loved making people laugh. Tbf when we were little, he was always the victim of tickle attacks since he was the youngest out of his siblings. He got humbled right before my eyes about a hundred times and I never came to help him (because I was afraid myself, ok?). When we were ten, he finally started striking back and seemed to develop a taste for the powerful position.

As you can see in the pictures, he’s a big, tough guy and he started getting big in the tender age of 13. We both got into Martial Arts and Powerlifting at the same time what welded us together but he made muuuch more progress (at least in the Gym) in a short time. He became bigger and bigger and I tried to keep up through technique. But since He learned almost the same stuff it was impossible to be a match for him. We loved to play fight and show each other tricks we’ve learned but when we turned 14 I knew I’d only win with a good portion of luck and on our 15th birthday I knew, I wouldn’t win at all. Never again. He’s one of the very few people I can’t overpower fighting so I stand no freaking chance when it comes to tickling.

We’re now both 22 (to the Anon who asked that question) and I definitely had the most influential and intense tickle experiences with him. Since we fought all the time (for fun though) it often lead to tickling. When we grew older, he insisted in a fair win but as soon as he had me in a chokehold, leg lock, armbar or whatever, he started tickling ruthlessly. I had no chance, no way to escape. Sometimes our showdowns got a little too wild and our moms were really mad about the injuries we suffered. But we had our fun, believe it or not 😂

Oh well, I realized I still didn’t answer most of the questions… alright let’s get into that:

1. Here’s the irl-story the Anon is referring to. I don’t exactly know how long it went on. I get the feeling it always seems to be longer than it actually is, cause it’s torture ya know? Probably two minutes or so. And he definitely does both. When he has me in a good headlock or another position I can’t move, he love’s to go for the light scribbles, pokes and little squeezes. He loves to tease and enjoy my helplessness. In all other scenarios he has to tickle more rough cause I’m fighting back with all I got. But I couldn’t say who ich one is worse. Both are!

2. I’d say every time Aiden had me captured with no one around was pretty intense. Sometimes I was actually pretty afraid of him, cause he often goes overboard when we are alone. Somehow he pulls himself together when we have an audience. But I remember one time, we were about 16 years old, we had a sit-in with our cousins and some friends, when he and one of our cousins sat on each of my arms and tickle my upper body without any mercy in front of all these people! That one was even worse than the merciless attacks in private. What made it even more unbearable, was that the other cousins gf was watching us as well. Ugh I was so ashamed! Her face said it all: She hated seeing her boyfriend having the time of his life by tickling the shit out of his female cousin.

3. Yeah I have a pretty entertaining story in mind but I guess that go beyond the scope completely. I’ll write another irl-story about it soon!

Hope you liked the little story time! See you soon! 🌞

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

How the Archon’s Love (As Told by Tarot) pt 1

tags: gn!reader, tarot, headcanons (bonus: platonic!nahida because she is my precious daughter)

a/n: it has been a long minute since i made one of these tarot style headcanons for genshin so i might as well do it for everyone’s favorite archons. as more archons get released, i’ll make more of these even if it’ll be slow going considering we get one nation released each year. this year it’s the focalors wanters time to be fed, any of y’all planning to pull for the hydro archon or are there other fontaine characters that you want? i’ll probably skip for venti and get her on a rerun tbh...

deck: true black tarot

venti

five of swords, death, five of pentacles, nine of pentacles

venti’s love is selfish. cheerful he may seem, the god of freedom has lost many friends as the years have gone by. he has put mondstadt first plenty of times and he always will when a moment calls that he knows is his people cannot handle on their own. but for now, venti is doing things differently. he’s being indulgent. he wants to savor what the two of you have and not take you for granted. mortal lifespans pass in the blink of an eye for gods and despite his cheerful demeanor, barbatos is very aware that your light is will shine only briefly compared to his own. as such he is going to fully enjoy your company as mondstadt’s most talented and spirit-loving bard as long as you’ll have him.

zhongli

seven of swords, the lovers, ten of wands, four of wands

as rex lapis, he has done many a service to benefit liyue. has struck down gods, cultivated mountains and provided the world its currency. but as zhongli the man he is no longer tightly tied to those obligations as he once was. now he is free to love you for as long as time allows. his true identity as the lord of geo is still a secret he keeps from you, he plans to tell you soon enough but as it stands zhongli wishes to enjoy your relationship as it is without that knowledge hovering over your head for a while longer. should you accept him and his love fully, knowledge of his identity included, your contract is as follows: you will remain by each other’s side as each other’s sole partner’s until death do you part. it’s life-binding and as good as marriage although zhongli isn’t opposed to a wedding. if you leave it to him, you’ll have the most extravagant wedding ever seen in the history of liyue- no in the whole of teyvat. just try not to let his fanciful tastes put you in bankruptcy.

ei

six of pentacles, five of swords, the moon, six of cups

in some ways ei is just as selfish as venti when it comes to you. ei knows loss, she knows it too well in fact. losing makoto was enough to nearly destroy her and cause her to hide away in a realm unseen by the mortal eye. she doesn’t want to entertain the thought of the pain losing you would cause her but it is never too far from her mind. still, ei loves you as much dedication as she places in leading inazuma, perhaps even more so. you have a prolonged honeymoon phase in this relationship. there’s something innocent about it, you’re likely her first love and she revels in the new memories she makes with you while opening up about the fond memories she shared with friends long since passed. it’s hard opening up to her people. she’s spent so long in the realm of euthymia and the reverance inazumans hold for her make it hard to connect, but you are one of the few people she can simply be “ei” with and that is good enough for her.

rukkhadevata

the hierophant, destiny, king of cups, ace of cups

rukkhadevata’s love flows as easily as the soothing rain nurturing saplings to grow. you’d think it would be hard to forget that she is a god and yet somehow you do when you’re with her with how easy it was for you to connect with her. fate is a fickle thing but perhaps you were meant to love the dendro archon and she was meant to love you, your lives are intertwined as a tangle of vines. your relationship is one that wasn’t merely by chance, at least that is what the god of the wood believes. (and who are you to doubt the god of wisdom?)  rukkhadevata didn’t shy away from her feelings when she realized how deeply they ran for you and she doesn’t shy from them now even when she has an entire nation to lead. it’s easy to love rukkhadevata and for her, it is more than easy to love you.

bonus:

nahida

four of wands, king of swords, the hanged man, temperance

the smallest archon with the most amount of love to share with everyone. she’ll put aside her needs for sumeru even if it means putting her own life at risk. nahida knows she is a long way from the archon the people of sumeru need her to be, but these things take time. rushing the progress of trial and error benefits no one, least of all an entire nation depending on her, but nahida knows you are one of her closest friends she can rely on for help. nahida is wise but still naïve in the way of human interaction. she’s 500 years old but still a child by the standards of the divine. so nahida likes that she can still be that child with you and learn the ways of mortal interaction so she can be the best archon for her people. just don’t be surprised when she stumps you with her analogies or with questions to deep even for you to understand. it’s all fun and games in the eyes of the young dendro archon and she’s an adorable companion to have.

[watchyourbuck]

I take what I want

-----------------

one shot | ship: buddie | nsfw | explicit

Imagine Buck and Eddie’s third date. It goes well - really well -, and the romance is great, but now they both want something else.

So, Eddie drives Buck home, and instead of leaving him at the door like he did the two previous times, he goes inside and locks it.

Buck is perplexed, to say the least, staring at the shorter man who for some reason now looks ten times stronger than before, and decides to face his whole body towards him.

“What are you doing?”

And Eddie would love to explain it to him. The way his eyes glazed with the streetlights, and his pants wrapped perfectly around his ass, and how fucking gorgeous that red shirt looked on him, but what he owns in strength he lacks in words, so he doesn’t.

No, this time? This time he walks the distance between them and pushes Buck against the wall, taking his face with both hands and kissing him roughly. At first he thinks Buck won’t reciprocate, maybe too stunned to do nothing but wait for it to pass, but then he opens his mouth.

That’s when Eddie knows it’s over.

They touch and grope; it’s not careful. Shirts get tossed, belts get loosened. By the time they break to catch their breath, they’re mostly naked.

Buck would love to look down, but he’s scared Eddie will follow his lead and not like what he sees, cuz he’s been going to the gym for three years now, but he still feels too little. Just as little as he was when he met the 118.

However, nothing prepares him for the sultry look that takes over the older man’s face. It’s tainted with what seems to be lust, but resembles hunger. It’s dark, it’s menacing, it’s beautiful.

“You… like?”

His words threaten to break the enchantment but Eddie’s forearm quickly takes its place on Buck’s neck, choking him and pushing him back. “You have no idea.”

And that’s all it takes, really. After that, neither of them remembers going for the lube, or putting on a condom. All they can say is how good it felt when Eddie turned Buck around and pinned him to the wall, gripping his hips with bruising force, only to enter him without hesitation.

He remembers the initial pain, followed by softer words of encouragement, but mostly he remembers Eddie’s praise. ‘Buck, Buck, Buck’. A plea for each thrust.

Then he’s coming. Inside.

Yet Buck barely has a minute to savor the win of being filled when Eddie’s turning him around and kneeling in front of him, taking him whole inside his mouth.

He moves quickly, expertly, despairingly.

So, Buck’s younger, so what? He comes really fast, banging his head and gripping nothing. He releases much more than he ever had, and Eddie swallows it all. It’s impressive.

Still, not a single warning made his way before Eddie’s standing up and forcing his tongue down Buck’s throat, kissing him like his life depended on it -and you know what? I might-.

The pleasure’s convenient though, when only three seconds later Eddie’s pulling away and slapping him on the shoulder.

“Nice” he says, then walks upstairs. “Gonna use your bathroom before cuddling your ass”.

Buck’s left there, panting, moaning, hard.

What even happened?

(Okay this is my first time writing smut for this ship sjdjdjs how did y’all feel?)