#[!! I hope this is alright! For clean and things!]

[short-honey-badger]

Doll

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: Shanks meets an escaped slave from Marie Geois and swears to teach her how to live.

Notes* hey lovelies. As you can see from the oneshots, I'm finally back in action. I hope you enjoy the start of my new series that I'm planning to help me really get going. Expect some protective Shanks and some darker elements. Pretty fast pace just cause that how I enjoy writing him lol. I've really missed writing for him and sharing works with you wonderful people. Anyway, enjoy! ❤️

Doll Masterlist

There aren't many things that could surprise Shanks on the Grand Line anymore, but the woman that sat at the bar could definitely be considered a good one. He didn't recognize her, but he could tell that she was in a league above the other patrons that sat around the bar. She sat in the back corner, a bottle of booze sat on the table in front of her that she occasionally took a pull from. Shanks sat at the front and got the attention of the bartender.

“Who's she?” He asked and the man shrugged as he cleaned a dingy glass.

“Dunno. She blew in a couple of days ago. She pays, so I don't ask questions.”

Shanks huffed and ordered a drink for himself, “And whatever she's been drinking, too.”

Drinks in hand, Shanks stood from the bar and ambled over to the table where the woman sat. He plonked the bottle down and, head tilting to the side, “This seat taken?”

You looked up, blinking rapidly as if coming out of a daze and gave the redhead a smile once you focused on the ale he'd sat beside your empty one. “Is now.”

Shanks grinned and plonked down in the chair opposite you and leaned back and eyed you from under his bangs, “You from about here?”

The woman shakes her head, a mysterious little smirk painting her lips, “Nope. And I can tell that you aren’t either.”

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing in thought before her eyes brighten like a bulb has gone off, “You’re Shanks, right?”

The emperor huffs and gestures to himself, “You caught me.”

He doesn’t expect the woman to go quiet, an almost contemplative look about her as she shifts in her chair. He can’t help but lean in, curious despite himself.

“Maybe you could help me out then?” You murmur and flick your eyes up to meet his own. Shanks is surprised to see the desperation lingering there, hidden behind the self-assurdness that you seem to wear like a second skin. What would a girl like you need help with?

“Alright, I’ll bite. Tell me what’s going on. Don’t let my money go to waste though, doll,” he murmurs and gestures to the untouched ale that he’d brought over. You smile in thanks and take a sip, wetting your mouth as you get ready to spill. You can only hope that the emperor will accept.

With shaking hands you reach up and unbutton the top few notches of your shirt, just enough to expose your left shoulder where the brand still tugs uncomfortably at your skin. Even though you’ve had the brand for years now, you’ll never get used to the sickening way it pulls at your skin. The constant reminder that you were owned.

Shanks sucks in a sharp breath, the brand of a slave staring back at him in before he tears his eyes away and looks back at you, “How’d you escape?”

You grimace and button back up, eyes flinty, “My old master,” you hiss the word in disgust, “Sent me on an errand in Sabaody so I took my chance. That was about a month ago now. They’re stil looking for me.”

“Who got your off the archipelago?” Shanks asks and downs half his tankard of rum in one go. He’s met slaves before while visiting the string of islands, but with Silvers there, Shanks steered clear most of the time unless he happened to drift close. The though that even after all that Fisher Tiger had done, the Celestial Dragons still kidnapped and baught slaves. It disgusted the emperor to have seen that brand on a woman like you.

You shrug and bite your bottom lip. You busy your hands by playing with the ring of condensation that the bottle of ale has left behind, “Didn’t really catch their names. I stowed away the first ship I could find and I’ve been drifting ever since. I just… I can’t go back to that place Shanks. I don’t want them to find me.”

Shanks doesn’t know what makes him reach out, but he takes both your hands in his own, and wow, you were such a small thing weren’t you? He squeezes your palms and gives you a confident grin to hide the rage that threatens to erupt like an active volcano. He may have just met you, but there is a feeling in the pit of his stomach that tells him that he’d met someone special. Someone that could change his life, and he finds himself hardpressed to even think of letting you slip away from him.

“Don’t worry, doll. I won’t ever let that happen,” Shanks swears, and it’s then that a thought crosses his mind. A blush flushes his face and he peers at you, “Maybe you outta tell me your name, though. Or I could just keep calling you doll. Either works for me.”

Your laugh sends a shot of heat straight to his stomach, and your smile could light up the sky, “My name is _, but you can keep calling me Doll if you’d like.”

Shanks meets your grin with one of his own and then stands, carefully pulling you up with him, “Well, doll. How about you come meet my crew?”

Shanks stays close to you for the rest of the evening, introducing you to each one of his crewmates and pointing out what they do aboard the ship. You smile and make conversation, though some of it is stilted and awkward, like you aren’t sure how to talk to someone so casually. You loosen up after a couple more drinks, and find yourself leaning against your new captain, bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you watch the crew’s antics.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you, Shanks. Do you think that you could teach me?”

Your voice is soft, breath featherlight against his skin, and Shanks thinks that he would do anything for you in that moment. Instead, he tips a bottle of rum up to his lips and takes a deep swig before he answers.

“Sure, sweetheart. What do you want to know?’

Your eyes burn with a sort of determination that the emperor doesn’t see often, and it makes anticipation well up in his chest as you lick your lips and look at him.

“Everything, Shanks. I want to know everything.”

He sets the bottle away so that he can give you his full attention. He can feel the air thicken, the winds and sea changing as he dips his head and reaches out to cup your face in his hand. He swipes his thumb along your jaw, then your chin, eyes never leaving your own.

“Then that’s what I’ll do, Doll. I’ll teach you how to live, yeah?”

[ryebread0605]

If it's alright with you, can I request threesome with Trey and Rook? Rough sex but has a really sweet end to it. Thank you!

Hehehehehe I’m so excited to do this ask anon I absolutely love the “gentle seeming guy (Trey in this case) is actually into rough sex” trope (hope you don’t mind that Trey is a bottom in this!)

In the quietest parts of the night, when most students were fast asleep dreaming of many things, you got to live out some of your own dreams.

You were staying in Rook’s room for the evening with your other boyfriend Trey, the three of you being polyamorous. And when a certain someone had to place a pillow over his lap as he saw his boyfriend’s changing into their pajamas, one thing led to another to end up with you three in the current situation.

“Look at you, drooling like a dog over some cock~” your words were said in such a soft manner that it almost didn’t register in the poor green haired boy’s mind that it was meant to be degrading. But it was true, drool rolled down his chin as you thrust yourself in and out of his mouth. 

Behind him, Rook was moving at the same pace in and out of his hole, whispering such perverted words that all the boy could do is whine in response. His dick was hard yet locked in a chastity cage, both you and Rook had decided he would not get to cum until you two allowed it.

“Mon Amour, you look delicious all laid out for us~ I wonder what Rois de Roses would think seeing you like this~ his precious vice housewarden a complete cockdrunk whore~” with each word, Rook grew rougher with his thrusts, making Trey moan louder and desperately grip onto your thighs to ground himself, whining and trying to grind against the pillow propping his hips up.

“Ah ah ah~ bad boy~ you don’t get to move at all, remember~? Need me to tie you up~?” The smirk you added at the end made Trey’s eyes widen as he shook his head (or at least attempted to with your dick down his throat). Another smirk from you and the feeling of your hand gripping his hair made his mind melt even more. 

“What do you think Mon amour, think our dear Chevalier des Roses deserves some relief~?” Rook had a mischievous look in his eyes, one that made you grin as well. With a small nod, Rook undid and took off the chastity cage from around Trey, causing the green haired boy to sigh in relief while continuing to suck on your dick. What he wasn’t expecting was to have both his boyfriends suddenly pick up speed and intensity, thrusting into him so hard that all his brain could think of was the never ending pleasure and the desperate need to cum. His eyes rolled back and back arched as his hard cock twitched in need. He looked up at you with puppy dog eyes, begging silently for permission.

“Awwww is the little whore close~? Well, I think you’ve waited long enough, go on then~” he didn’t need to be told twice by you, cum spurting from his cock only moments later as he moaned loudly around yours, causing you to cum as well and watch as some dribbled down his chin. Soon after, Rook’s hips stilled as the hot ropes of cum painted Trey’s insides white.

All three of you, now panting and spent, were coming down from your highs as you and Rook pulled out and lay beside Trey. Rook was the first to recover enough energy to get up, not surprising due to his level of stamina from hunting. He went and grabbed a warm, damp towel and began gently wiping up the mess on Trey.

“Mon amour, you did wonderfully for us, we are very proud of you” Trey’s cheeks turned red at the comment but an exhausted smile crept onto his face as you chimed in as well,

“You’re such a good boy for us every time, you’re always so good at taking what we give you darling. Now how about you get some rest, we don’t want Riddle seeing how exhausted you are and asking any questions” his cheeks flushed more at that before he started to laugh a bit at the image of that, making both you and Rook laugh as well. 

Once fully cleaned up, and with fresh sheets on the bed, the three of you cuddled up under the blankets with you sandwiched between the two other boys and all fell into a deep sleep, feeling loved and safe by each others side.

[sturn-saturn]

white tee

pairing: fem!reader x chris

you really had to stay in. with midterms right around the corner, you had no business even leaving your room because of the amount of studying you had to do.

your best friend calls you amidst your study session and begs you to just go out for this one night. her favorite frat house is throwing a party and she insists you come.

“cmon, you’ll have fun i’m sure of it. and who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone.” she says wiggling her eyebrows with hopes she can convince you to come along.

“dude you know i can’t afford to any parties right now, especially with midterms.”

“please. i’ll help you study tomorrow i swear. just come along.”

you throw your head in your hands and sigh, “you know what, fine. i’ll meet you at your dorm in an hour.”

-

one thing you learned around frat parties is it can get extremely crowded, people knocking into each other, drinks spilling, sweat covered bodies, but truly, you didn’t mind it. but tonight just wasn’t the night for it.

you decide to get a drink to let loose, Lord knows you need it.

while taking a sip, someone knocks into you and there goes your drink, spilled all over your white tee making it see through.

“great.” you mumble to yourself.

“fuck. i’m so sorry. are you alright?”

“yeah, no, all good. my shirts just all wet now.” you chuckled mostly to yourself.

you look up to see a guy a little taller than you, beautiful blue eyes, sharp nose, and a perfect smile.

a random guy walks by you, eyeing your chest making you feel extremely uncomfortable due to the drink spilling on your top.

the guy in front of you noticed and tears his zip up off his body and throws it over you covering your top half.

“cmon let’s get you cleaned up,” he says into my ear. “i’m chris by the way.”

“y/n. it’s nice to meet you chris.”

“pleasures all mine.” he smiles.

[quintessenceofdust88]

Little Blobs

Hey everyone!! I bring you a new chapter of Little Blobs on this fine Wednesday. From here on, I intend to follow a more logical timeline lol and we'll get to see how Buck's pregnancy progresses from the very start. I hope you enjoy it <3

“What's got you pouting so early in the morning, Buckaroo?" 

Hen’s voice, paired with the smell of fresh coffee, manages to snap Buck out of his mind. He accepts the mug she’s placing in front of him automatically, but he didn’t drink it; he’s too nauseous. Or too guilty. Or both. 

You see, there’s a reason why everybody calls Buck a human golden retriever. It was usually so rare for him to be in a mood, but lately... He’s so often tired, and so often nauseous, that it’s been hard to keep his spirits up. Like that morning with Tommy.

Even though they’ve been together for eighteen months, it was a rare occurrence for their shifts to align so perfectly that they could get ready for work together in the morning. Usually, those moments would make Buck giddy with the domesticity of it all. Not today, apparently.

From the minute he woke up, Buck had just been off, feeling tired and nauseous and out of sorts. And for no reason at all, he simply snapped at Tommy for the leftover fruit he had left in the blender (which, sure, could be a little annoying, but not *that* annoying). Buck knew right away that his "Damn, Tommy, how hard is it to keep things clean?! It's like living in a frat house again!" had been uncalled for. 

Tommy had looked at him in surprise, muttered a "Sorry, Evan" and turned his back to Buck, apparently laser-focused on washing the blender. Buck knew right then that he should apologize, but he was still too pissy to do it, and their goodbyes had been frosty when they left for their respective stations.

And that's how Hen finds him, staring at the void and wondering if he should text Tommy and let him know how sorry he is or wait to do it in person once their 48-hour shifts are over.

Before Buck knows it, he’s spilling out to Hen, kind of expecting her to call him out for being an idiot to his husband, but instead, Hen hums thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I can't help but notice you *have* been moody lately, Buck. Far too moody for a newlywed, if you ask me" She teases lightly, and Buck gives her a half-hearted smile.

"I promise you, Tommy’s not the problem” He reassures her.  “He’s not even complaining about my bitchiness and the fact I have slept on top of him every single time we've sat to watch a movie together for the last three weeks"

"Wait, you?!" Hen asks, her eyebrows going up. "Evan 'ball of energy' Buckley..."

"Buckley-Kinard" He corrects eagerly, his smile widening despite himself at that.

"My bad" Hen chuckles. "Evan 'ball of energy' Buckley-Kinard, falling asleep during movie nights? Aren’t you the one who’s usually researching fun facts and talking a mile a minute, instead of letting people actually listen to what’s going on?"

"Yeah!" Buck agrees, nodding enthusiastically, not even a little self-conscious; Tommy says his ramblings are cute. "But lately, I don't know, I... I thought maybe I was tired from wedding planning, but it’s been a month since we got married. I don’t know what’s going on, Hen"

"Hey, you two!" Bobby's voice interrupts whatever it is Hen planned to say. “Breakfast is about ready, wanna join the rest of us?”

And Buck intends to, truly he does. But the minute he approaches the kitchen and the smell of Bobby’s frittata reaches his nose, he can’t. The nausea that bubbles up in his stomach is too strong to ignore, and he finds himself rushing to the bathroom.

By the time he comes back, Bobby is waiting for him with worried eyes and a glass of ice cold water, that Buck gratefully sips slowly. 

“Alright there, Buck?” He asks, and Buck nods sheepishly, not liking the way everyone’s looking at him as if he’d keel at any moment. 

“Fine, Cap. Sorry about that. Think I caught a stomach bug or something” He mutters, still sipping his water, and Hen looks as if she’s about to add something when the bell rings. 

They don’t get a chance to sit down and talk again, not in private anyway, but Buck feels Hen’s gaze landing upon him all through their 48-hour shift. It’s especially sharp when he falls asleep in the middle of the afternoon and when he barely touches Bobby’s meatloaf at dinner.

It’s a look that Hen has when she feels someone’s being particularly dense, and Buck’s not completely sure what he’s done to deserve it this time, other than being overly snappy and tired. By the time their shift is over, he’s more than ready to go home, wait for Tommy (he had sent an apology text that morning after all, and Tommy’s easy forgiveness had almost made him cry. And just about half an hour ago, Tommy texted that he was caught on a call and would probably be late, which almost made him cry again) and sleep for the next 12 hours.

Before he can leave, though, Hen’s voice calls from inside the station.

“Buck, wait!” She says, approaching him with a small paper bag in her hands. 

“What’s that you got there, Hen? Don’t tell me you’ve gotten me a present” He teases her, and Hen looks uncertain.

“Well” She says carefully. “It all depends on how you’ll see things. And maybe I’m wrong anyway, but. I think you should take these” 

She hands him the bag, and Buck opens it up to see three different brands of pregnancy tests inside. He widens his eyes, looking from the bag to Hen, and she’s looking expectantly at him.

“Hen, you don’t think I’m…” Buck can’t even say it; the possibility had never crossed his mind, and yet… It feels like his brain is short-circuiting as he revisits his latest symptoms in his mind. 

“Well, why not? You are a carrier, aren’t you? You told me that when you were debating if you could be a surrogate to your friends” She says, and Buck nods dumbly. “And, well, I know you and Tommy get… busy with each other very often.”

“We…Well, yeah, but I take birth control” Buck says, frantically recalling the last few weeks in his mind and wondering if he could’ve forgotten to take the pill at some point. And then it dawns on him how frantic their wedding day had been, and yeah, he doesn’t remember taking it on that day. Or the day after. Or during their weekend honeymoon in San Diego (they had been… busy, as Hen would put it). “Oh, fuck, Hen, what if I’m pregnant?! I can’t be pregnant right now, it’s not the plan!”

“Buckaroo, I don’t know what the plan is, but life doesn’t tend to care for it. Maybe you’re not; I’m just saying it’s a possibility and you should check it” Hen says placatingly. “If it’s positive, you and Tommy will figure it out; if it’s negative, you owe me 30 bucks for the tests”

“There’s only one of me” He jokes automatically, but his mind is nowhere near it. “T-thanks anyway, Hen. I… I’ll take those as soon as I’m home” Before Tommy arrives, he decides; there’s no reason to get his husband worked up over nothing if they’re negative. And if they’re positive, Buck has some time to decide on how to tell him.

“You’re welcome, Buckaroo. When you have the results and are ready to share, let me know, ok? Good luck!”

She’s gone before Buck can ask if good luck means positive or negative. He’s not sure he knows what he wishes for right now.

Tommy turns off the engine in his truck, content to see Evan’s Jeep already in the garage. Content but not surprised, considering he got caught up in a search and rescue and is two hours late. He has a strong suspicion his husband’s been catching up on some sleep during those hours, because he hasn’t answered Tommy’s text asking what he wanted for dinner; he had gone with pizza as a safe bet, though Evan’s appetite had been all over the place lately. Tommy knows that the younger man can be stubborn about his health, but he will drag him to a doctor if he isn’t better by the weekend.

He tries to enter home without making much noise, putting the pizzas on the kitchen table. Evan’s not at the kitchen or living room, and the house is completely silent. Tommy makes his way to their bedroom, ready to gently wake Evan up so he can get some food in him before they go to bed for the night; they probably won’t get up to anything fun tonight, both of them exhausted from their shifts, but if Tommy has anything to say about it, they’ll spend the next 24 hours in their bed making up for it. 

But when he gets to their bedroom, he’s surprised by an empty and still made bed, and no husband in sight. Tommy frowns, starting to worry. 

“Evan?!” He calls. 

“I’m in here…” Evan answers, his voice coming from the en-suite bathroom that Tommy hadn’t even noticed was with the door ajar. Something in Evan’s voice makes Tommy rush to it, and he opens the door to find his husband sitting on the floor; he looks up at him with dazed eyes, his fist tightly clutched around something Tommy can’t see. 

“Babe, are you okay?! Was it your stomach again?” Tommy asks, kneeling down by his side and automatically raising his hand to feel Evan’s forehead; it’s not hot, and when he gently takes Tommy’s hand in his free one, Tommy sees it’s cold and sweaty. To his horror, he can also see tears pooling up in Evan’s eyes. “Did something happen, Evan?”

Evan laughs somewhat hysterically at that, which doesn’t help with Tommy’s nerves at all. Then he nods, caressing Tommy’s hand with his thumb, making gentle circles.

“Y-yeah, something happened. I… I figured out why I snapped at you the other day” He says, his voice thick, and Tommy lets out a sigh of relief. 

“Sweetheart, I can’t believe you’re still thinking about that. It was nothing, I already said I…” He doesn’t get to finish the sentence, though, because Evan is opening Tommy’s hand and pressing the three plastic sticks that he was so tightly holding against it. 

Tommy looks down at them with a frown, and his heart skips a beat when he realizes what they are: pregnancy tests. Two of them show two lines and, even if Tommy didn’t know what that means (he does; he absolutely does), the third one is a fancy digital kind that has the word in bold letters: PREGNANT. 

He looks from the tests to Evan, his mouth agape, and his husband’s looking back at him with expectant blue eyes and the tiniest hint of a frown between his eyebrows. 

“I… On the wedding frenzy I guess I forgot to take my pill” He says, and he takes Tommy’s stunned silence as a cue to continue. “I… I know it’s not the plan, I know we said we’d wait at least a year before kids, I…”

Tommy can’t take it anymore; in a move that has become signature by now, he grabs his chin and presses a gentle soft kiss against his mouth. When the kiss is done, Evan is the one left agape, while Tommy can’t stop a smile from widening across his face. 

“Fuck the plan, Evan. Are you happy?” He asks earnestly; Tommy knows he is, and the more it dawns on him, the happier he gets. But it’s Evan’s body and Tommy knows he’s much more of a planner than himself, so he’ll rein in the excitement if Evan needs to process this differently. 

But to his relief, Evan gives him that adorable crooked smile, looking down at the tests Tommy’s holding, and then at his own belly, then back at Tommy with eyes full of joy. 

“Yeah, I’m happy. I’m fucking thrilled, Tommy. We’re having a baby!” He says, as it’s just dawning on him, and hearing him say it out loud makes it dawn on Tommy too. 

They smile at each other like two idiots, and before Tommy knows it, he’s helping Evan up and pulling him in a tight hug, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. He lets out a delighted laugh, feeling happier than he’s ever felt before, except maybe for their wedding day. 

“We’re having a baby, oh my God, that’s incredible. You’re incredible” He says, resting his chin on Evan’s shoulder, and then with a dawning sense of realization, he steps back, looking at him worriedly. “Oh my God, are you okay?! Is the baby okay? Can you tell if they’re okay?! Damn we need to schedule a doctor’s appointment, and probably start thinking about a nursery, and you have to talk to Bobby and…”

“Babe” Evan interrupts him, sounding way too amused (Tommy’s not often the one to freak out between the two) as he puts both his hand in Tommy’s face, effectively shutting him up. “I’m sure the baby’s fine. I’ll talk to Bobby on my next shift, and we can figure out everything else tomorrow. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re making sense” Tommy easily agrees, nodding and looking at Evan with a scrutinizing gaze. “Are you okay, though, Evan? What do you need?”

“I’m fine, Tommy” He says, his voice sounding between exasperated and amused, but Tommy doesn’t care if he’s being overbearing. Evan is the most precious person in the world to him, and now he’s carrying the other most precious person in the world to him. Tommy will do anything for him. “What I need is food. I’m finally not feeling nauseous and I wanna take advantage of it while it lasts. Please tell me you brought dinner?”

“You didn’t answer me, so I brought pizza. But if you want anything else, anything else, I’ll go and get it in fifteen minutes max. Just name it, babe” Tommy offers, and Evan smiles bashfully, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Pizza is more than fine, but I might make use of this generosity at some point in the next nine months” He says, and Tommy knows it’s meant like a tease, but if anything, it sounds like a promise.

“Anytime you want” He says, and then his hand goes straight to Evan’s still flat belly. He can’t see or feel anything, but knowing their little one is there is enough to fill his heart for now. “For you two, anything, anytime”

“Hey” Evan says, putting his own hand on top of Tommy’s, his smile bright enough to outshine the Sun itself. “I love you”

“I love you too, Evan”

–

A smile spreads across her face, and she sends back a congrats, daddies!! before deleting both messages. Karen has full access to her phone and her to Karen’s, and she knows her wife can’t keep a secret for her life, so she won’t take any chances. But God is she happy for those two. 

When Hen’s cellphone dings, she’s about to go to bed; after coming home from their 48-hour shift, she had helped Karen with the kids’ nightly routine and the two of them had spent some time together watching TV and drinking wine after tucking them in. Now she’s pleasantly sleepy and ready to enjoy a good night of sleep and then three whole blessed days off.

And yet, her conversation with Buck has been on the back of her mind all day. When Hen sees the message she got is from him, it’s with eager hands that she unlocks her phone and opens their thread. There’s only two emojis and five words looking back at her: 👶🏻👍🏻 but don’t tell anyone yet!

One thing Hen knows: they’re going to be wonderful fathers. 

--

[More from Little Blobs Verse]

Tag list: (let me know if you'd like to be removed or if I missed anyone! Also if anyone else wants to be tagged, either on my fics in general or just the Little Blobs' Verse, let me know! ♥)

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter @rubydaiquiri  @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie

[schluttforschlatt]

Bartender pt. 2

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Parings: Schlatt x Reader

AN: more setup and character building, the next chapter will focus more on Schlatt

I love yall!! Hope you enjoy :)

You watched the clock across the bar while absentmindedly wiping down the counter. The little hand ticking closer to the next minute provided minimal joy, but meant another minute closer to going home.

3:47

3:48.

The bar was fairly vacant this time of day, with the sun still being out and most patrons wrapping up their day at the office. Of course there were a few early birds partaking in their choice of drink, but they were typically the one drink and done type. The kitchen got more action from this crowd than you ever did behind the bar. It was also a Thursday, another factor that limited the amount of customers wandering in. You moved to the ice machine to refill your well, deciding to wipe that down, too. Not like there was much else to do.

After returning with the bucket of ice and dumping it in, three men strolled on in. You greeted them while one broke off from the group and made his way towards the restroom.

“Welcome on in! Seat yourselves!” Your cheery voice rang. One of them turned and waved a hand as a ‘thanks’, flashing a small smile. You took note of how young they all looked, a contrast to the other occupants inside, then returned the ice bucket back to its home.

I hope one of them actually buys a drink.

You sighed, looking around for something to refill or deep clean. It was hard finding things to keep busy with on weekdays, especially afternoon weekdays. There were only so many bottles of liquor to dust or beer taps to polish before becoming tedious. You settled on rolling silverware, occasionally glancing up from the task to peek at the men.

They settled into a booth after their friend had exited the restroom, sharing a few laughs. They were discussing something about a sponsorship from what you could gather. It’s not eavesdropping if they’re talking loud enough for you to hear.

After about fifteen minutes, one of them got up and strolled over to you behind the bar. He stood there impishly and waited for you to notice. You placed the silverware to the side and turned to take his order.

“Would you like me to run a tab for you?” You asked, looking up at the man.

“Yeah, what would be great,” he smiled. Taking in his features while he recited an order, you couldn’t help but notice how soft his eyes looked. They were warm, an amber-ish brown color, with long eyelashes, reminding you of bourbon: you could get drunk on them alone.

“Alright, I just need to see-“ before you could finish your sentence, three IDs were placed on the counter. Checking over them, you nodded in approval as he picked them up, securing them in his jacket pocket.

You took in more of his face. Strong nose and wide chin, facial hair growing down his jaw. He was very attractive. And also very tall. While his face was inviting, his stature was imposing, towering almost a foot (if not more) above you. You continued to input his order into the register, feeling your face grow warm.

“You got it, boss. I’ll have those out for you in just a moment.” You grinned while moving back down the bar to start the drinks. One lager from the tap, a grasshopper, and a double whiskey neat. Easy enough. You started the lager first, pulling the tap with your right hand, while reaching to grab a whiskey with your left, pouring it into a rocks glass just below the shelf. You stopped the lager once the foam was just about perfect, keeping an eye on your pour of whiskey. Maybe that’s a little more than double. Oh well. Returning the bottle back to its home on the shelf, you then grabbed a bottle of crème de menthe and crème de cacao, holding the bottles in one hand while reaching to scoop ice into a shaker with the other. After pouring, you placed the lid on the shaker, gave it a rough few tosses, removed the lid again, and gave a hearty dose of heavy cream. Replacing the lid once more, you shook it a few more times before pouring it into a coupe class, and garnishing it with a sprig of mint.

Once the three drinks were complete, you turned around to hand them to the man that had ordered them. You looked up at his face and blushed, noticing that he was staring rather intently at your back. I hope you’re not gonna be one of those customers.

“Here ya go!” You ignored his gaze and handed the drinks forward, trying to brush off the way this interaction was making you feel. He shook his head and exchanged a quiet “thanks” before a blush would creep across his own cheeks, turning around and making his way back to the table with his friends.

Normally when a man would stare, it boiled something deep within yourself and made you cringe, uncomfortable and unnerving. However, something about this guy made you feel… nice? Maybe nice wasn’t the word. Confident? Regardless, this was just another transaction with another customer and meant nothing. He hadn’t tried to actually hit on you, and seemed rather bashful that he was caught. You turned around and hummed to the song playing over the sound system, picking back up silverware to roll.

-

A few hours had passed and patrons had come and gone. It was an early night for you, which meant being out of the establishment by 8:30. Looking up at the clock, still ticking by too slowly for your liking, it was 8:15. Fifteen more minutes.

You were thankful for the hours you got here. Weekdays you were out by nine at the latest, giving you enough time at wind down with homework before getting comfy in bed. Your boss had been kind enough to work with not only your school schedule, but your schedule at the diner as well. What a saint. She had been understanding of your situation, what with needing to work two part time jobs because the full time market with flexible scheduling wasn’t exactly flexible when it came down to your class schedule. And sure, taking only a few credits per quarter and being online helped a lot, but most places were looking for nine-to-fivers, not only-available-mornings-and-nighters. In no world would working two jobs be ideal, but this was mangable for you. This is manageable for now.

You made sure to restock your bar, take the bussing bin of used glasses back to the dish room, and prep garnishes before clocking out at 8:30 on the dot. The night bartender would always be handed over a neat station, with all tabs lined up on the POS ready to be cashed out. You’d worked a handful of twelve hour shifts to know how frustrating an unstocked bar could be when another bartender hadn’t pulled their weight or side work during their shifts to leave in any state other than perfect. You exchanged a few words with the closer before walking to the back of house and getting your bag to head out.

You pulled your hair out of the messy ponytail it was in and raked your fingers over your scalp, sighing at the feeling. On days like this, (slow afternoons with mostly older crowds) letting your hair down was the first step to winding down for the day. You stood up straight and stretched before snatching your bag from the desk to walk out for the night.

The weeknight bartender waved you over as soon as she saw you emerge, the tall man from earlier standing in front of the register.

“Everything all good?” You asked her, seeing a receipt and a few bills cash on the counter.

“Everything’s perfect! Just wanted to make sure you got your last tip before heading out.” She smiled, sliding the stack towards you. You reached out to grab at it when the tall man placed his hand over yours. There’s that damn blush again. He cleared his throat before speaking up.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier, I was just impressed watching you make our drinks. My friend said that was the best damn grasshopper he’s ever had,” a small smile tugged at his lips, almost as if he was embarrassed to be speaking with you. “Jus’ wanted to pass that on.” You returned the expression.

“Thank you, I hope y’all had an enjoyable night.” He removed his hand and nodded shyly, his friends leaving the booth and making their way over to him. Pocketing the tip, you ducked out the door not knowing how to continue the interaction while feeling a pang of guilt for not even getting his name. You shook it off as you took off towards your apartment, aching feet begging for the feeling of warm fuzzy socks and your comfy bed.

-

You hadn’t even walked through the door of your apartment when the cries of your cats became audible. Chuckling, you unlocked the door and stepped inside, kicking your boots off while greeting the starving felines.

“Mel, I know you think you’re dying when you go more than eight hours without wet food, but the lack of crunchies in your bowl says otherwise,” you joked at the cat as she rubbed up against your legs. You walked over to the couch and set your bag down, trying not to trip over her. You bent down to pick her up, scratching under her chin. “Let’s get you fed and ready for bed, yeah?” She chirped back at you in response. You carried her into the kitchen with the other two trailing behind you. You placed a kiss on her head before setting her down in her preferred food-receiving spot on the counter.

Your night would start the same way your morning would begin. Getting three ceramic bowls out of the cupboard, and opening up a fresh can of Fancy Feast for your three non-human children. Of course Mellie was first, followed by Oats, and lastly Bones. No other order would do. Washing your hands after serving dinner, you considered what to have for dinner. Pizza, Alfredo, or Fajitas. All TV Dinners, of course.

You settled on Alfredo, removing the meal from the freezer and popping it into the microwave. Your mind wandered to the topic of the essay you needed to finish, mentally mapping out which direction you wanted to present it. The microwave beeped bringing you out of your little trance, and you swiftly removed the tray and grabbed a fork, settling back down on the couch much like you had earlier in the day.

You powered on the television and thumbed through the applications presented. Thank God for Roku. Clicking on YouTube and waiting for your feed to pop up on the screen was the second step to winding down for the night. You scrolled through uploads for a few moments, blowing on the plate of Alfredo occasionally, until settling on a video about the history of Nintendo.

You ate in near silence, the tv only on at a low volume. Throughout the meal, you tried to brainstorm ideas for your essay. You weren’t too happy with the current direction it was going, but knew it was too late in the quarter to switch topics or start over. You sighed, swapping the now clean plate for your laptop on the coffee table, and began to furiously type away.

You weren’t sure how long you were staring at the document in front of you, but it felt like you should have had more written than you did. You only managed to get through a few paragraphs before abandoning ship. The cats had all settled down around the living room, which inspired you to do the same. You saved the document before closing your laptop and returning it to the table once again. You stood up to stretch, snatching the discarded plate to place in the kitchen sink before retiring to your bedroom.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty, determined to have made a sizable dent in the essay, only to neglect the task at hand to daydream. Sure, you often got distracted doing homework or projects, who doesn’t, but the source of your diversion tonight made you feel slightly embarrassed.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the man at the bar. About his gentle brown eyes, his soft-looking chestnut hair. Even his facial hair, a bit scraggly but somehow endearing. See? Embarrassing. He made you feel like a schoolgirl, butterflies fluttering around inside your chest. He had said maybe a total of five sentences to you and you wanted to lay down on your stomach and kick your feet in the air. After changing into pajamas and climbing under the covers, you let your mind run free, trying to recall every detail about him.

You remembered his name started with the letter J, having only glanced to verify his age when he handed you his ID. Was it Jason? James? Jared? You couldn’t recall, but hey, at least you knew it started with a J. Against better judgement, you unlocked your phone and opened up Tinder, deciding to swipe and see if just maybe this guy would magically show up. Maybe he was local and was just out for some cheap drinks with friends from out of town. Maybe he’s only in town for some family thing, linking up with buddies from college. The possibilities were endless, much like the men you continued to swipe past. Your eyes began to feel heavy, the grip on your phone weakening. The search can continue tomorrow. You plugged your phone in to charge, quickly checking to see that your alarms for the morning were set, before locking the screen and drifting off to sleep.

[pebbleyoufindonthestreet]

*dies*

Sans comfort page

[running-in-the-dark]

I have officially started painting the walls in the living room.

well, I've mixed/adjusted the paint and painted some swatches and put up masking tape and all that stuff. I'll be painting tomorrow. I'm so excited (to get started, but mostly that I'll finally be all done with evvvverything*)

*until I think of the next thing I want to do, and the next one after that, and -

[theloveinc]

always finkin about bein’ dilf!bakugo’s secretary hehe <3

i thought of him every day at the desk job i had, too🙏🏻

i feel like ... he sees you before he meets you. and it's not any kind of personal thing until it is. all non-hero hires are approved by him, yes, but he doesn't go through the actual hiring process with anyone cuz he assumes he's never gonna meet them aside from dropped off papers and few phone calls here and there when required.

but then you appear on his floor, right there next to the nurse station and the break room with the nicest coffee machine, and for some reason it's not like any of the other times new secretaries have been hired and sat outside his office.

and he always sees you, stares at you when he thinks you aren't looking, pondering just why and how he thinks you're so pretty, though you can always seem to tell and turn to talk to him like you pity him just a little bit. but his rusty heart flutters nonetheless (much to his chagrin) because he thinks you're the sweetest thing since kiri's daughter (which he'd never admit, not with how many diapers he's been made to change) to include him in your conversations with other team members.

and because he's older now, often remembers that even denki got married a couple years ago, he needs someone to daydream about at least to make the time pass since he's started thinking about all kinds of old man shit (see: his lonely ass bachelor pad). but he doesn't want that void filled with the pregnant florist from around the corner, nor the ditzy, young barista boy who once spilled chocolate syrup on his boots (he doesn't even like chocolate syrup).

but who does that leave except you? for him to think about when he passes by nice restaurants suited for romantic dates, or beautiful bouquets and liquors when he's sending flowers to his parents, OR even kids who get in his way when he's patrolling in family neighborhoods.

your job is already soooo domestic, and you always put little smiley faces and doodles on the post-its filled with reminders you leave for him, wave at him so sweetly from across the hall even though he's heaving and scowling; that has to mean something, doesn't it? DOESN'T IT?????

especially when he's at home and his dick is hard and god damnit, you wore those pants the other day, with the shirt that shows a lil bit of your cleavage and he needs a wank so bad and there is no one else he wants to envision :((((

so if he thinks about the (green? orange?) sliver of thong he saw the other day or maybeeee wedding and pregnancy sex and then comes in the next day with donuts pestering you more than usual about this and that, that's none of anyone's business.

(until, that is, you have your own little squirt running around the agency).

[daily-scott-smajor]

259 - average day

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa: *writes a single throwaway line in one chapter of Lost and Found that is never referenced again*

Me, completely randomly and with no prompting: Alright, bet–

[bebethsas]

Okay

First of all, who even invited you to my blog, I didn't reblog it from you when I wrote my first message, what demented lamp summoned you.

I wasn't calling *you* "honey," it's just how you start a sentence when you're trying to have a more sassy/ conversational tone. It's something I do when having a conversation with someone, automatically, and I admit it's a bad habit. My mistake, I should have started with tone indicators, or maybe used a more neutral name, like 'dude.'

I politely tried asking you for a tone indicator because I couldn't tell if your tone was snarky or genuine, and didn't want to assume that it was negative.

You missed a comma in your sentence "I feel like calling you babe after you called me a complete stranger, honey, is totally fair." There should be a comma between "me" and "a," since "a complete stranger" is its own phrase. (Yes, I am, in fact, being this damn petty.)

Finally: honestly?...I'm sure you didn't intend to, but you single-handedly killed the fun from my original reblog. It was light. It was short. It was a mildly glib statement followed by a befuddled face. I enjoyed it. I hoped that other people would enjoy it. And when you responded saying that most cities in Europe have sex clubs, and they're not rare, I thought 'yup, that's fair, that's a good point,' and tried self-depreciating humor to respond to you.(A la 'yeah, I'm sure that Europe--a more open-minded place when it comes to sex--has plenty of these. Meanwhile the place where *I* live would probably have a collective heart-attack if anything spicier than a Spencer's rolled into town. Lol, aren't we (me and my neighbors) just bland and lame-ass? Aren't we just like the silly stereotype of sexually-repressed Americans??') I don't expect you to read my mind. No one asked you to read my mind. I didn't expect you to instantly know what my persepctive is, before I shared it with you. However I do ask that people who wanna refute my reblogs be civil, and, from where I'm standing, you've been particularly prickly right out of the gate.

In Summary:

there's been a couple times that i've gone to the local sex club and every time i was at an event there was one man just fully naked walking around. same guy every time. hog like a hoagie roll when flaccid and he was always flaccid. anyway at one of the less populated events i got to sit and talk with him and he told me that he told me he was always naked because, despite it being a sex club, people still don't know when it's 'okay' to start getting into it and he decided he'd be the one thing to break the ice and make everybody comfortable, because you know you can start doing whatever you wanna do when there's just a naked guy walking around. he then asked if i wanted a silicone copy of his dick for my strap. never in my life have i felt such an instant respect for a person.

[whateveriwant]

Task force 141 reacting to their very pregnant wife still trying to clean, cook etc

This turned more into ‘Task force 141 preventing their very pregnant wife from trying to clean, cook, etc’ lmaooooo I hope that's alright

Price

HA! Good one!

No seriously, it's actually hilarious that you think you'd do anything for yourself when your hubby's around

That man has been waiting on you hand and foot since you first got together. So now that you're pregnant and you think he'd let you so much as lift a finger? You must have a serious case of pregnancy brain, sweetheart

Price is doing all the cooking, the cleaning, the running errands, etc. throughout the entirety of your pregnancy (and at least the first several months postpartum)

He's kept you practically bed bound these last few months to the point where you think there's a perfect indent of your body molded into the mattress

Seven months in, he's suddenly called away to a quick mission halfway across the globe, and you think finally you'll get some of your autonomy back...

Well, think again because who should show up at your door the next morning than your mother-in-law herself, ready to pick up where her son left off

She came at the behest of your husband, of course, and was armed with a detailed set of care instructions

What does your husband think you are? Some sort of one-of-a-kind, priceless artifact that needs special handling? (Actually that's exactly what you are. Price-less… I'll see myself out 🚶🏻‍♀️)

Ghost

When it comes to having some semblance of independence during your pregnancy, Ghost will give you a bit of a longer leash than Price, but only just so

You’re going for a walk around the neighborhood? Hold on, let him grab his coat to join you. Or you're going into the backyard to tend the garden? He'll pull the weeds while you water the plants

But when it comes to letting you do certain things, there are some hard nos that he will absolutely not budge on

You try to use a stepladder to reach the top of the cupboard? Stop! You'll break your neck! You try to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds? Stop! Give it here! You try to drive?... Don't even fuckin' think about it, precious.

The farther along your pregnancy progresses, the better he gets at predicting (and intercepting) your next move

You were gonna do laundry today? Well, wouldn't you know, he's already got a load going in the washer. You were about to make dinner? Well shucks, he just ordered takeaway from that Greek place you love

His ability to read your mind is honestly impressive once you get past how damn annoying you find it. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're incapable of fending for yourself, and you're tired of him acting as if otherwise

But really, you can never get mad at anything he does for you. After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he didn't take care of his missus and your little one?

Soap

If you take Ghost’s cautiousness, mix it with Price’s thoroughness, and crank it up to an 11, you get Soap

From the moment he found out you were pregnant, he put your house into full lockdown mode, stopping just short of booby trapping the front door in case you got any funny ideas

You want some fresh air? Just open a window. You want to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Just take a few turns about the living room like you're some Austenian heroine

Don't let him catch you doing any kind of physical labor, because so help him Jesus he will grab a spray bottle and use it like you're a feral alleycat he's trying to house-train (he wouldn't really... but don't test him)

You try to unload the dishwasher? Ehrr! Wrong move. You try to remake the bed? Ehrr! Nice try. You try to mop up your own mess. Ehrr! Enough already. You try to– OCH, WOULD YE BLOODY SIT DOWN, WOMAN?!

For nine long months during his requested leave from work, your husband is attached to you like some kind of loving, smothering barnacle

But doesn't he miss his job, or the lads for that matter? What if the world needs saving? What will they do without him?

Well, (in his exact words) fuck the rest of the world! You're his world, bonnie, and he'll give you everything you could ever wish for and then some

Gaz

By far, you have the most independence with Gaz than you would with any of the other three men… at least, at the beginning of your pregnancy, that is

Once you get to around five or six months he becomes just as helicopter-y as all the others; he's just ever so slightly more bearable, perhaps

There's lots of peeking his head around the corner to check on you throughout the day or appearing seemingly out of thin air whenever you're doing something he'd rather you wouldn't

You've lost count of the number of times you've been in the middle of cooking or hanging up the laundry or whatever and his hand has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gently taking the object from you before directing you to sit and rest

And like, look. He knows you can handle yourself. He knows you could conquer the whole world if you wanted to. That's one of the things he loves about you the most

But seeing you like this – so fragile, so vulnerable, so beautiful and soft and pregnant with his child; his child – it just… It makes him…

He just needs to do these things for you, alright, love? Just let him take care of you, please? Would you let him do that?

You already have so much you have to carry. Let him ease some of the burden off your shoulders. Let him do these small things for you because they don't even compare to all that you're doing for him 🥲

[11cupids-tarot11]

★Your Future Spouse's Favorite Thing About Sex With Y♡U★

1 -> 3 ꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡

Cupid's Master-List

Cupid's YouTube Channel

My Kofi shop ♡ tips are appreciated, thank you guys so much!! Ily >< I still have two more available spots for my sale on Channeled Love Letters from your future spouse 18+ only, so check it out!

Want a private reading?

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Pile 1- Nine of Cups, Knight of Swords, Nine of Coins, Seven of Coins, The Emperor, Knight of Wands, and Queen of Wands.

Hi my pile 1 pookies ><

So this person hesitated a lot and although I usually do my readings starting off with pile 1 they made me skip them and work on pile 2's and 3's first instead? I think this person is really nervous about something. Kind of in a cute anxious way like 😅 but I had to listen because no cards would come out no matter how hard or long I shuffled. What's with this person? 🥴😭

Alright so this person feels very watery and emotional about you, I think their very thing about sex with you is definitely when you're on top, taking control. I think they really like the intimacy of the positions like cow girl or reverse cowgirl, they really like when you straddle their lap in general even when you two aren't having sex and just chilling on the couch. They really like watching your face as you ride them, they like watching your body move against them, they have the perfect view of you they said lol how cute eek ><

So if you don't want kids, that's okay, it's just in this person's fantasies they want to fuck you til the point the two of you actually want to take the condom off or maybe you both forget you have to pull out because you're both so emersed in pleasure and fucking each other? They want to get you pregnant but in such a wild way, they might not actually be ready for a kid yet, but the idea of it excites them so much they're hoping that you feel the same way and also want to have their babies.

This won't resonate with everyone but I'm picking up on a situation where you guys could already be married or just have children together already, this person could really like making babies with you, the sex that leads up to all, all the love that went into it!!

I think this person really enjoys angry sex, when you're mad at them and they get off their high horse and apologize first and they love to make up with sex afterwards, this person kinda just caves cause they love you and don't really want you to stay mad at them.

This person also likes it when you surprise them with sex, they love foreplay, they really like it when you two draw out sex and don't give it to each other right away, lots of teasing and just being playful until maybe you or them starts begging the other to do something more. I think this is partially because they really like spending time with you, this is only one of their favorite ways to spend quality time with you.

So this person could be a coworker or you might meet through work, something about business here. This person right now is at the top of their career, likes to present themselves as an Emperor. This person could really want to move forward in the connection with you if you know of them already, they're brainstorming lol. They really like you, they see you as a queen in their eyes, you could present yourself very carefully, like you have this clean look about you and you're pretty I heard! You take good care of yourself and your person really loves that about you! They're bananas for you? They said some cute cheesey pick up line or maybe a punch line that I'm unfamiliar with? ><

♡ Messages from them: "The way I have treated you was wrong."

"You are so different from everyone around me."

"You've triggered me."

"I can't handle your love."

I hope you enjoyed this reading!!

Pile 2- Seven of Cups, Three of Cups, Knight of Swords, Two of Pentacles, Seven of Coins, The Empress, and Ace of Chalices.

Hi my pile 2's!

So right away I feel like there's a message here for someone that you might know of this person already, that won't be for everyone so if it doesn't fit let it fly 🪽

So your future spouse might like how different you are in the bedroom than you are irl. Like you could come off as very shy or just someone that's not very kinky and your future spouse might've perceived you as inexperienced but your person loves it when you surprise them, take the lead and I'm hearing ride them lol. They like it when you're more dominant in bed, you don't have to be the dom every time but your person loves it when you are, they'll love for you to ride them until your thighs give out lol.

This person loves close sex, sex that's very emotional and clingy to one another. I think this person will have an emotional attachment to you, like even if you don't get married in 20 years this person will love you literally the same, even if you decide to take a break, this person will still carry so much love and respect for you! They love showing you how much they care for you during sex, they'll hold you a lot, and take the lead in bed most of the time to show you, they're very emotional when it comes to you. You guys might like to have sex in bed a lot, during the day, first waking up, because your person loves being close to you. I feel like they might like it when you lay there a lot while they give you oral, they love it when you're a pillow princess and they can bring you so much pleasure.

This person loves rough sex with you, the kinda sex the two of you can't keep your hands off each other and just can't get enough. They'll still be mindful and gentle with you, they love it when you communicate your needs and let them know what you want, they'll want to indulge in your kinks and make your fantasies happen, this person is safe to explore with. I think they might like to spank you if you're open to the idea! They're not super into bdsm but they're not vanilla either, I feel like this person actually wants to see how freaky you can get and they'd just match your freak so the sex will be better and better, it's never the same really, this person can be soft one night and super rough and wild another.

This person could love missionary a lot, bringing you to an orgasm in missionary so they can see your face, they could just love seeing you orgasm in general, in pure bliss beneath them, it's like it turns them on knowing they're the ones making you feel good. This person also likes that you're an Empress, you can stand your own ground with or without a significant other, they could love to watch you masturbate. I think this person loves chasing after you, it could turn them on lol! They love the idea of pleasing you, impressing you. They really want you lol how cute.

♡ Messages from them: "I know that we have a soul connection."

"I fantasize about you."

"They will never compare to you."

"You deserve better than them."

I hope you enjoyed this reading!!

Pile 3- Four of Pentacles, King of Pentacles, Queen of Pentacles, The Lovers, Three of swords, Page of Coins, and Three of Cups.

Hi pile 3!

So right away I heard a funny little message that this person actually likes it when you yell at them, they said it in a hushed way so I feel like this person doesn't want you to actually know that 😭 lol, this person will do all kinds of things just to see you a bit angry and frustrated with them just because they find it hot? Kinda sadistic if you ask me 🥴

Your future spouse is kind of a wild card, but you might be too. I think you wouldn't imagine in a million years to settle down with this person because they always feel like they're on the move and really hard to stay in one place because they're constantly thinking of other things to do, they're very work oriented or something but I feel like at first they might not pay much attention to the relationship, they might even go as far as seeing other people but this is only in the beginning of the relationship obviously, this person will feel very drawn to you and will feel like you're they're missing puzzle piece, suddenly they don't have to be on the move anymore because no one is as interesting as you to them, you'll fill their senses I'm hearing! They'll just suddenly be so enamored with you.

I think when the two of you are intimate this person will become selfish, they'll only want you to come to them for everything, they'll really want to be your knight in shining armor, even during sex, this person will be all touchy and very sensual, they like having passionate sex with you, even if they are usually rougher you've made this person want to be all soft with you, maybe not during the whole time, but this person will definitely slow down suddenly and start giving you slower and deeper strokes, they love intimacy with you and just want to savor the moment and make sure the both of you will remember it, they want you coming back to them for more and only them. Even if this connection starts as friends with benefits this person would slowly come to hate the title, and realize they're scared of you choosing someone else over them because the title isn't permanent enough.

This person could really want to rip the clothes off you, they could rip your underwear right off you and it might surprise you. This person really loves your breasts, regardless of size they really like to suck on your nipples.

This person likes when you let down your guards for them, it could be a flex for them that they actually get to touch you in a way that this person admires you a lot and in their head they're yelling at themselves like "omg I can't believe I get to sleep with THEM, THEY'RE ACTUALLY ALLOWING ME TO???848&(_(_(&!'(&(!_(" This person thinks you're adorable, they just adore you! You could catch them staring at you a lot, like a puppy with big ol puppy dog eyes, it's the sweetest thing ever.

Even if you don't like this person the first time around or something happens that you two decide to break it off, this person would try really hard to come back around, I heard they love you even after you break their heart.

With the Page of Coins I feel like this person is actively working on the things in their life right now, all the things they want to get done they're getting done, they might be a student and they could be focused on studying a lot right now as well, but I feel like this person can't wait for the day this all pays off and they can finally reconnect with not only themselves but with friends as well, they could be in a moment of isolation right now because they're so busy studying or working.

They feel sad and lonely and their favorite thing about sex with you is being with you, they want emotional and healing sex with you, just to be close and feel the warmth of you, something about not feeling as lonely anymore with the comfort of you. :(

♡ Messages from them: "I feel lonely."

"I don't want to be alone."

"Emotions overwhelm me."

"I am better with my mind than my heart."

I hope you enjoyed this reading!!

[tgcg]

an open fly walking

i didnt like this one but i thought id finally air it out since its been sat in my folders for months now

TG: hey karkat

CG: YEAH?

===

TG: you ever noticed you like

TG: walk weird

CG: WOW, OKAY.

CG: HAVE *YOU* EVER NOTICED THAT I DON'T GIVE A SHIT?

TG: pff

===

TG: no listen because i got my ears scoping that shit im like a scouter for dude activity

TG: ok maybe me mentioning it to you is gonna fuck up your ecosystem or something but

TG: you have the heaviest feet of the century man

CG: I DO???

TG: just thrust them straight down into the ground like youre trying to homebrew a san andreas fault

TG: viciously tamping on tectonic plates hoping for top score on the richter scale

TG: waging war against solid particles and the basic flow of gravity

TG: i could ID those footfalls out of a million i mean it

CG: SERIOUSLY?

===

TG: i mean theres nothing wrong with it but

TG: yeah

CG: I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU'RE FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW.

TG: im not fucking with you striders honor

TG: when have i ever lied to anybody about anything

CG: NOT UNPACKING THAT QUESTION WITH YOU TODAY.

CG: BUT SHIT, HOLD ON. LET ME SEE.

TG: yeah take the umbrella go over there and just walk to me

CG: ON IT.

===

===

TG: see you just kinda slam em straight down dude

CG: THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY RIOTOUS FUCKING JOKE OF A LIFE.

TG: dont your feet ache

===

CG: MOOT POINT. THIS MIGHT SOUND INSANE BUT I'VE ACTUALLY HAD MY STRUT PODS FOR A WHILE. ANY KIND OF PAIN THIS WOULD'VE BEEN CAUSING WOULD BE TOTALLY FILTERED OUT OF MY SPONGE BY NOW AS BACKGROUND NOISE.

TG: damn i didnt think that through

TG: my shades

CG: ALRIGHT, GET BACK UNDER THE SHITTING UMBRELLA AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME.

TG: look ive fucked myself over here too i dont have shit to clean these with

TG: ugh

===

TG: guess its karma

CG: HOLY FUCK. HOW DID I NEVER NOTICE THIS BEFORE?

TG: i dunno but im gonna assume having a dad thats a literal crab monster is probably a contributing factor

TG: im guessing thats not a great role model for this kinda thing

TG: just conjecture i mean

CG: YOUR ENVY IS OVERWHELMINGLY OBVIOUS DAVE. AS A DISCLAIMER, HE WOULD'VE ABSOLUTELY KICKED YOUR ASS.

TG: yeah probably

CG: THAT'S PRETTY MUCH ALL THERE IS TO SAY ON THE MATTER.

===

TG: but see bro had me stringent on feather feets

TG: i bet i could slip across a bike horn warehouse with nary a fucking toot

CG: HAHA. ASSUMING YOU DON'T MAKE A TOTAL ASS OF YOURSELF, AS PER USUAL.

CG: IF YOU WEREN'T CONSTANTLY RUNNING YOUR GASH ABOUT EVERYTHING AND BEING AN INIMITABLE CLOWN I SERIOUSLY THINK YOU COULD BE ON PAR WITH YOUR CUSTODIAN.

CG: THAT IS A MONUMENTAL "IF".

TG: well look at it this way

TG: im basically doing you all a favor by being a dumbass

TG: never gonna get caught off guard by the bozo patrol

CG: WOW. GOOD POINT.

===

TG: also screw this can i use your shirt

TG: this stupid hoodie is just smudging my lenses up

TG: i cant see dick

CG: UH

CG: SURE, I GUESS.

TG: cool

===

TG: so yeah i could be prowling around like a goddamn verbal assassin sniping convos left and right

TG: but no ive got the decency to go bunp in the night

CG: YEAH.

CG: IT'S DEFINITELY COMPOUNDED BY THE CONSTANT INANE RAMBLINGS.

CG: BUT

CG: IT'S ACTUALLY PRETTY RELAXING, Y'KNOW? IT HAS ITS OWN RHYTHM.

TG: see yeah i sound it off and

===

TG: wait really?

CG: YEAH

CG: I DON'T KNOW

CG: FUCK. HOW DO I EXPLAIN THIS WITHOUT WANTING TO CRAM MY FROND DOWN MY PROTEIN CHUTE.

===

CG: IT'S LIKE

CG: A SALVE FOR MY AGGRAVATION SPONGE.

CG: YOUR VOICE IS THE HUMAN EQUIVALENT OF ASPIRIN.

TG: uh damn karkat hold your hoofbeasts i was talking about the rhythm thing

CG: ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT. I'M TAKING US BOTH THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW. YOU HAVE REACHED THE BAD END OF THIS CONVERSATION.

TG: you think thatd be heroic or just

CG: IF I WAS STILL GHOSTING AROUND THE RUINS OF SGRUB'S ARCANE FRIGGIN GAME SYSTEMS, THE COMPLETE LACK OF SHIT AFOOT NOWADAYS WOULD BORE ME TO DEATH.

CG: LIKE. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME OUR THERMAL HULL LEVELLED UP, DAVE?

TG: hah

===

TG: but uh

TG: i mean we had aspirin on earth

CG: NO, NUMBNUBS.

CG: I'M SAYING YOU ARE MY ASPIRIN.

TG: oh

CG: YEAH, TAKE THAT TO THE BANK AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR 20-KARAT ASS.

===

TG: heh

TG: well get this

TG: i will literally talk at you forever for free

TG: you got lifetime priority seating for the davealogues

TG: never gotta go to the drugstore again you can just get doped up on my dulcet tones for the rest of time

TG: take that and some of this

TG: im packin punches

CG: OW, FUCK! NO! MY MIGRAINES!

CG: SWEEPS OF VEINCLOTTING AND NERVEFRAYING DOWN THE FUCKING GAPER. BECAUSE OF YOU.

CG: YOU ASSHOLE, THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.

CG: AND YOU'RE LAUGHING.

TG: chuckle up it only gets worse from here

===

CG: BE HONEST WITH ME. DID FONDLING MY SHIRT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET EVEN DO ANYTHING?

TG: barely but yknow sometimes you just gotta deal the cards youre given

TG: ill just be astigmatic for a while its cool

CG: PFF… OKAY MAN.

[andypantsx3]

LOADS OF FUN : TODOROKI x READER

SUMMARY: After moving into your first apartment together, Shouto seems more amorous than ever. You're not sure why—but when he comes home to you doing a load of laundry, more than your clothes are about to get tumbled. TAGS/WARNINGS: nsft (18+ only, minors please dni!), pro hero au, gn + afab reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional sex, table sex, cunnilingus, the shouto domesticity kink agenda goes absolutely crazy in this one lol (2.8k) NOTES: This piece is part of my pretty boy summer Shouto x Reader collab! Please go check out the other incredible fics people have written over the course of the summer; you will absolutely die over how good they are. This fic was also made possible through donations to the Fics for Gaza project. I cannot thank everyone who donated to one of the charities enough, as well as those who organized, reblogged, discussed, and got the word out. Lastly, I am so grateful for your immeasurable patience with me as I take time between fics to manage my workload, I hope I'm not too out of practice here lol. In summary: thank you, thank you, a million times thank you.

The sound of the door opening was hidden in the thump and glug of the washing machine starting its spin cycle.

Halfway across the house, you were oblivious—you had the clean laundry spread out on the kitchen table, hunting through the pile trying to match one of Shouto’s socks to another that seemed to have vanished into that mysterious void which opens somewhere between the laundry basket and the dryer. One of his shirts was half-folded over your shoulder, abandoned in favor of the sock search.

The rest of your things were still mostly tangled together on the table, warm and fresh and cottony, the few shirts you’d already folded sagging off the kitchen chairs.

It still gave you a little thrill—even several weeks after you’d moved in together—to see Shouto’s things twined up with yours—his enormous socks dwarfing yours, your sweaters clinging to the occasional piece of his hero suit that hadn’t seen enough action to need his agency’s industrial cleaners.

It all added to your sense of satisfaction with your afternoon—a frosty weekend day you’d spent cozy indoors, moving slowly and leisurely through some chores. A pot of soup simmered on the stove, and your favorite playlist worked itself through in lazy loops. Shouto was due off his rotation soon, and you hummed contentedly to yourself, entertaining pleased little fantasies of curling up with him for the rest of the weekend.

Which of course is when something moved in the corner of your eye. Your hum sawed up into a strangled screech, and you whipped around, flailing. Shouto’s sock launched itself full force at the intruder before you even registered you’d thrown it. In your shock, your leg caught against the table and you went stumbling—

—right into a pair of warm hands that caught you about the waist.

Your hands were on the man’s shoulders to push him off before you realized you recognized the touch—and that you’d caught sight of a distinct mop of scarlet and white hair as you’d whipped around.

“Shouto! Again?” you scolded reflexively, even as your heartbeat stuttered out of its wild kick into high gear. You tipped your head back to stare your boyfriend in the face, shoulders slumping in relief, letting him take some of your weight.

Shouto peered down at you, that tiny scrunch between his brows that indicated concern. “Are you alright, love?”

Your heartbeat pounded thunderously in your chest. “I’m—fine. But my god we need to get you a bell. I almost peed.”

Shouto’s mouth shifted minutely into something that might not have registered in anyone else’s face but was most definitely a regretful downturn on his. He looked even more unfairly beautiful than when he’d left you this morning—a little flushed and windswept from the unseasonable cold, that full mouth pink and pretty.

Your mind flicked momentarily off and back on like a circuit breaker, the way it always did when you had to process Shouto.

You’d understood he was once-in-a-generation levels of beautiful before you’d even met him, his face staring up at you from the glossy pages of various tabloids over the years. But in person, even after years of knowing him and several more dating him, Shouto’s appearance still managed to cross all the wires in a person’s brain. His features were an incomprehensible blend of aloof and elegant, sensual and warm—like a cold masterpiece of a marble sculpture had suddenly found himself with a consciousness and human desires and miles of warm skin.

“I did not mean to startle you,” he said, his voice low and warm. He sounded sincerely regretful.

You knew he hadn’t meant to—you’d long suspected his silent tread was habitually ingrained in him from years of hero work. And, in your most private and ungenerous thoughts, you suspected from years of making himself unobtrusive in his father’s home. The thought sat sour in your mouth, like a slice of pickled lemon.

You resisted making an equally sour face, shoving the thought away to make space for the reflexive flush of pleasure seeing Shouto always brought you.

“Welcome home, Sho,” you said instead, smiling up at him. Shouto’s hands moved on your waist, sliding gently beneath the hem of your tee-shirt to rest on the skin there.

He was still in his hero uniform, and as usual you felt a little goofy in comparison, in nothing but a tee and a well-loved pair of fraying sweatpants, which were this afternoon decorated with little flecks of soup from a brush with the pot.

But Shouto’s eyes were warm where they rested on you, and that perfect mouth crept back into a contented set. His long fingers smoothed over your skin as he watched you, thumb brushing your hip. He did not look like he found you at all goofy.

In fact, as his eyes dropped down to your ankles, slowly dragging back up to your face, you rather thought he looked a little appreciative. He even took a rather ungentlemanly step back, still holding you, to better take in the whole picture. His eyes wandered over the swell of your hip, the lines of the shirt against your chest, before darting to his own shirt, still folded over your shoulder.

His fingers flexed tellingly on your waist, and those heterochromatic eyes were both a little bit darker as they flicked back to yours.

His obvious regard made you feel warm. You shifted on your feet, shuffling.

“I was just—doing laundry,” you said for something to say, your mouth feeling kind of dry. Something about him always made you feel sort of shy and light-headed, even after all this time together. “And I made soup. I was thinking we could eat on the couch and watch one of those horrendous old All Might films?”

Shouto’s eyes darted to the stove, then beside you to the pile of your laundry, lingering for a long minute. His long lashes dipped, almost fluttering as his gaze traced over the tangle of your things together. His eyes flicked back to you. He was still for just a moment, watching you assessingly.

And then all of a sudden the world spun in front of your eyes. The hands at your waist lifted you clean off your feet, and you let out a startled “oof!” as you found yourself laid out in the pile of laundry on the table, sheets and sweaters bunching beneath you.

Shouto moved over you, stepping between your spread thighs, right at the edge of the table.

“You have no idea,” he intoned in a deep, delicious tone that went right down your spine, “what it is to come home to you like this.”

You wondered at that, feeling a strange combination of confusion and flattery, when Shouto’s mouth descended onto yours. His mouth was soft and sweet and insistent and absolutely perfect. The table groaned as he laid some of his weight out over you, pinning you into the laundry as he kissed you.

Your fingers clutched at him immediately, curling in his silky-soft hair, cupping his face to yours. One of Shouto’s own hands shifted to your thigh, holding you against him as he pressed himself harder into you.

You heard yourself making little gasps of appreciation as Shouto’s mouth moved down to your neck, laving hot kisses down your throat. You reveled in the feeling of him over you, broad and strong, his shoulders blocking the glow of the overhead light, casting shadows over you.

He’d been a lot like this lately, ever since you’d moved in together. He’d been adequately amorous before, of course, and blessed with a pro hero’s strength and unflagging stamina. But a few weeks after you’d moved in together you’d actually decided you needed to reactivate your gym membership given the amount of incredibly athletic sex you were suddenly having over almost every surface in the house.

One of the only spots yet to be touched was the table though, which Shouto seemed determined to rectify at this very moment.

He pulled back from you, his mouth flush from your kisses, looking a little entranced as he stepped out from between your thighs. You made a little noise at the loss of weight and heat over you, but Shouto caught the fabric of your sweatpants, gently but determinedly tugging them off of you. Your underwear was tossed right over one broad shoulder as Shouto went to his knees, and then his mouth was right back on you.

A wave of wild heat licked up your stomach at the noise of appreciation he made before sealing his mouth over you, strong fingers clutching your thighs to keep them apart.

“Oh my god!” you said, pleasure zinging right up your spine with the first lave of his tongue over you. “Shouto!”

Shouto let out a deep, pleased hum, two long fingers sinking into you embarrassingly easily as he worked your clit with his mouth. Your back arched and you could feel your clothing shift with you, Shouto’s shirt balling up under your shoulder blade, still half-draped over your shoulder.

“Oh, oh!” you heard yourself saying as your fingers twisted in the clothing, shuddering with every lick and suck of Shouto’s perfect, amazing, talented mouth.

He worked you with the expertise of long, dedicated practice—everything about him calculated to drive you insane. One moment he was excruciatingly soft, mouth slack and the touch of his tongue as fleeting and light as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. Then the next he was sucking relentlessly, teasing firmly with the tip of his tongue as his fingers played with you.

Your first climax hit you mortifyingly quickly, and Shouto seemed to know it before you did. His grip tightened on you, holding you down as you bucked against his mouth. Shouto looked more than a little smug as he got to his feet again, unbelting himself and laying back out over you.

He kissed you some more, the taste of yourself always a sort of shock to your system. But Shouto never seemed to mind, and if anything only seemed hungrier for you, mouth pulling at yours like he meant to devour you.

You felt the touch of his hand between your thighs as he lined himself up, then sank into you easily, groaning appreciatively like he’d just sunk into a hot bath. He bit carefully at your neck, one large hand pressing your stomach down to keep you pinned against the edge of the table where he wanted you.

“I always want to come home to you like this,” he intoned into the skin of your neck, his mouth sucking dizzying patterns into your skin. “Always.”

You could barely think past the slide of him inside you, thick and full and blissfully exquisite. He really was the most perfect man on earth, and he always felt like it too.

You barely managed to blink your eyes open to watch him, trying to catch his meaning in his face. Shouto watched you back, those blue and grey pinned on you like he couldn’t bear to look away from you as he moved inside you.

“You—” you panted out, trying to cling to the thoughts threatening to wiggle out of your grip. “What do you—? Of course you’ll always come home to me.”

Shouto bucked into you harder, the slap of his hip against the bottom of your thigh echoing loudly over the burble of soup on the stove. His eyelashes fluttered, mouth softening, and a realization struck you almost dizzy.

Oh, he really liked that.

You suppressed a wave of giddiness, charmed and helplessly pleased that he seemed to like the idea so much. Was that why he’d been so especially ardent this past month? Was it really because you’d moved in together?

Shouto’s arm hooked under one of your legs, drawing it up firmly over his shoulder so he could press even further inside of you. He looked so good like that that you nearly lost the thread of your thoughts, especially when his next thrust felt like that. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head.

“Ah!” escaped you. “Fuck, Shouto. Like that, please!”

Shouto’s thumb pressed down on your still-sensitive clit and he had to dig the fingers of his other hand into the flesh of your leg to keep you from bucking him right out of you with the way you squirmed. Sweet fucking gods he was unreal.

Shouto fucked you harder, the sound of your skin slapping together obscene in the quiet of the kitchen.

You tried again, struggling to watch his reaction with the way you wanted to throw your head back and babble nonsense instead.

“You’ll always come home to me,” you repeated, gratified when Shouto’s grip on you tightened, a soft sound escaping him. “You want me right here for you?”

“Ah—yes, love,” Shouto panted, staring down at you again. He looked like he knew what you were doing but didn’t care. “Yes,” he hissed.

“Just like this?” you prompted, trying not to slur the edges of your speech when he gave another particularly mind-bending thrust of his hips. His chest rose and fell heavily and he looked a little wild-eyed, gazing down at you.

“Like this, for me,” he said. “In my home, in our home—”

You could hear the table squeal and groan with the force of his next thrust, and then you had to grip the sides of it to steady yourself as he fucked you, looking blissful. Your nails scrabbled at the edges of the table, caught in between a million sensations—the glorious fullness of Shouto inside you, the gentle grind of his thumb against your clit, the way he looked all flushed and beautiful and panting and wanting—

You squeezed your eyes shut, too overcome with the sight of him to look at him anymore, but it was no use. Your entire body trembled as you came, and Shouto let out a low swear at the way you clenched up around him, hunching over you and pressing himself so impossibly hard against you as he came too.

He slumped down against you, weighing you into the soft-smelling cotton of the laundry you were now definitely going to have to rewash. You could feel his chest rise and fall as he panted, his breath tickling the skin under your ear. He left an unbearably soft, sweet kiss just under the lobe, at odds with the near-wild way he’d just been fucking you.

You warmed, petting through his hair with a helpless affection.

“Well now I know what time I should always do our laundry,” you said.

Shouto huffed into your neck, but you could feel a tiny smile curve his mouth.

“It is not just that,” he said, but did not elaborate for some minutes until you elbowed him gently. He peeled himself off of you just enough to look down into your face. “It is the thought of our life together. Our clothes piled together. You in the home we chose and we made…” he said, trailing off.

But you thought you got the sentiment. It was about how easy it was, how uncomplicated. A safe place to come home to, no expectations, just soup and a pile of sweet-smelling laundry and someone happy to see you. It was something far away from what he'd grown up thinking a home was, possibly something he’d thought he’d never have—something you were determined to make him realize now that he always would.

You let your fingers pull through his hair again, smiling up at him. “I am going to have to do our laundry again, though,” you teased. “In case that interests you.”

And despite what he’d just said, Shouto did in fact look a little too interested. You watched his mismatched gaze trail over to the closet that opened onto the washer and dryer. A contemplative look snuck across his handsome face, carefully curling the corner of that plush mouth.

“There is another place we have not yet broken in,” he said slowly, voice dipping low. He looked down at you with an earnest expression completely in contrast to what he was suggesting.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and that was all the permission he needed to pull you up, gathering you up in his arms and layering a fat handful of laundry on top of you. His belt buckle rattled loosely beneath you where he'd barely done it up in his haste, and you laughed harder when he turned off the stove as you passed it.

Though it turned out to be a needed precaution—as neither of you found yourselves free to sit down to dinner for several hours yet.

[strang3lov3]

Clean

Joel makes a mess on you, then keeps you in the bathtub until the water goes cold. (3k)

Tags - dark!joel, one shot, smut, fingering, come shot, manspreading, masturbation, overstimulation, forced orgasms, dubconnnnnn, daddy kink, innocence kink, inexperienced reader, biiiig girthy yet unspecified age gap, weird feelings and some good ol' fashioned shame, hitting, Joel is fatherly in a hot and disgusting way, calls himself 'your old man', gratuitous use of the nickname 'kiddo'. Say the affirmation with me: The ickier it is, the harder I nut.#bushnation, MORE DEPECHE MODE REFERENCES. TRY AND STOP ME. Like car sex, I write bathtub sex uniquely in that I’m not bound by bullshit ass physics or logic so yes, both people fit in the tub and everything is fine. Reader is bathed by Joel, her hair is washed and finger-combed by him too, but length and texture are not described. This was a decroded fic for me to make i can't lie Fic help - @endlessthxxghts, thank you for always seeing my disgusting visions and giving me your eyeballs A/N - thank you for all the birthday wishes, dear friends in my phone! I celebrated with you all last year when I was writing Mall Rats and it’s special that a lot of you are still with me today, but some I have new friends too ❤️ I love you. Having readers like you in my corner all this time has been beyond special and so rewarding and I hope you know I mean it when I say that I love you.

You’re washing the dishes tonight, your least favorite of the chores Joel makes you do. You prefer doing laundry or plucking the weeds with him, because he lets you collect flowers and put them in vases. He even taught you how to press them between heavy books, and how to frame them nicely. 

Joel calls your name from upstairs. You quickly wash and dry your hands, then scurry up the steps. His door is closed almost all of the way, just a small sliver of light peeks from his room into the dark hallway. “Joel?”

“In here, sweetheart. Need ya for somethin’.” 

You push open the door the rest of the way, and Joel’s naked and sitting upright on the edge of his bed, cock in hand with his bare thighs spread wide. He’s grunting as he squeezes the base, the tip all flushed and swollen. “C’mere. Switch me spots.” 

You don’t yet obey his order. You’ve seen Joel’s cock before, seen him masturbate before, too. Despite that, it still makes you feel nervous to see him and be with him like this. It gives you that icky feeling in your gut and makes you breathe funny. 

“C’mon. You know it ain’t gonna bite ya, kiddo.” Joel stands up  and pats the spot on the bed. “Sit,” he says, his tone sharper than before. “Need somethin’ pretty to come on.”

 Joel doesn’t like repeating himself. You won’t make him ask a third time. 

You sit on the bed, the covers warmed and slightly damp by Joel’s body heat don’t comfort you. He stands in front of you, rock-hard cock bouncing in his loose grip. “Why don’t you give me a hand this time,” he says, reaching for your wrist. He pulls it up to waist level, then wraps your palm around his member, closing your fingers tightly. “Ohhh, fuck,” Joel groans from deep in his chest. Loudly, he breathes in and out through his nose as he twists your hand up and down his shaft. “Jus’ like this. That’s a good girl.” 

This is, however, the first time you’ve ever felt his cock. All of your firsts with Joel have never gone the way you thought they would. The first time he saw you naked, touched you, or that you saw him - it was all surreal and rather abrupt. Joel tells you things like this are always a little new and funny at first. 

His cock feels heavy in your palm. You think about the things you like about it - the warmth, all of his veins and ridges, how smooth and soft the head is. But it’s a little sticky, too, which is unexpected to you. 

“Alright, alright. S’enough,” Joel says, pulling your hand away. “Lift up your shirt.”

You lift your shirt, pushing it up your torso until it’s bunched just beneath your breasts. “Nuh-uh. Like this,” Joel murmurs, pushing the garment up above your chest, exposing yourself entirely to him. He rubs his thumb in circles over both of your nipples so that they pebble under his touch, then gropes and squeezes your flesh. “Lie back,” Joel says, pushing you down on the bed. “Attagirl.”

You watch as Joel pumps his cock above you, the end of his fist slapping against his softened belly repeatedly. He breathes heavily, and his dark eyes are wild like an animal as his gaze is fixed on your naked form. Joel breathes quicker as he approaches his release, grunting a slew of swears he doesn’t allow you to say. “Fuck, goddamn. Oh, goddamn,” he hisses as ropes of his hot come spurt onto your body. He covers you like a canvas; his favorite painting, and for his eyes only. 

Joel collects a bit of his spend up with his first two fingers. “Give it a taste,” he says. “Want you to try it.”

You open your mouth, and Joel pushes his calloused digits inside, painting your tongue with his come. “Suck,” he says, and you do. You furrow your brows at the salty, bitter flavor, how it tastes dissimilar from its scent. “Don’t like it?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so.”

Joel chuckles, cupping your jaw and rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. “S’okay. Y’don’t have to.” Joel yawns then, patting your cheek gently with his weathered hand. “C’mon, kiddo. Bath time. Daddy made a mess a’ ya, didn’t he?”

Joel walks you to the bathroom with him, holding your hand the whole time. He puts the little rubber stopper in the drain of the bathtub, then turns the water on. “Warmer, pl-”

“Don’t need a reminder, sweetheart. Know you like it hot. Daddy won’t let you freeze.”

“And bubbles.”

“I know, baby girl. I won’t forget your bubbles.”

As the bathtub fills, Joel opens the oak cabinet under the sink and pulls out the old bottle of bubble bath, the one he’s been refilling just for you. He pours a capful under the water, bubbles immediately building. It smells mostly of nothing, but a bit of that original bubblegum scent remains. Your image reflected in the mirror begins to blur as steam fills the bathroom, and when the tub is full, Joel shuts off the water. He helps you undress and then gets in the tub first, carefully lowering himself until he’s sat with his back against the wall. “Jesus, s’hot. Gonna turn us both into soup,” Joel laughs. You smile shyly. 

 He spreads his legs, then outstretches his arm to you. “C’mon. Hop in.” You take Joel’s hand, squeezing it while wobbling a little on your one foot as you step into the bath. “I gotcha, kiddo,” he says. 

The water is warm on your feet, nearly burning you but you enjoy the tingle. Joel helps you down, lowering you until you’re submerged in the water, your back against his warm chest, his thick package pressing against your ass. 

Joel fills an old, plastic measuring cup with the soapy bath water and brings a hand to your chin, tilting your head back so he can rinse your hair. The hot water feels soothing on your scalp, and Joel repeats the action until your hair is soaked all the way through and dripping down your back. 

You giggle at the noise the bottle of shampoo makes when Joel squirts a bit into his hand. He lathers it between his palms, then scrubs your scalp. “Eyes closed, kiddo. Don’t wanna hurt ya,” he whispers. 

Your eyes flutter shut as Joel works the soap into your hair, scrubbing your scalp all over. He alternates between scratching you gently with his dull nails, to massaging you with the tips of his fingers. He uses his thumbs to rub the base of your skull in circles, the other four fingers of each hand drawing lines up and down and all over. Once Joel’s built a thick lather, he uses the same plastic cup to rinse out the shampoo.  

He conditions your hair next, working the cream into the strands. He uses his fingers to loosely detangle, “Ow, daddy,” you complain as he tugs on a knot. 

“I know, I know. M’sorry, baby girl.” Joel presses a kiss to your forehead. “Was an’ accident. M’tryin’ to be gentle.” He rinses out the conditioner next, “Grab me that bar of soap, will ya?” he asks. 

“Mhm.” You lean forward and reach for the orangish, rectangular bar of soap in front of you on the shower niche, then grab it and hold it over your shoulder. 

Joel takes the soap, “Thank ya kindly, darlin’.”  He dips it in the soapy bathwater before lathering it between his palms that are already beginning to prune. Gently, he pushes you forward to scrub your back and your neck, then pulls you right back into himself. “Gimme an arm,” he says, a slight rasp in his voice. You raise your arm for him and he washes you with the lather, “An’ the other,” Joel adds, now washing your other arm, massaging you with his strong hands. “Here-” Joel taps your shoulder with the soap. “Your daddy’s gettin’ old,” he grumbles. “Can’t bend like he used to. Wash your legs f’me, sweetheart.” 

“Okay,” you murmur, taking the soap back from him. You lather the soap just like Joel did, then wash your legs one at a time, bending them at the knees. When done, Joel reaches over you to take the soap back. He pulls you back against his soft middle and puts his soapy hands on your torso, sliding them up and down your skin, washing off his now dried spend. He groans quietly as he washes your breasts, kneading the flesh there and circling your nipples with his slippery fingers. You feel his cock twitch against you. 

Joel washes down, down your stomach. “Spread ‘em,” he says, and you part your legs wider. Your stomach jumps when his hands rub past your pubic hair and he washes your folds, that soft, private place between your thighs. You whimper when his thumb catches your clit. 

“That feel nice, kiddo?”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you search for an answer. 

“I-”

“You can tell your old man. I know it does,” Joel coos, rubbing his thumb left and right over your clit. You lean your head back and turn your head to the side, burying yourself in his bicep as you whine. “You don’t take much at all, do ya, sweetheart?”

Joel’s made you come before. It’s one of the first things he did when he brought you home, actually. But you amaze him every time, how quickly and easily you fall apart on his fingertips. He thinks about tasting you for the first time, how sweet you’ll be on his tongue. Or his cock, down your throat or between your thighs and splitting you in two. God, you’ve so much to learn, and Joel gets to walk you through it all. His favorite innocence. 

Joel adjusts you both so that you’re sitting more upright and he can reach around you with both hands. “Rest on me,” he says, pressing the side of your head against his so that his scruff is tickling you, but not scratching you. It’s too long for that.

 Joel peers over your shoulder to watch what he’s doing, and to watch how you react. Your soft tummy rising and falling with big breaths, thighs twitching. Joel circles your clit with his middle and ring fingers, patiently working you up. “How’s that feelin’?” he asks, “Can you tell daddy?”

“Mm,” you hum, “Yeah…”

Joel chuckles, dragging the tip of his aquiline nose along the side of your face. “Use your words, baby girl,” he instructs. “Good girls use their words, hm?”

“Feels g- feels good,” you whimper, voice breaking as Joel works you. He rubs your clit faster now, and you’re rocking against his palm, splashing the water a little. 

Joel brings his other hand to your core and lines two fingers up with your entrance, slowly pushing in while he massages your clit. You wince in pain, squeezing his bicep as he pushes them in further. 

Joel hums in sympathy. Being in the bath means you’re not a slick, slippery mess like usual. “Know it hurts, kiddo, but you gotta get used to it.” Joel’s fingers are all the way inside you now, and he pulls them back out. “You’ll get used to it,” he drawls, now pumping those fingers in and out of you, slowly. “You’re bein’ so brave for me, baby girl.” 

The ache of Joel’s fingers stretching you out dissipates eventually, and he changes the action - instead of drawing his fingers in and out of your cunt, he curls them repeatedly inside of you - Joel knows you love when he does this to you. 

You moan freely, relishing in the pleasure. Joel’s right, he’s always right. You’re used to him now, and he feels so good. Swirling his fingers around your clit, stroking that sweet spot inside you with the other hand - it takes no more than five minutes until your breathing turns ragged and you feel that hot, sticky feeling in your gut, the one that feels both bad and good all at the same time. 

“Ask for it,” Joel mumbles, reminding you of your manners as he senses how close you are. “Be polite.”

“Please,” you say, “Can I come?”

“‘Course you can, sweetheart. Of course.”

The orgasm washes over you quickly. You come with a symphony of breathy moans, saccharine in nature. Joel’s never heard anything like it, and he’s grateful he has enough of his hearing left to be able to. 

With his weathered, wrinkled fingers, Joel fucks you through your climax until the last of it courses through you. You come down, but Joel doesn’t stop touching you. 

Maybe he thinks it’s not yet over. Joel keeps doing those same tight circles on your clit, and you start to squirm. “Joel–” you wrap your hands around his forearm and attempt to move him, but his strength is far too great for your efforts to mean anything at all.  

“Sit still. You’re givin’ me another one.” 

Joel keeps your back pinned tightly against his hairy chest, your legs spread wide with his hand in between them, patiently swirling his middle and ring fingers around your swollen and over-sensitive clit. Your hips are starting to ache and the sensation of Joel pleasuring you has turned uncomfortable, downright painful. 

“I wanna be done, Joel. I can’t do another one,” you whimper, voice shaking as tears well up in your eyes. There’s nowhere to run, and you know you just have to take it. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he whispers soothingly, his ministrations on your pussy unfaltering. Joel’s holding you back. You’re not supposed to tell him no. “Know you can.”

His words serve more to frustrate you than encourage you. “I. Can’t,” you huff as you try to pull away from him and close your legs shut in the now lukewarm and soapy water, but Joel keeps you in position in his vice grip. 

“Knock it off,” he growls. Joel has to hide his amusement. You’re quick to anger, just like he is. Just like your daddy. “Jus’ relax.”

You’re close, and whether you realize it or not, Joel does. Your twitching legs, the way you’re breathing. Release is right around the corner if you’d just calm yourself down. Poor thing. You always did struggle with regulating yourself.

“Get - I told you-“ you interrupt yourself to groan, “You’re not listening to me, daddy. I said I c-can’t fucking—” you don’t finish the sentence and instead seethe in frustration, jerking and splashing bath water onto the floor. “F-”

Joel slaps your cheek, hard. “Easy,” he scolds, “I didn’t raise you to speak to me like that.” Joel his nose against the side of your head and bites your ear, the way a dog does with a pup. A warning. “An’ I don’t have to listen to you. You listen to me,” he adds. “Adjust the fuckin’ attitude and try it again before you piss me off.”

Your voice cracks as you whimper Joel’s name, a sob then escaping your chest. Your cheek stings and tingles, like you never stopped feeling the impact of Joel’s hand meeting your skin. 

“Don’t start cryin’, just breathe. Breathe. Go slow,” Joel instructs, pleased when you inhale steadily. On your exhale, Joel whispers, “You need me to talk you through it?”

You nod against him, sniffling. “Then I’ll talk you through it. Focus on my voice, focus right here, kiddo,” he tells you. “Relax, just a minute. Calm yourself.”

You rest against Joel, and he pauses his ministrations on your clit. “I can’t do it again, Joel,” you plead. “I don’t think I can.” 

“I know what you think. It don’t matter, ‘cause it ain’t up to you, sweetheart. We’re tryin’ it again.” 

Joel restarts, circling and massaging your clit with that same pressure from before. And just like before, it’s uncomfortable. It hurts, and you don’t like it. 

“Lean into it, sweetheart. Let it ride.” 

Frustrated, you shake your head. “Daddy–”

“You need to let it happen. Got all night, sweetheart. Water’s gettin’ cold.” 

“Joel.” Your voice cracks.

Joel ignores you. He pumps his fingers, focusing specifically on your g-spot as he knows how sensitive you are there. Your protests begin to quiet, replaced by soft noises of pleasure. “There it is,” Joel purrs. “Make those pretty noises for me. You’re doin’ good.” 

Pleasure begins to build, just like Joel said it would. It almost makes you mad, mad that he’s right. Always right. Mad that Joel knows your body like the back of his hand, better than you do. The stubborn part of you wants to stave off release, but a bigger part of you doesn’t wanna fight Joel on this. You don’t like to fight with him anyway. You always lose. So, you allow yourself to bask in the pleasure Joel knew you’d feel.

“You gonna come one more time? You gonna come on daddy’s fingers?”

“Yeah,” you nod. Your eyes squeeze shut as the feeling builds, almost exponentially. Your gasps and moans halt and there it is - Joel’s pulled another orgasm from your body. More powerful than before, the feeling washes over you like the tide, waves of warmth and electricity flowing over your body with each movement of Joel’s fingers. “Yeah, attagirl,” he breathes. “Manners, sweetheart. What do you say?” 

“Thank you,” you whisper, out of breath. 

Joel rinses you with the water as you come down from your second orgasm of the evening. He taps you twice on the hip, “Up,” he says, and you stand up on shaky legs. 

Joel reaches for an old, floral-patterned towel and dries himself off first, then wraps it around his waist, thick belly bulging over the edge of the fabric. He grabs another towel for you next, drying your legs and arms one at a time before wrapping the towel snugly around your shoulders. 

“You finish those dishes?” Joel asks, pulling the drain stopper out of the tub. 

“Not all of them,” you answer. “I’m sorry.” 

“Nah, don’t you worry ‘bout it. I’ll do the rest, hm?” 

You wear a small smile, “Okay.”

“An’ I was thinkin’ that I could make us popcorn, like you like. Put on a movie. One of those girly ones I picked out for you, huh?”

Your smile grows. “Yeah,” you answer. 

Joel smiles too. “Good. Let’s get you dressed, then.” 

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