#11 pounds in just barely a week what the fuck

[ruifictiveapproved]

wwwwwwhat the fuck

[badbtssmut]

no.11

Taehyung free using his girlfriend's bestie in a 1 week vacation even infront of her, which is a gift by his gf and her bestie for his birthday.

You always thought Taehyung was attractive. You were jealous when your friend introduced him, as you couldn’t believe she snagged him up. But, you would never share those feelings. It was inappropriate.

But then one day, when both you and Taehyung were bit tipsy, you kissed at a party. You felt guilty. Ashamed. So you left to go home and never thought anything of it. It was one kiss, and it meant nothing. You even called Ara to confess and to your shock, she was ok with it, simply commenting that Tae had told her and that it was no big deal.

“Ya know, Tae’s birthday is soon, how about we do something special?” Your friend, Ara, suggested to make taehyung’s birthday special by giving him a sexcation, and she wanted your help in making that happen.

—

It was really happening.

As soon as the night fell, you went up to the bedroom, followed shortly after by taehyung. The door had barely closed behind him before he had pressed his lips against yours. It was like he had been waiting for this moment for a very long time. You kissed back, of course, running your hands up and down his chest. His shirt came off and his body was soon exposed. Soon, both of you were naked and in the bed, Taehyung on top of you.

Ara had walked in by now, simply turning on the TV, and laid down in the bed right next to yours, placing a bowl of snacks on the nightstand, completely unfazed by the fact that the man she loved was currently kissing another woman.

He entered you, slowly and softly. His movements gentle. You let out a moan, but it was soon muffled by his mouth as he kissed you once more.

“Mm, your cock feels so good…” You whispered against his lips.

“I bet it does, you are so wet for me already.” Taehyung whispered back, moving in and out of you in a slow rhythm.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to just enjoy the moment. You felt like you were on cloud 9, the sensation of him inside of you, the sound of him grunting in your ear... and the fact that Ara was literally watching you two do it, turned you on even more.

The whole experience was unlike anything else you had ever felt before. It was so erotic, so wrong and yet so exciting.

After a few minutes of this slow rhythm, he picked up the pace, his movements becoming harder and faster.

“Mm…” You spread your legs further. “Just like that… keep going just like that…” You squeezed your eyes shut, holding on to the sheets tightly.

Fuck, is this what your friend was feeling? Is this what it felt like to get fucked by such a hot guy?

Taehyung pulled out and flipped you around so you were on your knees.

You gasped, feeling him enter you from behind. You didn't even know why, but the idea of getting fucked like this in front of your friend was just making it all the more arousing.

He held on to your hips, and began pounding into you. Your pussy was now stretched wide, and the feeling of his throbbing cock slamming in and out was overwhelming.

"Oh, Tae... oh!" You buried your head into the pillow, each thrust bringing you closer.

His hips rocked forward with each thrust, and he grunted in pleasure. "Good girl, take my cock." You heard him praise you.

Taehyung gripped your hips tighter and continued to thrust. You were so tight around him, and you could feel every inch of him inside of you.

“Oh fuck!” You whimpered, overcome by pleasure. This was so good, you didn’t want it to end. You bounced your body back and forth to match his thrusts, earning pleasurable moans from him.

You were on the brink of climax. You tried to hold back, but it was too much. The sight of your friend watching you from the side, the feeling of his cock in your pussy, and the sound of his grunts were all too much. And just like that, you came. A wave of pleasure washed over you. You felt so relieved, yet also exhausted. You collapsed onto the bed, feeling the mattress creak beneath your weight.

Taehyung gave one last thrust, burying himself deep inside of you, before he groaned and filled you up with his cum. He then pulled out and rolled onto the bed next to you. You looked over at him, your breathing still heavy, and he gave you a sweet smile.

You were sad about it ending, but you knew you had six more days left.

[avonne-writes]

happy b-day! 🍰

from the prompts: [ TUG ] receiver, trying to get ready for the day, is pulled back into bed by sender

Thank you, dear anon! 💕 Have some silly HS AU fluff. Set in the summer between Year 10 and 11, so they’re 16. Harding and Georgia have just started seriously dating.

~

Gale wakes up to the rumble of a motorcycle outside the window. Half-asleep, it takes his brain a moment to register the sensations around him. The stuffy air of Bucky’s room, hot and humid from the late morning sunshine that pushes the summer heat inside despite the drawn blinds. The warmth of an arm around his waist, sweat gathering where skin meets skin. His bare legs, tangled with Bucky’s, the ticklish feeling of hair catching on hair. Bucky’s peaceful breathing against his neck, where Gale knows a giant hickey blooms. They were going to steal a bit of make-up from Georgia to cover it up, but he doesn’t think they will get a chance now.

Gale’s eyes snap open in horror. She came home early!

“Fuck!” He swears and scrambles to get up. At the last moment, he remembers his nakedness, and feels the rush of blood to his cheeks at the realization. He’s not wearing anything. Not. A single. Thing. And neither does Bucky. This was the first time that they actually slept like this, and of course, of course this is the one time when she comes home before she said she would. Gale allows himself a moment to squeeze his eyes shut and purse his lips in that dreadful feeling of dismay that follows. He should’ve known!

Cursing in panic in his mind, he looks around the room. He’s too self-conscious to just stand up and search for his underwear like this, so he pulls the thin summer blanket around his waist as a cover. But he’s too slow - all the jostling around woke Bucky up too and, predictably, the first thing he does is wrapping his long arms around Gale’s middle and pulling him back down.

The way Gale lands on his back with his hair splayed on the pillow feels like defeat.

“Good morning, baby.” Bucky purrs, blinking at him lazily, unperturbed by the wide-eyed look Gale shoots him.

“Your mom’s home.”

“So?” Bucky rubs their noses together. “Not like she’s gonna come in here. Let’s cuddle for a few more minutes.” His voice ends on a whine.

“She’s so gonna come in.” Gale hisses at him, moving to stand up again, but Bucky holds him tighter in his embrace and starts kissing his cheek and neck. The way it makes Gale shiver and go boneless when those lips touch the hickey is super embarrassing, but he can’t help it. It’s so thrilling, so new, and his limbs seem to melt from the fluttering kisses, entirely out of his control. He lays his palm on Bucky’s biceps and gets lost in it for a moment, until he hears the engine shut off, then a man’s laugh from outside.

His blood runs cold in fear.

“Is that the guy?” He whispers as if Georgia’s boyfriend was standing just outside the door. “Bucky, is that the guy?”

“Geez, Buck, relax.” Bucky rubs Gale’s chest over Gale’s frantically pounding heart. “He’s not scary at all.”

Not scary, not scary. What does Bucky know about that? Gale grouches pettily in his own head but doesn’t say anything out loud. He knows that Bucky hasn’t had a male figure in his life since middle school, and even then, it’s not like his dad was ever around enough to show him how quickly a friendly hand could turn into a weapon.

“I need to get dressed.”

Bucky lets him extricate himself from the embrace, but he makes no move to follow him, not even when Gale steals the blanket to look for his clothes. He just sprawls there on his stomach, pale ass on display, without a care in the world. Gale avoids looking at him altogether. The clothes he wore yesterday are too wrinkled to be presentable and not exactly fresh-smelling, so he opens Bucky’s closet and rummages around until he finds the stuff he left here over the past couple of weeks, washed clean and smelling like the floral detergent Georgia uses. He puts them on, feeling better already as they cover his bare skin. He goes to throw the blanket on Bucky, but he doesn’t account for Bucky’s long-ass arms and his habit of pouncing on Gale out of pure affection. Before he knows it, his arms are grabbed, and he’s yanked back down on the mattress.

Despite himself, Gale laughs as he and Bucky wrestle, and then they're kissing, just like that. Gale is so into it that he completely forgets about everything else the moment Bucky presses him down and licks between his parted lips. He cups Bucky’s face and strokes his cheeks with his thumbs as they make out, pushing his chin up to take more, to get him closer. It’s been so intense lately, even painful sometimes because nothing feels like enough, and Gale is burning up with it. The past month has been nothing short of an inferno. He didn’t realize that having sex would affect everything else too. He didn’t know.

Downstairs, the front door opens.

“John.” Gale breaks away from Bucky's mouth with a sticky sound and a gasp. He rarely calls Bucky by his first name because it feels too serious, but when they're like this, in each other's arms, something in him longs to connect to him like that. “What if he comes inside?”

Bucky combs his fingers through Gale's messy hair, catching on a few knots and making Gale wince by accident. “His name is Chick.”

“Chick?” Gale makes a face. “You can’t call him Chick.”

“Why not?” Bucky grins, cocky in a way that's entirely for Gale’s entertainment. “That’s his biker name.”

Gale snorts a laugh. Biker name. Right. He can tell that Bucky’s already hooked on the cool persona this guy displays, regardless of how much of it is true. Something protective flares to life in Gale's stomach at the thought. It makes him braver. He doesn’t want Bucky to get attached to some asshole replacement of his father and have his heart broken all over again. “What does your mom call him?”

Bucky lays his head on Gale’s chest and cuddles him again. “Neil.”

Gale knows he shouldn't stay like this. He should try to sort out the tangle of his hair and come up with a solution to hide the love bite before Georgia sits them down to give them the Talk. He shudders just thinking about it. He knows that Bucky already got it once, last year when Gale stayed the night for the first time. Bucky claims it was the most embarrassing moment of his life, and although there's tough competition for that title, Gale is inclined to believe it.

But the weight of Bucky's head and arm feels so comforting that he can’t help but close his eyes again, smiling at the ceiling in contentment. He pets at Bucky's hair and marvels at the shape of his curls under his palm.

The front door closes and, to Gale's relief, the motorbike roars to life again and rides away.

"Johnny, I’m home!" Georgia calls out downstairs. Normally, Bucky would already be there, nosing around in her bags to see if she bought any food, but not today.

Instead, he groans, ducks lower in bed and attempts to wriggle under Gale’s armpit, between his side and the bed. Gale shifts to get up again, but Bucky continues clinging to him, and they laugh and push at each other too loudly to hear the stairs creak.

Next thing they know, there's a knock on the door.

Gale jumps up as if burned and takes a few steps away from the bed, but there’s nowhere to run or hide. His hair is a mess, there are clothes strewn over the floor, even the fucking lube is on the bedside table, he realizes with utter, blinding panic. But there’s nothing he can do about it - the door handle moves, and all they have time for is for Gale to slap a hand over the side of his neck and Bucky to drape the blanket fully over himself. A split second later, Georgia takes a step inside the room.

The moment her soft brown eyes land on Gale, she lights up. "Oh, hi sweetheart, I didn’t know you stayed the night."

Gale's face is aflame. Frozen in place like an idiot, he probably looks even more awkward than he feels. "Um, yeah. Hi Georgia."

"Is your neck all right?" She asks in concern.

"Yeah, just a crick." He laughs, too breathy not to give away the lie, but it’s overshadowed by the cry that comes from Bucky at the same time.

"Mom, go away!"

"I'm going!" She raises her hands apologetically, but her lips are wobbling into a smile. "Just wanted to check on you, darling."

"I'm not five!" Bucky exclaims again, holding his head with both hands in mortification.

"All right, all right!" Georgia gives Gale a fondly amused look, then shuts the door and walks down the hall to her own bedroom.

Gale grabs a random piece of clothing from the floor and throws it at Bucky's back. "I told you."

Bucky groans into his pillow.

[reorientation]

okay nothing in this world has ever made me flood with need the way seeing my asks linked and tagged as 'respect anon' did. little update - ive been getting railed so often (11 times total now since mid november) that i have a bruised cervix. it hurts in such a delicious way, makes me hyperaware of what i am, almost feels reminiscent of cramps.

my original hookup ive now seen six times, and he wants to see me once a week minimum. the way he murmurs "good girl" so encouragingly to me, his strength, and the insanely erotic feeling of him breeding me, have all bewitched me. the texture of semen exploding into a wet cunt is so unique and im obsessed, its a different consistency from my own wetness, so i can always feel the exact moment hes fucking his sperm into my fertile body, even when i dont feel him throbbing through it (which i usually can).

other than him, ive fucked four other guys in the last month. each and every one of them came in me bare. i hoped a few times would sate me but if anything its fanning the flames. on my neediest day i had three guys come over one after another to fill me, the first was my original guy, and the other two were completely random, and they all treated me so perfectly honestly.

the third one in particular fulfilled my need to have a real man coax me into admitting my real name, he fucked me hard and fast and used his filthy tongue to slip into my subconscious mind and loosen my inhibitions until he got it out of me. then he used it over and over again while he fucked a baby into me, slapped my well-bred pussy till i begged him to stop, then held me so tightly. i felt so dazed and safe and feminine in his arms.

it feels so good to have a man respect me enough to give me what i really need, especially when im being brave enough to ask for something i was so afraid to even acknowledge about myself. and it especially feels good when he looks right into my eyes while pounding me and reminding me of the truth.

fuck sorry for multiple asks i literally just cannot stop thinking about being dubbed 'respect anon' its driving me crazy. i can feel my pulse everywhere, but it seems to pool in the places that make me a woman: my clit, my pussy lips, my aching dripping vagina, and my breasts. i can feel my pulse in my fucking nipples. and also usually my temples but thats off theme.

i cant get over how good it feels to be fucked. i never in a million years expected how endlessly perfect it would be, ive found partners that emanate joy together with me and its so much fun and so erotic. the original guy in particular, just takes so much joy in fixing me and in enjoying my cunt, i often end up watching the filthy reactions on his face as he watches my pussy clench around him. he watches us join together as one, my cunt singing with pleasure, i always ask him if theres anything else i can do for him and he almost always says "lay back and take it." like, yes sir!

once i was riding him and his hands were clenching my hips tight, i love riding because it makes my breasts bounce and heave so deliciously. he was staring at them, i was moaning like a bitch in heat feeling him stretch me out in an angle we dont normally do, and suddenly he looked me in the eye and said "you have a womans body." swear if id been on my back i would have orgasmed right then and there. he sometimes goes back and forth in what gendered terms he uses and it keeps my mind spinning with confusion and desperation. we are both bi and im pretty sure our current dynamic is heaven for us both.

there are so many filthy details i want to share with you. feels like i could babble all day about the things that have happened, but it all boils down to this: im a woman, obsessed with taking cock, finally letting herself enjoy some wonderful company, and it wont be long until im the sluttiest pregnant girl grindr has ever seen, hahahah.

respect anon back with one last thought because ive been obsessively rereading your two responses to me so far. when i begged him to refeminize me, "it doesn't even sound like he was surprised." nope! in fact he laughed at me, he laughed and said "fuuck yes." in that moment, i knew that he had already known, and was waiting to see if id admit it. with him, i have this manic energy where i come off completely insane over text, and his steady energy only serves to wind me up more. i think he knew id cave and beg to be detransitioned, my pics are all pretty high femme and lets just say im not ever subtle about my femininity.

the weird thing is, i only have that manic energy with him. i dont know if its because hes genuinely the hottest guy ive ever met, or because he took my virginity, or because he succeeded in breaking my mind. but the other guys ive slept with, while they blow my mind and show me what im for, i dont make such a fool of myself to them.

genuinely with him i have lost all semblance of self-respect and it proves right everything he has ever whispered into my ear.

(Previously)

All that fun you've been having, going from being a virgin to getting inseminated by five different men within a couple months - and nothing ever made you flood like my tagging system? I'm very flattered, Anon! A bit bemused, but flattered.

So much to speak to here, but one part I truly love is that your new life as a woman started with the first man to use your pussy laughing at you. Like your whole identity as a man had been one long joke you were telling, and you'd finally gotten to the punchline.

That's what real respect looks like for you, isn't it, Anon? A man who'll wait for you to finish telling the joke before he laughs.

And the man who made you tell him your real name while he fucked you full of cum... There's a pleasing symmetry to that. He got something out of you and put something into you. He learned what they called you when you were born, and maybe gave you a baby to call your own.

Which is what you're made for, after all. Your body never stops reminding you of that, whether it's with the pain of a bruised cervix or your blood pulsing in your swollen nipples or the unstoppable pleasure of taking a man's cum in your womb. It's little wonder that you've come so far since getting fucked for the first time, little lady: your body was just waiting for the chance to start.

[georgiapeach30513]

A Little At A Time, Part 11

Summary:  Andy knows you’ve been keeping something from him.

Pairings:  Andy Barber X Reader

Rating:  mild

Warnings:  language, mentions of infertility, fear of miscarriage, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  4.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

With a sigh off your lips, your hand slides over Andy’s that was firmly resting on your belly.  Weaving your fingers in his, you try and lift his hand up higher on your body.  He was going to know, and find out your secret if he kept his hand there.  Andy, still fast asleep, lets your hand hold onto his, placing it on your heart instead.  

You couldn’t sleep.  Not with the constant worry and intrusive thoughts going on through your head.  And currently you are fighting off nausea.  Trying to ignore your situation, it was becoming harder and harder to deny that you are pregnant.  Your boobs had become so sensitive, and Andy barely grazing them either made you wince, or gave you this deep desire to fuck him.  There was no in between.

The upset stomach was slowly going from morning sickness to just all day sickness.  To the point that making meals was becoming unbearable.  And you never remember having cravings quite like you did now.  Like if you didn’t get that orange dreamsicle right now you would die.  God, it sounded amazing.  You can taste the popsicle on your tongue.  Thinking about food makes your stomach roll, and you need Andy’s hand back on your belly.

“No,” you whisper.  Taking a deep breath to ease the impending sickness that is bubbling up.  Eyes watering as you try and fight it.  “No,” jumping out of the bed, Andy sits up immediately as you run into the bathroom, and hurl your guts out.  

If you are pregnant, your baby is being mean to you.  Tears fill your eyes, and you try to make the sickness stop.  Try to come up with an excuse, and there is nothing.  You work with kids, so there could be an explanation.  It was just a stomach bug.

“Peaches?  Honey, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you swallow sickness as Andy walks into the bathroom, “I really don’t need you to see me like this,” you complain, and he leans back on the counter.  Damn, he looks good.  Nothing but boxers on, and his arms cross his chest, and a deep desire to bite his nipples comes over you.  

“Honey, I think you should call out sick.”

“I'll be fine in the morning, Ands.  It’s nothing,” he clicks his tongue, while you sit on your bottom.  Why was he so sexy?  Visions of him pressing your face into the mattress while he pounds you from behind enter in your mind.  Dreamsicle.  Oh it sounds amazing.  Even better licking it off his titties.

Andy taps his fingers over the counter while he watches you.  “Did you just get sick?  Or has this been going on?”

“I’ve been throwing up all week at work,” fucking hell.  Andy narrows his eyes at you, but doesn’t say a thing.  He is fucking hot when he’s got an angry face looking at you.  He could fuck you from behind while you ate a dreamsicle.  

“What do you think has caused you to have an upset stomach?”

“Probably my period,” Andy cocks up his eyebrow.  My god, you want to ride him while he holds the dreamsicle up for you.  You actually moan out loud.  Imagining Andy covered in dreamsicles, and your tongue just licks him and the popsicles up.  

“Uhh…you’re not due for a period currently.”

“It’s unpredictable.”

“Then you’re very late.”

“I need a snack,” you answer, standing up, and walking straight into the kitchen.  They were calling your name, and they are just a few feet away.  You can already taste them on your tongue.  Smell them in every part of your body.  A flash of wondering what Andy’s cream would taste like with the creamsicle imprints in your mind, and you shove it away.  Not tonight.  

Slinging open the freezer, you stare horrified, they are gone.  What is this sadness?  It’s not even anger.  Your feelings are hurt.  They are not here, “Daddy, they’re gone.”

“What’s gone, honey?”

“Th-the dreamsicles,” why did your voice just go up an octave?  And why does your chest feel tighter?  “They were right there, and now they’re gone, and…”

“You ate the last one after super.  Even gave  me the last bite.”

“I did that?” That’s all you could think about.  Now an emptiness is heavy in your belly.  “I really wanted that,” why are you screeching?  “I really wanted a dreamsicle,” what were the tears?

“Peaches, baby, it’s okay.  I’ll get you some in the morning.”

“But I really wanted one right now.  My stomach is upset, and I can’t stop throwing up.  I’ve got slutty thoughts about my husband always in my mind, and it is involving those fucking popsicles, and my tits hurt.  They really do, Andy.  And my nipples, they won’t stop being hard.  And I want to fuck you, and bite you, and I’ve got this really weird cramping in my belly, and…I really wanted that dreamsicle.”

Andy comes over to you, holding you, while your tears stream down your face.  Your voice had reached a high pitch he had never heard before.  He had never witnessed you ever being so fussy and comically unreasonable.  You all but told him what you had been thinking.  It wasn’t a dread, it was a fear.  “Daddy, I really wanted that popsicle.”

“I know, baby.  Do you want me to go to the store, and get you some more?”

“It’s two o’clock in the morning,” you whine.  Of all the silly little nonsense.  That suggestion is worse than you not being able to stop your tears.

“There’s stores that stay open twenty-four hours.  Let me go get you some more popsicles.  It shouldn't’ take me long, and you’re calling out from work.  There’s no way that you can work after you’ve been sick to your stomach and up all night.”

“Andy, I’m not sick,” you sniffle, trying to stop the tears.  Leaning back so you can look at him.

“I know, honey.  I’m not coming back with just the ice cream.  I need you to take a pregnancy test for us,” you shake your head no, starting to pout as you bury your face back in his chest, “Why?”

“Because what if this is all in my head, and it’s negative?  Because what if it’s positive, and I do something to our baby?  What if…?”

“Shhh,” Andy’s thick hands rub up and down your back.  “Honey, if you are pregnant, we need to know now.  We’ll need to get you set up with a doctor, and have the best prenatal care we can get.  If you're pregnant it’s better to find out now, rather than later.”

“You knew,” you don’t even lean back to look at him, just keep your face tucked on his chest.  His titties really are comfortable.  “How?”

“The vomiting.  The weird smell aversions.  You’ve been on a dreamsicle kick for awhile now.  It’s like you’re going to die if you don’t have one.  Why do you think I got you new vitamins?  Peaches, they are prenatal.  Let me go get some more popsicles, and buy a test.  I will hold your hand while you take it.”

“You’re going to hear me pee?”

“I just heard you throw up.  I have heard you pee, and I have gone into the bathroom after you shit.  We’re getting married.  If I hear my wife’s pee while she’s peeing on a stick, what should it matter.”

“I don’t shit,” you giggle, giving his nipple a little bite.  “I am a lady.”

“Yeah, tell that to your ass.  Is there any other weird thing you need me to buy while I’m out?  You need some chips?  Pickles?  Corn?”

“Corn?” You bite his other nipple a little harder, and he pinches your ass.  “No.  Dreamsicles are perfect.  Ooh, but if you want to get some of that grass fed beef jerky, I won’t be mad.”

“First, say it.  Tell me, Andy, I think I’m pregnant,” a smile creeps up your face, and you shake your head.  “Yes, say, Daddy, I think that you fucked a baby in me.  I’m going to be so swollen with you.”

“Andy!”

“Is that not what you’ve been begging for?  You have been begging for me to fill you up and…”

“Daddy, I think I’m pregnant,” Andy beams down at you.  He has dreamed of this moment, and you looking up at him so sweetly with tears in your eyes, and your cheeks glistening with the tears that had already spilt was more than he could have ever imagined.

“Give me about thirty minutes.  I’m going to get you some dreamsicles, beef jerky, and a test.  Try and get some sleep, or rest.”

“But the popsicles,” this is just silly.  You start blinking your eyes because the thought of trying to get sleep when your body is aching for that stupid ice cream is driving you insane.  “I need them, and can’t sleep without them.”

“Okay, let me run and get the ice cream, and a test, and the grass fed beef jerky.  Can you have that?”

“Andy!”

“Okay, okay.  I’m on my way to the store.  I love you, and I’ll be right back, honey,” why is he so cute?  Just watching him run back into the bedroom to put on some sweats, and shoes makes you want to start crying again.  He is perfect, and you worry you just don’t deserve him.  

“What’s wrong?” He asks, grabbing his keys.  He is moving as fast as he possibly can, but here you are unable to control your thoughts and emotions.  “Honey?”

“You’re so perfect.  And I don’t know why I can’t stop crying.  I have been fighting the tears for so long.  I’m scared, Andy.  Scared to be pregnant.  Scared to not be pregnant.  I have all these obscene cravings, and these completely ridiculous and abhorrent fantasies about you.  I’ve got you traipsing around all hours of the night for some damn popsicles, because I need it, and I knew in Georgia.”

“What?” Andy asks, stepping closer to you, and you're wallowing in his chest again.  “What did you know in Georgia?”

“I felt it.”

“Felt what?  Honey, I’m confused.”

“I felt them connect.  Your sperm and my egg.  I just don’t want to say it out loud, because if I do, she can be taken away from us.  And I’m already calling her a she, and I don’t even know.  And I want you to touch her little home all the time, and I’m ridiculous.  Why is my phone ringing?” More tears.  They never stop anymore, and the phone was playing an obnoxiously loud tune.  “It’s Mamaw.”

“Let me get it.  Stay right there,” jogging back to the bedroom, he doesn’t make it to your phone, but it starts ringing again, “Ruby?”

“Why are you answering the phone?”

“She’s in the living room, and I ran back in here.”

“Why is she in the living room, Andrew?” Andy walks back to you, and thankfully you have sat down on the couch, but still you cry.  

“Peach Blossom, you want to talk?” You shake your head no, and Andy tries to think of an excuse, “She’s tired, Ruby.  She got sick.”

“She’s not sick.  The wind changed,” Andy looks at you a bit confused, but doesn’t say much.  He would never do anything to insult your grandmother.  “So were you two ever going to tell me what she’s got growing in her belly?”

“Uh…what?”

“You two have sex, we’ve established that.  But why are you hiding a pregnancy?”

“I’m very confused.  I…we don’t even know if she is.  I’m making an emergency run, and she’s really craving ice cream.  Honey,” he hands the phone over to you, “You need to talk to her.  This is weird.  You need ice cream, and I need you to test, so we can get you to the doctor, if you’re pregnant,” he gives you a sweet kiss to your temple before walking out the door, and you want to cry again.  He was so pretty leaving, but it hurts to see him gone.

“Mamaw?”

“Oh, Peach Blossom, it’s okay.  This is what you’ve always wanted.”

“We’re not married, and you are going to be so disappointed in me,” why do the tears not stop?  Why was your mouth literally tasting the popsicle in your mouth?  Why was your fiance not sitting beside you?  “But I want her.”

“Baby, I am not disappointed in you.  I’m upset you didn’t call me.  When did you know?”

“That night in my bed.  I’m sorry we had sex in my bed under your roof, and I just knew.”

“Peach Blossom, you stop that crying.  You’re acting like your mother did.  It’s definitely a girl.  That’s how I acted with her.  Not your uncle.  The girls make you cry.  Stop.  Your man is going to get your ice cream.  He’s going to make a great husband and dad for you.  But you need a doctor.  Why are you waiting?” Of all people you figured that she would get it.  Mamaw had held you after every doctor’s visit.  The ugly reality hitting you that you might not be able to get pregnant.

Every period that was painful beyond movement, she made sure you drank water and ate something.  Would bring a heating pad for you, and lay in the bed with you reading stories, or watching cheesy soap operas with you.  Mamaw had been the person you leaned on, and now it was Andy.  She had to know why you had been avoiding an official test.

“Because I don’t want me and Andy to be attached and something happens to her.  I can deal with my heartbreak, but not his.  He deserves the world.  Mamaw, what if I can’t carry her?  What if…”

“What if you shut up?” Why is she being so mean?  “Baby, I’m not saying that you don’t have fears, or saying that you can’t feel hopeless because of those fears.  I’m saying if you miss out on all the good parts of a pregnancy, or keep that from Andy, I’m going to whoop you.  That man deserves to baby you.  You know that’s what he wants.  He wants to take care of you and that baby.  And you would be taking away the early parts of pregnancy.  That’s not fair to either of you.  Enjoy each phase of yours and Andy’s life.  If you want to marry him there will be gut wrenching moments that you two will have to endure.  But I think you two will be people where the good outweighs the bad.  It’s time for you to trust him and your relationship.  Has he heard you toot?”

“Mamaw,” you start giggling through your tears, grabbing some tissues to clean yourself.

“I’m sure he’s heard you toot.  Stinking ass.  If he loves your butt so much, he has to smell it.  There’s good and bad to things.  Now, be thankful you have a man willing to go shopping for your cravings in the middle of the night.  Be thankful that he wants to be present in the pregnancy.  Baby, that’s what this life is about.  You’ve found someone to share it with, so let him have it all.  That’s what he wants.  He wants everything.”

“You’re right,” he is already back.  Headlights shining into the house.  “You’re right.  I really need this ice cream, too.”

“Pee on that stick, and just prove to both of you that there’s a little peanut in there.  Baby, bad things happen to good people, but don’t worry about what could happen.  Worry about what is happening.  And that’s the fact that you don’t know how to keep your legs closed in my house, and he put a baby inside of you.  You two make a mess of the sheets, just to let you know.”

Oh.  My.  God.  Mamaw was being too honest right now.  “Let that sexy man take care of you, baby.  Love you, and I expect a picture of my grandchild as soon as you have one.”

You don’t know what is sexier; your future husband, or the multiple bags he had that were filled with boxes of dreamsicles.  “I didn’t want us to run out, and I knew that the freezer could handle it.  Plus, you convinced me to get the deep freezer for the garage.  So we can put the extra stock in there.  I opened up a box on the way here, so here’s you one.  Let me get these in the freezer before they melt.  Eat that, and then you’re going to pee on a stick.”

His voice trails off as he walks towards the garage, and you are ready to cry again.  Eyes welling up with tears as you take a bite from the confection.  He is so perfect.  Damn, he looks amazing.  He went for a two in the morning run for ice cream because your body and his baby was craving it, and he bought extra.  

Andy stops at the doorway into the living room, giving you a pout as a tear streams down your face, “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“You’re so perfect.  I’m being ridiculous.  This…this isn’t like me.  You went and bought lots of ice cream for me, and beef jerky.  And my breath is going to smell awful, and you’re smiling at me, looking like a god in your sweatpants, and hoodie.  And I’m just…Andy, I think pregnant.”

“Gee, what gave you that idea?  Was it the throwing up?” You sniffle, holding your arms out wide.  You need him to hold you.  You have turned into this needy little silly goose, and you need his lap.  “Was it the strong cravings?  Or maybe this new emotional self that you don’t seem to be able to control?  Maybe it was your nipples that are always hard and you squeal anytime I touch them.”

“Yes,” whining as you crawl into his lap, and his hand naturally finds your belly.  “And that.  You knew, too.”

“Peach Bottom, it’s not like we were careful.  And I’m not stupid.  The vomiting is becoming a normal thing.  And you’ve been doing it at work,” you hold out your popsicle to him, and he gives it a little bite, leaning forward to give you an extra sweet kiss.  “Mmm, so the possible little bean that’s in there is really liking these?  You want to pee on the stick, while I finish this?”

“Absolutely not.  I cried for these popsicles.  I need them.  I think she’s happy now.”

“You’re going to keep calling the bean in your belly a she, and he's going to prove that he’s a boy.”

“No, I just…I felt it.  Like the moment it happened, I just felt it.  And I feel her, and I know that it’s crazy.  But I really want to see you have this sweet little baby girl in your arms.  I want to be her best friend, but I want you to be her hero,” Andy is the one getting tears in his eyes, and your head jerks away from him, “Stop that.  I can’t cry anymore.”

“You brought it up.  You’re making me all kinds of soft.  Talking about becoming a hero to our daughter, and we don’t even know for sure if you’re pregnant, and…”

“You’re scared we’re going to lose her.”

His hand starts to rub up and down your back, and you tuck yourself under his chin.  Alternating bites between you and him, “Andy what if I can’t…can’t — I want her.”

“Honey, things are going to happen when they happen, and how they’re meant to happen.  People miscarry all the time, and it’s nobody’s fault.  Our goal is to give the baby the best environment to grow.  If that means you quit working beforehand, then that’s what we do.  But no matter what, we will be fine.”

“I’m scared.  I want to be a mommy, and raise our baby like my mom didn’t me.  I would never give her up.  I never want to spend a day without her, and I want you to be a daddy to our baby, and get to spoil her like…” getting emotional all over again when you think about the life that you didn’t have.  Andy thinks, too.  He didn’t have that perfect home with present parents.  

“My dad never raised me.  Peaches, please, put us out of our misery, and take the test.  And then we deal with everything afterwards.  There’s no point in us going over these scenarios that might happen.  Honey, I love you.  I’m going to marry you, and we’re going to be parents one way or another.  There’s nothing wrong with you.  I’ll make sure you become a mommy.”

“Yeah,” whispering, you let him have the last bite as you look at the box of tests on the table.  It was surprising that you and Andy didn’t have a stockpile of tests.  You knew what unprotected sex would bring.  And unprotected wasn’t even the word; this was deliberately trying to get pregnant.  This is what you wanted and still those fears linger in your mind.

Doubting your ability to get pregnant, or to even carry a baby until birth.  Those years of the doctors’ words haunting you with every step you take to the bathroom.  The possibility was low, almost impossible.  There could be complications.  There could be a low birth rate.  There could be something wrong with the baby.  

You wanted this life.  The handsome husband, the beautiful house that you and he made a home, and you wanted a family.  With children involved.  Yeah, there were other options, and you weren’t too good for them.  But there has always been a strong desire to feel and have every moment of a pregnancy.  To feel the first flutters.  To see their movement in your belly, to hear that first cry, and feeling their skin and breath on your own.

Andy’s arms wrap around you so tightly as you wait for that word.  Or two words, should it not be positive.  So much negativity swirls in your head as you wait for one of your biggest dreams to possibly come true.  Andy whispers your name, and you don’t even hear it.  The negative doctor voices are so loud.  

The tears of true fear pour down your face as he says your name again, and you try and crawl into his skin, “Baby, listen to me.”

“No.  I can’t.  I can’t deal with this heartbreak.”

“The heartbreak of what?  Trying to find a crib?” He holds you even tighter, kissing the top of your head.  “We’ve already got the room picked out.  Do you want dark furniture or light?”

“Andy,” you can’t say anything else as those fearful tears just turn into a relieving joy, and you sob as all those moments of being told you most likely would never be pregnant slowly leave your body.

“And we’ve got to get you a doctor’s appointment, and no matter what they say, you’re going to do it.  I don’t care if they tell you to eat chicken for every meal.  And we need to start looking up names, and I promised that if we have a girl that Mae is in it.  And…Peaches, baby, we’re going to be parents.”

His words sound so beautiful, but still you are in your head of seeing every moment.  You are pregnant.  With Andy’s baby.  He was growing inside of you.  You are pregnant.  “And you need to decide how you want to do the wedding.  Do you want to get married now, and have a wedding later?”

“Andy, we’re having a baby,” you finally push off him to look at his beautiful face, and he starts peppering kisses all over your cheeks.  It was so late, and you couldn’t sleep even if you wanted to.  “I love you.  God, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he whispers, pressing his lips against your temple.

“I was talking to our baby,” he stops his motions just to give you that look.  “I love you, too, Daddy.  I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“Neither would I.  We’re having a baby.  We’re having a baby!  I want to sling you over my shoulder, and run through the house, but there’s precious cargo in the belly.  And…we should call Poppy, and your grandparents, and…no we should wait.  First doctor’s appointment, and then…”

“Andy, we should wait.  First trimester a lot happens, and…Mamaw pretty much knows.  Something about the wind, but…we should wait.  I can’t deal with…if anything happens I just want us to know because I can’t deal with other people asking about the baby and…”

“Honey, you gotta stop worrying.  You can’t do this every chance you get.”

“I-I-I know.  But I can’t help it.  It’s ingrained me.  I’ll be positive, I promise.  I just want the first trimester to be for us.  Maybe not make anything public until we know for sure that our daughter is in there.”

“You’re not giving that up are you?” Biting your lip, you shake your head no, running your hands up his chest, settling a hand behind his neck.  “You’re sure we’re having a daughter?”

“I just feel her.  Just like I felt when your tadpole broke into my egg.”

“What if there’s two in there?”

“There’s not.  And if there is, my one ovary is working double time or the egg split in two.  Must be that super sonic sperm of yours,” Andy throws his head back laughing, and you are so thankful that this man is the one you’re going to do life with.  That he was going to be the father of your baby.  “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For knocking me up.”

“Ugh, I am a baby daddy now, huh?”

“Yeah.  You’re my baby daddy.  What do you think of going to the courthouse, and getting married?  Like as soon as possible.  I still want a wedding, but I don’t want to take any rights away from you as a father.  And I want to be Mrs. Barber on our ultrasounds.”

“You just don't want to be pregnant for our wedding,” you shake your head no.  Having a big pregnant belly in a wedding sounds amazing.  But the idea of looking back years later at ultrasound pictures to having your last name on them instead of Barber bothered you for some reason.  “Really?”

“We can get married this week, and then later when our little girl decides to show herself we can go back to Georgia for a small ceremony, and party, and let everyone celebrate us, but our baby.  I think I’d be cute in a white dress, and a big ole baby belly.”

“You would be the cutest.  And while I would love to continue this conversation, you need sleep.  You’re growing our baby, and I refuse to call the baby our daughter until we know what the little bean is.  Either boy or girl, you know you’ve got me, right?  Like this is life for us.  Just me and you, and our baby, and if we have more.”

“And a dog?”  Andy wouldn’t say no to you, even if he wanted to.  You know you had him.  You know that he was going to do whatever he could to make you happy.

“When the baby can talk.  We’ll get a dog.  You miss animals, hmm?” You give him a head nod, feeling the sleep start to take over.  Hoping that there isn’t a sickness that pushes itself up in an hour.  “I’ll get us a dog, Peach Bottom.  When our baby can talk, and name the puppy, I’ll get us whatever you want.  But your eyes getting heavy tells me how sleepy you are.  Let’s get in the bed, and let me hold you and our baby.”

A giggle rings in Andy’s ears, and he smiles.  He had always followed the rules in hopes of having the perfect family.  And he was getting it.  Getting all that and everything in between with you.  What you had been thinking was right.  Andy’s hand had drifted to your belly, instead of your butt, because he wanted to hold his baby.  It was perfect.  He is perfect.  Your baby daddy, and almost husband was perfect.  

His hand plants on your belly the second he crawls behind you.  It drifts all over your belly, tracing over every inch.  It was only going to last this size for so long.  Andy wasn’t going to waste one second trying to find his baby.  There is a shift in him.  This determination that you couldn’t explain.  

Mamaw told you that you chose a partner well.  She said she could feel Andy’s protectiveness sizzle off him.  That he would be the type of man that would stand in front of you to keep you away from harm.  The type of man that would walk closer to traffic, just to keep you protected.  Mamaw was a smart woman with her silly superstitions, but she wasn’t wrong about Andy.  He was all those things, and more.

You could feel his fierce protectiveness grow with your pregnancy.  He wasn’t just protecting you anymore.  He was protecting his family.  His family.  With you.  And his baby.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @missusbarnes-rogers​ @peaches1958​ @seitmai​ @smile1318​ @andydrysdalerogers​ @kittycatcait219 @sarahdonald87​ @roguediorxoxo @patzammit​ @elrw24​ @redbloodedgurl​ @cjand10​ @calwitch​ @sebsgirl71479​ @midnightramyeoncravings​ @atoosa22​

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Ten.

Oh, oh now what do we have here, besties? Do we have the lesser-seen DOUBLE UPDATE day today? We do. Are you getting TWO NEW CHAPTERS? You are! Why? I felt like giving you a little treat, so yeah, enjoy some James and Ella twice!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,528

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

“Oi, walking flea circus. Get up.” 

Snedders frowned, his head pounding as he blindly reached for where he’d placed his watch, looking at the time. 11:02am. Far too early. “Jim, chill out, man. It’s early. I’m in bed, still.” 

“You ain’t in bed, you’re on our fucking sofa, now shift it!”  

He groaned, heaving himself up, reaching to the can of lager he’d left on the table and downing what was left. “Aw, fuck. Can’t even let a man enjoy his hangover, ya twat.” 

“Newsflash, Snedders; you’re a fucking guest! I live here. Maybe stop pissing Kerry off and you’ll be allowed home for longer than a week at a time, innit,” he spoke, setting his tea down and shoving the blankets up the sofa to take a seat, Snedders finally rising to begin folding them up.  

“Proper full of shit, you are. If you could, you’d have been just as fucking leathered as I was last night, but no.” 

“Well, if I want my meds to work, I can’t,” he quipped, raising an eyebrow as he lit a cigarette. “And that weed Gaz got? Fuck, it was good.” 

“Oh, I know,” he spoke, pulling out his rolling tobacco pouch as he sat down again, constructing himself a cigarette. “You put the share price in Mcvitties through the fucking roof all on your own. How many packets of chocolate digestives did you munch your way through?” 

“Three,” he laughed. “What’s your point?” 

“Fat bastard,” he smirked, licking the rolling paper. 

“Oi, I ain’t the one with the gut, you gobby dickhead. Total bullshit.” 

Snedders snorted, shaking his head. “Suck. My. Cock.” 

“You. Fucking. Wish,” James fired back, looking up as Steve’s bedroom door opened, the rather dishevelled man himself stepping out.  

“Both of you, never, ever let me drink ouzo again,” he groaned, heaving. “I keep burping aniseed.” Another heave. 

“If you’re gonna honk your guts up, get in that bathroom, fucks sake,” James spoke, pointing in the direction of it.  

Steve stood and mulled it over, rubbing his bare stomach. “Nah, mate, think I’m alright.” A few seconds elapsed. “Nah, I’m gonna puke. Make me a coffee while I go see that fucking kebab again.”  

“You want a tea, Sneds?” James asked, rising from the sofa again and walking over to the kitchen area.  

“That’s about the best thing that’s come out of your fat gob all morning. Four sugars, please. I need to get myself alert, man.” Just then, the noise of high heels emanated from Steve’s bedroom, the door opening to reveal a knockout of a girl emerging.  

The guys looked at each other puzzledly, then back at her. “When’d you get here, princess?” James asked, the girl giving him a good look up and down. 

“After you two had passed out. Steve called me at about three, but now I’m seeing you shirtless, I wish I’d had a go on you as well while I was here,” she purred, James grinning widely. “That’s some body you’ve got yourself.” 

“I try,” he smirked, the girl sauntering towards the door, Snedders sitting there with his tongue hanging out. As soon as the door was closed... 

“Did you see the arse on that?” 

James laughed filthily. “Top grade, innit?” Preparing the drinks, he brought them back to the coffee table, flopping down and reaching over to the small table covered in music magazines and an overflowing ashtray, pressing the answering machine. No messages.  

“You seem to be checking that a bit obsessively, Jim,” Snedders remarked, giving his tea a good blow before the first careful sip. How he’d missed James’s tea; he was the only person he knew who actually made it well.  

“Waiting on a call,” he shrugged. 

“Who from?” 

“His new bird!” Steve announced loudly as he entered the room, looking a lot less pale than when he’d left it, wet hair indicating he’d also jumped into the shower after his visit with the toilet bowl.  

Snedders turned, mouth open. “What the... You’ve been out of the nuthouse for a grand total of two weeks, and you’ve pulled a new girl already? Fucking hell, mate! Leave some for the rest of us, eh?” 

“Pulled her while he was still in there, the fucking tart.” 

“You fucking what?” The bellowed reaction sent the pair into fits, Snedders sitting there wide eyed, offering his hand. “Only you, my man. Only you.”  

James shook it, still laughing. “I do well for myself everywhere I go. It’s my raw charm, mate. Girls can’t get enough of it.”  

“Ain’t because you’re a pretty boy, with pretty hair, and girls can groom you like you’re a giant My Little Pony?” 

He snorted. “At least I am pretty, you fucking riffy flea bag.” 

“Oil! Enough of that, or you’ll be wearing this tea!” Snedders warned, sending him into laughter all over again. Saturday mornings with his mates, drinking tea, chatting shit, having fun. God, he’d missed it while he’d been away. “Right, I’m making breakfast. Fucking starving. Could eat a badger with enough ketchup on it.” He’d also missed Snedders cooking, too. While he sat and awaited Warwickshire’s best full English to be assembled, a few miles away in Rugby, Ella was in a panic. 

“Jane!” she called through her sister’s bedroom door. “Are you awake?” 

It opened, revealing a slightly sleep ruffled person, still in one of the huge t shirts she always wore to bed. “Well if I wasn’t, I bloody would be now, wouldn’t I?”  

“Good, I bleedin’ need to stress out and I don’t want to do it by myself,” she spoke, handing her one of the two cups of tea in her grasp before moving past her, sitting down on the edge of the messy bed in an equally messy bedroom. “What the hell do I even wear tonight? I don’t have any clothes that scream rock club vibe!” 

Indeed she did not, all of her old clothes either in extra small adult or child sizes, Ella’s current jobless status meaning her wardrobe was meagre at best. With only a few hundred pounds left in her bank account that she’d allocated for other expenses, she didn’t want to splurge on a new outfit either. Luckily for her, though, she and Jane were now the same size.  

“Okay, let me have some of this tea and a fag first while I contemplate.” A few puffs on a Marlboro Light and a couple of swigs of Tetley later, and Jane had an idea. “Okay, we go sexy but understated. A pair of my skintight jeans, a simple black vest and those platform boots you have, the sexy stripper style ones. All that and a Wonderbra and sis, that man, his dick, boing!” 

Ella almost spat her tea out. “Trust me, he doesn’t need any further amping up in that department. If he got hard kissing me when I was still a bony mess who dressed in nothing but baggy clothes, then, well…” 

“He’ll be able to pogo himself on his own hard on when he sees you looking all swit swoo and sexy in what I have in mind!”  

Oh, how she had missed her sister, Jane truly her best friend as well as her only sibling. The three women of the house were bonded very closely, and had been since the girls’ father had walked out on the family back when Ella was five, and Jane seven. Seventeen years on and neither truly remembered Owen Featherstone, not even keeping his surname. Both had changed to their mother’s maiden name of Greenhall. 

Speaking of April, once Ella had tried on and approved the outfit choice advised, she headed downstairs for a very late breakfast while Jane took a bath, her mum smiling widely as she entered the kitchen. 

“How’s my chicken?” she asked warmly, Ella moving to place the mugs in the dishwasher. 

“Good for having a lie in,” she smiled, moving to the fridge and pulling out a couple of eggs as well as the tub of Flora. “I’m enjoying all the comforts of home, including my old bed. I will get out of your hair eventually, when I get a job sorted.” 

April stood from her seat at the small counter, reaching to stroke her hair. “Stay as long as you like, sweet girl. I don’t mind.” Gesturing to the eggs, she raised an eyebrow curiously. “Scrambled on toast?” 

They just happened to be her mum’s specialty breakfast dish. “Yes, please.” 

“Take a seat, chicken.” Moving with her usual fluid grace, she cracked the eggs into a bowl, grabbing the whisk to blend whites with yolks. A pan was then fetched, a little curl of Flora placed in before setting the pan upon the hob. “One slice of toast?” 

“Please.” 

The breadbox was the next stop. “Jane tells me you’re off to that club on the high street with her tonight,” April commented, placing one slice of Hovis wholemeal into the toaster. “Odd choice for you, being the very antithesis to the music you like.” 

“Yeah, but I have good incentive, though,” she spoke, her mum turning to her with a knowing grin. 

“Is that incentive named James, per chance?” 

Immediately, her cheeks coloured, her face pinching. “Yes.”  

“Oooooh!” 

“Mum, no! No ooooh!” 

“Oooooh!” 

Immediately, she hid behind her hands. “Mum, please!” 

April couldn’t help but chuckle, turning the hob on beneath the pan. “Does he even know you’re going to be there? As far as I’ve seen, your attempts to call him have all been unsuccessful.”  

Indeed, Ella’s nerves had firmly gotten in the way, her stomach awash with the dance of many butterflies over the last week and a half. “He doesn’t, no. Jane says that the element of surprise is a powerful move, though, and I suppose I agree with that. I’m still nervous, though.” 

“Why?” Turning the eggs around in the pan as they began to firm, she turned the heat down, reaching to click the kettle on. “You let me read that lovely letter he wrote you. For all intents and purposes, he seems very much attached.” 

“Yeah, yeah Andrea told me the same thing at the time, and then twice so far this week when we’ve chatted on the phone. I’m just... it’s my bleedin’ self-confidence. He’s so, so gorgeous, he could have any girl he wanted! I’m struggling to believe he wants me, especially since like, my body confidence is still a bit shaky.”  

Plating up her breakfast, she handed it over, moving next to grab the French press and make some fresh coffee. “This all ties in with that mean little voice you have in your head, the one you used to see as a helpful friend,” she began. 

“The voice of Ana,” Ella confirmed, her mouth thinning. It was a common term for those who suffered with the eating disorder, to name anorexia as Ana.  

“Yes, that little beast. It’s her again, you know, telling you he isn’t as into you as you know he is, as others can see he is, like your new friend Andrea. Maybe apply some of your therapy techniques to help silence her in this situation too, chicken?”  

It was a valid suggestion. 

“Fair comment.” Ahh, a James-ism. They slipped out every now and again. Slicing into the toast, she gathered the fluffy eggs and speared them, popping in the first mouthful as her tummy rumbled right on cue. “Mmmm.” 

April beamed, reaching to stroke her cheek. “It’ll never fail to make me happy, seeing you enjoying food again.”  

“It’s nice to not be quite so scared of eating, too.” Her portions were still on the smaller side, but snacks were also included in Ella’s daily diet now. Once she was done eating, it was her turn to go and lie in the bath for a while, luxuriating while listening to her music. Since her release, it was the simple things she was enjoying most, the comfort of her own bed, unlimited bathroom time. The biggest? Being able to relax without having a pair of eyes on her always, monitoring her behaviour.  

Once out, she pulled on her sweats and a t shirt, heading into her sister’s room to relax and watch a film prior to getting ready. The girls settled on Clueless, their favourite since its release two years prior. Every so often, Ella would think of their evening ahead, her stomach flipping with nervous excitement, a small noise accompanying.  

“Sis, your little sounds of discontent, becoming more frequent,” Jane observed as the credits were rolling, moving to her small dressing table and plugging in her curling iron. “Shall I go fetch some drinks, help calm your nerves?” Her suggestion was met by rapid nodding. One bottle of Bacardi Breezer and a can of Strongbow were brought up from the fridge, Ella sipping the latter steadily, feeling calmer as she sat having some loose waves curled through her hair while she did her makeup.  

“Is my blush even?” she asked, turning so Jane could study her face. 

“Hmm, take the left cheek down a bit and yeah, you’re all good,” she spoke, running her fingers through the last of the curls to make them unscrew and fall in pretty waves instead. “How are the nerves?” 

“Don’t even bleedin’ ask!” she gulped, looking at the time. 6:05pm. There were two bands on at the start of the night, Nocturnal Descent hitting the stage at around 9pm. Just under three hours, and she’d see him again. Her butterflies? They were racing one another, it felt like, Ella dressing while Jane called for a taxi to get them to the centre of Nuneaton. 

Just over twenty minutes later and they were walking into The Gallows to the roar of Atrophy, the first of the two support bands, Ella feeling her ears ringing as they approached the bar. She scanned the room, looking to see if James was there yet, Jane leaning close as they waited to be served. 

“He’s probably hanging out backstage, sis. What you having, pint of the usual?”  

Her mind immediately began to do the maths over calories on top of the can she’d had at home, scolding herself with a mental slap. “Please, yeah.” Just being there in his environment, knowing she was in the same building as him made her nerves jangle even more, her heart escalating whenever she pictured him in her mind.  

She couldn’t wait to see him, but hell, she was so nervous that her hands began trembling. At least she had her mind taken off it, meeting up with some of Jane’s friends. Hester, Lecter (aptly nicknamed after biting someone during a fight) and Adam provided the perfect distraction from her mild panicking.  

“Ella, I’ve got to say, you look freakin’ smoking! Look, with your boobies and everything!” Hester remarked, pointing the neck of her beer bottle. “It’s lovely, seeing you so healthy.”  

Honest compliments. Since her weight gain, she was receiving them more and more. They all helped nicely with her self-image. “Thanks, sweetie! Speaking of boobs, how are yours now? They fucking look mint!” 

Tiring of being a flat chested double A cup, Hester had saved up her cash and done something about it, now a nice, full D thanks to her implants. “I love ‘em! I can’t feel my left nipple but they say that can happen. It’s worth it too, finally having a rack!”  

It was as she was laughing at her huge, Cheshire cat grin over finally having something substantial in the way of boobs that the house lights all dimmed, the crowd all roaring, Ella’s eyes snapping up to the stage. Oh, god. Oh god! She could make out the figures of Nocturnal Descent in the dim light, the noise of a guitar then booming before an unearthly wail split her eardrums in two, the stage lights illuminating the band.  

There he was. And god, he looked the furthest thing from how she remembered, corpse paint on, snake eyed contact lenses in, she could see from her vantage point to the side of the crowd. In truth, he looked scary as hell. Oh, how her heart still thundered, though, much like the music, Nocturnal Descent absolutely ear splitting in volume.  

He looked even bigger up on the stage, his hair a headbanged whirlwind as his fingers moved rapidly over the guitar neck, falling precisely on each fret. She might not have been much of a fan of black metal, but she could appreciate how good he was, the band on a whole, in fact.  

“And we’re moving closer,” Jane spoke, she and Hester flanking her and beginning to shove her nearer.  

“No, no I’m fine right here. Ladies! Not cool beans!” Ella squeaked, neither listening as she was taken about three people back from the front row, her mouth dry, her heart going into overdrive. He was virtually right in front of her.  

“Don’t be freakin’ daft, darl!” Hester shouted in her ear. “He won’t see you back there!” Yes, she’d confided in her sister’s bestie, Hester’s mouth dropping open at the revelation of her and War himself having a thing. She had to wonder whether he’d see her at all, with all the headbanging, and perhaps his vision a little hampered by the contact lenses.  

In the break between the second and third song, though, as he chugged back water from a pint glass while scanning the crowd, his eyes picked her out. Placing the glass back down by the monitors at the front, he fixed her with a stare, Ella feeling faint as she smiled, watching his blackened lips begin to curl. Then he winked. She almost fell through the floor. Jane and Hester let out two long, obligatory ‘oooooh’s’. 

“Sis, that man’s face, the grin!” Jane spoke, grabbing her arm and giving her a very thorough shake of joy. The only thing Ella could do was lean in close and squeal a little. Her elation at him being obviously pleased to see her there did little to quell the nerves over actually having him before her in person, though. Truly, she had no idea why, either. It was James, her BFG, the bloke she could talk to about anything.  

She felt her tummy turning over all the way through their set, racing to the bar after they were done to grab herself something steadying. 

“Two pints of Carlsberg, a double JD and Coke, a bottle of watermelon Bacardi Breezer, a pint of Strongbow and a double vodka, please.” No, she wasn’t about to throw the entire order at the bar down her throat, rather getting a round in for everyone. The last two drinks were hers, though, the double vodka only remaining on the sticky dark wood of the bar top for three seconds before she downed it in one.  

“Better?” Hester asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nope!” Her reply caused a booming laugh from the busty blonde, Ella being pulled into a hug. 

“You’re so sweet! It’ll be fine!”  

Would it? Her brain began to suggest that it might not be, throwing up all kinds of scenarios. What if it hadn’t been her he’d been grinning and winking at? What if it was a girl behind where she’d been standing? Goodness knows, there were enough of them present that night. What if he was pissed off to see her out of the facility, yet she hadn’t called him like he’d asked her to? 

Two cigarettes later and she was still no calmer, taking huge, puffed cheeked breaths that entertained Jane and Hester no end when finally, she saw him emerge from the doors at the side of the stage. 

“Oh, bleedin’ hell! Someone, help me!”  

Jane shrugged, watching a now paint and contact lens free James making his way to the bar, veering off when he saw her at the other end of it. “War has seen his target, he is cutting through the crowd, he’s smiling. Oh, sis, I hate you. He’s such a babe!”  

Placing her pint down, Ella felt like her heart was about to beat clean out of her chest as he moved through the throngs of people, feeling sick and hot. When he finally reached her, her brain failed with a complete short circuit, having no idea what to say. Talking, it seemed, wasn’t on James’s mind as he took her face in his hands and pressed his mouth to hers.  

That was the moment her very soul caught fire once again, but the burn brought her no pain at all. 

In a nanosecond, her heart went from nervous palpitating to thumping out nothing but waves of sublime happiness. She could hear Lecter and Adam howling, her sister letting out a piercing wolf whistle, but no amount of raucous noise could pull her away from him.  

“Shitting hell, I missed you, little,” he spoke when they finally parted, resting his forehead to hers, kissing the tip of her nose. Oh, how she bloomed further within. 

“Missed you too, church burner.”  

The boom of his laughter made her feel lit up inside. Finally, after seven very, very long weeks, she had him back.  

[sixhours]

Chapter 10 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

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

~*~

You don’t see or hear from Joel for three days, but the distance proves to be a good thing. You need the space to think and compartmentalization has always served you well.

It helps that your work at the clinic takes up all of those three days. The morning after your date, you get a call on the walkie telling you one of your patients is in labor. It’s a hard birth; a 19-year-old mother with a tiny frame and a larger-than-average baby, and you don’t have a drop of anesthesia to offer, nothing stronger than homemade whiskey and pain pills that barely dull the contractions. The labor drags out over the next two days in a chorus of blood and screams that ring in your ears for hours.

The baby finally makes her entrance, nine-plus pounds and healthy, save for the forceps bruises on her swollen cheeks. Her mother, on the other hand, has a broken tailbone, a mess of stitches, and needs a blood transfusion. You want to give her a stern lecture on the importance of birth control, but what birth control? You can only tell her bluntly that if this happens again, she might not survive.

Just when you think you’ll be able to catch your breath, you get another call. Another labor, this one six weeks premature. The delivery is easy, but the baby is tiny and his chances are grim. The best you can do is put him in a warmer and have the nursing staff watch him around the clock.

Through it all, you’re reminded of how fucking fragile all of it is, how few tools you have at your disposal, how you’re walking a knife’s edge every time someone shows up at the clinic with anything more serious than a paper cut.

It’s infuriating, and you struggle to keep your distance, reminding yourself that Jackson doesn’t need your heartache; it needs medicine that you don't fucking have.

You drag your ass back to your house and peel off your bloodied scrubs as soon as you step inside, leaving them in a pile by the door. You plod upstairs and fill the tub as hot as you can stand it and then some. The water comes up to your chin, and you feel the stress of the last few days begin to seep from your muscles, tendrils unwinding from around your ribs, your shoulders.

You’re dozing in the fast-cooling water when you hear the knock.

You drag yourself out of the tub with a groan, wrapping yourself in a robe and tying up your hair, then padding down the stairs in bare feet to answer the door. Joel stands on the other side, looking as tired as you feel. He raises an eyebrow at your robe.

“Uh, this a bad time?”

“No,” you say. “Come in.”

His eyes fall on the bloody scrubs piled next to the door. “Jesus, what happened?”

“Oh…right. Everyone’s fine. Well, no, everyone’s not fine, but…everyone’s alive. So far,” you mutter. “Want a drink? I need a drink.”

“I don’t–”

“Drink…right,” you sigh. “I swiped some beer from the dance last fall. Help yourself if you change your mind.”

“Bad day?” he follows you, leaning in the doorway and watching as you open the fridge and grab one of the amber glass bottles.

“Days, plural,” you say, wiggling the bottle in his direction. “Are you sure?”

He frowns, then sticks out his hand. “Fine.”

“I am not above peer pressure,” you smile, grabbing a second bottle and pulling the cork before handing it to him. You clink the necks and take the first sip, sour bubbles coating your tongue.

You perch on a chair, crossing your legs and pulling your robe around you, and he takes a seat across the table, looking around uncomfortably.

“Kitchen looks good,” he says after a beat, nodding to the open ceiling, the new floor joist sticking out like a sore thumb, pink insulation peeking from around the studs.

“Thanks, I was going for that ‘construction chic’ look.”

He snorts, takes a drink.

“What are you doing here, Miller?”

He opens his mouth, closes it again, clears his throat, takes another drink, setting the bottle on the table. Normally you’d enjoy watching him squirm, but you’re too tired to wait for his slow Texas drawl.

“Look, if this is about the other night, we don’t have to–”

“I had a good time,” he says flatly.

You blink. “Oh…me, too.”

“I just needed to say, I can’t…uh…I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m…ugh,” he groans, rubbing his face with his hands. You push his beer closer to him on the table. 

“Drink.”

You hold up your beer to demonstrate, then tip it back and take three long swigs. It’s homebrew, stronger than the old-world stuff. You put the bottle down with a barely concealed burp.

“Your turn,” you say.

He gives you a look, but then does the same, picking up the bottle and bringing it to his lips. You watch his Adam's apple bob at his throat as he swallows.

“Now what?” he says, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“We wait for the alcohol to kick in,” you say, putting an elbow on the table and leaning into your hand. “And you talk. Or I pass out…whichever comes first.”

He nods, then after a thought, takes another long drink.

Good boy. That’ll help things along.

“I told you I haven’t, uh, done this in a while.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, rubbing at his eyes.

“I recall.”

“I had a…partner…Tess. Back in Boston. She didn’t make it out, but we, uh…didn’t have what you’d call a relationship. She…got what she needed from me, and I got what I needed from her. And most of the time…that was enough.”

You lean back, studying him as he talks, watching his fingers slide absently up and down the amber glass.

“And now…I have Ellie,” he says, growing more serious. “She’s my first priority. End of story. I can’t…have anything get in the way of that.”

“I get it.”

“I just don’t want to give you the wrong idea,” he says, staring at you with those dark brown eyes. “We can’t…I can’t be…with you…like that.”

You plop your chin in your hand, considering this, feeling a wash of relief move through you. Or maybe that’s the beer.

“Look, Miller, I’m not what you’d call girlfriend material. But…I’m down for a good time. Whether that’s looking at meteors or…doing other things.”

He licks his lips, nodding slowly.

“Whatever…this…is,” you say, gesturing between the two of you. “It doesn’t need to be serious. You’re not going to hurt my feelings by giving it to me straight. We’re adults, right? So let’s act like it.”

He swallows hard. “Alright then. Not serious.”

“Not serious,” you smile, then down the rest of your beer, watching him do the same. You pick up the empty bottles to bring them to the sink. “Do me a favor and grab us a couple more. One’s not gonna cut it tonight.”

“Sure.”

He goes to the fridge while you rinse the bottles at the sink and leave them upturned to dry. You’ll give them back to the brewer to be reused.

“What’s this?”

You turn around. He’s holding the orange, looking at you with one raised eyebrow, and you have to turn back to the sink so he doesn’t see the heat in your cheeks.

“Oh, that. Don’t let it go to your head, Miller. I just like how it smells.”

You hear him take an experimental sniff and have to bite your lip to contain a grin. You hear the clink of the glass bottles and the fridge door close.

“Where’d you find an orange in this place, anyway?”

“Did some work in the greenhouse a while back. Guy named Miles…guess he used to be a botanist or somethin’, figured out how to grow ‘em. It’s no mango smoothie, but I figured…”

He shrugs, opening one of the bottles and handing it to you. Clink , sip, wait.

The silence draws in on itself, circling you, and you let it. You consider him, feeling a certain lonely hunger curling inside you, the alcohol making your brain feel pleasantly detached and loose. You catch yourself admiring his profile, the slope of his nose, the slight dimple in his cheek, the patch in his scruff where his beard doesn't grow.

He’s watching you, too. When your eyes lock for one second too long, you turn back to the sink with a sigh, pretending to busy yourself with the nonexistent dishes.

There’s movement at your back, the sound of footfall behind you, the clink of the glass bottle as it’s placed on the counter to your left, a sudden warmth at your lower back. You feel his breath on your exposed neck. When his lips brush the skin at your nape, you barely hold back a shudder.

“This okay?”

You laugh a little as if he hadn’t had you up against the wall in this very same kitchen months ago. There had been no asking permission then. “Mmmhmm.”

His hand slides lower, lower still, then cups your ass, warm hand gripping and kneading in a way that sends desire straight to your sex. His hips push against yours, leaning you into the counter, cornering you like he’s worried you might run if given the chance.

“Shit,” he whispers, rough palm connecting with bare skin underneath your robe.

You suck in a hard breath and it’s like you have to remember how. Air in, lungs expand, air out, lungs contract , but all you can feel is one hand gripping your hip, running around to your belly, sliding under your robe and up. God, his hands are so big, so warm . He cradles your ribcage in his palms like a newborn, running them up your sternum, teasing at the base of your throat with rough fingers, loosening the sash at your waist.

He turns you around, leans forward again, pinning your hips and back to the countertop behind you. He’s watching you, reading your face as his hands skim your breasts. Your nipples are already tight, but his rough palm is cupping, rolling, kneading.

“Not serious,” he says slowly.

“Uh uh.”

You find yourself holding back, trying not to make a sound, not to give him the satisfaction. But his eyes narrow, his hips sway deeper into yours, and his thumb makes direct contact with one erect nipple. You moan, and you can feel him twitch between your legs, his mouth dropping open, forehead coming to rest against yours.

His nose brushes yours, his breath at your lips, but both of you seem determined to let the other one make the first move. It’s tantalizing, infinitely frustrating, almost cruel.

“You sure?” he murmurs, and you swallow his exhale in answer. The kiss is soft at first, tender, gentle. Testing.

He leans in, tongue swiping teasingly over your bottom lip, asking permission. You oblige, tasting him, kiss deepening until you’re both panting, his hand pressed into the back of your neck like a tattoo. His tongue slides against yours in a honey-slick caress. 

He lifts you, turning you both until you’re sitting on the kitchen island. You have a momentary flash of his shoulder in a brace and consider reminding him to take it easy, old man , but then he’s kissing you, mouth trailing a hot tongue down the cradle of your throat, your collarbone, and the words are lost to the ether. Your robe has fallen open, exposing you, and he slips his hands inside, pushing it the rest of the way down your shoulders.

You realize he’s never seen you like this and the attention is almost uncomfortable. You can’t hide, you can’t run, you can’t turn around and press your face to the mattress.

“Fuck, you’re pretty.”

You arch into his mouth as his tongue circles one nipple, pulling it between his teeth, grazing the tender flesh before soothing it, over and over. He repeats this process on the other breast until you’re whimpering, caught in a haze of pleasure. Your hands reach for him, sliding under his shirt, pulling at his jeans, but he catches you by the wrist and gives you a gentle shake of his head.

Not yet.

He lays you back, one wide palm stroking the length of your torso, the robe thick and warm between your overheated skin and the cool marble of the countertop. He eyes you hungrily, spread out before him like a fucking buffet. Your throat tightens as his mouth descends upon yours again, suckling at your neck, your chest, your stomach.

“Oh, thank god, Miller,” you breathe, desperately clinging to your last shred of self-control.

“Mmm,” he grunts between open-mouthed kisses, intent on his path. His tongue circles your navel, dipping inside. “What?”

“Was beginning to think you didn’t know what foreplay was.”

He shoots you a dark look over the swell of your breasts, lapping at the sensitive flesh under your belly button, leaving a wet, hungry trail down, down, down.

Challenge accepted.

His tongue dips between your labia and you arch involuntarily, sliding back on the counter. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them apart while pulling you closer, anchoring your center to his mouth. Your fingers thread through his brown salt-and-pepper curls as he circles the pearl of your clit, pressing into it, laving it, circling again and again until you’re trembling, almost begging.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he growls, dipping lower, lapping at you, eating you out like you’re his last meal. Fingers replace his tongue and curl inside you as he returns to your clit, suckling in earnest. One hand leaves his hair to grip the edge of the counter as his fingers thrust deeper, harder, faster.

“Mm-gonna–”

“That’s right, you’re gonna come for me,” he pants. “Come for me.”

You do, clenching hard around him, arching into him, throbbing wantonly against his mouth.

“Good girl,” he purrs, kissing your trembling inner thighs, licking and sucking his way back up your flushed, overstimulated body. You kiss him, taste yourself on him and moan into his mouth, feeling his hardness, still clothed, pressing into your hot center. “So fuckin’ good.”

When you reach for his jeans this time, he doesn't push you away. You sit up, and he waits as you undress him, unusually patient, hands stroking your bare shoulders, your back.

He’s wearing the same shirt as when he thought he was having a heart attack, you realize, the one you had to deface to get to his chest. The buttons have been sewn back on with thread that doesn’t match, and for some reason the thought of him sitting on his couch with a needle in his lips makes your pussy clench.

His torso is puckered with small scars, the one on his abdomen freshest and most pronounced. He takes a sharp breath when you run your fingers over it. You can see the outline of the messy stitches that once held him together. He’s watching your face, cautious, as if he expects you to stop, to come to your senses.

Instead, you run your hands up his chest, down the thick muscle under his biceps, the soft fur of his forearms. You arch up to kiss his throat, feeling the rumble of his sigh under your lips. You taste his skin, salty and smoky and deeply masculine.

When you pull down his jeans, he presses himself into your hand involuntarily, closing his eyes and tipping his head back when you grip him, tracing the outline of his cock through his briefs. You push them down and stroke him, letting your thumb slide over the wetness at the tip, around, back down, watching the effect on his face, the slack of his jaw, the quickening of his breath.

He pushes you back, dragging you to him, positioning himself at your entrance. You groan at the contact as he drags his cock up the seam of your cunt, circling your clit, back down, up and down, until you’re writhing underneath him.

Where before he thrust into you without warning, now he’s painfully slow, teasing you to the edge of sanity. His head pushes inside and you can feel every fucking twitch of his cock at your entrance. You reach for his ass to pull him deeper but he’s using one powerful hand on your chest to hold you back.

“Gotta go slow,” he whispers, voice thick with arousal.

He rocks his hips forward and back, waiting for you to adjust, even though you’re so fucking wet for him it’s hardly an issue. Where was this Joel, you want to ask him, the one who’ll eat you for dinner and fuck you for dessert, but then you can’t because he’s pushing deeper, deeper, deeper, filling you up until the only thing you can focus on is the thick, heavy heat of him inside you.

It’s luscious, your hips rolling, snapping up to meet his until his hands clamp down on them to control your pace.

“Not gonna…last…if you keep doin’ that,” he growls. He pulls you up until you’re flush with his chest, changing the angle, cupping your ass and thrusting more shallowly, breathing hard as his teeth graze your neck. 

Your fingers slide between your joined hips, seeking out that one spot. “Want…” you pant, unable to form the words as your pleasure spills from your body in needy moans and whimpers. “More…”

His fingers follow yours until you’re both cupping your pussy, then gently pushes you out of the way and presses a thick finger to your swollen core, circling your clit with increasing pressure. You clench around him, so thick, so tight, feet pressed to the backs of his thighs to pull him as deep as you can.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he groans, but his words are staggered, catching in his throat. “God you’re…so…tight. Need you to…come…for me.”

He kisses you hard, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other working delicious circles around your swollen bud. You moan into his mouth as he leans you back until he’s filling you again, your hips arching off the counter to meet his, and the extra pressure on your clit sends you flying.

“Ah fuck,” he gasps as your walls clamp around him, milking him, and with one more solid thrust, he’s buried to the hilt and pulsing hot and sticky inside you.

“Not…serious,” he pants, nuzzling at your throat, teasing your lips with his.

“Not serious,” you repeat, but the words have lost all meaning in your sex-addled brain, and then he’s sliding you off the counter without letting his mouth leave your skin, and he practically carries you upstairs to bed.

~*~

And this is how it starts, the beginning of your unraveling at the hands of one Joel Miller, the town’s resident asshole and, to your amazement, a really fucking good lay.

He makes up some excuse to be at your place whenever your schedules align, which isn’t often…but you make the most of the time. You’ve learned a new thing about Joel–when he sets his mind to something, he doesn’t fuck around.

Or maybe it’s more accurate to say he does.

He’s almost ruthless in bed, controlling in a way you’ve never experienced in a partner…maybe because no one until this point has been up for the challenge of trying to control you. He edges you to the point of pain, teasing you, playing with your clit and your breasts and sucking on your neck until you’re trembling and begging for release–and when he finally gives it to you, you come hard. You always come hard.

You’re used to being the dominant one, but something about his hissing “good fuckin’ girl” in your ear, while he pulls your hair and takes you from behind, makes you melt, turns you into a whimpering raw nerve. He fucks you until it hurts to move, until you’re chafing and walking slowly from the constant friction between your legs. 

He fingers your asshole and calls you a filthy slut and then kisses you like he could drown in you. He marks you with bruises then soothes them with his tongue, whispering sweet words that fall like candy from his lips.

He pushes you to your knees and spills his seed on your chest, your face, your neck. You’re debased and degraded in a way you’ve never let yourself be before… but then he trails one finger from your temple to your jaw, and his black-brown eyes go slack with something more than lust until you have to look away.

You move through the winter days in a clouded haze of arousal and overstimulation, always too warm, distracted, and thinking about the next fix. You amass a collection of turtlenecks, grateful for the bitter winter wind.

Sometimes you hate the sheer madness of your desire, the gnawing sensation of want, of need . You don’t like the way you lose control when he’s inside you and cursing about how fuckin’ good you feel.

And yet, when he shows up at your door, you never turn him away.

[pleasantlyinsincere]

Part 2

(Part 1: Paul attacking Ruth over a TV appearance, Jim's prudent gambling, Paul and Linda being awful houseguests)

“It’s not working out with you” - Sleeves to the elbow, only skirts and short hair.

(This is an 11 minute long bit and has little to do with Paul directly, so I transcribed only a small part of it. But I find it so interesting how that crazy family worked.)

‘Mike and I’ve been having a talk. It’s not working out with you.’ … I said ‘What do you mean?’ - ‘You are too quick for me. [...] I’m gonna talk to Paul and he’ll buy you a house, or a shop, or a little business.’ [...] The night he said it’s not working, I said ‘What things?’.  He said: ‘Well you go around with bare arms and I’ve seen Mr. Jack, the gardener, [...] looking at you bare arms. And this thing with the long hair and the ponytail, it’s just not respectable. [...] And I had promised my first husband, who loved my long hair [...], he always said to me: ‘Promise me, you’ll never get your hair cut off.’ And in an attempt to save my marriage [...] I went to the hairdressers and said: ‘Chop the lot off!’. [...] And went back to Jim’s. He said [...] ‘I called Auntie Ginnie and asked her how to handle this. [...] She reckons we should go over there, have afternoon tea with her and talk this thing through.’. I thought, what the fuck does it have to do with your sister?  [...] So I was subjected then to go over to auntie Ginnie’s for afternoon tea with Jim and for her to say ‘Now, you know, is that side of your marriage alright?’ She wants to know about sex again. [...] Just so unbelievable, Geoffrey, it was like in a nightmare. And we came home that evening and Jim said ‘So what are we having to eat then?’. And I cooked steak in the oven, I made rice pudding, and we sat down and watched television and it was never mentioned again!

Musings on generosity

It seemed to be a game with Paul and Linda. They would do things for people and then sit back and watch them fuck it up by themselves. [...] The rush head-long into these things and then when people flounder and fuck up, ‘Oh, well. Shit happens. Nevermind’. Buy Jim a big house, gibe him all the money in the world. Then take it away. And then give him allowance that you know he will have to struggle on to pay the bloody heating bills. [...] I had just recollected that Auntie Millie, Jim’s sister Millie, who was a real pal to Paul and Michael. When their mother died, she spent every single Monday and lot’s of other days besides taking care of them. In her final years, she became infirm and wasn't able to live alone any longer. She finished her days in a nursing home. And I was told by a close member of the family that Paul was very good. He payed half of the bill. Auntie Millie gave entire old age pension as her portion. They took her pension in its entirety and Paul payed the rest of the bill. Now wasn’t that generous of him. I could only think, why didn’t he pay her entire bill and let Auntie Millie keep her few pounds a week, her independence, so that she could buy toiletries and books and nuts for her grandchildren, chocolate for her grandchildren, when they visited. That half to me was just so strange.

Adult type compliment

At this stage I was probably around 13 years old and I was about the same size as I am now. I got out of the bathtub. I had a towel around me. A towel on my head and a towel around me and I got out of the bathroom. And I was walking around to the left … back into my bedroom. Paul was coming out of their room. … And he said ‘My, my, my. Look at you. You’re getting to be a big girl, you’re growing up, aren’t you?’ He patted me on the rump. And Linda heard him and there was just world war three. … I didn’t hear the exact words, but she had heard him paying me an adult type compliment, noticing the fact that I wasn’t little toothless, six-year-old Ruth anymore. …

[lastweeksshirttonight]

April is here and so is more looking back at the past ten seasons of Last Week Tonight. Wooo!

I'm going to aim to have Last Lee Tonight posted every week on Thursdays. Work is always a wrench in my plans but I'm pretty sure I can keep up that pace. They'll let me leave at some point right? hahaha help.

Now that the admin notes are out of the way, let's get cracking.

Last Lee Tonight (wherein John waited three episodes to dump music knowledge on us and honestly I'm impressed he waited that long) Season One, Episode Three

(original air date: 5/11/2014) Major topics covered: global warming; campaign finance and 2014 Senate political ads; Russia/Ukraine tensions

"History was made this week. ...Technically, history is made every week, that's kind of how history works."

We are still in that unique transitory period where John's team has figured out that longform segments are probably the way to go... but aren't really sure how to best utilize the rest of their show's time. The first two episodes were marked contrasts to each other structurally and were easier to compare. This third episode is all over the place, rushing through the first small segment on football, before covering a wide array of information and sources on Russian actions in around 8 minutes, which then gets us to our first main segment about ten minutes in. You can tell that the writers are still really trying to work out how to best structure their strange new show.

We start the episode talking about the first openly gay player in the NFL, Michael Sam, something I swear happened both earlier than and later than 2014. I fucking love that ESPN completely ignored the player in question's sexuality and just talked stats and genericisms. SPORTS!

We don't spend long there, as we move straight into discussing the present Ukranian/Russian tensions, first through the lens of Eurovision. I am truly shocked that John hasn't covered Eurovision every damn year, because it's the kind of overly theatrical camp nonsense he adores. We get a very Daily Show-esque bit where John grabs a paper way on the other side of his desk to quote Russia's entry, and it makes me sad that the audience barely registers it as a joke.

Also shit Conchita Wurst won Eurovision nearly ten years ago. I feel so fucking old.

Russia also recently annexed Crimea at the time, and John briefly covers the struggles Putin will have with the annexation. Putin is busy minting a two-pound commemorative coin over his 'victory', so we get a fake commercial for the "Worthless Desolate Landmass Commemorative Coin". This feels very much like a Bugle bit, complete with the satirical underpinning of acknowledging that Russia will actively make Crimeans' lives worse. And obviously Putin shirtless on a horse.

(I know that continually mentioning other things John has done that line up with these LWT bits probably seems a bit harsh or uncharitable, but LWT was clearly still trying to find a voice that wasn't cribbed from the two productions John was most associated with - to say nothing of the gigantic shadow The Colbert Report cast over every talking-head show in its wake. There's a lot of what I'd consider essential LWT that's been completely missing from these early episodes, from the common running gags of being a furry and shitting on his appearance, to a more unhinged level of social disruption and trolling, to even some of his linguistic choices - and that honestly makes sense. John has said multiple times that no one on the show had any idea what they were doing at this point, so why not pull from things that worked before?)

The first major story starts 10 minutes in, and regards campaign finance. The FEC has allowed bitcoin contributions to campaigns and jesus christ kill me now

Sorry. Campaign finance just innately pisses me off, and John gets me by basically saying "what else is left" while listing off all the campaign finance fuckery of the past few years at that time. I wish 2023 Me and 2023 John did not have to see what else was left.

John's joke about cribbing band names from the Kentucky Derby is gold. Tag yourself I'm California Chrome.

We get our first delightfully off impression of the series from John in this section - it's the rich evil Southern gentleman voice, in the form of Mitch McConnell threatening to kill people with a shovel over his love of coal. No amount of context will help me explain that better.

John also confirms that Mitch McConnell is not a homegrown Kentucky girl like his then-competitor, Alison Lundergan Grimes, by noting that "Politifact rates that true". I laughed so hard at that I had to pause. Please bring that gag back.

The Kentucky piece is overall worth watching, as it hits how campaign finance has influenced political advertising in ways directly detrimental to statewide and nationwide issues of import. The only part of this on YouTube is the capper, where John makes the most over-the-top and morally repugnant ads he can possibly think of. Trigger warning for gory violence including disembowelment, implied animal cruelty, and old man and middle-aged nudity. (Required note from this blog: it is not John Oliver nude. Fucking weirdoes, the lot of you [/j]) Link is here bc the video is, quite reasonably, age-restricted.

We now move to our very first "How Is This Still A Thing?", with the subject "Dressing Up as Other Races". Honestly no notes here, this segment came out the gate strong and basically in the same format it retains in the current day. (Seriously stop using other cultures as a costume.)

Finally, with five minutes left, we get to the segment Wikipedia thinks is the main one, on climate change. (The pacing of LWT Season One is a rollercoaster.) Global warming in 2014 threatens everything, yet 1 in 4 Americans think it doesn't exist. I would like to travel through time to scream at them and John thinks even talking about that kind of stat is fucking pointless. Bill Nye is brought on to have a statistically representative debate on the topic, which involves a random fuckload of people being on stage at once. I love the chaos but this is a very slim bit.

This was the weirdest episode to watch so far, I think. They took the lessons of the last episode and did attempt to apply them, but we aren't quite at the sweet spot of LWT pacing and structure yet. We'll get there eventually, I'm sure.

Random notes:

Lee obviously focuses on important things corner: After the absolute banger that was "red check pattern" last week, we return to neutral blue shirt and bubble-patterned navy tie. The unique tie elevates this to a 8/10 look, but one thing I cannot wait to get to is his "bold outfit choice" era of shit like silver suit and blue check shirt.

John describing bitcoin as something only "heroin dealers and assassins" use makes me yearn for the innocent time of 2014, when people were not trying to sell me every goddamn coin and ape doodle and metaverse on earth.

The YouTube team for this episode truly had no idea what to clip for this one. Their main segment doesn't have an authorized clip, and I don't know why they decided to take a 5 minute segment and make two clips out of it, an abbreviated version and a full version.

Speaking of weird shit on the LWT YouTube, have this 45 second bit of HBO selling the fuck out of their new show and John being obviously uncomfortable with it. However, in this clip he is, and I say this with a minimal amount of bias, hot as fuck. ("I'm no one's idea of a photogenic human being" SHUT UP MATE MY GOD)

I found this ad on their YouTube as well, which was very fun. Back when we expected some actual timely news discussion on LWT!

[sorryiwasasleep]

Personal rant

I started my final year of schooling last week and I’ve already missed 9 out of 11 classes so far. I’m burning up all my unexcused absences and I can’t even bring myself to care at all because I don’t want to be in this program getting this degree and I feel incredibly trapped and overwhelmed. I can’t make myself do the readings. I can’t make myself go to class. I can’t make myself care. I can’t seem to do anything at all but lay in bed. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this for another year. Fuck, I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this even just next week when I no longer can miss class without an excusal. And I can’t drop out anymore cause the deadline for full reimbursement passed, but also that was never a real option for me anyway cause dropping out would also likely mean moving home and that’s just as bad for my brain. Even right now I should be doing my readings for my class that’s at 3:30, but instead I’m typing this. Because I’m sad and I don’t care. But because I didn’t do the readings? I feel like I can’t go to class, so I WON’T which in turn is a problem cause I am using all my skips and I’m missing the first two weeks of class so I’m going to go in SO fucking confused next week probably. Shit shit shit shit fuck.

TW: weight discussion, emetophobia, eating disorder mention (just by name nothing specific), ARFID, depression, anxiety, apathy, mention of American politics

Heavier discussion below

I recently realized (i don’t have a scale in my apt) that I lost about 40 pounds in the span of about 5 months all from a combination of stress/my ADHD medication suppressing my appetite (vyvanse bitch ass doesn’t even work) and stress induced vomited and also vomiting because I treat my body like shit (don’t drink water, cope with unhealthy substances a lil too often, don’t eat anything remotely healthy, barely eat at all anymore if I’m being honest). I knew I’d lost some cause clothes were looser. I thought it was like 10. But no I know how much I weighed in March and it was a full difference of 40 and I know part of this stress and the stress induced vomiting are being caused by school and it’s like… I have another year. Am I just gonna keep wasting away? Something’s gotta give here and I know shit has to change but I have absolutely no drive to actually climb out of the hole I’ve buried myself in. I feel like there’s no point and that even if I crawl out, the world is the same and my family is the same and I’m still in this program and so nothing is actually different anyway. I just wanna let the dirt consume me. I wanna lay in my bed with a sitcom playing mindlessly in the background while I work on my silly little fanfictions until everything just stops except I lay in bed and don’t even do those things but am paralyzed by all the things I should be doing instead that I neglected because I didn’t care and I still don’t care enough to do it, but I feel bad enough to not do anything else either in that time. And I know that’s BAD and that having no motivation for anything is obviously super a ‘ur depression is worse girl’ (hi yea i fucking live inside this stupid head so I already fucking know that. @/my psych and parents). but I keep getting cancelled on or stood up by therapists and my psych has told me three appointments now shit like ‘Well what do you want me to do about?’ (Without even fucking considering something like uhhhhh… idk changing the meds I’m on? Since I’m at the max dose for my anti depressant and I’ve been on it for about half a year and I feel it stagnated because while it seemed to help when I started, now I’m worse? Like, I tell you I feel the worst I’ve ever felt in my entire life and you answer ‘And what do you want me to do?’ YOUR FUCKING JOB? Provide me with my options???? Not be a dick?) And she keeps saying I have to find a therapist because the meds only do so much (I had one but she went on maternity leave in January and then when she came back from it I was too broke to pay every week (which is what my bitch ass brain needs) and then when I wasn’t broke any longer she had ghosted me and she also was my provider for two years and never actually gave me any coping mechanisms so I kinda wanted a new one anyway). The psych did not like when I laughed at her and said “And will you fucking pay for it?” in response the first time she said it even though obviously I know she’s right.

My roommate told me the other day also that I need to get a therapist and that I have to focus my energy into that because she can’t listen to me say the same complaints anymore (she said it nicely, but like I’m crying rn thinking about it and will likely never feel safe to share with her anymore for worry of annoying her.) She also said she doesn’t think I want to help myself. That she wants me to get better and obviously it’s shit what’s happening but that I’m not doing the (what are to her obvious and to me impossible to actually do because of familial enmeshment and financial dependence) things that could maybe make things better. Even though… I AM trying to help myself. Yea it’s not the best I can be doing, but it’s as much as I can fucking manage given my surety that none of this matters and isn’t that worth something? I’ve been looking for a therapist since MAY. They keep standing me up or cancelling or they’re booked or they don’t take my insurance. I had five (5) telehealths where I got stood up. Starting therapy anew is already terrifying but when the person doesn’t show up it just feels like shit. It made me feel like they looked at my paperwork and decided I wasn’t fucked up enough when the reality is yea I held back slightly but that’s because I needed to know the vibes of the place first. That’s not what happened (for at least three appts anyway. The other two ghosted me also after so I never got explanation so maybe it did) but I still felt that way and for someone who already has a lot of problems with imposter syndrome and deep insecurities around being forgotten it really sucked and was incredibly unprofessional of any worker but especially mental health care professionals to do. I have one on Friday. Let’s hope this one doesn’t stand me up 🤞 Also, back to my ungodly amount of rapid weight loss, I did have 40 pounds that could’ve been shed and I am still not what would be consider ‘skinny’ but an average weight, so the worst part of this whole thing is that people are telling me i look GOOD now. Literally it was my MOM. She always implied I’m overweight and need to lose it and pretends like it’s ‘in your best interest honey’ meanwhile I can’t even do the fucking obligations I’m tied to? You think I can fucking do EXTRA? And yea I should use that kickboxing class that I bought, but not to lose weight mother, but because I’m not physically fit in that I cannot go up stairs without getting winded and because I have all the rage in the world (a portion of which goes to her!) and hitting things makes me feel better and it expires soon and was $40 I won’t get back. None of those reasons have to do with my weight, but if I mention I went to that class to her? She’s going to be SO excited on the phone, for all the wrong reasons thinking it’s me trying to get thin, when it’s me trying to get healthy. That is not equivalent to weight loss necessarily, as clearly evidenced here since I lost a shit ton unhealthily. This weekend I got a ‘Do you lose weight? Cause you look great!’ from her. 🫠🙄And i know that people would even more so do that if I do continue on this path of wasting away even though I’m actually unhealthier than I’ve ever been with my eating habits and the weight loss is a result of my depression and anxiety spiraling worse. How about we as a society stop fucking commenting on other peoples weight period full stop. Also it’s SAYING something that I’m the worst ever rn because food and I have always had a weird vibe. I recently learned what ARFID is and I’m fairly confident I’ve had that my entire life and just never had the name for it so that’s certainly something. Anyway idek what the point of this was other than for me to shout into the void because I was sad. If the void wants to shout back and tell me how I’m supposed to function in this life that’d be great cause I didn’t even HIT the state of the world and how that causes half my lack of motivation for anything in this post, but god the American political and legal landscape fill me dread and anxiety and anger and I can never escape them.

TLDR: I’m sad, I can’t bring myself to go to class at all in these first two weeks of classes. I need a therapist but they keep cancelling when I finally get an appointment and find one that accepts my insurance. My psych is kinda bad and my roommate was trying to help but did it in a way that hurt me more. I wanna drop out but can’t and also school is impacting my mental health so severely that I lost an extreme amount of weight in a short amount of time. Got complimented by mom even though I’m literally unhealthy. Separate from that but intertwined, I might have ARFID, possibly for my whole life and I am genuinely SHOCKED it never once was suggested by a medical professional to my parents when I was a child.

[favoriteanimal]

guided tour of your piercings please? where are they and what order did you get them in?

(thank you Derek!)

This may or may not work, but I'm trying to use a readmore because SOME of these are naughty

1&2: 1st lobes, left and right. I was probably 12?

3&4: 2nd lobes, left and right. Age 18, done the day I arrived at college.

5: triangle, the summer I turned 21. Bit of an abrupt ramp up in terms of intensity, I guess, but I knew what I wanted and didn't see a point in fucking around. This is, hands down, the most exquisitely painful thing I can remember having experienced.

6: septum! Later that same summer. Okay got the important one out of the way now we can just fuck around a bit

7: navel, I was 22 or barely 23? Zero pain, did not feel it, but it didn't fully heal until almost a year later (while I was recovering from top surgery - I had been messing with it too much and when I was in surgery-recovery mode I had enough going on that I left it the hell alone for a couple weeks). Also had my tongue done the same day but took it out less than 24 hours later, as it was swelling too much to heal properly (likely because I was still trying to walk a line where I wouldn't have to acknowledge my piercings around my family and pushed to have it pierced in a less obvious, suboptimal placement)

8&9: horizontal clitoral hoods, about four years ago I think. Got them done one after the other and I expected the second one to be easier since I had endorphins running - I was wrong. Now there's a lovely little stack of jewelry along the shaft of my dick and I'm genuinely extremely proud of it - tbh I'd get more if I wasn't pretty sure it'd be too crowded.

10&11: 6g cartilage punch in tops of ears, left and right, this last spring. A couple of months apart so I'd have a side of my head to sleep on while the other one healed, these were a pain in the ass for quite a while but finally fully healed when I was visiting Moss's family this October (again, just left the damn things alone for a bit). I love em, they're the only jewelry I change frequently because they're easy and don't poke me in the fingertips.

Would dearly love to have my nipples done, but am constantly concerned that their post-surgical shape won't be able to support a piercing... We'll see. I've genuinely thought about getting my nipples revised for that explicit purpose but that seems like a ten pound solution to a two ounce problem, you know?

[darnedchild]

I’m dumping my emotional guts here, please ignore if you just follow me for funny memes and fandom shit

Some of you may have noticed that I’ve been mostly absent and disengaged for a bit.  Truth is, I’m emotionally drained and barely keeping my head up enough to care about anything going on outside of my home and immediate family.  And I have been for so long I’ve stopped counting.

Just for the highlights over the last few months -

My son has been having issues in one of his classes at school.  It was like pulling teeth to get his teachers to communicate with us about what they were seeing on their end; but eventually we had enough information to push to get the Demon Spawn evaluated and he was diagnosed with inattentive ADHD.  I’m not going to go into the details but I will say that the “F” this specific teacher had been threatening him with all semester was suddenly an “A” when we were able to put in an official request for a 504.  My husband, myself, my sister who teaches the same grade in a different district, and my therapist (all 100% biased, obviously) agree that it feels like we’ve been gaslit. 

His teachers noted in the evaluation forms that my son is demonstrably depressed, anxious, feels isolated, and thinks no one likes him at school.  That was the first time I’d heard ANY of that.  I knew my son was anxious and sensitive, but there is a HUGE step from what we see at home and what they wrote on his evaluation forms.  His teachers are our eyes and ears during the school day, they see my son when he’s not dealing with his emotionally damaged mother who is trying her best not to show her son how anxious and scared she is while he does the exact same because we both want the other to just be happy.  They recognized and identified all this devastating stuff about my child and didn’t tell us.  I have been informed that there are “reasons” the teachers might not have feel comfortable approaching us directly but I’m pretty sure this is exactly the kind of thing a school counselor is for.

I was a depressed, anxious, isolated child.  I very clearly remember what it was like.  And I damn sure do not want my kid to go through that.  If something tragic had happened and they knew he was on the edge of crisis and they didn’t tell us... I don’t even want to think about it.

One of my best friends died last year.  Her birthday was in February.  I did not handle the lead up to that well.  And in just a week or so it’s going to be the first anniversary of her passing.  I am definitely not dealing well with that.  I got a little note from the family, written by her mother, two weeks ago.  It’s been almost a year since she died and the family is still using the old address labels that include my friend’s name along side her husband’s (different last names), her mom crossed out her daughter’s name.  Maybe, maybe toss those labels out and get new ones so that people don’t break into tears the second they see their dead best friend’s name scratched out with a fucking black pen?

And the final highlight of this shit parade is that my 15 year old baby kitten Bellatrix was just diagnosed with stage IV kidney disease.  We took her to the vet because she’d lost some more weight (down to just over six pounds) and it was yearly shot time anyway, so why not draw some blood and see what’s going on?  She’s dying, that’s what’s going on.  Fun phone call - the vet, my husband, and me on speaker phone.  All three of us audibly sniffling away tears while we discussed palliative care options and best case scenarios and how much time do we have left with her?  The answer is not enough.  Never enough.  She turns 16 this year.  Would turn 16, but the vet insists we understand that the likelihood of her reaching her birthday is extremely low. 

I rescued her neurotic, balding butt when she was 11 months old.  My son has never known life without Bella.  She let him pull her hair with his chubby, sticky fingers and give her slobbery open-mouthed toddler kisses and use her has a pillow when he didn’t feel well, with only her usual “See what I put up with” side-eye in complaint.  If I’m sick, she’s at my side.  If I’m upset or anxious, she somehow knows.  She’s sleeps at the head of my bed (sometimes with her fur pressed against my face) and snores like a sputtering chainsaw. 

We haven’t told my son yet.  He had a big thing last weekend and we didn’t want him to forever associate that memory with finding out.  Our plan is to tell him this weekend so we can make sure he has a day or two to deal with his feelings before he has to go back to school.  I feel guilty about keeping it from him, though. 

And I’ve spent the last week wondering if this cuddle will be the last, so... yeah.

[rukistarz]

✩ STAR DIARY - entry four - 20.2.23 ✩

6:19 pm

im on day 9 of my liquid fast and the cravings are getting like…really bad. im not planning to give in, obviously, but i can’t help but feel like shit for wanting to eat already when i’ve barely made a dent in my fast, you know ? it makes me feel less than, and pathetic. but im so determined to prove myself wrong and show myself that i can continue on, ignore these stupid cravings and complete my fast like i planned. im tired of being a failure. i will reach my ugw, and i will be successful and happy.

im currently at my lowest weight (124.4), which is great, and it keeps dropping, but i still feel really really fat. like, i can physically feel all of the excess fat on my body and it makes me feel horrible. the thing is tho, it’s not just a feeling, it’s actually there. like, my love handles are still there and they obscure my body in a disgusting way way. my thighs are unbelievably huge, as well as my arms.

it’s ironic because when i was like, twenty pounds heavier, i thought i’d be so skinny at this weight. but im not. i feel like i will finally feel okay, and not so fat when i get to 110 and lower, because i haven’t seen anyone my height being fat at that size. though, the possibility is still there, if feeling fat and gross, you know ? idk

anyway, im going out with my best friend tomorrow, and im really excited for multiple reasons. we haven’t seen each other in over a month, so im looking forward to meeting again. my birthday was on the 1st feb, her’s is on the 29th, so we always meet up during the middle to have a joint b-day celebration, and we’ll be exchanging gifts too. im excited for her to see what i got her, because i really went all out, and im excited to see what she got me. i feel like she probably got me an album or something, which would be cool because i got her two, so we can unbox them together. i also got her other bits and bobs, and a really funny birthday card that i think she’ll thoroughly enjoy.

though, im not planning on eating anything tomorrow, obviously. and the worst thing is, that she knows about my ed, so she’ll probably know that things are bad. she won’t pry or anything, but i know that she’ll figure it out. i feel bad, because i usually omad when we go out, but i cant this time. im also really scared that i might trigger her one day in some way, because she also struggles with body image, too. like, i don’t vent about my ed to anyone, especially in depth, but she knows about it already, and she’ll see my weight-loss and me turning down food, you know ? i just don’t want her to experience anything like this ever.

we’re going to a cat cafe, and i think i might just order a hot chocolate and drink that and when we go out to get food, i’ll say it made me nauseous and i cant eat, or something. i could also say that im on my period, which makes the sickly feeling even worse, and much more believable. granted, im not sure if we’ll go get food after, anyway, because she said she’ll probably get a pastry there, and idk if she’ll feel hungry after that. but it’s whatever, i have my plan in mind. im also glad because we’ll be doing a bunch of window shopping and walking a lot, and i wanna burn a lot of cals from the hot chocolate, you know ?

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

11:22 pm

my mind won’t stop thinking about something my sister said to me a few weeks back.

i was weighing myself and she walked in on me and decided to weigh in too, i was about 128 at that time, and she weighed in at about 180.

she said she wished that she was my size instead, but then went on to say that we’re not that far apart in weight.

which is true, however…that shit literally triggered me so bad.

like, does she think we look the same or something ?

like, no shade to her, i love her and all…it’s just, it fucked with me and it won’t leave my head.

honestly though, it’s crazy motivation because, she wants to lose weight, but refuses to change her eating habits. she always hounds me and my other sister (who has been going to the gym and eating healthily) for trying to lose weight (my family think im on a diet) and how it makes her feel insecure since we’re already skinny in her eyes.

i cant wait to see her again once im at my ugw and for her jaw to drop lmao, her as well as my other sister who’s trying to lose weight too, i want to surpass her and lose weight faster. i also want to be the skinniest in the family too, so this 100 day fast kinda like killing three birds with one stone.

✩ blessing you with a starry night, ruki ✩

[amatisherondaale]

sex and the city season 6 episode 11. the domino effect. one of my oldest passwords. lovers from the past who find their way into the present. you could draw some parallels, I was thinking to myself in the shower. the height difference for one. it turns out he's 2.07, not 2.10 like I remember. turns out he lied about being 2.10. turns out I was right about his father the art smuggler. turns out that father fucked him up pretty bad.

still, the first time we saw each other I left thinking that he was freakishly tall. I got all dressed up and left the house with nothing but a handful of dictator-themed cat names - miao zedong, paw pot, margaret cat-cher, bill or hillary claw-nton. I decided against bringing the 25 euro bouquet and what a good decision that was; I basked in the beauty of those colors for the next week and 5 days. I arrived with my heart almost pounding out of my chest and I made a beeline for the kitten, I could barely look him in the eyes. we spoke over his homemade chicken pot pie and I couldn't even tell you what exactly we spoke about. his father's alcoholism, that being the reason he's never had a drink, his boarding school antics, his therapy sessions, his painfully millennial tattoo ideas, our jobs, books, turkish names. and just when we reached the topic of turkish names is when he leaned in to kiss me. and I froze. I pulled away. it made the rest of the evening, what little was left of it, palpably awkward. I missed the last bus and I walked home. he offered to walk me but I told him I'd be okay and I was. sometime that night I made a bold attempt to air my grievances but I just couldn't get the words out. I can't tell if it was my body or my mind that conspired against me but again, I froze. all I could think was that maybe I am better in writing after all. so I confirmed in writing that he could count me in for the jasmine tea order.

a week later, I mustered up the courage to very vaguely tell him over text that I had regrets about my past. big whoop, so does everyone else. I told him that he just happened to be the unlucky "first time" I burdened with this confession. it wasn't too bad. I decided I'd just forget about the whole thing.

fast forward to a sleepless, jet lag riddled saturday morning where, with the dawn, dawned my sudden interest in picking up my jasmine tea. we agreed on sunday evening. now, if Lina was my awakening to zodiac signs, this encounter marked my awakening to the power of manifestation. just as I'm walking to my workout class in my four day old, rosemary oiled hair with my bare face, contact lenses and uncomfortably exposed midriff, it just so happens that I'm not wearing earbuds and I hear a familiar voice that I don't immediately register as familiar. my head swivels to the left towards the source of the voice, my eyes land on bleached blond hair and long limbs, and my head snaps right in the same instant. there he is, sitting along the canal, mid-conversation with some girl. I pick up my pace and I'm out of his eyesight in the next instant. my face must be turning beet red as I bury it in my hands and speed walk across the bridge. I pray he didn't see me and pray that, if he did, he didn't recognise me. no glasses, no makeup; I console myself with Dietmar's comment about my glass-less appearance, I might be safe.

now it's sunday evening and I settle on my white linen pants and my fuchsia tank top. this time I know exactly which bus stop to get off at and exactly which doorbell to ring and I arrive with my heart slightly more contained. he offers me a cup of jasmine tea and I happily accept. over tea, we talk about my trip to new york and how I returned empty handed, about his upcoming trip to london, and what he got up to over the weekend. I don't mention that I saw him and take his version of events as confirmation that he didn't see me. I no longer care if he did. I announce that I'll come with chocolate chip cookies next time, so as not to arrive empty handed again, and this reminds him of the box of crushed cookies he has from salvo and now I can sort of piece together his morning. the conversation flows. I confess that I don't have a kettle and we bond over our trash bag situations. I tell him about my favorite type of souvenir ("my _blank_ went to new york and all I got was this lousy t-shirt") and the hamptons and he compliments my tan. the kitten's name is gene and he's gotten so big. actually, he tells me, the kitten's gender is still unclear so the name might change to louise if she's a girl. he shows me a video of gene's favorite game, which involves sliding him across the floor like a curling stone. he was watching the england-slovakia game in bed with gene when I arrived and offers to bring out his laptop for us to watch the final minutes together so we do. england wins 2-1 in extra time and I decide it's time for me to head home. I pack my tea and get up to say goodbye. he tells me had a nice time (yes, "nice", I hate it too) and, hesitating, asks if he can kiss me. I say yes and this time I kiss him back. we decide it'd be best if I stayed and joined him and gene in bed to "watch" the spain-georgia game. and so, with laptop in hand, he lifts me up, I wrap my legs around him, and he carries me to the bedroom. and yes, we narrowly bump our heads on the door frame. I won't go too much into details but we catch very little of the game. I finally build up the nerve to say my piece when I'm on top of him. you knew I was 18 when we first met, right? a pause. he did but assumed I was already in college and didn't find out until later that I was still in high school. until I mentioned that I'd recently had my prom; this must've been around the time of the extracurricular math classes. I nod. 18 and two weeks. his face contorts into an expression resembling regret. i tell him it's okay. we continue with the Q&As. we calculate our age difference. he grimaces again. I confess that I went through a tough time and that I don't even have a good excuse for it. he tells me I don't need to. I ask about arthaud without ever mentioning his name, mostly because I'm still not sure how to pronounce it. they're still very close friends. in fact, they saw each other the day before. he seems to practice radical honestly and I practice my own fucked up version of it. it's completely liberating. I ask every question that comes to my mind. the satisfaction brings me back. I tell him I don't know if I can go all the way; he doesn't seem to mind (in a good way). he's seeing an italian woman once a week. spain wins 4-1. I take narcissistic pleasure in the whole situation.

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 16

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 16

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3100 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14  Part 15

gif credit: @benbarnxs

Part 16

You were straddling Billy, riding him, your hips undulating atop his body. His fingers tightly gripped your waist, getting ready to take charge so you were underneath him, but you refused to submit. Instead you grabbed his hands and pinned it above his head. As you hovered above him, he arched up to kiss you but you shifted back, instead staring down at him intently. He growled at you before he rolled over unexpectedly, taking you along with him.

As he thrust into you, harder and rougher each time, you began to slide off the bed. In your new position, you caught sight of Adam on the floor. His corpse was wrapped up in a rug, only his head sticking out-

“Hey.” Billy pulled you up so you were now sitting across his lap, facing him. “Look at me. Only me.”

Only a few seconds ago he was biting you as you clawed at him, both of you desperate to possess each other. Your movements had been savage, animalistic even, but now Billy was kissing you languidly, his hand brushing the back of your hair while the other settled on the small of your back. You were directing the rhythm of the thrusts now, setting a slower pace so you could fully enjoy the feel of his cock stretching your insides oh-so-tantalizingly. Your forehead braced against his, you closed your eyes and lost yourself to the flood of emotions that overcame you.

***

It was after midnight. Billy had come home with you and both of you were in bed, you nestled against him while he spooned you from behind. Even though you were tired, you couldn’t sleep. Your brain was working overtime processing everything that happened in the last few hours. He stirred next to you, dropping a tender kiss on your bare shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured. You may have been fully alert but he sounded absolutely exhausted.

“Are you sure they’ll be thorough with the cleaning?”

“Yeah.” Throwing his arm over you, he covered your hand with his. “These guys are not amateurs. They know what they’re doing. There won’t be any traces of us left in that room.”

“And Adam’s body-”

“Will be disposed of.”

“But how do you know you can trust these guys? What’s stopping them from blackmailing-”

“’cause money talks, babe. That crew is very well paid.” He squeezed your palm. “I’ve used them in the past. No trouble yet.”

With his military career you were already aware of his violent past, but you also sensed he had a long hit list aside from that. When he’d realized your plans for Adam, he hadn’t been remotely shocked at the idea of you killing another person. In fact, as you stabbed Adam repeatedly, Billy had looked at you with such pride and reverence that it had left you breathless.

“What we did tonight, you know what that means, don’t you?”

His voice brought you out of your reverie. You exhaled a deep breath, drawing circles on his palm. “That we’re bad people.”

“No, we’re survivors. We take down anyone who gets in our way.”

“He didn’t come after you,” you reminded him. “You didn’t have to get involved.”

He turned you around to face him. “Nobody threatens you and gets to live after that.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. When he looked at you with such intensity, you were almost ready to believe anything.

He cradled your face, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. “We’re connected now. Forever. Because of tonight.”

You didn’t understand how his words could evoke such conflicting emotions within you. On one hand your stomach fluttered with excitement, he was saying things you’d wanted to hear for a long time, but then there was the fear. Doubt. Uncertainty. You forced a smile, hoping some levity would lighten the situation. “You make it sound like we’re married or something.”

Disgust flooded over his face. “Fuck, no. Marriages end. One day you’re bragging about being in love, next it’s all over. It’s not based on anything real. But we are.” He reached for your hand, which was resting on the pillow between you and him, and intertwined his fingers through yours. “I saw you tonight, the real you. And you saw me. No pretenses, no boundaries. And you didn’t run. You didn’t even flinch.”

“Neither did you.” You lifted your eyebrow. “You were rock hard.”

“I always am around you.”

His words made the heat rise in your cheeks, which he noticed right away. Giving you a teasing smile, he leaned in closer to give you a peck on the cheek. “Are you blushing?”

“Shut up.”

Billy’s eyes remained locked on you, simply staring at you with sleepy eyes. “I don’t like who I was when I thought I lost you. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t work. Every time I closed my eyes I imagined you fucking this other guy, kissing him. Even the thought of you talking to him made me want to burn it all down.”

Your heart ached at how tired he looked. Scooting closer, you started massaging his forehead. When he closed his eyes, you dropped a gentle kiss on each of his eyelids, the beauty mark just below his right eye, before snuggling him tightly in your arms. “Sleep, Billy.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” he murmured drowsily.

You smiled. “It is my apartment.”

He didn’t respond, already fast asleep. You tried to do the same but couldn’t; there were too many thoughts running around in your brain. You had assumed you’d feel guilty about taking a life; you didn’t. You remembered the vicious, contemptuous anger in Adam’s eyes when he’d held you at gunpoint, and how he’d threatened to kill others in your team, and all you felt was relief. Relief that he was dead and no longer a danger to you.

Billy stirred next to you, drawing your attention. You reached out to hold him, your touch feather-light so as not to wake him up. He looked calm and peaceful, unlike the haunted and distraught way he appeared earlier in the hotel room. It was still hard to digest that he’d been so unhinged at the thought of losing you. But the thing that resonated with you the most was that he hadn’t been able to hurt you despite all of the anger he’d felt. Growing up the way you had, you were always on alert for things to turn violent at any moment. One wrong comment or an innocent gesture - hell even a lone pair of sock on the floor - had the potential to trigger your father’s temper and turn things violent. During those moments his rage was uncontrollable, and as a result you always worried about how people reacted when they were furious. The fact that Billy hadn’t hit you even though he’d been completely enraged made you realize you were physically safe with him.

Maybe emotionally as well. For so long you’d had difficulty believing he could reciprocate your feelings yet you couldn’t ignore how devastated he’d been. Nor could you rationalize away his emotions. It still felt surreal but he did truly care about you, and the thought filled you with warmth and made your heart soar with happiness.

You brushed your lips against his, hoping Billy’s comforting presence next to you would help you relax. However, fifteen minutes later sleep still alluded you. Eventually you decided to do something useful and work instead. Carefully sliding out of bed so you didn’t disturb him, you tip-toed out of the bedroom. Immediately you felt the soreness in your body, an after effect of the rough sex you had with Billy in the hotel room earlier. Grabbing a nearby throw, you were soon nestled in your favourite spot on the chaise lounge, working away on your laptop.

An hour later you heard footsteps behind you and you turned around to find Billy yawning, clad in boxers, his hair all ruffled.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” he grumbled.

You scooted over to give him space to sit on the chaise but he seemed to have other ideas in mind as he took a seat behind you. You found yourself settled between his legs, your back nestled against his chest, as he caressed down the length of your arms.

“I couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well do something useful.”

“What corporate shit are you working on?” he teased, playfully grabbing your laptop to look at your screen. You smacked his arm right away, shutting the screen and pushing the laptop away.

Billy purposely rubbed his face against the base of your neck and you started giggling at the sensation of his prickly beard on your bare skin. “Stop,” you whined. “It tickles.” you squealed loudly, trying to jump out of his arms but he held you in a tight grip.

Finally he stopped, and as you struggled to catch your breath, you slapped his arm playfully. “You’re such a jerk.”

He chuckled, hugging you tightly from behind. “That’s for ignoring all my calls since Tuesday.”

“I’m still not unblocking your number,” you retorted. His beard scraped along your shoulder, making you squeal again. “Okay, fine. Sorry!”

“Swear that you’re not gonna block me again.”

You turned around in his arms, resting on your knees as your arms looped around his neck. Smiling down at him, you nuzzled your nose with his. “Swear that you won’t act like an asshole again.”

“Can’t really do that.”

“Exactly.” He tucked your hair behind your ear. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the tender affection on his face, the warmth of his gaze spreading slow, languid heat throughout your body. “You should go back to bed. You still look tired.”

“I’ve had a rough week.”

You pouted your lips. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Want to make it up to me?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow at you.

”How? By sucking you off?” you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

“Move in with me.”

Your hands stilled on him, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. At first you thought he was joking but the solemn expression on his face made you realize otherwise. You moved away, putting much needed distance between the two of you.

“That’s not funny, Billy.”

Maintaining a rigid posture on the chaise lounge, he shrugged his shoulders. “Not meant to be. I’m dead serious.”

“You know that’s ridiculous, right?”

“Why? ‘cause I wanna keep you safe?”

“The threat is gone. I took care of it.”

“We took care of it,” he said pointedly. “A threat which you didn’t even tell me about.”

“I explained that to you already.” Feeling defensive, you started pacing the floor. “You promised you’d have your guy stop tailing me.”

“Sure. As soon as I know you’re not gonna keep things from me again. You moving in will help with that.”

“So if I don’t move in, you’ll have me followed 24/7?” Anger surged through you, you were so furious you wanted to scream. “That’s fucking blackmail.”

“Relax. No need to be so dramatic about it.”

You grabbed the closest cushion you had and flung it at him, enraged by his patronising tone. “We barely know each other-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he interjected, finally moving to stand up. His eyes were pitch black, his jaw clenched. “You and I killed someone tonight! You took my hand, my knife, and we stabbed the bastard in the heart with it, together. We fucked while he drew his last breath and now you’re feeding me this bullshit?” He stormed towards you. “No! I’ve seen your darkness and you’ve seen mine. There’s no one else in this world that knows us better than we know each other.”

You shook your head, flabbergasted by his reaction. “This is insane. I can’t move in with you. We haven’t even gone out on a real date because you said I was boring!”

“If you believe that then you really are a fucking idiot!”

You stiffened, his words ringing in your ear. Fucking idiot. Something your father used to call you repeatedly, his tone full of hate and vitriol when he lashed out at you. It started with a fucking idiot then spiralled into bitch and whore and everything else hurtful under the sun. You swore to yourself you’d never accept being spoken to like that by another person yet here you were, being insulted again by someone who was supposed to care about you.

You retreated back from Billy, careful to keep your distance from him, and leveled him with a cold glance. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.” 

Your voice may have been deceptively calm but there was a storm brewing inside you. You desperately needed some space. As you moved away from Billy and headed to the kitchen, he tried to block your path but you immediately pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!”

You quickly sidestepped past him and entered the kitchen, heading for the cabinet where you kept your bottle of whiskey. Pouring yourself a glass, you slowly sipped the liquid to soothe your frayed nerves and forget the memories Billy had just unleashed in you.

***

Even as the words left his mouth, Billy knew he’d made a mistake. He regretted what he said instantly, even more so when he realized how much the words had stung you. The last thing he wanted was to cause you pain but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The more he tried to hold on to you the more you slipped through his fingers.

After giving you a few minutes to calm down, he entered the kitchen behind you. You were standing in the opposite corner, drinking the hard stuff, which further signalled how shaken you were. Billy knew Scotch wasn’t something you enjoyed, you only drank it when you were messed up.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that. It won’t happen again. I swear.”

You didn’t acknowledge him, and it hurt like hell.

“When I think about you pulling away from me, it makes me lose my mind.” He swallowed audibly, desperately trying to get through to you. “I’m all in when it comes to us but it feels like you always have one foot out the door.” He took hesitant steps towards you while your eyes still remained on the countertop, refusing to meet his gaze. “I keep fucking up but I’ve never felt this way before. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just can’t lose you, Y/N.”

“I’m not built like you, Billy,” you finally spoke, turning to look at him. “I have doubts. I’m constantly dealing with insecurities. It takes me time to trust people, and I just can’t rush into things head-on.”

“And I’m someone who hustles. I go after everything I want with guns blazing. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have Anvil.”

“But I’m not a thing, Billy. I’m a person, and you can’t push me into doing stuff I’m not ready for.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh. “I know. It’s ‘cause I get paranoid when it comes to you. You’re a closed book and you never tell me anything.” His eyes scanned yours, his stomach clenched with anxiety. “I don’t even know how you feel about me.” It was the first time he’d voiced that thought, something he didn’t even realize he felt until this very moment. You wanted him, that he knew, and you’d even confessed you loved him once but he didn’t really believe in that bullshit. What mattered to him was if you needed him as much as he did you. The idea of not having you in his life drove him insane, but did you feel the same way? He didn’t think so and it bothered the fuck out of him.

You set your glass down on the counter before reaching out to cradle his face, your soulful eyes meeting his emotional gaze. “I want to be with you, Billy. I like you so much that it scares me.”

Your words brought with them a tidal wave of relief that swept over him like a calm breeze. It was like he could breathe again. He pulled you close, his forehead against yours as he simply held you. “Don’t be scared, babe. I don’t bite.”

“That is a complete fucking lie,” you retorted. “I still have the marks from earlier to prove it.” Your smile faded again as you held his stare. “But I need you to be patient with me. You can’t bully me or get mad if I don’t want to rush into things.”

He nodded his head. “I won’t.”

“I’ve only ever had myself to rely on. And the thought of trusting you? Relying on you? It scares the hell out of me. Because there’s always a voice in my head that’s reminding me I need to go back to being alone when we end things.”

“I need to kill that voice.”

You chuckled, reaching out to loop your arms behind his back. “It shuts up eventually. It did in the hotel room when I saw how fucked up you were without me. That’s when it sunk in you actually do like me.”

“It took you that long to believe it?”

You gave him a sad smile. “Yeah. You did tell me I was boring.”

He groaned right away, regret washing over him. He should never have said those fucking words to you. “You’re not boring. You’re smart. And hot.” He kissed your left cheek. “And sweet. And funny. And mine.” Then the right cheek. “And when you lecture me about cybersecurity, I get so hard.”

“Whatever. You’re the one who wanted to know more about the topic,” you grumbled.

He grinned, giving you a tender peck on the lips. “I can listen to you talk for hours and hours-“

“Shut up.” You pressed your palm over his mouth.

Wrapping his arms around you, he lifted you off the ground and started carrying you back to the bedroom. “Forever actually, if you’re naked.”

“Not once have I lectured you naked.”

He dropped you on the bed. “Yeah, exactly. Time you start.” He jumped into bed, rubbing his beard on your face again as you started squealing.

A few minutes later you were both panting for air, staring up at the ceiling. “Just to make it clear, I’m not moving in,” you huffed through laboured breaths.

He turned to look at you, smirking. “Fine, but I’m taking you out tonight. Proper date and all.”

The most beautiful smile graced your face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You were a ray of sunshine beaming up at him and Billy’s heart felt so full he worried it would explode. If he could, he’d freeze this moment forever.

Part 17

A/N - As always, your wonderful feedback is what keeps me inspired to write and post consistently. I was initially nervous about this chapter because the characters experience a gamut of emotions but it was necessary. I hope you like and enjoy this chapter. Feedback, as always, is very much appreciated and feeds my soul :)

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[hyuckshaze]

zoom shenanigans - l.dh

✩‌ haechan ‌x‌ ‌fem!reader‌ ‌|‌ boyfriend!haechan | smut | ‌1.6k+ words ✩

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ you don’t quite know how hyuck convinced you to sit on him while in a class zoom call

WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ exhibitionism, unprotected sex, dom!sub themes, asphyxiation, edging/overstimulation, spitting, slight humiliation, degradation (use of words such as whore, slut etc.), dumbification, slight dacryphylia, salirophilia, dirty talk - basically pure and absolute filth!

AUTHOR’S NOTES ⇾ i couldn’t stop thinking about this throughout the entirety of my online classes today, so i just had to write about it to get it off my chest. i am an absolute slut when it comes to dom!hyuck, so this is just self-indulgence really. enjoy! not proofread so please message if there’s any errors, or anything missing from the warning list! - lex

You don’t quite know how Hyuck convinced you to sit on him while in a class zoom call. 

He’d driven you insane. You’d been sat on his cock since the start of your lesson, for which your teacher, thank God, had decided that cameras did not need to be on. The class only lasted an hour, with you sitting on his lap in his gaming chair because ‘your desk chair just isn’t comfy enough, Y/N’, according to him anyway. You thought your desk chair was perfectly comfy, but he insisted. 60 minutes doesn’t seem all that long in the grand scheme of things, but with a boyfriend as evil as Donghyuck, of course he knew just how to make that hour feel like an eternity, teasing you relentlessly throughout. His lips brushing against your ear as you tried your hardest to complete the set work, whispering unspeakable promises into your ear and sending dark shivers down your spine. Though you couldn’t see his face, you knew the exact expression that was plastered on his face as his wandering hands roamed your body, squeezing and pinching all the spots that he knew would have you squirming in his hold. By far, the most infuriating thing he would do, though, was to snake his hand around your body whenever you had to turn your microphone on, fingers rubbing your clit in circles that had you biting back loud and sensual moans, managing to suppress the noises down to sighs which, as a University student, were not all that uncommon to hear. 

It’s when the time hits 11:50am, exactly 10 minutes before the end of the lesson (you know because you began checking it, what seemed like, every few seconds, sensing his growing impatience), that his self-control evaporates. With a raspy grunt, his hand wraps around your neck and he thrusts up into you, hard, fast and rough. You gasp, face contorting in pleasure at the sudden movements which have you crying out and grasping at the desk in front of you in order to stay upright. You whine as his grip on your neck tightens, pulling you back towards his chest in one, swift movement. A yelp escapes your lips, now blindly grabbing at the armrests on either side of the chair in order to stop your legs from giving out. Not that you’d go anywhere, Hyuck’s rigid grip on you made sure of that. His hot breath against the back of your neck caused goosebumps to form on your exposed skin, a shudder going through your body at the overwhelming amount of pleasure. His hand on your neck pushes your jaw backwards, the back of your head resting on his shoulder as he looks down at your flushed face, tears of pleasure collecting at the corners of your wide and innocent eyes, perfect pink lips parted so beautifully, not to mention the dream-worthy sounds escaping them. How could he have ended up with such a perfect little girl? His hand moves for only a split second from your neck, squeezing your cheeks together in order to open your mouth. He spits harshly into your now open mouth, pressing your cheeks shut again afterwards. You let out a sudden and uncontrollable moan at the sound of him doing such a filthy thing, feeling his spit hit your tongue forcefully. You know what he wants. You close your mouth and swallow, his hand creeping back down towards your neck as you show him your empty mouth.

“That’s my good girl.” He rasps, giving a tight squeeze to your neck once more.

With your eyes squeezed so tightly shut, you almost forget that you’re supposed to be listening to your Biomedical Sciences lecturer drone on about Haematology and Transfusion. Almost.

“Right, now that’s done, everyone turn your cameras on for this last task. We’re going to be going through the homework assignment that I set for you all last week, don’t think you can get away without speaking either! I’m gonna be asking you all questions about the task.” His words barely register in your mind, your head fuzzy and body shaking at the feeling of your boyfriend rearranging your insides so delectably. After a few moments, his words seem to sink in and your eyes shoot open, urgently whispering Hyuck’s name. There was no way you could turn on your camera, you’d have to lie. I dropped my laptop; my WiFi is lagging; my room is a mess. A thousand ways to excuse yourself ran through your mind, albeit at a much slower pace than usual. You could only focus so much through the feeling of Haechan fucking into you so hard and fast. Your desperate whines of his name are interrupted as he hums into your ear, not slowing his hips or showing any sign of stopping. If anything, it becomes even harder to think at his words.

“We both know that’s not what you call me when I’m fucking you, baby.” He growls into your ear, pounding into you with even more force, rendering you barely capable of thinking, let alone talking. Your walls clench tightly around his hard cock, a string of curses escaping your boyfriend’s pink lips as he grunts loudly at the feeling.

“M-my professor s-said-” You start, barely able to string a sentence together.

“I heard what your professor said, baby. Turn on your camera. Show your entire class how much of a filthy little slut you are for me. Show them how this perfect A* student cums all over my dick, huh? You’d like that wouldn’t you? Everyone seeing the perfect little teachers pet coming all over her boyfriends cock during her class? Everyone seeing how fucking dumb you get for my dick?” You bite your lip, holding back a scream. You can’t, however, stop a broken whimper from escaping you.

“Fuck! Yes, yes, yes, yes! Please, oh my God!” The hand that isn’t clutching your neck so tightly moves downwards, fingers brushing your clit so delicately.

“Please... Please what, slut?” He spits, tears now leaking down your face, chest shaking as you hold in overwhelmed sobs.

“Please Daddy!” You cry out, mascara beginning to smudge as you clench your eyes shut so tightly. You no longer care about your waiting professor, you no longer care about the entire class, it’s only Haechan. He is all you can feel and think.

“Y/N, we’re waiting on you to turn your camera on...” Your professor presses, but you don’t even hear him. It’s only when your boyfriend stops all of his movement, hand slipping away from your throat, reaching down and reclining his gaming chair into a laying position, that you realise what he wants.

“No, no, no. Please, Hyuckie!” You whine, head spinning at the loss of movement. He’s laying practically flat now, out of view of the camera. You try to move, rolling your hips atop his dick but his fingers dig into your hips hard, almost painfully, as he holds you in place, smirking up at your shaking figure with mirth.

“Go on, baby. Turn on your camera.” He warns, fingers digging even harder into your hips. You send him an exasperated look, to which he gives you the look. You know what that means. ‘Do as I fucking say, or you’ll regret it’. 

Your shaky hands reach over to the laptop, clicking the camera button as you let out an uneven breath. After a few seconds, your face appears on the screen. Your eyes widen. What your boyfriend had failed to inform you, was that your face was flushed and sweaty, mascara smudging your cheeks in obvious tear streaks, a drop of his spit glittering as it sat upon your chin. You wiped your face on your sleeve as soon as you catch sight of yourself, moving forward to pretend to be sorting a non-existing wire behind your screen as you try to make yourself look more presentable. As you do so, you hear his voice whisper.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you called me just then and don’t think you’re getting away with it. ‘Hyuckie’ doesn’t fuck you the way Daddy does.” His low tone causes you to clench around him, taking a deep breath at his teasing words. He scoffs at your silence, squeezing your ass, hard, so that you let out a small whimper. He hums in satisfaction as you plaster an obviously fake smile onto your face before leaning back, clicking on the unmute button for only a moment before abruptly turning it off again, barely having finished your sentence, as Haechan’s rock hard dick twitches inside your sensitive pussy.

“Sorry, Professor. I had tech issues.” 

✩  ✩   ✩

Those last 8 minutes of class felt like an eternity, and your boyfriend made sure of that. You thought you’d done a pretty good job at hiding it, though. Not one person gave you a funny or disgusted look as you answered the Professor’s questions and kept a small, albeit forced, smile on your face. You couldn’t help but feel a twisted form of pride at your ability to pretend as though nothing was happening as you sat atop of Hyuck’s dick, enduring his endless verbal and physical teasing throughout.

It wasn’t until after the two of you were finished, long after the class had done so, that your boyfriend checked his phone

“Y/N...” You heard him call from the bathroom. You couldn’t find the energy to move, simply humming in acknowledgement at his hesitant-sounding call. He enters the bedroom in all his naked glory, carrying a small, wet cloth in order to clean you up in one hand, his phone in the other. Your eyes trace his naked body, focusing on the smooth, tanned skin. He really was a sight for sore eyes, somebody that you could never get tired of looking at. You’re disrupted from staring at his body when he holds his phone out in front of your face. You reluctantly tear your eyes from his torso, focusing in on the brightly lit screen, squinting slightly to read the text upon it.

“ 

MESSAGES

Jaemin

fucking your gf during her zoom class, nice one bro. though, you might wanna make sure that you actually hang up next time. the whole class was still there, apart from the prof. not that they’re complaining, i saw their faces. they’re gonna be getting off to that for the entirety of lockdown, i swear! 

“

Needless to say, nobody in class called you the Teacher’s Pet anymore.

✩   ✩   ✩