#DIY Favours | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

princessbrunette · 7 months ago

Text

shittysoundcloudrapper!jj was persuasive and he knew it. it took barely any convincing anyway, his pretty best friend was just so whipped for him.

“look all i’m sayin’ is all this could be yours.” he fans the money out, staring you down with the ghost of a smirk as you lounge on his bed. you push your mouth into the corner, considering his offer as you fiddle with the hem of your skirt. it’s not that you didn’t trust jj, you did — you’d just never been so exposed before. his friends would hear this song, strangers would hear this song — you almost couldn’t believe he was asking to record your moans as a backing track for his beat. as you think, your smile grows — the blonde creeping towards you until he’s stood right infront of you, looming over your curled seating position.

“c’mon mama, you smell that?” he caresses your face with the wad of money, running it over your cheek and beneath your nose. “yeah. that’s that paper. hard earned benjys. you wanna help me out, don’t you? know you do.” he cooes and you’re hypnotised, nodding your head with fluttering lashes. it’s times like this he was glad to have you under his thumb.

it’s later on in the evening that things are ready to commence. perhaps when you’d agreed to help jj out, he wasn’t quite clear on the task at hand. yes, he wanted your moans for his backing track — but he didn’t want you stood infront of a mic, awkwardly recreating a scene from pornhub premiums. no, he was after the real deal. authenticity. method acting, so he called it.

“‘cus like, i’on know what’s worse. a chick faking an orgasm when you’re fucking her, or faking it just for the sake of your music. nah, i think… we’re close enough to make the real thing happen. like — for artistic expression… purposes.” he explains as he sets up his little mic, pulling a pair of headphones over his ears to check the sound. “check, check.” he drawls into the mic before nodding in approval.

“so how are we gonna…” you furrow your eyebrows, always having been on the more innocent side of the sex spectrum. before you even get to attempt to verbalise your confusion, the blonde lifts his head — responding like it was no biggie.

“oh, i can totally go down on you. ‘f’thats cool.” his tongue darts out to swipe at the corner of his mouth and you feel your eyes widen. “really you just gotta lay there n’hold the mic. easy as shit.” he shrugs, finally sitting down and looking at you expectedly as you gawk.

“wait, really?” you giggle. you’d thought about it many times, jj maybank between your legs — but now it was all too real, and you didn’t know it would be happening so out of the blue, practically a business proposition. he’s in your space again, cupping your cheek in that way that was far too familiar to just be friendly.

“look — babe, you don’t gotta worry about things being weird, alright? i’m a munch, like actually — aaaand, are you tellin’ me right now, you would say no to a little head? i mean if you don’t want me to eat it you can always y’know, DIY—” he gestures a circular rubbing motion with his middle and ring fingers, alluding to getting yourself off instead. “little dj action. just need the moans to be real. m’going all out director mode here.” somehow, the thought of touching yourself infront of jj was more humiliating — so you shake your head, sucking on your lip in thought.

“no, you can do it.” you whisper and he grins.

“yeah? atta girl. what a team player.” your best friend praises before kissing you quickly on the mouth. something he always did, platonically — but now made your heart speed up a ridiculous amount.

as you lay back shakily on the bed, you think back on the lyrics scrawled in messy handwriting in the notebook he’d leave lying around — the contents pointing to him really being about that eating pussy life. something like ‘sucking all on her clit like it’s my lifeline — she asked to return the favour, already got mine’ underlined in red biro.

it’s a blur after he hits record, kissing on your thighs making you giggle and rubbing you until there’s a wet spot through the cotton of your panties. you know he’s smiling, because you can feel the upwards curve of his mouth when he starts kissing you through the fabric. you’re pleasing him just from letting out the sweetest whimpers, challenging himself to get you to moan louder for the sake of his song.

it’s not long before he’s got you bare from the waist down, legs fanned wide open with his arms round your thighs. by this point, he has to remind himself not to talk as to not disrupt the recording — and you’re doing him proud, not even having to try to release the most breathy, beautiful sounds that he knew would be perfect on the track.

you get pouty as soon as the whole things over, deciding your best friend was a total sicko. he’d gotten all kissy on you, wet lips smushed against yours, his eyes all hazy from arousal as he makes you taste yourself, murmuring about how you did such a good job for him before wandering off shamelessly to the bathroom to jack off. you get shy, still oozing your release onto his grey-blue bed sheets thinking back on the way you begged him to talk you through it. he was focused on his producing, but he couldn’t resist on whispering “there y’go pretty mama. lemme hear it, good girl.” whilst you cream on his mean fingers.

no one seems to think it’s a big deal but you, his friends john b and pope often lazing around his place smoking weed and playing on the playstation, totally unresponsive to jj sat sprawled on the couch with his laptop on his lap, chopping and editing away on some shitty producer plugin — your moans occasionally playing around the room as he clicks away, tongue between his lips in concentration, backwards cap snug over messy blonde strands.

the boys chime in with an occasional comment. “sounds dope, man.” pope hums out brainlessly as he stares at the tv, thumbing aggressively at the console joystick, the brunette beside him quick to agree.

“no yeah, sounds good.” he agrees, eyes even darting towards where you’re curled on the couch painting your toenails, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing.

when he drops the song, he promotes it everywhere — and whilst you asked for no credits for your… addition, it seems to go without saying that you’re the girl on the song, no one else even in question as wherever jj goes you’re seen hanging off his arm. his friends might not make a big deal, but you notice the stares when you go out.

rafe cameron has the audacity to corner you at the juice bar, wearing a smirk that just told you that he knew. “yeah uh, love your friends little song.” he stares you down, egging on a reaction. “been playin’ it on a loop for some reason.”

you avoid his eyes. “yeah, it’s pretty good.” you shy away, but he blocks your path.

“mm, for sure, yeah but uh, you— you know i could have sworn i recognised the… female voice in the back. got any idea who that might be or…?” his smirk only grows, licking his lips as he looms over you.

“nope…” the doe eyes give you away.

“huh, ‘cos it kinda sounds like a pretty girl i know.”

you run and tell jj, all sniffly and regretful — knowing that snitching on rafe to jj is only going to cause problems. his reaction is less defensive and aggressive than you imagined, instead leading you through to his bedroom by the waist.

“look, bae — people are gonna talk, alright? doesn’t mean shit. sure as hell don’t care about what rafe thinks.” he sits you down, standing above you as he curls a hand under your chin affectionately. “but hey, if the money wasn’t enough— think i can make it worth your while. y’wanna lay down for me, sweets? no mic this time. jus’ me and that pretty pussy.”

#this is so choppy and weird i hate it #shittysoundcloudrapper!jj #jj maybank prompt #divider by yeossemble

814 notes · View notes

loquaciousferret · 2 years ago

Text

Seasons

Summary: One scene for each season of the year of your relationship as you fall in love with Joel Miller, single dad and sweet southern heartthrob.

Pairing: Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ explicit smut MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT. Discussion of religion, virginity, christian!reader, virgin!reader, old-fashioned values and gender roles/views of women. marriage, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex

Word Count: 6.5k (whoops)

A/N: If you love a slowburn then this is the fic for you, filled with adorable flirting and so-sweet-he-gives-you-toothache Joel. This idea came to me so randomly but it’s been a WIP for so long so I hope you like it!!

Spring

You let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a squeak as Joel and Tommy both picked up their cutlery ready to shovel the Sunday roast into their mouths. They hesitated at the sound and you spoke up, “I’m sorry, just, you don’t mind if I say grace, do you?”

A wide smirk spreads across Joel’s face and he raises his eyebrows at you, but puts his cutlery back down immediately. Tommy, who was frozen in place still clutching his fork which was loaded with roast chicken and gravy, received a harsh glare from Joel, leading him to put his down too.

“I’m sorry,” You said again, embarrassed that you had interrupted them.

Joel’s expression remained bemused but he responded kindly, “Hey, don’t apologise, sweetheart. You’re just always full of surprises, that’s all. Go ahead.” He gives you a reassuring smile.

You reached for Tommy’s hand with your left and Joel’s with your right and looked down towards the table, closing your eyes.

“Lord, please bless this food to our bodies and let us hold you in our hearts. We thank you for the meal and the company in which we will share it. Through christ our lord we praise you, amen.”

“Amen to that.” Tommy copied excitedly, wasting no time in getting stuck into his meal.

Joel didn’t respond to the prayer but gave you a reassuring nod, his smile still glowing. “That was lovely, darlin’.” He said, making you smile back shyly.

You got started on your own meal. You and Joel had spent the afternoon cooking together, and by together, that meant you did the cooking and he stood by and offered words of encouragement, assuring you that if he got involved he would only find some way to ruin it.

Joel’s daughter, Sarah, was out at a friend’s house all day, giving you ample time with him. He was yet to introduce you to her, given it hadn’t been long since you had met him, but you spent plenty of time with him and sometimes Tommy, too, when Sarah was otherwise occupied. Luckily for you, she was a social butterfly, and you usually got to see Joel at least one evening a week, and when you were lucky, for a full day at the weekend, like today.

It was your first Sunday with him, and it had taken quite the story to explain to your parents, grandparents, and siblings as to why you would be missing their Sunday dinner in favour of a new friend. They would most definitely be clucking like hens at their own dinner table, speculating about who might have enticed you away. In truth it had been your idea, you had been excited to do this with Joel.

You had met him in a hardware store just at the beginning of February, an old-fashioned meet-cute in which you struggled with deciphering what kind of faucet you needed to pick up for the kitchen sink in your new apartment.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sweetheart, you seem to be having some trouble there, can I lend you any knowledge?” The handsome stranger had asked politely.

His friendly demeanour as well as his expertise had led you to pick his brain in numerous aisles of the store and eventually, you bravely asked for his number. Strictly for DIY-related enquiries, of course.

But now here you were, gazing at him as he savoured the food you had cooked, and you quietly laughed along at his and his brother’s back-and-forth wit, chest bursting with affection for this gentle man whom you were growing fond of.

Summer

You fanned yourself with your magazine, sipping on a cool lemonade. Nothing was helping you to beat the suffocating Texas heat.

You watched on in amusement, perched at the edge of the lawn in Joel’s backyard as him, Tommy, and Sarah grappled with each other in a game of soccer gone wrong.

“Y’know, I don’t think soccer is supposed to be this violent.” You called out to them.

Sarah looked up at you and laughed. “These two idiots will wrestle over a game of monopoly, it doesn’t take much.”

You smiled back at her. You were so grateful at how quickly she had accepted you as Joel’s “lady friend”. You frequently caught her and Tommy wiggling their eyebrows and communicating about you and Joel behind your backs. Neither of them bought the idea that you and Joel were still just friends, but it was true.

In some ways, you had been surprised too. Joel was incredibly patient with you. Lots of guys you had dated got bored fairly quickly but Joel never rushed you and seemed happy going at your pace. You would go to dinner, take walks together, hang out with his family, but nothing more. And he respected it. As time went on, your respect for his patience grew along with your feelings for him.

Later, with Sarah in bed and Tommy having excused himself, the two of you relaxed together in the now relatively cool evening air on a wicker bench in his backyard. He nursed a beer in one hand, his other arm slung around you, and you were cuddled into his chest slightly, comfortable in his embrace.

He was pointing out constellations, but you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from his face to look to where he was trying to guide your attention.

“Are you even listenin’ to me?” He said, smiling as he looked down at you and caught your gaze transfixed on him instead of the night sky.

You blushed and made to move away but he held you tighter into him, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You reached up to cup his jaw and looked up at him once more, connecting your lips to his. He leaned down to put his beer on the ground without breaking the kiss, the hand that was around your shoulder reaching up to become entangled in your hair, the other one holding your knee.

You continued to kiss and he deepened it gently with his tongue. At the same time, his hand drifted up your leg until it met the hem of your sundress. You jumped back as he slid his fingertips under your dress and onto your upper thigh.

“Joel, I-“

He straightened up, looking away with a heavy sigh. But when he looked back at you, he wasn’t angry. There was something else hiding in those brown eyes, you just weren’t quite sure what.

“Look, sweetheart..." He sighed. “We’ve been seeing for five months now. I just need to know, I mean…” He sighed again, he seemed to be struggling to get the words out. “I just need to know, baby. Don’t you see me like that? Don’t you want me like that?”

Your heart twinged with guilt as you met his eye again. They were filled with sadness. He thought you were rejecting him.

“Oh, Joel.” You reached out to stroke his cheek with one of your hands. “Joel, please don’t think that. I just-" You screwed your face up with embarrassment. Obviously, this moment would come. He had been so patient up to this point. You couldn’t fault him in the slightest for how respectful he was of your boundaries, never pushing you for more. And you were wracked with guilt at the thought that he had been considering this was down to him and how you felt about him.

“Oh, Joel, I- It’s.” You couldn’t help but stumble over your words. “Of course I do Joel, I do want you, more than anything, but I- I- I’m waiting, you see?”

“You’re-“ He scowled until the realisation hit and he raised his eyebrows. “Oh. You’re waiting waiting.”

“Yes.” You let out an apprehensive breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, sweetheart.” He said, putting a hand under your chin and tilting it up so you met his eye once again, his face having softened once more.

“Just means I’ll have to be the one to marry you.” There was a glint in his eye and that paralysing smirk he wore so often.

“Joel!” You scoffed, playfully hitting his chest. You wished your heart hadn’t fluttered the way it did at his joke.

Autumn Sarah skipped ahead of you excitedly, you and Joel followed, walking hand in hand down the meadow path.

You had all piled into the truck that afternoon and you had directed Joel to this location, somewhere you had visited ever since childhood to pick apples during harvest season.

“Look! I’ve found them!” Sarah was quite literally jumping with joy, pointing up at the first tree you had come across which was bearing fruit.

“Good job, honey.” Joel said as you both caught up to her.

She was hopping up but failing to reach the fruit even on the lowest boughs of the tree. Joel stepped in at that point. “Here, let me get you a leg up.” He offered.

He held out both his hands for her to stand on as a platform, grunting with exertion as he hoisted her up. She then clung to his shoulders tightly with one arm around his neck, stretching out with her other hand to reach out for the fruit.

She picked them successfully and dropped them into the basket you held out for her.

After gathering nearly a dozen, she leaped down and inspected her findings, picking out each one individually to admire them and compare their sizes.

“Have you ever had real apple pie before? Like this? With the fresh apples and everything?” You asked her.

“Nope, first time!” She responded excitedly. “I’m so hungry for it already. I hope it doesn’t take long to bake.”

“Well, it does take a while, honey. Baking is a labour of love,” You explained to her kindly as you walked back to the truck alongside each other, Joel a few paces behind. “The more time and patience you put into things, the better the end pay-off.”

Joel chuckled lightly behind you and you whipped round to look at him over your shoulder.

“What?” You laughed.

“Nothin’.” He said, smiling back at you. “Very wise life philosophy you got there, that’s all.”

You screwed your face up at him playfully. Trust Joel to turn your simple lesson into a different one entirely.

Back at Joel’s home, you taught Sarah how to soften the apples in butter, sugar, and cinnamon, filling the kitchen and most of the downstairs with that delicious combination of scents.

Next, you made the pastry by hand, patiently guiding her on how to knead the dough, and how to tell when to stop at the right consistency and not spoil it by over-kneading. She listened carefully and copied you, she was a quick learner.

Joel watched you both, filled with adoration at the scene in front of him. Your patience and kindness towards Sarah was a huge factor in how hard he was falling for you. You were only a little more than a decade older than her, but your maternal behaviours towards her seemed to come totally natural to you.

You were exactly the presence Sarah needed in her life. You were an absolute blessing for the pair of them.

He smiled and shook his head at his own thoughts. A blessing. Your way of thinking was rubbing off on him.

Sarah left to bathe and get ready for bed while you finished constructing the pie, the oven preheating. Joel continued to watch from his seat at the breakfast bar.

“You do so well with her.” He remarked.

“Oh.” You responded, slightly surprised. You had nearly forgotten he was there with how quietly he had observed the activity.

You didn’t turn to face him, not wanting him to notice the blush creeping into your cheeks.

“Thank you, Joel.” You said sincerely after having gathered your thoughts. “I’ve always loved kids. I think it just comes naturally to me.”

“Yeah?” He said, pleased with your response.

“It’s like I was born to be a mother.” You chuckled a little. It was something you had been told throughout your life. You had always enjoyed being with your aunts, helping with the babies, moreso than playing outside or doing things with your cousins and friends of your own age.

He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. This happened all the time, you took the thoughts right out of his head and spoke them into reality. You were perfect for him in every sense, he had known this for a while now but you strengthened his belief in the fact every single day. Joel knew he was madly in love with you, a deep connection he had never felt towards anyone else. And he had your morals to thank. The lack of physical relationship meant that you had spent months building on a genuine friendship and emotional connection, one that stood on its own without the need for sexual attraction. Not that he didn’t have that for you in spades.

All his previous relationships had been built on something physical, an initial attraction that was acted on and developed into more. Not you. His fondness of you was not based on that. That’s not to say he didn’t constantly want more as you kissed him, not that he didn’t think of you in his intimate moments, or sometimes needed to excuse himself when he got a glimpse of your upper thighs or even a panty line under your sundress if you reached up on tiptoe to grab something or climbed up the steps ahead of him. You had him like a touch-starved schoolboy, every single glimpse of your flesh was like a jolt of electricity inside him.

It had been nearly 8 months since you met and you had changed his and Sarah’s lives already, bringing laughter and sunshine back into their home. He had even met your family, too, at a barbecue towards the end of summer. He had had to hold in a laugh at their old-fashioned ways when they referred to him as the man you were 'courting'. But they accepted him, approved of him despite him being 10 years your senior, a divorced single dad. They didn’t judge him and they could see how happy you made each other.

The other day, he had lied about needing to head to the store and you stayed and watched Sarah. It had been a relief when he had went to your father’s house, and he had said yes so quickly to Joel’s request for your hand in marriage.

Winter

Austin saw it’s first measurable snowfall in a couple of years. You three, Tommy, and the new dog you and Sarah had convinced Joel to adopt for Christmas, were out walking near a cabin you had rented together for some of the holidays.

You all had red cheeks and your breaths were visible, coming out as mist in the cold air. It was the one of the coldest winters in a while, with the temperature barely hitting the 40s each day.

When you got back to the cabin, you, Sarah, and Tommy fought over who would get to shower first for warmth. You ended up placing second in the queue, behind her and before him, which you were satisfied with. There were 3 bedrooms but only one bathroom in the cabin, leading to almost daily arguments between the brothers and Sarah, most of which you simply observed in amusement.

“Come ‘ere.” Joel said, beckoning you to join him in the lounge. “Fire’s just gettin’ started. I’ll keep you warm until it’s your turn.”

You smiled and joined him, shedding a few layers of clothing to dry off and warm up by the fire.

He rubbed your arms and legs roughly, generating heat from the friction. It tickled and you pushed him away. He lost his balance and fell backwards.

“You tryna kill me?” He laughs. “There’s a fire behind me.”

You smiled at him. He was mesmerised by you, with your rosy cheeks and your eyes illuminated, reflecting the flickering of the log fire.

He had wanted to wait for the perfect moment, and propose to you like a scene out of those terrible romance movies you love so much. But it was times like this that moved his heart, the simple every day moments you shared that reminded him why he was so madly in love with you.

And so he couldn’t help himself, he shifted so he was on one knee between your legs.

“What are you doin’?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing in curiosity.

“Quiet, alright, let me focus.” There was nothing impatient in how he responded, if anything, he only sounded nervous. That intrigued you more.

You smile at him and he loses all train of thought again taking in your expression.

“Sweetheart.” He starts, his voice cracking slightly. You had rarely seen Joel nervous or flustered but this had to be it. “I wanted to make this more special but I… I can’t wait any longer.”

You have to physically stop your jaw dropping in shock as Joel pulls a small box out of the pocket of his large winter jacket, his hands trembling slightly. Your heart races as you realise what is happening.

“Sweetheart, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I ask myself every day what I did to deserve you to come into me and Sarah’s life. You make me so happy every single day. I- I know we’ve not been together long but I know already I can’t see a future without you by my side. I- We- We want you to join our family. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

Tears well in your eyes as you look down at Joel, waiting nervously for your answer. You had only been together 9 months but he was everything you had dreamed in a partner, kind, caring, supportive, always making you laugh. He was the most important person in your life despite the short time you had shared.

“Yes, Joel.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

He exhaled deeply in relief.

“Yes, I want nothing more than to marry you.”

He pulled you into a tight embrace and you laughed, pushing him away, “Aren’t you gonna put that on my finger first?”

He pulled back, blushing, taking your outstretched hand and sliding the elegant ring onto your finger. “Yes, darlin’ I’m sorry- I-“ He cut himself off, pulling you close to him and pressing a kiss to your head.

This was the happiest moment of your life.

Neither of you knew Tommy was in the hallway and had listened to the whole thing. “Finally.” He muttered with a wide smile on his face.

Spring

You married exactly a year to the day that you met (Joel’s idea) in your parish church with your close friends and family watching. Your sister, your childhood best friend, and of course Sarah made up your bridesmaids. Tommy was Joel’s best man.

You wore a simple white dress with a lace bodice and sleeves, complimenting your figure, cinching at the waist and stretching around your hips.

The wedding was simple, as was the dinner and reception. Flashy wasn’t you and Joel’s style.

As the night wore on and the guests mingled, you finally felt yourself relax. You weren’t a big drinker but today was your wedding day and you had been constantly plied with champagne by your friends and family.

“Hey Mrs Miller!” Tommy approached you from the side. “Will you give me a dance?”

You look to Joel, who squeezed your hand and smiled. “Off you go.” He said.

You laughed and took Tommy’s outstretched hand as he led you to the dance floor. The music was relatively upbeat and he was twirling you, you giggled, trying not to trip up on your dress or your heels.

“I would say welcome to the family, but it feels like you became an important part of it a long time ago.” He says when the music calms down and he takes you closer to him for a slower dance. “Joel is one lucky man, and I’m lucky to have you for a sister-in-law now too.”

You didn’t respond, taking in his sincere words. You were absolutely grateful for the extended family Joel had brought into your life. And Tommy was right, they had welcomed you with open arms and made you feel like you belonged from the very beginning.

“He’s never been happier. Sarah too. Thank you for that.” He goes on.

“They’re everything to me.” You say simply.

He nods in understanding. As the song draws to a close he pulls you in for a tight hug.

“Congratulations, sweetheart.”

“No getting rid of me now.” You say back cheekily, and he laughs as he guides you back to where Joel is mingling with guests.

Joel sees the two of you approaching and smiles warmly, reaching out to pull you close to him and planting a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Having fun, Mrs Miller?” He says, his eyes twinkling. He hasn’t called you by your name all day. He likes this new one.

“Certainly. Tommy’s keeping me entertained.”

“Yeah he’s good at that, ain’t he?” Joel teases, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

Tommy holds his hands up in defence, “Hey! That’s your wife.”

“Damn right it is.” He responds, squeezing your hip. You blush as he holds you close to him. He is always affectionate, but today you have felt more loved and cherished than any day of your life.

You catch Sarah’s eye. She is watching you fondly from a nearby table where she sits with a small group of her friends and some of your cousins who are about her age.

You smile warmly and offer her a thumbs up. She smiles back. You are grateful for the bond you have with her and the support you have both shown each other throughout your relationship with Joel.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of happiness, laughter, and love. More champagne is consumed, and some cake. Sarah was involved in baking it for you with help from a professional. As the night draws to a close, you begin to feel nervous, knowing what is to come when you and Joel retire to your honeymoon suite shortly.

“I can’t believe we’re married.” He whispers into your hair.

“Me too. But it feels like everything I ever imagined.”

Joel nodded, rubbing circles into your back with his large palm. “More than I ever imagined.” He responds.

He kept you in a tight embrace. You can hardly believe that a year ago you didn’t know this wonderful man existed, and now you are a married couple. He pulls back from you, a tender expression on his features. “Are you ready to go to bed?”

You know this question is loaded with the implication of another. Although you feel nerves rising in your chest, there’s another part of you that is thrilled and excited to experience this entirely new element of your relationship with Joel.

You nod, and he doesn’t hesitate to take your hand and lead you out of the hall. Many guests have left and you bid farewell to the others on the way out.

He leads you hand in hand to your hotel suite. The room is dimly lit, with soft music playing. There is another bottle of champagne on the dressing table- not that you need any more.

You turn to Joel, feeling nervous, which he can sense easily. He approaches you carefully, removing his suit jacket and tossing it over an armchair in the corner, loosening his tie and removing the top button of his shirt.

He looks so incredibly handsome and you think that it is intensified by the knowledge that you are looking at your husband.

He cups your face in his hands, “I love you, sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re my wife.”

He leans in and kisses you. It leaves you breathless and exhilarated, knowing that for the first time, this kiss will lead to more. Your body melts into his, you wrap your hands around his neck and lose yourself in the moment, his warmth and his rich scent enveloping you and making you feel safe and comfortable.

He pulls away eventually and rests his hands on your hips. “I know we’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time- Well, I certainly have.” His voice is laced with emotion. “But we don’t have to rush anything. We’ll take it slow, enjoy every moment of getting to know each other like this.”

You nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. You were nervous about messing things up or disappointing Joel, but he was patient and understanding as always.

“Thank you.” Your voice comes out as barely a whisper.

Joel leans in for another kiss and you melt into his embrace once again. He restrains his lust and passion and tries to make every touch a demonstration of his love and commitment to you.

He begins to unlace the delicate back of your dress and pulls it from your shoulders. Your neck is exposed, then your collarbones, then your chest, clad in your special bridal lingerie.

He lets out a sigh as he takes in the sight of you. He had seen your body before, at the beach, but now when he looked at you it was accompanied by an entirely different feeling. You were going to be his for the rest of your lives, all of you, all of this, was his. Forever. It was nearly overwhelming.

He leans down, pressing a trail of soft open-mouthed kisses to your neck and down your exposed chest. He continues to pull down your dress gently as he goes, until it has slipped off of you entirely. He retreats to carefully lay it out on the sofa in the corner. He approaches the bed again and begins to remove his own clothing, unbuttoning his shirt painstakingly slowly as you watched him in anticipation. You take him in, admiring the way his muscles ripple as he moves, his honey skin, and the dark hair scattered over his stomach and chest. He was the image of beauty to you. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you feel as though you were the only woman in the world, the only one he had ever wanted.

He steps towards you and climbs onto the bed, holding himself up with one strong forearm and kissing you. The feeling of his bare skin against yours sent waves of desire through your body.

His hands explored you, softly roaming over every curve and contour of your figure, giving every inch of you attention with his lips or hands. As he does so, you feel your body responding to his touch. Your skin grows more and more sensitive to his every movement. You moan softly as his hands glide over the thin fabric of your bra, your nipples hardening in reaction to his teasingly light touch.

He whispers in your ear, a low and husky tone to his voice that you haven’t heard before, “I want you, I want to make you mine forever.”

You shiver at his words, a rush of desire shooting through you. You pull him tighter to you in an embrace and you feel the hard length of him pressing into your stomach. It adds to your excitement.

He kisses you once more on the lips, his tongue exploring your mouth. You taste whiskey and wedding cake frosting. A combination of strong and sweet, like Joel. Then he lifts your back from the bed slightly, his attention on your bra clasp which he removes with practiced ease and tosses it aside. He leans down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and licking and sucking gently. You gasp at the sensation and feel yourself clenching your thighs involuntarily, desire coursing through you.

He moves down your body, one hand continues to touch your breasts and he trails kisses down your stomach. When he reaches the waistband of your panties, he looks up at you, questioningly. You nod at him, nervousness and excitement fighting for priority in your body and mind.

He pulls them off slowly, savouring the moment. You feel exposed and vulnerable, but the sight of his hungry gaze as he takes in your naked form turns you on.

You feel his hard length pressing into you again and you are silently grateful that he keeps his promise, taking you through this slowly, even though you know he wants you desperately.

“You trust me, darlin’?” He says, breathlessly.

“Yes, Joel.” You respond, anticipating what might be coming.

“Let me take care of you, alright?” He says, his fingers massaging at your inner thighs.

You just nod, and with that he slides his hands higher and his fingers enter your folds, which are already wet with your want for him. You gasp at the sensation, shocked at how his large rough hands are even capable of such gentle touches.

He rubs at you softly, circular motions around your clit snd then down to your hole, barely dipping in a fingertip before withdrawing it again and dragging wetness back up to your clit. You adjust to the sensation quickly and crave more, to intensify the feeling he is giving you.

You buck your hips upwards, letting your thoughts be known to him. He laughs lightly. “Be patient.”

You whine.

He inserts a finger all the way inside you and you gasp at the feeling. Of course you have done this alone but the feeling of his large masculine hands with long, thick, fingers, is a new sensation entirely.

He moves it inside you, slowly, his other hand holding you at your hip. His touches are gentle and restrained yet firm and deliberate. Small moans of pleasure escape you.

His finger then curls inside of you and hits a spot that makes you arch in pleasure, moaning more loudly. Your hands reach out to grab him by the shoulders. He grins and curls his finger again, pressing against that spot faster and with more intensity. You feel your body start to tighten, your limbs tensing up instinctively. The pleasure builds inside of you until it is almost too much to bear.

Just when you think you couldn’t take it anymore, he removes the finger. It is trailed by a large amount of your wetness. He does something unexpected then, bringing it up to his mouth and sucking on it. The sight feels inappropriate and you look away from him, blushing.

He takes the finger, now wet with saliva and inserts it inside you again, this time accompanied by another. The stretch is numbed by the pleasure he gives you. He pumps them in and out of you slowly, curling and scissoring inside of you. He plays a game of attempting to elicit the sweetest sounds from you.

He brings his thumb to your clit simultaneously and gently rubs it. It makes you bite your lip to stop you from crying out.

“Let it out, sweetheart.” He instructs. “Don’t hold back from me.”

“Joell-“ You whine. “Ah!”

Your volume encourages him and he continues, a steady rhythmic pace applied to both the fingers working you from the inside and the one giving attention to your clit.

You feel the same knot of pleasure from before building.

You find confidence and become more vocal, “Please don’t stop Joel!” You plead.

“Are you gonna come, baby?” He asks in a deep tone.

“I think so.” You squeak. “Fee- Feels so good J-Joel, plea-“ You cut yourself off with a moan.

Heat gathers in every corner of your body and as Joel maintains his consistent pace, you reach closer and closer to a release of this tension inside you.

Finally it snaps, and you cry out. The pleasure is overwhelming, your heart races and you pant, breathless, as the feeling courses through every inch of you. You feel yourself collapse further into the bed, weakened by the experience.

He removes his fingers from inside you but keeps gently rubbing your clit as you twitch and shiver underneath him. Eventually he stops that too, and kisses you deeply. You come back down from your high slowly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, barely pulling away from you. His lips tickle yours as he speaks.

You feel a rush of affection towards him, still dazed from your orgasm. Your already flushed cheeks seem to grow even more warm under the weight of his intense gaze and his compliments. As you catch your breath, he continues to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, words of adoration spilling from his whiskey-loosened tongue.

“My girl forever aren’t you?” He whispers. You nod, keening towards his touch as he brings his hand to your core once again, the sensitivity of your orgasm finally worn off.

“My beautiful girl.”

You think he is talking to himself more so than you.

He shifts his weight, lowering himself further down the bed and positioning himself between your legs. You watch him, unsure what he is going to do next. He parts your thighs widely and lowers himself between them. He kisses and licks at your inner thighs, his hot breathe on your skin piques your arousal.

His mouth moves higher and higher, until his tongue licks a wide stripe through your folds. You immediately gasp.

He continues licking and sucking, his stubble grazing at your inner thighs, a sensation that burns, but not unpleasantly. He is bringing the peak of your pleasure quickly, and you feel the hot tension gathering within you. Your hands reach down to tangle in his curls, which are slightly dishevelled from the busy day. You tug on his hair lightly and he groans against your pussy, a sensation that sends shivers through you.

He continues to work you with his mouth, sucking at your clit and then moving all the way down to penetrate your entrance with his tongue, then dragging it back up and starting again. It is messy and raw and more intensely pleasurable than you could have ever imagined. Your wave of pleasure is about to crash down, and you cry out in warning.

“Joel I’m going to- Ah!” He doesn’t let you finish your sentence, cutting you off into a moan as he increases the pressure of the suction on your clit, alternating with flicking his tongue against it rapidly, pushing you over the edge.

You cry out his name and unravel beneath him, your body shaking with an orgasm far more intense than the first. He continues to lick and suck gently, tasting all of your juices. Not quite taking you into overstimulation, just easing you through as the waves of pleasure subside before pulling away. He slowly makes his way back up your body. When he reaches your lips, he kisses you deeply, and his tongue tastes of your essence.

“I love you.” He whispers against your lips. “You’re perfect.”

Finally, he straightens up, pulling away and removing his boxers. Your eyes widen as you take in the size of his erection.

He notices your reaction. “This ok, darlin’?” He asks calmly.

You nod, still nervous, which he can see from how you bite your lip. He crawls back onto the bed and positions himself between your legs.

“I’ll go as slow as I can baby, if it hurts you tell me, ok?”

You nod.

“Say it, sweetheart.”

“I’ll tell you Joel, I promise.”

“Good.” He says.

He leans down and captures your lips in a kiss. One hand holds him up, the other is guiding his hard length to your entrance. You take a deep breath, trying to relax, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. He slowly begins to push himself into you. You both gasp at that first sensation.

You feel a painful stretch, but it quickly fades as he stops with just the tip inserted in you, giving you time to adjust. He plants kisses all over your face and whispers words of praise and reassurance as he continues to edge into you again.

Finally, he is fully inside of you, and he stops, looking down at you with a caring expression. “This OK, sweetheart?” He asks softly, stroking your hair with his free hand.

You nod.

He begins to move slowly, in and out in a gentle rhythm. You moan softly every time he is fully deep inside you, hitting pleasure spots inside your walls. As time goes on he picks up the pace gradually and thrusts slightly harder, analysing every sound and expression of yours to ensure you remain comfortable.

You feel an urge to wrap your legs around his waist, wanting to feel him even deeper. He grunts in pleasure as you do so. Your connection to him is intense and overwhelming, physically full of him and giving yourself to him in every way.

Next he brings a hand to your clit and his thumb rubs at it gently like before. You feel that this makes your pussy clench around him. He grunts every time it does so.

“Oh, Joel.” You gasp.

He takes your gasp as a cue to increase the pace, and soon he is pounding into you with a steady, rhythmic force. You feel that knot of pleasure building in your core, and you know you won't be able to hold back a release much longer.

Joel's movements become more urgent, and his hand on your clit works faster. Your moans and gasps grow louder, and you feel like you're about to come apart at the seams.

"Come for me, baby," Joel growls, his breath hot against your neck. "I want to feel you come around me."

His words are all you need, and with a cry, you fall over the edge. Waves of pleasure crash over you, and you clench around him tightly as you ride out your orgasm.

As you come down from your high, Joel’s pace is faltering, and with a grunt of your name, you feel him tense up and a hot release spills into you. He collapses a little on top of you and you can’t help but laugh as he knocks the air out of your lungs, crushing you, his body shaking with exertion. He slides his hands under you and squeezes you into him.

You both lay there in silence, trying to catch your breath and ground yourselves from the pleasure you had both experienced. The gentle music continues to play in the background and other than that the only sounds that can be heard are the rise and fall of your breath and an occasional contented sigh from Joel.

Eventually he pulls out from inside you and rolls off of you, pulling you close to his side. You snuggle into his chest, feeling safe and loved in his embrace.

“Was I as good as you imagined? Didn't let you down?” He teases gently.

“Even better than I could have imagined.” You admit. “Can we do it again?” You say.

He laughs and kisses your head. “Of course, Mrs Miller. As much as you like.” He says, running his hand through your hair.

You both lay there, enjoying the peaceful afterglow of your lovemaking. You drift to sleep, ready to wake up for the first day of the rest of your life as Joel’s wife.

Read more pre-outbreak Joel smut in Country Lovin’

Find my entire masterlist of Pedro Pascal characters here

Pedro Taglist @tightjeansjavi @lovers-liability @cutesyscreenname @serenaxpedro @hrtsforpascal @queerponcho @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @kdogreads @drewharrisonwriter @therealmabelpinez

Story Taglist @carlyreneeinthemoon @anat2507 @soph55 @annagraceevanss @vanillen @hummusxx @still-wanna-be-corrupted @prettyangelsthings @luvtheoldmen @theelishad @afterglowsb-tch13 @moonlightdivine @dilfsaremyfavourite @midgetpottermills @skysmiller @gaypoetsblog @jadeees-posts @rosey1981 @alyhull @decaffeinatedweirdo @prwttp @hesjustken @luamarieta

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be on a Joel taglist, or permanent Pedro taglist <3

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller one shot #tlou fanfic #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader smut

3K notes · View notes

kisses4reid · 7 months ago

Text

big change | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - cutting spencer’s hair results in more than just a ‘big change’ appearance wise.

genre - fluff!!!!! cutesy yearning

warnings - idk u scared of haircuts?? scissors??? kissing?? (barely edited btw)

a/n - sometimes i black out and write a fanfic and then find it later on and then i’m like shit this kinda fire and then i edit it and then i post it and then-

You roll your chair over to Spencer’s desk after much staring, and rest an elbow on a low stack of manila folders. Your sneakers squeak as you slow yourself, causing a visible flinch from the long haired boy.

His brunet hair was flicked up at the ends which touched his shoulders, the front pieces tucked behind his ears. As he lifted his gaze, hard expression softening immediately, you whispered, “I know your secret.”

His smile jolted, heart beat quickening. You had a cheeky smile on, hair twirling between your fingers, talking so low. You couldn’t possibly know his secret.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” He asked, placing his pen down and turning to give you his full attention.

“You don’t know how to cut your hair.” His long hair suited him, you thought he looked as handsome as he did on your first day of work how many years ago. The day Spencer fell in love.

Dumbfounded, Spencer replied with a pout, “I know how to cut my hair.”

You raised an eyebrow, and suddenly he was aware of the jagged lines and length of his hair, and how he was now bringing hair ties with him everywhere. Which was actually convenient for all female members of the team. He had to admit, it was inconvenient at times, and it wasn’t his favourite to deal with or to look at. He looked back into your sparkling expecting eyes, smiled softly, and continued, “You should cut it for me.”

You lifted your head from your palm and raised your eyebrows, a pink flush ghosting your cheeks. The offer was innocent, it was a favour, but something about it felt so domestic in your head that you couldn’t help but smile hard, cheeks pressing, “Yeah, of course.”

You pushed off his desk and returned to yours, though his gaze never left your sunny appearance.

The next day, you were knocking on a familiar apartment door, rocking on your sneaker heels, eyes wandering anywhere but where you thought Spencer would be when he opened the door. But even when he did open his door, after a thud and small ‘ow’, you couldn’t help but look at him and savour the last moments with his long hair.

He had a navy blue sweater over a white t-shirt, some sweatpants that looked more formal from afar, and mis-match socks on. You gulped and stepped into his apartment, taking everything in as if you hadn’t been there before.

You took off your light purple scarf and placed it on the kitchen counter, along side the small hair cutting kit you had gotten a few years ago (you couldn’t afford a hair cut before your first day at the BAU, it was a diy emergency).

The apartment was dark and cosy, cabinets a rich wood tone, countertops squeaky clean, couches plush and thrifted. You two often talked about the best thrift stores to visit, you had even planned to go to one together one day. As Spencer pulled a wooden bar stool into the kitchen to sit on, you tied your own hair up, reminding yourself of why you were here.

He smelt amazing, like a new book and burnt marshmallow, and as he gazed into your eyes waiting for you to speak, a cat caught your tongue. You were alone in this warm apartment, only the soft music of Spencer’s old playlist in the background, and a heart beating that you weren’t sure was yours or his.

“Um- Okay. Do you have a reference photo or?”

“Yeah,” he pulled his phone out of his back pocket and showed you a reference photo. It was like he wanted to be a boy band member, and as you imagined him with it, you couldn’t be happier.

He got nervous watching your reaction, it was a very drastic change. You placed his phone on the counter top next to your hair kit, his eyes following your every move like if he blinked you would dissipate. And when a small smile ghosted your face, he felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders.

"I like it."

"Good."

You leaned close to Spencer, your heat radiating onto him, to pull a lever on his chair to lower him to your eye level. A spray bottle appeared in your hand while the other covered Spencer's brown eyes. Suddenly, cold sprits of water caused Spencer to flinch every time he heard the trigger fire, causing you to giggle lightly. "It's just water." "I didn't get any warning though." He replied sheepishly. He couldn't hear much over his heartbeat, or see much other than you.

The next 15 minutes was spent in radio music and being surrounded by your sweet perfume, trying not to grab you or touch you as much as he wanted to. You were stood in front of him now, eyes focused on his bangs and the hair around his ears, scissors and comb in hand, and he couldn't stop gazing into your eyes like a little boy looking at the stars.

You were utterly gorgeous, beautiful, unreal. Spencer often wondered, especially at the start of your relationship, how nobody else had tried to date you in the team, or in general. But as the two of you grew closer, he realised you were telling everyone no. You were waiting for someone, and it made his heart break everytime he remembered your words.

If only he knew. Your hands jittered slightly, feeling insecure at his hard gaze that you simply couldn't ignore. You hoped in the dim lighting he couldn't see your red cheeks or steep breaths, or that he could. You hoped you never finished cutting his hair, and you thought of other ways you could stay this close. He was tall, warm, comfortable. He was smart, caring, clean. He was Spencer, who wouldn't want to stay with him? A gulp escaped you, and he ripped his eyes off of yours, looking down to avoid your eyes and to see the damage.

There was piles of hair beneath your feet now, and he smiled at the sight.

"Spencer, stop moving your head. I couldv'e cut off your eyebrows." Your laugh filled the apartment, and he looked back up at you.

He hadn't realised how far you had gotten, your eyes scanning his hair for any improvements before a small smile of approval appeared on your cheeks. A breath escaped him. You turned to close your kit. He stood up and placed a hand on the front of your neck, turning your head, and planting his lips on yours.

You squeaked in surprise, quickly kissing back as his hands traveled to your cheeks, holding onto you like you were the only girl in the world. Your fingertips splayed on his chest, you pulled away only to be followed for another kiss, only broken up by a millisecond of a breath.

You opened your eyes and pushed him softly away, noticing the lipstick now stained on his lips and around them. The dim kitchen was spinning, your chest was heaving, and your heart was racing a million beats per minute. You even got a little light-headed before Spencer took his hands from your face and rest them on your waist.

He was much taller now that he wasn't sat, and he looked even more handsome with the haircut you had given him. For a second you thought you were hallucinating. Spencers eyes played between your lips and your eyes, before meeting you in the middle once again. He lifted you slightly, kissing you with movements full of yearning and passion, slowly with multiple breaths in the middle to give you time to reject him (which he expected), but you never did.

You put one hand on his cheek as he pulled away. He smiled widely at you, taking the enthusiasm back as a good sign. He didn't totally fuck up. You whispered, "You kiss your barbers often?" He replied with a cheeky smile, "Only you."

taglist: @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #cm #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader

934 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

Summer Breeze 9

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

“I don’t think I can make the drive back up,” Andy yawns, “I got us a house not far from here.”

He gets in the driver seat as you take the passengers. The exhaustion is finally winning, so much so that you hard care about any of it. You just want to be in one place and laying down.

“A house?” You rub your cheek and lean into the door.

“Yeah, got a buddy. He rents it out on some app, thought about doing the same with our place,” he checks his blind spot as he backs out, “anyway, lot of whatever. He doesn’t have any booking so I called in a favour.”

“Mm, lucky,” you mumble and your eyes droop.

Your dad doesn’t have any convenient friends. Just Andy. Your mom told everyone he was a piece of shit during the divorce and she moved away once you hit eighteen so he had to live in the cess pool of it all.

Andy moved in about the same time but you never really thought of him as more than a neighbour. He had a beer with your dad now and again whenever he needed help with some DIY but it was never that deep. You suppose after you went off to college, your dad had more time to waste on friends.

Your mind keeps wandering to the minuscule; the irrelevant. Just so you don’t have to think about the worst. You let your eyes close and sink down.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” Andy’s silty tone follows you down, “be like twenty minutes.”

The motion of the car lulls you. Your head thrums and your body goes hollow. You feel like you’re made of air as your mind ripples. It’s only as you come to a stop that you’re roused from your trance. You sit up and sniff.

“How ya doin’ over there?” Andy rests his hand on the corner of your seat.

“Fine, fine, I’m just...”

“Tired. Yeah, you were snoring,” he snickers, “kinda cute.”

You blink and keep your brow from furrowing. Sometimes he says things that don’t need to be said. You suppress a yawn and undo the seat belt.

“It’s been a long couple days.”

“Tell me about it,” he tuts, “I’ll grab the bags.”

Another storm of confusion takes you. You keep forgetting the little details. You get out and wait for him as he pops the hatch. He pulls out your pink duffel bag and his own dark blue suitcase. He hauls both with him as he approaches.

“The key is on the door. You just need to put in the code,” he instructs, directing you ahead of him with the tilt of his chin.

“Oh, sure.”

You turn and lead him across the gravel. The house is just as nice as his cottage, crested by a small pond behind the tall porch. You climb the steps and go to the front door, a lock box hooked around the handle. He gives you the code but it declines. He tells you to flip the last two numbers and it unlocks.

You take out the key and let yourself in. You stay by the door, holding onto it as he angles through with the luggage. He groans as he puts it all down and kicks off his dock shoes. You look down and slip out of your slides. Your feet are filthy from running all around.

“I think there’s a shower upstairs, a couple of rooms. I can drop your bag in one while you get washed up,” he offers.

“You know what, think I can figure it out,” you snatch up your duffel and hike it onto your arm.

“Right, you go first, I’ll go after,” he shrugs, “I gotta make a few calls. Jacob’s mom has been blowing me up.”

“Okay,” you say just to say something. You can’t think about his problems too. Call you selfish but you just can’t handle anything else.

“Not your problem,” he says, “go, I’ll hold down the fort.”

He as good as shoos you away and you’re all too happy to take the out. You tramp upstairs and peer around. You find the bathroom first and toss your bag in the room next to it. You take out a fresh pair of pajamas, you only brought two sets, and search out the linen closet for a towel. You feel like an intruder but you’re too worn out to care.

You dip into the show and pull the door shut. God, the water is good. You could fall asleep standing up. You make quick work of scouring your body to avoid just that and dry off on the bath mat.

As you come out of the bathroom, you listen to the house. It’s quiet. Andy must have taken his call outside. Ugh, he’s an adult. He’s proven he can manage a lot more than you.

You fall into bed, cozy in your fresh shorts and tank top, and hug the pillow as you hook a leg around the duvet. Almost as quickly as you still, you’re out for the count. You drift off into an ocean of colours, swirling and streaming behind your eyelids, spinning you in a cyclone of obscurity.

You stir as you hear a subtle thud. A cool breeze blows from the floor vent and chills your exposed leg. Your shorts are trapped between your ass, an embarrassing scene if anyone was to see you. You roll over and conceal yourself in a cocoon formed with the fluffy duvet.

The door’s open... you swore you shut it. You’re so tired, you can’t remember. You don’t bother getting up. You’re too fucking dead.

You close your eyes and a long groan drones through the wall. The noise makes you rigid. Maybe choosing the room right next to the plumbing isn’t the best idea. You wiggle down further into the bedding as the shower thrums and another deep utterance rolls in.

You pull the blanket over your ears and try to tune it out. The steady spray can’t block out his grumbling voice. At first, you’re agitated. Why does he need to make so much noise? A shower isn’t that good—wait.

Your cheeks burn in realisation. He isn’t... he wouldn’t do that. Not right now. You can hear his voice, rhythmic and strained. Wow. Oh god. You cup your hands over your ears and bite down. Talk about embarrassing.

There’s a slap against the wall and a deep grunt. Jesus.

You roll your back to the wall and huff. You’re glad he has something to distract himself. You can barely focus on living.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #drabble #summer breeze #defending jacob

175 notes · View notes

someone-will-remember-us · 3 months ago

Text

Elton John and David Furnish have done it, and so have Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian and Kanye West.

There’s a bloke from Essex who recently joined the club via an undisclosed overseas location and a 72-year-old Scotsman has just been recognised as the legitimate owner of an American one he bought back in 2020.

What we are talking about here is surrogacy: the incubation and effective purchase of babies after the careful selection of their component parts.

The global market – already worth almost $18 billion (£14 billion) – is projected to rise to $129bn by 2032, according to the research firm Global Market Insights, with anywhere between 5,000 and 20,000 babies incubated to order annually.

This covers the whole caboodle in which you can DIY things with a friend at one extreme, or go for the full Lamborghini treatment where, in some countries, an agent will help you shop around the globe for the finest sperm, eggs and wombs money can buy.

For those opting for the international pick and mix route, there are BOGOF deals (two implants for the price of one), the option of sex selection and a pay-as-you-go plan.

And that’s because you, the customer, are always right. As one agency, New Life Conceptual Limited, based in Lagos, Nigeria puts it: “…it takes four ingredients to make a baby: an egg, a sperm, a womb to grow in, and a family to go home to. You have the last ingredient, but you need a place for your baby to grow, and that’s why you’re here.”

Some companies even offer legal guarantees around defective foetuses that have to be aborted.

If you think I’m making this up, think again.

In the UK, where commercial surrogacy is banned but international imports are not, there are now between 400 and 500 new surrogate-incubated babies registered each year, while globally the business is more than doubling in value every two years.

Some call it a “miracle” and point to the invisible hand of the market creating a profitable multi-billion dollar industry in which everyone wins; a benign system of supply and demand the libertarian economist Leonard Read might have called I, Baby.

And while there is no suggestion that the multi-millionaire celebrities who have used surrogacy, like Elton John and the Kardashians, have exploited the surrogate mothers who bore their children, for others – including feminists like myself – the global surrogacy trade reeks of false entitlement.

It has been sanitised by the liberal “rights” agenda and the same self-serving logic that brands prostitutes “sex workers”. If it brings to mind a book or essay, it is Brave New World, Aldous Huxley’s dystopian novel about social engineering and evil hiding in plain sight.

To what extent, for example, is the lack of regulation around surrogacy driving impoverished women into unsafe and unconsented arrangements, as it once did so extensively with domestic and international adoption?

And what do we really know of all those hundreds of Brits now shopping for children around the world.

Can it really be right that you can effectively buy a baby overseas but raise it in Britain where commercial surrogacy is supposed to be banned?

Just as in the 1950s, ‘60s and ‘70s, when we thought of adoption as a favour to unsuitable mums whether they be “wayward” teens or impoverished Mexicans, surrogacy is being sanitised.

Delve into the subject on the Internet and you will find that almost everywhere you look, it’s celebrated. These babies, magicked into welcoming arms, are seemingly a modern miracle for childless couples of every stripe. TikTok is full of it.

Here in Blighty, we have only “ethical surrogacy”, says Surrogacy UK, a leading non-profit “providing a safe, supportive environment for surrogates, intended parents and families”.

Such organisations emphasise the benefits to infertile couples, and the “great gift” bestowed by women (aged 16 or older) who are happy to “altruistically” lend their womb to another for nine months.

Whilst such arrangements do work for some, there is no reliable data on what is really going on in the UK. This is because the sector is governed by a bizarre mish-mash of statute and common law, and because regulation, where it exists at all, is opaque.

Echoing the words of a Tarantino script, surrogacy is legal in the UK but not a hundred per cent legal.

It’s legal to enter into an agreement with a surrogate, it’s legal to pay her “reasonable expenses”, and, if you’re the owner of a womb, it’s legal to grow a child (made with your eggs or someone else’s) and give it away once it’s born.

But it’s illegal to advertise you are looking for a surrogate in the UK or solicit for business if you want to become a surrogate. It’s also an offence to arrange or negotiate a surrogacy arrangement as a “commercial enterprise”, but that doesn’t really matter because, get this: “reasonable expenses” can stretch beyond the average annual wage.

If money is still an obstacle, you can always rent a womb from a woman in a country like California, Cyprus or Greece where for-profit surrogacy is legal, before bringing the child back home to the UK.

Another oddity of the UK system is that, while it is a criminal offence to advertise surrogacy services, there are “some exemptions for not-for-profit organisations”. It is not clear how these agencies are selected but they are organisations that officials at the Department of Health and Social Care deem trustworthy. It is how agencies like Surrogacy UK and Brilliant Beginnings are able to proactively recruit and advertise a willing pool of surrogates in Britain.

“All our surrogates benefit from being a part of our thriving community and can enjoy a range of events and gifts along the way,” says the Brilliant Beginnings website. “Surrogate retreats” and “milestone gifts” such as chocolates, flowers and even bellybuds - speakers that allow mothers to play music to babies in the womb - are all part of the service.

Brilliant Beginnings says “expenses” payments to surrogate mothers in the UK typically range between £12,000 to £35,000. It is not known how well off the typical UK surrogate is in relation to the intended parents check, but there is potentially a stark economic divide.

“For surrogates who receive means-tested state benefits, it is important to be clear about whether benefits might be affected by any expenses received,” says the Best Beginnings website. “We would always recommend surrogates are upfront with their benefits office”.

Evidence for the benefits and harms of surrogacy in the UK are almost entirely anecdotal.

Disputes do occur but no one really knows their frequency or what they entail because they are heard in the secretive Family Court, which sits mainly in private and from which detailed reporting is banned.

An obvious problem in the UK, is that the flash point for disputes typically arises after the fact - that is, after a child has been born. This is the point at which the intended parents (or parent) must apply to the Court for a “transfer of legal parenthood” and, in most cases, will be the first time the state even becomes cognisant of the surrogacy arrangement.

An application for such a transfer can only be made with the surrogate’s consent but the decision hinges on what the Court considers to be in the best interests of the child, not the surrogate mother.

“The parental order process takes place after birth and involves the family court, and a court-appointed social worker,” says the DHSC website. “This provides a valuable safeguard for the best interests of the child”.

There is a growing recognition that the regulation of surrogacy in the UK is inadequate but the agencies who run it want legislative reforms that favour the would-be parents rather than the surrogate mothers.

They are especially exercised about the fact that written agreements between surrogates and intended parents are ultimately unenforceable in the UK courts.

Others, including myself, want the practice banned – as it is in many countries across the world. Miriam Cates, the former Conservative MP for Penistone and Stocksbridge, caused a storm in January when she said surrogacy was “just ethically not acceptable”.

“Of course adults have a strong desire to be parents, both men or women. Of course it’s a sadness if that’s unfulfilled for whatever reason – they can’t conceive, don’t have a partner, whatever it is.

“But to deliberately bring a child into the world in order to separate it from its mother at birth I think is just ethically not acceptable,” she said.

Alan White, chairman of Surrogacy UK, told a webinar hosted by the Royal College of Midwives in February that those of us who see the practice as unethical and exploitative were limiting choice and free will because we failed to properly understand the motivations of surrogate mothers.

“Surrogates don’t see themselves as mothers, they see themselves as extreme baby-sitters,” he said. “[They are] doing that wonderful thing of doing the part of having children women or gay men can’t do for themselves”.

To survive the psychological impact of giving away a child, there is little doubt that this sort of thinking helps.

As Helen Gibson, the founder of Surrogacy Concern points out, surrogates are encouraged to see themselves as a bystander – just the “the oven” or “the microwave”, as some describe themselves.

But this sort of psychological dissociation doesn’t always work, and perhaps seldom does.

I spoke to one UK woman who feels deep regret at her decision to enter into a surrogacy arrangement. Sandra, whose name I’ve changed, was 32 with two children of her own. She had escaped a violent husband, and was struggling to make ends meet.

A friend suggested she could make money by carrying a baby for an infertile couple. And, after approaching a UK agency she found via Facebook, she was told that in return for having the baby, she could enjoy “unlimited expenses, within reason”.

She was introduced to a gay male couple who wanted her to carry an implanted embryo, engineered with selected eggs to give them the best chance of a “tall, blonde child”. Sandra, by contrast, is short and dark.

The embryo transfer failed three times, and the IVF process made Sandra extremely sick. Eventually, the couple decided to go to California, but not before admonishing her for wasting “their time, and a lot of money.”

“I felt like a broodmare,” she told me.

If the UK surrogacy market is a classic British muddle, the global market is the wild west.

And because no UK Court or Home Office official can possibly check the provenance of all the elements that go to make up a child (the sperm, the eggs, the IVF, or, crucially, the free agency of the surrogate mother), anything goes for the unscrupulous.

Although most countries around the world still ban the practice, there are more than enough who don’t.

In Greece and various US states including California, Washington DC and Arkansas, commercial surrogacy is fully legal. In many other countries it is either unregulated or very lightly regulated, enabling the trade to flourish. Countries in this bracket include Brazil, Mexico, Colombia, the Czech Republic, Argentina, Guatemala, Iran, Kenya, Nigeria, the Philippines, Russia and Ukraine.

WFI Surrogacy, one of America’s biggest providers, offers its customers what it calls a “live birth guarantee” – the promise that a birth will occur once the process is underway.

“The high quality of our egg donors and surrogate mothers enables us to make this type of guarantee”, says WFI. “Our live birth guarantee programs are available for either: singleton or twins [or] one specimen source or two specimen sources”.

“All our surrogate mothers are medically and psychologically screened,” it adds.

This is Big Fertility, whose business model relies on the commodification of every aspect of pregnancy.

A healthy overall budget for a Brit using the US surrogacy route sits between £250,000 to £320,000, according to the UK agency Brilliant Beginnings.

Often freelance agents or “fixers” will shop around the world for their clients to increase choice and reduce costs. A surrogate mum in Los Angeles, California costs a whole lot more than one from rural Mexico, for example.

Denmark has long been prized for its sperm, its tall blond donors making the most of their viking heritage.

For eggs, there are also options galore – and all pushed with a good dose of fairy tale genetics.

Egg Donor number “241222_01” on the World Center of Baby website (motto: every person deserves to be a parent) conforms precisely to the modern notion of female beauty as defined by Instagram.

Weighing in at just 66kg, she’s also “an artistic soul with a flair for creativity”. If you would prefer a sporty one, just go for donor number 241222_02 – “an athletic enthusiast, deeply engaged in fitness and sports”.

Embryos can be made up from the customers chosen eggs and sperm in any number of IVF labs around the world. They are then frozen and shipped to wherever the chosen surrogate may be. Fixers facilitate the entire process, including the negotiation of complex legal agreements and the careful arbitrage of international and domestic laws and regulations.

The wording of commercial surrogacy contracts is telling, the text reflecting the economic disparity between carrier and client.

“If Gestational Carrier suffers a loss of her uterus as a result of the performance of her obligations under this Agreement, she shall receive $5,000.00 from Intended Parents”, stipulates one contract.

It continues: “If Intended Parents jointly request Gestational Carrier to terminate the pregnancy because of the Child’s medical condition(s), she will do so promptly. If Gestational Carrier refuses to terminate, Gestational Carrier will have materially breached this Agreement and Intended Parents’ obligations under this Agreement shall cease immediately”.

Natalia Gamble, a director at Brilliant Beginnings, says the agency made an active decision “to only facilitate people going to places that we felt were ethical, secure, and safe”.

Although Ms Gamble is adamant that her approach is ethical, she helps clients go to Nigeria, Cyprus, and Ukraine, where commercial surrogacy flourishes.

“We made the active decision at Brilliant Beginnings to only facilitate people going to places that we felt were ethical, secure, and safe – we have very much focused on the US, but through our law firm (NGA Law) we have helped people go into places like Nigeria, Cyprus, and Ukraine because our role is much more not to help them do it in the first place but to help them bring their children home and resolve all the legalities afterwards,” she said.

Northern Cyprus even allows sex selection, with several clinics there advertising the service on their websites.

“The cases that are happening in Nigeria or Cyprus where it’s very unregulated and there’s no legal framework are a very, very small percentage of the overall international surrogacy landscape,” she said.

“We do need to be very alert to the risks of exploitation and those risks are greatest in places where there is no legal framework regulating how surrogacy is run [...] but, it’s about not overinflating those risks when the majority of people are going to what you might call ‘good surrogacy destinations’.”

Ms Gamble is pushing for a change to UK law that would grant commissioning parent(s) legal rights to the child (embryo) at the point of conception.

“It’s in the best interest of the child,” she says. “If you speak to any surrogate mother they will say ‘Look, I am not the mother of this child, I’m always very clear that it’s someone else’s child that I’m carrying’ – no one wants the surrogate mother on the birth certificate, including her.”

But is that really true – are surrogate mothers really so detached?

I spoke to Liane, who said her own experience of surrogacy caused “a huge amount of grief and hurt”.

She described the market as being infected with a sort of “toxic positivity”.

She added: “It’s painted as a wonderful thing to do, a beautiful selfless act which can only bring joy when for me, I felt used, manipulated, and devastated”.

Ms Gibson of Surrogacy Concern says cases involving “coercion and regret” are not uncommon, even within the UK’s surrogacy model.

“Surrogacy prioritises the wants of the adults ahead of the needs of the child, and creates a societal sense of entitlement towards women’s bodies,” she said.

The practices of single men buying children abroad, white couples using black surrogate mothers, and the growing trend towards using cut price surrogacy destinations such as Mexico, Colombia, Kenya and Ghana are all on Surrogacy Concern’s radar.

Physical harms to surrogate mothers are real. Carrying a baby always involves serious risk but, for surrogates, those risks are often greatly magnified.

Linda Khan, an epidemiologist based in the departments of Paediatrics and Population Health at NYU, says surrogates run an “increased risks of all kinds of pregnancy complications, which lead to adverse outcomes for women and children”.

One factor, she says, is that the embryo is not biologically related to the woman and implanted via IVF. Another is that “many women are carrying multiples because it’s so expensive. They want two for the price of one”.

“Twinning is not safe, even when it occurs naturally. It is a huge burden on women’s bodies, it gets all the risks of complications sky-rocketing.”

Whilst it would be difficult (though not impossible) to ban or abolish surrogacy entirely – changing laws to ban the ‘womb traffickers’ as many campaigners refer to the brokers, should be a priority.

The marketing of surrogacy should also be made subject to tougher regulation, say some experts, although many others favour a blanket ban.

“Surrogacy is a trade that makes commodities of children, of embryos and of eggs, and reduces women to being seen as machines,” said Ms Gibson. “It should not masquerade as a progressive solution to the problem of infertility.”

Further, any legal protections introduced in the UK should be for the benefit of the surrogate mothers giving birth and the babies, rather than for the commissioning parents or agents, adds Ms Gibson. A commissioning parent should never have a legal right to remove a baby if a woman has changed her mind.

In March last year, experts from 75 countries signed the Casablanca Declaration, which calls for a global ban on all forms of surrogacy. And in April this year, an international conference was held in Rome with an aim to provide all States with a legal instrument banning the practice of surrogate motherhood.

Implicit within it is a rejection of the fanciful and dangerous notion that anyone, anywhere has an inalienable right to a child.

“The regulations of each country are not enough to stop human trafficking globally,” said Bernard Garcia Larrain, the Executive Director of the Casablanca Declaration for the Universal Abolition of Surrogacy.

“We need an international treaty to prohibit surrogacy because this is a global market that moves a lot of money and knows no borders,” he added.

#radfem #radblr #radical feminism #gender critical #radical feminist #terfblr #radfem safe #terf safe #article #surrogacy

99 notes · View notes