#Style & the Family Tunes

[fieriframes]

[The neon sign hums, casting a faint, ghostly orange glow. A cup of cider steams, thick and dark, almost alive. The pumpkin pie gleams, its filling darker than it should be. Outside, fog crawls closer, pressing like fingers on the glass. The waitress smiles, her teeth too sharp, her eyes too empty. A clock ticks loudly, each second dragging like chains. Shadows in the corner shift, shapes forming, watching, waiting. The jukebox crackles on with a tune no one chose, slow and warped. Fries arrange themselves into shapes, letters that don’t quite make sense. Behind you, a whisper: your name, but not in any voice you know.]

[hiddenbeks]

u ever think abt ur ocs in a fighting game au,,

[fellhellion]

Love being invested in a relationship who’s trajectory we know literally nothing about yet (Miles 1 & Miles 2)

[aldieb]

thank you hype squad i came out to my mom and we didn’t argue 💚 i think this is gonna be a learning curve bc she was like “i don’t see people in terms of their gender first” and i was like “i agree!” and she was like “for example i see you first as my daughter, and then as an artist, and then…” but i am the most unbothered about this type of thing so it’s all gonna be good

[innocuous-gnome]

at any given moment i am vibrating with the need to infodump about vocaloid

[insanedoodler]

Color doodles, ink doodles and just random doodles

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

UNCOMFORTABLE SUBJECT MATTER MEETS TASTEFUL DESIGN AESTHETICS.

PIC(S) INFO: Mega spotlight on a promotional poster design for Tokyo, Japan-based DOOM metal band CHURCH OF MISERY, designed by Branca Studio for sale at Sonic Blast Festival, Âncora, Portugal, c. October 2023.

"No drone, no power ambient, let them eat DOOM!"

-- CHURCH OF SERIAL KILLER, Tokyo, Japan

Source: www.picuki.com/tag/japandoom.

[punkpendulum]

No offense to all my musician friends but I hate living with musicians. Stop making so much fucking noise I need to study and the amp is too loud and sound travels

[luludeluluramblings]

Socialite!BatSis!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Hi! I don't know where the fuck this came from. But, it has plagued me for months. Inspired by Labour and the Fruits by Paris Palmoa, Please Don't Cry for Your Daughters Eve by Lydia the Bard, and Curses by the Crane Wives. This my attempt at being dark, so either this fucks you up or I fucked up. Apologies for both.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Implied assault, neglect, yandere themes at the end

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You got the Wayne looks, the Wayne charm, the Wayne name, but you’re fragile. Bruce would tell you. Damian would tell you. (Not so kindly.) Everyone in the manor would tell you.

But, charm and good looks still have their uses. And, everyone in the family despises all the galas they need to attend.

So, when Bruce offers to take you to one, you up the charm, you dress your best. You use your finest manners and all the proper ways your Momma raised you to your advantage. And, you flourish.

You can tell from the slight smile Bruce has on his face on the way home. The hint of pride in his eyes at your job well done.

You can’t help your family or Gotham as a Bat. But, you can help them as a Wayne.

The socialite. That’s your roll. Not a bird, not a bat. A little social butterfly. Drawing the public attention away from the things that go bump in the night.

You like your role. Sure, you're not bounding over the Gotham skyline saving people from muggers and insanely themed villains. But, you're helping your family, and that's what matters to you.

At least, that's how it starts.

It was special to you in the beginning. Going to charity gala's and events with your father, Bruce. No one else in the family enjoys going to these events. It was your own personal father and daughter bonding time, in a way.

But, as you got older the pressure started and the distance between you and the others grew.

You were a music box ballerina. Spinning in place to the same tune over and over again while sitting on a dusty shelf. And, Bruce would wind you up to dance every time he need his social butterfly to charm Gotham's public.

Soon you had a whole team of faceless people picking out your dresses, changing your style, cutting your hair. You couldn't be anything less than a vain air-headed heiress, because that was your role. Brucie needed someone to follow in his footsteps, not Batman.

The dresses got more expensive, the flashes got brighter. The diets got stricter.

And, the distance grew farther.

And, then Bruce stopped going with you to the galas.

You weren't upset the first time. Or, the second time. Or, even the third time.

It was the fourth time that things started to crack.

Sure, Batman was needed. Sure, there was Justice League business. Sure, there was a patrol that ran late. Sure, there was a breakout at Arkham.

But, the fourth time, when you found him and the rest of the family laughing in the cave, it really didn't feel like they were focusing on the good of Gotham while you were struggling to smile sweetly at men twice Bruce's age wanting to take you home.

Still, you powered on. Kept doing your part. You were making the family proud afterall.

Right?

It was the ninth time it happened that you broke.

The nineth time you had gone to a gala alone in an expensive dress you didn't pick, one that showed off way too much skin. One that seemed to tell everyone in that grand ballroom that you were up for the taking. One that just barely hid the bruises from their fingers and palms under the fabric.

You wore that placating smile and that dress all the way home. With a driver you didn't know at the wheel of the car Bruce sent for you. The backseat empty even if you sat on it.

When you got home, you walk in on something that made each cracked piece of you ache.

Apparently it was game night. Everyone that mattered was playing Mario cart of all things.

"Look at that Cinderella’s back from the ball." Jason was the first to notice you standing in the doorway of the room. And, his words burned.

Cinderella. Cinderella. Back from the Ball.

"Hey, glad you’re back. Hope you had fun." Dick didn't even glance at you as he spoke, took focused on beating Stephanie who had her tongue sticking out as she concentrated.

"God, those galas are so boring, I don’t know how you do it." Duke says in passing. It would be meaningful if he hadn't said the same thing the last six times you had come home.

Tim and Damian were also playing the game, with Tim occasionally nudging Damian to mess him up. Like typical siblings.

Barbara was in the room as well, a book on her lab to read. Only you could tell she hadn't read much, judging from where her book mark was located.

"Good job." Bruce says absentmindedly. You can't even tell if its directed at you or at the blueshell Damian just managed to hit Dick's racer with.

Words don't even leave your lips as you exit the doorway, pieces of you falling to the floor as you wobble to your room.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

The clock striking twelve in your mind as you feel the rotten pumpkin sinking in your gut and the magic wearing off.

You don't notice that Cassandra seems to hear it too as she watches you. Like she can hear the shards falling to the ground. And, she's unsure if she needs to warn the family that something just broke down the hall.

As you enter your room, taking in the fancy decor. It feels disgusting. The magic is gone. It's all rotten and you want it gone.

Cinderella. Cinder. Cinder.

Your tear the fabric of the dress as you take it off. Tears falling down your cheeks s you struggle against the fabric and clasp. Expensive gemstones falling to the floor as your finally rip it free.

There bruises under your dress. Finger prints on your bones. And, you're choking on air as the fabric rubs your skin as it falls to the floor. The fabric ripples like water and you hate it. You want the opposite of cool rippling water. Water drowns, and you need air.

Your skin feels to hot and each bruise burns.

Cinder. Cinder.

You're Cinderella and you crave ashes. You need air, but smoke will do instead.

Instead of letting it lay on the ground like it's dead, you throw open that grand window in your room and chuck it out the window. Watching as it flutters and falls to the grass in a heap, the breeze doing nothing to cool your anger on and underneath.

It’s not enough. Not enough. It's not going to be enough.

More. Cinderella. Give it more.

Your closet door was cracked when you left for the gala tonight. Now you break it the rest of the way and grab each hanger carrying a pretty dress in a bag and throw it over the ledge.

Still not enough. Needs more ash.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

You break you dresser as you rip out the drawers. The wood splintering as you throw it out the window and on to the pile of dresses on the night dew covered grass.

You want to throw more, but you chest is heaving and your hands are shaking. Instead you stumble out of your room with just the bruises on your skin and towards the kitchen. You don't even hear the pans and cabinets doors slamming as you search for the matches.

Before you can find your light, you find a bottle of fancy wine. One that reminded you of the smell of this night.

You grab it, not caring that another bottle falls and shatters by your feet. Drawing attention, but not yours, as you finally find the matches and wobble out the door towards your pile of soon to be ash.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

You're laughing as you shatter the bottle on to the fabric. Lighting up a single match and then throwing the entire box at it the pile.

It catches light quick and the air around you finally matches the heat under your skin.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You can barely hear Bruce's voice from behind you as your laugh. Turing to face him and the rest of the family's horrified faces at the sight of you.

You can barely restrain the giggles.

“I’m Cinderella. Cinder fucking Ella.” You spin like the little figurine you are. Like the pretty paper ballerina before she burst into flame.

Bruce rushes towards you, words spilling from his lips as terrifying thoughts fill his head at the sight of the bruises illuminating your skin.

“What happened tonight?”

“You would know if you had been there. But, you weren't. You never are.”

“Listen, you said you liked the galas-“ Excuses, excuses. You made enough for him and the rest of them in your own head that you don't want to hear more spoken out loud.

“I did! I did! But, that was when I had my father there to keep me safe.” You mock, spinning out of reach and looking at the flames.

They don't last long. The wood from your broken dresser drawers the only thing keeping the fire going. The expensive fabric not lasting long at all. Pretty things rarely ever do.

“But, no. I’m just another little one of your pawns in this family. Only you didn’t fuckin’ train me on how to fight off wandering hands. You taught me that I just had to grin and bare it.” Bitterness trips from your lips as you wipe of that sweet tasting wine from the night off your mouth.

“What happened?” His voice almost shakes. Almost, but not quite. You were the fragile one. The paper ballerina. The little Cinderella of the family.

You weren't suppose to break under his care.

But, was there any care if he let you fall from the shelf after he so haphazardiously placed you on it between uses?

“I’m not a whore.” You whisper to yourself. Words that had been dying to say to the hands that touches to tonight. Words that you wanted to shove down the throats of the strangers that pinched your skin, that gripped you too tight and too close.

“I’M NOT A WHORE!” Instead you scream it at him. Uncaring if you don't look pretty and perfect while doing it. Uncaring if your voice cracks from the way the emotion bubbles from your chest.

Startling enough, Bruce wraps his arms around you. Like he was trying to shield you. Like he was trying to keep you safe. Like he should have done. It feels awkward and tight. Your arms pressed tightly to your chest at an awkward angle. Your legs giving out at you sob and scream at him.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t you touch me. Let me go— I don’t want you to touch me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m— I’m so sorry.” His whispers over into your hair as he clutches you close. So close that you feel more bruises forming on your skin.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

“I’m not—" Your voice breaking as you wail. Like the child you are in his arms.

Through your tears you watch Dick turn away, followed by the others. Cass lingering to brush your hair back as Bruce holds you tight.

You don't see his fist clench so tight his knuckles turn white.

You don't hear the silence in the cave as Jason changes out the bullets in his gun.

You don't feel the chill in the air as Damian scouts out the fancy house.

You don't feel the fear of God that Tim puts into grown men as that watch their wealthy drain to zero before their eyes on screens.

You don't watch as Barbara makes a few calls and plants evidence of crimes that can't be covered up.

You don't see Stephanie ripping out teeth.

You don't see Duke letting Gotham go dark as terror reigns for that one long night and day.

You just see Bruce, holding you close and apologize over and over again while Alfred puts out the flames behind you.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Yeah, I love the thought of Reader being the one to be the Socialite Wayne while everyone does vigilante stuff. But, interacting with Gotham’s elite would suck so much and so many things could go wrong.

A/N: Apologies if I missed the mark with it or if it’s all over the place.

A/N: I just really loved the imagery of standing in front of a fire of expensive burning dresses while screaming at Bruce naked as the day you were born much to the rest of the family’s horror.

[st4rbwrry]

𝓢𝓦𝓔𝓔𝓣𝓔𝓢𝓣 𝓣𝓗𝓘𝓝𝓖.     eren yeager.

❤︎ . . . 12k. fem!reader, set in 03’, established relationship, pregnant!reader, southern!eren, domesticity, difficult pregnancy / doubts, home birthing, marriage / vasectomy talk, mention of healthcare discrimination, lots of crying, oral ꒰ f. ꒱, gentle sex kinda, lots of kisses! + affirmations, praise, thumb in bootay, unprotected, sensitivity play, choking, lactation ‘n eren tastes it oopsie, nasty talk, creampie, pet names ꒰ sweetie, baby, mama, papa ꒱, spanking, daddy kink. minors aren't allowed! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. <3

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . officially obsessed w this couple so i couldn’t help myself by writing a third part teehee. happy belated valentine’s day <3 visual.

baby . . . i’m lonely. think i w’na baby. 

a conversation starter like that would only skyrocket the heart rate of any husband. eight years of marriage with just each other, and three with the addition of honeybelle, including the fifteen chickens, four piggies, and two baby goats on the farm alongside two of the cutest tawny cows you named tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum. every moment felt rewarding, so you questioned lately why you felt so . . lonely. for the longest time you didn’t quite understand what you were missing. the life you lived with eren was perfect. it was romantic, soft, relaxing. you couldn’t have asked for anything more. 

tending to the animals on a warm sunny day, you hum tunes to yourself as the goats follow and nudge at your toffee cowboy boots, giggling and picking juicy strawberries from their stems, enjoying their company. waffles, the tan goat with blotches of white rolls serenely in the grass while the other, miss daisie, who’s an all black goat with an almost heart-shaped spot on the surface of her skull, screams and sniffs at you, craving your attention. occasionally, you’ll reach down to give affection to satisfy her. 

a brown woven basket rests on the dip of your forearm, feet traveling along the iridescent field and dropping the fruit into a sea of fresh vegetables pulled off their roots from the garden, collecting just enough to make a few meals that require them. 

that day you had an interesting epiphany. the gravel in your front yard dances along the tires of a red pickup truck that pulls into your home. a sweet friend of yours named bea drops by with her three-year-old toddler, jason. the tiny human dressed in dark washed overalls with a teal shirt underneath, and boots whom she lifts up and rests on her hip before entering the home. 

“ ꒰♡꒱, darling. missed you so much. how are you?” instantly, she’s embracing you into a tight hug, pulling away to admire your looks. 

whenever she sees you, you’re radiant. cocoa skin, a shade darker than the last time she saw you, courtesy of the suns kisses. in few sections, your raven curls are wrapped in flawless fairy locs, styled half-up into an unruly bun. a silver heart locket containing your infamous black and white wedding day photo where eren dips you low in front of a willow tree around your neck, resting on the heat of your skin radiating a fragrance of vanilla bean. the minimal hairs on your body fuzzing up when the sunlight hits where you stand by the massive bay windows overlooking your landscape. 

almond irises and beautiful full lips, slightly taller than bea by a full foot. rustic boots, an ivory flowy skirt that sits well on your curvy hips and cascades down to your ankles, pairing it with a white laced top and a matching bandana atop your head. 

“i’m doing good. up to my usual pastime of holding down the fort and cooking,” you beam, scanning her from head to toe. “you look gorgeous, how are you and the family?” 

bea’s a gorgeous woman. you notice her face is a bit chubbier, adorable pointed chin, button nose, and curly auburn hair that rests on her shoulders. caramel complexion, light voice and the prettiest hazel eyes. her son is an exact replica of her, catching a glimpse of the angel she made as he giggles and plays with honeybelle, her two inch tail wagging as she chases him around the dining room. 

“jason’s doing pretty well, we’re just coming from a doctor’s appointment, actually. just found out today that he’s going deaf in his right ear,” bea builds up the courage to weakly smile, your body pausing its movement from situating dried dishes, needing to get dinner started for eren. 

“oh my goodness, i’m sorry to hear that,” frowning, you hold a hand over your heart, the sadness in your eyes unable to shield. “how are you taking that?” 

“it’s okay, i’m okay. his overall health is what matters most to me. things like this are just something you have to prepare for being a parent,” she nods, glancing at her son. “he’s still happy as ever.”

“right,” you purse your lips. “that’s good. i’m glad. he’s a sweetheart. and armin?” 

“yeah, he’s great. been working a lot more lately, for good reason. gotta cold right now so he’s been restin’.” 

“oh no, i can drop a pot of chicken soup tomorrow if you’d like? i know you’ve got that conference with the ladies at church comin’.” 

bea takes a seat at one of the wooden chairs you have placed against the kitchen island, resting her chin into her palm as she graciously pouts. “you are the sweetest, ꒰♡꒱. i see why eren’s so smitten of you.” 

warmth flows to your cheeks from the mention of him, never changing. 

“the man’s a sap,” you roll your eyes, wedding ring shining in the light as you go to retrieve ingredients from the fridge alongside a gift you had for her. 

“oh! almost forgot,” pulling out a basket, bea gasps as you place it in front of her. 

the basket contains fresh milk from the cows placed into a carafe with a swing top to secure it, decadent, fist sized blueberry muffins you baked yourself, of course, wrapped in beeswax paper decorated with butterflies and leaves. even a few red apples and oranges picked from the garden, bea’s favorites. 

“oh, honeybee, bless your soul. thank you!” 

you bow your head. “ ‘course, i told you i’d have a lil’ treat for you.” 

grabbing a few extra base ingredients; packaged seafood from the farmers market and a bottle of wine, you go to pour yourself a glass. “you w’na glass? i’m makin’ a big pot of seafood gumbo if you w’na stay and have dinner with us. eren’s been craving it.” 

“ooh, i’d love to, but armin wants us home before sundown. he gets really fussy about me taking long distance drives without him, especially with jason.” 

“awe, he’s protective. eren’s kinda the same. he has a heart attack every time i run out for something. he taught me how to drive ‘bout two months ago, but i’m still kinda rusty. got me that buggy out front.” 

“i did see it! that’s the cutest car ever. it’s about time you learnt how to get on the road.” 

you shrug. “my anxiety was kickin’ my ass for the longest. i can still be his passenger princess. he knows not to get comfortable,” you grin smugly, the two of you sharing a laugh before you reach for the second glass for bea, only to have her wave her hand to reject. 

“no wine for me, thanks. i can’t.” 

“mm? how come?” brow raising in curiosity, you push the cork back inside, resting a hand on your hip that you pop out. 

the dimple in her right cheek sinks in as she draws her lips inwardly, hands going down to her stomach, rubbing in a circle motion with bright eyes. your eyes dart from her baby bump she hid well underneath her black dress, up to her eyes again in shock. gasping, your hands go over your mouth. 

“no fuckin’ way! oh my god, another one?!” 

“another one! we’ve been waiting to tell everyone, but i’m ’bout four months out.” 

“holy shit, congratulations!” 

rushing around the counter, you give her a hug, rocking side by side. “oh wow, that’s such good news. does jason know?” 

“not yet, i’m kind of scared to tell him. although he’ll notice when i start blowing up. he likes his own company. a sibling is a big change.” 

“i can understand that, i haven’t any siblings so i adapted to that. i wouldn’t mind having a sister or somethin’.” 

“what about you?” bea suddenly questioned. 

as you begin to chop up veggies, you stare at her confused. 

“a baby. you guys been married for a long time. never thought about it?” 

that’s the question of all questions, one you’ve avoided your entire marriage. of course, it’s been discussed, the second year of your relationship actually. which is why you were strict on birth control given your equal sexual infatuation. it was too risky, so you took the safe option. for the longest time all you ever wanted was him, your home, and your animals. a baby was never in mind. you found it nauseating to think of, actually.

“it’s been talked about once or twice, but never to a point of coming to an agreement. eren’s okay with how our lives are now, and frankly, so am i. i don’t see a baby for us, or any time soon. i don’t dislike them, but i’m not so sure if i’m fit to be a mother. there’s a lot of sacrifices that come with that.” 

bea nods understandingly, deciding to chalk the conversation and talk of other things. as you stir the roux until you get a perfect chocolate color, you chat with her until the sun sets, occasionally glancing at jason who sits on the ground coloring in his book, fluffy blond hair tousled around his small face. you can’t help this odd feeling in your chest as you look at him, even when hearing bea talk about the new baby. you can’t shake that hunch that maybe, just maybe, it could be a possibility. far away from now that is. 

seeing your husband walk through the front door to greet your friend and kiss you on the cheek, attired in work clothes and watching him interact with the child with the widest smile on his face made your chest clench. tickling him after washing his hands, giving high fives and engaging in conversation with bea as he sits on the floor with him, right leg propped up while his large body leans down to color with him. 

it almost made you tear up, wondering how he’d be with your child. he’s an amazing man, and your positively sure he’d be an even better father. it was a tough decision. the good thing about eren is that he was an attentive listener, action based, willing to understand your feelings and concerns while coming to a conclusion, knowing you have such a bad habit of closing in. so it made it easier to come to him about a lot of things that weighed on you. 

sending off bea with a container of gumbo, you both say your goodnights to her, eren watching as she enters her car safely and drives away before shutting the door and pulling you in close for hugs and smooches. after having dinner, cleaning up and showering, in the plushness of your king sized bed, candles lit and law and order on play, that’s when you bring the conversation up while applying shea butter to your legs anxiously. 

easing in slowly, you decide to test the waters by saying something that, even though you were unsure of, was technically a true feeling. 

“baby . . . i’m lonely. think i w’na baby.” 

maybe you weren’t fit to be a mother. 

maybe this was punishment. that sinking fear you had for the entirety of your marriage about having children was right all along. you were scared. maybe this baby hated you, knew you weren’t the right person to bring them into this world. that’s why it’s been giving you the worst pregnancy known to man. or maybe your body just wasn’t built to carry a child. 

countless of doctors, a therapist even, and no one fixed that insecurity within the chromosomes of your brain. morning sickness should never start with ‘morning’, because it’s all day, every day damn near. you can’t indulge in your favorite foods anymore, walking is painful because your feet are blown up and you can no longer fit half of your closet. you cry almost every single day, and you feel bad because eren constantly worries about you. it’s just as upsetting for him. 

the incessant fatigue, headaches, backaches, occasional pelvic pain, heartburn, and multiple obgyn appointments of them telling you that all of your symptoms were normal, that there was nothing to worry about. neither of you were fond of the idea of taking tons of medications, and it became not only exhausting, but you felt embarrassed by how many times you had eren rushing you to your primary doctor. 

the first trimester seemed to be the most difficult period to which you experienced the most discomfort. you figured it was natural given your body has never been in this state before, it’s slowly transitioning. this wasn’t just a period with regular cramps, you were creating a child inside of you. that itself was terrifying, yet exciting. because in the end you know it’ll be worth it. to see both of your faces morphed into one angelic being crafted out of love. this was your first baby, so of course you were preparing for possible difficulty. you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. 

you’d spend days on end researching and finding other women whose experiences were the same. it eased you to some degree to discover you weren’t alone. then came the third trimester, and the horrible symptoms you faced from the start reappeared. you believe it’s because you were getting closer to birth. 

hating the way your mind conjured up the worst thoughts, you found yourself falling into depression. eren did his best to make sure you had everything you needed. taking time off from work to tend to you. he wasn’t the best in the kitchen, and sometimes you’d have to come help him, much better on the grill. even the extravagant ones he tried to surprise you with. though most of the time you could only eat half before you started to get nauseous. 

he took care of the farm, carried you up and down the stairs, stayed up half the night at times to study healthy exercises to practice together, and continued therapy with you. he made the process so much better. always kissing you, telling you how beautiful you were even if you didn’t feel it, gave you massages and ran you baths. even if all of it was sweet, you felt like a weakling. like he was your caretaker and you were an old ass lady. 

only he’d reassure you after you weep and sniffle in your hands by saying, “mama, i’m your husband. i’m deeply in love with you, ‘n will always be. the very least i can do, especially when you’re doing the hardest fuckin’ part which is carrying our child, is take care of you. so stop all that cryin’ and come cuddle.” 

times when check ups were happy days, and you could see your baby on the monitor as the nurse rubs the transducer over your overgrown belly, that vertical dark streak on the middle the cutest thing eren’s ever seen, often kissing it as he placed his ear to your belly to feel the baby kick — turned bad. the baby was healthy, that was the great thing. sitting low in your belly just ready to be out the womb. it’s when the pain pummels harsher that causes concern. 

one day they’re telling you that your fine, then the next you’re having trouble breathing, sleeping, horrible tailbone pain and even worse pelvic pain. you think the worst part of it all is seeing the repeated stress on your husbands face. the dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, forehead creases, brittle hair, it broke your fucking heart. to see him sitting beside you as he irritably bounces his right leg while clasping his hands together and leaning forward in an almost scolding manner. listening to the nurse reexplain shit you’ve heard too many damn times. 

their methods weren’t working, and no matter how many times you expressed how you felt, it feels like it went through one ear and out the other. taking notice of it mostly when you came by yourself, and instantly you knew something was off. so you started coming with eren. you’ve lived in this town for more than eleven years, on the outskirts of georgia at that. at times you forget that not everyone’s empathetic, or open to the idea of you as a black woman. a pregnant one at that. you refused to take any more medicine. if an emergency labor needed to happen, you were willing to do whatever it takes. 

then, eren finally snaps, because he knows it’s deeper than surface level shit. 

“there have been too many occurrences where my wife has informed y’all multiple times about the pain she’s experiencing, and y’all brush it off ‘n tell her to go home, sleep it off, take this medication, rest. at this point, i’m startin’ to realize y’all aren’t listenin’ to her pain. you’re blatantly ignoring what the fuck she’s saying, and i don’t mean to get disrespectful, so excuse me for my mouth, but i’m fed the fuck up.” 

“i’m sorry, mister yeager. there’s not much else we can do but see how her body responds to —”

eren hastily stands to his feet, and your eyes bulge in slight fear, reaching to grab his bicep as he keeps his focus on the perinatologist, surprise in his eyes from eren’s defense. 

“i couldn’t give less of a shit ‘bout any of that. the only, and i mean only time y'all show her some form of care for her health is when i’m here. every time when i’m not, i’m hearing stories ‘bout how y'all sending her home tellin’ her she’s fuckin’ fine when she’s not fuckin’ fine. i have to see this shit firsthand, not you. i know exactly what the fuck this is, do not play with me.” 

what makes this out of the ordinary is that you’ve never heard eren raise his voice in your life. whenever he was upset, he usually spoke in a stern, collected manner. this made you uncomfortable, the bellow of his tone and even the shock in the nurse’s features. swallowing, you pick yourself up to outstretch your hand over your heavy belly and slowly slid off the geri, eren’s head cautiously knocking in your direction regardless of the tension in the room to help you. 

his hand goes around your waist, giving you a look to ask if you were good before you nod in response, too embarrassed to eye the nurse and apologize out of uneasiness. that would only drive eren mad, knowing he’d tell you not to apologize for shit because he didn’t deserve it. he could see it written on your face. you were too damn kind to those who weren’t worthy. 

“let’s go, baby. you are never comin’ back here. y'all better be damn lucky i ain’t suin’ y'all.” 

the day was so vague you could remember him holding your hand as you waddled to the car, rubbing your belly and staring at the back of his head in silence. knowing he needed it for a minute. he secures you in before sitting in the drivers seat and sinking back to meditate, eyes shut and chest carefully rising and falling. nibbling at your lip, you rub his arm to transfer your soothing energy. your touch makes him crack a weak smile, turning his head as he lays back to stare at your pretty face. 

eren rubs his thumb over your hand, bringing it up to kiss the back of it. “i’m sorry you had to see me raise my voice. i don’t like gettin’ outta character in front of you. you know that.”

“it wasn’t uncalled for, your emotions are valid. i appreciate you for protecting me. i think i’ve long accepted that not many people care too much about specific women’s health. it’s a sad realization, but i know i’ll be okay,” you speak softly, bringing your face closer to his to rest with him. “we’ll be okay. the baby is healthy, and pain is temporary.”

what comes next is almost scarier than this whole ordeal. eren takes a deep inhale, grabbing your face to press his forehead to yours before releasing a trembling breath, tears beginning to stream down his face as he cries. finally. locking it away to stay strong for you. the thump in your chest hurts, really fucking bad. witnessing your husband weep as he holds you, clenching his jaw, sniffling, and choking out a small cough. kissing your lips to tell you he’s okay was sentimental. he just wants the best for the both of you. the pain of a father and a husband. 

you’ve seen him cry, only one other time when his father passed away. the grief, hatred, and acceptance encased all into one as you held him in your arms by the fireplace on the living room floor, funeral clothing on you both, letting him take the time he needed. wiping his face, you kiss all over it, rubbing his broad back before giving him a warm embrace. 

“it’s g’na be okay, sweetie,” a hand smooths down the back of his head, cringing at the greasiness of his scalp. “you need a wash day.” 

both of you laugh in unison, eren sniffling and releasing a guttural ‘ugh’ as he clears himself up. “sorry, papa hasn’t been givin’ sexy, blue collar country boy lately.” 

“shush, boy,” you giggle, sitting fully into your seat. you stroke his face, staring intensely into his moss and smoky toned eyes. his lashes are long, hair disheveled into a manbun with tendrils on either side of his bushy eyebrows. the faint line of hair he has directly above his lip always an attractive feature. “you’re always sexy, daddy. even on rough days.” 

“mm, i love you, baby. so much,” eren leans in to kiss the bridge of your nose before interlocking your lips, one hand on the wheel as he arches over the center console. 

your hand crinkles his white tee, whimpering into his touch when his other hand goes to touch your lower back side, arching you into him, moving your lips with his. “eren?”

“mm,” he groans, mouth getting rougher. “miss you so fuckin’ much. you been lookin’ so good lately, mama.” 

pouting, you pull yourself away. “don’t get me riled up, mister yeager. i can’t do what i w’na do to you.” 

eren sits back, chuckling as he scratches the small stubble he has on his chin with his thumb, grinning, smile lines deep and teeth bright and perfectly aligned outside of the pointy canines he possesses. 

“you right.” 

“mhm.” 

“all shit aside, pretty. your health is my biggest fuckin’ priority. when we get home, ima order some chinese and we can look more into that midwife bea talked about. huh? that sound good?” 

“sounds perfect,” you rub at your stomach with both hands, eren placing his hand there as well as he starts up the truck. “oh, don’t forget that head gettin’ washed. grease bandit.” 

“yeah, yeah.”

after a deep, foamy scalp cleanse infused with lavender, eren sits on the fluffy rug on your bedroom floor with a baby pink spa towel wrapped around his head as he types and scrolls on his dell laptop. next to him in a butterfly position, digging into your lo-mein with wooden chopsticks inside the traditional takeout box with a red pagoda imprinted on the front. matcha green jelly eyepatches covering your dark circles, eren wearing some as well. 

you’re dressed in a black polka dot camisole with lace trimmings and matching shorts that your body eats up and shrinks. the two of you stay up until one in the morning, taking notes and searching for reliable sources. eren found out that he could get you someone called a doula, who will provide you with medical guidance and emotional support during your final stages of pregnancy. booking a few consultations for midwives as well. indefinitely, you felt very optimistic about this. you’d even find yourselves making little image boards for your baby, whom you soon discovered a beautiful surprise from. 

you received the envelope a while back, but the two of you chose to wait for the right moment considering the events happening. hand in hand at the bakery a few days later, eren requested a gender reveal cake where he drove an hour out of town back where your father resided to find the willow tree the two of you got married under. laying out a picnic blanket, there showcased the plain oval cake reading ‘it’s a . .’ with half plain for eren and half supreme pizza for you. chocolate covered strawberries to feast on after, and cranberry juice since it was the closest taste you could get to wine. 

it wasn’t a big deal to you whether it was a girl or boy, you’d love them endlessly. it would be no greater feeling than to have any baby laying in either of your arms, or the perfect beige nursery you and eren decorated together. you’ll admit you got emotional as both of you held a glass, tears running ferociously down your face, preparing to scoop either side of the cake, awaiting the reveal. 

“oh my god, oh my god. i’m scared. this is scary.” 

“eight months of pregnancy, and this what you scared ‘bout?” eren lifts a brow, your mouth curving up as you pop his shoulder. “꒰♡꒱! c’mon. i w’na see, girl.” 

“okay, okay. whew, i’m sorry. i’m ready.” 

pushing your glasses into the cake with eyes shut tight, you slowly pop open one eye to see the color, gasping and bouncing in your spot at the pink inside, weeping and wrapping your arms around eren’s neck as he rocks you side to side in happiness. 

“it’s a girl, it’s a girl!”

screeching in his face as you plop back down, you see the tinge of sadness on his face, furrowing your brows as he blinks away his tears that were coming too fast for his liking. 

“sweetie, what’s wrong?”

eren sniffles, clenching his jaw and turning his head out of view. “i’m g’na need another gun.” 

sucking your teeth, you nudge his shoulder. “oh, boy!” 

burying his face in his hand and wiping his eyes, eren chortles. “i’m serious, two precious things to protect, oh my fuckin’ days i’m g’na have a heart attack. the fear. gimme sum water.” 

“erennn, stop! asshole,” the laugh coaxes out of you, seriously watching his features as you pick at the hem of your dress. you know he’s dead serious, but you want to make sure he’s happy about it. “is a girl not what you wanted?” 

eren almost malfunctions. “are you kidding? a baby is what i want. i could give a damn ‘bout the gender. fuck, she’s g’na look just like you. the prettiest face.” 

that makes you cry again, mushing your lips with his passionately and squealing excitedly. 

after your picnic, eren took you to speak to your mother at her gravesite, awakening her tombstone by adding daises and sunflowers. you update her on the past few months, apologizing for not speaking to her for a while since you’ve been occupied, and mentioning how much you adored eren who currently spoke to his mother at her stone. it was refreshing, a mental cleanse. 

inquiring a midwife and doula was the best decision for not only your pregnancy, but your marriage. strictly requesting a top holistic woman of color for obvious reasons, their methods made you more comfortable in your body, and even anticipated to push out your little bun. the past few weeks have really been a breeze, and you felt so much healthier, and light even though little girl kicked like a motherfucker and sat low as hell. 

with each consultation, eren sat by your side to observe every interaction, coming to an agreement after two interviews. whoever you felt the safest to handle you, he was up for it. luckily for you, the doula and midwife were associated under the same company. when they arrived for the first time, rose being the doula, and valeria being the midwife, observed your home and discussed plans on pursuing a home birth. 

due to uncertain circumstances, you felt more at peace having your baby in the home where her future will begin. unmedicated and with your husband and people you trusted. they ordered an inflatable tub for you since the moment they stepped into your bathroom and saw the clawfoot tub, immediately shook their heads in disapproval. they even made you get inside to prove why it’d be bad. there wouldn’t have been enough room for you to move when you had to. 

the days were flying by, due approximately in three weeks. today was a friday, which also happened to be valentine’s day. it was warm outside, usher’s new album confessions playing soundly from your silver jensen stereo. all of the windows in the home were open, letting in the breeze as you exhale deeply. currently, you were up to another session of stretches and workouts. 

“doing good, baby girl! make sure you keep your back straight. twirl those hips for me, we gotta target that girdle pain. work that pelvic area!” 

“i’m hungryy,” you manage to weep, hands leveraging your hips as you motion your lower halve in circles atop of the baby pink birth ball. 

“it’s ’cause your husband out there havin’ a whole cookout,” rose laughs, 

“he always cooks for all the women in the neighborhood on valentine’s day,” your cheek rests on your shoulder from adornment, watching him through the window that faces the backyard where smoke fills the air along with the thick smell of barbecue. 

eren’s wearing his favorite fitted black cap with a white embroidered nba logo placed on the nape, shifted backwards on his head, chestnut hair leveled to his jaw in wavy ringlets after giving him a cut. a plain white t-shirt, and dark 501 levi jeans that fit his thighs almost snugly, still giving him enough room to appear loose. the watch you’d gotten him for your fifth anniversary on his dominant wrist as he brushed the ribs with his special sauce while his other hand, paired with a slim silver cuban link, sipped on a budweiser. 

it didn’t help that you were practically riding this ball right now while you look at him as he does nothing but grill, drink, and stare at the lake while occasionally checking on you through the window. or, perhaps, the huge belly in your way. zoning out and daydreaming the most disgusting things briefly before you knock yourself out of it, forgetting you have company. he looked irresistible. it’s been driving you off edge for a long time, forgetting the last time you’ve had sex. it had to have been about three months, take away last month when he ate you out on the recliner. 

it was so annoying how raging your hormones were ever since you got pregnant. might you add, four months after the ‘i w’na have a baby’ conversation. you were almost sure you’d have sex every time he came home from work. it wasn’t intentional, although you did hold back on your birth control, and condoms weren’t neither of your things. finding out was just a non-panicked ‘uh oh’ when you showed him the test as he sat on the toilet handling business and you brushed your teeth while staring at it the entire time. eren was ecstatic overall. 

you wanted him so bad, missed him so bad. he’s been so respectful of your healing process that it makes you hornier at the thought. also, he makes fun of you for being his ‘stalker’ as if you haven’t been married forever, constantly watching him every day. you’ll be reading a book, watching tv, or cooking something you’re craving and there he is mowing the lawn, feeding the chickens, cleaning his truck, on the grill — too many things he does turns you on naturally. 

“ ꒰♡꒱?” 

“wha—huh?” 

“up, chile. we’re g’na do these last stretches so we can have you rest for the day,” valeria chirps, gently clapping her hands together and holding out her palms to help you stand. 

“oh, okay!” 

“you alright?” rose checks in, ordering a few things you needed for the upcoming labor visit. she noticed you checked out for a while. 

clearing your throat, you nod like a bobble head, curving your lips in tight doing an awkward smile. “yeah! i just . . have an . . inappropriate question.” 

valeria stands behind you as she lowers you to sit on the yoga mat by your underarms. “i doubt it can be inappropriate. we are nurses, heard everything under the sun. okay. . . starting with happy baby!” 

groaning, you steady your breath before raising your legs, making sure they were spread far apart and lowering your knees to your side. being thirty-four weeks and thirty-six centimeters had you feeling like a whale. at least you were a cute whale. you also had an endearing fascination with your belly, often spending time with your daughter by massaging shea butter delicately over her home or having full conversations. it was your soft moments of bonding. so, she was well moisturized all the time, rarely any stretch-marks.  

you were fond of your overall growth to be honest. your appearance didn’t change much other than the obvious. your feet were a little chubbier, and your boobs only grew one bra size. skin care was a priority since you were paranoid of a bunch of insecurities, so you glowed and got hundreds of compliments. eren surely had an infatuation with you being pregnant. if the man couldn’t keep his hands off you before, it certainly became an addiction now. 

“okay, this is a bit personal. but, me and eren haven’t had sex in like three months. he’s done . . things, even helped me wax her. so i don’t think i’m insecure about how she looks per-say. i was just wondering if it’d be safe to do in the third trimester. my hormones make me feel horny, but i’m kinda scared.” 

rose and valeria manage to cackle in unison, a pout on your lips as you raise to do your deep side to side squats, valeria making sure to stay close by for balance. “seriously y’all, i w’na have sex. y’know how much okra water he’s been having me drink? she’s slippery!” 

“my god,” rose shakes her head. 

“well, the answer is yes, you can certainly have sex. it’s perfectly healthy. just remember to take it slow since you are due in three weeks. little angel could fly out any minute.” 

“fly?!” you shrieked. 

“jokesss, oh my goodness. don’t scare her, valeria. this is her first baby!” 

“sorry, sorry! sex is good! nothing bad will happen. so, have plenty of it. well, not too much though, just enough. you see where these poses got you in the first place,” valeria says, laughing as you groan knowingly. “move into the child pose and we’re all done!” 

lowering yourself down to your knees, you get into a doggy position and stretch your arms straight ahead of you, stomach hanging. “i was just thinking ‘bout how much i missed him, and we haven’t fully connected like that in a while. i hold it very spiritually in my mind. i think it will be good for both of us, especially before lil’ mamas gets here.” 

“it is valentine’s day. let’s hope he gives you a good ass time. he’s showing off right now, and he’s been staring at your ass.”

that makes you laugh hard, really hard. though instantly after, you feel a sharp pain stab at the side of your hip, wincing and hissing out loud, dropping your head and whimpering from the ache. both women rush by your side quicker than you could blink. 

“꒰♡꒱, what is it?” rose asks, crouching to be eye level. 

“it’s just that stupid random pinch i get, probably just pulled it a little,” scrunching your face up, you sit on the balls of your feet as your midwife observes. applying pressure to the spot your holding. “she’s a heavy girl.” 

“alright, honey. let’s finish for today. you’re probably overexerting yourself. i’m g’na heat up some essential oils and give you a massage before we wrap up, okay darlin’?” 

smiling graciously, you nod. “thank you both. a massage would be lovely.” 

“who’s givin’ my wife a massage?” 

suddenly, your husband walks in, holding up a tinfoil pan of ribs, chicken wings, and burgers. shirt riding up showcasing his dark happy trail, devilishly sharp v-line and the navy blue boxers tight on his skin. he’s watching you the whole time, noticing your upturned face and removing the toothpick from his molars. “mama, what’s wrong?” 

“i’m okay, sweetie. i just have some tension in my hip. she might’ve been moving as i was.” 

eren approaches you in three long strides, the carabiner with numerous keys among other trinkets hooked to his belt loop hitting against his thigh, soon crouching before you to hold out his hands he’s wiped clean. 

“c’mon, lemme help you up. you sure you good?” 

“mhm,” he’s lifting you as if you’re still the lightest thing in the world, staring at his body, sniffing his nautica cologne discreetly as he turns to look towards the other women. 

“what‘s goin’ on?” 

“i’m g’na give her a deep tissue massage before we wrap it up for the day. she’s doing good, just might’ve hurt herself while laughing and stretching.” 

“laughing ‘bout what? y’all talkin’ ‘bout me?” eren’s bushy brow arches, slanted eyes finding yours again. 

“oop,” rose purses her lips, turning her head. 

blushing from his amused tone, you answer, “just girl stuff. it made me laugh.” 

“baby, you gotta be careful.” 

“i am,” you huff irritably, rolling your eyes. he stares, your mood flipping within two seconds. 

“i think one more stretch could help before that. eren, would you mind helping her out?” rose asks. 

“sure thing,” he’s pulling you in by your waist. “doin’ the tummy lift?” 

“yes sir. just be super gentle as usual. while you hold the baby up, i’ll put some pressure on her hip.”

eren listens to their instructions, standing behind you and pressing your back to his chest. both of his calloused palms lay on either side of your tummy underneath, keeping his focus on your face to stay alert of any discomfort. he practices the breathing exercises he was taught with you, delicately lifting your stomach to give relief to your pelvis. 

“mmm,” moaning peacefully, your eyes falter shut as you rest your head back on eren’s chest. he kisses your forehead, valeria crouching underneath, sliding your periwinkle yoga pants down your waist just enough to lather and knead the oil into your flesh. 

“is that lavender?” 

“yup! lemongrass and chamomile, too.” 

“it’s soo good,” you whined, her technique making you want to drool. 

“it’ll help with the pain a lot. i’ll make sure to leave some here, eren. you can do this a few more times for her until it’s gone.” 

“anything she needs.” 

“he’s so sweet and cute, i love him,” you smile widely, reaching up to cup his jaw, eren humming and mushing his cheek to yours. 

“the sweetest,” rose agrees. “are you passing out platters to the whole neighborhood, eren?” 

“yeah, i usually give it to all the ladies who ꒰♡꒱ is close to, or buy her goodies. i’m g’na make y'all a plate to go. ꒰♡꒱ made some candied yams, and i did the potato salad.” 

“it better not be no raisins in that salad,” valeria squints her eyes playfully up at him. opening your eyes, you get what she was hinting at, trying not to burst out laughing. 

“nah,” eren chuckles, understanding as well. 

“it’s my ma’s recipe. promise, it’s real good.” 

“it is, i promise,” you vouch. 

“i trust your judgment then.”

a couple of hours had passed until the sun died down. this was your favorite time of the day to unwind. a vinyl on spin, room 112 to be exact. candles lit, the low muffle of the television streaming sex and the city, and the softness of your cloud duvet. as you sip on your cranberry juice poured into a wine glass, cheating your brain into thinking it’s red wine — you rest up against the ten’s of pillows decorated along the headboard to support you. the air conditioning kept the room icy cold like you adored, your hair was tossed up into a messy bun, and a silk pearl robe adorned your skin. 

hearing the sound of the shower stop as you write in your journal, you twinkle your toes and gaze up at the ceiling where fifty, yes fifty, heart shaped red and pink balloons floated. just this morning, eren woke you up with the prettiest surprise of breakfast in bed, a pregnant friendly mimosa, strawberries that were cut into hearts, and fluffy belgian waffles with turkey bacon. the room was filled with light, roses spread along the entire bedroom and bedding alongside a giant blooming bouquet of red roses and calla lilies. 

the strings sway around the room still from the air conditioner, smiling sweetly as you daydream of the morning, stuffing your face with the breakfast he made and watching him open the walk-in closet to show you the new vintage vanity he’d built for you. the way he showed his love for you could move mountains. 

closing your journal, you can’t help but pout as you feel yourself beginning to tear up. you couldn’t stand when all of your emotions would hit you at once. thinking of your baby, your marriage, how difficult this pregnancy started off, and even how much you wished your mother were here to witness and guide you through it all. 

“fuckin’ hell,” you set your book on the nightstand where the floral beige lamp illuminated the entire room with light. 

whimpering and wiping your face, the small sound causes your husband to whoosh his head out of the bathroom door in fear, toothpaste covering his lips as he stops brushing his teeth, towel draped around his waist and hair sleek down his structure. 

“unh uh, what’s wrong, baby?” quickly, he rinses his mouth before coming toward you, your lips curving inward as he leans over your frame with his fists on either side of you. 

all you can do is stare down at his towel lewdly showing the imprint of his dick sitting on his thigh. 

“huh? talk to me.”

“i’m okay. i’m just thinking about a lot.” 

“don’t short yourself. y’know i don’t like that shit,” his jaw clenched, waiting for a real answer.  

sighing, you sniffle and sit yourself up higher. eren reaches for your feet to rub on, smoothing his hands up and down your calves. the touch makes you swallow, trying to calm yourself down. he smelt really good, always did but he bought a new body wash that held bergamot undertones. hair appearing darker since it was still somewhat damp. arms full of veins leading to his big hands that grope you. biceps hard at touch. he watches you like a hawk, and to this day eye contact with him makes you anxious. 

“um, i just wanted to tell you that i love you. i was expressing myself in my journal about a few things i felt like i needed to say to you.”

“mhm, go on, baby.” 

splaying your hands over your belly, your face sets into happiness. “jus’ w’na say i know this hasn’t been the easiest time for either of us, and i wanted to let you know that i put your emotions on the same level as mine. seeing me like that couldn’t have been easy. it weighs heavy on me to this day. i am happy, however, that we found two special women that have made this such a beautiful ending no matter how it started.” 

“they’re amazing women, definitely. i’m immensely grateful for them. havin’ you smile again was such a blessing,” eren takes your hand to smooth his thumb over, kissing the back of it. 

of course, you’re crying again. “i want you to know that i’ve always, always cherished this baby. i hated those thoughts that doubted me becoming a mother. it haunted me on nights i couldn’t sleep. i . . i l-love our baby, eren. i swear. i love her.” 

eren’s heart clenches as you sob, sitting closer to you so he could wrap his arm under your thighs, holding your legs to his hip and leveling his face with yours while still giving you enough space. 

“hey, hey, i know that, baby. i never doubted that. you couldn’t control what was happening to you. thoughts like that are normal. this is a big step for you, this is your first baby. everything that you’ve experienced has been normal. rose and valeria even said that those doctors were fuckin’ liars and managed what they couldn’t. it’s so much better now. you’re so much better. i know you love her, and she loves you too.” 

nodding, you squeeze your eyes tight, tears pouring down your sweet face. “thank you. i love you so much. i’ve loved every moment of our marriage. i appreciate that we’ve been there for each other for a lot of shit. you make me so happy.” 

“and it will continue to be that way. i love you so fuckin’ much, ꒰♡꒱. you make me the happiest man alive. i love our daughter, i cannot wait to see her, and hold her.”

“i know right,” you giggle softly, swiping the back of your hands under your eyes. “she’s g’na be so tiny and smell like baby lotion. i’m sticking with the speculation that she has your eyes.” 

“my eyes and your precious face,” he pinches your cheek between two knuckles. “i’ll admit i am scared of being a father. not sure how i’ll be in exact, i’ll try my hardest of course. it’s when she gets older that i worry about. but, i know i’ll be a damn good one. though, only the child can judge whether or not that’s true.” 

“i think you’ll be a great father, she’ll love you. as for when she’s older, luckily we’ll have plenty of time until that begins. i just wish our mom’s could see her,” you frown, the distant pain not so distant in meaningful moments. 

eren weakly curves up his lip, the look in his eyes mimicking yours; heartbreak. “yeah, i wish they were. good thing is she’ll have her grandfather.” 

the thought of your father makes you warm, your relationship with him so much better than it was before. even eren gets along with him. 

“he’ll drive her crazy, that’s for sure.” 

“i see it now,” eren groans. 

“also,” you start, keeping his attention. “i feel like this would be a good time to talk about how i’m never doing this shit again,” the stare on your face is dead serious, scanning his features to find anything negative. “i mean fucking never.” 

eren snorts, shaking his head as he chuckles, patting your bare thigh. “baby, i knew that. i’m genuinely okay with one child.” 

“you will get a vasectomy,” you speak sternly, squinting. 

“i heard you. i’m with whatever my wife wants.” 

beaming, you let out a thankful squeak. “yup, thank you papa. you’re so understanding, and so sexyy.” 

leaning in to kiss him, you eye the way he dangerously stares at you, licking his lips after and pulling himself back to dig his fists into the bed and spread his thighs wide, knocking his head backwards and scoffing. 

“anything else you w’na talk about?” 

it dwells on you that you haven’t had that talk in a while, mentioning it earlier to chat about it and see how you felt mentally and physically. eren surveys your mind, how quiet you get as you chew at your bottom lip and study the bumpy path of his abs, thin pubic hair leading down to the towel hiding what you really wanted to talk about if being technical. 

olive irises swirling with stormy gray dilating as they scan the silky robe draped around your naked frame. because your legs are sitting halfway up, he lowers his eyes to catch your pussy playing peek-a-boo, tightening your thighs while he clenches his. 

“what you w’na do, mama. i can see it in your face,” eren rasps, just waiting for you to say it. he’s hard as fuck right now. can’t help it. 

you look radiant, skin well moisturized, lips soft and eyes low. coils of hair flowing around the structure of your face. you smell even better, in fact, he wanted to smell you right now, every where.  

lifting himself up, he scoots closer once again, your body instinctively arching into him the moment his hands glide down the top of your thighs, mingling breaths momentarily before his mouth comes to your neck which prompts your legs to spread apart. sucking on the flesh and indenting his fingers into your plush thighs. 

“eren,” whimpering, you bring your hands to hold his face, face scrunching up with pleasure as he trails his mouth on either side of your neck, leaving tender bites and heavy licks of his tongue. 

“thought you forgot how to speak?” grunting, his mouth falls down to the valley of your breasts, untying your robe and pushing it off your shoulders. 

“mm, taste me.” 

with desperation, eren runs his tongue between your breastbone, leaving kisses here and there, drawing the side of your tits into his mouth until he reaches one of your nipples. you’re laying back into the pillows, letting him slot himself in between your legs and moaning as you tug on his hair and he guzzles your nipple into his mouth. he’s delicate at first, aware of how sensitive they were to touch.

“fuuck,” eren hisses, slamming his hand on the side of your ass, feeling himself sink into the depths of his attraction for you. how much he’s been needing to fuck you. 

twirling his tongue around your areola repeatedly, he heaves over your flesh and tweaks at them with the pads of his fingers, your whines the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. eren could hear the neediness in your voice. the churn of your expressions heated yanks at his scalp making you equally grind your hips, the material of the towel drawing precum from the head. 

he’s pulling at your chest with his lips, occasionally nipping the hard buds with teeth, and it makes you blush. what comes next is unexpected. when eren unlinks his mouth, he stares down at your chest to see that you’ve lactated, feeling his face go red at the sight and his dick jump without his control. 

“ooo, shit, baby. look,” his brows connect from the arousal he feels, cupping either of your breast and pressing them together, the dribble of white pooling down to his knuckles from them both. it’s a small droplet, but it makes him wanna suck it up so bad. 

“oh my god, no!” gasping, you go to cover them in bewilderment, only to have him stop you almost aggressively. 

“don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he clenches his jaw, stopping you from the stringent tone of his voice. 

“eren.” 

“hold still, i won’t say it again.” 

soon, his thick tongue is sticking out to do exactly what he planned, to suck you up. moaning from the intense stare he gives your chest, he’s lapping it up hungrily, like he’s been craving it. did he just discover a new kink he had? for sure. and maybe you had it too because he looked so fucking good slurping you up, applying pressure with his lips to potentially draw out more he could swallow. the warm liquid pours onto his tongue little by little.  

“ugh, fuck,” eren goes to smack the side of your tit reflexively hard, grunting. 

“a-ah, baby,” the palms of your hands shove at his shoulders and he pulls away without a fight. 

“it’s sweet,” eren smirks, showing you his tongue before licking his lips and grinning at the shock on your face. “too freaky?” 

“n-no,” you bury your face into your forearm. “i’ve just . . i dunno. i’m just sensitive.” 

“they sensitive?” he taunts, moving his face to your neck again, peppering kisses and slamming his hand on your ass again. your lower body shifts, clamping your thighs together to squeeze and relieve the throbbing. 

“yes,” you respond, reaching for his towel to pull off, making a noise as you stare at his dick standing heavy and angry. needing you in the worst way. 

“show me all the places you're sensitive.”

this is a game you loved to play, the excitement brewing in your chest. 

“right here,” you motion to your hips by dancing your fingers delicately over them, eren already guessing you were going to say that. you loved having your hips kissed and licked at, it made you so wet. 

discarding his towel and your robe off the bed, eren situated himself fully on the mattress, grabbing you by your ankles to pull you down so you're on your back, making sure your head is leveraged on the pillow. his hair covers his face when he lowers himself to your aching hips you raise up with caution, trying not to smack him in the face with your stomach. eren’s mouth starts at the area under your breast, sloppily mouthing and licking until he finds his way to your twitching hips, shuddering loudly when he goes to bite there, a guttural noise emerging from his throat before he’s using the thickness of his tongue to drag at your hips and inner thighs. 

“yess, baby. ooo, keep going, please,” your mouth falls open, vision blurring and skin prickling with heat. every touch he gives you sets you ablaze, not realizing you’ve been waiting to feel this for so long. 

eren moves his mouth to the other side of your waist to repeat his actions, rushing his tongue over the mound of your pussy before he got there. the simple crusade makes you whine, bucking your hips. his fingers part your legs further apart, almost putting you back into that happy baby position you were in earlier. he takes the pads of four fingers and rubs at your clit in the slowest motions, palm on your hot mound, sinking your teeth into your lip and drenching his fingers with your slickness. 

“i can’t, i need that pussy in my mouth,” eren’s grunting, hiking himself up so he can help you sit on your knees. 

mindlessly, you let him pick you up, gawking at him as your arms clutch around his neck while he moves some pillows around to make you comfortable, literally clinging to him like a koala. 

“stretch forward.” 

blinking within a daze, he spreads you on top of the pillows, opening your knees so you’re bent over and arching yourself downwards, stretching your arms in front of yourself, belly cushioned in. 

“fuckin’ god, baby. look at you,” his throat is burning, ready to say everything under the sun about you. 

the prettiest fucking thing to ever bless his life. your skin looked incredibly smooth, ass up in the air and belly hanging low, painted toes curling anxiously from being seen. those adorable lines etched into your skin under the curve of your ass, and your pussy, bubblegum inside, labia spread open like a butterfly's wings, opening clenching for invitation. shiny with your cum begging to be slurped up. he wanted it so bad his fingers were thrumming to grab you up. 

hugging a pillow to your face, you shut your eyes nervously, swaying your ass side to side like a cat because the silence was killing you. if he looked too long he could point out an insecurity. he had to act quick. 

“put it in your mouth, eren.” 

“i fuckin’ will,” he says with certainty, stroking his hands over the globes of your ass, cuffing his thumbs under the curve of it where it sits on your thighs to spread you open a little more, shaking your flesh and watching your entrance open wider. “fuck, so damn pretty. missed her. she need me? huh?” 

when he spanks you again, you whimper feebly, grinding yourself back into his grasp. “missed you, daddy. need you.”

he’s bringing four of his fingers to rub circles on your clit again, an audible ‘shlick shlick’ noise bouncing off the walls from your drenched pussy, eren bending his head to kiss your tailbone, leading his mouth all around you once more. bright teeth resting on your flesh until his tongue and lips follow suit, guiding his face to finally drag his tongue from your clit to your puckering, forbidden star. he never misses a spot, meant it whenever he ate you out that he ate everywhere. the saliva trickling from the toughness of his tongue on your hole which glides down to your folds. 

while switching his arm to still rub at your clit, he rushes his heavy tongue along your folds, rocking his head with your ass you move in want, fisting the sheets and dropping your mouth open. “baby . . ooh, god. daddy, want your tongue in me. pleaseplease.” 

“unh huh,” he grunts against you, spanking you hard before manuvering his tongue to sink into your pussy, wriggling it to your liking and yanking you back on his face to fuck you on it. 

“ungh, y-yess. s-show me how much you love me, daddy,” you moan weakly, voice cracking the further his tongue goes. 

“mm-hmm,” with every dip of your ass he follows by stuffing his tongue into you, rubbing his hand up and back towards your stomach until you’re creaming on his hand and in his mouth. 

going to reach behind yourself, your fingers tangle into the tresses of his hair to guide properly, throwing your ass back on his face. with every thrash of the heavy anatomy, his hand is iterating harsh hits to your skin. positioning your arms in a plank position, you dip your hips while eren grips there to help you move, a few fingers sprawled over your belly. his lips enclosed on the rest of you with every passing thrust. that familiar warmth begins to swim in your lower stomach, knowing you were going to cum. too quickly. 

“noo,” you cry out, tears brimming your eyes. “cummin’ too . . fast.” 

eren pulls his face away, sloppy kissing at your inner thighs. “s’okay, baby. cum in my mouth. i’ll get you to cum again.” 

there’s frustrated tears pouring from you, sniffling and shaking your head in denial. you felt extremely vulnerable, eren immediately tending to you by massaging your lower back and hovering his body over you. “what is it?” 

“i w’na cum with you inside me, please. i just need it that way.” 

eren understood without further explanation. frankly, he never needed you to explain yourself when it came to your pleasure. expressing it was all he wanted. you craved for that moment of connection and intimacy. it was the only way you had to have it right now. you’d edge yourself if it meant you could have that. 

“anything you want, baby,” licking his lips, he wiped his mouth with his hand before spreading it over your pussy to collect your juices and covering his dick with it. “jus’ one more thing. do it for me.” 

eren could almost hear your gulp, his thumb sinking downwards into your pussy while his fingers strum your clit, eren’s face straining from the ring of cream coating his knuckle. dips it in and out a few more times before pressing the pad of it to your anus. “it’s been a min’, so breathe.” 

sloshing the head of his dick against your folds, he pushes past that tight ring with his thumb the moment you steady your breath at the same speed he sinks his dick into you. you’re pulsating on both ends, gasping and moaning from the delicious stretch. 

“s’good, sweetheart?” eren checks in, halting his movements to wait for your say-so. 

while taking a minute, releasing a shaky breath, eren raises himself behind you in a crouching position, balancing on his feet and grabbing the headboard, balls smushed to your clit like a comforting blanket. exhaling, you answer with a soft ‘uh huh, good’ to make him feel at ease. eren’s dick twitches inside of you, halfway in but allowing you to adjust.

“fuck, ꒰♡꒱, lemme stretch you open. need you t’ take it allll in, baby,” he’s persuading you through gritted teeth, eyes scrolling white, trying to control how badly he wanted to drill into your shit right now. 

“mmgh, it’s too tight,” you whimper, toes curling. 

eren scoffs amusingly. “yeah, i feel that shit. relax yourself, baby. you’re clenching up.” 

he runs by the fact that you’re probably not fully broken down, too in your head for a reason he’s unsure about. eren is careful when he takes his hand off the headboard, bringing it to take the back of your neck into his possession. he’s maintaining his balance, lowering his gorgeous face into yours that has your cheek squished into your forearm, the other digging its fingers into the pillow under your stomach. 

“don’t feel pretty or sum, baby? is that what it is? you in your head?” eren skids his pink, plush lips over yours, kneading your neck gently and interlocking your mouth with his. 

as much as you hated to admit it, he was right. you wanna hide your face, shield it from him and not have to admit that. didn’t want him to make you say it because it felt bothersome. you never had a problem with how you looked, you admired your body shape, even adored your pregnancy belly. it was hard for yourself to grasp what was wrong. it wasn’t him, it wasn’t you, then what was it? 

“need me to make you feel pretty?” eren’s jaw tightens, gently biting at your neck to get a reaction out of you, anything to keep you from thinking. 

your cunt pulsates the instant he rushes his tongue along your neck to the back of your ear, expressions easing into elation, nibbling at your lip and swirling your eyes back as he grumbles into your skin. leisurely, he pushes in and retracts back, the french kisses allowing you to relax and take all of him to the hilt. 

one of your legs vibrates from the fullness, stifling a gasp and clasping your hand around your own throat to restrict your airways, eren laying his over yours to amplify the constraint. 

“good girl, baby. good fuckin’ girl,” his voice in your ear makes you shudder, whining into his face as he angles his hips back to slip out just a bit before plunging back inside, that ring of white coating the base of his dick. “yes, take it. . ugnh.” 

eren is careful about it, grinding his hips forward to mold the shape of his dick inside of you, making you remember, the back of your thighs clapping with his incredulously. the warmth of your pussy engulfs him, eren puffing out air strenuously, sinking his thumb further into you so he could get a good hook, sprawling his finger over your backside and yanking you back on his dick while giving you steady pounds, cunt squelching over it. 

“ooh, love it. love it, love it. fuck,” the hiccups and whines are his favorite parts when you submerge into ecstasy. wailing from every thrust he gives you, eren removing his hand to set it back where it was originally on the headboard, doing his best to keep most of his weight off you. 

“what you love, baby?” eren grits, fucking you a tad bit harder so he’s nudging on that sweet spot of yours, a high pitched squeal falling from you. 

“mmgh . . a-ah,” the rupture of your tiny voice ensues, each pound harder than the last, absorbing it all. “ . . ungh, shittt.” 

“you fuckin’ hear me, ꒰♡꒱. tell me what you love.” 

the messiness of your pussy trickles down your inner thighs, coming out like water. every wet splat! resounding the area and it drives eren nuts. you’re slippery as fuck, he’s drowning in it, and he can’t help but whimper from how good you fucking feel, unable to help himself by fucking into you harder. the squeaks and gasps come out of you more, body shaking abnormally as he digs his dick into you, making you take every filthy inch. 

“daddy youuu, fuck — it’s you. i love your dick.” 

“yeahh, it loves you too, mama,” every sound that comes from him is carnal, prolonging guttural grunts and pistoning his defined pelvis against your ass that thunders back on him. 

eren goes to rest his forehead against the headboard, sliding his hands to hold either side of your belly before he begins to drill his dick harder, balls slapping at your sticky clit. lifting your head, you lay it back on his abdomen, sloping your mouth along with his as the two of you silently listen in, unable to breathe. the derisive squelch from you glazing over his dick and messing up the sheets, some of it trickling down your stomach. 

“ . . awe, shhit . . aunh, aunh! fuck yes—m’goddd, f-fuck, eren. right there, right there!”  it comes out in the whiniest pitch he’s ever heard, surpassing a few octaves, kicking your feet and scrolling your eyes back as you slap and fist at the bedding.

“uh, uh,” his noises mimic yours, smushing his nose up against the headboard creating a pot of condensation, lips grazing it as he slows his movements, too close to cumming, grinding and spanking you.  “fuuck, she’s grippin’ me so goddamn good. g’na make me tap out already.” 

a dry heave submerses, pawing at the sheets in a haze to military crawl forward and relieve yourself for a mini break. “mmm, w’na lay down. gotta breathe.” 

eren removes every part of himself from you, your cackles like a tender hug on his heart. swatting your ass again, he bends down to give the spot he hit a kiss before lying beside you, bringing your back to his chest. 

with your thighs pressed together, eren wraps his forearm behind your neck to bring your mouth to his, the other smoothing over your overgrown belly up to your breast, molding them in his palms while passionately gliding his tongue over yours in a nasty kiss. 

both of your eyes were closed, eren’s dick sitting on your back, the fixation he has with touching you only makes you absurdly wetter. 

“put it back in,” you mumble against his lips, shifting your ass back, eren’s eyes low and locked on to you as he guides his dick down to your opening and slides back in with little to no hassle. 

“i love you,” eren says softly, kissing behind your ear and on your collarbone, cupping your left tit to suck back into his mouth. 

you cry, again. it seems to be never ending the amount of emotions you felt in this moment. “i love you.” 

hooking his forearm under your neck, eren’s ample hand spreads your ass cheek apart as he thrusts harder. his grunts by your ear, even an occasional nibble, the compression of your thighs together as you arch your back all feels too good, enough to make you cum actually. in fear, you whine his name, eren trying his hardest to keep his focus, also close to his climax. 

“i feel it, ‘ren. cum with me, cum in me please. i want it so bad. i need it.” 

eren moans, whistling as he blew out air, laying you flat on your back so he could lift your left leg up to your chest, locking his forearm under the bend of it while removing the arm he had underneath your neck to hook under your belly, fingers touching the thigh he held up and beating his dick rougher into you. your head falls back, watching him as he watches you, tossing his head back and giving you all of him. 

“f-fuck, baby. cum on it right now, please. be a good girl. know you got it,” his voice is shattering, balls thwacking on your clit, the head of his dick squishing deep on that spot that makes you gush out and coat his dick in your juices from every stroke. 

“cu—mmin’, oooh, fuck yes. eren!” 

sobs break out in waves, adoring the feeling of his cum streaking your inner walls as you cum as one. it’s emotional for you, crying in his face as he kisses you and swallows all the air from you. thanking him in whispers while eren rubs all over your body, unable to break apart from you. clutching your neck and deepening the kiss, his waist jumping as he gasps and shares this moment with you. 

a week later you find yourself going into labor. 

the entire process was unhurried, and extremely beautiful. eren held you the entire time, letting you dig your fingers into his arms and connecting your forehead with his, breathing you through it as rose rubbed your back. squatting into him comfortably as the warm water your body was submerged into along with the smell of herbs sprinkled around the floor and vanilla candles alleviated you. six contractions within an hour was how it started, your water breaking the moment you went to start your morning shower and yelling eren’s name in fright, staring at the water pooling around your feet. 

he never moved so fast in his life. lifting you up and bringing you downstairs where he sat you on the couch with a towel and instructed you to breathe as he dialed the doula and midwife. they rushed here within fifteen minutes, and in that process eren blew up the birthing tub and filled it up so he could get you in as soon as possible. remembering to remind you to melt into the contractions instead of tensing since it’ll make them worse. 

you told him you wanted to give birth while listening to destiny’s child, playing it on vinyl and humming along to the music currently. cater 2 u being your mental anthem. the room is dark, only candles lighting the area. eren makes sure to talk you through it, always good for that, ironically. speaking affirmations and praising you, until finally, your precious baby girl is born. with trembles and cries, rose and valeria gasp in excitement as your baby erupted in croaks and shrill cries, tears streaming down eren’s face as they place the baby on your chest so she could instantly hear your heartbeat. 

weighing at six pounds and four ounces, she’s the perfect, tiny baby. caressing her fragile body as you weep and lay your cheek atop her head. eren’s sitting back on his feet, stun overcoming him as he sees the small human, coming to realize that the two of you could create such a magnificent thing. rose makes sure to give him some water, his eyes unable to leave the two of you. making eye contact, you gawk in astonishment, holding her  miniature wrist between two of your fingers and waving at him. 

“that’s daddy, he’s speechless right now. i promise he’s cool, and funny. you’re g’na have lots of laughs,” you speak softly, smiling wide. 

he loves you, endlessly. 

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[martiniluvr]

18+ minors dni

1,000 follower celebration!! I love u all wow. thank you for all your support, truly. be warned, this is long. enjoy 💫

warnings: nsfw alphabet for dick grayson and jason todd, so there’s a variety of things under the cut. please proceed with caution 🩷

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

A | Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

jason is very different after sex. it’s a major act of trust for him, so when it’s done, all he really wants is to be close to you. in other words: he’s a big cuddler. he’ll mumble some things into your skin as you run your fingers through his hair, and after, you usually end up ordering enough food to feed a small family, because that man can eat.

dick is a loverboy at heart. once the dust has settled and you’re both down from your highs, he’s doting on you—bringing you water, a snack, cleaning you up with a damp cloth—with doe eyes and a big old grin. always invites you to have a shower with him afterwards, and you always say yes, because his shoulder rubs are divine.

B | Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

unsurprisingly, jason has some…issues with his body from all the shit it’s been through. that being said, I think he intentionally trains his back and shoulders the most. it’s what makes him look as huge as he does. as for his favourite thing about you, jason todd is an ass man, argue with the wall. he likes something he can grab. hard.

dick grayson knows his ass is fat. he’s not shy about it. but his favourite body part is actually his arms, and how muscular they’ve become over the years. as for you, he loves your hips. they trigger something primal in him; the second you put on a fitted dress, he’s thinking about giving you his children.

C | Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

jason gets nasty. he’ll cum anywhere on your body just for the obscene sight, but he especially loves to cum in your mouth when he’s feeling that extra bit dominant. he doesn’t care if you spit or swallow, it turns him on either way—but, god, he’s proud when you open your mouth to show him it’s all gone.

let’s cut to the chase. dick wants to cum inside you over and over again. he hardly even contemplates doing it anywhere else; that man wants to fill you up and watch you drip. maybe it’s his out-of-control breeding kink, maybe it’s how intimate it feels—whatever the case may be, rest assured dick grayson loves a creampie.

D | Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

voyeurism. jason likes to watch. it happened accidentally once when he walked in on you practicing some self-care, and he’s thought about it ever since. he enjoys the performance aspect of it; it’s a power play, watching you get yourself off, knowing he’s right there but refusing to help you.

this ties in with Q, but dick borders on exhibitionism sometimes. fucking you in his car, in the bathroom at a charity event, or in a changing room—anywhere you might get caught, really—god, it gets him going. it’s the daredevil in him, constantly yearning to test the limits of what he can do.

E | Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I think jason had very limited to no experience before his death, and most of what knows today he learned by being with you. ever the fast learner, though, he sure as shit knows what he’s doing now. I think he’s very in-tune with your body and his needs, and it shows in the way he fucks you.

we have to face facts here. dick definitely got around before committing to a serious relationship. despite that, I think he knows what he’s doing thanks to his impeccable observational skills; sometimes you think he knows your body better than you do (but don’t tell him that; it goes straight to his head).

F | Favorite position (this goes without saying)

jason is a sucker for good old-fashioned doggy style, of course, but fuck, does he adore the prone bone position. trapping you under his body, hitting you deep with each thrust, and he gets to watch your ass jiggle at every movement? it borders on religious ecstasy for him.

dick goes feral—feral—for the mating press position. it’s erotic, carnal, and raw, and that’s exactly what he wants when he’s fucking you. he’s also partial to cowgirl, especially when he can tell you want to take control. the view it offers him is enough to have him whining underneath you for more.

G | Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

jason is more on the serious side; sex with him, intense as it may be, is still a big act of vulnerability on his part, so he doesn’t treat it lightly. he will, however, crack a warm smile on those occasions when you make love in the small hours of the morning, when he thinks you can’t see his face clearly.

dick is a tease, and sex with him is fun. he likes to flirt with you while he bends you into compromising positions, and he gets very cocky when you cum. he can’t help but make little quips after the fact, either; “something wrong with your leg, baby?” as your limbs twitch and tremble from your orgasm. jerk.

H | Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

in keeping with his rugged exterior, jason is only doing what he needs to in order to keep things manageable and convenient. he is not dedicating hours to manscaping. much to your elation, that means he keeps his happy trail intact.

dick is a little more meticulous in his grooming, being the “pretty boy” that he is. he prefers keeping himself neatly trimmed, partly to ensure more comfort in his nightwing suit—he’s learned the hard way that the pornstar look is a one-way ticket to chafing when you’re jumping off of buildings.

I | Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

jason really restrains himself from being outwardly intimate. he finds it hard to be that vulnerable, and while he loves the passion between you when you fuck, he’s only really able to tap into the romantic aspect if he’s wholly at ease. that’s not to say it never happens! it definitely does, just give him time.

he may be cocky and unserious when he’s fucking you, but sex with dick is always very openly intimate. he sees the beauty and romance in what you do together, and it’s truly special to him that he gets to witness you like this. sex is absolutely one of the ways he expresses his love and admiration for you.

J | Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

jason only really masturbates when he’s away from you on a mission, and needs to take the edge off. it’s less interesting without you, so he wants it done quick. he imagines you touching yourself as he does it—legs wide and eyes hazy—and that gets him to his peak extremely efficiently.

dick likes to edge himself. I said what I said. he’s thinking about how he’d much rather save his load for your pretty cunt, so he’s bucking his hips and screwing his eyes shut as he forces himself to stop right before his climax, reminding himself how good it’ll feel when he gets to fill you up.

K | Kink (one or more of their kinks)

overstimulation is jason’s go-to; he gets off on dragging orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re hardly able to speak. he also loves forced eye contact, especially when you can barely keep your eyes open. oh, and he has a massive size kink. when you’re as huge as he is, everyone is small by comparison, and he likes how big you make him feel.

say it with me. dick grayson has a breeding kink. the visual aspect of cumming inside you is enough to drive him crazy, but the thought of getting you pregnant…now that makes him rabid. face-sitting is another big one; any variation of pussy-eating drives him wild, but having you sit on his face is his favourite way to do it.

L | Location (favorite places to do the do)

if you’re at home, anywhere is fair game to jason. he’s fucking you in the kitchen, in the bedroom, on the sofa, against the wall, in the office—anywhere. outside of home, he’s more restrictive, but he has thought about fucking you in the batmobile on the many occasions he’s stolen it.

the bedroom is definitely dick’s favourite place to fuck you; aside from making things feel more romantic, he wants you to be comfortable as he’s bending you into crazy positions. he also loves a shower quickie and car sex, impractical though they may be. don’t worry, he’s an acrobat. it’ll work.

M | Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

is it crazy to say that jason gets turned on when you argue? because he does. a moderate disagreement where you’re getting huffy with him is a surefire way to get bent over the sofa. oh, and if he feels even a little jealousy creeping over him, you’re in for a ride. also, if you nestle into him during the night, you’ll be contending with his hard cock pressed against your lower back until one of you caves.

dick is whipped. whatever you’re doing can get him going. cooking, reading, wearing his clothes—he loves everything you do. but, he’s particularly turned on whenever you dress up for a special occasion. it can be a little inconvenient when you’re running late for an event and he’s groping you over your gown in the limo, but how can you refuse those blue eyes?

N | No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

jason would be very resistant to anything that puts him in a submissive role (this goes for ak!jason too). this includes both sex acts and the use of props/toys that take control away from him; he’s just not into it. he’d also refuse any kind of roleplay, saying it’s unnecessary. he’s a pragmatic guy.

I think dick would really dislike the idea of hurting you. he’s not opposed to spanking, and he’ll even engage in some light breath play (ahem, headlock, anyone?), but he would never take it any further than that. if he bruised you through anything other than hickies, he’d be sick with guilt.

O | Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

it should come as no surprise that jason loves receiving head. there are few sights as enticing as watching you take his cock in your mouth while he instructs you to keep your eyes on him. he’s also very skilled in returning the favour, and his preference is eating you from the back so he can see your pretty ass move each time you squirm.

you know my stance on this. dick is a munch. he’s eating pussy like it’s his last meal before the end of the world, and he’s doing it for him. needless to say, he’s fucking good at it. receiving head is quite literally the last thing on his mind. that being said, when he does remember to let you reciprocate, all he can think about is how pretty you look while doing it.

P | Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

jason can get pretty rough, and he likes to fuck you hard, but he knows how much you can take. sex for him is partially an emotional release. but, he’s good at alternating between destroying you one day and being gentle the next; despite his tough facade, jay enjoys soft, passionate sex as much—if not more—than you do.

dick is kind of a hedonist; once he starts feeling pleasure, he doesn’t want it to end—especially when you start feeling it too. he’s happy to give you fast and rough if it’s what you want, but his preference is sloppy, erotic fucking. the messier you get, the better. although, if he’s got you in a mating press, the roughness seeps back in quickly.

Q | Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

while he’ll never say no to a quickie, jason prefers to take his time with you. once he starts, he finds it hard to stop, and he loves to see how much you can take from him before you’re spent. quickies are sporadic with him; he prefers to enjoy your body at his pace.

if he gets the chance to fuck you—hell, even just tease you—dick is going to take it. he loves the thrill and the sense of urgency that comes with quickies. whether it’s a hookup in his car or an impromptu blowjob when he’s supposed to be on patrol, his eyes are lighting up like it’s christmas.

R | Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

jason is not a risk-taker. he needs time to warm to any kind of experimentation, but he’s more likely to try things on you than on himself, like using light restraints on you or dabbling in sensory play. as long as he feels he has some control.

dick is a different story. he’s willing to try most things at least once, and he’s able to laugh it off if something goes south. he’s not opposed to switching (ha) things up and giving you the lead, either; he likes a woman in charge.

S | Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

maybe it’s his extensive training, maybe it’s just who he is; whatever the case may be, jason can go for a long time. but, it’s usually just one round that he draws out so he can really work you to your limit.

dick can handle multiple rounds if you give him time. his recovery consists of burying his face between your legs until he’s ready to go again, which doesn’t take very long once you start convulsing against his tongue.

T | Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

jason wouldn’t even think to use sex toys unless you brought it up, but he’d be open to using them on you if you asked. he’s quick to see the potential in your little pink vibrator when he holds it against your clit while he fucks you, noticing how much easier it is to overstimulate you this way.

ever the experimentalist, dick isn’t opposed to trying out toys in the bedroom. in fact, he’s the one who would show up with fuzzy blue handcuffs (“I got them in my colour!”) to restrain your hands behind your back, so he can devour your cunt without interference from you.

U | Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’d like to tease you more, but jason doesn’t really have the restraint for it. as soon as you’re splayed out in front of him, he wants to take you. when he does tease, though, he likes to touch you everywhere but where you need him most, until you’re begging for him to make you feel good. then, he likes to make you regret it—over and over again.

dick is the world’s biggest tease, and you can look that up. he’s got you grinding on his lap, making out with you until you’re panting, only to say he needs to do some work as he stands up with a smirk. and when he finally gets you naked, he makes you tell him what you need while his fingers hover over your aching pussy, never reaching you.

V | Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

jason isn’t very loud at all, but the sounds he does make range from grunts and groans to the occasional low moan if you tug at the hair on the nape of his neck. he’s a big dirty talker, and he likes to get up in your ear to do it, so he knows you’re listening. he notices the way you shiver at his gravelly voice, and it drives him crazy.

dick is far less concerned about being quiet. he’s moaning, swearing, telling you how pretty you are, even occasionally whining, and he’s not worried about what your neighbours think—in fact, he’s making sure you’re just as vocal as he is, insisting you tell him how you feel. he’s also expressive when he cums, especially when he does it inside you.

W | Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I know this is controversial, but jason would never agree to a threesome. this man is possessive. the mere thought of seeing someone else touch you in front of him is enough to make him see red, so no—he’d end up committing murder (not that it’s a far leap for him on a good day).

dick has a thing for watching you work out, especially when you’re doing yoga in the living room in those skin-tight pants. watching the way your limbs elongate and contract as you bend and stretch does things to him, but he never interrupts; the images stay in his mind for those long missions.

X | X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

jason is a behemoth of a man all over. and I do mean all over. he’s packing. an easy 8 inches (slightly more), thick, with a slight upwards curve and a prominent vein from the base to the tip—which is a mauvy pink, by the way. you’re still shocked you’re able to take him, and he was too the first time.

‘prettiest man alive also has a pretty cock’ would be dick’s headline. just over 6 inches, with enough girth to make you feel full, and a rosy pink tip that matches his lips…you could honestly just stare at it if he’d let you (and he probably would). he fits you like a glove every single time.

Y | Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

jason’s sex drive is pretty consistent; it’s always simmering a little ways below the surface. he’s able to compartmentalise it when he has to, but sex doubles as a form of stress-relief for him, so it happens…often.

dick has an incredibly high sex drive. like jason, he can reel it in when needed, but if it were up to him, you’d fuck every single day, twice even. I also truly believe that he’s regularly plagued by morning wood.

Z | Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he’s going to make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of, but the truth is jason could probably pass out in your arms about 10 minutes after you’re done. take it as a sign of how safe he feels with you as he’s snoring softly into your neck.

he’s definitely tired after sex, but dick is waiting until he notices you dozing off before he closes his eyes. once he’s out, though, good luck waking him up again without an air horn. he’s going to need his full eight hours to recharge.

[icanseethefuture333]

How to gain followers as an influencer according to your Midheaven

Aries MC:

These influencers are blunt and say whatever that comes to mind. They have a confident aura to themselves and a lot of people gravitate towards them because of how infectious their personality is. Aries MC as influencers are competitive, bold, and outgoing. They also can have a cute and bubbly nature due to Aries being the youngest of the zodiac signs. In order to gain followers or success an influencer - speak your mind. Post pictures of yourself in the gym, dancing, or playing sports, Aries are known for their athleticism and people admire the amount of energy they possess. Aries MC do best in their career as an influencer when they are energetic and thriving in life. Their following might go down if they talk about losing or show a significant change of attitude in their content such as accepting defeat. Fans can emphasize with them if they open up about trauma and abuse.

Loren Gray’s most viral video is when she transitioned from blonde to brown hair. Making bold choices such as a change in hair color, makeup, or fashion style will attract more attention.

(Ex: Tana Mongeau, Loren Gray, Lisa)

Taurus MC:

The misconception of Taurus MCs is that they are always perceived as classy or being “refined” in their aesthetic. When the most famous Taurus MCs influencers are the exact opposite. They have this “untouchable” essence to them (“Yo voy voy voy”). Like those cool girls you pass by in the mall and never see again. They live a life of fun and luxury, their stories you always want to tune in because they’re always doing something interesting. Taurus MCs need to give little by little, share your interests while also keep an air of mystery to yourself. They are the life of the party and you can often see them enjoying good food, alcohol, and/or on vacation. Taurus MCs can pull off slick buns, gold hoops, glossy lips, and tight clothing like no other as well. Unless they are showing off their riches and bragging, people will get bored of them. They don’t want someone they can relate to, so these people often get put on a pedestal or people look up to them for motivation. Most likely to be the ones on somebody's vision board. People are turned off when they display arrogance and envy out of insecurity.

Alex Consani’s most viral video of her is at a fancy restaurant singing “Lifestyle” by Young Thug.

(Ex: Alex Consani, Alexa Demie, Selena Gomez)

Gemini MC:

These girlies are some chatterboxes. They are similar to Aries MCs in a way when it comes to saying whatever they want but what they say often… doesn’t make sense but also totally makes sense, yk? The girls that get it, get it, and the girls that don’t, don’t! Queens/kings of musically fr. Gemini MCs are good at being animated and cunning when creating content. They act really ditsy and lost but they are secretly very intelligent. To gain followers, just be WEIRD, but not weird as in it being forced to be unique and different. I mean weird as just being yourself - unfiltered. Imagine yourself at 10 years old and how annoying but funny they were then letting it out as an adult now that you have control of your life. Give your inner child that space to be creative and humorous without overthinking.

Trisha Paytas being a Gemini MC in her most viral videos. That is all.

(Ex: Trisha Paytas, Liza Koshy, Bella Hadid)

Cancer MC:

Ahh Cancer MCs, they just give mother, ykwim? Something about them is just so feminine and nurturing. If they are young in age, people are drawn to their girl/boy next door vibes. They often fit the beauty standard and are praised for their youthful features. They are way over romanticized sometimes and people have an unhealthy obsession with them. People often see Cancer MCs as overrated but honestly who cares? You are capable of gaining followers by making content with family members, at home, or honestly doing the bare minimum (this placement doesn’t require much effort).

Ari Fletcher is famous for being the girlfriend of rapper G Herbo and mother of their son, Yosohn, she often posts videos of her and their son together.

(Ex: Charli D’amelio, Ari Fletcher, Zoë Kravitz)

Leo MC:

Divaaaas. Leo MCs just give celebrity through and through. They are probably some of the youngest influencers out there. These are the people who were in their bathroom making YouTube videos at 11 and getting over millions of views just for talking about their day at school. They could talk a lot of shit and people would just tune in for the gossip. They are hilarious and entertaining to watch. Always hated but could never be imitated. They are just that it girl/boy. Leo MCs gain attention for their voluminous hair, balanced features, and radiant style. The more they shine, the better. These people gain followers when they look the most glamorous and behave unapologetically themselves. Fun to hear them talk while drunk too. Might have to make a few apologies throughout their career but their fans are loyal and would never turn their back on them lol. “They could never make me hate you ahhh😝”. Leo MCs live by the saying “only god could cancel me”, the feline that got 9 lives. Haters would even miss them if they died.

Bretman Rock’s viral contour video that’s … dare I say chaotic.

(Ex: Justine Skye, Bretman Rock, Doja Cat)

Virgo MC:

True natural beauty. These people probably started the “clean girl” trend, they are so effortlessly perfect at everything they do. Top student of their class, successful in their career, etc. You name it. Virgo MCs are admired for their good reputation and clean image (or in another case, when their reputation goes to shit, they can salvage it by being clever and profiting it off themselves. Kim Kardashian became famous for being in a sex tape and ever since then she’s been one of the biggest influencers in the entertainment industry). They gain followers for posting content of their everyday routine, cleaning habits, and comfortable but stylish wardrobe. These people lose attention when they are looking messy and dirty. Sometimes engaging in reckless behavior and not always being the “perfect” girl people perceive them as can gain attention - good or bad. These people may have a harder time keeping up with the standards people enforce onto them and often face criticism more than others which could impact their mental as well as physical health.

(Ex: Yara Shahidi, Hailey Baldwin Bieber, Maya Jama)

Libra MC:

The ultimate beauty gurus omg! These are the best people to receive beauty tips from. Unfortunately, people could never look as pretty as them but they could at least learn tips that would help them enhance their appearance with makeup, skincare, etc. Libra MCs are the embodiment of beauty and style, they make the perfect influencers and a lot of them are very popular on social media. They know how to balance humor while being serious when giving advice, giving off big sister/brother vibes. The beauty standards they present could be unattainable, so they could receive both love and hate from others because they are not able to replicate them. These influencers are the type to set trends such as “#wonyoungism” and what not. Wearing pink, using your artistic skills, and being an advocate for a cause you care about could attract more followers.

Jenna Marbles most famous video is ironically about “how to trick people into thinking you’re good looking”.

(Ex: Jenna Marbles, Kylie Jenner, Michelle Phan)

Scorpio MC:

Sexy spooky gals. Scorpio MCs possess a beauty that is haunting to the mind, they are the bad girls/boys. They are daring by nature and their quirky personalities contrast with their sensual appearance. These placements could be former porn stars or be very popular on onlyfans (*cough cough* Mia Khalifa). They are often involved in scandals, dating rumors, and people view them as dramatic. Indulge in people’s fantasies and feed into others illusions. Emphasize your eyes by doing a smoker eyeliner look, contour your cheeks, and wearing a nude lip is a signature look for the Scorpio MCs. Wearing leather, revealing, or stripper type clothing and having tattoos is part of their grand appeal as well. Entertain your fans by engaging in harmless flirting and venting about your emotions.

Quenlin has been gaining popularity recently for being involved in a dating rumor that her, Billie Ellish, and Odessa are in a throuple after making a video together.

(Ex: Emma Chamberlain, Quenlin Blackwell, India Love)

Sagittarius MC:

The one everyone wishes to find. These people become the most searched in a matter of seconds. Everyone wants to know who they are, what’s their name, and where are they from. Sagittarius MCs could be praised for their “exotic” look or extravagant style. Wear clothing and jewelry from foreign countries, these people have to give off the vibe they just came back from vacation. They are often seen sporting tans and look good in “airport fashion". To gain followers, post content of videos of yourself talking in the car, traveling, going to the airport, being on vacation, driving to your favorite places, and/or speaking in foreign languages. Sagittarius MCs become famous “unintentionally” and they experience a lot of luck and success within their career. Being too stagnant could harm their success.

Cindy Kimberly went viral after Justin Bieber posted her on his instagram asking people who she was.

(Ex: Cindy Kimberly, Khloe Kardashian, Jenna Ortega)

Capricorn MC:

These mfers are always mewing. Patrick Bateman core. These are the business moguls, supermodels, and professional gamers. They are competitive and efficient when it comes to their work. They look great in black and have noticeable tattoos. Similar to Scorpio MCs with having a baddie image but instead of being just “bad”, they give off mafia vibes. The sexy super villain that’s hard to resist and secretly rooting for. People want to know how much money they make and what they did to achieve being rich (“sprinkle sprinkle”). Capricorn MCs are appreciated for their dedication and hard work. People admire them most when they talk about their struggles and how they overcame obstacles to become successful. Although, if they are someone who benefits from nepotism, people could really despise them. Be the unbothered queen/king you’re meant to be and invest in yourself, remember your time and energy is valuable.

Rihanna’s most viral video is of her saying “she could beat me but she could not beat my outfit” during a speech.

(Ex: Vinnie Hacker, Rihanna, Kendall Jenner)

Aquarius MC:

The definition of social media stars. These are the innovators and trend starters. They are the reason influencers are so big now on the internet. Aquarius MCs gain popularity for their unique perspective and usage of technology (cameras, editing content, etc). They could post about tech, talking about interests from their fandom, doing Q&As, and having a close relationship with their fans. People admire how friendly and down to earth they are. Aquarius MCs lose followers when they are cold and distant. These people could wear just about anything but look best in a hoodie, sunglasses, and jeans. They are oh so casual chic.

Madison Beer went viral in her cover of Etta James when she was only 13, she showed gratitude to her fans in the comment section and was praised by Justin Bieber as well.

(Ex: Madison Beer, Jackie Aina, Dixie D’amelio)

Pisces MC:

These people just spawned into existence. They are otherworldly in terms of appearance. Pisces MCs are quite strange when it comes to how they express themselves and people who are often misunderstood find comfort in these public figures. As influencers, their style has spiritual or mystical elements. They look like a fantasy character come to life and their makeup style can be quite bizarre. These people lose followers when they try to fit in and dim their light. They make a positive impact on others when they talk about acceptance and self love. Pisces MCs’ sexuality could be a hot topic as well and they might be very progressive with their views. These people could be psychic and are very intuitive in terms of the future.

Julia Fox’s most popular video is about how her son was born the same day her best friend who died (she also talked about how she came to her in a dream to tell her she was having a boy!)

(Ex: Julia Fox, Addison Rae, James Charles)

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕭REAKING HEARTS ᝰ! S.L.

˚⟡˖ ࣪౨ৎ summary: girlfriend material sophia strikes again, and this time round, she has no intention of keeping how much she cares about you a secret. best be known you don't mess with sophia laforteza when it came to you... she'll be breaking a lot more than hearts thats for sure

disclaimers: obvious!sophia, mostly fluff, protective!sophia, younger member!reader, everybody simping for ya’ll

prev, next (so many of yall are threatening to kill my family if i don’t do more sophia content so here she is 🫶)

Y/N AND SOPHIA PROVING L/NFIZ DEFINITELY DOES (NOT) EXIST PART. 2

17.2k likes | 330k views | 18th Dec, 24

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ WEVERSE LIVE ] join a y/nfiz hangout <3 You and Sophia started a live while waiting for the girls to come home from a schedule

You sat beside the Filipina leader, your collared shirt unbuttoned and creased, your hair a slight mess and your day-old make up still on your face. The fans loved the domestic look you always seemed to serve when you were at home, and it was safe to say they noticed Sophia was too.

Whilst she ranted on about some silly story you had already heard her tell a million times, you checked yourself out in the camera, the crease in your white shirt collar gave you an itch you desperately needed scratched.

Your hands came up to pop open the collar to your shirt more, revealing your bare chest down the low V cut of the button-up. The fans had begun tuning Sophia’s story out too, because gradually, the chat flooded with comments on your peculiar choice in styling, which caught the attention of the rambling woman. She glanced between you and the comments on the screen, her hand instinctively shooting up to grab your shirt.

user01 raw. next question.

user02 Omg she’s actually tryna kill us w the fit

user03 don’t be shy pop it open a little more ^^

user04 y/n baby save it for the bedroom

“Yo, watch it,” Sophia warned, adjusting your collar so you would be covered up to the base of your neck.

Your hands grab hers gently as you chuckled at the tense expression on her face. “Fia, calm down, I’m like twenty-one, I can wear an open-collared shirt if I want to.” You nodded towards the thirsty comments, smirking. “Besides, it sounds more like the fans want me to.”

Sophia grimaced, her face twisting into something negative before adjusting her sitting position so she was in front of you. She was in an oversized hoodie, so it shielded your body from the camera perfectly.

“Absolutely not if I have something to say about it,” she shook her head, moving her body so she would be shielding you away from the camera. “What’re you all looking at, hm?”

user05 dang baby ain’t nobody tryna snatch her😭

user06 It’s okay cuz if y/n was mine I would gatekeep too

user07 ntm on my girl sophia yall know damn well you’d do the same thing if y/n was your girlfriend

user08 SOPHIA SHARING IS CARING

You sighed, lips quirked at the older woman’s antics. “Can I talk to my people, Laforteza? Or are you gonna hold my shirt like this for the rest of the live?”

“Are you gonna button this all the way up?”

Your eyes widened, “All the way up? What am I, somebody’s Christian mom? Absolutely not!”

“Then yes, the rest of the live.”

user09 sophia confirmed brat tamer

user10 This is too much for my brain man

user11 Idk what’s crazier y/n’s fit or Sophia going all overprotective girlfriend

Eventually, Sophia would shed the hoodie she was wearing and drape it over you, despite your apparent protesting. The friends made note of the way she still seemed adamant on keeping you in the background as your hands peeked through the long sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt.

[ are they looking for a third to their marriage? ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* KATSEYE MANA Dance Practice; Sophia’s behind the scenes interview

All the members were asked to send you a message. You were out sick and couldn’t make it the day they filmed the dance practice (you did eat so hard at MAMA don’t worry), and as the girls were asked about their feelings, their experiences working towards an award show like MAMA and what they took from this opportunity. Sophia, as the leader, her interview was put last, and she got asked the most hard-hitting questions.

She knew you were getting some backlash from being sick that PR day, it made things much more exaggerated, as if you weren’t present for a lot of things.

[ y/n defender till i die. if i see one comment calling her lazy or untalented, i WILL be reporting you ]

The question: “How have you managed to keep yourself motivated and help support the girls through this journey towards achieving such a milestone?” Immediately, Sophia being Sophia begun ranting on about how every member did their jobs amazingly, how she could not be prouder, how she could not imagine herself fulfilling her dream with such a beautiful group of passionate artists. She then spun her rant away from Manon being a pillar behind the scenes to you, whom your manager had asked her to give a message to.

“It’s actually been really disheartening,” she sighed, her wide smile faltering just the slightest. It was obvious, the way you could see genuine emotion seep through the cracks of her pr training. “y/n’s been sick for about a week, she can barely get out of bed and she just—She’s been working especially hard for this, because this has always been a dream of hers. Most days, we have one of our phones on facetime with her at home. You can actually see her following along next to her bed, and she gets teased so hard for it.”

[ my poor baby, i’m glad she put health first ]

Sophia chuckled softly, “That girl—that girl is so stubborn. I’ve told her so many times to just stay in bed and get better soon so she can actually practice with us here, but I never win that argument.” The camera angle switches to a closer look at Sophia’s expression. Her eyes pan from her hands back up to main camera off screen, glossy and brushed with a tinge of melancholy. “It breaks my heart to see her cry. She loves doing what we do, and not being able to do it makes her feel like she’s disappointing everybody. And the girls do a really good job of making sure those thoughts eventually leave, but she’s just so hard on herself. That is… definitely part of what makes her such an amazing performer, but it’s also what we, as a group, as a family—as Katseye, stand for.”

She pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. The words, “The members messages to their missing friend:” appear.

“y/n, if you’re watching at home, I love you. The dance room’s not the same without you here, we all miss you, and we really cannot hope any harder for you to feel better soon.” She blew the camera a kiss, “I’ll see you at home. Love you.”

[ she said i love you twice… SHE SAID IT TWICE ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Katseye Christmas Video; a segment of the video had the members paired off and decorating their ugly sweaters, naturally, to atone to popular demand, you and Sophia were coupled up

“Yours is not looking good right now,” you teased, snorting at the third glop of hot glue yanking the little fibres off the sweater. You, yourself, didn’t have the most impressive artistic ability, but you enjoyed watching the older pout and grow fussy whenever you would make a comment about her struggling to bring her vision to life. “What is that supposed to be, Rudolph’s distant cousin Rude elf?”

Sophia rolled her eyes, letting out a whiney grumble. “It’s not even that bad, it has a good personality. Stop judging it!”

[ y/nfiz fans getting fed everyone say THANK YOU HYBE ]

You rummaged through the box of decorations you were provided, feeling your attention momentarily divert from the heat exhuming from the show lights. You pulled out a couple streamers, Christmas balls before you found a particular piece of decor that caught your eye.

Apart from the sweaters, you had to make a hat, and you knew everybody was in competition for the most ridiculous design. Inspiration struck, and you had the best idea.

When the sweaters were done, you slipped it on. Yours was a pastel shade of red, with the words “Wish list: Eyekons” spelt out with stickers. You looped the streams along the sleeves, taking the balls all over the sweater. As you stood in front of the slow-mo camera for your glam shot, you could see Sophia smiling at you in your peripheral. You smiled into the camera, blowing them a kiss with a cheeky wink.

[ she’s so fine i need her i need her i need- *gunshots* ]

Back at your table, you added the last touch of glitter before fully giving the camera another close look at your creation. You turned to the Filipina, who adjusted her on.

“Wait, Fia, you gotta look at this.”

She glanced at the camera, a nervous grimace sprawled across her face as you bent behind the table to pick up your hat. “You and creative genius do not mix, like I have a seriously bad feeling about this—!”

You set the hat on your head, a fedora you wrapped in Justin Bieber Christmas wrapping paper. Around the base tied a long rope of frills, strung at the very front a tiny, dangling piece of mistletoe flailing just inches away from your eyes. You beamed, proud of the hat. You eyed the cameras, before puckering your lips in an exaggerated manner. Your hands clasped together, eyes closed. “I’m waiting.”

[ #thisisthemostiveeverrelatedtoanidol ]

Sophia slapped a hand over her forehead, scoffing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, there’s no way you did that.”

“You gotta respect the tradition, Laforteza, come on!” you ushered, leaning in closer as you pouted. “I want my kiss.”

[ sophia’s stronger than me i would’ve folded right there ]

Sophia eyed something off camera, getting a sleek look of approval from your manager.

“Fine, come here.” She sighed, an amused smile on her lips. She cradled your face carefully, tilting her own head before pressing a gentle kiss onto your cheek. When she pulled back, the camera zoomed in on the lipstick stain nearly touching the corner of your mouth. “Merry Christmas, l/n.”

You shot the camera the widest smile, “I must’ve been a good girl this year, cuz my Christmas wish just came true.”

[ no cuz the editors knew what they were doing keeping this bit in for the starving y/nfiz truthers ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ KATSEYE VLOG ] Here are four separate occasions from the same video where Sophia just can’t keep her hands off you

Clip one: You stood up from your seat, second from the left and right in between Sophia and Daniela. You threw pumpkin guts at Lara, who wouldn’t stop making fun of the way you couldn’t balance on your heels earlier when you were filming winx club tiktok’s. Sophia’s hand cupped the back of your skirt, her own pumpkin long forgotten. She pressed the piece of clothing against your thighs, making sure you wouldn’t flash the entire world as you focused on dousing the Indian singer in your pumpkin’s insides.

Clip two: As the six of you waited for Megan to finish up in hair and makeup, Sophia’s arm wrapped around your neck. You, Yoonchae and Manon were deep in conversation about the last time the group was altogether for a schedule, with Sophia mindlessly watching you talk. Fans pointed out her apparent gaze switching back and forth from your eyes to your lips, a small smile perched on her own lips as she watched you joke around with your bandmates.

Clip three: The two of you were pulled aside, tasked to organize the girls into groups to set up a quick little jumpscare for Megan as a surprise to celebrate her official return to Katseye activities since her back injury. Though the video showed a wide are of the studio where you two stood, Sophia seemed adamant on staying just inches away from you, her attention solely fixed on the way your eyebrows furrowed at the ipad they had handed you. Fans noted this as one of the more subtle but iconic l/nfiz moments.

Clip four: As Daniela thanked the fans for tuning in to watch the special Halloween edition of Katseye vlogs, Sophia could be seen grabbing at your hip. Given, her other arm was around Yoonchae, but her hand merely dangled off her shoulder, unlike the sure grip you could see she had on your waist.

[ let’s play fanservice or just gay for the 193837th time ]

*Loud technical difficulty transiition* [ WEVERSE LIVE ] Manon and Daniela being big mouths ;)

“I’m pregnant with talent… I’m pregnant with star quality,” Manon announced confidently, earning a judgemental look from her roommate beside her.

“That’s one way to put it, that’s for sure.” Daniela mocked.

“Where are the others—Okay, hold up, I got this. Let me cook!” Manon set her brush down, raising a finger, the other hand pointing at that finger. “Lara’s out with her sister, Yoonchae’s sleeping next door right now, and… Megan’s still at home seeing her family.” Daniela hummed, “Yeah, her flight’s tomorrow.” Manon nodded, “Yeah, so Megan’s not back yet. And Laffy and n/n are out on their little date right now.”

Daniela squealed, slapped her in the arm, “Stop! People are gonna take that outta context!”

Manon faked a scared gasp, going back to fixing her hair. “Hybe, if you’re watching, I didn’t say that.”

user01 l/nfiz on a date… i can die happy now

user02 MANZ JUST CONFIRMED L/NFIZ LESGO

user03 never EVER pr train this woman

“Yeah, wait, I think Sophia posted it.” Daniela pulled up a Weverse post Sophia had put up not long ago of her in a movie theatre in front of a movie poster. “y/n’s been meaning to watch the movie for her favourite actress and Sophia, of course, agreed to go with her. They’re getting us dinner on the way home, so I’m praying y/n does the shopping. Sophia always tries to trick us into eating healthy.”

“Yeah, she thinks she’s slick too,” Manon snorted, “Let’s be so for real though, y/n opens her mouth and I ain’t ever heard Sophia respond with ‘no’, that’s all I’m saying.”

user04 Manon is so messy I love her

user05 so she’s a down bad girlfriend huh…

user06 manon is a mindset i want to embody

“Yeah, y/n just exists and Sophia’s smitten. Bro, last time they went out for a ‘quick grocery run’, they came back with bags on bags of shopping. I know this little gold digger did not pay with her own money,” Daniela chirped, “I was in the living room when Sophia’s dad called to ask why her card was maxed out.”

Manon sighed, “Chat, let me tell you, Sophia spoils y/n rotten. And I mean, rotten. This woman don’t need no sugar daddy, she done made a sugar momma outta Laffy.”

“Sophia plays favourites. I don’t appreciate it.” Daniela joked.

[ so basically sophia’s THAT type gf, ok, ok… taking notes for science rn ]

[astralnymphh]

fuck and pretend ౨ৎ

𖤐 .ellie williams with a breeding kink⊱.

౨ৎ "gon' make you a baby mama, hm?" 🌸

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

⋆' summary; bright blessings, aphrodite. hazy harbor of your lust, loose ribbons, and smooth touch. a strawberry sun kisses the earth with its sunset, a gradient so divinely captured above your picket fence visible from the kitchen window. a front row seat to dusk settling as you get fucked, the soppy wet clashing of your loins erupts. ellie, with her goddess given right, will knock you the hell up.

⋆' cw; dom!ellie, horndog!ellie, farm!ellie, breeding kink obv, depictions of cum + spit + nipple play + slight food play + spanking + fondiling + very slight lactation kink + rough mannerisms + dirty talk + rough talk + cum kink-ish + gentle dominance + cocktip teasing + strap sex + fingering (r, barely) + finger sucking + multiple positions (bent over, on the counter) , 'her cock' used more than 'strap', some plot + backstory, very detailed descriptions of fucking, smut heavy, reader has fem style/wears skirt, petnames; babe, baby, mama(kinda), slut, whore(not in dialogue), bitch(not in dialogue)

⋆' pairing; farm!ellie x housewife!reader

⋆' a/n; i'm horny. ⋆' wc: 6.7k ellie's masterlist 𖤐

a brilliant orb in the sky permeates a hot singe to your skin, making a day meant for mundane mutilation of vegetable roots drinking up the rich soil, dreadful. oh how you longed to be inside with your girlfriend, ellie, the rufescent headed mutt that pawed you to take a break, on the bed, in her lap. 'later, baby.', you just had to say that. but no, you just had to work, huh? the autumn sun bearing tidings of a good harvest just had to sing an enchanting tune, lulling you to the outdoors.

a heap of green already lines your wheelbarrow, a yelling chance to dip and jump into ellie's arms, who ensconces her bottom to the pleasures of a springy sofa in the family room, scribbling away matters that clot her noggin. oh, it would be so divine to just die of exhaustion in her grasp, straddling that tepid lap beckoning a cozy seat, melding your fingertips with the tense ache that mantles her neck, while she lewdly palpates the chub fat of your ass she deems 'a cute tush' with those strapping hands of hers.

"fuck it." the barrows handles drop to the grassy ground, giving the produce in the basin a bit of a bumpy ride.

the most salivating notion wins, food, fucking food. you burst into that kitchen with a sugar craving, a hellacious craving that puppeteers your fingers to fondle the beige flour into a meshy dough, powdering up your fingertips til it caked under your nail. eugh. 

 a strawberry and cream pastry of crispy golden beige delight is your end goal, pictured to be a celestial five star treat in your rather delusive fantasies. the butts of ruby strawberries stabbed through as you pull the stems out, gleaming juices of a translucent pink coating up your fingers so sweetly, you just had to pop them in your mouth. sucking all that flavor off, like a fuckin' lollipop.

you drift your finger out clean, a long smack squeaking from your lips, and then hum in rumination, "hmm, lemons– or no lemons? lemons.. or no lemons?" quietly spoken, tossing your eyes between a ripe lemon and the pulped strawberry.

"no lemons," ellie, bearing the element of surprise, intrudes on your introspection. speaking with a low, coarse timbre, pitch breathy, "hi babe." her body is then suddenly pressed into your backside, hand slithering down your hip and caressing your pantyhose– clad thigh gently. 

"oh shit– ellie!" you yelp, instinctively pushing your rump back on her groin devoid of purpose, "ya' spooked me.." a throaty whine thrums from you.

"nah– u're just easily spooked." her brows pinch opposingly, slowly creeping her jaw in the cornered nook of your neck, parched lips nipping the flesh with summery hot licks.

"hehe– that tickles.." you jerk away slightly from her scruffy tuft of coppery hair like a plume stroking your skin.

a smile grows pliable against your skin, "good.." muffled ellie, wet smacks eliciting from her hungry latch.

"bored of ur' journal?"

"uh–huh.."

"or just happy that I'm here?"

"mhm.." she dozily agrees, slinking her head off your scruff, "missed you' out there."

"oh, i bet." you frolick kittenly, snatching up the same strawberry you pulped through earlier to cut it, "got fucking tired of hauling that barrow 'round anyway." you complain, speaking with discernable strain in your tune.

"hmm." she hums in consideration, worried about the amount of work you lug on your shoulder from a day–to–day basis, "l'mme help." 

her fingers cottonly twine through yours, biceps hugging yours, chin perched softly upon your neck, taking both the strawberry and knife from you and cutting it deftly, chhp, chhhp, chop!– goes the sound of buttery slices.

you slump your head aside, just relishing the warmth for a moment, at genuine peace that your girlfriend was there. she was so soft with you, softer than petals, gently domineering at any split mention of fatigue. laying the midday away on the couch? joins you instantly, pressing and kneading the tender skin of your swollen feet while discussing more than humdrum topics. stomach rumbling loud enough to raise the dead? she immediately rounded the kitchen's trim to cook you a plethora of meals, taking every picky craving into heavy consideration. indecisive about your outfit? she would glide an oaken chair up to the dresser, plant you on her lap– in your undergarments, and choose what she personally fancies, sneaky hand groping your thigh.

"there you go." she mutters ardent to your shoulder with throaty rasp, knife clanking as she sets it aside.

"thanks baby.."

"n'problem.." her lips fumble the words, settling on bespattering the biome of your stretched neck with wet kisses– subtly hungry ones, and reposes her arms to slink over your hips, enticing them closer into her groin.

you scoop one pile of diced strawberries into the gullies of both palms, letting them plummet into a plastic green mixing bowl, plop.. plop, humming a tune, "hmmmm…hhmhmmm…" 

you hear her chuckle, a small vibration amassing the length of your skin with an accompanied smile growing.

"you laughin' at my song?"

"mhh, that's not a song." she criticizes, lips pursing into a bud.

"hmph, rude." you circle your eyes in offense, faintly swaying your hips while you pestle the fruit into a sweet puree.

her hips react and ungulate a sluggish grind into your rump, acting impassive to it, "s'bored.." she croaks, clammy forehead sticking to your jaw.

"hmm?"

she doesn't clarify, instead, begins to nick your neck with pinched lips, letting the skin gingerly spring out each time. her hips, however, grow rough– wanton. little bounces of her humps smush your thighs into the counter, mind clearly anchored in her imagination.

"els?"

her relentless chafing continues, piling up the fabric of your skirt into a creased mess which only gets worse when her hand wedges between your bodies, palming her crotch with a few squeezes, "mhhn.." 

your fingers nearly slip off the pestle, the stimuli of her humps withering away that poise calmness, "baby.." you whine.

"so, so– bored, baby." her grubby mitts fall and knead the shallow flesh of your hip bones, applying detectable pressure in the crevice beneath your hip bone. smutty, balmy prints sunk into your skin.

this fucking horndog, this auburn maned lovergirl could never let you rest on a busy afternoon like today. all the time, she was just pleading for pussy– pussywhipped, grinding her pelvis on your thigh amidst cuddling, to nudging your butt against her groin with both hands, whenever you bend over. you can hear the indecencies boiling on her wicked tongue right about now, pleading for a tryst.

a long suspire whorls from your nostrils as you turn in her embrace, nudging her fervid laps off.

she pouts a petulance, wet lips sheer in the frosty panes light, "why'd you move?"

"talk t'me," wisped sweet like honey, "what's on your mind?" you lace your fingers with hers, swinging your linked hands side to side playfully.

she pours a groan out, screwing her lids tight and throwing her head back, "baaabbee.." ellie was plagued, at minimum. lewdly plagued. a notion that topped her mind and wouldn't let go.

you thought it was, temptingly cute. the way she reels her head back down, jarring her weary eyes open to beadily gaze upon you, lips parting moistly.

"i have this.." a sharp gust waves off her throat, humbled to even say this, "dirty fuckin' idea.."

"enlighten me."

"i just think.." her eyes deviate from yours, staring at the cupboard, "you'd be really hot as a mama." a hint of smokiness grits in her voice, gazing at you with the most haunting bedroom eyes known to womankind.

"oh really? that's illuminating." you knit your brows, feigning marvel.

"tcch–" her textured lips creak into a cresten grin, hissing shortly, "like.." her fingers flee yours, drifting two brawny grips on your waistline, inching closer with each idea she lists, "i could take care of you, start baths for you, cook you meals and carry you to–"

you intervene gently, "you say it like you can get me pregnant." and laxly cross your arms.

her forehead creases in offense, "uh, i mean," and eyes barrel roll to the ceiling, then on you, chiseling a smirk opulent with smutty intention, "don't need a baby t'do.. whatever."

"whatever?" your tune curls.

"could just.." she pulls your groin snug to hers, pelvis protruding farther than her torso, thighs melding together, "fuck, and pretend." 

you blush, mouth gaping in muted elation observing the way she pushes her crotch into you, "so foul.." you giggle.

"so?" a hand lifts from your hip, notching your chin firmly up to face her, "can i convince you?"

"how?"

an absolutely mischievous look casts over her features at that 'how?' , prominent dimples that plot her next words to flow out.

"here," she releases your chin and swipes a grip on your wrist, jerking you forward as she tugs that hand between her legs, "feel that, baby?" whispering a fingerbreadth away, toasty breath misting like perspiration on your earlobe.

you palpate the inseam, knobbing over a phallic bulge with her hand guiding you. oh my goddess, she's been wearing that shit all day.

"can i fuck y'with it, hmm?" she begs, voice drenched with silken clemency, and leathery callousness– control awaiting your word, lips of coquetry avid to your ear.

truth of the matter, at the back of her perv–diluted noggin, she knows she can't exactly get you pregnant. however, that's the hidden perk nobody talks about. play the part, make it feel real, and it still sticks the same. she can fuck you over, and over– and over again, sow her seed and never reap the physical consequences.

that girl can pretend well.

you feel the heat clump on your cheeks, turned on by her forthright request, "here?" you question foxily, feeling the excitement slowly trickle through your loins.

"yeah– right on this fuckin' counter." unfiltered and dirty, so suddenly, so tantalizing. her hands pitch up and draw upon your skin like a woven page, lurking the entire span of both arms around your hips.

"god, els.." you cling your arms around her nape, chest pressing firmly on hers, "i'd fucking love that." 

her face lit up brighter than all the stars combined. reclining brows, smug–smothered eyes, and the most uneven smirk to ever jerk her lips. a brightness– so carnal.

"yes.." sounded so relieved in her breathy mutter, wetting her chapped lips before she slinks onto yours, dragging hers over the plush of your buds with a passion.

"mhh..mh.." you moan onto her lips, pushing with tantamount force to her hungry kisses.

a wet smack snaps the huddled space as she parts, "can taste those strawberries, ooh~" she huskily frisks with arching brows, returning to your lips with a pucker and slobber.

all during your tepid makeout eggs you both on, pink muscles entwining, mouths nearly trying to swallow each other up, bodies rocking like a ship riding the tide– her willowy digits tuck under the fat of your asscheeks, groping and pulling the two globes apart in rounded circles tight enough to cleft the chub with creases, frilly fabric of your skirt snagging on the ridge of her bouncing palms.

"love' this cute tush." she states with a satisfied scratch in her voice, a deep laugh gusting onto your lips.

"a fuckin' slut for it huh?" 

"yeah baby!" she halfway hollers into your mouth, gripping your asscheeks like crab claws and giving a good shake– featherlike slap included.

you buck your ass out for her usage, urged to wave your hips in a figure eight motion, which she really likes, too much maybe. a booming smack! resounds the kitchen as her hand draws back to indulge a harsher slap, rubbing the red streak left in its path.

you yelp throatily, spitting from her avid lips, "fuck! ellie.."

"hey– c'm back here." her head follows your retreating one, plastering your mouth sealed and tongue–fucking you with that pushy muscle worming past your teeth.

her horny ass just kept spanking both cheeks, which triggered a proud "mmm.. mhm…" to intone on your lips as you jolt in reaction, caressing the flush heat gathered by each whack.

"more?"

"ghhnn– elli.."

"fuckin' take more." she veers that hand back and lands another blow, creeping over your shoulder to perv at the nylon–confined skin. right, your pantyhose.

you tuck and bat your lashes in the crook of her neck, whining right into the ears eager to hear you break.

but, she couldn't do that with all this fabric, could she now?

"nice.. but.." her grubby claws then prod the cloaked crack of your ass, a shrill ripping through the air as she tears a massive hole in your pantyhose– wholly for better access, now exposing your full behind.

you quench a lapse in your throat, "oh, my god." and peek over to eyeball the torn material, noticing how discolored your butt has become and poking your hip out.

"hurt too much?"

"n–no.." you swallow again, reverting your pupils to her, "hurts just right.."

she smirks merry to one cheek, hollowing an alto, "makes' you a dirty fucking slut, amiright?" spoken on a crescendo, second–guessing with her lips gravitating back to yours, but she pauses.

it dawned on her.

something even more impure tethers her attention, down– down, on that chest of yours.

the rustiling of fabric chafes as her hands slide from torturing that delicate rump further, then splutters, "take ur' fuckin' tits out, 'gunna suck on them." just straight up, stern edge like metal to her tone.

no hesitation hurdles your hands, straying from her neck you pleat your shirt over your head and stretch back to unclasp your bra with a pinch, letting it tumble off your chest and hit the ground with a padded thud. the gale of cold air hardens your nipples, perking up two nice targets for ellie to ogle– both in sight, and in taste.

a sweet– tart taste. 

"hmm," ellie's pupils wander off your drooped chest and fixate on the separate dish of intact strawberries, glowing pink in the dying suns' radiance. her elbows straighten and forearm extends towards these gems of interest, scooping one up with her thumb, index and middle combined.

"what are you doing with my–"

"shh, just watch." her prudent fingers then toughen and squash the berry above your clavicle, letting the barmy pink liquids squeeze through her knuckles and drip onto your chest.

a gasp dries your throat, "ellie!"

a few mashed bits plunk down amongst the heavy fall of berry juices, managing to drizzle down the rise of your breast and split over your nipple. mission success? though now the victim strawberry– squelched to a gross chunk, makes a home chucked into the handy trash bin.

ellie licks her lips and stares dead straight on your hardened nipples. itching for a taste of that strawberry deluge.

"fuck.." her throat quivers, taking no time in searing the distance between her tongue and your breast promptly with a hunched back, bringing her heart–shaped pucker to the strawberry–saturated nub and locking on, sucking hard, making you jerk. ellie definitely has a thing for this.

"was wasting that strawberry– mhhf'– worth it?" you sport a quip quickly, the small vacuum sensation on your nipples only just starting to nip that pleasure kernel in your brain.

it definitely was. cause ellie had already vampire–suckled all the flavor off your bud, now snaking her tongue up the excess stream of juices and retreating back. those juice–coated lips squelch open, muttering, "so' fucking worth it." 

so fucking worth the lady boner penned behind that zinc rivet.

her lips wrinkle around your other nipple, opening and closing her mouth around the bud with a slow nutate of her head. inside her mouth was so warm, so wet, and the fleshy texture of her lips felt fucking riveting. the stimulated twang of salacity brought in the form of sucks and licks has your pussy sappy and caked in precum, and ellie could tell how wet you've gotten by the yearning chafe of your thighs, so she forcefully wedges her knee there– making you grunt at the pressure, and her giggle at your response.

you card your fingers through her hairline, fondling her autumn tuft while she sucks that swelling nipple dry, causing an 'mmhhh.' to vibrate from the depths of her lungs, guttural on your boob. one of her hands rove up and cusps the same boob against the webbing of her thumb and pointer, squeezing the blubber of mass further into her wet rosy hole– like she's genuinely sucking something out of them– thirsty, her parched tongue laps a gloss of gleaming saliva over the bumpy node, determined to have you unravel.

"oh, els.. baby~" you tug on her hair, piqued by the blossoming ache in your clit raring for ellie to just get on with it.

"mhhpghmm.." her lips suction with a pop, roads of ruby red mottled on her cheeks from your angle. so eager to toy with that forming arousal, but with persuasive control.  "s'this convincing enough?"

you toss your head back, extending the curved surface of your neck, "i'm already convinced.." you gasp for air, surfing a breathless moan behind the carry of your voice.

another pop sound has her lips wandering up from that sensitive bump and craning to your lips, taking advantage of the situation. her fantasies overrun that dirty mind of hers, aching mentally– and physically, to have that pussy engulfing her thickset cock. to fuck you raw. fortunate for her, you were already won over by the rough terrain of her tongue setting you over the edge.

"m'kay baby.." her humid syllables shudder over the span of your midface, promptly, churning into a demanding growl. "turn around, n' bend over the counter. doin' it right here, c'mon." her words usher you and fingers force you, contorting your hips with her steely grip without even giving you the chance to move yourself, other hand reaching over to knock the bowl of strawberries– now scattered across the tiles like the starry sky.

you wobble around on your ankles as she bucks you into the counters' rounded steel rim, laying her palm plumb between your shoulder blades and pinning you down, pitching a yelp from you when the cold surface practically freezes your nipples.

that's when you realized, she wasn't playing around.

ellie's spindly fingers pleat your skirt up with a swat, then drift down to catch and tuck in the lacy band of your panties and tug hard, pulling the thread to the point of frayed snapping– without giving you a wedgie– until she could remove it from your hips through the hole in your pantyhose, chucking it somewhere east of you. now she could gape at everything. the bare truth of your engorged pussy rearing for her, splayed out like a whore. nuder than an amaretto.

and it made her giggle in gratification, lugging that adams apple around with her wheezy laugh.

"look at 'chu bent over like this," she gruffily awes at your ass jacked to her hips, golfing up a 'hawwkkk' and a 'puh!' as she aims a spit down the crack of your ass. 

it streamlines through the canyon of your backside 'til it mixes with the slick of your slit. can't let it go to waste, so– she jams the soapy spit into your hole, to which you clamp her in.

a jerky chuckle croaks from her chest, rustiling her mullet with each jounce, "sensitive now, are we?"

"ellie–" 

"okay, okay– i'll stop." she slides her fingers out, popping them in her mouth while she observes you from this lewd position.

in the sorbet light, you were gorgeous. cunt dripping nectar like a waterfall to your thighs, ass hiked up and sloping into the plateau of your back. you looked so perfect. perfect for her hands to melt into. perfect for her cock to sheathe into. just divine. positively divine.

"alright.." her voice rattles deep, slightly muted in a gulp after tasting your cunt on her tongue, swishing her spit around to pick up every note of flavor.

moments later, you hear the metal clank of a buckle jingle from behind, the prongs strike the floor as her jeans clump up at the base of her ankles, blanketing her feet. then, a silicone tip slots it's bulbous nature between the top of your thighs, smacking up onto your slickened labia playfully.

"god– it's like a fuckin' waterpark back here babe."

her feet scoot closer, poking the chub of your globes with her jutting hip crests, enraptured in the pure way your folds already look like they want to swallow her up. they faintly part as the silicone cockhead smears your arousal from clit to hole, hole to clit. a half–moon smile dilates into the apples of her cheeks, prideful. a smirk you can hear loud and clear in her dirty, outrageous comment. 

"gonna knock that pussy up, hmm? gonna fuck a pair of twins in you so good baby~" she coos, delirious seeing the head of her cock slosh around the fat lips of your pussy, grooving two concentrated lines between her brows and wagging her peachy muscle wedged in her lips. she was like a devil in heaven, and you an angel in heat. two strapping grips slap and clutch onto your ass, the fat bulging through each finger gap, calloused fingertips blending with the texture. her knees bend to crouch her hips slightly, dragging the hem of her brown button–down up by the protrusion of your ass as she aligns her frame level to your cunt. one hand drops down to catch hold of the faux cock and toys the rim of your gummy hole, sinking the head in just barely.

your sensitive entrances' involuntary answer to this scant plugging of your hole clenches the tip up fast, sucking it further in. ellie loved that. loved how your pussy was taking her without a halt. a love so dazing, she begins slipping and inserting the head only, eyeing the contracting hole gorging over the rotund spade each and every small thrust.

a whiny complaint trebles off your gullet, "are y'putting it in? baby.. please." but the petulance in your plea just rouses ellie up– excessively.

ignoring you, her focus tunnels solely on the tight hole kissing her cock in intervals, pleating up her earth brown shirt to eye her constricting muscles speckled in freckles, the pale blue–glossy v–line cadreing her hunter green cock that only deepened the lines in her abdomen with each pump. with her gaze aimed downwards, she speaks directly downwards, "be a good pussy and take my cock, yeah?"

that was her game. her conflicting game. the only words you heard before she fastens the dick bulky in her wrapped grip and lugs her entire length inside, blowing your vulva thin with how straining her size was. wow. a sight she froths over.

"mhm–" she continues, tensing her chords up to flow out a breathy, gritty, whisper, "take my cock like a good pussy." 

you feel the force impact your cervix straightaway, globs of clear lubricant slip and pool through the slim opening her cock barely provides and drips onto your thigh, cold and sticky, marks like paint. "ellie– h'oh fuck!" you wail in the stinging sensation of sudden brimming, which only drives her to crack another slap blistering red on your ass, "eeah!" you squeak, tears scorching the shoreline of your blurred eyes.

she wanted a tear to slip out. she wanted a cohesive sign that her cock felt tight, warm, filling. a kind of filling that bumps your stomach, makes you feel pregnant. cause you would be, take my word for it.

ellie analyzes the new ring of creamy serum wrapping her base like a ribbon of white lace, milky delight. it fades as she drags her length out, and bubbles when she sheathes back in. nothing could stop her finger from sampling the slimy slick, but, no. not this time. 

in her mind, that's her precum. her sperm. not a drop should be dripping out of you.

"g'nna fuck my seed– so, so.. deep." 

and by her word, she knurls her torso into a convex bend as she swathes over you, cottony shirt to back, tickling your flesh. like a dog licking your ear, she mashes the lobe of your ear with her soaked lips. chanting a one–lined hymn in your ear as her cock skids along your ridged walls and returns with a pumping rhythm, keeping your pelvis steady in her slack grip.

"makin' you–" slap, slap, slap, "a mama'," plop, plop, plop, "with my c-cock.. no–one else's." her huffs fan the baby hairs near your ear, lips brushing so dearly on the conch. each sticky bop of your hips plays like a hand smacking water, bringing shame to the ears of every wall witnessing this dirtier–than–porn event. 

your features tog up into a woozy countenance. lips wedged open like an orange slice, pupils reading your upper lashes like a string of musical notes, head jiggling with each lavish pump into your pretty little pussy. it feels so fucking good. spurts of pleasure that make you wish on every damnable star for her to actually get you pregnant. the way she fucks you like this, all pathetically horny with her own ass clenching into each thrust. you'd take her babies in a yoctosecond.

her bushy brows curl and furrow in enthrallment, enthralled by every honeyed whimper she pulls out of you with her dick. it fed her ego, the greedy ego telling her she is impregnating you. each vein, bumpy on the creasing skirt of your blushing hole shaped to fit her cock, felt so real– it hurts. ellies' had enough. she skims her palms just a hairbreadth down the planet of your ass to sink her talons in the supple crevice of your hip and thigh, held hard enough to move you. this meant only one thing.

ellie was tired of playing it safe.

her torso pastily unsticks from your back, casting a gray shadow with her hover, grunting, "listen– t'me," her hips sway and punch with heftier, vehement– stickier thrusts, the fat plastic cockhead sending a flux of pressure with each smash into the tacky wall of your vagina, "answer– d'ya think, mhh– our kids will have auburn hair, like me? frhm– freckles, like me? my eyes?" 

the constant abuse to your cervix chokes up your throat, warbling and going "guh, guhp– unh! fhhummk.." with your flaccid lips damp in slob, like a filthy mess of a bitch.

wrong answer. 

you should have just offered up her name in an exaggerated moan instead.

the extent of her hand extracts from your hips– not without her gift of nail–birthed sickles indenting your skin like scales, and coils back to whack your vainly treated glute. it makes your vision go white, tenderizes your skin and makes you scream.

"n–nnono, els–"

"so– no they won't look like me?" she laughs to herself, and it almost sounds– amusingly disappointed.

"n– yes, yes! they w–"

your throat then nearly guzzles her fingers base knuckles deep, muffled and choking on their stacked width.

"just shut up." ellie warns in a gruff. thing is, she knows that as long as her thickset tip keeps slamming into that assaulted cunt– she'll never hear the end of it. and that's the best part. confliction.

the counter was virtually warming up on your compressed cheek from how long you were in that position. slippery sweat dampened a puddle under your face in a thin pellucid coat. from your current view, you could only see her wrist pushing on your chin– cranking your jaw ajar, and her humping motions bleary in your peripherals. not like seeing her was necessary, you already felt her through and through. 

ellie, with her hips strapping you down in prolonged rams that cause a sharp sear on the hind of your thighs, with the downright sedative pleasure brought by the bumping base to her neglected clit, finds herself earnestly thinking about how a family would look on this farm. her baby, growing in you. her kids, skipping through these rustic halls. her wife, devout enough to nurture them through childhood. but on the perverted hand, her cock fucking a future generation into you, 'her' pussy gluttonous enough to consume it up to the hilt, her whore, eager enough to be the cumbucket to breed as she pleases.

she's gonna breed you like the horndog she is.

but you want to be full of her offspring.

"baby–" a stiff moan pours from her lips, and she glides her cock and digits out. snow white cream follows in strings, strung to her shaft and springs out like paint splatter on the ground as her strap bounces down to a flaccid level. wow. she moans again, this time, breathlessly, "baabby.. get'on th' counter.." 

"hmmuh?" flubbed you, barely able to see the picket fence outside the kitchen window through your graying haze– shapes blurred and melted into each other.

"said," the lone grip on your hip is replaced with the clammy bend of her elbow, tucking under your womb and flipping you around, "on' the counter." and lugs you hurriedly onto the sudor–coated surface with her grasp under your knees. her hands flatten on either side of your shaky thighs– vividly like jello– as her torso huddles close in your space. now that she could see your face, it was sexually comical. 

doe–eyed and glossed, lids puffy and red. patterns of your own saliva glissade down your chin and gleam in the soft light behind you. so hot.

her teeth bear in a parted smirk and she drunkenly stumbles her face down. then, she notices something. a pearly strand of sleek cum trickling over your perineum. like a melted popsicle, you drip everywhere, all over that counter space.

ellie's tongue ticks on the roof of her mouth, sighing, "mmh' fuck, pussy dripping everywhere– clean this counter afterwards, won't you?" spoken like a silken demand, index pointing at the mess.

you keenly nod, squinting with those weepy eyes as you try to discern the moving colors of your girlfriend right as she heaved her fat cock right back inside. stars. stars heat you skin and strike your vision. a night of black spots burn through your eyes and caper around– obscuring ellie's blissed out face. you were already fucked out from the last position, so fucked, you nearly came at the meaty expansion of your aching hole.

ellie could tell, and that was her cue. her goddess given cue to bottom out. the friction of her girth akin to a fist stuffing you up was pushing up on your g–spot, and that knocked a tear out. the ones lashing at your ducts to release, finally did. 

you couldn't feel anything else– anything, but her cock.

moist sloshes cram up the space between you too, smacking and dragging as before. faster, harder, her hips never lapse and pick up the speed. tapping you out like a nozzle draining syrup from a tree, gushing and coating her cock beautifully. smack– smack– smack– goes her groin deluged in your sweet sex juices connecting like webs with each bash of your hips.

on comes a dirty row of her impudent and vile comments– barely stable voice from how fast she pumped, all tepidly whispered on your neck.

"knockin' that fhckin' pussy up– huh?"

you can feel the warmth radiating off her face a breath away, a cheek–length strand of hair now sticks to the sweat veiling her hairline. pores beading with glassy perspiration. just as red as you. huff, huff, gasp.

"that pretty pussys' mine– mhh, all mine."

ellie's palms leave two clammy prints on the marble slab when her fingers pop off and clasp your pelvis. with this grip on you, she pushes your hips hard on her relentless pounds. no wall of your vagina lacks a thrashed kiss from her dick, your hole was just too tight for any air pockets. that tight. just pure ush–gush.

"god' m'sucha dirty slut for ur' pussy, such a fucking whor– ughhn!– wantin' to make you–a mama." grizzled her in a lower voice, but still so rough, sweating and huffing like a dog in heat.

the cupboards creak and squeak, scarcely bearing the racket she induced with her fucking into you.

the intensity marches on.

"els– els, I'm gonna cum.." 

it was nice to hear, but she was infinitely more focused on cumming herself. she was close. very close. eyes screwed tight in the straps kickback digging her clit with firm pressure,  knuckles flushed white as they bent and tried to carve into your hips. ellie couldn't get enough of you.

"yeah– me too, nghh~"

her own slick begins to lather up her crotch, sticking up that auburn bush, dripping off the strapbase and staining the crinkled jean pile directly underneath her.

the kitchen reeked of cunt– yours and hers. delicious sex miasma. the scent of raw arousal coats your nasal cavity, lulling you both to climax– two hearts on the same beat.

but there was one thing. one thing you could give her, that'd change your lives from there on out.

"baabe–" a shallow utter gusts from her lips, shuddering, "can' i fuck you– god, fuck you like this? mate you– make babies with you, more often?" her voice warbles, fighting back the breath that wanted to give away.

the plunging and swelling of her dick parting your walls made it potently harder to answer– but, you creak, taking all the breath she would give you, mouth to mouth.

"yes, ellie– i want to have them."

her eyes squinted ever so slightly, sharpening, pupils blown. a wicked, scantily–contained smirk tugged at the corners of her lips, a glint in her eye revealing the excitement she felt by your words. in a heartbeat, her lips met with yours– wisping and wetting each other up.

but it was no feat to the sudden acceleration of her pistoning hips.

ellie's lips withdraw, moaning rigidly with buffering pants, "gon' make you a baby m–mama' now– ooh fuck!" feeling the same rise to orgasm tighten her stomach. 

"yes– yes! unh‐ uh fuck, ughh!" 

the clanging cupboards bang and thud as they do, but your moans eventually clamor up over them. her cock, sought the last final blows to your gummy ring inside, gathering up all that viscous serum in strings stuck to her bulbous head. this was it. she was finally getting her reward– viscously.

"love you–"

it tightens.

"s'much–"

it pulls.

"thank y– unngghh!"

she snaps.

your thighs convulse and lock around her hips as she buries her dick deep inside, plugging that bruised–to–hell mucousy cervix up. a high so heavenly it curls your body up to hers, cumming all over that filthy fucking cock in clear spurts, plashing all over the veiny shaft that had you weeping moans.

ellie had came too, matter of fact, all over the floor.

a dense and husky moan grates from the lowest region of her diaphragm, "hhhggn– uhhugh– fuck, baby." 

her eyes grew taut and scrunched in ecstasy, jutting her hips and clenching her ass to ride out the orgasm. a spew of her release taints the straps footing and leaks down her thigh, saturating in her skin. veins popped in her gripe, incisors bit her lip nearly hard enough to break skin, and eyes twitched back tenfold, casted heavenward.

a sunset clasps the shingle roof from above, depicted so innocently behind the pane, unknowing to what has come of you two. 

the moment softens.

and you're left with two fatigued bodies.

her arms loosen and flop on your sprawled lap, and her head finds a collapsed purchase on your shoulder. ellie's chest rose, fell, and rose again, swallowing up all the air her lungs lost in the heat. 

"think I just died," she dramatically heaves from her chest, gulping up the pooled spit in the trenches of her gums. a giggle shakes her, "hehe~ did you die?" she jests, nudging her limp hand to your shank.

the words carrying to your ears mish–mashed into an agglomeration of sounds strewn from her actual sentence, "there's n'pie in the oven.." you slur breathlessly, tongue nearly lifeless in the pit of your mouth.

ellie tries her darndest to compress the laugh grizzling from her throat, still winded, "w-what babe?" her head tilts to gawk at you.

"god i'm so dizzy.."

she blows a raspberry from her lips and knits her brows– amused. of course she's a tad worried your energy had been worn from the fucking, but, that's the funny part. she actually did that. her buzzy voice coaxes you back to animation, "want some'in to eat?" 

wait.

that's literally what you came in here for.

wait.

you peek at the green dome next to you, toppled over with dotted strawberry wedges scattered all over the stony tile– and your strawberry jam. really ellie? a pout cockles your lips into a plumper shape, notching your head on a slope, "did'ju knock over.. all of my strawberries?"

she swings her head 'round, feigning innocence, "umm– nope, wasn't me." puffing up her cheeks.

"ellie." 

she blows tersely, "i didn't!" and throws her hands up defensively– in playful spirit.

"and you ruined my panties!" you scold lightheartedly and jab your heel in the back of her thigh– a little bit of punishment. 

"ow!"

a reaction spurns from your lips, replaced by a jaded expression of hushed brows and trying lips that curl your face into one of, content. ellie forced a few puffs to spill from her open oval lips, hereafter curling into that same shit–eating grin that knows she's guilty– chuffed by herself.

then it wanes. wanes like the moon bearing its shrouded cycle. she softens up, softer than the bunny hopping across thick green grass in the season of beltane. this felt more fundamental to her than you might think, but, caring for you was her duty of worship. ever since that day she met you– the evening plait with a crimson ember engulfing air at the center of an autumntime bonfire in jackson. cold perspiration stuck to the glass held in your hands, talking the very ears off every owl present to listen. you had shared, sung, flirted, and saved the kiss for later. a later spent in her bed, all night– rising at dayspring, where she asked you to be her girlfriend at the foot of her door, just as you took your leave. 

every wound you tended to, she tended to yours, and led you here. on this farm. in your own realm of heaven.

"but seriously– do you want something to eat?"

"yeah, i'll um.." you shoo her away from her parked poise between your legs, sliding your weight off the counter with a heft of your forearms pushing you off, "clean the counter." your toes ease onto the floor with a shaky wobble, unable to even straighten your legs out at first. damn, ellie, what have you done.

"yeah, nuh–uh," she briskly bends at the torso and bars her robust arms underneath your mid–back and in the fold of your knee, sweeping you off your heels.

"els, what the f–"

she tousles her woody auburn mullet in a wag of her head, crunching you up closer with her biceps, "you, babe– are going to rest. i'll clean the counter." her brows raise at the end of her emphasized sentence, a silent 'capeesh?'.

her amenability never ceases to blossom those heartstrings of yours.

"yeah, yeah.." your eyes toss around the rim of your brow bone, and land back on her in time to spot a chuckle churn her watermelon pink lips.

those lips then settle and purse into a pucker, idly sidiling her face plumb to your forehead and peppering a moist kiss, pulling back slowly with unhindered affection tugging the corner of her lips into a satisfied smile.

"see? m'taking care of you. just as if–"

"if i was pregnant?"

"mhm.."

"you want it that badly?"

".."

"well– maybe.. jackson has some adoptable kids?"

now you're just feeding that fantasy of hers.

taglist; @whore4abby , @picklesarenice69 (im too dumb to know who wants 2 be on my permanent taglist so pls tell me directly if u ever wanna be tagged in all of my fic posts)

[drvoos]

bruce wayne was known to throw galas. while he didn’t do it often, when he did, it was a hit. all the paparazzi could chatter about. everyone who attended were either family friends, acquaintances, or whoever wished to move up in the world of Gotham.

jason todd hated galas. as bruce wayne’s second son — rather, dick grayson’s brother — it was expected for him to at least show up for a few hours. those few hours were compared to torture by him. worse than what he experienced with the joker all those years ago.

the only thing that made these galas semi tolerable was you. you were like the sun, shining your comforting light on the shadows who filled every crevice. being batgirl it was also expected of you to attend for a bit, you faced it with a stiff lip and a good attitude. might as well make the best of it, right?

tonight, bruce was hosting his annual christmas gala. tons of people gathered in the wayne household, all with cheerful enthusiasm. jason rested against the wall, a look of boredom etched onto his scarred face. he had been there for only twenty minutes — dragged by his brother — and already he just wanted to go to bed. that was, until you showed up.

decorated in a red silk dress, you entered the room. the very first thing you did was greet people. your smile was wide and true as you glided through the crowd. he knew where you were going and who you were going to.

“you look nice.” you purred, reaching to rub your hand on his shoulder. he almost scoffed at your words. you were over here complementing him when you looked stunning. your hair was beautifully styled, your entire body wrapped in gold jewelry. regardless, he smiled and moved his hand to your waist.

“could say the same for you.” his teasing words made you let out a giggle, and it’s safe to say jason almost died. again. your laughter was like a heavenly tune, one he wished to listen to for the rest of his life.

“cmon big guy, let’s go mingle. then we can leave, okay?”

jason realized at that moment — maybe these galas weren’t that bad.

[voluptuarian]

I'm trying to avoid people's dumb takes on Nosferatu but I keep being exposed to the tip of the iceberg and am annoyed enough about it to rant about it.

There's nothing in there that implies she was a kid. She lived in her family home, in the room she had lived in her whole life-- very typical for an unmarried adult woman at the time, especially in a well off family. Everyone determined that this had to be Orlok "grooming" a "child" are just fixated on that interpretation because it's nasty-sounding enough that they can condemn the relationship as "irredeemable" and "problematic" without sounding like pearl-clutchers. It's the magic word that lets them look vindicated in writing the whole thing off. She's not played by a child, she is dressed and styled as an adult, and the needs she's expressing, for attention, for recognition, for physical and emotional intimacy, are in no way limited to children. She's a young woman yearning for things that everybody wants and she's been denied. Ellen having been neglected, lonely, and starved for affection doesn't negate her adulthood. Her walking into a bad situation as a result of all that doesn't make her "groomed." Plenty of grown adults wind up in bad relationships because they're naive and desperate for love.

Similarly, everyone determined that one side of the triangle here wasn't "real" or that she "actually" only felt a connection with one of them and nothing for the other is similarly ridiculous. Thomas is the relationship Ellen chooses intentionally and conscientiously and which provides her the future she wants while satisfying her physical and emotional desires in a safe, secure, loving environment. Orlok is the first love, the first major relationship that she fell into because she was reckless and desperate for affection, that at first satisfied her needs but turned sour and dangerous-- that relationship becoming scary, unpleasant, coercive, doesn't erase the good things they had together once. Ellen and Orlok is the bad breakup between people who's freak matched too well. In the normal world it'd be a bad breakup with a toxic partner; in hers he's unfortunately also a an amoral inhuman manifestation of consumption.

And as for "Orlok doesn't love Ellen blah blah he's only an appetite blah blah." Love is an appetite. Need is an appetite. Loneliness is an appetite unmet. It's all hunger!! Why the FUCK is a zillion year old ghoul aristocrat holed up in a ruin in Eastern Europe tuned in enough to immediately respond to the random calls of some nameless unimportant woman he's never met a thousand miles away?? Because he's as desperate as she is, and for similar things. He was already listening, was already looking for someone-- he was desperate and searching first. His needs are twisted because he's a literal monster, but they still echo hers. The freak is matched, the freak in this case being deep emptiness and desire to be wanted and embraced. Unfortunately for him, Ellen can look elsewhere to satisfy those desires when he no longer makes her happy and find people who will-- and she does. Orlok can only go where he is called, must be chosen under special circumstances, which, seemingly out of everyone within his considerable reach, only she has offered. If what Orlok feels isn't love, its the survival in his mockery of life of what would have been love. But what ends in real love with union, ends for him with destruction and a return to lonely solitude-- that's his curse.

Ellen saves the man she chose by rejecting their future together, by breaking their marriage vows, and by sacrificing herself. She chooses the sacrifice as an act of autonomy, but one that subverts her own desires and victimizes her. It's a tragedy, but it's also a victory. It's a succumbing to the predations of the lover who wouldn't let her go, but its also making peace with him, taking into her embrace a figure she hates and fears but still feels connected to. It's fulfilling the monster's insatiable need, granting him the union he craves the only way it can be: through his death. Orlok is loved, and betrayed, and saved. Thomas is loved, and betrayed, and saved. Ellen chooses love for both of them, betrays them both, saves them both, betrays and saves herself. All of those things can be happening at once, just as tenderness, rejection, repulsion, evil, and love can all be happening at once. Is it comfortable? No. That's the point! But expressing your discomfort with that story as "I will willfully misinterpret this movie and dismiss its themes in whatever most easy to excuse way I can because I feel uncomfortable" is the path of the hack and the coward, and I think that's the what the majority of these "takes" are really about.