#Vagina gel
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
p33p33p00p00 · 8 months ago
Text
this should classify as some sort of crime
1 note · View note
fletcher-healthcare · 1 year ago
Text
Vagina Tightening gel- Do they actually work?
Tumblr media
Vagina tightening gel works miraculously for women that feel as if their vaginas have lost their tightness. After using them, you might also think that it does feel different, but different isn’t tighter, and in many scenarios, it can be dangerous for the health of your vagina.
How vagina tightening cream works?
Some of the vagina tightening gels claims, that potent acerb properties can heal different kinds of vaginal health problems, from reversing or curing dryness and vaginal laxity to lessening discharge. These types of treatments will frequently claim exotic origins or tout ancient wisdom as part of their sales pitch. More expectations, the activity effect or a more energetic sex life to test the outcomes, might give women that use them the impression that the gel is working.
What truly happens when you use vagina tightening gels?
What many of the gels do is they dry out the mucous membrane that creates the vaginal lining, lessening lubrication. Without lubrication, you will get more stimulation and friction, as your vagina is tighter. Vaginal tightening gels might also cause temporary swelling of vaginal tissues that may be interpreted as tightening. You can easily buy vaginal tightening cream online. Although these creams cause slight irritation when applied, they are highly beneficial when it comes to vaginal tightening. You can easily check out these products online. Don’t waste money and jeopardize your vaginal health with unproved treatments. Go for the best vaginal tightening gels and creams available in the market.
0 notes
strangerstilinski · 18 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: eddie in blue jeans. eddie leaking in blue jeans. eddie cumming in blue jeans. that's it, that's the fic. [ 2.9k ]
𝗰𝘄: reader with a vagina & breasts, 1 occurrence where reader refers to themselves as a girl, overuse of italics probably, other than that we just have heaping doses of heavy petting, grinding, and kissing. oh! and a certain someone cumming in his pants ofc
𝗮/𝗻: imo the second half of this is where i reaaally shined, ok? there's just... something so *clenches fist* about eddie who's so turned on by you that he's stupid with it. anyway, thank you for reading! xx and remember to reblog to make eddie cum <3
𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖𝟏𝟖+ 𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
Tumblr media
The curls at the nape of Eddie's neck are damp where they tangle around your fingers. His breath rolls out in hot waves against your tongue, full, split-slick lips moving eagerly against your own. Eddie is kissing you like he thinks he might die without the taste of you, fervent and hungry and seemingly determined to stake some sort of claim on your mouth. 
You've only been at it for five minutes but, seriously, how in the hell did normal people ever make it through an entire evening without devouring their date? Either they are far stronger than you, or it's the power of something you'd simply dubbed The Eddie Munson Effect.
Regardless, you're feeling beyond desperate. 
Because you'd had to watch every single stumbling step Eddie made throughout the evening as he quite literally tripped over his own feet in a rush to open doors for you. He'd done so with all of his usual awkward charm, arm extended with gentlemanly grandeur — and on one occasion, he'd even bent at the waist into an adorably courteous little bow as he'd waited for you to step through. Each time, his hand found the small of your waist, and while he would linger a second longer than was strictly necessary, his touch always remained polite and comforting, never bleeding into the possessive brand that you'd noticed beneath the hands of men in the past.
Then again, every brush of Eddie's fingers over the course of the evening had sent sparks down your spine. 
There'd been one moment, when the wind had caught the hem of your skirt and sent it billowing up — you'd felt the cool air rush all the way up to the sliver of tummy above your underwear — but Eddie's hands had been quick to find your waist, smoothing the fabric back down over your thighs and holding it there for a beat. Thick fingers and clunky silver rings had hesitated on your hips until the breeze died down, and then Eddie's face had gone red in a way that had little to do with the chill in the air, and entirely more to do with the sudden realization of how close you were, how intimate the brush of his pinky was against the warm skin at the back of your thigh. 
And you absolutely had to take into account the condition in which he'd showed up on your doorstep. With a crisp white tshirt tucked neatly into the waistband of light-wash jeans. His hair shining lightly with gel, curls coiled in slightly neater than usual ringlets. With his jaw shaved smooth, and his skin smelling sharply of a rich, woodsy aftershave or cologne that gave you butterflies every time you breathed in.
Then there was the way each and every hearty chuckle that he'd let out over the course of the evening had curled in your ears and proceeded to pool pleasantly in your gut. The way every dramatic story retelling had left you fully enraptured right from the start. The way  every dimpled grin had practically sucked the air straight from your lungs. And your ever-deepening feelings for him had only solidified with each of his stuttered attempts to accept your compliments.
All evening long, you'd been eager to fast-forward, to get right here. Home, on your couch, thighs splayed wide over the cradle of Eddie's lap, skin flushed with heat, with your skirt rucked up and your sweater steadily slipping down your shoulder. 
And now that you're here, Eddie's hands have undertaken the impossible task of clutching at every part of you at once. Ringed fingers rake down your back only to grab ahold of your ass to drag you more heavily into his lap. Your teeth catch on his lower lip when he forces your hips to roll in a staggered rhythm, shaky thrusts driving his own hips up and slotting the bulge in his jeans just where you needed it to relieve some of the pressure between your thighs. 
You both gasp into the kiss at the friction that the poorly-synchronized movements are making. The rough chafe of his zipper and denim against the cotton of your panties is only just shy of being too much. It's delicious. 
"Y-your roommate-" Eddie pulls away to stutter against your cheek. 
"Out." You supply in a rush before your mouths are crashing together again like magnets. 
Eddie makes a small noise in the back of his throat, a satisfied sort of drawn-out groan that has your head spinning. You can still taste the lingering traces of the cigarette he'd smoked during the short walk back to his van, and the breath mint that he'd popped into his mouth immediately after. The mingling flavors are enough to give you a headrush. As if the combination of mint and nicotine were absorbing straight into your bloodstream merely from licking it from his mouth. But, maybe that has more to do with the way Eddie is kissing you-
Eddie seems to approach kissing with the same over-abundance of heart and enthusiasm that he does with literally everything else. Plush lips work against your own, smoothly encouraging your mouth open for him every time you dare to draw back for a quick breath. It's a perfect give and take, an intoxicating push and pull that you had zero qualms about getting lost in. 
This has always been your favorite part of foreplay. The slow-building desperation. The shared breaths. The wandering hands. The heated teasing that you felt pulsing in your clit and all the way down to your toes. It's something you normally relish in drawing out as long as possible, until your panties are soaked through and your lips are sore, but, fuck-
You can feel how hard Eddie is growing beneath you. The warmth of his cock burns all the way through his jeans until you swear you can feel it against your cunt and inner thighs— Until you swear you can nearly distinguish the sheer heat of the blood swelling his erection from the less-oppressive warmth emanating from his legs. And when his mouth trails down the line of your jaw to kiss and nip at your throat, you can't help but attempt to sneak a peek at the arousal you've drawn out of him.
The sight doesn't disappoint. 
His bulge stretches all the way from the bottom of the zip on his jeans and across the crease of his thigh. The obvious curve of his shaft straining against its tight confines stretches across his left thigh and then tapers out at the head of his cock—Jesus, he’s huge—and if you squint, you think you might even be able to make out a small spot, no more than the size of pea, where the light wash denim looks just a bit, well, wet. And, holy shit. 
It's drool-worthy. It's so hot. Your mouth might genuinely be watering just looking at it-
Oh, god. You really needed to kiss him just a little longer. You were certainly not about to be the girl who drops to their knees to suck a guy's dick within ten measly minutes of getting through the front door on a first goddamn date. That would be ridiculous. 
You'd make it at least twenty, surely — Maybe fifteen. 
In the meantime, more kissing. And that would be all too easy with the way Eddie's hands slip lower along the curve of your ass as he finds your mouth again. His fingers burying deeper into your flesh, rings biting with a sharp pinch that makes you keen and release an encouraging moan. 
There's a fire building behind your clit with every drag of your hips. You feel deranged beneath the haze of your lust, but Eddie only seems to be matching your need every step of the way. 
You've never seen him quite so out of control. So desperate, and God it's a beautiful sight. 
Eddie's spine arches forward from the back of the couch to push his chest to your own. Your hips stutter, driving down against the bulge in his jeans. The hard line of his cock wedges neatly at your center, fighting against the oppressive barrier of your underwear and his jeans. Dull as it is, it gives the barest hint as to what it would be like to have him actually pressing into your aching cunt, stretching you out. 
Just the thought makes your hips buck, little rolls of your hips re-doubling in effort. The pressure against your entrance has you whining pitifully as Eddie's tongue strokes over yours. One of those gorgeous, wide palms of his moves up to your jaw to hold your face steady as he attempts to swallow up your sounds. 
"Eddie." You pant brokenly, a plea. Because you're trying, really, but fuck. If you didn't get him inside of you — in one way or another — in the next few minutes, you very well might lose your mind.
Your fingers wind tighter into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp in that soft way that makes Eddie's cock jump in his pants. 
The noises you're making.. 
They're better than any song Eddie has ever heard in his entire life, high and needy and so fucking hot. Every little sound has Eddie's thighs flexing beneath you in an attempt to keep his erection pressed snug to your cunt, to push the intoxicating ebb and flow that the two of you have going over into something more. Into a constant, blissful friction. 
Another minute of the heavy grind of your pussy over his lap has Eddie's cock twitching again, his balls tightening up and his brain growing too foggy to hold back the needy whimpers that rise in his own throat. 
“Shit-” Eddie gasps, his voice gone raspy with need. 
You murmur something in response that gets muffled by Eddie's lips and tongue. Something about wanting his cock on your tongue but also possibly inside your pussy — The details are unclear. Eddie has no idea which exactly you're angling toward, but he's ready to bust already and you're both still fully-clothed, so. He's just praying to Ozzy that he'll even make it that far. 
He probably needs to take a breather, and really he's going to, but then your hips stutter and you let out the sweetest little moan and Eddie kind of goes dumb with it.
He's too far gone to hear the telltale rattle of keys against your front door, or the click of the lock that has your own head snapping up toward the doorway in surprise. You stiffen above him, your ass driving down against his cock as your movements come to a halt and your weight drops heavily into his lap. 
And shit, he'd already been fucking throbbing in his jeans. The new pressure on his erection is just too much. 
A small noise of shock and pleasure tears from Eddie's throat, a pathetic sounding thing that makes your cunt clench around absolutely nothing and a rush of arousal soak the cotton of your panties. His lips part beneath your own unmoving ones, his jaw gone slack around the broken moan that falls into the heat of your mouth. 
Eddie's hips buck up sharply, fingers biting meanly into your hips as warmth floods his briefs, cock twitching and eyes rolling back as he shakes through the quick waves of his orgasm. His brain is pure static, ears ringing with such strength that your nervous laugh and stammered greeting sound far off despite you being pressed so close to him. Everything sounded just a bit like he was underwater. 
His head clears a little as you brace your hands on his shoulders and push yourself up, his eyes popping open as the distance between you grows and the warmth of your body disappears altogether. You're smiling awkwardly, laughing despite yourself, with your gaze locked somewhere over his shoulder as you attempt to smooth out the wrinkles in your skirt — and then Eddie finally processes the sound of Robin's voice in the entryway behind him. 
Oh. Oh, fuck. 
Eddie's heart had already been beating heavily, but suddenly he swears he can feel each and every rhythmic pump of the blood in his veins. The strength of it makes his pulse thump so violently in the hollow of his throat that his eye might've been twitching in time with each beat. 
His gaze drops to his lap, where, to his horror, light blue denim is already a few shades darker. His cum is already soaking through his underwear and very, very quickly spreading into a wider, far more noticeable wet patch, and Jesus fucking Christ, this cannot be happening to him-
He tugs at his pant-leg desperately in an attempt to draw the fabric away from where the cum had pooled in the crease of his pelvis and then dripped steadily down the length of his thigh, but it's too late. 
He'd come.. so hard. And so much. His pants are stretched too fucking tight because he's sitting and you'd just rung out every last fucking drop of cum from his balls with your pretty pussy rubbing over his lap again and again and-
Robin's muffled curse breaks through his inner-turmoil, followed by the loud thud of something heavy landing on the kitchen counter behind him. Eddie turns sideways in his seat to find Robin with flushed cheeks and sweat beading on her brow, her arms draped limply around a large television set. She's panting exaggeratedly, mouth running a mile a minute as she regales the story of the older couple on the first floor who had upgraded to a 35-inch and offered up their old console for, quote: “Twenty bucks! A goddamn steal, you guys-!”
The two of you are babbling excitedly back and forth, the front door to your apartment still hanging slightly ajar all the while. Eddie realizes, belatedly, that Robin must've carried the behemoth of a thing all the way upstairs by herself — How the hell had she even managed that? 
“Eddie, would you mind giving her a hand with that while I clear a spot for it over here?” You delegate gleefully as you flutter back into the living room to do just that.
You rush to the console table against the far wall and quickly begin shuffling things around to make space for your new possession, stacking books and knickknacks and sliding the clunky record player as close to the edge as you can manage. 
“Oh, uh..” 
Eddie smacks his lips once, eyes dropping from you to the gargantuan fucking wet patch stretched across his thigh. While he's reluctant to dig his own grave, he fears he has no other choice. 
“-Well.. To that 'm gonna have'ta say..” 
He swallows and gives a nod to himself in resolve, a burst of air pushing past his nose as he snatches his jacket from the floor beside the couch and uses it to shield the focal point of his embarrassment, avoiding looking back toward Robin completely. 
“Shit, uh.. Nope. No, sorry." 
Your movements falter at his response, an amused little smile tugging at the corners of your eyes as you regard him, “No?” 
You laugh, like you're waiting for Eddie to clue you in on the joke.   
Of fucking course Eddie had opted to wear a pair of light wash Levis for your date tonight instead of black. Because now? There is no way in hell you and Robin won't see the evidence of his predicament the moment it's no longer hidden behind his leather jacket. 
If you see the way he'd shot off in his pants like a horny teenager from nothing but a little bit of kissing, Eddie is certain he'll never get a second date — Not to mention the constant ribbing he'd be destined to get for the rest of his Goddamned life from everyone else.
There's no way that Buckley won’t tell Harrington — with the weird and questionably platonic friendship the two of them had fallen into at some point around the time they'd graduated high school. And Harrington will, of course, inevitably spill the beans to Dustin. And then Dustin's loud mouth would manage to somehow tell absolutely everybody else in Eddie's life. 
He is so fucked. 
“Yeah, sorry, I gotta bounce, actually-” Eddie fights back a cringe, bounce-? What the fuck is he even saying? “I, uh, I forgot I have a.. A thing.” 
He can't quite hold back a wince then, at the sound of his own excuse in his ears. He's usually a lot better on his toes than this, but he's fucking floundering all of a sudden. 
It's because of you — it has to be because of you. You and your pretty eyes that are slowly narrowing in confusion and maybe a little bit of hurt. You and your angelic little voice, pushing out with a soft, “Oh.” 
But then you're nodding, a weak smile pasting on your lips to cover that flash of sadness he'd seen. You tell Robin you'll be back to help her in a moment and walk Eddie to the door, arms brushing as your gaze remains focussed on the scuffed floorboards. 
You're being sweet, because of course you are. You thank him for a wonderful date, tell him you'll call him, even lean in to press a delicate little kiss to his cheek that Eddie definitely doesn't feel like he deserves. 
When the door closes behind him, it sends a rush of air hurtling toward Eddie smelling distinctly of you. Like your perfume, and the spice of the candle sitting on your kitchen counter, and the sweetness of your shampoo. The scent makes Eddie's head swim with regret and his cock twitch weakly in his pants. 
Yeah, he's definitely fucked. 
1K notes · View notes
sexualwellnessproducts · 1 year ago
Text
What are the benefits of using yoni tightening gel ?
There are several benefits you will get if you use the right cream or gel to tighten your yoni and can help you to restore the elasticity of your intimate part. Sqineca have introduced VAT 21 an ayurvedic yoni tightening gel that helps to tighten and revitalises your V area. This Vagina tightening cream eliminates harmful bacteria, improves lubrication and blood flow of the muscles.
Tumblr media
For more details visit:
0 notes
businesspromoting · 2 years ago
Text
Jaguar Power Vagina Tightning Gel
Place order for  jaguar power vagina tightning gel at our website. From here you will get all kind of product at reasonable price.
0 notes
bigjackcapsule · 2 years ago
Link
0 notes
damiansgoodgirll · 4 months ago
Note
hi, I love your blog! especially your Damian x reader stories.
could you do a super fluffy, soft, Damian x fem!reader where reader comes home from work super tired and Damian helps her bath, change her clothes, and tells her a memory they share together as they fall asleep please❤️
damian priest x reader
‼️mention of nudity but no actual smut
Tumblr media
taking care of you
you just had the hardest week of your life.
two of your colleagues were sick so you had to do your job and theirs, you were barely home and everytime you came back, damian was out training or on the road with rhea.
you weren’t properly taking care of yourself too. quick showers, eating a lot of take outs, watching movies to help you fall asleep but ending staying awake because you couldn’t fall asleep, lacking hours of sleep and surviving with coffees and sugary drinks.
damian knew you were tired.
he saw it everytime he faced time you. he saw it when he came back home from travelling and you fell asleep on the couch still in your work clothes and with your favourite show on.
he just wanted to make you feel better.
you, on the other hand, couldn’t wait for saturday night to come so you could just rest all sunday.
so when saturday night came, you left your office and hopped in your car, driving your way home. once inside, you kicked your shoes off somewhere in the room and sat down on the couch.
damian was in the kitchen when he heard you.
“hey love” he smiled seeing you sitting on the couch.
“hey” you tiredly smiled back.
his heart ached seeing you like that. he told you so many times to quit working, that it wasn’t worth it, especially for the many hours you worked and the little wage you gained but you couldn’t stand the idea of not working, of not having your independency and having to depend from damian. he told you that he didn’t matter, that he was happy to provide for you, that he wanted for you to live your life, relax and travel but you still didn’t like the idea.
but you reached a point where you couldn’t handle it anymore.
“do you want me to cook something for you? we can order take out if you want” he proposed, softly kissing your hands.
“thanks…i’m not that hungry now…i just want to take a hot bath and sleep for 24 hours” you chuckled.
“okay” he sat up “come with me…” and you silently followed him. his hands led you towards the bathroom door and you watched him as he got a hot bath ready for you. you told him it wasn’t necessary, that he had a hard week too and that he had to relax but you were quickly silenced with a “nonsense my dear, i want to do this for you…”
so he helped you getting undressed, he gently removed your make up and he tied your hair up knowing that you recently washed it and he helped you inside the hot tub.
his hands covered in shower gel and lotion, while sitting on the edge, he gently massaged your back, making you shiver under his touch “you like this hermosa?” he asked you and you simply nodded.
“lay back a little mi amor” and you did as he told you. he washed your collarbone, your breast, your stomach. he helped you washing your legs too and the soft touches near your vagina almost made you tremble. there was no shame between the two of you. you were beyond past that time. counting all the times you took care of him after a hard show or showered him after a long training, but his hands, touching you there always made you feel good.
he chuckled when he saw your expression change “not now mi amor…even if you are so tempting, i want you to relax your body and mind, we have all the weekend together” you couldn’t help but agree with him.
“thank you damian…” your soft voice thanked him.
he saw how tired you were, even your voice shifted a little.
“is the water still warm?” he asked and you nodded “perfect, why don’t i set a timer and you sleep for a little while i cook something for you to eat? is there anything in particular you would like to eat? i know you said you aren’t hungry but you gotta eat something mi amor” his hand gently caressed your cheek.
“can you make me those toast that i love so much? the ones with cheddar and bacon? you make them so good” you asked him and he laughed, agreeing with you.
“yeah, they are pretty good” he smiled “of course i can make them…you stay here and sleep for a little, i’ll wake you up when they’re ready” and so he let you sleep for about fifteen minutes before waking you up.
he helped you changing in a clean t-shirt and underwear and he led you towards the bedroom “i know you don’t like eating in bed but we can make an exception for tonight” he said and you smiled when you saw everything he got ready for you.
your toast and some fries were waiting for you on the bed with your favourite drink too. there were fluffy blankets everywhere and your favourite show on tv ready to be watched.
“you didn’t have to do all of this for me…”
“i wanted to. you’ve been taking care of me for so many years that i wanted to do something nice for you too, you deserve this and way more y/n, tr amo” he smiled kissing your lips softly.
you enjoyed the rest of the night eating and falling asleep in arms, exactly where you felt safe the most.
250 notes · View notes
husbandograveyard · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media
Part of my 2024 Kinktober - Masterlist here
Prompt: Somnophilia Word count: 1430 Reader: No pronouns, reader has a vagina, no nicknames used Cw: somnophilia (so in its own realm of dubcon), cunnilingus, light hair pulling, just Nanami needing you desperately. minors / ageless blogs interacting will be blocked
Tumblr media
Nanami is exhausted when he comes home late. The tiredness weighs on his body, and he knows it can only be lifted with your presence. Overtime -his beloathed- was unavoidable on this mission, and all the way home he thought of nothing but you. Crawling into bed with you, holding you, inhaling your scent. He just knew it would make him feel better. 
He’s loosening his tie when he walks into the living room, surprised to find you on the couch in nothing but one of his shirts and underwear, a blanket barely covering your sleeping frame. Your hair is a little messy, and your mouth slightly open. The mere sight wakes him a little bit more, and a soft smile appears on his features as he puts the pieces together: you probably fell asleep waiting for him. 
There’s a pang of regret in his chest when he realizes that though, because you waited up for him, and he was late again. He didn’t want you to feel like he was taking you for granted. He never would. 
He knelt next to the couch, gently tracing the back of his hand over your cheek. You didn’t react at all, and he smiled softly, watching your sleeping face. He was contemplating what to do. Wake you up? Carry you to your shared bed? Or- 
His hand trailed lower from your cheek to your neck, over your shirt. Your body had the slightest reactions, small twitches of your muscles, the soft skin of your arms now covered in goosebumps as his ministrations made your hair stand up straight. The mere thought of what was to come made him feel shivers as well. He’s never done this. 
Surely, you two had talked about this before, there was just never a moment where it seemed right; except for now. Now would be perfect. It would take away some of his stress, he would feel so much better, he could have some of the relief he’d been craving ever since he started his trip back home for the day. He could enjoy some closeness to you, intimacy, even. 
He takes off his glasses and puts them on the side table, then kneels down in front of you on the couch. His movements are slow and deliberate, and he’s as quiet as he can be. His hand rests on your knee, gently spreading your legs apart just a little. The movement makes the blanket slide completely off of your body, and the loss of that little extra warmth and weight makes you shift again. 
It’s only when your body stills again, that Nanami realizes he’s been holding his breath in anticipation. He breathes out, finally, and lowers his face to your thigh, nuzzling the soft flesh. Breathing in again he inhales your scent, the lingering fragrance of your shower gel and the perfume you wore throughout the day, and just the smell of you, a scent that means home to him. 
He places soft kisses to your inner thigh, inching higher and higher as he feels your body react ever so slightly again: muscles tensing just a little before relaxing again, your breathing hitching a bit, before it goes back to the rhythmic deep breaths of sleep. 
His other hand is on your other thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin as he inches higher there as well, towards your hip, where the soft fabric of your panties rests. He can’t resist playing some with the fabric, slipping his fingers underneath and stretching it out, before letting it return to its original position slowly, not wanting to wake you up with the slap of your elastic waistband. 
You stir, mumbling something so quietly he can barely distinguish it. But he’s sure that he’s heard something that at the very least resembles his name. He looks up at you, head cocked to the side, studying you carefully before concluding that you are still asleep. Maybe you somehow noticed his presence was nearby, even while sleeping, the way you would cling to him when he slips into your shared bed when you’re already asleep in there. Maybe you were dreaming about him. He hoped you were- it would make this an even more pleasurable experience for the both of you. 
The way you mumbled his name got him more riled up though, and he feels himself losing his patience just a little. The next time he slides his fingers underneath the fabric of your panties, it’s closer to your core, and he hears your breath hitch ever so slightly once more. He stretches and flexes his fingers, just enough to finally touch you where he really wants to, pulling back just a little to study your face. No reaction, though he can feel your body is reacting in some way.
He puts his mouth back to your thigh, kisses trailing upwards again, until his lips reach the fabric that’s separating him from where he wants to be most. He’s quick to pull your panties to the side now, a little more careless now that hunger is taking over, and presses a kiss to your lower lips. 
He wishes he could stay in this moment for a while longer, but his patience is running too thin now, and instincts take over. In no time, his lips and tongue are all over you, tentative, hesitant at first, trying to be careful and mindful about your sleeping state, but getting more confident and adding more pressure with each hungry lick, every eager kiss he places. 
He barely registers your quiet, sleepy moans and whimpers over the sounds he’s making, wet and sticky, skin on skin. He’s moaning as well, just too absorbed by the taste and feel of you. How he’s missed this. How he’s missed you. He can feel his cock straining in his pants, but decides to ignore it for now. You are his sole focus, the only thing that should be on his mind now. 
“Ah- Kento..” 
Your voice is sleepy and a little confused when his lips latch onto your clit, his tongue flicking over it repeatedly. You can barely finish saying his name before another moan escapes your lips. He smiles onto your skin, not letting up on any of his ministrations as you blink sleepily, realizing that your dreams weren’t that unrealistic after all. 
His gaze meets yours for a while and he pauses briefly: a silent check-in. Is this still okay? You look back at him and say nothing, instead lifting one of your hands slowly, putting it on his head, your fingers tangling in his hair. You don’t need words to tell him what you want, and he picks up again immediately, lapping at your folds as if it were the last meal he’d ever eat. You nearly close your legs at the sensation, but his free hand holds your legs open, fingertips digging into your thighs. 
You can’t resist moving your hips just a bit, your body reacting purely on instinct while the last bits of sleep eb away from your hazy brain, the thick fog of sleep just getting replaced by a different kind of mist. Nanami lets you move against his mouth freely, flattening his tongue for more contact, and you can’t do anything but buck your hips and whimper as you feel a familiar buildup, a knot tying right behind your navel. 
“Don’t stop”, you manage to pant out, quieter and more out of breath than you had hoped, but Nanami hears it nonetheless, humming against your core in acknowledgement. He focuses his attention back to your clit, sucking harshly as you cry out his name a little louder this time. You are so close when he flicks his tongue over your sensitive bud over and over. Your back arches off of the couch and your grip on his hair tightens as your climax washes over you like a sudden wave, pulling you under and making you lose yourself in pleasure. 
Nanami doesn’t stop just there, instead just slows down his motions while you ride out your orgasm. You let go of his hair and let yourself sink back into the couch, breathing heavily as your eyes start adjusting to the dim lighting in your living room. He leans back after a final, soft kiss to your clit, making your legs twitch. His lips and chin are glistening from your release and the light makes him look almost ethereal. You sigh contently, smiling as you finally make proper eye contact. He smiles back at you, his eyes full of love. 
“Welcome home, Kento” 
Tumblr media
190 notes · View notes
scientia-rex · 10 months ago
Text
Best Things I Have Bought
I'm not sure how successful I will be in remembering all of it, but I'll try. These have all been game-changers for me, in a variety of ways. If teen me had had access to all of these, I would have been a vastly happier person.
This one is long, so I'll put in a cut.
-outlet timers. Not having to go around and manually turn off lamps at bedtime? Amazing. I bought these but you can and should get some that have a grounded outlet with three prongs so you can attach good extension cords to them.
-famotidine. aka Pepcid, it's the safest option I currently know of for managing acid reflux. I get nauseated when I get acid reflux, so this is a necessity for me.
-T-Gel shampoo. The only one that keeps my husband's insane dandruff under control. Coal tar shampoos smell peculiar, but are totally worth it if they work. For my hair, I like anti-dandruff conditioner--I apply it to my scalp and my other conditioners to the length of my hair. After bleaching my hair, I use Olaplex 3 to prevent more severe damage; the difference is very noticeable.
-white vinegar for a laundry rinse. I get horrendous contact dermatitis and adding this in the "fabric softener" cup in my washer keeps things from making my skin burn.
-on a similar note, all Oxy laundry booster. Doesn't make my skin burn but does make stains and smells noticeably better than detergent alone.
-Aquaphor. If you have eczema, nothing helps like Aquaphor, unless it's hydrocortisone ointment (the same white petrolatum base as Aquaphor but with hydrocortisone) or a prescribed steroid.
-Bissell Stomp 'N' Go pads. I have stomped. The stain goes.
-Prune puree. A packet a day keeps the chronic constipation at bay. Less volume to consume than prune juice and, in my opinion, slightly more palatable.
-Chinotto is a bitters-based beverage that I discovered by accident really helps my chronic nausea. I've tried other brands, and San Pellegrino is definitely my favorite. Tastes weird at first, but when heavy-duty ginger ale doesn't ease it, Chinotto can. And when that doesn't work, I have Zofran (ondansetron) my doctor prescribed me for the nausea I get with migraines, and that's an effective anti-nausea agent for more than just migraines.
-"You Just Need to Lose Weight (And 19 Others Myths About Fat People)" by Aubrey Gordon.
-rolling laundry cart. Doesn't have to be this one but if you CAN roll your laundry to and fro from the machines, do it.
-"Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men" by Lundy Bancroft. If you Google, you can usually find a free pdf floating around.
-"The Vagina Bible," by Dr. Jen Gunter.
-satin scrunchies. Wet Brush. Terry cloth lined shower cap. AOA terry cloth hair turban (way, way better than similar ones from drugstore).
-stretchy work pants.
-bra liners. For large-chested people who tend to get sweaty underboob, this is a life-saver.
-Goo Gone.
-Dr. Scholls medicated foot powder and the Earth Therapeutics tea tree oil foot spray. The foot powder works for super long days and the spray for lighter days.
-Reflective heat pad. I use this on my car seat in the winter and I am so happy for that every single chilly morning. I've repurchased it... once or twice? now.
-Retin-A. I used to use Differin, which is adapalene, the most potent retinoid available over the counter, but the switch to prescription-only Retin-A has been very noticeable. Decreased wrinkles, clearer skin. More inclined to flake and burn but it's worth it for me.
-Red LED therapy. Near-infrared stimulates collagen production in the skin. The only other thing that really does that is retinoids. I bought the Omnilux mask, which is certainly high-end, but HotandFlashy (a YouTube content creator) did a great comparison of different masks available by specs and this was the best at the time. The difference is noticeable within days. I've tried other, lower-powered masks, but what made me make the jump to high-end was that I got the Dennis Gross red LED eye mask for crows' feet off eBay and I was like "holy shit, this is better." And Omnilux is better still. It makes sense, since they were the OG of the models that have been in dermatology clinics for a couple of decades now.
-AOA foundation has been at least as good at my TooFaced foundation, and it's like 1-2 bucks instead of 40. There are light, medium, and deep shades, each on different pages; I'm linking to light because that's what I use. The lightest shade works for me, and I'm basically translucent.
-AOA VitaGlow tinted moisturizer is absolutely my go-to for lighter coverage days.
-AOA PawPaw blending sponges. Best out there and also the cheapest.
-(do not buy any of the AOA eyeshadows. Total waste of time, zero pigment. I've tried repeatedly and they're just garbage. The highlights are generally fine though.)
-Direct acid foot peels. The calluses come off. Just don't do it when you have ANY open wound on the feet, because it's acid and will sting like hell.
-blendercleanser solid cleanser for blending sponges and brushes. Actually a) gets them clean and b) rinses out.
-PureWine wine wands. I let these puppies sit for three minutes in a glass and suddenly I can drink red wine without migraines or hangovers. Fucking miraculous.
-Dustbuster. Holy shit it's amazing for ADHD peeps. Small thing bugging you? Can't get yourself to bust out the "real" vacuum? USE THIS.
-Crocs. Don't @ me. I wear a black pair around the house and for garden chores and they make my feet happy. Salonpas patches and/or BenGay for a topical when you're sore--topicals are great pain relief.
-Vibrating neck pillow. Don't need it right now? Wait until your next head cold. Vibration clears sinuses.
-PooPourri. I love not having to smell poop. This, and similar products, work pretty well by trapping scent particles in the oil layer instead of letting them evaporate into the air.
-Electric snow thrower. I can't manage a large, heavy snow blower and I don't want to deal with a gas engine. This little guy helped me clear my large driveway in 3-4 hours instead of 12.
-The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark, by Carl Sagan.
-Handheld home IPL for hair removal. I ordered this exact one and I like it. You can get these on eBay or Amazon for cheaper sometimes; just make sure you PROTECT YOUR EYES during flashes. Targets pigment in the hair bulb so lighter skin and darker hair work better, and deeper skin tones may burn.
-Lanolin chapstick. Makes all other chapsticks I've used look like garbage.
-Steam eye masks. ShopMissA sells these and you can find them on a lot sites; shouldn't cost more than about a dollar per mask. I ended up buying an electric eye mask because I wanted to treat my dry eye and that just felt more environmentally responsible, but I love falling asleep with these on and I can't do that with my plug-in mask.
I think this is where I'll leave it--I've gone back quite a ways in my shopping history across multiple sites and thought about my daily routines--but if any of these problems torture you, these are my suggestions.
228 notes · View notes
andhumanslovedstories · 1 year ago
Note
any advice for nursing students/new nurses?
When you buy a stethoscope, get it engraved with your name, I literally cannot tell you how much that has saved my ass. All stethoscopes look the exact same, even if you think you got a unique looking one, and they're super easy to lose, and they're a hundred plus bucks. engraved!!
There's literally so many acronyms, and everyone assumes the acronyms they know are universal, and no one is correct. Get comfortable with the phrase "remind me what [x] stands for" when someone rattles off a string of letters you don't recognize. (sometimes the person talking to you doesn't know either! whoops!!)
Ask questions all the time actually. This is the ideal time to do so and everyone will be scared if you don't.
For straight cathing patients, you can usually get a lidocaine gel that numbs the urethra, which helps with discomfort. Also for straight cathing patients, if they have a vagina, make sure you visualize the urethra before you start the whole process. You don't want to have to find it later when you're sterile and can't touch anything.
If you've never used a bed pan, it is surprisingly much harder than you would expect. familiarize yourself with them before you have to place one for the first time.
At the end of every shift, find one thing you can point at that you did and were proud of. You can be proud of helping a patient get up and walk. You can be proud that your patient's pain never got above a 4. You can be proud that you helped out another nurse's patients while they were dealing with an admit. You can be proud that you didn't get visibly mad at a patient who was screaming at you. You can be proud that you got to the end of the shift and everyone is alive. You can be proud that you realized you were in over your head and called for help. Find something each shift to be proud of, and the corollary to that is behave in ways that make it easier to be proud of yourself when you look back at the way you spent your shift
get good shoes.
prioritize sleep.
meal prep
pick a few things about yourself that are harmless, not at all intimate small talk. I also have a few fun facts about myself that I love to talk about but don't overstep any boundaries (stuff like that I'm from Virginia, that I'm part of float pool so I can tell you how this room compares to others in the hospital, I have dyed hair and people love talking about that). Draw boundaries to be personable but not inappropriate. Genuinely, practice small talk. You have small talk when things are going fine so you can have Big Talk when someone's breaking down crying or starts screaming in the hallway or wants to leave against medical advice or is furious that their visitors are gonna get searched on the way in. Build rapport before you need rapport.
Sort of similar to the last one, I try to care very deeply about my patients on shift and then forget about them when I go home. I debrief with my mom or Cyrus or my journal, and then I take a shower. The shower is my mental reset time. I tuck my nursona away and emerge as just some dipshit in a towel. Find whatever ritual helps you end your shift.
there are many ways to be a good nurse. sometimes you need a hardass. sometimes you need a cheerleader. sometimes you need a goofball. sometimes you need someone who doesn't chit chat but will always get your teeth brushed, your hands washed, and your hair braided before breakfast can even get to the floor, no matter how shortstaffed the floor is. sometimes you need someone who will talk to you at three in the morning about what the dying process is like. it is impossible to be all things to all patients. as a new nurse, you start by focusing on basic minimal competency, but pay attention to what parts of the job energize you, what parts come easy to you, and lean into those. get competent at the things you are bad at, get passionate about the things you are good at, and you'll have a better chance of building a nursing practice that you can keep up with the shit times start.
the shit times can start anytime but oooh boy do they tend to arrive at your six month mark.
349 notes · View notes
shina913 · 2 years ago
Text
The Boyfriend Experience | MYG
Tumblr media
The Boyfriend Experience: Yoongi
Tumblr media
The BFE: Masterlist
Tumblr media
Pairing: Escort!Yoongi x Divorcee Fem!Reader
Rating: M🔞
Genre: sex!workAU; strangers to ? ; angst; smut;
Warnings: alcohol consumption; cussing; mentions of antidepressant; gynecology; mentions of divorce; bits of self-pity and low-self-esteem; legal sex work (in this AU); fingering; dirty talk; clit play; protected penetrative sex; aftercare
Word count: ~8.2k words
Summary: 💬 When I saw my gynecologist recently after not having sex for a year, she told me, ‘You need to be having sex.’ She told me that my vagina was 'drying up.’ Sex, in and of itself and for its own sake, is also important for a woman’s physical health. 
A/N: Little disclaimer: the doctor's office part is a spin on this one scene from Sex and the City. I found out that this is a legitimate condition 🥴 I don't really go into detail about it but I also don't mean to offend anyone who is actually suffering from this condition so I apologize! It's only a small part of the plot.
A/N: Thank you to @/itdoesntmatterwhy and @/purplewhalewrites for reading through this and for your super helpful suggestions to get this installment going. It's been kind of a struggle to get the storyline straight for this one so...I hope you all like how this Yoongi turned out. Enjoy! 😘
Tumblr media
You are hypnotized by the bubbles in your champagne. You watch the tiny orbs floating and fizzling up to the surface…much like many of the realities you’d encountered in recent days.
Three days ago, you were at a doctor’s appointment for your annual exam. You’d been experiencing some discomfort down in your lady parts.
After making her assessment, the doctor prompts you to sit up on the exam table. You straighten your posture, adjust the hospital gown behind your shoulder, smooth the paper blanket over your lap, and anticipate her professional advice.
As she scribbles on her prescription pad, she says, “I’m prescribing you an antidepressant.”
“I-I’m sorry…I’m confused. An antidepressant? B-but I don’t think that—“
She looked up from her dark-framed glasses. “Oh, it’s not for you.” Then she cocks her eyebrow and gestures below your waist. “It’s for your vagina.”
“Uhm…okay, now I’m even more confused.” It was the understatement of the century.
“The discomfort you’re feeling is due to some dryness,” she begins to explain. “I’m also prescribing a topical gel with some hormones to help with lubrication.”
“Lubrication?” You ask incredulously.
“Yes,” she smiled politely. “I would recommend abstaining from any sexual activity for about 24-48 hours to allow the gel to work its magic but after that, you can get right back on that pony!”
“Well, abstaining shouldn’t be a problem then. I’ve been sexually in-active for a while, so what’s another two days?” You joked.
Your doctor’s eyebrows furrowed. “You haven’t had sex in–how long?”
You’d already gone through this line of questioning from the pre-assessment intake that her assistant had done before your doctor entered the room. Didn’t she check your records?
She looked at her laptop and scrolled up. “A year?”
“Yes…give or take,” you replied quietly.
In actuality, it was a little bit longer than that. It’s been over a year since you and your ex-husband, Jihoon, separated and began divorce proceedings. Months before he moved out, intimacy was already scarce, bordering on nonexistent.
The doctor’s mouth falls open at your confirmation. “Oh, honey…” She pulled her glasses off.
You and Dr. Cabrera have known each other for years. You both spoke freely and casually when the situation called for it.
“You need to be having sex. And no, it doesn’t need to be with an actual dick. There are other ways, too.” Her lips thinned into a tight line as she gave you a knowing look.
You roll your eyes at her. “Don’t you think I know that, Mina? It’s just that I haven’t been motivated to date…” Much less touch myself. “Ever since Jihoon—“
“Ah, fuck him!” She waved you off. “Girl, you need some regular activity in your vaj, okay? And not just for pleasure but for your health!”
She goes on to lecture you more about vaginal health and how it goes hand-in-hand with sexual health. If your ex was getting all the sex he could elsewhere, there was no logical reason to be depriving yourself.
“You need constant stimulation! That’s why your coochie is depressed!”
Another reason to be depressed? Receiving a written notification from the courts this morning, telling you that you and Jihoon were legally divorced now. It was a tough reality to face. For the longest time, you were both unhappy. Breaking up was a foregone conclusion and yet–seeing it written on paper, in bold letters, still felt like a swift kick in the lady balls.
“What are you celebrating?” You are snapped back to reality by a voice.
“Hm?” You were so lost in thought, you had no idea how long you’d been staring at your champagne flute.
You turn your head to find a man, standing about two feet away, his elbow resting on the back of one of the bar stools next to you. His hair was long, ending just a couple of inches below his earlobes; it was loosely brushed back, one side tucked behind his ear while the other had a few strands falling right above his eyebrows.
He wore a dark, tailored suit–formal, understated elegance but with a hint of approachability since he’d skipped wearing a tie. Despite that, he still looked like a million bucks.
The lounge was nearly empty as the night waned. A handful of customers were still meandering about, sitting in the plush tables and chairs situated by the wall.
Even though you were the only one seated at the bar, you weren’t sure whether he was addressing you.
“Are you talking to me?”
He kept his gaze on you. “I am,” he smiled softly. He then gestured to the chair next to you. “May I?”
“S-sure.” With another smile, he saunters over and settles into the seat. He points to your drink again. “So, one usually orders champagne to celebrate something, right?”
“Oh, this?” You lift your glass and then shake your head. “I’m not sure if I would exactly categorize tonight as a ‘celebration’.”
The corner of his mouth quirks in a half-smile. “Maybe you should have ordered a whisky instead?”
You laughed wryly at his comment then thought, maybe you should have–especially after the week that you had.
He calls the bartender over. They smile and make small talk as if they’d known each other for years.
You frequented this lounge at least twice a month in the last six or seven months after your girlfriends dragged you out to dinner here once. Eventually, you’d gone out on your own to have a cocktail or two, whenever the kids were with their dad for the weekend.
Coming to L’Atelier beat drinking at home on your own. You didn’t socialize much on your nights out but at least you were drinking at a nice place. It was a small comfort and you just wanted to unwind after busy weekdays shuttling your children around.
This was the first time anybody had actually approached you–apart from the bartender and the occasional ‘Is this seat taken’ question from random men trying to hit on women who sat next to you.
After this man places his drink order, he turns his attention back to you.
“Do you come here often?” Your question sounded like a terrible cliche but it was the best you could muster. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”
The bartender clears their throat and presents the man with his drink.
He thanks the bartender before he answers, “Yes, I’m here pretty regularly,” he smiled enigmatically. “Maybe you just haven’t noticed me.”
Haven’t noticed him? Nonsense! You most definitely would have noticed him if he walked into a room. Was your sad vagina making you blind, too?
“I’ve seen you once or twice, though,” he says before taking a sip of the amber liquid from his glass, his eyes never leaving you.
“Oh?” You ask nervously.
“Yeah. I come here often for…business meetings,” he rationalizes. “Have you been offered a seat at the chef’s table yet?”
You frowned in confusion. After coming to this place many times before, this was the first time you’d ever heard of an option to have a seat at the chef’s table.
“I don’t think I have. Sounds exclusive,” you remarked.
“It is but I know the owner and I can bring you in as a guest.” After a beat, he asks, “Would you like to take advantage of it?”
Tempting as it was, you cross your legs and decline politely. “That’s alright. I don’t want to put you out.”
“You’re not,” he says. “I’d be happy to show you what offerings the restaurant has. The chef always has something that will satisfy any appetite.”
You stopped to consider your answer. Was he trying to pick you up or were you trying to read too much into an innocent offer?
You gulped your nervousness down your throat. “No, it’s not that. I’m, uh…” You scrambled to think of an answer. How could you tell this man that you hadn’t gone out on a date in a long time and that you were rusty when it came to settings like this so you’d prefer not to embarrass yourself.
His expression suddenly shifts to a look of realization. “S-sorry, I’m not trying to be a creeper. If you're with someone or just want to be alone–”
You shook your head and answer meekly. “No, no. I’m here by myself.” Then, you decide you’d dare to take a chance. What was the harm in enjoying a drink with someone?
“I don’t mind the company, either.”
To quell any further awkwardness, he introduces himself. “I’m Yoongi, by the way.”
After giving him your name, you can't help but notice that your breath hitches as he shakes your hand firmly. "Pleasure to meet you.”
“Please! The pleasure is all mine,” he says with a smile, his hold still lingering on your skin.
******
It was hard to pinpoint what exactly made him attractive to you but you narrowed it down to a combination of his looks, personality, and confidence–the confidence, especially! And no, it wasn’t the type of confidence that was synonymous with arrogance or cockiness.
It was the quiet self-assurance that he exuded, where his ego took a backseat and you took center stage.
It was a refreshing experience since the man you were married to for years was very much into asserting his masculinity, especially when you first started dating. Admittedly, you’d found that attractive at one point in your life.
That was half of Yoongi’s charm. The other half of it was the element of seduction. He knew and understood how seduction worked.
In the short amount of time that he spent with you, it seemed that the trick lay in small things: his cologne, outfit, laughter, eye contact, and subtle touches–his knees brushing against yours as he shifted in his seat…they all added up.
You don’t recall Jihoon putting that much effort into your relationship, much less coaxing your own self-esteem to the forefront. You chalked it up to the fact that you were both so young and had been together for a long time. You didn’t have many points of comparison, relationship-wise.
“You seem like a really great person,” he says. “Why are you out here by yourself?”
You eventually relay that you’d come here to enjoy some ‘me-time’.
“Interesting,” he says. “And what do you typically do when you’re not alone?”
“Well, I have a day job and children who keep me busy.”
“Oh, you have children?”
“Yes,” you reply. “Two boys–currently with their dad. It’s his weekend.” You try but fail to hide the bitterness behind your tone. The tight smile you gave Yoongi was a dead giveaway, too.
You were fully expecting him to pepper you with questions, questions that you weren’t quite ready to hash out with a stranger.
“I see.” His tone had a finality to it, sensing your apprehension about expanding on your recent divorce.
You tilt your head back and down the last drops of your drink, thankful that he decides not to pry.
“Last call!” The bartender announces to the whole room before turning to you. “Can I get you anything else, miss?”
You shook your head in response and start to dig for your credit card to settle your tab. When they turn to Yoongi, who also declines any more drinks, he makes a request instead. “Junho-ssi, can you put her tab on mine?”
“Oh gosh–no, please–”
“I insist!” He hands his credit card to the bartender, effectively ending your protests.
******
You, along with the last few customers from the restaurant, walk out through the expansive foyer and toward the main exit. The restaurant staff begins to shut the lights off but leaves the lounge illuminated. You’d never been around for closing time so you found the whole scene novel.
A tall, handsome man dressed in a bespoke suit struts out of the backroom, which you assumed was the office. You’d seen him before, in passing. One of your girlfriends pointed out that he owned the place.
You part ways with Yoongi when the owner stops to greet him.
What was the owner’s name again?
“Jin-hyung,” Yoongi greets him in return, answering your unspoken question. They share a friendly hug and exchange pleasantries.
“I thought you left hours ago?“ Jin asks him.
“I was on my way out but I decided to hang around the lounge for a bit.”
Not wanting to linger, you walk out to the front of the restaurant to call yourself a rideshare. While you wait, you think about how this evening turned out to be a pleasant surprise to you. You walked into the bar, thinking you’d have a few drinks, and wallow in self-pity for a bit before you returned home to slip into your pajamas and fall asleep while a Beat Bobby Flay marathon plays in the background.
“Did you drive here?”
Your thoughts are interrupted by Yoongi, who was now standing next to you.
“Nah, I knew I was drinking so I just took a car over here.”
You shifted nervously. You hardly thought of yourself as ‘confident’ and it’s been a long time since you’ve been in the dating scene. You were out of practice after all these years but how else did you expect to jumpstart your sex life?
Besides, it’s been well over 72 hours since your gynecological treatment. By doctor’s orders–you should be good to go.
You found yourself speaking the words before you thought through them clearly. “I don’t know if you have any plans tonight but would you like to come over and have a few more drinks?”
******
Once you and Yoongi walked into your home, all that confidence remained at your doorstep and never followed you past the threshold.
Luckily, you found an unopened bottle of vintage red in your kitchen, which you offered to him.
After a few sips in, you clear your throat. “Listen, I have a confession to make.”
He shifted in his seat, prompting you to continue. “What’s that?”
“I…I don’t…do this kind of thing often. You know, bring men home. I hope that you don’t think ill of me for stringing you along like this.”
He smiled, looking calm and not at all disappointed. “And why would I think that?”
Not knowing why he couldn’t see the obvious answer, you shrug. “I realize that I hadn’t thought this through. I don’t want you to think that I’m reckless or easy.”
“Why are you apologizing? It’s not like you’ve offended me.” His tone remained even and his expression was soft.
“I didn’t know if you were expecting to get laid or whatever,” you say anxiously.
“When a woman invites me back to her place, I never expect anything to happen. There’s always the hope but I’m honestly content with whatever she wants to do.”
You scoffed in disbelief. “You’re telling me that men don’t expect sex all the time?”
“I’m not like other men, unfortunately,” he answers. “I have a slightly different perspective, especially in my line of work.”
Your brows knit in curiosity. You’d come to realize that you hadn’t asked what exactly he did for work. You’d been too enraptured with his charm, happily talking about yourself while he listened to every word you said.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but what do you do for work?”
“I’m an escort,” he says matter-of-factly.
If memory serves, that meant– “Oh my god. Oh my god…” Your scalp prickles immediately. Setting your glass down on the coffee table, you abruptly get up from your seat and start to pace around your living room. “W-why didn’t you tell me that right away? Why did–”
“I’m sorry. Our conversation was going so well earlier that I didn’t feel the need to slip it in. I didn’t think you’d invite me over.”
“Wait! Do I have to pay you? Is this…are you going to charge me for this?” You stammered in a panic.
His voice was soft and reassuring. "Relax. When I approached you, I thought you were a client - that's why I asked if you'd been offered the chef's table. It's kind of like the secret password," he reveals. "But since it didn't seem like you knew anything about it, I made the conscious decision to spend time with you. So, to answer your question: no, I am not charging you. I'm here because I want to be here.”
You breathe a small sigh of relief. Your head was spinning. A ‘secret password’? Was there a hidden brothel at the restaurant? You had so many questions!
“I understand that this is overwhelming and I don’t mean to freak you out any further. If I’m making you uncomfortable, just say the word and I’ll leave. ” He raised his hands up, further conveying his point. “No harm done.”
He stood up and collected his jacket which was neatly draped over the couch cushion.
Your mind was still racing. What would it mean if you asked him to stay? He says that he’s not charging you but was it enough that you’d take his word for it?
You stop your pacing and turn to look at him.
Sure, you could make him leave and forget that this ever happened. Nobody has to know, nobody needs to know.
…Exactly. Nobody needs to know.
“Wait,” you answer softly. “Could you stay a little longer?”
******
It took a few minutes of some awkward, borderline-invasive questions about his job. You were understandably curious and he was a very patient interview subject. He kept most details vague–presumably, to keep some ‘trade secrets’ under wraps–he was fairly open about his work.
You learned that there was a specific app where his clients can book him and that he often stops by the restaurant, which had a secret lounge, for discreet meet-ups.
“So, you’re saying it’s not just all sex all the time for you?”
He threw his head back in laughter. “It’s not. Sometimes, some clients just want to talk–just like we’re doing now. That’s what our back room is for.”
“Right, but what are the chances that you don’t, I don’t know, get it in before the end of your date?”
He lets out another chuckle. “This may be hard to believe but there are times when some of my dates just want someone to keep them company. And yes, there are times when all they want is physical contact the whole time we’re together.”
“Huh…okay.” You internally fan yourself. “You can tell me to stop if I’m being annoying!”
He shook his head. “Not at all. Normally, I just talk to the other guys I work with since we all have to be discreet. So, talking to you about it feels liberating…on a different level. By the way, I love this red,” he comments at the wine.
You smile at his compliment before sinking into the couch cushions–internalizing this brand-new perspective. You marveled at the concept, like an awakening of sorts.
Hearing about his experiences and different approaches to each of his relationships with his clients fascinated you. On the other hand, it also made you think about how much you missed out on when you were younger.
He notices that you’ve fallen silent. “What are you thinking?”
“Just how little I know about relationships and…sex.” You sighed softly.
“What do you mean?”
You thought about how quickly that year passed, focusing on distracting yourself with work, and your kids so you wouldn’t have to think about how Jihoon was living his best life, with a newer, younger partner.
You didn’t have time for that. You had your babies to take care of. You had to stay focused for them!
Shaking your head, you say, “I don’t know. I guess I find myself being unreasonably envious of these women whom I’ve never met.”
“And why is that?”
“I’m envious at how they’re able to explore their sexuality without…being judged or looked down on. Like, I’m definitely not in my 20s anymore, you know? The concept of dating or even going out to get a drink doesn’t seem appropriate for someone like me.”
“Someone like you? You mean a woman?”
“Someone who has a full plate,” you counter.
“Is it full, though?” He asks skeptically.
You scoffed. “Well, yes! I have my job, then my kids—“
“But your kids aren’t here. You just said that they’re spending the weekend at their dad’s.”
“Right. Still, I don’t know if I have the time—“
“I’m sure you can make time now that you and your ex have joint custody. Don’t you think he enjoys himself when you have your kids while he has his own me-time?”
“Yes, but he’s a man. It’s different for women.”
“Surely you still have desires or fantasies? There’s no gender or age limit for that.”
You shrugged. “Isn’t there? Sometimes, I feel like I’m past it.”
He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “What do you mean to say, ‘you’re past it’? You don’t like sex anymore?”
His incredulity stings you a bit, maybe because he seemed young and had sex with several people often. “It’s possible! And you know what, maybe it’s just been too long for me and you know, they always say, you either use it or lose it.”
Yoongi stares at you, mouth agog, and utterly dumbfounded by your ridiculous theory.
“Can you do me a favor and humor me, just a little? I think that’s only fair, right?” After your interrogation, it did seem like a fair exchange so you nod your head, prompting him to continue.
“Tell me what you loved about sex. It could be the lead-up to it, a specific action, or the experience as a whole. What is it?”
You paused at his question. Your lips puckered as you thought about your answer. After a few more seconds, you finally answer, “Weirdly, it doesn���t have anything to do with any kind of penetration.”
He laughed so hard his shoulders vibrated. “I thought penetration was everyone’s favorite part?”
You tutted. “Nuh-uh. Not me.”
He eyed you quietly while he awaits your answer. “I’m at the edge of my seat here,” he chuckled.
You laughed in return. “Okay, okay. It’s kissing.”
His lips and eyebrows quirked in curiosity. “Interesting choice. Doesn’t ‘kissing’ still technically involve some kind of penetration?”
“I guess,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at the same time. “But to me, kissing means more than just getting it in.” You pause again to think of the correct metaphor. “It’s like the prologue and the epilogue to sex.”
His eyes flickered with renewed interest while you elaborated. “You know, when you like someone or find them attractive enough, you imagine what it’s like to kiss them, right? The thought consumes you until you finally get that opportunity to do it.”
He continued to regard you intently, hanging onto your every word. “You start off feeling and tasting…and then you slowly melt into it. Your hands start to explore, clearly wanting more of that person.” You smiled wistfully, “One of my favorite things to do is finding out how long I could keep my mouth sealed to my partner’s while we undress each other. And then the thrill of breaking that kiss–for just a few moments–so you could strip that last piece of clothing off them–then you get right back into it.”
You watched his chest rise and fall, his gaze still hot on you.
“After all is said and done–after you both ride out your highs and your bodies are trembling from intense pleasure, your only source of calm and comfort is falling into those kisses again.” When you finish, you press your lips into a hard line and stare back at him.
“Wow,” he choked out after a few beats.
You wave your hands dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. I know it sounds crazy and delusional,” you scoffed.
He disagreed. “On the contrary, I think that you make a very compelling argument for kissing.”
You sighed ruefully, “It was just something that my ex and I stopped doing many years ago. I felt like that was the beginning of the end.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he remarked sincerely.
“Yeah, me too.”
You looked away to take another sip of your drink while his gaze remained on you. When you turn your attention back to him, he asks, “I’d like to do that for you, if you’ll let me.”
You cocked your eyebrow in suspicion. “Do what?”
“I want to give you that feeling again.”
You frowned in confusion. “What feeling?”
“The feeling you get from a kiss.”
Your eyes bulged in amusement before laughing. “What? That was like, some desperate wish from a sad lady.”
“If that’s how you want to see it, fine. But I am here, sincerely asking if I could kiss you.”
“Oh my god, Yoongi–” Your forehead creased, trying to make out whether he was for real or just pulling your leg.
“I’m not bullshitting you, I swear. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Then you must be drunk,” you countered.
“Not that drunk,” he demurred. “I am still very much coherent.”
You continued to eye him skeptically for a few seconds.
“It’s a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question. If you say ‘no’, then we’ll move on from this subject and continue on with our night. And I think I’ve made it deliberately clear that I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable at all,” he reassured you.
“I…” The answer was at the tip of your tongue. However, before you say anything else that you feel might be too impulsive, you feel the need to step away to cool off.
“Oh, look at that!” You remark at the empty bottle of wine and reach for it. “I’ll be right back with another. Red, right?“ You hastily make your way back into the kitchen, not waiting for his answer.
******
After retrieving a bottle of pinot grigio from the fridge, you puff your flushed cheeks out and fan yourself. It was definitely the alcohol…coupled with the fact that Yoongi’s presence was lowering your inhibitions further.
All that bullshit you spewed about not having the desire? Being ‘past’ sex? Right. You internally smack yourself.
He wasn’t charging you anyway, what was the harm in a little taste? The problem was what could happen after the fact. What if you turned out to be insatiable? Could your alimony checks pay for these meetings?
“Shut up, this is crazy!” you mutter to yourself.
And yet, even as you made your way into the kitchen, you were already feeling that familiar tingle in the pit of your stomach. A feeling you thought was long gone, walking out the door along with your ex.
You put the bottle of wine down and center yourself, splaying your fingers onto the counter then lean on it for support.
You try desperately to calm your fluttering pulse.
“Hey.”
You turn your head around to see him entering the kitchen.
Shit, were you taking too long?
“I thought you might need this.” He held up the corkscrew in his hand and then slowly advanced toward you.
You laughed. “Oh…uh…silly me!”
“I got worried so I thought I might check in on you to make sure that you were okay.”
You turn around and attempted to take a step but your knees felt like jelly. So instead, you lean your back against the counter. “I’m fine,” you try to say as evenly as possible. “Also, seems I’m all out of red wine and this is the only one I have left.” You gestured at the bottle on the counter.
Seeing your apprehension in serving it, he asks, “Do you like it?”
Your eyes bulged at his question.
“The wine. Do you like it?” he clarifies.
“I do.”
He gives a small nod. “Well if you like it, I’m sure I’ll like it, too.”
“You said earlier that you preferred to drink red. Do you always adjust your preferences based on whatever your date likes?”
“Mm…so we’re on a date?”
You giggle nervously at your presumptuousness then start blubbering. “I mean–I’m just saying.”
“It’s just a preference,” He interjects cooly. “...but I generally like to keep an open mind about things. I’m not the type who limits myself.”
“Because ‘limits’ are an occupational hazard for you?”
“I may not limit myself but knowing my clients’ limits are helpful for me. I want to know what they want; want to know how much I can give it to them…until they tell me to stop.”
“And how often do they say ‘stop’?” Your question was barely a whisper.
“All the time, actually. Except…” he hissed through his teeth, “…it usually comes after the word, ‘don’t’,” he punctuated.
Your lips seal tightly as if bracing yourself. At this point, you’d made up your mind and wanted to know what it would be like to be intimate with him.
But you still haven’t said the words.
He smiles and takes a few more steps, closing the gap considerably but still leaving room for you to push away from him if you want to. At this point, you didn’t want to push him off but instead felt a visceral need to pull him closer.
He inhaled deeply, like he could smell the want thrumming from your body.
He swallows, leaning in so his face is in your hair. The sound of his breaths sets your body alight…this would be the moment you’d give in to your impulses.
He’d pressed himself against you and you didn’t stop him. You shift, knowingly brushing your thigh against his crotch, his cock stiffening at the contact. He bit into his lips in an effort to suppress a growl but fails at it.
Your skin is hot to the touch and your heart feels as if it’s thumping out of your chest. With his lips still narrowed into a hard line, you lock eyes with him, and he detects that dormant lust lingering in their depths. You gulp and drop your gaze to his lips. Your bodies, now pressed against each other; mind racing, you continue to stare at his mouth. You want to taste him.
“I want you.” His words reverb around the room like an echo.
He moistened his parched lips with his tongue and let out a shaky breath. And maybe it has been that long…but you’d never seen anyone look so desperate to take you. Never felt so paralyzed by desire.
"Can I please... have you?" You can’t imagine he’d ever worked this hard for a fuck.
You never thought of yourself as sexy. You always thought you looked average. But when you're with him, he made you feel unbelievably irresistible. You haven't felt this confident in a while.
His mouth gently grazed the side of your jawline. "Please...tell me I can have you."
Curiosity consumed your body, leaving you no choice but to surrender. Finally, you permit yourself; and in turn, permit him. “Yes.”
You slowly tilt forward until your lips gently meet his but he doesn’t take the lead. Instead, he decides that you should still take it at your own pace, and he’s more than happy with it. It’s slow. Soft. Tender…everything that you hoped it would be.
He presses his hand onto the small of your back, making you arch against his hold.
“Bed?”
“Mm-hm,” you hum your agreement against his mouth.
“Where?”
You fist at his shirt and pull him down the hallway and into your bedroom.
His back hits your door, which slams against the wall, jolting you into his arms. He can do nothing more than keep up with your pace, all while silently demanding you start ridding him of his clothes.
Your tongue circles his mouth, your heads tilting constantly, taking other angles, pulling back, only to crash together once again. It’s wild, messy, yet absolutely incredible.
“You’re so sexy, you know that?”
“You’re just obliged to say those things.”
“I’m not obliged to say or do anything I don’t want to.” He peels off the wall and walks you both farther into your bedroom. “And neither are you.” He backs you in until your legs feel the mattress against them. He turns you around, zipping your dress down. “Do you understand?”
You nod and remain still as he unfastens you and then pushes the dress downward, his eyes falling to the material that pools around your feet.
His hands reach for the clasp of your bra. One flick of his deft fingers releases it, and he notices your shoulders lift. He moves in close and slides his forearm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“We can do this however you want. You have control, okay?” He whispers, trying to ease your nerves. You were tense, but not from fear. It was from anticipation.
“Yes,” you respond.
“You’re beautiful and I want us to take our time.” He drags the straps of your bra down your arms until it tumbles to the floor. “We don’t need to rush through this.” Kissing your cheek lightly, he relishes the feel of you pushing closer to him. “I want to remind you how good it can feel.”
You turn and lift your chin to look at him. Without a word, you start to unbutton his shirt, one by one, slowly and purposefully, with a whole range of of thoughts and emotions running through your head.
He lets you undress him at your own speed, resisting the urge to rip his own clothes from his body and toss you on the bed. “Want some help?” He asks to find out what options you’d be open to.
You peer up at him, and he sees apprehension in your gaze. You smile and shake your head ‘no’ softly.
He realizes that even though you’re desperate for him to take you, you have no idea how this will all play out. It’s been so long, and he was the first partner you’d been with in a while. You didn’t know if you wanted it raw and fast or slow and loving.
“Don’t be nervous.” He takes your wrists, instantly feeling you tremble. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“But I want to.” Your gaze drops from his, down his bare torso, your teeth sinking into your lip. “I really…really…do.”
Pulling away from his hold, you push his shirt from his shoulders and place your hands on his pecs. His body feels like it’s just gone up in flames, and his hands twitch, desperate to grab onto you. Ravage you, kiss you…ruin you. The look in your eyes tells him you’re aware of all this because you want to do all of those same things to him.
You reinforce this with a hard kiss on his lips, and he’s instantly overwhelmed by it, his palm going to the back of your head, gently pushing you closer, his mouth opening, inviting you in.
Your hands are everywhere. Your kisses turn sloppy. His actions convey a sense of urgency, making him want to take you hard and fast, show you how good he could be for you. He can feel his control slipping but somehow manages to maintain his hold on those last few strands. He knows this isn’t the time for him to get carried away. He was giving up control to you.
Holding your head in his hands, he slows the tempo of your kiss. Suddenly, it was all coming back to you now. Your hands snake down to the fly of his pants, you undo it and slide them off him, all while keeping your lips locked. He takes you down to the mattress, your tongues dancing slowly, breathing each other’s breath.
You never thought he’d taste this good, even with the hints of alcohol mixed between you. He comes down to rest over you, taking his arms up over your head, leaving your hands free to roam his back, his ass, and eventually his face. You’re both lost and consumed by each other.
He forcibly breaks your kiss to test a theory.
You let out a whine, hating the loss of contact. You lunge at him, wanting to capture his mouth again but he teasingly pulls away. You lean in again and he retreats with a soft chuckle. Finally, you let out a growl, clasp your palms on either side of his face, and aggressively pull him back to you.
His chest rumbled in arousal, and he kisses you back with just as much fervor.
You pant against his mouth, your hands grabbing at his hair, legs locking around his waist, telling him that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Your lips purse, your hands sliding past the waistband of his boxers. You push them over the rise of his ass. “Are you worth every penny?” You cheekily pinch his butt, making him flinch and grin at the same time.
“Yes,” he says simply.
You giggle, then sink your nails into his flesh. He grits his teeth, enduring the sharp pain. “And I’m supposed to just take your word for it?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He raises his eyebrows in warning as your hand glides softly through his dark strands. “But yes, you’d better take my word for it. Let me make you feel good?”
Your lips press together, your hips flexing up, pushing into against his hardon. “Yes,” you breathed out.
With your consent, his lips crash into yours, the slow and steady pace all but forgotten. Wild hands feel down his thighs and start pulling impatiently at his boxers. He fully appreciates your eagerness, taking his own hands to your panties, pushing them down your legs just as impatiently.
You inhale sharply but quickly adopt his method, tugging and squirming to break free of your last bits of clothing.
Until there is nothing but skin on skin. Nothing but the friction of his flesh rubbing all over yours as your bodies entangle, lips and tongues clashing, your moans and hungry gasps filling the room.
His hand grazed your clit lightly, stimulating the sensitive nerves there. Your breath caught and you tilted your head back as he moved down your body, kissing and licking downward until he was past your torso.
His thumb swiping at your soaked folds sends an unexpected shiver up your spine, making you gasp. He’d anticipated a slow build, but after a few light strokes, he realized you were already primed for him.
His fingers continued to work you, pumping at a slow, even, and purposeful pace that increased both the pressure and area with each stroke. His digits were gliding up and down your folds in a slow circuit, coming up to your clit, then down…easing in and out of your aching cunt. Your breaths started to turn ragged, and he took it as his cue to change his pace in bursts, shortening each motion while your orgasm built.
“Oh shit, I’m close,” you choked out as your muscles seized. “Keep going…”
His strokes became shorter as your climax neared. Dipping in and pressing up against the roof of your core, sending you over the edge. He kept the pace until the sensation became unbearable.
The second you felt the first shudders of your orgasm rip through you, you let out an aggressive, high-pitched gasp. You gripped at your sheets, back arching off the mattress as you trembled with relief and satisfaction.
You barely notice him getting off the bed to grab a condom from his pants, which were on the floor. He tears open the foil and carefully rolls the condom down his length.
It doesn’t take much guidance to get his cock resting at your throbbing entrance. You suck in air and hold it, pulling back to get him in your sights. His eyes on you, he nudges his hips a fraction, resisting the urge to pound straight in. “Ready?”
“God, yessss!” You can hardly talk through your desperation so instead, you roll your hips up and take a bit more of him.
He pushed into you, eliciting a small cry from your lips as you adjusted to the stretch.
He swivels his hips, grinding deeply. He flexes his hands over your hips, keeping you pinned against the mattress, withdrawing from your pussy and gliding gently back in.
He watches you melt beneath him, but the slight quiver on your lip worries him. He pauses his movements and loosens his hold on you.
“Are you okay?” His fingers gently brushed your forehead.
With a swift kiss to his lips, you nod. “I’m good.” You sink your nails into his ass and roll your hips onto his, telling him wanted more.
You fist your hands in his hair, moaning in invitation as your body goes into autopilot. You feel his palms squeeze your thighs again, bracing himself as his hips grind against you once more.
You don’t know how you’ve managed to resist him this whole time.
He nips at your bottom lip and releases it, pulling his face away and looking you straight in the eyes. He rolls his hips again, grinding hard against your pelvis, making your core clench tightly. Your head lolls on a deep moan, giving him free access to your throat. He takes full advantage of it, licking and sucking at the hollow.
You could cry with pleasure at how good it felt.
Nuzzling your cheek, he takes your hands and thrust them up on the pillow, he elevates himself a little to get a good look at you. You’re panting in excitement and need. Loving the feel of him inside you. He rolls his hips teasingly. “You like it slow?” He licks his lips, savoring the sight of you breaking into a sweat.
“I don’t really care,” you utter.
“Please, tell me what you like.”
“And I’m telling you I don’t care,” you insist. “Just don’t stop–”
At the sound of your words, your eyes immediately dart up to Yoongi, who was now sporting the cockiest smirk. Flustered, you end up muttering, “Ugh, just keep going, okay?”
“As you wish,” he says with a chuckle. Lowering his face, he catches your mouth gently as he continues the measured, delicate rock of his hips, making sure his drives are slow and exact, his tongue following suit. He releases your hands, allowing you to feel him.
He lets you control your kiss again, only breaking away from time to time when you lazily throw your head around on the pillow, sighing, moaning, eyes rolling to the back of your head from arousal.
You’re caught in the moment and floating in mid-air. He keeps his rhythm steady, ensuring that you’re kept in a consistent state of pleasure. He’s amazed by how responsive you were to him, finding himself enthralled at the sight of you losing yourself.
He peels away from your chest as he lifts and balances his weight on his forearms. Your eyes follow his, your hands reaching for his face, holding him. Your hips are in perfect sync, his rolling down, and you undulate upward to meet his, each plunge taking your breath away.
In one swift move, he rolls you both over until you were on top. He gives you a look, reminding you that you were in control. With a gentle nudge from him, you sit up, shifting your legs on either side of him for leverage.
You ease into your movements. He closes his eyes and flexes his hips to meet yours, filling you to the brim as he exhales. You lift off slightly, feeling his length slide out. His mouth falls open with a sigh when you sink your hips to take him in again.
You were feeling drunk with the power you currently had–watching Yoongi coming apart beneath you. You place your hands on his shoulders for support until your ass rests atop his thighs.
You sway your hips and he matches your rhythm, maintaining that perfect synchronicity. You increase the speed and it didn't take long before you were fully captivated in pleasure again.
He slowly lifts himself off the mattress and sits up, his face right in front of yours. His hands move from your hips to your arms, maintaining a firm grip to hold you still. He then withdraws slightly before thrusting sharply into you, causing you to cry out.
Your head lolls sideways and back, as he fucks in and out of you. You open your eyes, stare down at him, your breathing ragged, and he’s staring back at you, eyes blazing.
“Fuck…don’t…stop,” you mewl pathetically as he pounds into you.
He groans loudly, closing his eyes again, tipping his head and leaning it against your forehead.
He feels you inching closer to another orgasm. He reaches between you to massage your clit, circling it in the most optimal rhythm, applying the perfect amount of pressure, enough to send you over the edge.
You both calmly roll through your own waves of pleasure, a stark contrast to the frantic hammering in your chests.
“Are you okay?” He asks against your misted neck, still catching his breath.
You giggle softly, rolling your forehead against his forehead. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”
His lips curve into a smile before he gently places soft, leisurely kisses on your lips. At the same time, his fingers caress your cheek and neck. He didn’t need to do all that, but it felt good.
You pull away and regard him intently. “That was nice.”
“Aftercare is important.” He plants another soft kiss on your lips before he gingerly lifts you off him.
He asks for permission to use your shower, and you direct him to the linen closet where he can find some towels for himself.
“Yoongi?” You call out to him. He turns around and hums his prompt for you to go on.
“You know, if I could afford you, I’d pay twice whatever you’re charging.”
He grins at the compliment, nodding before turning back towards the door. “I can give you access to the app if you’re serious about it,” he says over his shoulder in jest.
His laughter sends gentle currents coursing through your body. The thought amuses you, as you sink back into your sheets while the sound of your shower tap turning on echoes through the room.
******
For somebody whose work revolved around sex–it sure didn’t feel like it from your perspective, nor his.
Everything felt natural and organic. Every touch, every kiss felt real. Every movement you made was in response to his–an even exchange, never missing a beat. The whole act itself flowed like a great conversation, one that you didn’t want to end.
It wasn’t that he had magical skills in bed. There were no special rituals or elaborate positions. His strength was in genuinely understanding that sex went beyond the physical aspect. He knew how to build anticipation and actually deliver.
Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi had spent the entire night setting the mood for the moment and the result was extremely satisfying. He made you feel so comfortable and relaxed that it made the sex that much better.
And it was mind-blowing! Even then, that adjective felt inadequate in describing the experience.
As he was getting ready to leave that morning, you let him know that you didn’t feel the need to call him again even after he offered to meet up off the clock.
“Look, I’m flattered, but you don’t need to do me any favors. Besides, I wouldn’t want to take any business away from you,” you say to him.
“Don’t think of it that way,” he shook his head. “It’s just that I really enjoyed our time and I thought–”
“Then let’s leave it at that,” you interrupt him calmly. “I had a really great time, too.”
He sighs in defeat but asks again for good measure. “Are you sure?”
You nodded in response.
He took a step closer. You chuckle softly, butterflies tickling as he snakes his arm around your waist. “If you ever feel lonely, call me. I’ll be here for you. As a friend.” He gave you a smile that had the slightest hint of mischief in it.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Please do,” he says emphatically–almost begging. “And you know where to find me.”
You laughed.
“We can grab a drink, or something.” His eyebrows twitch and his teeth catch his lower lip while he stares at you.
You looked at him wryly, but deep down, you had to admit that his insatiable desire for you stokes your ego. “You know, you’re making this really hard–”
“Good. Glad I’m not the only one finding this…hard,” he rasps.
You slap of his chest playfully, eliciting a laugh from him. You roll your eyes but are unable to stop yourself from smiling. “Oh my god! You’re a menace!”
He throws his head back, laughing some more, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “I’m teasing, of course. But I’m serious, though. If you ever want to talk, I’m a phone call away.”
You offer a small smile of appreciation in return. “Thank you.”
“Would it be alright if I kissed you goodbye?”
You shook your head softly. “That’ll be nice.”
He dips his head and pauses for a fraction of a second to brush the tip of his nose against yours, before fully capturing your mouth in a lush, deep kiss.
And it was nice, just as you thought it would be. It was also nice to feel wanted and desired–even for one night.
Tumblr media
Main Fic Masterlist
You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!
If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜
Tumblr media
Tagging: @itdoesntmatterwhy @internetjunkdrawer @purplewhalewrites @shesoldbutcute @yoongukie-ff
359 notes · View notes
adaginy · 9 months ago
Text
The Big Guide to Humans: Mating — Reproduction, Sexuality, Genitalia, and Sexual Contact
In its basic unassisted sense, human reproduction requires one male and one female (see sex and gender; it is recommended to read that entry first). Each partner contributes half of the genetic material to create a new human, and that genetic material is roughly half of a copy of their own genes.
A male's internal genitalia produce millions of mobile packets of genetic material in a protein-rich nutrient gel, and the external portion serves as a tool to introduce it deeper into the female's internal genitalia. A female's internal genitalia produce a single packet of genetic material with a starting supply of cell building blocks, and offers a space for the male's mobile packets to meet and fuse with it, a process called fertilization. If this happens, the combined genetic information will latch into the female's circulatory system via the wall of this meeting place, and proceed to grow over the next 3/4 of a year into a human baby (see lifespan and development), enclosed within the female, who will become obviously distended. At the end of this time, her body pushes the completed baby out via the path between the internal and external genitalia. The female's external genitalia serve as a gate to this passage. There is a small window of time in which this fertilization is possible; only a few human sleep cycles. If this time is missed, the meeting place will cease preparations to contain a baby and remove its existing preparations, falling briefly fallow until preparing for a new fertilization window. This process takes approximately 28 human sleep cycles, depending on the female and how she has adapted to the local day/night cycle. The preparations-removal time can be uncomfortable for the female; do not be alarmed if you smell blood. In humans, both male and female external genitalia are also connected to the excretory system.
Humans categorize their within-species sexual attractions as being attracted to the same gender as themselves, a different gender (most common), or multiple genders. For some this may be an absolute barrier to an attraction outside of that category; others may consider themselves certain until they feel an unusual attraction to a particularly compelling potential partner. (It is also possible to have no attraction in this way at all.) This is usually, but not always, the same limitation applied to their romantic attractions; though the exceptions and sometimes-not-at-all applies to those as well. Whether a human requires/prefers romance to be involved with sexual contact varies by individual. See flirting for more on determining a human's romantic and/or sexual attraction. For humans whose attractions extend to other sapients, the "gender" barrier may be ignored, or they may (usually unconsciously) estimate how a non-human would map into the human gender chart and find their attractions limited by this assumption.
The rest of this chapter will assume you and a human have agreed to sexual contact. While this is not intended as a sexual manual, it is within this guide's mission to prevent surprises and ensure safe, successful interactions.
Process:
Human reproductive mating requires inserting the male's external genitalia (penis) through the female's external genitalia (vulva) and into the internal (vagina). However, nearly anything that can safely produce similar physical sensations can be enjoyable, and humans will also use their hands, mouths, and specially designed objects for the pleasure of non-reproductive mating.
The penis hangs relatively soft and small between a male's legs when not in sexual use; arousal will cause it to stiffen, enlarge, and stand approximately perpendicular to the body. It is sexually sensitive along its entire length, but particularly at the distal end, which is rounded and may be a different color. The internal genitalia are in a pouch underneath the penis. The pouch is also sexually sensitive, but delicate. The vulva is a series of skin-folds that reveal the entrance to the vagina when separated. The folds, particularly the inner ones, are sexually sensitive, as is the entrance. Arousal causes slight swelling of this area, and the skin here will produce lubricating fluid; do not attempt insertion of anything until adequately slippery. Slightly above the entrance to the vagina is a small, hooded protrusion called a clitoris; this is extremely sexually sensitive to the point that rough contact will cause it to retreat under the hood.
All of these sexual areas can be stroked or lightly pressured (squeezing for the penis, filling/outward pressure for the vagina) for sexual pleasure; the human may request more, less, firmer, faster, etc. In addition, humans also often enjoy stimulation of the nipples (the paired protrusions on their upper torso). Individual humans may also have other sexually-stimulating zones, such as the backs of the ears and neck. Human aggression may or may not extend to sexual contact, some enjoy pinching/being pinched, biting/being bitten, striking/being struck, etc, even to the point of injury. This is something to discuss beforehand and in the moment.
Continued sexual pleasure will eventually cause the human to "climax", which for the male produces that jet of nutrient gel and genetic material, and for the female involves involuntary clenching of muscles in and around the internal genitals. After this, the penis will become soft and possibly painfully sensitive, requiring recovery time before it can stiffen again; whether a female will want to continue (and whether she will climax again) varies.
Humans often enjoy "cuddling" after: a period of quietly resting together skin-to-skin.
Risks:
Hybridization and prevention: Either sex can take reproduction-preventing medication, but it is very rare for human females to produce human/non-human hybrids, owing to the scientific details of reproduction and the immune system. Hybridization is usually the result of a reproduction-capable non-human mating with a human male. If this would be a risk for your species, and the human male is not on preventive medication, he can wear a "condom," a penis-sheathe designed to prevent the dispersion of his genetic material.
Disease: Although inter-species disease risk is low, it is still important for the human to be screened for anything dangerous to you, given the sheer volume and aggressiveness of Terran-native microbes. Humans have a microbiome of bacteria, viruses and fungi on their skin — and, for females, within their internal genitalia — all of which are usually harmless to them. They also have a separate oral microbiome that is considerably more dangerous and should be avoided unless medical has screened and approved it specifically. (Humans can also spread pathogenic microbes to each other by sexual contact, but the non-human risk from those is not particularly more than from the others.)
Fluids: The human male's sexual fluids are usually slightly alkali and the human female's are usually slightly acidic. A condom or similar device can be used for protection from this risk as well. Their mouth fluid is acidic and corrosive regardless of microbiome, belonging to their digestive system.
!! Always, always talk with medical first. They can answer questions about your species-specific risks regarding hybridization, dangerous fluids, or Terran-native microbes. They can do this well in advance of sexual contact or even attraction to specific partners; only the disease screening is specific to individual humans. !!
There is considerable variation in human genitalia: In length and thickness, in curves and angles, in hair presence, in color, in sensitivity. There is also considerable variation in what a human may enjoy or be capable of sexually. And, as the universe has learned, humans are creative. If there is mutual interest but your body cannot do the things described, or if medical has given you dire restrictions, talk to the human about it. Humans live by the Terran saying, "where there is a will, there is a way." Do not assume that mutual enjoyment is impossible.
65 notes · View notes
letters-to-lgbt-kids · 2 years ago
Text
(TW: Sex, genitalia mention)
My dear lgbt+ kids,
Sex isn't supposed to hurt. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying.
That includes all kinds of penetration: vaginal, anal, with a penis, finger or toy. "Entry pain" with penetration isn't normal and neither is pain during or after sex.
There are sadly still people out there who tell vagina-owners that it's normal to feel uncomfortable during sex, that penetrative sex isn't supposed to be enjoyable for you, only for your partner, or that you need to bear the pain (either for your partner's sake or "until you loosen up" - which is not how the vagina works!).
The idea that “you are born tight and need to be loosened up by a penis” (and that you therefore need to lie down and take the pain until you are loose enough) is a complete myth. It is easily debunked by basic biology: your vagina is a muscular canal. That means its tissue is elastic! It can stretch when it needs to, and then it bounces back (just think about childbirth! It can stretch to fit a whole baby) - and it can do that because that’s how muscles work, it doesn’t need some magic penis to come along and teach it to do that. It’s actually a pretty sexist idea that you’d need that! 
Pain isn't (and shouldn't be!) a normal, regular part of sex. If penetration hurts, it's a sign something is wrong. It's a good idea to talk to a medical professional who can help you pinpoint the exact reason.
Here are a few common causes:
Not enough lubrication. This means you are not "wet" enough. The vagina self-lubricates when aroused, the anus doesn't. So, for vaginal sex it can help to just include more foreplay to make sure you are really aroused and ready to go! Foreplay can be anything that feels good and gets you in the mood. Additionally you can use lube (this is a kind of gel or cream specifically made to reduce friction during sexual activity which are safe to apply to genitalia - please do not try to use face cream, shampoo or anything like that. If it is not made to be used vaginally, it can really irritate your skin and make the problem worse!). For anal penetration, you always need to use lube.
Certain medications (like antidepressants, birth control pills or high blood pressure pills) can decrease lubrication as a side effect. If you suspect this plays a role, please do not discontinue your meds without your doctor's approval. Ask them for advice, maybe you can switch to a different brand or dosage. Lube can also be helpful in those cases.
Urinary tract infections can cause a burning sensation during or after sex. Talk to your doctor, you may need antibiotics or other medication to treat your UTI.
Skin problems in your genital area (like eczema) can cause pain during sex. If your skin looks red or feels itchy, raw or swollen, talk to your gynecologist.
Vaginismus causes involuntary spasms of the vaginal muscles. This may be the case if you can't insert anything at all (not even tampons) without experiencing severe pain. Talk to your gynecologist. (They usually do not need to perform an internal exam to diagnose vaginismus, if you are worried about the exam being too painful). Treatment can include physical therapy (such as pelvic floor exercises) and psychological therapy.
Depression, anxiety, high levels of stress or past traumatic sexual experiences can also contribute to pain during sex. This does not mean “The pain isn’t real, it’s all in your head”! Emotional health and physical health are interlinked. For example, depression can make it harder to feel aroused (and therefore lubricated). 
This is not an exhaustive list. There are other temporary situations, chronic conditions and acute illnesses that can make sex painful - if you are unsure or worried, it’s always best to consult a gynecologist. 
With all my love,
Your Tumblr Dad
713 notes · View notes
aconflagrationofmyown · 2 years ago
Text
That lil house, between your legs, where all my dreams wait
A Sarge & lil Mama fic -the Proposal
Tumblr media
Summary: Elvis informs a certain girl of his dreams that she’s gonna marry him…she’s got some concerns and conditions, one includes him making sure his babies will fit in her lil house
Warnings: Umm, the mild usual with this universe? Themes of breeding, housewife and innocence kink, ill informed consent regarding a pussy inspection and said pussy inspection and descriptions of a vagina (ok, it’s Elvis being a creep and looking up her skirt on her request, but made cute ok?) mentions of Gladys’ death
-February of ‘58 timeline change
“It’s been decided.” is the first thing out of his mouth that morning as he strides up to Elaine where she stands in the shade of her father’s porch.
She’d been over at Graceland all day yesterday and the evening, too, -most days here lately- trying to make him eat, trying to keep him company, trying to get him out of his mother’s closet. It had been in the reverse order of all that, but she had done it. She was the only human that Private Elvis Presley would take orders from, though he reckoned she didn’t guess that. Sweetly, softly, efficiently, she’d gotten him out and gotten him calmed down and gotten him fed. Probably would have put him to bed if he hadn't given her a weak smile and told her to run on now, he wanted to discuss something with her father.
And now he’s here on her porch, looking like maybe he did sleep after all, judging by the rumpled state of his usually pristine hair. It’s growing out a little since they shore him of his prized locks. She thinks he looks better this way, prettier and sweeter without the gel and the sulk. He looks older, too, the way his arms bulge from push-ups and bootcamp, highlighted by the way they bracket the porch posts as the heavy weight of his gaze flicks over her.
“What’s been decided?” Elaine asks him from the gloom of the porch, squinting at his looming silhouette as it’s outlined by the white, bright, February sun.
She’s unable to recall a single loose end regarding the funeral arrangements he had charged her to oversee. It’s over and down with. Miss Gladys is six feet below the sod in Graceland’s backyard and the fans and family have been hosted with impeccable hospitality by herself, the obituaries and memorials written, the flowers preserved as long as possible. Elaine noticed a few petals had started to fall from the Peace Lilly spray when she was over yesterday. She’d picked them up hastily, hoping he didn’t notice that even those were dying. The decisions are all over and done with, he’s due back to the army in a month. And she’s back to teach and produce at RCA.
“It’s been decided and don’t you go objectin, it’s for the best.” he repeats insistently, but his jittering leg gives away the bold act. He’s nervous, she realizes.
“What is it, Elvis?” she asks, voice soft and encouraging as it’s been all week.
“You’re gonna marry me,” he says, “talked it over with your daddy an’ everything, it’s settled. Graceland hasn’t got a mistress no more, and you belong there. Saw it all week, you’re perfect for it.”
He informs her -not asks, ask would imply some free will on her part- like it’s her required duty to the nation or something. Marry him. Like taxes or the draft.
“You outta your ever lovin mind?” she whispers, genuinely worried he’s snapped under the weight of his publically analyzed grief. She’s seen how useless Vernon has been in comforting him, she knows how lonely it gets when one’s mama isn’t there to comfort you for her dying on ya. Elaine really feels for him, she does.
He was there for her when it happened to her, so she’s been there for him. But she knows this can’t be more than a half baked idea.
“I’m dead serious.” he growls, his ferocity taking her aback, she shifts her weight from foot to foot and eyes him warily, “I told ya, it’s all settled, your daddy said yes, you ain’t got anythin to object to.”
“Don’t I just?!” she laughs, “Elvis, you’re just sayin this cause I’ve been with ya during these last few days, and you’re hurtin and you’re lonely and it’s understandable and I’ll be there for ya, always. But you just had a girl, and this’ll pass sure enough. You’re Elvis Presley, your life’ll go on after this. And, and I-well, I’ve been wanting to get married and I want babies and I’ve wanted it for awhile now. I’ve waited on ya to help me like ya promised but I won’t be played with, I won’t! Not even by you. Not even when you’re sore.”
“You want babies?” he asks, his voice low and a sweaty hand leaves the porch post and cups her cheek, calloused fingers digging into her scalp when she goes to pull away, “I’ll give ya babies.”
“I’m being serious, Elvis!” she complains, neck craned away from his assessment of her lips. She never jokes about children, and she won’t let him.
“So am I.” his soft, boyish face looks hopeful suddenly, and rather capable. “I’ll give ya babies, far more than most men could manage.”
“How?” she whispers, his persistent sobriety throwing her into confusion.
“How?” he repeats, copying her quiet tone, distantly hearing the faint squeak of the porch swing chains as the breeze lazily rocks it.
“Yes,” she hesitantly goes on, “how do you know you can? How does anyone know if they can?” It’s something that's bothered her for awhile now. The idea of marrying a man who fails to give her children like Mrs. Myers husband down the street. Five years married and no kids, it’s the talk of the neighborhood. Or those starlets who manage to never have a child and disfigure their waists, no matter the amount of masculine company they keep.
Elvis cocks his head to the side, a puzzled glimmer in his eyes as Elaine’s bashfully inquiring eyes plead with him to understand her burning curiosity. And when he does -fully understand her naïveté, that is- he feels his cock twitch beneath his belt.
“Wellll,” Elvis draws the word out and she is swaying towards him now, that boiling hunger to learn coiling her tight as she hangs on to his every syllable, “I’m pretty confident, it’s just a thing that a man can tell, ya see, it’s a guess, but an educated one. But, we could make sure.” he’s winging it at this point, and shaming his heavenly mother while he’s at it, but he can’t seem to stop himself, not now that he knows he’ll be her teacher and her claimer if he can just make her agree, “We could check and make certain I ain’t overpromisin’, make sure the furniture fits the house, if ya get my drift.”
She doesn’t get his drift. That’s plain to see by the quizzical furrow of her eyebrows and the gape of her plump mouth as she tries to make sense of his euphemisms. Clever and bright Elaine Phipps looking a bit dumb as she blinks up at him in the shade of her front porch makes him smirk wickedly.
“You want children?” she asks, instead of taking him up on his offer just now.
“Most certainly do, we talked bout this before, Elaine.”
“You were complainin bout Anita, back then. Anything to find fault with her, doesn’t mean ya like children.” she crosses her arms and it pushes up her girlish bosoms, pale and promising beneath her gingham check house dress. He’s gonna make those bigger, so plump they’ll spill over that merely adequate neckline.
“Look here you got it wrong, Anita and the rest, they were nice gals, yeah?” he concedes, but it’s just to launch his next explanation, “But they weren’t mama material, ya see? My mama, she told they weren’t fittin, and she told me you were. Just as all the twiggy boys and sleek doctors and the artists fellers ya hang round, they either want your money or they’ll only make decent beaux -but they ain’t gonna make good daddy’s. Mark my words.”
“And what, you don’t want my money?” she teases.
“Now, ‘Laney honey, I’m the one who makes ya your money.” he laughs, tweaking her nose with his fingers and she bats his hand away with a giggle. “And conversely ya own my voice, you’re on my label as a producer, right next to your ole man.”
“Speaking of,” she grows earnest, “ya know Sam Cooke? Signed onto RCA right after ya?”
“Yeah, what of ‘im?” he frowns, impatient this conversation has gotten derailed from its original purpose -to the topic of another man, and a swanky one at that, “You gonna marry him?” he balks.
“No, no! though if he asked…” she winks and he squeezes her waist in warning, feeling the soft flesh give under her girdle from his pressure. That’s how it’ll feel to hold onto her when she rides him.
“What bout him?”
“So, he’s gonna start another record company,” she looks so earnest and invested in the topic he has to let her go on, “one where the artists will have control and rights to their music! And he’ll stay at RCA in the meantime but he’s tryin’ to find supporters and other to join him, a few have already this first month. And, well -“
“What?” he asks again, and it makes her lashes flutter as she gets shy under his stare, “Ya want me to join?”
“Well yeah! Though I doubt Parker would let ya. But that isn’t what I was gonna tell ya.” she bites her lip, “My point is, the point is -that Sam has offered me to be a producer! I mean -Elvis! We’re talkin Cooke, Redding and Smokey and well Burke and- lord it would work for you! But the point is, I’m gonna be doin that, I’m thinkin of taking him up on it.”
“Now hang on a second.” he shakes her gently by his hold on her waist, “One minute you’re objectin to marryin me cause I’m ‘Elvis’ and you say that as if babies an’ me don’t go together like cookies and cream -and now here ya are all talkin bout hangin with cool cats and producin and climbin the laddeh. Which ya want honey? Thought you wanted to be a mama?”
“I’m just saying,” she stamps her foot in the little bit of floor space his crowding has given her on the porch, “You’re talkin bout marryin and Graceland havin a missus and meanwhile you’re gonna be gone across the ocean! How’s that make any sense? Ya don’t need a wife for that, I could be house sittin for ya just as well, while producin with Cooke in the meanwhile and when you get back, I’ve no doubt you’ll fall in with some starlet or other. See? There, fixed. Sensible plan now. And I agree to it, yer welcome.”
“Little girl, yer not hearin me at all.” he raps his knuckles against her oh so sensible yet silly head, her startled indignance the cutest thing he’s ever seen, “I want me a woman to marry before God, to give my children to, to raise those children to a right legacy, to help me make a change for good in all this mess. And I want that to be you.” he articulates the last sentence clearly and prods his index finger against her chest, like the finger of fate marking her out for this.
“Elvis i-“she shakes her head adamantly, and he thinks it must be a little hard for her to understand that his every daydream, every evening prayer, every midnight spill into the sheets these last two years have been about making a family outta her. But she will get the vision, she’s gotta. She has to. Or else. Else he’ll do somethin rash and unchristian if she doesn’t relent to bind herself to him before he goes back to Fort Hood.
Somethin real rash, like wring her neck or admit he’s a goddamn slave for her. Embarrass them both. She probably can tell, the way he’s gripping her and nearly salivating over such close proximity to her lips and body and everything. He has to remember his mama, has to remember how to treat the gal she pointed out to him in the manner befitting a new Mrs Presley.
“You want babies? Hmm?” he’s breathing in her exhales he’s so close, as she’s bowed backwards as he leans in, her little head almost bumping her fathers front door in an effort to keep their lips apart, “I’ll give ya babies. You wanna make good music? The best in music is holdin ya right now, baby. You wanna make a difference? I know ya do, ya want power and ya want security and money and ya want love, don’t ya? Way I see it, I’ll give ya that. Better and more of it than anyone. Sensible plan, ain’t that what ya called yours? Well, here’s one, damn sight more sensible than yours and tryin all this solo.”
Her pretty lips are puffing with each labored breath she takes to steady herself and her eyes track over his face intently, and he knows she weighing the pluses and the minuses, his fame verses money and his moods over his devotion and his appetites over his loyalty and anonymity over influence. The hands she has pressed to his chest to keep them apart soften with each passing moment.
“But -do ya even love me, Elvis?” she asks, a note of something very sad but a little hopeful lingering in her voice. Like she’s mourning the fact that she’s considering this for all the reasons that make her so wonderfully practical, but the girl in her can’t help but wish for a little romance.
A gust of a breeze whips her hair around her in a swirl of brushed out curls and her eyes sparkle even in the porch’s shade. He cups that precious, brave little face in his hands and presses her against the screen door, neighbors and street traffic be damned
“Oh honey,” he gushes then, cool demeanor abandoned and all that lovely passion she adores in him coming out at last, “I have for a long while now. And I can’t think of a stronger way of showin ya than to give you my babies. To make a life with you, give ya mama’s house and my name. Please say yes, Elaine. Please, please I need ya to say yes.”
“Oh Elvis,” she breathes, feeling him hold her and promise to her and want her is every bit as naturally compelling of obedience as that night of the funeral, but she never once imagined it as his wife, “I just don’t wanna be alone Elvis,” she tries to make him see her true fear, “I’m real honored by this but, but I’m so lonely and I want all this so I won’t be! And you’re gonna be gone. Gone to Germany and then gone to make music and movies and-“
“I’m gonna take ya with me! Always, always together, I swear!” he closes the distance and presses his lips to hers firmly despite her lack of response, “I need me a wife, Elaine,” he pants against her mouth and she can smell the spearmint of his gum, “I need a good woman, and you’re the one mama pointed out to me. Shouldn't of put it off so long but I-I was a fool. I need ya with me everywhere I go, don’t send me across the ocean without you! Don’t, you wouldn’t be so cruel, please baby, please!”
He’s not sure how it happens but he’s slumping down the length of her body, hands sliding along the gorgeous outline of her and suddenly he’s on his knees, painted boards hard against his knees, begging like a groom oughta, his face is pressed to her womb. This womb he’s got such plans for and such right to and he has to make her see that in his head they’ve been married for years already. “I’ve taken care of ya, haven’t I?” he begs her to remember, “You trust me to take care of ya, to love ya, to cherish you, don’t ya, Elaine?”
The kicker is she does. And she’s not sure why she worries more is needed. All she wants right now is to be needed, and the crying, grieving young man clinging to her right now needs her badly. She runs her fingers through his hair soothingly and likes the way that makes him shudder. “Will you always need me, Elvis? Really? Even when good times come round again?” she asks what really worries her.
He pulls his face away and looks up at her, lips puffy and his dark lashes clumped from tears, “Always, Elaine, always.”
“And you’ll give me Graceland?”
“Yeah, course baby, you’ll be my wife, it’ll be yours!”
“I mean...legally, you’ll give it legally.” she doesn’t ask this time, she’s stating conditions.
“I-I-if it matters so much, sure. What’s some more papers?” he laughs. “Why?” he adds with a flicker of dread.
“You won’t divorce me if I’ve got Miss Gladys’ house, will ya?” she explains and has the audacity to grin.
It hurts deeply that she still doesn’t get just how badly he wants her for all eternity. “Why you talkin bout divorce, honey?” he asks wounded.
“So many people get them.” she says mournfully, “And mostly entertainers.”
“That's cause they marry icy bimbos and are selfish bastards.” he states, rising up to his own two feet again, the topic back on safe ground -ground he has the upper hand in. “See, darlin, there’s plenty of men who want wives, and cause the wives want children they tell the poor girls they want kids, too. But they don’t, so once the wives have got the kids they move on. Real dastardly thing to do and more common than you realize. And with your money and your looks, you’ll have a line of such good for nothin bastards linin up with fake promises. You understandin me?”
“Yeah.” she swallows thickly, knowing he knows far more about all this than she does.
“So it’s important to marry someone ya trust, right?” he prods.
“Yeah.”
“More so than even someone ya love, dontchu think?”
“I suppose so.” she nods, care creasing her face, “You don’t mind that I don’t love ya Elvis?” she asks worriedly, “Because I am really fond of ya, and I enjoy you I just -I don’t think I love ya.”
“I’m willin to bet that’ll come.” he says solemnly, “And I’m willin to put in the work to make it grow. Just as I will our babies.”
Her face softens at the mention of the longed for babies. A smile even plays around her mouth, beginning to plump up her cheeks. “Will ya check, then?” she whispers.
“Check what?” he asks, absently thumbing the beautiful line of one of her collarbones.
“If it’ll work.” she blushes, ignorance both emboldening and shaming her all at once, “Make sure we can make babies for sure, you and I.”
“Gotta do that before you say yes?” he laughs, disbelieving and feral at the prospect.
“Yes, it’s important to me, Elvis.” she remonstrates against his humor. “Most important thing of all.”
“A-a-alright, I-I-I’ll check.” his mouth runs dry at the prospect of seeing, smelling, maybe even wetting his fingers in that place he’s wrung himself dry imagining night after night and morning after morning. And the fact she’s asking, offering -under ill informed pretenses as it is. “Can’t do it out here.” he whispers, the depravity of his taking advantage like this actually taking a toll on his bravado.
“Come in then,” she whispers in turn, though from a different motivation, “but be quiet, daddy’s still sleeping, ya kept him up so late.”
She opens the creaky screen door with painstakingly slow care, and the large wooden one, too, with its familiar stained glass windows. It is cool and dark without a lamp on or blind raised inside their den, she’d barely gotten dressed and come downstairs to start breakfast when she heard his car peel out in the front drive.
She spins around just short of the coffee table, her circle skirt swirling and swooshing tantalizingly, no stockings on yet as she wasn’t prepared for guests.
“Where should I….” she trails off as she surveys the different flat spots upon which to perch for this examination, her devout ignorance of the socially condemned nature of it all giving her a chipper confidence that Elvis finds throbbingly attractive in an unschooled virgin.
His voice sounds gravelly and about three octaves deeper than usual when he croaks out, “Anywhere's fine -how bout here…” he picks her up by her waist to sit her on the high top, Oriental imported side table, a gift her father gave her mother as an anniversary present.
It’s taller than the couch and it lets her legs dangle apart naturally. He could easily take himself out and slide right into her at this level. It makes him dizzy when he hears her shaky exhale as he seats her, belying a real, deep seated nervousness on her part that he’ll find some abnormality with her that will crush her dreams. The fact he’s certain she’s not as nervous over a red blooded boy lifting her skirt and looking at her bare cunt makes him so painfully hungry to devour her that he has to gnaw on his bottom lip to keep from groaning. -And taking advantage of what’s not yet his. For his mama's sake, for his mama's dream of this, he’s gotta keep ahold of himself and refrain from anything God might find fault with. For them to be punished with barrenness because Elvis couldn’t hold back before the proper time would be too cruel. He can’t do that to Elaine or himself. He’s gonna be the man in her life, has already been so for awhile now, and he’s gotta do right by her. He thinks this even as he gives her lips another peck and sinks to his knees to give her pussy an inspection that is as futile as it is arousing.
He rubs at her thighs over her dress soothingly, though by her quick breaths he suspects she’d rather he hurry and give a verdict. Her eyes that have been turned towards the staircase, making certain father is still asleep, drop to his face expectantly.
“Here I -let me, I should probably-“ she says determinedly and suddenly she’s pulling at her skirt, the thin fabric sliding from beneath his palms as she lifts it and then he’s holding onto warm flesh instead as she gathers the fabric to her waist.
He chokes on his own spit at her innocent brazenness and has to glance away for a moment from the blood stirring sight of graceful thighs bracketing plain white panties, a wet patch visible on the crotch and a few stray wiry curls sneaking out from the seams at her groin.
“You ok?” she asks, and the genuine concern in his voice tells him that the agonizing need he feels is visible on his face.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re just so goddamn pretty.” he admits, truth the only thing he can manage to blurt and it serves him well.
She looks relieved and gives him a pleased smile and chooses to spread her legs wider. So wide in fact that she has her heels propped on the sideboard beside her hips. Who needs stirrups for an examination when a girl can bend like that? Bend…oh god he can’t wait to bend and bury and dump inside her…
Elvis has never wanted to dive face first into a muff so bad in all his life. The wedding is gonna have to be next week. He can’t wait longer than that, he doubts he’ll sleep a wink until he knows what she tastes like.
“Can you tell like this?” her soft voice reminds him he gave her a fucking excuse for this perverted cock tease torture and he reels through the options of backing out now or pushing this a little further. “Or do you need to move these?” she voices the second option for him, the barrier of her panties implied if not mentioned.
“Yeah, gotta look at the lil house.” his voice comes out wavering and wrecked, “Lemme just-“ he tentatively raises his hands to her precious place and hooks his fingers to the cotton panties and pulls them to the side.
She’s so goddamn pink. Glistening and swollen like she’s been freshly teased. Something about him excites her, without her even knowing. Her curls are sopping wet, they slick up his fingers as he holds her apart, and in their strands they’re trapping the most delicious essence he’s ever smelled in his entire life. She hasn’t shaved, she hasn’t primped, she hasn’t stretched herself out, she’s exactly as God made her and he’s the first man to see it.
It causes him to whimper, long and gut wrenched, his whole throat throbbing as he wiggles on the floor.
“Oh…Jesus.” he wheezes.
“What?” she demands peering down at him, and she’s the authoritative one here, now that he’s all but humping the floor in his delicious misery of viewing Elaine Phipps’ perfect, unused cunt. “Will it work? Is something wrong?”
“No no no.” he garbles out, one hand slipping from her slick folds and gravitating to his own lap out of natural instinct, crushing his twitching bulge into submission, “You’re perfect, Elaine, absolutely perfect.” he wants to cry, maybe because he's so horny, maybe because he loves her so damn much. He’s really not sure, nothing makes sense except that he was meant to live inside that perfect little haven of hers that is honest to God trickling before his very eyes. His thumb involuntarily swipes up and spread it to her clit, making her buck towards his attentions.
“It’s achey, Elvis, it’s always achey.” she informs him, “Does that mean anything? Is it wrong?”
And he knows she means wrong as in humanly abnormal, not morally incorrect. He’ll never let her know anyone would think differently. As long as he possibly can he’ll keep her eager and unabashed.
“Nah honey, nah that’s a good sign.” he breathes heavily, still stroking that dribbling, untried place, “Means you’re fertile, means you’re ready for a baby. It’ll keep achin till ya have one in ya.”
“Oh.” her mouth rounds childishly and she nods as if this were a sudden epiphany.
“We should give ya a baby, then, shouldn’t we?” he prods now that he’s got her attention and her arousal.
“I’spose so.” she agrees, tentative, her lip drawn between her teeth, still contemplating this marital bargain with the fabric of her hem crushed in her palms. “Your babies’ll fit?” she asks once more for good measure.
His babies. She’s no idea it’s his cock she should anticipate. “Yeah, perfect fit. Don’t think anyone else’s would.”
“Oh….good.” she lets out a massive sigh of relief she has been holding in for most of her teenage years.
“Gotta marry me, first.” he reminds, swirling his thumb faster and she keens a little before remembering her father upstairs, “I can’t go round givin babies to someone who ain’t my wife, ya know.”
“Alright.” she agrees to marry him in a soft whisper, her hand coming to cover his own tenderly as it works between her legs, stalling his distracting movements.
“What’s that?” he asks again, breathless with hope.
“I’ll marry ya Elvis, if you’re sure we’ll work.”
“I’m sure.” he swears, watching the way her pink hole flutters, “I’ll give ya a baby and fix the ache, darlin. Won’t have to fret over anything again your whole life.”
The floorboards upstairs creak and Elvis nearly yelps in shock, so far gone was he in their own little world he’d forgotten that he’s got her spread bare in her father’s den. He stands up abruptly and pulls her skirt down gently, making her proper again.
Wedding night. He’s gotta wait till the wedding night before trying anything, or even explaining the mechanics of it, he thinks. He doesn’t wanna spook her, and he wants to have her stuck with him before he drops that final little detail about the necessity of a man going inside and blowing his load in order for the miracle of life to occur.
Yeah, that’s not something you tell a skittish little girl who just barely agreed to marry you for your mansion and security.
He’s pulled from this scheming by the feel of her arms winding around his neck, drawing him forward gently and to the immense relief of his battered heart he realizes she is about to kiss him. It’s a sweet kiss, gentle and tentative and growing in surety as she decides she likes it, and it’s the loveliest one he’s ever had, made so by the relief that she must care for him somehow, even if it’s no match for the insane obsession he harbors for her. It’ll do, it’s a seed he can water and grow.
“You’ll stay for breakfast?” she asks him as they pull away, drowsy and a little cross eyed from how long they’ve smooched.
“Love ta.” he murmurs, pulling her off the table and drawing her close so he’s holding her to him, swaying gently and savoring the feeling of his soon to be wife as she nestles into his chest.
Father comes down shortly after.
“It’s settled, sir.” Elvis informs him, a respectful title tacked on to a declaration that leaves no room for argument from either of you, “She’s agreed. And I’m the happiest of men.”
Most fathers might tell him, “congratulations” or “welcome to the family” or if it were someone besides Elvis Presley they might venture a “be true to her.”
Father says not a word, all advice and remonstrance and conditions already expended on this headstrong young man the night before. He surveys the young people as they embrace with a genuine smile on his lips and a world of melancholy in his eyes. Elaine wonders if he is mourning the loss of his own bride, or mourning her future as Elvis’.
For Elvis, though, that day is remembered as the most joyful and blessed of days when he lucked out and snagged the loveliest creature living. And how he came to eat French toast and cantaloupe beside her father without having washed his hands.
396 notes · View notes
resowrites · 1 year ago
Text
Rolo - oneshot.
Tumblr media
Summary: Henry takes learning about his wife’s pregnancy a tad too far…
Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC
Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, language, dialogue heavy, graphic descriptions of labour/childbirth, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.
WC: 3002
A/N: Remember, this is pure fiction (as in completely made up) and not in any way meant to reflect reality. My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!
Tumblr media
Rolo - oneshot.
"Oh my God, this reads like Stephen King…"
"Will you please be quiet? I'm trying to watch tv—"
"Oh stop, you can watch the A-Team any time. Now listen to this, a 'show' is the act of the mucus plug that seals the opening of the cervix, falling out as either a blob or smaller pieces of pinkish jelly—" she threw the spoon she was holding back into her pot of yoghurt.
"Henry shut up, I don't want to hear this while I'm eating!"
"It looks a bit like that apparently," he pointed to the pot in her hand, much to her chagrin. "It signals the start of the cervix beginning to soften and thin ready for labour, though this can take anywhere from an hour to several days to begin…" She hoped Henry was finally finished and tentatively took another mouthful of yoghurt. "Sometimes the colour of the plug is red or brown—"
"Henry, stop it!"
"What? I'm just trying to share with you the miracle of creation!"
"No you're not, you're being an annoying little shit because I had the last yoghurt and you don't want to let me enjoy it!"
"Don't be ridiculous, we've got our first scan coming up soon, don't you want me to be prepared?"
"Henry, it's not a fucking quiz, and anyway, it's me who has to answer any questions, not you!"
"Well, excuse me for wanting to be ready just in case, God most women would give anything for their husbands to be this involved!"
"Henry, why is it you need to know about the 'show,' or anything else that happens at that point in labour? You're not the one delivering the baby!"
"Well, who knows? You could go into labour on the bathroom floor and the paramedics might not make it to the house in time, we are a bit out in the sticks here."
"That won't happen, most women have to be induced—"
"What does that mean? Hang on let me look it up," he flipped further ahead in the baby book. "Ah, induction means to bring on the start of labour artificially. Before this is done, a membrane sweep is performed first. This involves a midwife or doctor sweeping their finger around the cervix via internal examination. This should help separate the amniotic sac surrounding the baby from the cervix—"
"Henry, I'm really getting annoyed with you now!"
"What? This is fascinating! To continue—" she gritted her teeth.
"If labour does not then occur, an induction will be offered next. This procedure involves the insertion of a pessary or gel into the vagina. If contractions do not begin after six hours, a further tablet or dose of gel will be used. Please be aware that induced labour is usually more painful and can require assistance via ventouse or forceps. What the hell's a ventouse?"
"Henry, I'm giving you until the count of five to put that book down. One—"
"A ventouse is a vacuum cup attached to your baby's head via suction—"
"Two—"
"It's pulled gently by the midwife or doctor to aid in delivery—"
"Three—"
"However, this method comes with several risks including a third or fourth-degree vaginal tear. This means the wall of the anus is ruptured—"
"Four, five! That's it, give me that right now!" She snatched the book from Henry's hands and chucked it aside.
"What the hell did you do that for?! We were just getting to an interesting bit!"
"Really, you find the instance of vaginal tearing even remotely interesting, do you?"
"Look, I have to learn about all of this otherwise I'll be clueless to help!"
"Is that right? And what help do you expect to be?"
"… Well, I can tell the doctor what it looked like before, it'll help him put everything back in place!"
"That's it, I'm going downstairs—"
"No, wait! I'm only joking, jeez lighten up will ya? I'm just trying to have a bit of fun!"
"Yeah, but it's easy to do that when you're not the one who has to give birth!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I'm already shit scared about all of this without you telling me my rectum could be torn asunder!"
"Oh for God's sake, that isn't going to happen!"
"Oh yeah? How do you know?"
"Because I won't let anything like that happen, alright?"
"Henry you're not going to have that much control over the situation, neither of us will!"
"Well maybe not but at least I'll be there to advocate for you, and I'll make sure everything is done correctly. That's why I have to learn about each stage of delivery."
"Well, can you at least stop reading aloud? I honestly don't want to hear all the grisly details thanks very much!"
"It's not grisly! It's a beautiful process—"
"Henry, birth may be many things but it's hardly beautiful—" he ignored her and continued.
"Just think, you'll be able to squeeze a whole person out of an opening that's only a few centimetres wide! Well, actually your cervix has to be ten centimetres dilated before you can safely start to push."
"Oh, God help me…"
"What? I can't wait! Being able to watch my baby being born will be the happiest day of my life! Even if it also means having to watch my favourite place in the whole world become like a Stretch Armstrong…"
"What do you mean? You're not going at the goal end, are you?!" Henry snorted.
"Well of course! Otherwise, how do I know that it's actually ours and not one that they've swapped?"
"Henry, trust me, no one is going to take our baby. So you're really going to watch the whole thing? Even as I start to crown?"
"Wait, what does that mean?" He tried to reach for the baby book which was still resting at the bottom of the bed.
"Oh no you don't, I'm not hearing any more blow-by-blows of birth thanks very much."
"Fine! I'll just look it up on my phone."
"Yeah, you might not want to do that—" suddenly Henry shrieked aloud.
"Jesus bloody Christ! Did it have to show me pictures? God, it's like she's being ripped in half!" He held his phone up close to her face.
"I did tell you not to look it up! Anyway, you wanted to see it, are you still so keen now on watching it live?"
"Well, I had no idea it was that graphic! Christ, I hope I don't end up with performance issues…" Henry looked down plaintively at his crotch.
"Oh, typical, you have to make it all about you. Did you honestly think the baby just appeared? Like all I had to do was sneeze and out it popped?"
"Well no, but now I must admit I'm getting scared as well - me and all of my brothers were big babies, I don't think it's gunna be that easy…"
"Oh well great, thanks for warning me."
"What? I'm just being honest! You could end up having one of those record babies, you know like how you see on the internet?" She breathed in hard.
"Henry, if you do that to me I will actually never forgive you—"
"Well, it's not my fault! Weren't you a big baby as well?"
"No I bloody well wasn't!"
"Maybe that'll balance it out then, besides it's not like they can't stitch you up afterward!"
"Oh God, kill me…"
"What? I can always get you a little rubber ring to sit on!"
"Henry, if you don't button it right now—"
"They use stitches darling, buttons would hardly be appropriate—"
"Carry on sonny boy and you're gunna be the one who needs stitches!"
"Alright, alright. God, I was only trying to be helpful!"
"No you weren't, you were just trying to scare me!"
"No I wasn't, I would never do that! As I said, everything will be alright—"
"You don't know that! This will be my first time giving birth, literally anything could happen..."
"Well, I'm sure there are lots of things we can do to prepare. Just let me have my handy guide back—"
"No, you're not reading any more baby books!"
"Fine, I'll just consult Google then instead. Let's see, how do you prevent tearing during pregnancy?" She took a deep breath. "Ah, see here it says an ep-is-iot-omy, a cut made in the perineum, is performed to make the vaginal opening wider where necessary—" 
"Right, I’m putting on my headphones—" 
"This cut is typically made diagonally… wait so they don't just cut downwards? You know so it's like one big hole?" 
"Oh bollocks, they're out of power!" 
"Are you listening to me?!" 
"I'm trying not to, no." 
"Well you'll be glad to know there's also such thing as 'perineal massage—'"
"Oh, well that's a relief…" 
"This can be performed from thirty-five weeks onwards as a useful tool to help prevent tears. It even says I can perform the massage for you—"
"Yeah, no thanks."
"Well, what do you expect me to do then? Just wait outside and leave you in the delivery room all scared and alone?"
"You can stay here, in fact. I'm not sure I even want you in the building anymore…"
"Oh now come on, you know I was only trying to make you laugh talking about all this stuff!"
"Henry I don't need a bloody comedian, I need a birth partner who's gunna take it seriously and actually be useful—"
"Yeah and that's why I'll be right by your side, cheering you on, and you can scream and yell and hit me as many times as you want."
"Can I do that right now?" He gave her a mischievous smile.
"I tell you what, why don't we change the subject and try some birth positions instead? Look, you can even lay like this with your arse in the air," Henry kneeled on both legs and let his face fall into the pillow. "Actually, on second thoughts, it was this position that got you into this situation..." She choked on her cup of tea. "What about like this then," he jumped out of the bed and propped one leg up on the edge of it. "It's called the 'leg-up lunge,' really helps open up the pelvis apparently and relieve back pain," Henry looked over to see her holding her face in her hands. "Or you can just do this," he rolled onto his back and pulled back each leg with his hands. In doing so, he landed on the remote and accidentally changed the channel.
"Oh for fuck sake, Henry! It was just getting to a juicy bit!" 
"Tell me about it, I need you to check how far along I am—" 
"Henry, I really am starting to lose my patience!" She leaned between Henry's legs and tried to manoeuvre him off of the remote. 
"Hey, it's me who's meant to push, not you!" 
"Will you bloody stop it?! And move out of the sodding way—" she carried on rooting around, not seeing the bottle of water he'd quickly grabbed from the bedside table. Seconds later, a jet of water hit her face.
"OH NO, I THINK MY WATER JUST BROKE!!!"
 "W-WHAT THE FUCK!!!" She coughed and spluttered while Henry collapsed into a pile of giggles. "That's it, I'm done." She scooched off the bed and headed for the door.
"WAIT, wait!" She stopped and turned round to face him. "You've still got water on your face—" she tried to storm off, only for Henry to catch her by the wrist. 
"Get off me, you arch idiot. I'm so angry with you I could scream!"
"Oh now come on! I was just trying to give us a bit of practice. I don't want you to think you've wet yourself—"
"HENRY, THAT IS ENOUGH!"
"Mmmm... I love it when you get mad. Come on, let's have some fun—" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 
"You must be joking!"
"Well, what’s the harm? I've already knocked you up!"
"Henry—"
"And don't think I haven't noticed how big they're getting…" Henry pointed towards her chest.
"Listen to me you little turd, they're not the only things getting bigger. Very soon I'm going to be up to fifty pounds heavier, with an arse that could flatten even you - so don't piss me off!"
"... But I'll be able to hear you coming." 
"Right, that's it! I'm sleeping downstairs. Seeing as this is all just some big joke to you—"
"Whoa, hang on, that's absolutely not the case. I'm sorry, alright? I was just trying to make you less worried about giving birth. Honestly, I don't care if you scream, cry, puke, or even shit everywhere—" her nostrils flared. "Take it easy! Come on, let's get to bed, all this stress isn't good for the baby." She batted his hand away and folded her arms almost as soon as she was back in bed. "Okay, so you don't want to lie on your back. That's probably for the best seeing as the baby could then shoot across the room if you push too hard... I wonder if that's ever actually happened? Lemme see." She snatched the phone away.
"Henry, this is your last warning—"
"Fine, fine. Can we talk names then?"
"Oh, but we can never agree! Everything you like, I hate! Besides your mum used up most of the decent boy's names…"
"Well, let's think, what about Jack?"
"See, I like Jack but it runs into your surname because of the ‘k’ sound at the end. So it sounds like one long name, 'JackCavill.'"
"Okay, well what about Jake?"
"That's the same problem."
"Alright then, Jacob?"
"Nah."
"Caleb?"
"Nah."
"Callum?"
"Callum Cavill? Isn't that a bit of a mouthful?"
"Okay well, let's park boys' names for a minute and try out girls' names instead. What about Amelie?"
"Nah, I don't want too many syllables."
"Okay, Amy?"
"Mmm, no I don't want anything too cutesy."
"Ugh, what about Olivia then? That way she can be named after you—"
"Except my name's not actually Olivia is it?"
"Well, it's still a nice name! Why don't you come up with some instead of just criticizing me?"
"Actually, I'd rather just sit here and watch my programme in peace, seeing as how you've robbed me of that opportunity for the last half an hour!"
"But we've got to come up with a shortlist of names, otherwise, we'll struggle nearer the time!"
"Well, my sister said it's sometimes better to wait. Often you pick a name and then find that it doesn't actually suit the baby at all."
"... How about Hollie?"
"Hollie?"
"Yeah, I mean, she'll be born around Christmas time and it's a nice combination of both our names."
"Mmm… maybe."
"… And for a boy, we could always have Rudolph." She sighed and switched the tv off so she could turn over and go to sleep. 
"Hey, hang on, we're not done yet!"
"Henry, we've got months to decide and if it's okay with you, I'd like to get to sleep before I'm given any more reasons to have nightmares."
"Oh darling, there's really nothing to worry about. I mean, the chances of it having a conehead or a vestigial tail are actually very minor…"
"What the hell are you talking about now?!"
"Oh, didn't you know? When a baby is born its skull compresses so that it can squeeze its way out of the birth canal—"
"Okay, got it."
"But don't worry, it'll eventually round out in a few weeks—"
"That's good to know. Goodnight Henry."
"Wait! I haven't said goodnight to the baby!"
"Oh don't worry, they've been listening to you all evening and would now like some peace and quiet as well."
"Aww come on, roll back over so I can kiss them and you goodnight." She sighed and reluctantly turned onto her back. This was their new nightly routine and Henry wouldn't let her rest until he got to perform it. He scooted down slightly so he was level with her waist, and placed both hands gently on her stomach. He then lowered his head and spoke quietly.
"G'night bubba, Mummy and Daddy love you so, so much - only a few more weeks and we'll get to hear your heartbeat for the first time!"
"You know the lucky sod can't actually hear you just yet? It won't be able to until I'm at least eighteen weeks—"
"Will you please stop being such a spoilsport! And stop calling our baby 'it!' We at least need to come up with a placeholder name. Something sweet and memorable—"
"So that's a no to conehead then?" Henry clucked his tongue.
"Ignore her bubba, she's just cranky cos you're making her hormonal and retain water." She thumped him on the arm. "Ow! That hurt!"
"That wasn't me, that was my hormones…" Henry rolled his eyes. "And can you go get me some Rennies? I've got heartburn again."
"Hey, that's an idea, what about Rennie?"
"You want to name our baby after an anti-acid?"
"Well, can you come up with something better?" She considered it for a moment.
"How about Rolo? I mean that's the only thing I've been craving since I've been pregnant."
"Is it really a craving if you ate them lots before you were pregnant? And how come we can't name it after indigestion tablets but we can name it after your favourite chocolate?"
"Well, why not? I think Rolo's cute! It's about the size of one at the moment as well."
"Fine, although there's also the option of Henry Junior…" She gave him an annoyed look. "Alright, alright. Rolo it is. And don't worry, to me you'll always have a beautiful vagina—"
"Right, just for that, get your arse down those stairs and get me some Rolo's as well. Now, mister!"
"… Are you sure there's any left?" The look on her face made Henry shoot out of bed but not before he gave both her and her stomach a kiss.  
Tumblr media
To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.
@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo
290 notes · View notes
99liv3s · 1 year ago
Note
Hi I would love to submit a character for the birth clinic.
Name: Lexie
Eye color: Blueish Green
Hight: 5'9
Body: Average yet Chubby
Personality: First time having a baby scared yet trying to overcome the fear. Doesn't know if I'm having one or multiple. Bonus if you can do a surprise story.
Panting slightly, Lexie walked up and down the corridors of the clinic, listening to the sounds of other mothers in labor screaming, moaning, and crying as her own labor continued to progress. Though she was not in too much pain yet, the sounds she was hearing were simultaneously increasing Lexie's nervousness about having her baby, and also giving her strength, knowing what to expect. "I can do this," Lexie thought, as she waddled back toward her room again.
Hours later, Lexie joined the chorus of painful noises as she moaned loudly, her labor having hit her full force. She had tried everything she could to get comfortable, but nothing worked. The massive pain and pressure wracked her chubby body, and she cried out in a low trill, waiting for the pain to pass. During the last checkup, the midwife had told her she was 8 centimeters dilated, and that had felt like it was days ago, though it had only been half an hour. Lexie thrashed around on the bed, not staying in one position for more than a few seconds as every position was painful now. She felt like she needed to push badly, and continued to moan and cry as she waited for her vagina to hurry up and dilate. After another long ten minutes, the midwife returned, and Lexie could have cried in desperate gratitude. "Hurry, I need to push!! Tell me I can push, please!" She cried.
"UUUUGGGHHHH!" "OWWWWIIEEE!" Lexie screamed out as she pushed, feeling the pressure continue to increase more and more in her birth canal. The pain was agony, and she was struggling to make progress with every push. Even the midwife could tell something was not quite right, so he called for an ultrasound machine to be brought in, and while waiting for this, tried to get Lexie to make a little more progress. "I... don't... know if... I can... do... this... any...more..." Lexie panted out, before letting out another screech of pain as she pushed again. Her vagina opened slightly as a female midwife entered, wheeling in an ultrasound device. As the young girl began to set it up, Lexie's primary midwife watched as the young mother's vagina closed again at the end of the push. Lexie was panting heavily, and the midwife told her to catch her breath as his assistant squeezed gel onto Lexie's exposed belly.
As Lexie screamed in pain again, the midwife shook his head, eyeing the screen. "This is one of the biggest babies I've ever seen," he said over Lexie's moans. "It looks like there's a small toddler in there!" "It's going to be quite an ordeal to get it out!" "We've come too far for a C-section, but there are other methods." Lexie's heart sank as the midwife turned and muttered something in a low voice to his assistant, who then left the room. "Ok, Lexie, you are going to have to push harder than before," he said to the laboring mother. "This baby is big, and that's why you are having so much trouble getting the head to crown!" "We've got to increase the pressure and move it out so that it stays out, ok?" Lexie nodded, scared for what was about to come. "Ok, on the next contraction, push as hard as you can and don't stop, no matter how much it hurts or how much your body wants to take a break... we want to combine two pushes into one long hard push!" "Scream as loud as you want to, but you must make progress." "We might try some different positions as well!" Lexie gasped as she felt the contraction, and bore down as hard as she could, shouting, screaming, grunting, and cursing, but not stopping. She felt a bulge form against the folds of her vagina, and it began to stretch open again. Black hair was visible in her opening, and when the midwife told her she could finally relax for a bit, the head only slightly retreated back in. "Ok, we're doing good, let's try something else..."
"OH GOD GET THIS BABY OUT OF MEEEE!" Lexie yelled from the floor where she was on her hands and knees, her vagina in the air for the room to see. A large head of black hair was crowning out of it, and the burning sensation combined with the humongous pressure made Lexie feel like dying. Over the last hour, she had changed positions several times, trying to work this massive head out of her. After leaving the bed, she tried a standing position, as the midwife had hoped gravity would help. After a few pushes in that position, Lexie had begun squatting, and it was in that position where she started feeling the burning of the head beginning to crown. The midwife had helped Lexie onto the ground, laying on her side with one leg raised. As the head had inched out a bit more, the assistant had finally returned with something Lexie could not see, and the midwife insisted she get in the "on all fours" position. As her large belly hung down and touched the floor, Lexie pushed, hoping and praying that this huge head moved. "AAAHHH HELP! I CAN'T DO THIS HELP!" "GET IT OUT PLEASE!" As the head emerged again, Lexie was painfully stretched open even more, despite being convinced that she could not be. Wider and wider her vagina opened, and the young midwife assistant gasped as she saw the head. "My one year old little brother isn't that big," she hissed at the primary midwife, who shushed her, though Lexie had already heard her, and her fear increased 10-fold. "I'm gonna die," she thought to herself. "I can't get it out, and I'm gonna die in childbirth!"
Lexie's thoughts were interrupted by another painful contraction and after screaming through it, the midwife addressed her. "We're going to try a vaccum delivery," he said to her gently. "I won't lie, it's going to hurt a lot, but we really have to get this baby out now, for its health as well as yours." "On the next contraction, you push hard as we pull with the vaccum." "Can you do that?" Lexie was scared, but knew in her heart this was the only way, and she nodded. She felt the pains and began pushing as she heard a loud roar from behind her, and then she was no longer aware of anything else. The pain was so bad, she did not know where she was, what position she was in, which way was up or down, or even if she was still alive. She might have been screaming, she did not know... for she could not even think! All that existed in her world was pain!
When Lexie came to herself, she was lying on the birthing bed, unable to feel nothing but soreness below her belly. Her throat was raw and scratchy from all of her screaming, and at her feet, the midwife was holding a 19 pound baby boy in his arms. "Congratulations, it's a boy," he said to the new mother as he passed her son to her. Lexie cried in relief and happiness as she took her baby, while the midwife explained that once the baby was out, Lexie had torn and had to be stitched up. They had moved her back onto the bed to do this, and Lexie had been crying the entire time, clearly in a delirious state. He apologized to her for how bad the pain was, but Lexie knew, now she could think again, that it had to be done. The entire ordeal had been torture, but as she looked down at her newborn, she admitted to herself that it had been worth it!
(Your character rolled a 5 = single baby birth)
155 notes · View notes