#Worship Medley

[naijagospel]

[AUDIO] "Ihe Ina-eme" (Worship Medley) - Min. Ossy

[AUDIO] "Ihe Ina-eme" (Worship Medley) - Min. Ossy

Music minister, Ossy Jonathan professionally known as Min. Ossy dishes out this soul-searching and soul-edifying worship masterpiece titled, “Ihe Ina-eme” (Worship Medley) which is being translated to ‘What God is Doing’. The song, recorded and produced at FelixNazy studio in Enugu, is spiritual food for all who wish to dine with the heavens. Use this very soul-catching sound unleashed from the…

[tieronecrush]

🎃 trick or treat 🎃

summary: it's halloween and joel's taking your girls trick-or-treating with you in a family costume. feeling uncomfortable in his clothes and his skin, he's on edge most of the evening but does his best to disguise it in order to not spoil the fun. back at home, when his girls lightheartedly tease him about everything he already thought about himself, you're sure to end the night showing joel exactly how you feel about him and his body.

wc: 10k (oops?)

warnings: established relationship/married, canon divergent (no outbreak, ellie & sarah are both his kids, sort of obscure with if they're both his bio kids/your kids - basically y'all are a cute lil family either way! also joel is ~40, no age mentioned for reader!), halloween, family/group costumes, DOMESTIC JOEL!!!, fluff, body insecurities, age insecurities, joel has minor sensory issues?, his kids poke fun at him, sensitive joel, SMUT. it kind of is a thing for the basically the second half, descriptions of joel's body, tummy & thigh worship, oral (m receiving), cowboy rule (for a costume), unprotected piv, lowkey sub!joel for a lil bit, reader is "giving cunt" according to bestie el, then quickly gets back to dom!joel as he gets his confidence back, joel gets that strength in an adrenaline rush that moms get lifting cars off babies but his is for chasing a nut, also, dirty talk!

a/n: my contribution to spooky season, basically at the buzzer lol. this started with me thinking how cute it would be for joel to dress up and go trick-or-treating with his kids, and ended with wanting to s*** his d*** big time. anyways, enjoy my version of halloween with joel, and thank you to @kiwisbell for screaming about this scenario with me and as always a big thanks to my sweet, sweet girlfriend @northernbluess for beta-ing!!!!

Brought on much later than the northern states, fall in Texas is not quite an impactful sight. The one thing that can’t be beaten though is the Texas sun; shining across expansive horizons all times of year, temperatures of the light shifting with the seasons. Orange evening sun stretches across the sky and seeps down in between the leaves speckled with changing colors while Joel’s truck coasts down the neighborhood street. Kids retreat from running around in the road when his car approaches, returning right back to their gameplay when he’s through. Half are dressed up, a medley mix of witches, zombies, vampires, Power Rangers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Disney Princesses, and countless outfits that he has no idea what they’re referencing.

Fibrous, white faux spiderwebs litter the front porches of the houses lining the street, Jack-O-Lanterns carved and lit up stack on the stairs or create a path along the front walkways. Some of the pumpkins’ faces are wrinkly and sagging, signs of overeagerness from when the fall season started earlier this month. A handful of scarecrows find themselves pitched in the middle of yards with hay spilling out of them, and some of the houses have turned out an expense to get those motion-sensor decorations — the ones really intended to scare the kids that will be unleashed on the neighborhood to trick-or-treat this evening.

Rolling to a stop as he turns into the asphalt driveway, throwing the truck in park, he sits in the cab for a still moment, staring at the signs of life scattered around his family’s house. Four pumpkins, gutted and showing off their faces, a family feud that reached a compromise when it was decided that yes, they would carve pumpkins but no, they would not sit to rot on the front porch all month long; the corn stalks wrapped around the posts of the porch, tied with burlap twine and arranged with sprigs of fall foliage; pots of colorful mums framing the path up to the house, carefully selected by your eye and less delicately planted in their terracotta vessels by Joel’s hands. 

Aside from the seasonal decorations, the usual markings of the Miller family were easily spotted: chalk drawings on the shared sidewalk in front of the yard and along the driveway, replaced every weekend by Sarah once the old was washed or worn away; Ellie’s bike discarded on the front lawn, small tire tracks digging up the grass, no matter how many times Joel and you have asked her to put it away when she’s done; the porch swing that Joel built for you, swaying in the breeze and now unoccupied — unusual for the evening routine around the time that Joel comes home from work. He’s normally greeted by his girls, not merely their artifacts. But tonight is a different night, much busier than the slow, molasses life Joel gets to enjoy in the colder weather.

Gathering his lunch bag from the bench seat and bunching up his jacket in the same hand, Joel climbs out of the car and walks into the open garage, leaving his tools behind in the flatbed to be dealt with tomorrow morning. Passing your parked car, he shakes his head with a subtle smile as he closes the driver’s side door of your SUV left open. He can picture you now, running around after picking the girls up from school, mental space occupied by getting everything and everyone together to make it out the door before the sun went down completely. 

There’s a trail of evidence to support his musings: a lonesome plastic bag filled with groceries left on top of the car, Sarah’s purple jacket looped through the handle of the garage fridge, probably left behind after she went looking for a juice, and Ellie’s army green backpack tossed on the ground in front of the shoe racks lining the wall next to the door. None of that would fly had you been your usual focused self — more often than not, you’re the parent to put their foot down and keep the girls in line while Joel is the total pushover.

Along his way inside, he picks up all the left-behind items, balancing everything in his hands while he steps into the mudroom. Ellie’s backpack gets shoved into her designated cubby, and Sarah’s jacket gets wrapped on a hook screwed into the wall as Joel kicks off his work boots. After depositing his own belongings in their spots, lunch bag in his cubby and jacket on the hook next to Sarah’s, he grabs his boots in one hand, leaning out the doorway to place them on top of the shoe rack. Closing the door behind him, he picks up the singular bag of groceries left on top of your SUV and pads across the tile further into the house. Immediately, he’s embraced by the warmth radiating from the kitchen, the smells of tomatoes, onions, garlic, and more wafting into his nose causing a smile to stretch across his face and his stomach to rumble. 

Every year that he’s known you, without fail, you use Halloween night as an excuse to cook up your family-favorite chili recipe. Sure, it doesn’t get too cold for October in Texas, but damn, does he look forward to the night every year simply for a bowl of it. Laboring over the prep and slow-cooking it all day long, anyone who tries it can taste the care in each bite; like a warm blanket wrapped around his shoulders that lasts with him for the entire evening spent outside with the kids.

The pleas of his stomach lead him straight into the kitchen, his smile growing wider when he sees you standing over the kitchen counter, affixing a sheriff badge to the cow print vest laid out in front of you. He strides over to your side, resting his palm on your lower back and swiping his thumb against the material of your shirt while he leans in to press a kiss to the top of your head, drinking in your scent and feeling the ache of missing you all day. Losing focus from your task, you turn toward him with a bright smile, a quiet sigh leaving your lips, and your shoulders relaxing from their tensed position. Wordlessly, he folds forward, catching your lips in a lingering kiss. Heat pushes against his chest through his denim shirt, your hands skating from his pecs, up and across his shoulders, and down his arms to rest on his biceps. The motions raise goosebumps in their wake, trailing down his spine with a tepid drip.

Joel steals another kiss before he stands up straight again, voice rasping from yelling over powerful tools all day and volume low to keep the semblance of a private moment between the two of you for as long as possible; anything louder would expose his arrival, bombarding him with questions and conflicts to resolve between his daughters.

“Hey, baby.” He greets you with one fleeting kiss pressed to your forehead, hand at your lower back now rubbing side to side, fingers carefully lifting the fabric and pressing the tips of them into your deliciously soft skin. 

Turning back to the vest, you drop your hands from his arms not before giving them a gentle squeeze, “Hi, Joel. Good day?”

He shrugs, unable to step away from you just yet, “It was fine — much better now. And I take it yours has been a busy one?”

Joel holds up the plastic bag of groceries with two fingers, one corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing smirk. His hip pops out as he leans against the counter, the smirk turning into a smile when you grimace. His heartbeat skips when your laugh fills his ears, the sound still exciting him after all these years, and you stand over the bag to take a peek inside.

“S’all good. Non-perishables.” It’s Joel’s turn to laugh, shaking his head with a breathy chuckle as he places the bag on the counter, unloading its contents into the pantry while you go about recapping your day for him.

In the midst of you speaking, the tumble of footsteps down the stairs draws his attention away, eyes focusing on the open threshold that leads from the living room into the kitchen. As the quickened steps grow closer, Joel turns to you and holds up three fingers, counting down with them. When he lowers his last finger, a mop of curly hair, a bouncing ponytail, and a whirlwind of chaos disrupts the initial peace of his return home.

“Hi girls, how was today?” he starts before a cacophony of noise fills the kitchen. Skidding to a stop in front of him, he exchanges a look with you before facing his daughters, already overwhelmed with their two voices talking over the other.

“Dad, Dad, Sarah said—”

“Dad, Ellie’s saying that I said—”

Holding his hands up, he flicks his eyes between his two girls. Sarah, the older of the two at eleven years old, stands in front of him with her arms crossed and brow furrowed — a look he is all too familiar with, the similarities between him and her emphasized with her annoyance. Ellie, your youngest, stands with her fists clenched at her sides, her mouth twisted up in frustration and the same furrowed brow as her sister. She looks so much more like you at the moment, only a nine-year-old version, calling back on times Joel can remember of you giving him that very look.

However, with their tempers, there’s no doubt that they’re his kids.

Dropping his hands back to his sides, he rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath before addressing them.

“So, what’s going on now?” he asks, brows raising and head tilting when the girls each take a sharp inhale, about to speak over each other again, “One at a time. Ellie.”

Sarah rolls her eyes at her younger sister being called upon first, expectantly looking at her sister with annoyance still painting her face. Ellie shoots her a smug look before turning back to Joel, drawing a pout onto her lips to sell her story. He can’t say it doesn’t work for a second, it always will with these two and they know it, but with a quick glance in your direction, he sees you turned away from your task, watching the drama from the sidelines. Mustering the strength to stand his ground against the sweetness of his girls, he clears his throat and listens with his best poker face as Ellie begins explaining.

“Sarah said she wouldn’t trade all her Skittles for my Three Musketeers even though she knows I hate Three Musketeers and she said last week when we were getting our costumes that she would—”

“I never said that, Dad! She’s lying—” Sarah gestures with her hands as if to physically point out the obvious falsehoods in Ellie’s story. Spiraling back out of the fleeting control he had over the situation, the kids get riled up again, yelling over each other, and inching closer. The dad-instincts kick in and he grabs one of each of their shoulders, separating the two of them and turning them to face him again as he puts on what you affectionately call his ‘no-bullshit’ voice.

“Okay, okay, okay! Enough arguin’ about candy that you don’t even have yet. Ellie, you don’t even know if a single house is gonna give ya Three Musketeers, and you don’t even know if Sarah is gonna get any Skittles. Save the trade negotiations for tonight or tomorrow morning. ‘Sides, you gotta pay the Dad Tax before either of y’all get to trade around your pickings.”

“What?”

“No way!”

Joel smiles, waving his pointer finger between his daughters with a single nod of his head. “See? Something y’all can agree on. Now go get washed up for dinner and plot how you can hide your candy from me and Mom.”

As quickly as they came in, they rush right back out, this time a united force scheming against their parents. Joel huffs out a breathy laugh, shaking his head to himself as he turns back to face you. Met with a growing smile, you unravel your arms crossed in front of your chest to pick up the vest from the counter.

“Nice conflict resolution there, hon. Now I won’t see a single piece of candy.” You throw a pout at him, bottom lip jutting out as he steps over to you, one hand splaying on your hip and thumb rubbing languid circles.

“Don’t worry, baby, I think I know every single one of their hiding spots from how many times they had to move their candy last year. They won’t even notice anything's gone.” With a quick wink, he leans in for a kiss, short and sweet. Standing up straight, the smile on your face mirrors his, your left index finger reaching up to fit into the valley of his dimple.

“Are we bad parents to be scheming how to steal from our children?” you question, biting back a laugh.

“I think that’s just part of parenting, darlin’.”

The laugh you held back escapes you, rolling your eyes playfully at his facetious answer; the vest in your hands catches his eyes again, and he sighs to himself as he holds a hand out for it.

“So you really did find a cow print vest for me? How lucky.” Sarcasm coats his tone and you lift the material, depositing it in his open palm.

“It is lucky, isn’t it? I think you’re going to look great in your costume. Got all the perfect parts, plus you can wear your own jeans and boots. Economical.”

“You sure you need me for this group costume?”

“Joel. You’re literally one of the main characters from the damn movie. And the girls really want you to dress up and take them trick-or-treating. Plus it’s probably going to be one of, if not the last year that we get to do all this as a family. Our kids are growing up.”

“Don’t remind me, means m’getting older too,” he grumbles under his breath, eyes falling to the fabric in his hand.

It’s true what they say about having kids: the days are long, but the years are short.

At times, Joel wishes he could pull each hair out of his head instead of dealing with the shit his kids bring to him sometimes — “Dad, I got called into the principal’s office.” “Dad, I threw a softball and broke the window.” “That’s so unfair, Dad! Why do you have to be so mean?” It’s easy to get lost in the mess that is his family, but it’s a mess he loves. It feels like it was only yesterday that he was becoming a father when Sarah was born, getting a grasp on the whole thing and then Ellie came along. What he would do without you there by his side, he doesn’t have a clue.

Like flipping through a scrapbook, he can remember every year prior for his girls. In a flash, they’ve grown from dressing up as princesses and unicorns — a dragon for Ellie — to being Spy Kids and vampires. His oldest is verging on becoming a teenager, and if he knows his daughters, he knows that once Sarah quits dressing up each year, when she asks to go to her friends’ houses instead of spending the night with Mom and Dad, Ellie will want to do the same as her older sister, always looking up to her despite their differences.

There’s only so much more time for his kids to be kids, even if they may always feel like the tiny baby girls he held in his arms. All he wants to do is to protect them, keep them under his eye as long as he can, but he can hear your voice prying his grasp away from them, encouraging him to let them grow, let them experience the world as he got to do when he was younger. You’ll remind him that you were a teenage girl once, reassuring him that they’re always going to need him. He knows it’s all going to sneak up on him; one day, he’s going to pull into the driveway and notice the lack of chalk drawings. He might even be happy at first about Ellie’s bike being put away, but when he goes into the garage to work on some of his projects, he’ll notice the smallest bit of dust on it from disuse.

Stepping away from him to shuffle across the kitchen, you reach on your tiptoes to pull out four bowls from the cabinet. Joel steps over behind you, a hand on your back as he intercepts your movements, grabbing the ceramic dishes and handing them to you.

Like a shadow, he follows behind you as you walk over to the pot filled with dinner, eagerly watching over your shoulder with his chest pressed against your back and hands on your waist as you lift the lift. Aromas waft with the steam rising, the delectably rich dish slowly bubbling as it finishes melding altogether. It smells like home, always the mark of the changing of the seasons in the Miller household, and one of the little traditions that he so appreciates you creating for your family. Just like the way you make crinkle cookies and still sign presents from Santa at Christmas, despite the fact that your daughters found out about that a couple of years ago from a yappy kid at school.

Joel was very close to driving over to his house and letting his parents know how he felt about their kid murdering the magic of Christmas for his girls.

All he can hope is that these little traditions continue even when the girls are grown up; the four of you gathering around the table for your annual chili dinner before they head off to hang out with friends and you two are left to watch cheesy Halloween movies and hand out candy to children that remind you of your daughters.

With another deep breath, warmth surrounds him. Joel’s lips find the spot just under your ear, kissing gently before he rests his chin on your shoulder, “Smells so good, baby. Have I told you how much I love you?”

A breathy, incredulous laugh falls from your lips as you stir the pot’s contents around, your smile sticking around as you counter, “You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m feeding you.”

A dramatic, exaggerated gasp sharply inhales into his lungs, standing up straight and patting his hands on your sides, “Absolutely not, darlin’. I love you all the time—”

“But especially when I feed you,” you finish, turning out of his arms to grab the stack of bowls. He stops your motions by wrapping his arms around your waist, feeling the press of you against his torso and relishing in the heat of your body against his. Curling up like a cat in the sun, he nudges his nose against your hairline, peppering kisses along the contours of your face.

In between kisses, he says word by word, over and over, “I. Love. You. My. Beautiful. Wonderful. Incredible. Wife.”

“Alright, alright! Gosh, you’re clingy,” you tease, leaning back to look into his eyes with a playful glint in your eye and a smirk held tight in your lips, “I love you too, my beautiful, wonderful, incredible husband.”

Your free hand smooshes his cheeks together and tugs him down gently to exchange a tender kiss. It ends much too soon for Joel, him chasing your lips and pouting when you turn away to start serving up dinner.

“Better go tell the girls dinner’s ready before they’ve finished plotting how to stow away candy in the floorboards.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, punctuating the conversation with a cheeky smack to your ass, scampering away quickly before you can pretend to scold him.

Tugging at the material across his stomach, Joel combs his eyes over his reflection in the mirror of your en-suite bathroom. Rolling his shoulders back, the fabric of the yellow and red plaid flannel pulled taut, lifting the hem a couple of inches and showing off the skin of his softened tummy. Dark curls of hair litter the center of the sliver of skin, trailing down under the waist of his dark wash jeans. He doesn’t bother tucking the shirt in, giving himself the breathing room of the few inches at the hem. Fingers grip the thick fabric, sharply pulling it back down to lay over his jeans again.

Picking up the cow-print vest you were adorned with the plastic gold Sheriff badge downstairs in the kitchen, he’s taken back to a few weeks ago at the Halloween store.

You and he had opted to spend Saturday morning taking Sarah and Ellie to pick out their costumes for the holiday, letting them run free until they decided on a shared costume for once. Sarah quickly picked out her size in the Jessie costume, and all of the family agreed to be different characters from the Toy Story movie.

Ellie wandered the aisles, searching for the perfect combinations to create her ideal costume, which was, of course, the mechanical spider toy with the baby doll head that the kid Sid builds in the film. She returns to where Joel is standing with you, staring at the walls of costumes to find something for the both of you; he looks down at his youngest, jumping minutely when he’s faced with a mutilated baby doll mask, shiny plastic reflecting him in the surface.

“Ellie. You can’t be the creepy baby doll,” he sighs, hand falling to his hip as he rests his weight on it, the other leg stepping out while he slowly shakes his head.

Tipping the mask up to the top of her head, Ellie stomps her feet, shoulders falling and head leaning back as she groans in complaint, “Why not, Dad?” She draws out his parental title, kicking the toe of her shoe against the buffed tiles of the storefront that remains empty eleven out of twelve months of the year.

“You’re gonna scare the little kids, and it’ll be your mom and I who are dealing with the angry parents.”

Ellie huffs out a breath, reaching up to snatch the mask off, turning on the heel of her sneaker, and stomping off to go find another costume. Turning his attention back to you at his side, he notices a cheeky smile on your face as you find your size in a woman’s Buzz Lightyear costume.

“What? What are you laughin’ at?” he questions, his lips tugging up in a grin.

“Oh, nothing. Jus’ that you told our daughter she can’t be the creepy baby doll 'cause you’d be the one scared of her.” A laugh takes over the end of your sentence, a flash of your bright smile widening his own.

“Did not. It’s ‘cause we’d have a bunch of crying little kids and judging parents to deal with.”

“Sure, honey, sure. It’s okay if you’re scared.”

Stepping closer to you, he pinches your side playfully, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you against his side. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, speaking softly, “Know me too well, baby…”

Your free hand pats his chest affectionately and you unravel from his hold. Joel takes your hand before you get far, intertwining your fingers together while you both shuffle along the wall of costumes. The plastic bags shine, displaying cartoonish outfits of various characters. The exaggerated smiles of the models give him the heebie-jeebies, shuddering his shoulders at the thought that any grown person would be that excited to wear itchy polyester once before letting it collect dust in their closet and giving it away before next Halloween.

Halting in front of the costume you were looking for Joel, you bend down to flick through the sizes, your lips pulling together in a thoughtful pucker. Standing back up straight next to him, your teeth toy your bottom lip left to right, eyes scanning for any other options before you turn toward him.

“Can’t find what you’re lookin’ for, baby?”

With a shrug, you respond, “They have the costume the girls wanted you to wear, but they don’t have your size. Think I can find some stuff at the thrift store or TJ Maxx or online to make the costume up if that’s okay—”

“Whatever you need to do. S’fine.”

“I’m sorry, hon, but you don’t need to worry about it, I’ll find everything.”

“Said s’fine, darlin’. Don’t even need to dress up, really.” A small seed of shame is planted in his gut, insecurity watering it and causing it to grow, branching off to tangled in his chest. Comfort eases him out of the spiral when your hands find his chest, rubbing softly and tilting your head to meet his gaze with pure affection.

“Still gotta dress up with us, hon. Who’s gonna be the Woody to my Buzz if it isn’t you? Can’t dress up as one half of the best friend duo without my best friend,” you grin, standing on your toes to catch his lips in a gentle kiss, which ends too soon for his taste despite being in the middle of the shop.

Vest shrugged onto his shoulder, and he gives himself another once over in his full outfit, the same insecurity from a few weeks ago pouring down to cultivate his shame. He doesn’t look the same as he did when he met you, even the same as he did last year. Graying hair and salt and pepper beard, lines next to his eyes and across his forehead, only deepened when he furrows his brow at the look of him in his costume.

He looks ridiculous.

Better to get this night over with, let his girls enjoy themselves, and attempt to forget his discomfort in the outfit. Picking up his cheap cowboy hat that arrived in the mail earlier that week, he avoids another look in the mirror before he slips out of the bathroom, eyes focused on the toes of his boots while he walks out the door of your bedroom, past the full-length mirror next to your closet and the small round one on your vanity.

No need to foul his mood and spoil the fun. It’s for his girls. 

The screams and laughter of children echo into the deepening night sky, the street bright from the lamps lining it along with porch lights staying on, open garage doors, all signaling a welcoming to the trick-or-treaters to come and grab their haul from each vast bowl or cauldron of candy.

Blurs of costume cross below Joel’s sightline as he walks hand-in-hand with you, kids running around blindly, the safety of such a crowd in the small neighborhood blanketing them with trust that they’ll be able to find their way home wherever they end up. Sarah and Ellie are ten paces ahead, moving quickly and efficiently to “maximize their candy collection”. Ellie’s words, after she presented her hand-drawn map of their neighborhood and the one across the main road, highlighting which houses are notorious for King Size treats and noting which ones give out toothbrushes or nothing at all.

The collar of his flannel is tightened around his neck from the string of his chestnut cowboy hat. Pulled down to rest on his clavicle, the body of the hat swings against his back as he walks, only adorning the top of his head for a few photos that you insisted on dragging out the tripod and self-timer for in the middle of the living room. He took the rest of the photos you wanted, maybe a bit too eagerly getting out of the frame and relaxing the slightest bit behind the camera. Photo evidence of how laughable he looks does not need to exist en masse. With a sigh, he reaches a hand up to tug the string down for what feels like the tenth time in thirty minutes of walking, relief felt for a few seconds before it slides back up to the base of his throat, flipping up the collar of his shirt with it.

Denim from his dark wash bootcut jeans starts to dig into his hips, roughening the skin there from his strides and their inch-too-small size from the year prior. These were deemed his “nice” jeans, per your request, only pulled out a handful of times a year for occasions that he was meant to look nicer than his raggedy Levi’s, covered in spots from paint, wood stain, oil, or dirt, the fraying, white strings hanging from the hems and ripping when caught under his step — all the signs of his day-to-day life. What he’s comfortable in.

These — these are not comfortable, not worn in enough to feel buttery against his skin, and not returning to his size even after washing and line drying. These are stiff, formed to his skin and resisting a tightness with each swing of his legs. The fresh material rubs against his bare skin underneath, the waist of his boxers falling an inch or two down to create the perfect space for the waistband to chafe. He’s tempted to pause the two of you walking along, long enough to tuck in the material of the flannel, but quickly decides against it when he thinks about the exaggeration of his stomach with the form-fitting, tucked shirt stretched over it.

Occupied in his thoughts, he barely notices that you've slowed down until you come to a stop at the end of a driveway, two streets over from your own home, waiting as your daughters wait in line for their packaged sugar. 

You hold onto his bicep with your opposite hand, leaning your weight against his side. Like a weighted blanket, in the interim of a hug from you, he takes on the change to his equilibrium, relishing in the comforting press of your body against him. Easing away his anxieties and his insecurities that, of course, had to be present for this wholesome, once-a-year family night; he rests his chin on your head, breathing in the smell of your rosemary and mint shampoo, tingling his nostrils and drinking down the scent he’s so familiar with.

His focus draws to Sarah, hair in a French braid pulled away from her face and cherry red cowboy hat on her head, and Ellie, lime green face paint that she insisted on and an antenna sticking up from the top of her head and exaggerated, pointed green ears all attached to the same headband. The two of them are near the front of the queue for candy at this particular house, the process a bit more involved with a haunted graveyard required to pass through to earn your sweet reward. 

All she’d been saying the whole night since getting dressed had been “The claaaaaw!” or “I have been chosen!”. She screams the latter in the face of a teenager who pops out from a bush to scare her, completely unphased as she sneaks past him, grabbing a handful of candy for her and Sarah, running back down the path with her older sister before they pause to distribute the goods.

Joel lifts your joined hands, hooking his arm over your shoulder and laying your arm across your chest as he gathers you closer.

“So how many cavities do you think we’ll be paying for ‘cause of tonight’s candy haul?” he wonders aloud, a smile ticking up the side of his mouth when you giggle at his joke. It never gets old, being able to make you laugh, and it’s like a weed whacker to the strangling vines of his insecurities growing tightly in his chest. A looseness that gives him the chance for a deep breath, gratitude wilting the branches as he studies the grin on your face, the admiration twinkling in your eyes.

“Probably should be callin’ the dentist to see if they have a two-for-one discount.” It’s his turn to laugh at your response, tautening his arm around your shoulders to tow you closer to him, your head tilting back as you swing your front toward him. Joel bends his neck, pecking your lips with a smile before he looks back toward his daughters walking back to the two of you.

Annoyance thumbs the bruise of shame, driving his frustrations higher; his hand reaches up again with a huff, yanking the string away from his neck, “Thing’s like a damn noose…”

“Jus’ take it off, hon, I’ll carry it for you,” you sweetly suggest, swinging your joined hands between your bodies.

“But, you got it for me…” he mumbles guiltily, a worry in his voice over your potential irritation with him. Ever the masochist, Joel argues with you, not wanting to disappoint. He knew he should have just kept his mouth shut—

Pausing in your steps, you hang behind him long enough to snatch the hat off his back, releasing it from around his neck and depositing it on your head in one smooth movement. Taking his hand again, you continue, unphased by his complaints and happy to hold onto the new accessory.

At the next house, the two of you wait at the end of the driveway for the girls; Joel taps the side of his pointer finger on the brim as you look up at him, a cheeky smile growing on his face as a thought distracts from his festering doubts. His voice lowers, rasping as he speaks only to you, attempting to disguise the conversation from all the people milling about.

“Y’know, there are consequences for stealing a cowboy’s hat, baby.” Wetting his lips with the quick swipe of his tongue, his hands drift to your waist, fingers stretching to skim the top of your ass, dangerously close to grabbing a handful in front of everyone.

“M’well aware of those consequences, cowboy. Why d’you think I took it?” You shoot him a wink that goes straight down below the belt, a brazen flash of mischief in your eyes, the reflections of yellow lamplight lighting them up further. 

Gripping his biceps, your nimble fingers squeeze gently while your thumbs rub massaging circles into his slightly flexed muscles. A nearly inaudible hum of a moan rolls from your chest, one of his hands gathering the polyester material of your dress tightly at the sound. Beckoning him to fold forward with one look, he molds his lips to yours in a supple kiss. It lasts only the length of an inhale, drinking in the taste of your lips before your warmth is fleeting, hands patting his chest in a signal to wrap it up.

He grumbles, irritation heating under his collar as he itches to get home and for the night to be over, now for more than one reason. You laugh softly at his annoyed pout, poking his chest as you tease, “What? Mad ‘cause you got a snake in your boot?”

“More like in my jeans…” he mumbles under his breath, loud enough for you to hear and playfully jab his arm, shaking your head as you breathe out a chuckle from your nose.

“Nice, Miller. In a costume for a kid’s movie no less.”

He matches your laugh, shrugging when you turn in his arms, back to him as you await your daughters to make their way back to the both of you. His arms drape around your hips, tugging you into his chest to press against him comfortably, the plush-filled wings of your costume padding you against his torso. Lips find your ear, chin resting on your shoulder as he responds, “What’s the saying from the movie? To infinity and beyond? Reckon that’s where I’ll be takin’ you by the end of tonight.”

“Joel!” you attempted to chide, your laughter exposing your real feelings over the suggestive comment, laying your arms over his. The girls walk toward the two of you, and he takes a second to press an open-mouth kiss to your neck, nipping at your skin before unfurling himself from you. A light smack on the side of your ass is the punctuation to the teasing, Joel standing up straight and taking your hand.

“Giddy-up, partner,” he murmurs before turning his attention to Sarah and Ellie, overly excited and completely calm. “Whatcha y’all get this time? Anything good?”

They answer over each other and he nods along, corralling them to start to walk to the next house, “Alright, mission accomplished at this house. Onto the next, we gotta get this wagon a-movin’! Only got another hour in me, girls.”

Protests whine against his announcement and your daughters start to walk faster, determined to complete their hit-list for the houses with the good stuff. You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as Joel looks over at you, feigning innocence.

“What? Got a bad back, bein’ out in the cold makes it worse.”

Now back at home, the four of you are gathered in the living room, costumes all on still as you seek out the comfort and warmth of the soft furnishings and blankets. Joel lounges on the couch, you next to him, back leaning against his side while your legs stretch out on the rest of the sofa. Ellie and Sarah have taken to the floor in front of the coffee table, massive pillowcases dumped out and beginning to be sorted. Every so often, you or Joel get up with the sound of the doorbell, passing out candy to the dwindling number of trick-or-treaters. Eventually, the intrusion stops completely, the TV playing a bad, kitschy Halloween movie per the request of the girls.

They trade their earnings, and you and Joel steal on the sly, both from the bowl you were handing out and from Sarah and Ellie’s piles. Wrappers are strewn around the floor and across the surface of the coffee table, the sound of another torn open by the girls making you sigh and sit up.

Holding out your hand, you shake your head, beckoning for the treat with your fingers, “Okay, Ellie. No more candy. You’re not going to be able to go to sleep if you keep eating it now, it’s too late.”

Ellie whines, rolling her head back with a groan before pleading her case, “Please, Mom, just this last one! And then I’ll be done, promise. Please.”

Joel chuckles when she shoots you the same puppy dog eyes that he gives to you to get what he wants, knowing his smirk grows wider when you fold easily. Shooting your head over to him, you announce to the whole room, “No more candy for anyone. C’mon girls, put it all back in your bags.” 

Calmness finds itself back in the room once all the complaints are lodged with you, the girls lying down to watch the movie while you continue to sit with Joel. Spaced out as he focuses on the film, his attention is grabbed when he hears the crinkle of wrappers and glances around to find all three of his girls indulging further.

With the remote from his lap, he pauses the movie, pouting as he exclaims, “Hey! What happened to not havin’ any more candy? If I can’t have anymore, y’all can’t either.”

Sneaking the last bite of her fun-size Snickers bar, Ellie giggles and shrugs, always the smart aleck, “Well, you are gettin’ a little pudgy, Dad, maybe less candy’ll help.”

Sarah and you giggle at her lighthearted teasing, and Joel waves it off with a breathy chuckle, leaning back against the cushions as Sarah chimes in with her jests, “Yeah, think you’re getting a little fluffy, Dad. Better to lay off now than at Christmastime with all Mom’s cookies.”

Joel attempts to defend himself from the teasing by threatening their candy supply, eager to end the conversation as the back of his neck heats up, “If m’already gettin’ pudgy then I guess that permits me to eat all your candy.”

They both are in a fit of giggles, continuing to tack on silly comments as Joel sits quietly on the couch, trying to mask the way the words worm their way in, feeding the shame and insecurity that was already festering in his chest from the last few weeks.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head with a smile as you laugh softly, “Alright, alright, enough. Think that’s the sign that it’s time for bed. C’mon, up up up.” Before standing, you pat Joel’s thigh and shoot him a carefully concerned look, but he wipes away your worry by sending you a warm smile back, laying his hand over yours and squeezing gently. 

Joel stays downstairs to clean up, the girls both saying goodnight before you follow them upstairs to get them ready for bed. Gathering candy wrappers in his fists, he throws them away in the kitchen, stomach rolling as he replays the small comments from minutes ago. He knows it was teasing, all in good fun as it always is between his girls and you, but he can’t shake the heaviness inside of him, the hot prickles of shame when he passes by the mirror in the hallway on his way back to the living room.

The bowl of extra candy you were handing out gets placed back on the coffee table, his silly cowboy hat from the evening deposited on top of it to hide the contents. Not that he was going to eat anymore, he couldn’t stomach even the thought of anything else when all he could think about was how much he desperately wanted to shed his skin at that moment. Breathing shallows when he settles on the couch again, one of his hands pressing onto the left side of his chest and willing his heart to slow down, for his brain to silence itself.

The skin of his palm meets the scruff of his beard, scratching against the roughened, worked skin. Grays in his hair, salt and pepper beard, wrinkles on his forehead and at the side of his eyes, softened tummy from years of love and care, from an easy life with you.

He certainly isn’t the same Joel that you met all that time ago, that you fell in love with. Have you noticed the changes as much as he has?

He swears you haven’t aged a day; all the more beautiful with each passing day.

Light steps carry you back downstairs, the sound shaking Joel out of his thoughts as you swing around from the staircase and through the entrance to the living room. Joel relaxes on the couch, the same spot he was occupying before, only sinking further into the cushion, shifting to pull the fabric of his shirt away from his stomach. Glancing up at you, away from whatever was playing on the TV that did nothing to distract him from himself, he sends you a tight smile, stretching an arm over the back of the couch to welcome you in.

Accepting it, you sit next to him, curling up into his side with your legs under you, leaning against his frame with your comforting weight. Your hand rests on his chest, your head on his shoulder while you both watch the TV movie playing. Silence falls between the two of you, minutes passing by with only the noise from the speakers, the volume turned low so as not to disturb the kids upstairs.

Joel feels your hand move against his chest, curling up to leave your pointer finger extended, the pad of it skimming against his flannel. He ignores the feeling, figuring it’s you fidgeting as you do while you focus. The same thing as twirling your hair while you’re reading, tapping your foot as you cook.

But when your hand stairs to wander, his eyes flick down to watch its path, your gaze still facing forward and quiet. With your thumb and index finger, you work open the first button on his shirt, trailing down with the rest undone in your route. Slipping under the material, your cold hand presses against his chest, nails scraping against the skin there. With a sigh at the contact, Joel finally uses his hand to gently caress your chin, turning you to face him.

Low and rasping, he questions, “What are you doin’ exactly, darlin’?”

Innocently, you shrug, bottom lip bit down on while your touch moves lower again, skimming across his stomach and reaching the waistband of his jeans, “Well, I still have to face the consequences from stealin’ your hat, cowboy.”

Fingers dip below his belt line, toying with the elastic band of his boxers. Slipping away, he almost protests at the loss, biting his tongue when you move next to him, sitting up on your knees while both hands reach for the button and zipper of his jeans. When his button pops from its secure place, he warns with a breathy exhale, “Baby…”

“Mhm, yes, honey?” you reply, words trailing up at the end, feigning naivety. Through your lashes, you send him a pout, tongue poking out to dampen your plush lips that he stares at, his mouth parted with heavy breaths. His blood is rushing from his head, leaving him feeling light, as it all pumps to his cock, your delicate and teasing touches getting him half-hard.

Before you can tug down his zipper, you pause, taking your hands off of him; he holds back a whimper, the sound dying as a low hum in his throat.

“Don’t worry, baby, m’not done yet. Let’s go to our room, yeah?” Your voice is soothingly saccharine, an eager nod being his only response. 

Shutting off the TV, you stand from the sofa and take his hand, snatching the cowboy hat from the coffee table before pulling him to stand and follow you across the main floor, down the hallway into your first-floor bedroom. Joel shuts the door behind him, your nod toward the handle serving as a reminder for him to flick the lock.

 “Y’know, honey, you’re always showing me how you feel about me. I think it’s time we had a night that’s all about you…” He’s holding in a breath as you stalk closer to him, shaking his head as the back of his neck heats up.

“No, baby, you don’t—I don’t…” he stutters before trailing off, ashamed that he can’t think of any other excuse than the truth of why he does not want the attention on him tonight.

“You don’t…?” Running your hands across the expanse of his chest, he drops his shoulders in, curling around to make himself smaller, one foot stepping back but he doesn’t move from under your touch.

Shaking his head, he avoids your eyes, faintly confiding, “I don’t feel like I deserve it. I jus’, I’d rather give to you, baby.”

“Oh, Joel…you deserve it and more, honey. Why wouldn’t you?” Your fingers graze up, skating across his skin and carding into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’m not…not the same. I don’t look like who you fell in love with. Everything’s changing, catching up to me. Got gray hair and white in my beard and wrinkles and a beer belly startin’ and my back hurts all the time. M’not who I used to be but you—”

“Have changed, too. It’s not just you, Joel. Everything’s a little softer now, I’ve got wrinkles too. Found like four gray hairs yesterday and had a mild panic attack before I got into the shower. M’curvier and—”

“And you’re fucking beautiful, baby. You’re as beautiful, if not more beautiful than the day I met you.” He’s quick to defend your negative self-talk, his hands running delicately along the curves of your sides and around your lower back. Enveloping you in his arms, he presses your foreheads together, nose notched next to yours.

“That’s exactly how I feel about you, Joel. Don’t listen to us teasin’ you, especially me, ‘cause I wouldn’t change a thing about you…” As you tilt your head back, your nose grazes against his cheek, feeling a rush of heat from your breath as your lips hover over his, deliciously close to a kiss, “Can I show you what I think about you, honey?”

Joel nods, wordlessly waiting in anticipation; in the next breath, your lips crash into his, drinking him down deep while the hand at the back of his head tangles further into his hair and tugs. He moans, parted lips allowing you to lick into his mouth, whining at the taste of him before you push the flannel material from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor as you continue to dominate the kiss.

Pressing your hands against his strong chest, you push him back with a step. Joel follows your lead, carefully moving backward, your tongue melding with his. All he can focus on is the taste of you — sweet, fruity, with the tang of citric acid from all the sour candies you stole from the bowl, the softest hint of chocolate as an aftertaste from his indulgences. The flavors of you coat his mouth, the scent of your perfume and shampoo mixing in his nose, and the feeling of your soft skin in his rough palms when he hikes up the skirt of your dress, grabbing a handful of your ass; it all stirs together, creating an intoxicating cocktail of you that he can seem to taste enough of. Joel’s legs hit the edge of the bed, and he’s being pulled away from your mouth with a pop when you ease him to sit down. Curiosity flashes in his mind, the sight of you over him with kiss-swollen lips growing the bulge in his undone jeans. Eager hands find your hips, grazing over to your ass as he looks up at you standing over him.

“Whatcha wanna do, beautiful?” His voice is lecherous as it comes out in a rasp, dripping with desire and a bit of wonder over what exactly you’re going to do with your night in control.

You shake your head at him, standing up straight and reaching for his hands, placing them at the hem of your dress, “Go ahead, baby. Take off as much as you want.”

His choice is obvious, tugging the fabric over your head with your help, a hand around your back yanking you to stand close, between his spread legs, while his fingers work open the clasp of your bra. Sitting back on his hands, he observes greedily as you let the straps fall down your arms, dropping the bra entirely onto the floor.

“These too?” Your thumbs hook into the waistline of your panties, doe-eyed and biting down on your body lip teasingly. Cotton-mouthed, Joel nods slowly, lips parted with shaking breath as you strip completely, sinking to your knees in front of him before he can reach out for a handful of your curves.

He lets you work his jeans down to his thighs, his boxers following in their wake, his cock springing free against his bare stomach. You keep eye contact as you kneel in front of him, his keen stare unblinking as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips, the need to see every single one of your movements outweighing the drying of his eyes with his slow, infrequent blinking. Scooting to settle comfortably on your knees, you stand up straighter, gaining enough height to bend your head over his lap, lips meeting his soft tummy and hands gripping onto his thighs. Delicate kisses and ghosting touches on his skin raise goosebumps, a warm shudder trickling down his back at your tenderness.

“So handsome…” you whisper, grazing your teeth into the flesh of his torso, biting down to nip. “Y’know I think about doin’ this all the time, baby. Every time you take off your shirt, jus’ wanna sink my teeth into you.”

His cheeks heat with sincere attention, muscles in his abdomen flexing when you litter lovebites and heated, open-mouth kisses all over him, the gentle touches and desire to relax his anxieties slowly. The focus on your mouth drops to his thighs, turning your head to the side when you sit back on your haunches, licking a stripe up toward his aching cock, a quivering exhale from his mouth drawing your eyes to his face. A satisfied smile stretches across your face, kissing his inner thigh before mirroring the actions on the opposite side. His fingers curl into the duvet, gripping hard as your lips wander closer to where his stiff cock drips needily, throbbing for any kind of reprieve.

“You’re so pretty, baby. So strong, solid.” The sweet nothings tickle at the back of his neck, words that he’s sure you’ve spoken before, but at this moment, they raise his body temperature and lighten his head, the only thoughts being how much he needs you.

Standing on your knees again, you bend your neck over Joel’s lap, eyes flickering up to his face to look at him through your lashes. Your lips part, spit dribbling from your mouth and onto his waiting cock, the sensation making him hiss with urgency. One of your hands wraps around him and strokes slowly. He looks down at you with hooded eyes, mouth opening in a small gasp at the languid stimulation. One swipe of your thumb across his tip drags the beads of pre-cum from where they’re leaking, melting them into the mix of your saliva that lubricates your motions.

Searing needles pierce into his skin when you finally give in and press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the soft skin of his swollen length. Your thumb brushes against his tip again, another hiss of pleasure escaping from between his teeth. One of Joel’s hands finds the back of your head, tangling fingers into your hair. He doesn’t move to guide you, simply wanting to touch a part of you to ground himself.

Your free hand gently cups his balls as you press a featherlight kiss to the tip of his hard cock. A kitten-lick swipes up the fresh dribbles of pre-cum that have collected and Joel’s fingers tense against your strands. Humming satisfied with the reactions you’re drawing from him, he looks down at you meeting his gaze, feeling the splotches of redness growing across his cheeks and neck at the frustration of your light teasing. He groans out your name as your mouth works to tease him more, not having taken him fully in.

“Fucking hell, baby, quit teasin’, please.” Joel rasps as he watches your methodical seduction. He applies the smallest pressure against the back of your head when your lips finally wrap around just the tip of him, a moan of relief rolling from his chest.

Your eyes stay glued on his face, and he’s lost in the delicious warmth of your mouth, unabashed in every response that he’s having to your mouth working him. Starting a slow bob up and down, he moans at the weight of him on your tongue, saliva coating the underside of his cock as he feels you curl the muscle against every vein. With half of him with your mouth, your hand working what isn’t initially fitting inside. His noises grow louder and in quicker succession, hyperaware that his cheeks are likely visibly warm and eyes dark with a craving when he looks down at you again.

“Such a sweet girl. Look so pretty with my cock in your little mouth. Think you can take more, baby? Think I can fit in your throat?” You shift in your position slightly, thighs rubbing together and a chuckle rolls from his lips, smug in the need he’s drawing from you simply from enjoying his pleasure. A sigh exhales around him in your mouth as your thighs rub together to relieve some of your aches.

The rhythm of your head brings his cock deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. You swallow around him and it squeezes him just right, a loud moan rumbling from his chest, the reverberations sending aftershocks to the tips of his ears. At that point, he gets lost in the high feeling, his composure leaving him when his large hand at the back of your head pushes you down onto his cock, taking him down your throat further and causing you to gag. Tears spill from your eyes and spit drips from the sides of your mouth, the blow job quickly turning sloppy as Joel takes more control.

“Fucking hell, darlin’. Taking me so well on your own, being such a good girl for me,” he whines, heading tilting back as his eyes squeeze shut, shallow thrusts meeting the rhythm of your head. “Gonna fuckin’ come, baby, holy fuck, I—”

A moan around him gurgles to nothing when he thrusts again, hand tangled in your hair pulling you back until his tip rests against your lips, “Don’t wanna—please—” His words are lost on the tip of his tongue, pleasure hazing his mind as he searches for the plea he wants to make with you.

You giggle from your knees, swiping your fingers to wipe away the drool from the corners of your mouth, a satisfied smirk on your face. Bracing yourself on his thighs, you push yourself up, standing in between his legs while your hands find his shoulders, scraping your fingernails against the curve of them.

“You wanna come inside of me? Not my mouth? Is that what you were trying to say, baby?”

“Yes,” he exhales, relieved to find the word he needed, blinking open his eyes to look up at you. Your thumb skates across his bottom lip, holding onto his jaw as you study his features.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, Joel. Anything for my perfect, doting husband. D’you know how fucking good it makes me feel to make you feel good?” you question curiously, tilting his head as he lets you mold him whichever way you want. “Tell me how you deserve to have me like this. ‘Cause you’re so fucking good to me, tell me that you’re gonna let me fuck you, let me take your come inside of me.”

“Baby, I don’t think that—” he starts, palms pressing into the backs of your thighs as he looks up at you.

“Tell me, Joel. You said you wanted to be the one giving to me tonight. That’s what I want.” You use his earlier, shy request against his negative thoughts, and the intensity in your eyes bends him to your will.

“M’gonna let you have my cock, gonna let you fuck me and show me how much you love when I take care of you.” The words roll foreignly on his tongue, unconvincing coming from his mind to his mouth. You bend a knee, bringing it up to rest next to his thigh, nodding along to encourage him to continue, “I give you whatever I can give to you, and always gonna, baby. Now’s your turn to take care of me, right?”

“That’s right, honey. I should show you how much I appreciate you more often…you work so hard, give us exactly what we need, and provide for us. My big, strong man. You do so much for me, baby. Gonna show you how thankful I am for you, how grateful I am that you’re lettin’ me have this cock,” your words breathe hot against his ear, your other leg now straddling him on the bed, cunt hovering over his waiting cock. A hand leaves his shoulders, reaching between your stomachs to wrap around him, guiding him to your entrance. His breath catches in his throat when you ease down onto him, pushing through the wet seal of your slit.

Wet heat envelopes him, taking in a few inches of him; Joel groans under you, head falling forward onto your breasts, forehead pressed into your sticky skin. One hand tangles into his curls, dragging his head back to look into your eyes. Your hips start to move, adjusted to his size easily and taking more of his cock, letting it split you open inch-by-inch. His eyes wildly search yours, seeing the pleasure overtake your mind, lips parting to match his as you both breathe out shallow, hot breaths.

“Fuck, Joel, so fucking big…” you whine for the first time tonight and the sound goes straight to his cock, twitching him inside of you as his hips jerk up, giving you another inch. Lust clouds his mind, nodding confidently as you take him, desperate to feel your tight, dripping cunt around him entirely.

“I know, baby, I know. Should’ve let me get you ready. But I bet you like the stretch, like a lil’ bit of pain, huh?” he coos, arm snaking around you to hold you closer, your eyes fluttering closed above him as you nod languidly.

“Fuckin’ love it, makes it feel even better,” you whimper when his arm tugs you down further, only an inch or two away from him being fully sheathed.

“C’mon, be my good girl, baby. Show me how you sit on my cock.” He leans forward, bending you backward with his force and holding you tight, his lips attaching to the soft, velvety skin of your breasts and biting, “Gotta face your punishment for stealin’ my hat. Take a cowboy’s hat, gotta ride the cowboy, babygirl. I don’t make the rules.”

You giggle, eyes clearing as you’re pulled out of your cloud of pleasure, gripping onto his shoulders and holding eye contact as you finally sink completely down, burying Joel’s cock inside your soaked pussy. Moans echo in the room, bitten down before they get too loud, your hips immediately finding a quick, sloppy pace to chase your highs. The slick glide of your walls grip his cock lusciously, your flooding arousal coating his balls as thighs as you ride him. Little noises slip from your mouth, simmering the coals burning in the base of his gut as he feels the familiar bliss building.

“Is this what I’m supposed to be doin’, cowboy?” you wonder, hips continuing their pace and mouth twisting as you hide a smile. Joel is unashamed, a wide grin on his face as he unravels one arm from you, picking up the hat from the corner post of the bed, and setting it loosely on top of your head. Giggles erupt from the both of you, your pace faltering as the muscles in his stomach cramp from use. 

Recovering from the interlude, your thighs rub against the outside of his as you bounce, nails digging into his shoulders as your rhythm picks back up, the slap of skin against skin the only noise save for your airy breaths that get shallower and shallower. Flames have ignited in his gut, licking inside and burning hotter and hotter the closer he gets. Nearly at the edge, he needs more, body taking over and lifting you with him as he stands, holding you up on his cock as he thrusts hard and quick into you, dripping for him and gripping him tight to keep yourself up while he fucks into you.

“Oh—fuck, Joel! Right there, m’gonna—oh!” Your desperate pleas in his ear pitch up as you moan, cunt tightening with a flutter around him as you come, soaking his dick as he continues his hard pace, selfishly chasing his high. 

A growl rolls from his chest when you come, his fingernails biting into the flesh of your ass, the slap of his balls against your skin as they draw up. His eyes squeeze shut as he moans your name, the first rope of his come released into your cunt, smaller whimpers following in its wake as he fucks one, twice more, filling you up as deep as he can.

Limbs feeling heavy, he turns you both around, pulling you off of him and dropping you gently onto the mattress. He flops down next to you onto his stomach, blissfully out of it as you move to straddle his back, fingers working the knots and soothing the aches growing there after a long week of work, and a night spent corralling your kids.

The warm press of your body against his back makes him hum contently, your breasts at his shoulder blades as you lay on him, one of his hands reaching the rub his fingers softly against the outside of your thigh.

“You know I think you’re the most handsome, right, honey?” you ask with a hint of worry in your voice, barely above a whisper. He nods, rolling over to his back underneath you and meeting your eyes, brow furrowed with concern.

“I know, baby. Jus’ was feeling weird this whole week. You made it a lot better, though.” A knuckle nudges your cheek, and you take the hat off, Joel chuckling again as you throw it off to the side of the bed. Laying down on him again, he strokes your hair while you hug yourself to his torso, both your eyes and his fluttering shut with exhaustion, from tonight and life in general.

Before drifting off, Joel speaks up, cheekily asking, “So…can I wear this costume next year, too?”

taglist: @atinylittlepain @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsquill @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @anoverwhelmingdin @spishsstuff @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @vickie5446 @pertinentpostmortem @livingdeadmaria @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @its-nebuleuse @marini03 @piercethevic03 @joeandpedrosimp @planet-marz1 @txtattoostark @jrosie25 @tbniarq @vee-bees-blog @thereaperisabitch @spidermanfrog @belliezz @joelsflannel @cartoon-garbage04 @bianqueee04 @nostalxgic @xyzstar @cumberpegg @b00klvrs @burningnerdchild

join my taglist

my kofi

[baby-girl-aaron-dessner]

All the adults in the fandom knew the Swiftyn break up was probbaly a gentle slow distruction and realization of going different directions and whatever else she can keep to herself, meanwhile half the fandom has been spamming him with hate, spreading random rumours based on medley's and performance faces and being extremely black and white about this situation. It's exhausting and needing a villian/heal in a complex world with real people who have real problems and real lives and real friends and real family and real careers and real plans. I simply don't feed the fans who act like that.

Unfortunately a lot of the fandom is made up of children or people who haven’t let go of celebrity worshipping tendencies and feel the need to protect someone that they’re in a deep para-social relationship with.

You’re right, as adults we can understand the nuances of relationship breakdowns. But it’s still annoying to witness the harassment levelled at Joe and his co-stars by Swifties. It’s exhausting and it’s why I struggle with being a part of this fandom.

[punkassfrance]

Overnight Medley - Joel/Tess/Reader

NSFW, 18+ ONLY You weren't that tired anyway. Or, Joel and Tess are insatiable, even in the early hours of the morning. This work contains Sleepy Sex, Established Relationship, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sleepy Cuddles, Neck Kissing, Polyamory, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, AFAB reader, Pet Names, Insomnia, slight mommy kink, a bit of fluff, Smut, slight body worship, Light Angst, Mentions of Violence

You’re still half asleep when you feel a large, warm hand rubbing up and down your ass.

It’s nice- a few minutes of repetition and your skin is numbed, only sensitive to the feeling of something touching you. When the hand moves to your hip, you’re more awake.

“Morning, pumpkin.” You love when you can hear Joel’s accent.

It’s not morning. It can’t be- sunlight always gets through the makeshift curtains one way or another, and the room is still pitch black.

“Everything okay…?”

“Just fine. Couldn’t sleep, and you were right there, all soft and pretty.”

You smile, even if he can’t see it. Even if there was enough light to see any kind of detail, your face is still pressed into Tess’ chest. His arm is around your midsection, firm and stable. It was incredibly comforting when you ventured outside of the QZ together, clickers and raiders posing a constant threat as you tried to sleep. The only safe place was right here, between Joel and Tess. 

He shifts behind you, tucking his face into the crook of your neck and sighing. The room is quiet, all you can hear is the buzz of the fridge humming from the kitchen. The Boston QZ has never been the most peaceful place to exist. Sure, FEDRA wasn’t as brutal as they were in some places, but the near-daily executions were a harsh reminder that the world would never go back to 2003. Even putting yourselves at risk daily to get by, it was nice to have this affection to come home to. Here, it felt safe, everything outside the bounds of your mattress fading away.  Every bastard on the damned streets of Boston couldn’t pull you away from the warm hands on your waist. 

Tess is still asleep, it seems. Her heartbeat is faint, but there, steady. She’s so warm, hand on the back of your head. If you remembered right, she’d been playing with your hair as you fell asleep. Joel and Tess both insisted they needed no affection, let alone from each other- they seemed more than happy to pour whatever emotions they had into you. In various ways.

Joel’s hand slides down your waist. 

“Joel?”

“Too tired?” You don’t answer until he slips his fingers into your waistband, his lips kissing your neck. If you’re honest, you are tired, but you’ve never been one to turn down Joel’s attention. 

“I don’t wanna wake Tess…”

“Then make sure you don’t.”

You shift a bit to lay more on your back, legs spreading as much as you can in invitation. You can’t see his face, but you can hear him chuckle a bit as his hand presses further down into your underwear. You don’t realize how wet you are until his fingers find it and spread it around, thick and rough. His thumb massages your clit, rubbing slow circles as he kisses across the line of your neck. You can feel him sucking and nibbling, leaving the marks he knows you love to admire. 

One finger dips into your cunt, trying to get you used to the intrusion before pushing any further. Joel is always so gentle with his fingers- when he fucks you he’s nowhere near as patient. His finger bumps into a spot that makes you shudder. When he hears you suck in a breath, he curls his finger into that spot, savoring your hushed whine. Tess shifts and mumbles in her sleep. You freeze.

“Careful, babydoll. Don’t wanna wake your momma.” Your eyes close as you try to focus, and as you start to breathe in and out, his thumb picks up the pace on your clit. You know Joel well enough at this point to know he’s trying to make you lose it. 

“What…what do you want?” You doubt you could take his cock without making noise- at the least, you’d have to sneak out to the couch.

“Nothing tonight. Just wanna get you off.” Another finger teases at your cunt and slides in. It hooks alongside the first as he bites a tender part of your neck, holding for a moment before releasing and exhaling over the imprint. You grab his forearm, trying desperately to exhale as he hums behind you. “Breathe, breathe…”

He grinds into your ass but makes no move to undress, seemingly happy to focus on you. His thumb moves faster over your clit, flicking side to side. 

“Please.”

He chuckles. Before you can keep begging, his fingers dig in. “Give me what I want, sugar.”

It doesn’t take you long to cum on his fingers after that demand. You couldn’t say no to Joel if you tried.

The tension from the last ten minutes rushes out in a breath, your eyes squeezing shut. The room is dead silent until you breathe again. Your mind focuses in on the arm you’re clinging to, the stability you’ve come to adore. 

He presses kisses to your face and neck for a few minutes before slipping his fingers out. It’s too dark to see him lick his fingers clean, but you can hear his quiet groan of pleasure. “Perfect. Fuckin’ perfect.” His arm tucks around you again, pulling you closer to his chest. “Get some rest.” 

You suppose that’s the closest Joel can get to “I love you”. 

-

Before the outbreak, you might have called your bedframe “antique”. Now, as it groans in protest to motion, all your tired mind can think is “rickety piece of shit”. 

The light clicks on in the kitchen. The door is mostly shut, so it doesn’t bother you too much, but your hand flops around at your sides to see who’s missing. When you smack Joel’s hip he snores softly in response, but the bed is empty on Tess’ side. 

Rubbing your eyes, you glance around the room. Early morning blue light gives you an outline of the room, just enough to get an idea of the furniture. You sit up, staring at the bedroom door as you hear the faucet run.

After a while, you manage to stand and shuffle through the bedroom. You push the door open and shut it gently behind you, looking out into the living room. Tess is standing over the sink with a mug in hand, staring out at the city like she’s the queen of Boston. As far as you’re concerned, she may as well be. She hasn’t made herself decent at all, there in the kitchen wearing nothing but basketball shorts. 

“Sorry if I woke you.” 

She stares out the window for another moment before turning to face you. White scars are scattered across her body- a few you know the story behind, but most of them she won’t tell you about. Her hair is messy, but you’re certain yours is worse. 

“It’s alright. Couldn’t sleep that well anyway.” 

From the dim light, you can see the outline of her body and where her hair falls. It’s not quite long enough to cover her chest, but you don’t think she was trying to. 

“Rough night?”

“Sort of.” You snort softly, stepping closer to lean against the counter beside her. “Joel woke up and we got a little busy.”

She smirks before taking another sip from the mug. When she pulls the rim away from her lips, her voice is hoarse. “You’re gonna give the man a heart attack one of these days.”

“Hey, he instigated.”

She grins as you lean your head on her shoulder. You can’t see much from the living room window, not from where you’re standing, but you can see enough to appreciate. 

Tess is calm. She’s usually nonchalant, keeping an air of authority, but right now she’s calm. The line of tension is gone from her shoulders, her breaths slow and even as her hand rests on yours. Eventually, she guides you to the couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table and slowly working through the mug. You’re curled into her side, watching her while she pretends she doesn’t notice.

Tess was never the romantic type, exactly. She brought things home for you, she took care of you when you were sick, she whispered “I love you too” in the darkness with nobody else around to hear it. She just wasn’t the type to bring home flowers.

You wonder if she would have brought you flowers before the outbreak. If she would have taken you out to dinner and planned a future with you beyond the hour. You can see her folding laundry, or watching a movie, or calling to ask if you wanted anything from the store. If you listen hard, you can hear her say “I love you” first. The feeling that bubbles in your chest has been familiar for a long time.

Grief. 

But then you refocus on her. The morning light is kind to her. Her eyes are half shut, hair disheveled as she tilts her head back against the wall. The creases and scars from decades of stress don’t look like blemishes- they just look like Tess.

She looks down at you and finishes her tea, setting it on the coffee table. Her lips press to your forehead, lingering for just a moment. 

“What’s on your mind?”

“Eh, just…the plan for the day.” You shrug softly. Her hand brushes over your thigh and she squeezes. 

“I don’t know if I’ll go back to sleep, you go lay down. You could probably squeeze in a few more hours.” She sounds like she spent the night chainsmoking. If she didn’t smell like sweat and laundry detergent, you would have thought she had. 

“Don’t know if I could get back to sleep. Too much energy.” While your muscles are sore and tired, you want to spend the morning with her. You can catch up on sleep, but the early morning light on her face only comes once a day. You know she’s not going back to sleep. She barely scrapes by with a few hours, most days. You’re not sure what she’s thinking about, staring out the window in silence, she won’t tell you or Joel. 

She grins, her eyes sliding down. “I could help tire you out, if you want.”

You give her an incredulous look, one hand coming up to rub your eye. “Tire me out? You’re already horny? It’s…” You glance at the radio on the other side of the room. “...five forty and you’re already trying to fuck me?” 

She snorts a bit, smoothing her hand over your thigh. “Only if you’re in the mood-”

You mime looking at a watch that broke a long time ago, tapping your wrist. “It’s twilight and you’re trying to get in my panties already?”

She rolls her eyes. “Alright, fine, if you’re not interested. Smartass.”

The clock ticks on the wall.

“...well, I didn’t say that.”

She sets get mug down and slides down to her knees, settling herself between your legs with a smile. “I thought so.”

You go to pull your underwear off, but she beats you to it. She bats your hands away from the elastic and grabs your hips, pulling you to the edge of the couch. Her tongue drags over the cotton, warm and teasing, focusing on your clit for just a moment before pulling back. A quick, sharp pain runs up your leg as she nips the tender skin of your thigh, quickly soothed with a kiss. Her thumb pulls your panties to the side as she readies herself. If you looked close, you’d see her pupils wide, lips parted in quiet reverence. It’s the most powerful you’ve ever felt- the queen of Boston so eager to please.

Her tongue circles your clit, fingers spreading you gently as your head falls back onto the couch. If there was anything Tess was good at, it was oral. You wonder how many people she’s pleased like this- Joel, certainly. You. Rumors always spread of her sneaking into brothels while Joel was out. 

She buries her tongue into your heat and you tense, hand curling into her hair as you wonder who she was before the outbreak. Did she slink around clubs in Detroit, picking up who she wanted? Knowing her, she’d be right at home on her knees in the dingy bathroom of a gay bar.  Whatever she did, whoever she was, you wished you could have seen it. Seen her young and happy. 

She pulls you out of your thoughts with a firm grip on your thigh, holding it out of the way as she admires the view. Her fingers trace over your cunt, gentle as the cool air teases you. She licks what she can off her fingers before going in again, laving over your clit. You almost wish she would come up for air and kiss you properly, but she would rather die than leave this job unfinished. 

She tries to ease the tension in your legs with gentle hands, massaging absently with her mind elsewhere. Coils in your body burn hot, searing as she doubles down on your clit. She’s settled into a maddening pattern of flicking and sucking, never giving you enough of either, waiting for the right moment to drive you fucking mad. 

When she lifts her head, your heart leaps at the wetness on her chin. “You gonna cum for me, babydoll? You gonna give momma what she wants?”

Your stomach clenches with the urge to obey- her eyes flick between your face and the mess in front of her, diving back in with passion. 

You think of that word a lot, with Tess. Passion.

Everything flies out of your head when she licks a long stripe up your cunt, one hand coming up to slip a finger inside you as she sucks hard on your clit. Her other hand comes up to rest on your lower stomach, splayed out to hold as much of you as she can. 

Squirming under her hands, you reach a peak and let go, a small part of your brain keeping you quiet as you cum. It’s not terribly successful- you hear grunts and choked whines, but waking Joel is the last thing on your mind right now. You meet her gaze, but you barely realize it, a hazy image of half-lidded hazel eyes seared into your brain.

Hands and kisses ease you down from the high. You’re not sure when she got back up on the couch and pulled you into her arms, but before long, your heart beats in sync with hers. She picks up a hand towel on the side table and wipes her face, quickly wiping between your legs before tossing it aside. Soft lips kiss your cheek and neck, exhaling softly. Part of you wonders if she gets you so blissed out so she can love on you when you’re too distracted to remember it. She deserves this. A few moments to share affection without the consequence of vulnerability. You’ll never tell her you remember everything. She’ll never let you reciprocate, not like this. 

Before long, she stands. The basketball shorts hang off her hips, untied and too big. She finishes off her coffee and sets the mug down, staring out the window for one more minute. You take the chance to eye her breasts, outlined by the blue morning light. You feel your libido twitch again, just lightly, the thought of your momma’s chest almost defeating exhaustion. She’d get kinky if you let her- but it was too early for that. Both today and in general. 

She turned back to you and leaned down, tucking her arms under you and lifting you off the couch. She was so much stronger than she looked- part of you suspected she stayed fit just to carry you to bed bridal style. You felt like her bride, for a moment. 

Grief, again. Subtle but present.

She carried you to bed, gently nudging the door open with her hip and setting you beside Joel. For a moment you think she’s going to leave, back to the living room to resume her morning, but she crawls in beside you. 

“I thought you weren’t tired?”

She pauses, thinking of an answer as she adjusts the blankets and pulls you in. When she speaks, it’s a whisper. 

“I’m not. But I’m…not going to pass up a chance to cuddle you to sleep.” Her face nuzzles your neck. “It’s a nice way to start a morning.”

You don’t think Joel would have been cruel if he’d heard her. He snores softly beside you, mumbling just a bit. He’s just as tender as her- sometimes. The biggest mercy they ever granted each other was pretending their vulnerabilities didn’t exist. The biggest gift he could give her was silence in the face of bare flesh.  

Tess tilts your head towards her and kisses you one more time, sighing into the kiss and settling in. 

Here, between Joel and Tess, you feel ease.

-

When your eyes crack open, the room is bright, the clock reading 08:12. You hear tanks on the street outside your window, finishing their morning patrols. You reach down to feel the arm tucked around your waist- it’s Joel. Tess has her face pressed into your chest, her greying roots more visible from this angle. Not that she’s ever tried to hide them, but you don’t point them out in fear that she will. Pressing your lips to her head, she shifts and looks up, turning to look at the sunlight. 

“What time is it?” She rubs her face. “I didn’t think I would fall asleep.”

“Did you have somewhere to be?”

She stares at you for a moment before tucking her face back between your breasts. “No.”

The moment is cut short by an ear-splitting yawn, Joel’s arm sliding down to your hip. “Having fun without me?” His hand tucks between your legs and pulls you towards him, one finger prodding gently at your cunt. Tess pulls away from you and sits up, guiding your head into her lap as she sits against the headboard. Thin fingers scratch at your scalp.

“No, that was last night. Think I tuckered our baby out.”

You nod absently, the warmth of her thighs almost lulling you back to sleep. Joel presses on your clit, keeping your attention as you squirm. “Not quite…”

“I’ll have to try harder next time.” 

You shuffle closer to Tess as she brushes her fingers through her bedhead. She’s still shirtless, not wearing one of the ratty bras she’s held on to. You want to break into the mall at some point, grab something cute from Victoria’s Secret for her. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the thought of her in something red and lacy. 

Her calloused hand reaches down to your cheek, guiding your face to look at her. Joel’s fingers focus in on your clit, rubbing slow circles as he works you up. The blessing of having both of your lovers obsessed with cunt is not lost on you. Between the two of them, you’re never starved for attention. 

Distracted, you almost don’t notice Tess’ hand guiding your head closer. You lean up to kiss her breasts, mouthing at the tender flesh. If Joel wasn’t rubbing his cock against your thigh, busy whimpering in your ear, he’d crack a joke about Tess being your mommy. The thought has you writhing. Her hands brush through your hair as you suck softly. If you listen, you can hear her exhale. 

Joel slips his hand into your panties, speeding up as you feel his cock on your thigh. His fingers are rough and warm, running over the delicate pink skin. You’ve seen him split wood with those hands- you’ve seen them covered in dark blood, staining the collar of someone thrown into a wall. As deft fingers swirl around the rim of your core, you picture them gouging out eyes. Fingering you desperately in the alley behind your old apartment. Choking you out. It’s more of a turn-on than you like to admit. 

Before too long, he groans and something wet hits your thigh. His fingers slow but don’t stop as he catches his breath, taking a moment to recover before speeding up again. You can almost hear Tess shushing him gently, trying not to upset the neighbors again. Joel is never quiet unless he has to be. 

You break away from Tess as something grows in your throat, more intense as Joel gains his bearings and focuses on you. Tess keeps playing with your hair as you start to whimper. A blanket makes its way into your hands, you’re not sure if you grabbed it or if one of them passed it to you, but you pull it into your arms and hug it. 

It doesn’t take you long to finish- they’ve both worked you over throughout the night. Even with rest between encounters, there’s no stamina left. You’re certain you won’t even be able to sit up against the headboard once this is done, let alone finish your tasks for the day. If Joel and Tess wanted help cleaning, they shouldn’t have worn you out so bad. 

You almost black out when he pushes you over the edge- all you can hear is your own heartbeat, your own breathing, and for a moment, nothing. 

Joel’s lips press to your neck, bringing your attention back to the bed. Back to the bodies around you, the bittersweet smell of the room and your lovers. Warmth, alcohol, evergreens, sweat, decades-old perfume you stole for Tess, and if you focus, detergent.

Tess helps you into a more comfortable position as she slides down to join you. Joel pulls your hips in closer, sighing and pressing a few soft kisses to your neck. Watching Joel and Tess slink around the QZ before you got together, you never would have guessed they’d be so affectionate once you got them in bed. 

Fighting the temptation to doze off, you glance between them and smile.

“Good morning."

Hope you enjoyed! Find this work on AO3 or check out my about me, feel free to say hi or leave an ask/request!

[moonmoonthecrabking]

grace chasity absolutely did worship at the front of church. maybe not in high school as a ministry, but she’d sing louder than all the other kids during those services where they bring the children up and make them Participate. after bully/bury the bully, you can’t tell me that girl doesn’t have a spring in her step and a song in her heart (and that song is a medley /ref)!

[mofffun]

Music Collection vol.3 repo

note: i don't know a thing about music somebody please please do a musical analysis of king-ohger some day

There's still no "Mysterious Debut" from ep4!!! Did you guys forget it??!!

1: I didn't even knew i needed the narration bgm but thank you narration bgm. recgonized it immediately.

2: this is my favourite (non-obstructing) version of instrumental Zenryoku King so far

Shugoddom 2 years after: there's still kind of a solem march disciplinary rhythm but it feels more upbeat and cheerful than authoritarian

N'kosopa: my instinct reaction is: freedom. contrary to Shugoddom, i don't hear a single instrument as the melody it feels more background noise in a good sense. As in it suits the environment as opposed to dominating the scene. Maybe you can make a theory about there's no single driving force and N'kosopa is all about community

Ishabana: I don't have much of a reaction to it but i think it's more… subtle? as in v1 was very much announcing Himeno's appearance and you're supposed to fall head over heels for her and v2 is "I'm exerting beauty regardless of your worship"?

Toufu: it's so fun. you know you're in for a ride. wouldn't be out of place if it plays at the mall during new year.

Gokkan: I LOVE YOU. this part brainwashed me back in 27 and i kept thinking if this is the Gokkan theme or the Shugddom theme because they share that orchestral repeat and it plays into Jeramie and Gira transforming (btw Jeramie is not in that medley). In the middle it turned sombre again but the melody comes back on it's like regaining control and the song is proper balanced!

8: i think this is an earlier bgm we don't hear as often now. very comforting while alluring you to a bedtime story. i like the strings 1 minute in

9: YES JERAMIE'S CHOIR DEBUT SONG IS HERE. *blast it at highest volume* love the wind chimes 0:37-0:50 you really need to turn it max to hear, and it stops when the drum starts building tension. there's beats of "8. A story wiped from history" at the end too.

10: i see it… ep26… buganarok national day *wipe tears*

11: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 RITAAAAAAA

12: violin INFERNO!!! i love this one. my strongest impression of it was in ep11 the orphans griefing about Gira. What do you mean it's called "A king's compassion for his peole" 😭😭

13: the! the touching bgm!

15: love Dugded's theme. SW vibes if i say so, knowing Hidetsuna did use SW as an inspiration for chapter 2. strong impact the first time i hear it.

16: i can sing along to this

17: ?… OH "Racles's schemes"!! Hello old friend! Another one to sing along.

(these dug themes are melting together for me…)

20: Does this share some sounds with "18. Uchuuoh's Iron First"???

22: compared with "Assemble! The five kings", I like the ch2 assemble theme is more [穩重]… more mature and grounded. There's still the same insipiring quality but a sense of you can really trust them to take care of everything instead of just raging on an adventure. I guess it's they are working better as like a team.

ringtones:

gira/racles: evil vs hero. will believe racles's ringtone is the official shugoddom anthem.

yanma: THAT'S OUR PREZ! (anything i can say will never be as GOAT as Hidetsuna-san designing a wblue matching ringtone)

himeno: afternoon tea

rita: i hadn't noticed there's a "dun-duh" after the chibi moffun chirps. Rita is always getting calls and always cutting their ringtones short 😂 sorry Rita but gotta say the sharp chirps is not good for my ears

kagu: i almost forgot his bgm is like this 😂 very fitting i guess

jeramie: medieval european bard

out of the 8 the only one i'd consider using is probably jeramie's. and maybe yanma's racles song 😂

now we need a retro rpg with the ringtones as bgm

insert songs:

Pride and Brave: ooh the full song is much better than just the ed segment! something about Takatori-san's voice being nostalgically reassuring. Like the crossover itself, very traditional-flavoured sentai. I always thought of "Waking the King" as an "ura-OP", the OP King-Oh would have if it's born 10 years earlier, and this is the special edition crossover movie dancing ED.

Just we go: This is the "image song" of ch2 so it hasn't been used in the show yet. Contrary to "Waking the King" this feels more like an "ura-ED" but not a dance one, closer to a Rider ED. The lyrics is very affirming of the kings' journey this past (three) year(s) - that i feel like, a message that i receive from the show, is you can always make up for your mistakes and you always have a second chance, and the lyrics is saying that. It maybe the same vague hopeful words but it's about taking everything that happened to you, ackowledged how hard you fought, to protect your home and then facing the future without reservations. cliche of cliche but it works!

I'm still alive: I love this song. I've waited for it since ep 2. TWO. (now it's released the crown of longest-waiting bgm is passed to Mysterious from ep4).

and I feel so sorry and mean if I critique the grammar because the artist and team worked hard on it and musically it's wonderful! The grammar just takes it a little bit out of immersion. Now i'm curious if the lyrics has a japanese blueprint that better convey the message. Reagrdless, it's interesting to think of the english language is part of Yanma's antique/retro hobby. Maybe English is an antiqudated language on Chikyuu so the gramma is odd to modern Chikyuu ears.

[writer-darling]

Eat Your Young

Rating: E - EXPLICIT (18+ MINORS DNI)

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect, 2018) x F!Reader

Warnings: There’s so much here. I’m definitely missing stuff. Nothing super descriptive for Reader but they are described as having hair. Pre-established relationship. Sexual tension out the wahzoo. Somnophilia (but with a previous discussion about it mentioned). Mentions of food and eating but nothing descriptive. Alotta horniness. Domestic fluff-ish. Banter. Flirting. A couple POV switches. A little bit of body insecurity. Body worship. Undressing. Feral Ezra. Lemme say it again: FERAL. EZRA. If there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in :)

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary!: Listen. I have no excuses for this so I’ll just say: it’s Ezra and new Hozier music, you know damn well what you’re signing up for. 

******

You’re never one to toot your own horn but damn if the kitchen doesn’t smell amazing. You’re in the middle of cooking up a large dinner for you and Ezra and you’re beyond excited to finish. This will be your first date night in weeks. Thankfully his next prospecting gig isn’t until early next week so you two have at least a couple more days before the bitter sweetness settles in and you’re left here at home to miss him, so you want to make the most of it. And on the list of things to do before he goes is this date night. 

Originally, the plans had been very different. Just yesterday you both were talking about spending the day out together. An early rise to the local Farmer’s Market, followed by brunch at your favorite café spot, spending a few hours at the bookstore (you regularly enjoyed picking out a couple books to read together while he’s away on gigs; two copies of each of course), dinner at your favorite restaurant, then ending the night with a good movie. However, a sudden cold front had put a stop to all that. It arrived overnight seemingly, along with the rain that had just picked up an hour or so ago. Luckily,  you’d gotten all the grocery shopping done ahead of time and had spent all day prepping everything you needed to make a combination of your favorite foods into a satisfying evening meal. You’re humming quietly under your breath as you dice up some carrots for the vegetable medley, unaware of Ezra watching you from the kitchen entryway behind you.

He’d been watching you for a while now, unable to tear his eyes away from the grace and confidence you exude as you moved from station to station in the kitchen. It’s like a waltz only you know the rhythm to, and it makes his entire body heat up so quickly he feels like he’s burning from the inside out. 

You always looked gorgeous to him, obviously, but something about you doing something as simple as cooking an elaborate dinner for him, for you both, makes his mouth water. Not to mention the special attention you’d taken for this date night, from the cooking to your appearance. You’d both dressed up just for this and he couldn’t help it as he eyed you appreciatively at the fact. He was more than glad for this damned storm, not because he didn’t enjoy being out with you. He truly did, it was always one of his favorite days to see you smiling in the sun beside him. But now, in the privacy of your home, he doesn’t have to hide one bit of his careful attention out of courtesy for the public around him. Here, in your shared place of residence, he can enjoy the sight of your figure brazenly. He can revel in the sight of you as much as he likes.

“Woah,” You let out a gasp of surprise as he latches onto you suddenly, the warm expanse of his body pressing firmly against your own, his knuckles coming to rest on either side of you on the counter, strong arms caging you. One of his hands moves to twist your hair to your right side, exposing the skin of your left side to him.

“Sincerest of apologies, sweetheart but the vision of you enjoying the peace of domesticity has me particularly feral at the moment.” His voice is low against the shell of your ear, and he accentuates the sentiment by grabbing your hips between his large hands, pulling you into him. Breathless by his actions, you let out a surprised and quiet laugh, tilting your head back slightly against his shoulder. He takes advantage of the movement, his lips dancing along the flesh of your shoulder to the dip in your collar bone. You lean away from him, despite every fiber of your being protesting the action.

“It’s okay, just took me by surprise, is all.” He grabs your left arm and extends it out, following your skin down from the soft spot under your ear, along your shoulder, your elbow, all the way to your knuckles, peppering kisses the entire time,

“How about we skip the main entrée and get straight to the dessert then?” He suggests, raising an eyebrow at you as he cradles your fist in both of his hands. He kisses your knuckles gently.

“Oh no, love, we are not rushing through this. We haven’t had a proper dinner date in months and I did not spend over four hours in the kitchen just for you to ignore this food.” You warn, turning yourself to face him fully. Your voice is calm and stern, but not angry. In fact, you find it cute that he’s impatient. He pouts and drops your hand but still doesn’t let you go, instead placing his hands on your hips once more and rubbing gentle circles with his thumbs against your hip bones.

“Not even if I promise you three rounds, dearest?” He asks. You shake your head adamantly, even though the excitement that sparks down your spine is already agreeing to his offer.

“Nope. And it better be four considering how long I spent at the grocery store.” His eyes widen and you see the excited glint in them but you continue on before he can speak, “Now go wash up, I’m just waiting on the side dishes.” You say, putting your hands on his chest and giving him a gentle push.

“Ok, alright, honey. Let’s get this surely delectable meal over with so I can satiate a much more powerful hunger of mine.” He looks up at you through his lashes and your skin immediately grows heated, so you drop your eyes from the intensity of his stare.

“Ezra, go.” You say, unable to hide your own grin at his antics. He lifts his palms up in silent surrender and turns on his heels to head towards the bathroom. Meanwhile you exhale and walk over to the kitchen sink to wash your own hands, wondering just how much trouble awaits you with him tonight. 

When he exits the bathroom, his mood has lightened. He’s smiling as he takes the spatula from you just as you’re about to dig into the main entrée to serve him.

“Nuh-uh, go sit, sweetheart and I’ll serve dinner. You’ve been on your feet long enough.” He says just as you’re about to protest. You smile at him in gratitude and nod, your poor ankles exhausted. He beams back and kisses your hair before turning his attention to the food and plates awaiting.

You sit at the table patiently, taking the time to finally smell the food properly. Your stomach grumbles in response to the symphony of smells. You close your eyes for a moment, pleased and anticipating the meal, but open them when you hear Ezra’s approaching footsteps. Sure enough, he’s carrying both plates of food in his hands. 

He sets yours down in front of you and you thank him. The smell of it all again hits your nose, stronger now that it’s closer in proximity and your mouth waters. Before you dig in, he clears his throat loudly, drawing your attention to him across the table.

“Feed it to me?” He drawls in his most sugary tone, giving you the sweetest of puppy dog looks through his mahogany eyes. All a ruse you see through easily. You know it’s just his excuse to have you near him again. Still, you nod and stand, walking over to the chair closest to him and bringing your plate and wine glass along with you. You place everything down on his right side, sitting in the chair perpendicular to him. He’s unsatisfied with the distance still between you and grabs the edge of the seat from underneath, pulling you closer. You smile at him and he grins in response, kissing your cheek. His facial hair tickles as he pulls away, leaning back into his seat with a satisfied exhale. “That’s better.” 

“What do you wanna try first?” You ask, changing the subject and focusing instead on the plate before you.

“Whatever you please, dearest.” He bats his lashes at you and you roll your eyes at his feigned innocence. You decide to play his game, smiling and pretending to mull over the choices presented on the plate. You exaggeratedly pretend to inspect each option, even leaning forward in your chair slightly to get a better look. You know you’re taking too long when his leg begins to bounce rhythmically under the table but he doesn’t voice his impatience. You grab  a forkful of food and bring it to him, but it almost falls at the last minute, that is until you catch it with your other hand. 

You offer it to him with a smile and he grins, grabbing your wrist. His pointer and middle finger lay on your pulse point as he brings your outstretched arm to him. He parts his lips and takes the food into his mouth, making a show of chewing and swallowing it. When you try to pull your hand away to feed him more, he slightly tightens his grip. Unprompted, he brings your fingers into his mouth. He locks eyes with you as he sucks the digits slowly, the softness of his tongue teasing them gently. You’re staring at him dumbfounded, your jaw dropping open to gape at his actions. Hell, you couldn’t look away if you tried. After one last lick, he lets you go, and leans away with another wink your way and a quiet hum. The spell is broken when he looks away for a moment and your throat is dry when you try to speak. You grab his wine glass instead of yours as your focus wavers and take a sip to replace the heat in your abdomen. 

“Hungry, are we, love?” You ask when your bravery’s returned to you. He chuckles and nods, his gaze fixated on you.

“Starvin’, darlin’.” He replies, his grin devilish and you smile politely back. That doesn’t deter him from trying again. “...Though we still have time to end the meal here.” You give him a long look and he backtracks. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, dearest, I just think we have some more pressin' matters to attend to is all.” His apologetic eyes are sincere but you still don’t give, shaking your head.

“Not until we finish our food.” You say, grabbing a purposefully overfilled forkful of food and shoving it into your mouth. He watches amused, and grabs your free hand in his.

“Not even if I beg? I know you like it when I beg, sweet thing.” He says, once again kissing your knuckles. He then turns your hand over in his hold to lay kisses on your palm too. You bite back a smile and shake your head like a child, swallowing your dinner. He waits for you to speak,

“Nice try.” He sighs and leans back.

“Ok, honey I get it. You’re truly stickin’ to your guns this time.” 

“Yes I am. Now eat; the sooner you finish your plate, the sooner we get to dessert.” He brightens up at your use of his earlier wording. He nods, complacent for now, and digs in.

“Are you excited for the upcoming gig?” You ask as you use your fork to cut up another bite of food. He nods, pensively behind his own mouthful.

“Yeah, I think I am. I’m joinin’ up with the Passerine crew, should only be about five or six cycles before I’m home once more.” He says. 

“Almost a week? That’s not too bad.” You say, though it does worry you. Shorter trips meant less likely pay and prospecting was already a hit-or-miss career at best. Plus, in your opinion, no amount of money was worth being a prospector. It was dangerous, unstable work. But, it’s what he’s naturally great at, for better or worse. He lets out a soft hum of agreement, taking a bite from his dinner roll next.

“It’s shorter than we’re used to, but the pay is good, dearest. There’s money to be made trackin’ down those aurelac gems on Katoon.” He reassures. You nod, relieved and smile at him, taking another sip of wine.

“As long as you come back to me, the pay doesn’t matter.” You say, sadness already blooming in your chest. It’s like he feels it too because he looks over at you, his gaze softening.

“I’ll be back before you know it, darlin’. Just try not to miss me too much, yeah?” He says. You smile, your eyes getting a little misty but you blink the tears away, not wanting to dampen the mood.

“No promises.” 

Throughout the rest of the meal, his heated gaze makes its way over to you continuously. But, he behaves and does as you request, eating plenty of his meal and almost finishing it. You’re both down to the last few bites when he sighs and leans back, patting his abdomen with a satisfied smile.

“That was delicious, dearest.” He says, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“You’re just saying that to get us out of the dining room, love.” You say. He laughs and nods, both of you taking a sip of wine at the same time.

“While I will not deny my urgency to get you underneath me, I truly did enjoy this wonderful array of delicious food and the labor that was put into it. Thank you, sweetheart.” He says, kissing your cheek again. You beam at his proud gaze. You give it a moment and he sheepishly grins before continuing on, “Now can we please leave the dining room?” You laugh now and nod, standing up and offering your arms out to him as you’re about to make your way to the bedroom. He grins and follows suit, but turns you to face forward, towards the living room instead. He places his hands over your eyes and gently nudges you forward with a tap. You stumble for only a step before allowing him to guide you.

“You’ve got a surprise for me?” You ask, your curiosity piqued as.

“Don’t I always?” Your hearing zeroes in on how his voice has deepened and there’s that familiar heat from earlier making a comeback both in your torso and all over your skin. “Close your eyes for a moment while I set up. No peakin’.” You do as he says and he removes his hands from you. The warmth of his body is gone a second later and your ears pick up on the sound of his footsteps moving away from you. There’s a bit more commotion that you can’t make quite out but an all-too-familiar roar makes you smile. “Ok, open your eyes.” 

As you suspected, the fireplace is on and roaring, but your eyes then fall to the space a few feet from it. He’s moved the coffee table out of the way, and placed an array of large, fluffy blankets and giant pillows right under the sofa. The pillows create a sort of semi-circle around the blankets as a border. Your eyes go back to him and he’s standing near the fireplace with a hopeful smile in his button down and slacks. You adore the way the flames splay shadows and golden light on his profile, accentuating his natural beauty tenfold. The image is cozy, warm, and blissfully domestic.

“Ya like it?” He asks. You nod, smiling back at him.

“It’s perfect.” He’s pleased by your response and walks over. He kisses you again, this time his movements calmer, gentler. You pull him closer, hooking your pointer fingers into his beltloops and he smiles against your mouth, his hands cradling your face. When he pulls away, he looks you over, his brown eyes as warm as the heat from the fireplace.

“Take your clothes off.” The dip in his voice makes another shiver shoot down your spine and you nod, cotton-mouthed. He walks away from you, towards the pillows.

“What about you?” You ask, your fingers already fumbling with the buttons on your clothing. Your fingers are clumsy in their haste but you keep your eyes on him anyway as he sits down, leaning back against the pillows with his arms behind his head.

“Me? Oh, I’m just fine with sittin’ back to watch, darlin’ and please don’t rush.” You give him another long look and stop moving, placing your hands on your hips.

“Shut up and come help me out of this before I go back to the kitchen.” He chuckles and does as you say, getting on his knees and crawling over to you. The rest of the buttons begin at your navel and he takes over, undoing them with a nimble swiftness that can only come from years of prospecting. When the garment is completely unbuttoned, you both smile and you shimmy it off of your shoulders, tossing it away from you. That leaves you in your bra and underwear and he drinks in the sight, splaying his hands on your abdomen. You hold your head high, despite the familiar flush of insecurity that always overtakes you in these moments. 

Now you reach over for him but he shakes his head, moving his hands from you to undo the buttons of his own shirt. The golden skin of his chest is a welcomed sight as he peels off the button down, throwing it in the same corner of your own clothes and your hands immediately touch him, smiling at the way he shudders in response. Now it’s your turn to kneel down to his eyeline on the blanket. He smiles and you kiss him again, allowing him to guide you and lay down. As you attempt to pull him closer, he pauses, disconnecting from the kiss.

“Oh no, we’re just getting started dearest. I recall you mentioning four rounds?” He asks, grinning. You raise an eyebrow and sit up. He falls back against the pillows as you push him down, moving to straddle him.

“Oh you were serious, then?” He nods enthusiastically and you laugh at his enthusiasm. “Good, because I recall you saying something about begging.” 

It shouldn’t be this simple. The way he’s able to pull your subconscious from the realm of sleep. To a space that’s in-between complete oblivious dreamland and full awakening. It’s not fair. And yet, it gets him absolutely ravenous for you. Something he still doesn’t fully comprehend. His hunger should be satiated, he should be satisfied. But the heat churning in his gut tells him it's quite the opposite. As you stir again, he turns, his eyes adjusting to your figure in the dark.

It started when you suddenly spoke in the middle of the night, your voice just the faintest whisper in the darkness of the room. The flames had long since gone out, now almost fully dead embers as you two had fallen asleep after your night of passion. He was a light sleeper, always, but especially from his years of dangerous labor. So when he had heard you speak, he was awoken instantly, zeroing in all of his attention to you. After all, sometimes you would quietly mumble whenever you were experiencing some sort of nightmare and he was the one to save you from its depths when he pulled you into him. 

And at first, that’s what he thought this was. Your words were unintelligible, but there was something in your expression, a restlessness he had witnessed only hours before, but just as he had been preparing to bring you closer in, things changed. His entire body froze in place as you whimpered softly, before whispering his name, the clearest thing out of your mouth yet. It was so soft, a longing sigh that you relished in as you turned your face towards him. Just that had him feral again. And his arousal only grew in size when he watched as you moved your hips from under the sheets in a steady, languid roll.

You were dreaming about him. About his complete devotion to you. He knew it. He shamelessly watched as you worked yourself up, moving slightly faster and faster, your breath ragged. It isn’t until you’re just on the precipice of completion that he moves, touching your cheek with his knuckles. He knows you well. As long as he doesn’t shake you, you’ll stay asleep, but you’ll answer him. You’ll answer his questions honestly. He doesn’t know why but he’s experienced it before. So, he does just that.

“Sweetheart,”

“Hmm?” Your quiet reply, and your hips slowly stop their movement, as if your subconscious mind can only focus on one thing at once. 

“Are you dreaming about me?” He keeps his voice very quiet, not wanting to completely pull you from your slumber yet.

“Mm… Mm-hmm.” You nod, your breathing still completely even. Meanwhile, his heart is racing in his chest and the room grows hotter with every second.

“Was it a wet dream?” He asks, and it sounds embarrassingly childish out loud, but your affirming hum cuts through that. “Want me to do something about it?” He asks. Another affirming hum. 

It’s not like you both hadn’t spoken about it before. In fact, you’d both had an extensive conversation about this particular fantasy of yours. He knew it had been embarrassing for you to admit it at first, but after much reassurance from him, you had confirmed his suspicions. You had quickly admitted that it had been a sort of wish list idea for him to wake you up one night or hell even early morning with his mouth and he had secretly been insanely pleased with the idea, tucking it away for future reference. And he could plainly see that now, right now, was the perfect moment to fulfill this desire.

He moves down, trailing featherlight kisses over every bit of your skin he can make out in the dark. He uses his hands to gently and slowly work your thighs open. Settling himself in between your knees, he nips at your inner thighs. You’re stirring into consciousness now and the moment your eyes open and his name is a quiet question leaving your mouth, he dives in. The surprised gasp that leaves you makes his heart swell with pride as he eat you out like its the first time, the last time. He uses his palms to push your thighs further apart as your hands latch into his hair, a loud moan greeting his ears next. Your eyes can only flick down to watch for a moment, your mind struggling to keep up with all the new sensations, before they shut again as he uses his fingers along with his mouth to make you scream. But you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, and you meet his eyes with your own in the dark. As he flattens his tongue, giving longer deeper strokes while increasing the tempo of his fingers, your body arches off of the blanket. He pulls his fingers away just to move your legs to rest over his shoulders before placing them again right where they belong. Your moans grow louder and more urgent as the new angle allows him to keep you in place. 

He slowly increases the rhythm, letting you adjust to the paces he’s setting with ease and guiding you with each increase. He’s not rushing this; he wants you to enjoy it for as long as possible. When your climax hits you, it does so in a rush that makes your head spin. He stimulates you through it, lessening his intensity but letting you chase the high, moaning along with you. Eventually, he slows the movement of his mouth, not wanting to hurt you. Your eyes open after a moment and they find him again. He’s still watching you, even as he finally tears his fingers and mouth away. You’re both breathing hard as he crawls back up to you, licking the rest of you from his lips and fingers like he didn’t get enough the first two times. You open your arms for him and he hugs you immediately, both of your breaths evening out.

“That’s it. No more outside dates.” You whisper and that makes both of you laugh in the darkness. He kisses your hair, then nibbles the skin of your neck, his voice a soft rumble in your ear.

“Attagirl.”

******

I sent @kayleezra a text that said - and I quote -, "Ezra and Hozier are a match made in fanfic heaven and I could write a million stories for Ezra and never tire," So there ya go. Also the fact that I'm getting way too comfortable writing smut is so wild to me. Nothing wrong with writing it, I just can't help but cringe internally every time I do it (and yet I still continue to do it).

Tag List: @pedrocentric @luz-introvertida @castleamc @moralesfish @klara-luise18 @supernaturalgirl89 @december-gal1 @pbeatriz @castleamcc @hillarymurray4​ @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20​ @sherala007​ @littlemisspascal​ @practicalghost​ @donnaa​ @scorpio-marionette​ @kayleezra​ @amandanik23​ @maxpbxtch97 @lowlights @shadesofnerdlygrace @harriedandharassed @carefulnowprincess @amneris21 @horton-hears-a-honk @xdaddysprincessxx @trickstersp8 @mswarriorbabe80 (hope it’s ok that I’m tagging you all!)

Links!

Join the Tag List here

Ao3 link here

TikTok here

Ezra Playlist here

[allig8er]

I have this obsession with comparing love & romance to religion (read: blasphemy kink) and, well:

📖 🥀 🖤 🌘 ✨

🎶 “Treat us like it’s blasphemy - pray we don’t get caught” - Christabelle Marbun, salvation

🎶 “No angels could beckon me back - it’s hotter than Hell where I’m at - I am an animal with you” - Troye Sivan, Animal

🎶 “mommy don’t know daddy’s getting hot at the body shop - doing something unholy” - Sam Smith, Unholy

🎶 “You in one day took this weight from my soul, showed me all my life’s been missing. Cause you save me more than any religion ” - Colton Avery, Religion

🎶 “If you wanna go to Heaven you should f*ck me tonight” - Halsey, Young God

🎶“Holy feeling - the type your god can’t give you but baby I would be willing” - Greyson Chance, Holy Feeling

“One touch and I say hallelujah. I waited so long, I’ll never move on, your love is a shortcut to Heaven” - lullaboy, Shortcut to Heaven

🎶 “They say all good boys go to Heaven, but bad boys bring Heaven to you” - Julia Michaels, Heaven

🎶“I don’t think I have ever been in love like this before. Like the Holy Ghost is wrapped up in the clothes thrown on your floor.” - Buzz, Maddie Medley

🎶“You make me feel like Heaven needs to take its time” - Side Effects, JOSEPH

🎶“If the heavens ever did speak, she’s the last true mouthpiece” & “My church offers no absolution, she tells me worship in the bedroom. The only heaven I’ll be sent to is when I’m alone with you” - Hozier, Take Me to Church

🎶“Religion’s in your lips even if it’s a false god we’d still worship” - Taylor Swift, False God

🎶 “You were a vision in the morning when the light came through. I know I’ve only felt religion when I’ve lied with you” - Halsey, Colors

🎶“In the land of gods & monsters, I was an angel looking to get f*cked hard” - Lana Del Ray, Gods & Monsters

🎶 “Holy verses in his lips - he was your Bible” - Jon Bellion, Run Wild

🎶“Holy, holy, holy” - King Princess, Holy

🎶“Your p*ssy is god and I love it” & “You know that it’s god baby when you’re around her. I’ve been praying for hours” King Princess, P*ssy is God

🎶“Not God. Not us, but something in the middle. But you know I was still down on my knees like it was a religion” - Blegh, His Hands

🎶 “Boy, you know I’ve tried to pray - I’ve bruised my knees - I’ve tried to bring you back to me. I’ve tried my best to find some kind of peace” - Griff, Black Hole

🎶 “say yes to Heaven - say yes to me” - Lana Del Rey, Say Yes to Heaven

✨ 🌓 🖤 🥀 📖

I spent way too long on this. Here’s a link to my Hot Girl Blasphemy playlist if you’re interested: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4ONweoYWpSwGNoYB4N0Ddo?si=3u6fgZ_-STeK1nQX7OsvOQ

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Christmas Medley The Worship Network | Featuring Acoustic Eidolon from "The Joy of Christmas."

[raz-b-rose]

Worship at Church today was beautiful! And I want to share the worship. So what songs did you sing today? Lets make a playlist out of this. 

We sang:

“Crown Him with Many Crowns” by  Matthew Bridges

A Resurrection Day Medley made up of --

“Christ the Lord is Risen Today” by  Charles Wesley

“Christ Arose” by  Robert Lowry

“Lord, I Lift Your Name on High” by  Rick Founds

“Oh Happy Day” by  Laura Pausini

“Jesus Paid it All” by Elvina M. Hall

“Agnus Dei” by Michael W. Smith

“King of Kings” by Hillsong Worship

“Glorious Day” by Passion 

“It is Finished” by Dustin Kensrue

[naijagospel]

[VIDEO] "Worship Medley" - Pastor Nonso

Gospel music minister, songwriter, and recording artist Pastor Nonso is out with an intense worship medley. This is coming months after the successful release of his five-track extended play (EP), “Peace.” The “Worship Medley” was recorded live and it captures songs like “Majesty, Kadosh, Let every other name, I love you Lord” and many other amazing popular sounds. This beautiful sound will get…

[joaoaraujo1]

Teacher: Shirlya

Alunos:

João Araújo, Samuel Melo e Nayara dos Santos

Tema: música gospel.

gospel music:

Gospel music (from English gospel; in Portuguese, "gospel")[1] is a type of music composed to express belief, individual or community, predominantly Christian.

Gospel music is written and performed for many reasons with a religious or even ceremonial motive, or as an entertainment product for the commercial market. However, the obligatory theme addressed in gospel music is praise, worship or thanks to God.

history:

Gospel is black Christian music in the United States of America. Perhaps one of the old styles of black music that really came close to gospel was the negro spiritual. The focus of this brief history is the music that flowed from the Afro-American church gave rise to various musical styles such as blues that influenced country music that constitute contemporary folk, rhythm and blues known as R&B, jazz, soul, which gave rise to rock and roll to hip hop, which gave rise to pop music, and inspired a cornucopia of modern choirs, artists from the contemporary R&B market and the current contemporary gospel (contemporary Christian music), in addition to other musical styles of the genre.

origin:

Thomas A. Dorsey (1899-1993), a successful songwriter like There Will Be Peace in the Valley, is considered by many to be the Father of Gospel Music. Early in his career he was a leading blues pianist, known alias Georgia Tom. He began writing gospel after he heard Charles A. Tindley (1851-1933) at a musicians' convention in Philadelphia, and later, abandoning the more aggressive of other songs, did not abandon, however, the jazz rhythm so similar to Tindley's. The Church initially disliked Dorsey's style and did not think it was appropriate for the sanctuary at the time. In 1994, after his death, the North American magazine, Score, published an article with the title: The Father of gospel music (in Portuguese, "O Pai da Música gospel"); in this article the magazine states that when Dorsey realized early in his gospel career that many people were fighting gospel music, he was "determined to carry the flag" for gospel, of course. So he did. He invested in 500 copies of his song, If you See My Savior (in Portuguese, "Se Você Ver o meu Salvador") and sent it to several churches in the country. It took almost three years for him to get more requests for the song and he almost returned to playing the blues. But Dorsey didn't give up and with help from other good musicians he went ahead.

Gospel music in the 90's (Brazil)

Old evangelical hymns 1990s. In that decade, several artists of the gospel genre emerged and great evangelical hymns marked the time. Remember songs like “Oferta de amor "Renova-me”, “Alto preço”, “Reina Senhor”, “Jesus em tua presença”, “Medley da vitória ”, “Deus cuida de mim” and many others.

gospel singers in the 90s ( Brazil):

Kleber Lucas

Cassiane

Aline Barros 

among others...

another group was very successful in the late nineties (1997) the group "Diante do trono"

Diante do Trono (also known as DT) is a Brazilian musical group of contemporary Christian and congregational music formed in 1997 at Lagoinha Baptist Church, in the city of Belo Horizonte. It is led by singer, songwriter and pastor Ana Paula Valadão.[citation needed] The group has become popular in Brazil since the release of its first album in 1998: Diante do Trono. However, it was from the albums Águas Purificadoras and Quero de Ti, from 2000 and 2001, respectively, that it acquired international relevance, becoming the largest worship ministry in Latin America and one of the largest ministries of praise, worship and missions in the world. .[1] It was also considered one of the most successful bands in Brazilian music.[

Playlist:

[ngdagreatsongs]

[bkbro69]

Hope Medley | Willow Worship