#also *i* don’t want to get sick either!!!!!!

[awrkive]

tlp xmas special — jjk (m.)

hello awrkive nation!!! its late but merry christmas to those who celebrate!! sorry for being ia but heres a christmas gift from me to you 🫣 first of all i genuinely forgot abt the car s*x drabble that won that poll i made a few weeks ago which i promised you guys ISHDJDJ but here it is!! this drabble combines all of these three recurring requests for the tlp couple and this might also be the last drabble im doing for them (for now??) so do enjoy!!

pairing: tlp!jungkook x tlp!oc (main story)

summary: in which jungkook looks way too good carrying your sister's three-year old at her christmas eve party and you can't help but let your mind wander

w/c: 6k (ctfu)

warning/s: explicit sexual content (p in v s*x, car s*x, unprotected s*x, cre*mpie), oc having baby fever lol. genuinely not proofread sorry for any errors!

You find babies mesmerizing. They’re charming, they can be a handful, they’re irresistibly cute; so tiny, yet so loud. But to the core, they somehow manage to be a pure embodiment of joy.

Before Nayeon got pregnant, she shared something about having a “baby fever”. Of course you knew what it meant – but you never really felt it yourself. She said it was something about Minhyuk being such a good husband that she couldn’t wait for him to be a father. Well, you related to that specific part, at least; about your own husband being such a good husband. However, for the past year you’ve become a married couple, you never really thought about having babies. Or him being a father. Or you being a mother. 

It’s not like you don’t want to become a mother, like ever, or have a family with him. It’s just you thought you’re still way too young to be having babies. So you kind of just… gloss or skip over that idea – and for the record, Jungkook’s never brought it up, either. 

It’s not until your sister got pregnant for the second time, though, that you got yourself thinking. Seokjin and her had babies almost four years into their marriage, but it’s not very long until they decided to try again after Nari and now your sister is carrying her baby boy for seven months. 

It brings you here, gathered at their house for Christmas Eve. Your families haven’t arrived yet, but you and Jungkook decided to go earlier than the agreed time to help out with the – admittedly, big preparation. And currently, Jungkook’s got Nari – Seokjin and your sister’s 3-year-old – in his arms, asking for raspberries because Jungkook’s her favorite uncle. (Why wouldn’t he be? He spoils her a lot and carries her around when you come over.) He insisted on looking after her so Seokjin can help your sister out in the kitchen while you’re over at the counter island making some charcuterie.

Seokjin’s helping your sister take out the pies they’ve both prepared, with him guarding her and being extra with it because “my wife is pregnant and I’m growing white hairs because she wouldn’t just let me do everything”. Your sister is just so done chastising him for his overbearing antics, but you guess it’s cute, at the core of it all. You’ve always looked up to their relationship all these years. In fact, you kind of see Seokjin in Jungkook sometimes. Seokjin loves your sister the way Jungkook loves you. 

And then, the thought passes over your head like some form of looming possibility, unsettling yet intriguing. It lingers for a moment, uninvited but persistent, as if life is quietly hinting at something you’ve never truly considered before. The idea of a baby, of parenthood, feels distant but somehow more tangible now—like a door you never saw, now standing slightly ajar, waiting for you to decide whether to step through.

Would Jungkook be just as (lovingly) overbearing if you were pregnant? You imagine he’d be even more annoying about it. It’s rare for you to get sick, but when you do, Jungkook practically flips the house upside down just to make sure you don’t have to lift a finger. Takes care of you so seriously, as if the illness would never go away on its own in a few days. So what would it be like if you were carrying his child? Would he act like Seokjin does now, always hovering with a hand on your back, supporting your every move, scolding you if you try to do anything that requires even a little bit of effort?

The thought makes your lips curl. Because he probably would. You know he will. 

And as you look at him from across the room, carrying Nari around effortlessly against his body with one arm, with his red long-sleeve polo shirt pushed up to his forearms, white slacks, and freshly cut hair slicked to perfection for tonight’s occasion, he looks… delectable. 

Like a DILF. 

Except he isn’t a dad. 

But god, would you really, really like to fuck him. 

(And would he look way hotter if he – say – gave you a child?)

“Is it done?” Your sister interrupts your thoughts – thankfully, might you add. Because it’s going in a direction that’s way too inappropriate for a family occasion like this, and you need to be family friendly tonight for this Christmas party. 

When you turn around to see if she was talking to you, you find her looking at her husband instead, and with her stance and the tone of her voice, you know it doesn’t sound good. 

“Yeah. I think I just need to add a little more—” 

“Jin,” she says, sounding a little distressed. “Hurry. And make sure it’s perfect, okay? Everyone’s arriving in fifteen, and this is the first time I’m hosting Christmas and I really, really don’t want to disappoint your family and Jungkook’s parents and mom and—” 

“Hey,” You see Seokjin put a hand on the lower part of your sister’s back, effectively cutting her off. Gently, he tells her, “Everything’s perfect, alright?” 

Soft tunes of Christmas songs are playing all over the huge open space of their house, and you know you’re not supposed to listen in to the conversation given that they’re spoken in an almost hushed manner as some sort of discretion, but you can’t help but notice when she turns to Seokjin to give him a downturned smile.

“I just really want to give this my all…” 

He smiles down at her reassuringly. “You have, honey. Let’s not stress, okay? Not good for baby, remember?” Then, he begins to rub her protruding belly, and you see her visibly relaxing to his touch. 

You turn around quickly to not get caught watching, only to be welcomed with Jungkook making a beeline towards you, with Nari still in his arms. 

“Hi, baby,” Your sister automatically greets Nari, cooing at her, mood immediately picking up. The bright-eyed little girl lights up at the sight of her mommy, making grabby hands instantly. Laughing, Jungkook hands her to Seokjin, who receives his daughter and kisses her chubby cheeks with a smack. 

“What were you up to with uncle JK, little missy?” Seokjin says, swaying her side to side. 

Jungkook leans his elbow on the island while looking at the pair, smiling widely.

“Uncle JK said he’s giving me three presents! Three! I wanna open them!” She holds up three fingers, and you giggle at her cuteness.

Your sister softly laughs in response. “Your uncle likes to spoil you, sweetie. But we’ll open them later, okay?”

“Why not now?” She whines, and you smile at how seriously she takes it. “I want three presents!”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin laughs, “You’ll have lots of surprises when the grandmas and grandpas get here. But we need to change into your dress first.”

Nari giggles. “You? You’re gonna wear a dress too?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, why not?”

She shakes her head, still giggling, her pigtails swaying as she does so. God, she looks like a combination of Seokjin and your sister that it’s so uncanny sometimes.

“You’re so silly, daddy.”

Seokjin feigns shock. “Silly? Just wait, Uncle JK and I are going to be Ariel and Belle for New Year’s! Right, Jungkook?” He looks over at Jungkook, who widens his eyes comically.

You laugh, and Jungkook adds, “Well, I wanted to be Cinderella, but sure, I’ll be Belle.”

Nari gasps dramatically, putting her hand over her mouth. “But she’s my favorite, Uncle JK! You can’t be her!”

She’s such a cute kid – and you know everybody in the room agrees. No doubt her mom and dad think so, but when you look over at Jungkook, he’s cheesing really hard – with his nose scrunched into that expression of cute aggression. 

“These two boys are silly.” Your sister interrupts with a playful roll of her eyes. She looks at her husband Nari, “Honey, take Nari upstairs and dress her up, please.”

“I can wear my new dress now?!” Nari shrieks, excitement showing with the way she wiggles in her father’s hold.

“Absolutely, baby, and the sparkly white shoes, too,” Seokjin nods. You all coo when Nari lets out an adorable, delighted “yay!” at the words, already leaning towards the direction of the stairs and telling her father to hurry. With a chuckle, Seojin turns to you. “Alright. And Jungkook, please help her with the food.” Seokjin’s gaze falls to your sister, a reminder before he goes completely.

“She’s so cute, I can’t.” Jungkook chuckles.

“Right… my sister was definitely not that cute when we were younger.” you tease, earning an arched brow to your way from your sister. 

“I was the cuter one between us, it’s an established fact,” she rolls her eyes. “When you two get a kid, it better look like Jungkook.” 

Maybe the remark sounded like such a throw-away comment that Jungkook just laughs it off as if it isn’t the first time somebody hinted at you two starting a family. Or maybe he just thinks it isn’t a big deal. Or maybe… maybe he likes the idea? 

You’re about to say something when your sister turns to you.

“You,” she takes you by the shoulders and you look back at her. “You might want to retouch your make-up. Party’s starting soon. And this charcuterie looks—” she looks to the side as if to check if Nari is still around, and when she deems she isn’t at all, she continues to say, “fucking perfect. I love you.” 

“Duh.” you reply, cockily showing off the board to her and to Jungkook who intriguingly looks at your work. 

“I knew you should have been a chef.” Jungkook comments proudly, grinning at you.

“Alright, man,” your sister says in a flat tone, making Jungkook and you laugh. “Jungkook, can help me transfer these to the dining table, please?” She points to the trays of food and Jungkook rounds the counter so he can do just as she requested. 

Before you can head to the powder room, Jungkook brushes past your waist – just one of the candid things he does to have some sort of physical contact with you when you’re not necessarily talking together or close to each other.

It puts a smile on your face as you enter the powder room. 

Inside, you make quick work of putting another layer of lipstick and pressing powder on your face, checking your hair before you stand upright and look at your reflection in the mirror.

You step backwards enough to see half of your body, and from there, you can see how beautiful you look in the outfit you’ve chosen for tonight. It’s a satin red dress with a halter neckline, the gathered drape cascading gracefully around your neck, exposing your shoulders. The silhouette fits at the waist and flows into a straight skirt that stops inches below your knees, and Jungkook may have had a hard time letting you go in your bedroom before you drove to your sister’s place – but you promised him a good time when you get back home so in the end, he had to tuck in a semi on the way from here.

Poor Jungkook. 

Though… you’re beginning to think poor you, instead.

Because you’re thinking about it again. Him in his outfit tonight; the silk polo so he can match yours, and the way he looked so good with a baby girl in his strong arms. 

You can already picture how good he'd look with his own child. He’d be the type of dad who looks effortlessly hot with a baby carrier, showers his kids with gifts because he can’t help himself, and simply excels at being a wonderful father because he’s Jeon Jungkook and he excels in everything he sets his mind to.

Now your brain’s going on a haywire. 

Because now it’s just Jungkook. Hot Jungkook. Jungkook with a baby. Jungkook looking smoking hot carrying his own baby – your baby. 

And wouldn’t it be nice? To carry a being formed by your mutual love? To have someone as adorable and smart and sassy as Nari? God. You hope she’d look like you, but have Jungkook’s eyes because they are your favorite part of him, and then his nose, maybe? And… and maybe have the mole under his lip too, if that was possible. Jungkook had a lot of hair when he came out of his mom’s womb, would your daughter have a lot of hair as well when you give birth to her? 

And why are you already thinking of the gender of your non-existent child? 

You think you’ve gone nuts, but the indulgent little devil on your shoulder is insisting that Jungkook would look so good with a baby girl because you know he’d be such a girl dad. There’s just absolutely no doubt about it, given how he treats Nari. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror again, and absentmindedly, you turn to the side, noting the very clear absence of a bump on your stomach unlike your sister’s. 

Would you carry a baby as gracefully as her? You know her struggles… but… maybe you won’t mind it with a husband like Jungkook… right? Just like she doesn’t mind with a husband like Seokjin. Because Jungkook takes really good care of you. He’d probably panic more than you about certain things. Be extra careful for the both of you. Fetch you your cravings. Love you more than he does now. 

You remember Seokjin rubbing a gentle hand over your sister’s bump, and it brings your own to caress the flat of your stomach over the smooth fabric of your dress. 

Obviously no baby there. But… just imagine. You with a baby bump.

Hah. 

Weird, because it’s the first time the idea’s planted in your head and you kind of like it more than you thought. 

You nibble on your bottom lip as you continue to caress your tummy, not noticing the knock that came from outside. 

“Oh my—” 

“Baby?” 

“Jungkook.” Your hands retreat back to your sides. When you look at Jungkook, standing on the doorway, you let one hand clutch at your chest as you tell him, “You scared me.” 

The door clicks as he locks it behind him. Your husband arches his brow as he goes over to you. “What are you so jumpy for?” 

You ignore the question, looking back to the mirror again to fix your dress. But as you do so, you see his reflection – and you catch how he intently stares at you through the glass as well, walking behind you closer and pressing himself against you. His proximity suddenly makes you nervous.

“You should’ve knocked.” 

“I did. You didn’t answer.” 

“I didn’t hear.” When you turn around, Jungkook takes a curled strand of hair over your face and tucks it behind your ear. 

“You look beautiful. So gorgeous.” He says before he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your lips, one that you welcome fully even though you just reapplied your lipstick. When you break away, you see some remnants on his lips… and realize you picked the wrong lipstick for tonight. You should’ve brought the kiss-proof lippy instead.

You wipe it off and Jungkook smiles before he ducks down, not caring, and kisses your cheek for good measure before he speaks again, “What were you doing in here?” He wiggles his eyebrows, as if he knows you were up to something before he barged in. 

You avoid his gaze and turn back around. 

“Nothing,” You say, trying to busy yourself with your hair again. But Jungkook can be really annoying when he wants to be, so of course he pushes, quite literally and figuratively. 

“What was it? I saw you…” He teases, pushing his nose in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tightening his hold around you. 

“What did you– Jungkook!” You half-snort and scoff when Jungkook bites your neck playfully. You turn around to push him, but he’s insistent on keeping the nonexistent space between you and cages you in his big presence instead, trapping you in between the edge of the sink and the heat of his body. 

“This damn dress…” Jungkook whispers as he splays his hand over your stomach, which makes your breath hitch. 

Did he really see? See you pretending to have a baby bump at the thought of him impregnating you? 

But Jungkook doesn’t really say anything further, just lets an idle finger run over the curve of your hips up to your waist, until it stops at the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Can’t wait to fuck you in this.” He whispers in your ear, eyes meeting your gaze in the mirror, not subtle in the way he checks out your body after. 

You huff out a scoff, giving a little more force into the push that you give him this time. His more relaxed hold on you makes him stumble a little bit backwards, chuckling when you roll your eyes at him once again. 

“You’re not even gonna take it off me?” You ask as your turn on the tap, arching your brow at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror. 

A sly smirk makes an appearance on his lips. “I don’t need to take anything off to make you cum, baby.” 

You turn around, leaning on the sink. “So you’re saying you’re not interested at all about my very elaborate choice of underwear tonight, then?” 

That catches him off guard, his brows furrowed in confusion and then realization.

“You minx.” 

You chuckle, swatting his hand away when he tries to touch you. When he whines, you take a step forward and wrap your arms around his neck, and Jungkook’s predictably eager to encircle your waist in his arms back again. 

“Later. We have to keep it PG for at least three hours tonight. And you can—” you push at his chest for leverage so you can lean down a little to ride your dress up your thighs. Looking at Jungkook, you watch as he stares at you closely, intently, but oblivious to what you’re doing. He clearly enjoys it, though, judging from the hint of a smile on his lips and the shine in his eyes when more of your skin gets revealed. 

Especially when he catches a glimpse of your white lace underwear that he bought for you himself.

He whistles, and you roll your eyes at the predictable reaction. Taking one of his hands off you, you guide it in between your thighs, earning an involuntary moan from you because Jungkook’s palm automatically cups your heat when he gets close. 

“Ah…” 

“Fuck…” Jungkook looks down where his hand meets your core. “Goddamn,” He says, then you feel him push your panties to the side, dipping the tip of his finger in your pussy. “Why the fuck are you so wet, baby?”

“Y-yeah…” You whine against his chest, gripping his wrist when he attempts to move again. “Kook, don’t.” 

Jungkook halts. He looks at you. Then, he nods. “Alright. Alright. Stop this here?” 

“Hm.” 

He looks down at you with an arched brow. “You started it, though.” 

“You were being flirty.” You say as Jungkook brings your underwear back in place, but not without squeezing your ass first. You nibble on your bottom lip as he rides down the dress, letting it dangle on your knees back again, smoothing the front for you to get rid of the wrinkles. 

“Not my fault you’re hot,” he snorts. “Fuck.” 

“What?” 

“I’m kinda hard…” He says, and you both look down to the bump on his white slacks. Certainly not his full potential (like… you’d know), but it’s still apparent in the light color of his trouser. 

“Poor baby,” you say, can’t help but pat it a little condescendingly which earns a chuckle from Jungkook, him playfully swatting your hand away. 

“You’re so…” 

“I’m so what.” 

Jungkook’s face is a mixture of frustration and amusement. “You always do this shit.” 

You giggle, knowing exactly what he means. But you act like you have no clue. “What?” 

“Get me horny then leave.” He shakes his head, then pokes your waist. 

Chuckling, you kiss him on the cheek quickly, making a beeline to the door quickly lest he tries to kiss you again (and you’ll have no choice but to make out in your sister’s powder room, during her big Christmas party, mind you) and then give him a wink before you go.

 

The ride on the way home felt like it took sixty five years, and it might just be true especially when you’re horny as hell and you got a husband behind the steering wheel looking effortlessly hot in his element. 

You’ve been hot and bothered for hours, and maybe it’s the champagne – probably has gotten in your brain or whatever – but Jungkook was not even done parking when you made a move to palm him over the console. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook hissed, clearly not expecting it at all. He had that wide-eyed look when he frantically turned off the engine, staring at you while your hand grew heavy on his crotch. “Here?” You bit on your bottom lip as you nodded your head. He looked beyond conflicted. “But baby, we’re just ten floors away from our u–”

“Please?” 

And what was he supposed to say? No? 

Absolutely not. Not when your glassy eyes looked so pleading the way they did.   

He just makes your insides churn, especially when you look at him. And for the past few hours, you couldn’t stop thinking about his dick inside you and most especially his cum. (Translation: You can’t stop thinking about him fucking a baby into you).

But… the thing was, you’ve only ever fucked in a car once.

Jungkook’s way too pesky about stuff like that, and somehow, even though he’s already been made aware of your exhibitionist tendencies (cue unprompted sex in public areas like that one time in the beach, window sex at a Ritz hotel back in London and… admittedly many more…) car sex was just… a least favorite. The first and only time you did it was when you were still fresh into dating; at a drive-thru cinema, but it was kind of a whack in both your opinions because it was too cramped up and you bumped your head and you almost got caught which is way too embarrassing of a memory to ever revisit. 

But now maybe that really doesn't matter anymore.

Not when your husband looks like that.

And bottomline is: you just really, really want him to cum in you. 

Oh god. What is wrong with your head tonight? 

“Baby, fuuuck,” Jungkook hisses as you speed up your rhythm up and down his cock. His boxers and slacks are pushed down to the middle of his thighs while his shirt is all but buttoned. Meanwhile, your dress is bunched up in your mid-section. 

You’re near tears on his lap at this point, already feeling your thighs straining at the force you’re exerting in every bounce – but you couldn’t care less. 

“Oh my god, baby– you feel so good,” you moan, eyes shutting close at the feel of his tip hitting that spot inside you whenever you go down.

For the first few minutes, Jungkook took it upon himself to guide your hips in every movement just like he always does when you ride him like this, pounding into you from underneath, but he eventually let you control the pace, leaning way back to the reclined seat and watches you work instead. He stares at you with hooded eyes as you push yourself up and down on his hardened cock, stiletto heels digging the side of his thighs occasionally.

While you pleasure yourself on him, he slides your dress up further, gets a little frustrated that it’s tight on the waist so he can’t push it past your tits. So he feels for your nape to find the zipper because he knows it’s there – he zipped you up in this dress before you drove to your sister’s place – and he delights when he finds the small, cold material, pulling it down blindly until you noticed and help him get yourself out of it. 

Jungkook sighs when the top comes down, snapping the clip of your sleeveless bra and getting it out of the way before he greedily fondles your now bare breasts in his huge palms. 

“Ohh,” you moan when Jungkook flicks your nipples, getting them even harder. You push yourself back, leaning into one elbow on the steering wheel as you begin to rock against him in a back and forth motion,

“Fuck—” Jungkook lets out a guttural groan, squeezing your tits tighter that makes you keen in want. “So fucking sexy, baby. Shit – damn – l-love you.” 

“I-I love you too,” you say, more like a whine, chasing a high he knows is impending. 

Jungkook looks up at you with hooded eyes. Your hair that was once tidy and neat three hours ago is now all over the place, the high bun loosening and some strands falling off your pretty face. Your lipstick smudged and he’s sure the remnants are on his lips, and with your mouth agaped in that erotic o-shape while you pleasure yourself on his cock, Jungkook feels like exploding. 

“Ah– shit,” he groans, feeling the warm crevice of your wet pussy swallow him whole. When you climbed over his lap a while ago after he fingered you, he was gonna take out a condom from the glove compartment but you insisted to not use it, and the picture of you looking down while he pushed your panties to the side and looked into each other’s eyes as you sank down on him is still playing in his head like a broken record.

God fuck damn, you’re just so unreal. The love of his life. His wife. 

He wipes your tear-stained cheeks, torn because he doesn’t like seeing you cry but he does like it when it’s because you’re so eager to bounce on his cock that even though you know you’re pushing it, you continue to do so.

Jungkook lets his hand travel from a boob to linger on your cheek, and he keens on the way you purr when you lean into his touch, smiling slightly when you open your mouth as his thumb nears it. 

You eagerly suck it as if verbally prompted, opening your eyes just so you can stare at his as you lewdly slobber over his finger while you expertly move against his cock, breasts jiggling up and down right in front of his face – the obscene squelches of your lovemaking filling the air of his cramped up benz. 

“You’re so perfect, baby,” Jungkook whispers. “Perfect girl. You love bouncing on my cock, love? Just couldn’t wait until we get home? Hm?” His tone is a bit condescending and cocky. 

When Jungkook takes out his finger from your mouth, you bite your lip as you nod, resuming your up and down motion again. Slamming down on his dick, your hands come up to grip his shoulders tight. 

“We are home.” 

Jungkook chuckles, a rich and dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. A snarky remark gets buried in your throat when you feel a certain zap of electricity coming from your toes to your spine, the hot coil in your stomach edging to burst.

“I’m cumming– oh my god, Jungkook– baby I’m cumming—” You say, speeding up your pace once again. 

With your breasts bouncing in front of his face like that, he couldn’t help but dive right into it, wrapping his lips around one nipple, nipping and sucking and licking, while he busies one hand with fondling the other. He alternated in between both tits, groaning and grunting when your pussy tightens around him, and one more slam on his cock gets you spiraling as you finally cum. 

Jungkook closes his eyes when he feels you gush around him, and he really wishes that he could lay you down, spread you out, and eat the slick right out of you just like how he likes it.

“That’s it, baby – fuck. Good girl, good girl.” 

A long, drawl-out moan slips past your lips, and Jungkook takes it upon himself to keep you bouncing on his cock when your energy dwindles down, rocking his hips upwards, just as eager to reach his high as well. 

You try to pick up your pace to help him, planting your palms on his bare chest to meet his thrusts. 

“Fuck baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” Jungkook says in a hushed whisper, groaning, squeezing your ass tight that you know will leave marks the next day. 

“I know, baby – cum for me,” You lean down to capture his lips, whimpering when you feel yourself still coming down from your high.

“Ohh fuuck—” Jungkook moans, a tell-tale sign of his orgasm. “Fuck, I’m cumming—” 

It’s almost second nature the way he looks down on your crotch, hand going over to where you meet – and you almost panic when you realize what he’s about to do. 

“Jungkook, no,” you stop his hand, and he looks at you with utter confusion, rightfully so. Biting your lip, you stare into his eyes as you say, “I want you to come inside me.” 

You watch as his eyes widen, then, “You sure?” He says with furrowed brows.

You nod your head frantically. “Please come in me. I want your come in me. Please, please—” 

“Jesus fuck—” Jungkook’s hips stutter, his grip on yours tightening, gaze darkening as he processes your words. “Fuck. Okay, baby. No need to beg, okay? Fuck. I’ll come inside you.” 

You speed up your pace and you can feel yourself getting there for a second time, and maybe it’s the heat of the moment, but your next words fall from your lips without much thought: “Yeah, yeah –give it to me, Kook. Want your– ah– want your babies.” 

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses, taken aback by your words. “Fuuuck…” He looks up at you, grabs your waist and makes you lean closer. “You mean that?” 

You nod your head, jumping on his cock up and down like your life depends on it. “Want your babies. Want you to cum in me.” 

“Shiiitt,” Jungkook sighs, and you feel him getting harder by the second. “Gonna– gonna fuck a baby in you, baby. Fuck. You don’t know what you do to me– shit, I’m cumming.” 

You both moan in unison when Jungkook finally releases inside you the same time you do so, his cock hardening in your walls, throbbing when you settle down on his lap with him still buried inside you. When the seconds pass, you feel the exhaustion wrapping around you, and you let Jungkook trail kisses up your shoulders and neck at the post-coital momentum. 

“Fuck, that was so hot.” He whispers against your lips, kissing your parted mouth. You sigh against it, all sweaty and fucked out. 

“Oh, baby…” You moan when Jungkook lifts you up and you feel yourself dripping from your cum. 

“Fucking hell, so beautiful baby...” Jungkook trails off, squeezing your breasts before pushing you gently to lean back on the steering wheel. You look down as you watch with a gasp when he slides his cock out from your heat, covered in white and slick, moaning lewdly when he pumps it out for more. 

Some of it spurts on your pussy, and you stare in awe when Jungkook inserts the tip once again in your heat, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the blurred lines between pleasure and overstimulation. 

“Goddammit.” Jungkook sighs, gratified, tapping his cock on your pussy a few times before he grabs your hips again so he can kiss you on the mouth. It almost gives you whiplash when he looks at you with such sincere and genuine eyes as he says, “I love you.” 

“Love you,” you say, closing your eyes when his kisses trail to your jaw and his hands come up to fondle your tits again. His favorite fixation – his words, not yours. “Kook.” 

“Hm.” 

“Sticky.” 

He hums again. You keep your position like that for a few more seconds before Jungkook helps put your panties and dress back in place, picking you up slightly as you climb over the passenger seat. 

You watch as he pulls his boxers and pants back up, buckling his belt around the waist. He hasn’t fixed the unbuttoned state of his shirt yet before he looks at you again with a smile.

“Come here, you,” He says, beckoning you to come closer with his arm around your seat. You grin, crossing the console again to meet the kiss he gives your mouth. Then, Jungkook breaks the contact, caressing your cheek as he speaks. “Babies, huh?” He brings up, eyes so bright; delighted, excited. He has that unshakeable grin. 

And you can’t help but mirror it. 

“Do you want to?” You ask instead. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously wait for his answer that doesn’t really take that long. 

“Fuck, yeah. If you want to, then I want to,” he responds. Then, he adds, “And I really, really want to.”

“Okay…” you say, biting your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much. “But it doesn’t have to be now. Or I don’t know. I know it’s only been a year since we got married and all that—” 

“Baby, stop,” Jungkook says before you can finish your thought. “Doesn’t matter if we were one month into the marriage. As long as you’re ready, then I’m ready. Are you ready?”

A few beats. 

It was your horny-adled brain that got you in this position in the first place – but you think about how life with Jungkook would be like with kids added in the equation in the near future.

It would be so far from bad. 

The past year had been nothing short of bliss since you married him, and as you watched Jungkook, a thought warmed your heart: he’d be an incredible dad. The way he loves you, so deeply and selflessly, leaves no doubt in your mind that he’d go above and beyond for your child—or children. You’re certain he’d love them as much as he loves you, perhaps even more.

A smile spreads across your face, and you nod to his question.

“I want a family with you, Kook.”

Jungkook’s face lights up with a delighted smile, mirroring yours. “So, we’re doing this?”

You nod again, biting your lip to temper your excitement.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

You blink at him in surprise. “Why are you thanking me?”

He shakes his head with a gentle smile and leans in to kiss you again. “Just… thank you.”

You furrow your brows, squinting at him in playful confusion. Before you can say more, he leans forward and nips the tip of your nose.

“Ow!” you exclaim, laughing.

“You’re cute,” Jungkook teases. “But we’ve gotta clean up and head home. Then, we can keep practicing putting my baby in you—on a nice, comfortable bed this time.” He winks, pecking your cheek as he buttons his shirt and unbuckles his seatbelt.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you do the same. “Admit it, you like car sex.”

Jungkook hums nonchalantly, his cheeky grin giving him away. You chuckle, shaking your head at him, love radiating in every moment between you.

[thebibliosphere]

You know what, that’s fair. It was a throwaway comment meant to be funny and also poke fun at how few votes this poll actually had (at the time of my reblog it had 3k, now it’s 13k) compared to how many actually chronically ill people are on here re: fromkenari’s comment about feeling out of place because of their dash experience.

(And even then there’s so way the number is so small as 13k because so many people don’t even realize they have a chronic illness because of how these things get played down.)

But reading it in the morning I can see how it doesn't read that way, and that's my bad. I am sorry, I should have either expanded on that or just hit reblog without comment.

- - -

Also, this next bit isn't to detract from anything you just said, all the points above are 100% on the money, I’m just going to do some MCAS comfort here for those of us who often feel excluded by the above and I don’t want anyone to snap back at you for making very valid and true points. This is just currently a sore spot in a few online places.

---

Hey mast cell folk: The above isn’t about us.

I know the most common narrative we see online is that ‘chronically ill people don’t go to the ER because they’re used to being sick’ and it can feel really crummy and alienating when it feels like we’re in the ER every other month (sometimes multiple times in a month) but that's the difference between having a ‘‘‘stable’’’ chronic illness and having an acute chronic illness.

Also, let’s be real, we also don’t always go to the ER when we should because we’re ‘used to it.’

Our bodies just sometimes explode in ways that cannot be mediated without emergency medical attention, making the inevitable debt unavoidable. And let me be clear, it cannot be avoided. There’s a lot you can tough out at home but anaphylaxis isn’t one of them. You’re not bad at being chronically ill, you just have an acute chronic illness.

Going back go my original comment, it might be more accurste to say that we are the Spiders George of chronic illness when it comes to ER trips, but we still count. Click the poll.

For the purposes of this poll, do NOT count the following:

Your own birth (unless there were complications/urgent concerns)

Routine check-ups or scheduled-in-advance appointments that just happened to be at a hospital

Visiting or accompanying someone else to the hospital

Use your discretion as to whether to count visits to urgent care.

–

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

[londonfog-chan]

Emperor Caracalla x Reader: Asklēpiós

A/N: I promised one day I would write for my precious little lad. Now that day has come.

Also, if you’re not nearsighted and legally blind without glasses like me, you are now. Congrats.

Warnings: mentions of abuse and neglect, prostitution, STD/STI mention, Female Reader

Credits: dividers by @strangergraphics

“Come now, Agapi, won’t you be agreeable?”

Caracalla’s lips pressed tightly together into a thin line. Head turned to the side in defiance.

Slender fingers tapped against his pock-marked cheek— a gentle coax to open that pretty mouth of his. But as usual, he scrunched his aquiline nose and shook his head in vehement protest. Night time was a gamble with Caracalla. One never knew what version of him they would get. Would you have the monster with enough physical strength to turn over a lectus with someone laying upon it? Or would you have the sniveling, crying angel, who buried his face in your breast and begged for affection.

“You promised, Agapi.” you said, running a finger along the length of his nose bridge, “You said you would take your chinaroot for me.”

“The horse piss herb?!” He whined, swatting your hand away, “I don’t want it!”

“You did promise me you would take it as I asked.” You said, using your calloused fingers to brush his strawberry blonde bangs from his forehead, “Or did you lie to me, Agapi? Me, of all people.”

Pink lips pouted in quiet contemplation. You could see the conflict in his slate blue eyes. Below the surface of his pink cheeked charm, a feverish, maddened mind was working to determine whether or not to deny, lash out, or seek forgiveness. Treading carefully when it came to your emotions, you knew he was warring with his own impulse.

Since his affliction, the other concubines of the realm refused to lie with Imperator Geta’s brother or even go near him at all. Not since they had given you to him had anyone bothered of late to reciprocate his touch. The isolation was fraying his nerves. He became moody, volatile. Constantly lashing out when he called out for pleasure, and only got you instead.

“I want pleasure! Not this piglet!” Caracalla screamed that first night.

You were frozen under Geta’s clutching of your shoulders, and gasped softly as you were pushed forward into Caracalla’s furry chest.

“You’d infect our courtesans with your disease, take what I give you and be grateful for that at all!” Geta had growled back, a cupful of wine to the face enough to silence his brother as the both of you were drenched in sanguine liquid.

You were not stupid enough to question your place. They gave you to Caracalla as a joke. Lesser goods for the lesser brother. You were not comely and lithe like the others. Admittedly you were rather plain, a Hellene from Chora who had been treating the infected in the concubine’s quarters. More of a servant’s apprentice than a vessel for the imperator’s bastards, and for a time you preferred things as they were. Treating the sick. Nursing them to health. It was a peaceful existence.

Not even the praetorian guard dogs wanted to touch you. Another aspect of the general disinterest was the semi state of blindness you lived in. It got steadily worse from childhood until now, when you could not perceive eight paces before you, without the world dissolving into an unfocused blur. Everyone either pitied or despised you, believing that your affliction was something to be controlled. You made your peace with it a long time ago, just as you made your peace with being Caracalla’s pleasure dregs.

“… As you wish, give me your piss herb.” He finally acquiesced, lower lip stuck out in a pout.

“Thank you, Agapi.”

But unlike the others who fled from his touch, you were gentle with Caracalla, and you would continue to be. The coldness of his stormy blue eyes softened and became ensconced by pupils dilated in affection, his cheeks a blushing rose pink as you held out a bronze cup steeped with the juices of a dried rhizome.

Even in his feverish state, he could tell the difference in care. You treated him with tenderness. Not like he was an invalid, but more with affection and respect as a spouse would for an ailing husband. You kept his cubiculum tidy. Carefully selected his ensembles of jewelry and silks for the servants to dress him. Every other day you bathed him in milk, scouring his body with a pumice and then moisturizing him with beeswax and oils. Dressed his wounds and perfumed him with patchouli, even going as far as to perfume his breath by having him chew clove and mint on occasion.

Subconsciously, the co-imperator picked up on your kindness. Instead of raining blows on your head with freakish strength, the man would reach out and cling to your stola. Speaking tender words of affection, and seeking at some points to make you pleased with him.

“You’re a wicked harpy.” He huffed, his soft hands over yours on the bronze cup.

“I know.” you murmured, gently coaxing the lukewarm liquid between his lips, “But I am a harpy that plucks at the mites between her nestling’s feathers, seeking to soothe his itch. Now drink.”

The chinaroot did not go down smooth, it never did. Caracalla gurgled and gagged the liquid and rhizome all the way down his gullet, slender hands wrapping around a pale throat as he chewed and choked. It was painful watching him try to swallow, but he had to. Without the chinaroot, the regression would have only gotten worse, and he would have succumbed to the infection from his chancres.

“It’s like gargling a goat’s testes!” He whined as he pulled away.

“You gargle them well, Agapi.”

Caracalla coughed, throat puffing out in a gag as you wiped his chin with a clean scrap of linen.

“It’s awful! It doesn’t work!” He croaked.

“Have you been hurting or noticing new sores?” You asked.

There was a penetrating silence. So still was the air around the room, you could hear the flame licking against the wick in the oil lamps, as well as the fire crackling in the imperial hearth. While allowing Caracalla to answer, you stood from the bed, shuffling to the diminutive night table– equipped with a brass bowl of hot water that now cooled– to take a brief moment to scour your hands with hot water, natron, and vinegar.

You knew the answer, even within his silence, your beloved was as transparent as blown glass.

“No…” Caracalla admitted ruefully, “But that doesn’t change things. I don’t want it anymore! You said it is medicinal, but it tastes of utter shite and I hate it! I hate you!”

“I love you, Agapi.”

Your voice was so low it was almost a whisper. A breathy squeak that made him stop his fuss, and lean in. The stormy gray of his feverish eyes focused entirely on your form as you wiped your clean hands on a spare piece of dry linen.

“You… you love me…?” Caracalla whispered.

“Yes.” You replied earnestly, “I do. That is why I treat you.”

The sick man leaned back into his pillow, rolling onto the side. Curling up like a pill bug at the slightest hint of a threat, he lay there contemplating your words in the finery of his linens and wool blanket. Crawling on all fours back to the imperial bed, you followed him to lay down. Draping over his hunched back like a rucksack, you lay your head beside his, fingers stroking the cold skin of his shoulder and leaving goose pimples in the wake of your touch.

“No one has ever loved me before…” he mumbled into his pillow.

“I know, Agapi.” You murmured, nuzzling his hair and inhaling the sour scent of vinegar, “And that is very sad. Everyone is deserving of love, my darling, even you.”

His trembling hands pulled your arms around his chest. He held your hands in front of him, whole body shaking.

“Everyone is repulsed by me. They avoid me, they won’t touch me. My own brother pushes me away. But not you… why?”

“You’re just ill, Agapi.” You replied softly, “The rash, the chancre sores… It’s just an illness, like any other. Would you push me away if I told you I had a chill?”

“No.”

Caracalla rolled onto his side. Blue eyes boring into yours as he cupped your cheek tenderly. He pressed his forehead to yours, the two of you inhaling in unison, as if absorbing the essence, the life breath, and sharing in it.

“No… I would never push you away… I would make you rest in my bed, and lay your weary head upon my goose down cushion. I would feed you the piss herb, and tell you stories to make you feel better whilst you choked down the bitter broth.”

You smiled at the innocent sentiment, enjoying the softness of his hot lips as they brushed against yours.

“Just as I did with you when Geta first bade me care for you.” You said, “Remember, Agapi?”

“I remember.”

To placate his brother’s demands for sex even in his feverish state, Geta summoned his manservants to rouse you from your bed at all hours of the night to give yourself to the youngest of the co-emperors. You knew even then he was dreadfully ill, and despite your pity you did not want to get infected yourself. While they dressed you in a shrunken gossamer stola woven so fine the dark of your nipples could be seen, you steeled your heart and prepared for a battle with your leather pouch of herbs.

Geta threw you at his unkempt brother, delirious with fever. Instead of fighting him, you talked softly to him. Coaxed him into letting you care for him by washing his weeping sores with vinegar, sprinkling natron to keep them clean, and ripping his bed linens into bandages to dress the open wounds. You even made a brew of the dried chinaroot rhizome, and after holding his mouth closed and rewarding him with chewed sugarcane to cut the taste, the youngest co-emperor learned to expect the sweet after the bitter.

From then on, Caracalla was your creature. Wholly and entirely.

“You wanted to look after me, even though Geta made you wake from your sleep to pleasure me…” he said, his tone lucid.

“I did it because I love you.” You said softly, showering his bumpy cheeks with kisses, “And I know you love me too, even if you say you hate me.”

“I didn’t say it!” He whined.

His cry was so piteous, like a kitten, that it was easy to forgive the lapses in memory whenever it came to his more biting comments.

“I didn’t say I hate you… I would never…! I love you… I… I don’t know what I would do without you.” Caracalla choked, the warm of his tears staining your stola.

You understood this better than anyone else.

You knew he didn’t mean his vitriol.

“I know, darling…” you whispered, and you fully embraced him as he began to cry, “I know… You shall never have to worry… for I will never forsake you…”

It was one truth you knew you could say and mean, despite your talents as a concubine, a soothsayer… You might have been the only soothsayer in all of Rome who meant it when she said she cared for the youngest, forsaken co-emperor.

[the-universal-sun]

little lee being scared/having a phobia of the doctors? your stories are such a comfort to me and i have a doctors appointment tomorrow 🙁

Oh no! I hope your Doctor’s appointment goes well! I have one on Tuesday :/. Thank you for your request! I had fun writing it! I hope you enjoy reading it, though it’s less phobia than you might have wanted! TW: mention of needles, bloodwork, and medicine

As always, I’m open to helpful comments and feedback! But also just to talk if you need to! I hope every one has a good day!

-_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-

“Stanley Caryn Pines get out from under those covers right this instant.” Ford’s voice was stern, having tried to get Stan to leave to room for nearly half an hour now. His patience with his brother, usually so endless, was running thin. It was awful that they had to do this on a day when Stan was regressed-but then again, neither of them could control when his brother felt small or not.

“Mmmm-No! No Doctor-no!” Came a muffled shout from under the blanket, a figure huddled underneath it for protection and safety. Safety from the scary doctors and needles and icky icky medicine. Stanford was trying to make him see a doctor and let them steal his blood! He needs his blood, doesn’t his brother know that? How could he betray Stan like this?

“It’s just to make sure you’re fine before we go traversing the seas! I had to do it, so you do you! We don’t need either of us getting sick or running out of medicine when we’re weeks away from land, that’s dangerous. Life threatening even!” If Ford could change the day of this appointment he could, he knows Stan’s terrified of doctors, he always has been, but to see him to scared when little? Beyond his annoyance, it brings an ache to his chest. He hates being the one to do this, feeling like he’s betraying his brother to the highest degree again, but they have no choice. They’re leaving in a month and this was the only appointment they could get in for Stan. The next available slot is in February. How, Ford doesn’t know, Gravity Falls only has a population of around 1,000 people, give or take, and he seriously doubts all of them are seeing the Doctor every day. Then again, there’s only one Doctor, and while he was thorough, he was questionable in his bedside manner and execution of his physical. But, alas, this is the day of his brother’s appointment, and he will make Stan go.

Ford’s train of thought is cut off by the sound of a muffled whine-one promising tears if Stan isn’t consoled soon. He sigh, moving to sit beside his brother’s blanket clad body, resting his hand on his back and just patting softly, trying to think of some soothing words to ease his Little Lee’s mind. Because he still needs him to go to the appointment, but he’d rather not do it with the other man kicking and screaming. And crying, no doubt. After a few minutes of silence and some stolen glances at a clock in the corner, Ford finds the words to hopefully calm Stan down.

“Lee, I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you go, I hate to see you so scared, but I have to-“ another whine cuts in and Ford lowers his head until his brow is touching the back of his brothers head, “I know, I know. It was hard for me, too, after 30 years of taking care of myself. But I want us to be safe and healthy for our adventures on the Stan O’ War, and that includes bloodwork and medicine.” He sighs, changing his hand from patting his brother’s back to rubbing it, thinking through his next words. “How about this, Lee, you stay for 30 minutes, and not only can you get a whole roll of fun stickers, we can go get lunch at the reopened Greasy’s, is that a deal?” Ford hopes Stan takes this deal, he loves stickers and Greasy’s diner. While they have an abundant amount of stickers left over from Mabel, Greasy’s just opened yesterday after having been closed since Weirdmaggedon-it’s been a month and a half since Stan’s had food from his favorite diner, he’s been itching for it.

“Gweasy’s?” Stan popped his head out, voice muffled from chewing on his shirt, which Ford promptly pulls out from his mouth. Stan loves Greasy’s, and he’s been wanting it for so long, maybe 39 minutes isn’t so bad if he can get a treat. But stealing his blood, hmm….he’s still not sure, the needles are bound to be big and scary, and while Stan is a super brave boy, he doesn’t know if he’s brave enough for that. Stanford must have read his mind, because he offers another bribe-that’s what they are after all, Stan knows all about bribes-one that has him far more interested than stickers.

“And we can go to Portland for the USS Blueback Submarine tour.” And Stan’s in. He’s been wanting to see the Blueback for ever! For ages, even, but he’s never been able too-not enough free time or anybody to watch the Shack. Or anyone to watch him, knowing how the excitement might make him regress, and he can’t do that by himself when in public. That’s bad, bad, bad and seems very scary. But if Ford’s with him and it happens, he’ll be safe and Ford can show his scary dog face to anyone who’s mean to him! Stan scrambles out of his bed and races towards the door, he’s got to go now so they can hurry and see the submarine!

“Slow your roll, Lee. You need to get dressed and ready first, that means dentures in and dressed in pants and a shirt with your hair brushed.” Ford pulls him to a stop, making him stand still before going to his dresser for clothes. Oh, guess Stan forgot to get dressed today, he’s still in his icky and itchy big Adult pajamas. Which he quickly shucks off, holding his arms out for Ford to help him get dressed. His brother laughs when he turns and sees Stan like that, but when he whines and bounces, Sixer quickly gets to pulling the shirt over his head.

“Okay now. All dressed, dentures in?” Stan smiles widely, his new dentures shining, “Perfect! Let’s go!” It doesn’t really hit Stan until they’re walking to his car that he’s going to the Doctors office and he’s going to get poked and prodded at. He freezes, stiffening up and clutching his arms, his body beginning to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. Are his brother’s bribes really worth it? What if the doctor is mean or-or the needles are huge and take all his blood? Can he really do it? He wishes he could bring-A touch to his shoulder startled Stan out of his thoughts, Stanford looking at Stan with the most gentle look he’s ever seen. Well, if he’s here with Stan, maybe he could do this.

Stanley gasps as Ford presses Shanklin 2 into his hands, clutching the stuffed toy tightly as Ford leads him into the back seat and buckles him in. “I figured your friend would get much too scared waiting here for you, Lee, so he’s coming with us so you can teach him to be brave. Can you do that, Lee?” It’s a low blow almost, but by the way Stan resolutely nods and puts on his best brave face, Ford knew it had worked. For now at least, they’ll see how it goes when he gets blood drawn-he did request a butterfly needle for Stan, so hopefully he’s not as scared when he sees it’s not the thick needles they had as children. “I’m going to be right there with you, too, Lee. I won’t be going anywhere. I might need you to hold my hand if I get scared. If that’s alright with you?” He laughs at his brother’s stern nodding. That’s Stan for you, always willing to be a rock for his brother, his own feelings aside.

Ford buckled himself in, adjusting the mirror before turning on the radio, some old blues music softly playing from it as he slowly backs out onto the paved road. Internally he hopes, glancing back at Stan softly bobbing his head and rubbing Shanklin 2’s tail, that Stan forgets about the Greasy’s promise; the food there gives him such a stomach ache.

Stan does not forget about Greasy’s

[anthurak]

So ever since Mastermind, I’ve been seeing the expected number of ‘What if Lucifer or Charlie was present at the trial?’ fics/headcanons positing that either of their presence would have had them speak out on Blitzo’s and/or Stolas’ behalf and led to the PERFECT ending where the evil schemes of Andy-the-not-actually-a-sister-fucker are foiled and both Blitzo and Stolas are acquitted and it’s all sunshine and rainbows and puppies for everyone (except those evil rich people (except the ones we like)). And like, that’s all well and good…

But let’s be real. Even with a deck not massively stacked against them, or even stacked in their favor, both Blitzo and/or Stolas could ABSOLUTELY still find a way to fuck things up for themselves. I mean we’re talking about one guy who opened his defense with “Those orphans were already sick!” and “But when is attempting a crime a crime?”, and the other guy for whom ‘throwing my life away in a big dramatic heroic sacrifice for the man I love’ was Plan A.

And I just think that sounds way more fun and interesting then Lucifer or Charlie being some author-insert to serve as a secret cheat-code for the Golden Happy Ending for the episode.

Sure, Lucifer or Charlie being present almost certainly means things would go better for Blitzo, Stolas and co. regardless, but again I feel like it’s just way more interesting and fun and honestly in-character for these two gay idiots to still find a way to fuck things up for themselves.

Like imagine if Lucifer wants to hear Blitzo out at the critical vote, not so much because he really gives a fuck, but more because he’s bored and is also just messing with Satan.

And throughout the rest of the trial Lucifer is mostly just dicking around being a bored little gremlin. With the his only real contribution being to veto outright executing Blitzo, and even then that’s only thanks to Blitzo mentioning that Loona is his daughter. Sure, he may barely give a fuck at this point, but having a man killed in front of his own daughter? That’s pretty fucked up, don’t you think?

Which probably leads to some petty bickering between Lucifer and Satan about why they can’t just send Loona out of the room and THEN kill Blitzo, which then probably escalates/tangents to some ‘petty, jilted ex’s’-esque arguing that may or may not have some of the other Sins piping in for shits and giggles that is really only stopped when Stolas bursts in with his big ‘dramatic, gay heroic sacrifice via song-number’ gambit.

And Lucifer is in fact totally okay with Stolas getting stripped of his power and position, because hey he did a whole song number for it, but he draws the line at Stolas getting separated from his daughter. Also Andrealphus doesn’t get to be regent of Stolas’s position because Lucifer doesn’t like him for extremely petty reasons.

Meanwhile, I feel like Charlie sitting in for her dad probably wouldn’t turn out much better.

Sure, Charlie would want to hear Blitzo out, and ABSOLUTELY give a fuck about his situation. But let’s not forget that this is BLITZO we’re talking about, and giving him a chance to talk is ALSO giving him a chance to dig himself into a deeper hole.

For example; what do think Charlie’s reaction is going to be to learning what Blitzo and co. were actually DOING with that grimoire they got from Stolas?

You know, the princess of Hell who’s trying to deal with the sinner-overpopulation problem learning that these imps are likely contributing to said overpopulation problem? As well as the whole ‘murder business’ thing.

Which would likely put Blitzo in the awkward and hilarious position of probably having to argue AGAINST the person arguing for his life because that person ALSO wants to shut down his business.

And of course because this is Blitzo we’re talking about, there is a VERY good chance he just makes a total ass of himself or at the very least puts his foot in his mouth in epic fashion.

And if she’s present, I can imagine Vaggie at some point is leaning over to quietly ask Charlie if they really NEED to be defending this guy?

Maybe this eventually leads to Blitzo, or Stolas or perhaps Moxxie making some big, dramatic, emotional, heartfelt plea, possibly in musical form, for them to be allowed to continue their wholesome family business… of murdering people.

And maybe that does in fact sway Charlie. Or at least tugs on her heartstrings enough to forget about the whole ‘murdering business’ thing long enough to argue for Blitzo’s life without pushing to shut down I.M.P.

Which is exactly when, again, Stolas chooses to burst in with his big self-sacrificial song number and make things even worse/wackier.

All in all, as much as people may love their ‘here’s how we could/should have gotten a perfect happy ending!’ author-tracts, I think this option is way more in-character, interesting and most importantly fun XD

[landlessbud]

in what fucking world is it “cute” to come to your partner’s family’s holiday gathering while SICK

[goldkirk]

I don’t know how to explain any more clearly that it doesn’t MATTER if it seems legitimate to you. You have got to fact check every single headline and post and claim on the left just like you need to do on the right.

The left is NOT immune to misinformation and rushed reporting. And the more emotionally polarizing or shocking the talking points, sound bytes, and headlines are, the worse it is and more frequently it happens.

Learn to verify through multiple independent sources. If you can’t do that, you can’t trust it.

If you have to wait extra hours for the real information to come through vetted channels—NOT just one individual somewhere everyone links to, and not just one single media source either, EVEN if it’s a major news network—thats just how it has to be. What news outside of genuine local disasters near you TRULY needs your outrage and post-sharing in the next hour specifically?

Misinformation works best by not seeming like misinformation and by fitting in with the rest of what you already expect to see. It doesn’t help anyone to not be able to recognize and avoid the stuff.

[nonsensechemicals]

crying whenever i talk about Cookie9 because all my friends have these interesting and unique theories on them while i take everything too literally and they all just stare at me like “dude… uuugh we r TIRED” <-they dont actually say this they are very kind to me but i can Feel It

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

ppl will go “i’d notice if society was going to sacrifice a marginalised group of people and if they said that it’s ok that a bunch of people would die then i would stand against it” and then they’ll hear people saying “well only disabled and vulnerable people will die of covid” and go “yes this is normal and ok and fine”

[ya-what--ya-erster]

my parents know I struggle with eating sometimes, they KNOW, and they won’t let me just eat what I fucking want for dinner. The only thing that isn’t going to make me sick, because I’ve had my mind set on it for the past several hours. And they’ve decided that if I don’t eat whatever nasty shit they’ve got going on (it’s some sort of meat that has NO seasonings or sauce at all, and potatoes with too much cheese on them) then I’m not allowed to eat anything at all. I just want to fucking eat the food I had fucking ready for myself and they won’t let me because they think I don’t follow their rules enough, so their solution is to make me, who struggles with eating pretty frequently, eat their way or not eat anything and I’m so fucking done

[merevide]

thinking about killing eve again. thinking about eve. and her inhabitions and how she was so repressed and unfulfilled and her only true escape from that was her extensive research into female assassins and through that and getting fired and then rehired she meets villanelle and they basically bring out the worst in each other obvi but that’s also kinda their best selves because all villanelle wants is to be understood and that’s also what eve wants but she denies and denies and denies and she basically keeps denying everything until it’s too late and she’s left alone, again, screaming out in the water.

[camgoloud]

i simply feel that if you burn shit in your roommate’s skillet you should then feel the obligation to be the one who scrapes it out and cleans up

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold

[muutosarchive]

people really wanna be mad at Eminem for no reason. yall too stupid to realize Megan dissed him in Hiss, & he was just firing a shot back. It’s not that serious.

[orangespottedgiraffe]

So

[heroesriseandfall]

Cass is not a human lie detector…