#but its enough for you to get the picture!!!!

[mothuary]

This is because the exhibit is being curated by different people than it was the last time it was on display, thirty years ago. I'm interested to look more into Josh T Franco and Charlotte Ickes, especially Ickes, who is the "curator of time-based media arts and special projects".

I have a few suspicions here, both having to do with current museum studies and labelling discourse. Either the NPG is advocating for shorter labels as an attempt to increase foot traffic by maintaining an all-ages accessible and lighthearted atmosphere, or the curators believe that this is an appropriate middle-ground between viewers who want to have a thought-provoking museum experience and those who do not. Both of these surprise me for a Smithsonian gallery, who in my experience have never shied away from entire walls of text.

These ideas about simplifying wall text come as a (in my opinion) backwards response to public treatment of museums, and suggest that if only ten percent of museum-goers read all of the wall text, that there needs to be less wall text. This is sometimes presented as an issue of accessibility. In reality, it removes necessary context from the art or artifact on display which helps the viewer learn and think about what they are seeing. If every viewer does not read all of the wall text, it does not mean that they have read none, and every museum does not need to be geared towards children in order to be accessible to them (another aspect of this discourse which i find lazy if i am being real with yall)

Basically, there is nothing that you can do to get rid of the viewer described in the OUT article-- someone who just wants to take pictures of the pretty candies. I promise you they will exist no matter how much or how little wall text there is. I worked in an art gallery in DC. trust me. i know. some people are allergic to reading and they view art galleries as aesthetic post generators. But it isn't wrong to point out that wall text helps viewers gain a deeper understanding for the art on display, and the plaque in question does not.

Now honestly all of this comes after just reading a few articles so I don't want to say anything for certain here but i do think its important to distinguish that the curator's approach to display methodologies is the issue. This doesn't make the Smithsonian an inherently homophobic institution. But it is not a good move, either. The exhibit is up until July 6th. This isn't time to cancel one of America's greatest free public education resources. Its time to tell them that this is not how we want our institutions to be used. Hopefully, if we are loud enough, the next exhibition will not be handled so poorly.

the david zwirner gallery and the felix gonzalez torres foundation in the smithsonian removed the descriptive plaque for portrait of ross in la by felix gonzalez-torres. the old plaque explained portrait for ross' origins as the artist's partner's aids related death, and replaced it with a plaque with absolutely no information about the piece itself, who ross was, or who gonzalez-torres was either. portrait of ross was also reeranged to lay on the floor long ways instead of in a pile as it typically is situated, and the plaque outside the exhibition FOR GONZALEZ-TORRES omits his sexuality, as well as his aids related death. i'm in utter disbelief

[iloveboysinred]

P n v, fem reader, geto x reader, reader is just horny asf (as she should) i wrote more but tumblr ate it and i just wanna get this out there cause its already been collecting dust in my drafts so enjoy this tidbit. Minimal editing i wrote this when i was fried HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BABY SUGURU

Inspired by this yummy art and real life thought processes

Nothing could accurately describe the heat that coursed through your body whenever you saw your boyfriend in baggy clothes.

You swore he did it on purpose, walking around your house with those loose sweat pants hanging off his hips, his baggy t-shirt hiding something you’re just about ready to go looking for.

This morning felt especially suffocating. You watched from the couch while he walked around the kitchen, completely shirtless as he prepared the two of you a simple breakfast; eggs, rice, coffee…or was it tea? You didn’t know and you hardly cared, pursing your lips every time he pulled the waistband of his grey sweats back into place when they sagged a little too low. The sneak peaks of his hard abdomen, decorated with the dark dusting of a happy trail felt like an aphrodisiac.

You try to quell the filthy thoughts, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, smoothly opening some game on your phone before you start paying too much attention to the way his muscles moved under his skin.

But of course you stare some more because God, you could tell he wasn’t wearing boxers. Your eyes followed the imprint of his dick, thick and on soft and lightly pressing against the seam of his pants. You cursed him inside your mind. Why was he so oblivious to just how good he looked? It was too early to be thinking about throwing him down on the couch and-

“Food’s ready. Come eat” his soothing voice shattered your lustful thoughts, your eyes blinking away to see a small spread of carefully prepared food on the kitchen island. Two mugs sat on the counter, a tea for you and a coffee for him steaming and ready for you to drink. Your heart clenched as you sat down. Suguru was so sweet to you—he made you breakfast and your favorite kind of tea, taking care of you and being so gentle with you yet all you could think about was his strong hands grasping your neck, manhandling you around like you were some rag doll. You felt a little guilty for a second, but the way your clit throbbed made you forget all about it, your exterior tense as you padded over, sitting in the chair next to him.

You couldn’t help but take long glances at him even now. He was so close, you swear you can feel the heat of his pulse right next to you. You gave his print the same attention, your fingers twitching at your sides while he served you some rice and a few pieces of the rolled omelette he made, setting your fork inside your bowl.

“Do you really have to stare so hard? You’re so shameless.” You coughed, almost choking on the bite of rice you just ate. “Augh, what?” sputtering, your eyes widened in alarm when Suguru kept his air of nonchalance, handing you the steamy cup of tea to wash the rice down.

“Did you think I couldn’t tell?” He paused, bringing another piece of the omelette to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “and here I thought a sweet girl like you knows how to use her words and tell me what she wants. I guess i haven’t been thorough enough.” You felt your face warm, not even out of embarrassment for being caught but because you know just how thorough Suguru is.

Sensual images of your past rendezvous blared in your mind, pictures of your Suguru, sweat slicked and needy above you, his powerful body moved with yours, his lips moving from your neck to your mouth, his desire evident in the dark red and purple marks decorating your thighs and chest, the taste and smell of your arousal still staining his lips and chin.

He filled you out, his thick manhood dragging against your slippery walls with every thrust. Hot, throbbing pleasure coursed through your nervous system, your back arching in ecstasy when he called out for you, his large hands grasping yours above your head. Suguru’s hair curtained around you when he closed the distance between you, panting and blindly searching for your lips in the dark. You burned the sight into the forefront of your mind, despite how often you were able to witness your boyfriend unravel himself above you after that.

“You should at least finish your food if you’re just gonna ogle at me all day.” You scoffed, placing the tea cup back on the table harder than you intended. Invading his space, you dragged a hand down his neck, trailing it down to his chest and up again, not even playing it coy when you dragged your nails over his nipples, enjoying how he tensed under your touch, stubbornly keeping his calm exterior despite the flickering excitement in his eyes.

“You wanted me to use my words, right?” You purred, raking your nails past his chest and down his abdomen, tracing every defined muscle in admiration, not missing the way his breath hitched. Suguru pursed his lips, his cocky attitude falling flat while he watched you trail lower towards his waist, thumbing the waistband of his sweats.

Creeping closer, you pressed a kiss behind his ear, making sure he could hear you loud and clear “I wanna fuck. Right now. and we’re gonna keep going until i’m satisfied. Does that work for you?” He smirked, regarding you with a sultry look and bringing you in by the hips. “What a filthy mouth.”

[regressionschool]

Going full toddler part 2: arrival

The car rolled to a stop in front of the cottage, the tires crunching softly against the gravel driveway. Marie rubbed her eyes, still slightly groggy from the long drive, her thumb absentmindedly brushing over the edge of her sippy cup.

Her first thought as she peeked outside was that the place looked like something out of a storybook. The cottage had soft, cream-colored walls with ivy climbing up the edges, and the windows had little flower boxes bursting with bright, happy blooms. A white wooden fence lined the garden, and behind it, there was a small swing swaying gently in the breeze. Everything about it felt warm, peaceful, and oddly perfect.

But her second thought—the one that sent heat rushing to her cheeks—was the realization that Steve was already stepping around the car to open her door.

Her stomach flipped.

She suddenly became hyper-aware of everything: the thick padding pressing against her bottom, the unmistakable crinkle that followed her every move, the soft pastel overalls stretched over her diaper, the childish pigtails that Daddy had put her hair in that morning. And yet, as Steve unbuckled her seatbelt and lifted her effortlessly out of the car, the friendly faces of the neighbors didn’t even blink.

A woman in a flowy sundress waved from a nearby porch. A man watering his garden gave a small nod before returning to his work. No one stared. No one whispered.

It was almost like… like this wasn’t unusual at all.

Marie’s blush deepened as she buried her face against Steve’s chest, wrapping her arms around his neck while he carried her towards the house.

“Aww, is my little one feeling shy?” he teased, giving her a soft bounce as he adjusted her in his arms.

Marie mumbled something unintelligible into his shirt, not daring to lift her head. She didn’t understand why no one seemed surprised to see her like this. Normally, in public, Daddy was a bit more subtle, a little more discreet. But here? He didn’t hesitate at all.

“Come on, princess, let’s get you inside.”

Steve pushed the front door open, and Marie barely had time to blink before she was completely overwhelmed.

The moment they stepped inside, Marie’s breath hitched. The inside was nothing short of a Little’s paradise.

The first thing she noticed was the playpen set up in the living room—a large, soft, padded space filled with plush toys, blocks, and a fuzzy pastel rug that looked perfect for crawling around on. Against one wall sat a massive crib, its wooden rails painted a soft cream color, big enough for her to sleep in comfortably. The changing table nearby had neatly stacked rows of thick diapers, powders, and wipes, everything meticulously arranged.

Her stomach flipped.

She didn’t even realize she had taken a small step backward until Steve’s hands landed gently on her shoulders, keeping her in place. “Like it, princess?” he asked, his tone teasing but warm.

Marie swallowed hard. Her fingers fidgeted at the hem of her shortalls. “I… I mean…”

Steve chuckled, clearly amused by her flustered state. He turned her gently, steering her toward the kitchen.

There, in the center of the room, stood a large highchair. It looked sturdy, designed for someone her size, with a soft cushioned seat and a little tray attached. She could already picture herself sitting there, kicking her feet while Daddy fed her spoonfuls of something mushy. The thought made her squirm.

“And if you ever want some fresh air…” Steve guided her to the back door, swinging it open to reveal a small garden with a swing hanging from a sturdy oak tree.

Marie sucked in a breath. It was overwhelming—so much thought had gone into this space, so much preparation. This wasn’t just a weekend getaway.

This was a place built for her.

Before she could protest or try to piece her thoughts together, Steve lifted her effortlessly under her arms and carried her back into the living room. “Alright, little one. Daddy needs to unpack. And you…” He walked toward the playpen.

Marie’s eyes widened. “W-Wait, Daddy, I can just—”

Her protests were cut off as Steve set her down inside, his hands firm but gentle as he guided her to sit. The moment she did, she felt the thick padding beneath her press against her, the faintest squish reminding her that’s she was already wet.

Her blush deepened as she looked up at him, pouting. “Daddy…”

Steve crouched down, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “No fussing, sweetheart. I’ll only be a few minutes. I want you to play like a good girl.”

Marie’s lips pursed. She crossed her arms but didn’t argue. Not really.

Steve smirked knowingly. He reached into the playpen and grabbed a soft stuffed bunny, placing it in her lap. “Be good, princess.” With that, he stood, ruffling her hair one last time before heading off toward the bedroom to unpack.

Marie huffed, gripping the bunny in her lap. She looked around the playpen, her gaze flicking over the plush toys, the stack of colorful blocks, the soft blankets. Everything in here was meant to keep her entertained, meant to make her feel small.

Marie sat in the playpen, clutching her bunny tightly as she watched Steve move back and forth, unloading the car. At first, she tried to act disinterested, her eyes flicking around the room like she wasn’t paying attention.

But she was.

She saw him bring in the diaper bag first, the familiar pastel tote that she knew was packed with all the necessities for the weekend—extra diapers, wipes, powder, cream, and even her pacis tucked neatly into the side pockets. Her stomach flipped at the sight of it.

Then came his suitcase, a sleek black one that looked downright boring compared to everything else. He set it by the bedroom door before disappearing back outside.

Marie shifted in place, the thick padding beneath her crinkling softly. She pressed her stuffed bunny against her chest and rocked a little, telling herself she was just sitting—not playing. Not getting caught up in little space.

But then… her eyes landed on the soft plush blocks stacked neatly in the corner of the playpen. The pastel colors caught her attention, the letters and numbers embroidered in gentle, looping stitches. Her fingers twitched.

Before she could think too hard about it, she reached out, knocking the stack over with a tiny push. The satisfying thump of soft fabric hitting soft fabric made something flutter in her chest. She picked up one block, turning it over in her hands, tracing the shape of the letter stitched into it.

Then another.

Then another.

And before she even realized it, she was lost in her own little world, stacking the blocks as high as she could, only to giggle softly when they tumbled down again.

She didn't notice how much time had passed. Didn't even hear Steve moving around the house anymore.

It wasn’t until her body gave her a different kind of reminder that she snapped out of her daze.

A pressure in her bladder.

At first, she barely reacted, shifting slightly in place. But as the feeling grew, she instinctively pressed her thighs together, her bottom shifting against the thick padding. It was a subtle reminder—one she could ignore if she really wanted to.

But the moment she focused on it, her body took care of the rest.

A tiny gasp left her lips as the warmth spilled out of her, soaking into the thick, crinkly padding beneath her. Her breath hitched. She didn’t even fight it—just let it happen, her body melting into the familiar sensation of relief.

By the time she was done, her entire posture had softened, her shoulders drooping as she sank deeper into little space. The wet padding pressed against her, warm and squishy, hugging her in a way that made her cheeks burn.

And then—without thinking—she reached for her bottle.

She didn't even realize what she was doing until she was already drinking. The cool liquid filled her mouth, and she suckled softly, small rhythmic pulls that felt… comforting.

It wasn’t until she was a few gulps in that the realization hit her.

She had just wet herself, without hesitation. Without even stopping to think about it.

And the very first thing she did after was reach for her bottle—like a good girl.

A deep, involuntary blush spread across her face. She squirmed, shifting in the now soggy padding, but instead of pulling away from the feeling, she found herself curling around it, hugging her bunny closer as she nursed from her bottle.

The warmth. The comfort. The way she felt so little in that moment…

Her tummy flipped, and she whined softly behind the bottle’s rubber nipple, embarrassed and weirdly proud all at once.

She wanted Daddy to notice.

Would he check her soon? Would he praise her for being such a good girl?

Would he tease her?

Marie sucked a little harder, her legs pressing together, her breath a little quicker now.

And then, as if on cue, she heard the soft creak of the bedroom door opening.

Footsteps.

Daddy was coming back.

Steve stepped back into the living room, his eyes immediately landing on Marie.

The sight that greeted him made his smirk grow.

There she was, nestled in her playpen, nursing her bottle with both hands, cheeks flushed pink, her legs shifting just enough to betray her squirmy state. She looked up at him briefly but quickly averted her gaze, her lips still wrapped around the nipple of the bottle.

His sharp gaze flicked from the scattered plush blocks around her to the way she fidgeted, her movements slower, heavier—and he knew exactly what had happened.

His little girl had gone potty for Daddy.

Crouching beside the playpen, he reached in and ruffled her hair, making her squeak softly. “Look at you,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. “Such a thirsty little girl. Having fun?”

Marie gave a tiny nod, still suckling at her bottle, her fingers gripping it tighter. She peeked up at him shyly, but when she shifted again, a tiny squish filled the space between them.

Steve’s smirk deepened.

He knew that sound.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached down, pressing his warm palm gently against the front of her shortalls, his experienced touch confirming what he already suspected.

Marie froze.

The pressure of his hand against her made her whimper softly, her legs squeezing together on instinct.

Steve chuckled, giving her a teasing squeeze, feeling the soggy warmth beneath the fabric. “Mmm,” he mused, voice full of knowing praise. “Someone’s all squishy and warm.”

Marie’s face burned.

She wanted to deny it, to squirm away, but she couldn’t. The evidence was right there, pressed snug between her thighs, and Daddy had already found out.

Steve wasted no time, his fingers moving with practiced ease to the snaps on the crotch of her shortalls.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

Each snap undone so effortlessly that Marie had no time to protest before her shortalls fell open, revealing her very wet, swollen diaper.

She wriggled, flustered beyond words, but Steve’s hands were already on her hips, keeping her still.

“Uh-uh,” he murmured firmly. “No fussing.”

Marie whimpered again, her fingers clutching her bunny as she tried to hide her face, but that only made Steve’s smirk widen.

He admired the sight before him—his little girl in nothing but a damp, swollen diaper, the padding pressed so snugly against her.

He cooed softly, his fingers trailing over the smooth plastic of her diaper before giving it a gentle pat.

“You didn’t even try to hold it, did you, sweetheart?” he praised, his voice warm and teasing.

Marie shook her head, still sucking her bottle, still so small under his gaze.

Steve’s expression softened, his fingers brushing along her cheek. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured. “That’s exactly what diapers are for.”

She whimpered at that, feeling herself sink even deeper into her little space, the praise making her tummy flutter.

Then, without another word, Steve slipped her shortalls off completely, tossing them aside.

Marie’s eyes widened. “D-Daddy…?” she mumbled behind her bottle, her free hand instinctively tugging at the hem of her shirt to cover herself.

Steve’s smirk never wavered as he watched Marie’s fingers fidget with the hem of her shirt, her subconscious attempt to cover the swollen, soggy state of her diaper. It was adorable, really—how she still tried to be shy about something so inevitable.

With a slow, knowing shake of his head, he reached forward, effortlessly prying her hands away from the fabric and pinning them gently at her sides.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, tilting his head as his fingers trailed lightly over her exposed tummy. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Marie squirmed, her breath hitching as she clung to her bunny. “N-Nothing…” she mumbled behind the bottle, her voice barely above a whisper.

Steve chuckled, one hand drifting downward, his palm coming to rest on the thick, swollen front of her diaper. He gave it a firm but gentle pat, grinning as the squish beneath his hand confirmed just how soaked she was.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed knowingly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Doesn’t seem like nothing to me, princess. Looks like someone’s trying to hide her little soggy pampers from Daddy.”

Marie whimpered, her face practically glowing red as she tried to look anywhere but at him. But she didn’t pull away.

Steve sighed dramatically, shaking his head as if she had just said something completely ridiculous. “Now, now, you know better than that, don’t you?” He leaned in, brushing his lips against her forehead in a teasingly sweet gesture before continuing, his voice laced with condescension, but full of love.

“Toddlers don’t get to hide their diapers, sweetheart,” he murmured, his thumb lazily rubbing over the warm padding between her thighs. “Especially not when they’re this squishy.” Another squeeze, another tiny crinkle-squish that made Marie’s breath hitch. “That’s just part of being little. You don’t worry about things like that.”

Marie wriggled, gripping her bunny tighter. “B-But—”

“No buts, princess,” Steve interrupted smoothly, his hand still resting against her puffy diaper. “In fact…” He gave her bottom a few more pats, each one making the damp padding press snugger against her. “This makes Daddy’s job so much easier.”

Marie blinked, confused, peeking up at him shyly. “Wh-What do you mean?”

Steve smirked, his fingers trailing along the waistband of her diaper before slipping a single finger past the leg guard, pressing just enough to confirm what he already knew—she was absolutely soaked.

Marie squeaked, her whole body tensing as her legs snapped together.

Steve just chuckled. “See, little one?” He withdrew his hand and booped her nose, his voice thick with amusement. “No need for fussy diaper checks when my baby girl’s got nothing to hide.” His eyes flicked down to her exposed, swollen padding. “All Daddy has to do is look, and he knows when his little princess needs a fresh diapee.”

Marie whined, wriggling in place, the squishy warmth between her thighs making her feel even smaller under his teasing gaze.

“Besides,” Steve continued, his voice taking on a mock-serious tone as he gave her puffy bottom one last loving squeeze. “We wouldn’t want any leaks, would we?”

Marie bit her lip, shaking her head quickly. “N-No, Daddy…”

“That’s right,” Steve praised, reaching for her empty bottle and swapping it out with a fresh one. “Good girl.”

Marie reached for it instinctively, only hesitating when she realized the liquid inside wasn’t just plain water this time.

Steve caught her hesitation and smirked. “It’s a special juice mix, sweetheart,” he explained, tapping the side of the bottle. “A little apple, a little pear, and just a touch of a little something something.”

Marie’s stomach flipped. “B-But—”

“Hush,” Steve interrupted smoothly, slipping the bottle into her hands. “Just drink up like a good girl.”

[strang3lov3]

Boys Will Be Boys

You hit Roman where it hurts. Meaning you fuck his dad as he watches and cries.

Tags - dubcon, girthy age gap (80/???), smut, unprotected piv, fingering, creampie, masturbation, sexual harassment/assault (Roman’s punished for it, and I kept it short and sweet), unsolicited dick pics, roman roy gets cucked by his father, osteoarthritis, hypertension, logan roy dirty talk, logan roy takes viagra, coercion, tears and mucus as lube, almost?subby?romey??? lowkey...logan roy is kinda a fuckin' stud. uhhhhh…idk. kinda grotesque. you have to embrace it. crack fic adjacent, but this is serious business to me. you’ve been warned.

A/N - you know what you’re fucking here for. maybe it’s morbid curiosity. maybe you wanna see roman roy crying while masturbating. maybe…maybe you wanna fuck that old man. it’s ok if you do. i won’t tell on you, you fucking pervert. enjoy Logan Roy screwing your brains out <3 I tagged my romey readers, and while i implore you to be brave, don't feel pressured to read if it's not your thing. @beefrobeefcal thank you for the beta hot stuff! i love you so much.

It’s been happening for a while now.

It was just small things at first. A little comment here and there. He told you that you had nice legs the first time you wore a skirt, said something else about loving a long-legged woman. Then he asked if you shaved for him, too. What else do you shave, huh? Are you bare everywhere? 

The little tattoo on your wrist, usually hidden by your blouse. What’s that about? Got any other tattoos? Perhaps in a more private place? If I guess where it’s at, can I see it?

Oh, the way you got flustered. Your eyes went wide, mouth dropped open a little. Too easy. Roman took that as a challenge - an invitation, rather, to take it up a notch. 

He turned up the heat in his office to a balmy 75℉ the week after that. After each time you’d turn the thermostat down a few notches, Roman would use a little remote he’d point at it to turn it right back up. Must be busted, Roman told you. How about you call maintenance, huh, assistant? Maybe do your fucking job for once?

Roman watched with a crooked smirk on his lips as you slipped off your cardigan, exposing your body to him. That pretty nude camisole. Roman sidled up behind you, fingers skating over your shoulders until he reached the strap of your bra. Your blood went cold as he wriggled his fingers beneath them, then pulled up, up, and snickered as he let them snap your skin harshly. Nobody else had done that to you since junior high.

In the elevator, he stands too close. While riding up the many floors of the tall building, Roman fucking breathes on you, and follows you when you inch away from him. Your skin prickles when he touches your lower back, fingers drumming against you, walking down your waist. He’d first started by testing you with a little pinch on your ass cheek, just to watch you jump and hear that startled little squeak you’d make. He gropes your ass now, squeezing a handful of it, kneading his fingers. He loves the visible discomfort on your face, and knowing you can’t do a goddamn thing about it. Harrassing you is the best part of Roman’s job. It’s why he wakes up in the morning, getting to exert that power over you. It fills him with a sick sense of satisfaction, of delight. 

Your phone is full of photos of his cock. Lawsuit material, if you were brave enough to go up against Roman and Waystar and all of its bells and whistles. Roman tells you his lawyers would eat you alive before you even step foot into a courtroom. 

It was late last Saturday night when Roman texted you a picture of his crotch, cock visibly hard under his slacks, outlined in sharp detail.

10:07 - Got a job for you. Wanna help out the boss?  

Every notification on your phone with Roman’s name attached makes you want to puke. You wish you could ignore him. Block him.

10:07 - No, Roman. 

You waited with bated breath for Roman’s response, the little dancing ellipsis on the screen mocking you as he formulated a text back. How’s he gonna make your day worse this time?

10:08 - Funny how quickly a job can disappear.

Fuck it. Whatever. You sent him as modest of a nude photo as you could muster - panties and bra on, face cropped out. 

10:12 - Cute. Smile this time. Lose the underwear. 

10:32 - Leaving me on read wont work. Nice try tho

10:33 - Five minutes. Don’t make me wait

You sighed in frustration as you stripped, then snapped a photo from above. Legs crossed to hide your pussy, your forearm covering your chest.

10:35 - *fire emoji*

10:35 - *As in I’ll fire you. 

10:35 - Bare tits. Bare ass. Bare pussy. Do it now

With no choice but to comply, and with an awful feeling in your gut, you took more photos. First of your tits, then your ass. Sent and sent. 

10:38 - Forgetting something?

It made you feel even more sick, but you needed him off your back. You spread your legs, pointed the front-facing camera at your cunt, and took the photo, then sent it to Roman. 

10:45 - I bet you’re so tight. Are you wet right now? 

10:45 - Yeah

Playing along. 

10:47 - I wanna be inside you

10:47 - Gonna cover you in my cum

Roman went quiet for a while then, probably ten minutes before texting you back. 

10:58 - I wanna watch you cum for me. 

10:59 - I’ll know if you fake it

He made you send him videos of you masturbating, all different camera angles, different positions. He kept you up until almost three, making yourself come over and over for him. Until he could hear you crying in the videos, your thighs trembling. It was horrible - humiliating, exhausting, so fucking dehumanizing. He sent you pictures of an old cardigan of yours covered in his come at the end of the whole thing. You thought you lost it.

It’s Monday afternoon now. You have a bad feeling when you walk to Roman’s office, seeing that the blinds are drawn over the large glass panes of his windows. You let yourself into the room at his request, and Roman’s sitting on his little gray couch, legs spread wide. He’s palming his bulge, eyes following you as you close the door. You avoid making eye contact with him, something that only serves to challenge him. He straightens, then wordlessly pats the seat next to him. 

“I have those files you asked for, Roman.” 

“Oh, that’s great. That’s really, yeah - awesome. Set ‘em down.” 

You set them on the coffee table, then anxiously drum your fingers on your lap. You steal the littlest glance at Roman sitting next to you; his thumb mindlessly stroking where the hard head of his cock presses against his slacks. 

A heavy silence falls as you process what’s inevitably coming next. Roman unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his pants, then unzips them. He rests his head against the couch as he pulls out his cock, then looks right at you. A lazy smirk pulls at the corner of his lips and his eyes are lidded, darkened with lust in a way that makes him look like an animal. 

Roman lets out a little giggle at the nervous way you fidget your hands. He takes one in his own, holding tightly onto your wrist when you try and pull it back. “Hang on - wait. I like your nails. Pretty, very pretty, sweetheart. I think they’d look nice wrapped around my cock, don’t you?”

You bunch your fingers in a fist, attempting to pull your wrist out of his grip. “N-no, I don’t, Rom–”

“Oh, come on. That’s why you got ‘em fuckin’ done, right?” Roman uses his other hand to pry your fingers open. “Hey, open your fucking - there we go.” He lowers your hand, pressing your palm against his warm package, and his cock looks smaller in person. Just as upsetting, though. 

Roman lets out a quiet, soft groan of pleasure, then turns frustrated when you pull away again. He snaps his fingers at you, “Hey - assistant girl. Isn’t this your job, right? To assist?”

A knock at Roman’s office door has him jumping, and you take the opportunity to get away from him entirely. You leave Roman on that couch, and he’s cursing you under his breath while quickly tucking his cock back into his trousers, watching you do your quick little half-jog out of his office. Fine, be that way. You’ll fucking get it later. 

You don’t have a plan in mind when you begin walking, you just leave. Looking over your shoulder to see if Roman’s following behind you, if he’ll grab you by the forearm and drag you into a supply closet. Do god only knows what to you. Probably fuck you with the end of some maintenance man’s mop.  

You find yourself knocking at Logan’s door, then exhale a shaky breath. You’re not…you’re not sure what you’re doing here. What you’re gonna tell him, if you’re gonna tell him anything. It’s not like he’d do anything about it, right? Logan eyes you through the window, then calls you inside with just a simple wag of his fingers. He looks annoyed, fuck. But when does he not?

Logan’s room is large, and you’re not entirely sure how to navigate, which feels silly. Sounds even sillier to say. You’re not often alone with Logan, and the proximity makes you unsure of yourself. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve always felt…something for him. He’s a brute, yes, and you’ve seen the ugliest sides of him. Something about it makes his softer moments that much more profound, though. The tenderness is there, and it shows in quieter times. He winks at you now and then, offers you a smile with no malice or contempt or derision behind it. 

Logan’s got a soft spot for you, too. You’re a sweet girl. He’s always thought so, really. You do what you’re told, and you don’t ask for much. You’re not a bumbling idiot or a nagging fly buzzing in his ear. Easy on the eyes, too. Never hurts.

Logan gestures to a seat in front of his desk and hums a little. “Need a minute,” he mutters as he reads something on the screen. You look at all of his belongings on his desk - papers, folders, a mug. A framed photo of him somewhere warm and beachy, showing off his pale legs and his swollen ankles. 

Finally, he closes the window and smiles at you. His piercing, steel blue eyes pin you in place, but they’re warm too, almost. Warmer than Roman’s. When Roman makes eye contact with you, it makes you feel like prey. Like he’ll hunt you for sport. Not Logan, though. His gaze is heavy, but not hungry. 

Logan claps his fingers together over his thick belly. “What can I do for you, dear?”

“Uhhh…” You cross and uncross your legs as you shift in your seat, then fidget with your manicure, nervously chipping the paint off. You hate this color now. When you look up, Logan’s got his eyebrows raised at you, waiting for you to continue. You don’t want to wear his patience thin. 

“It - I was gonna talk about Roman, but it’s nothing. It’s nothing. I’m not - I don’t need to tattle.” 

“Fuck that. What’s he doing?” Logan demands flatly, immediately, furrowing his brow. 

“No, I shouldn’t have said any–”

Logan interrupts, speaking your name softly. “Tell me.”

You tell him everything about the harassment. How long it’s been going on for, how it started small and just kept escalating and escalating. How fucking relentless Roman is. You show him the texts, the photos, becoming flustered when Logan stumbles across the photos of yourself Roman made you send to him last weekend. Logan quietly hums in approval. 

You tell him about Roman in his office, the stunt he pulled just before now. It feels good to get it off your chest, at least momentarily. The way Logan simply nods, rubbing a hand on his chin makes you feel uneasy, though. A silence hangs heavily as he takes it all in, thinking. 

“What?” The anxiety makes your question slip out rather impatiently. “Sorry, I just - what are you thinking, Mr. Roy?”

Logan scoffs, smiling just a little. “...Didn’t think the kid had it in him.” 

“O-oh. Okay.” 

That’s…that’s it? You wonder if he’s gonna tell you that you were asking for it. Or to buck up. Maybe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and Logan will be just as cruel to you as his son is. Fuck, you already regret this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice softer than you expected it’d be. “Truly. I’m sorry my son put you through this. I promise I raised him better, darling. I did my best.”

“No, it’s–” You interrupt yourself to exhale steadily, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” 

“You know,” Logan begins, absentmindedly wiggling his fingers, “You know what it is. Boys’ll fuckin’ be boys.” 

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, you know. Men don’t grow out of boyhood so quickly, anymore, s’all. World’s turnin’ to fuckin’ shit. Unacceptable behavior, the fuckin’ kid’s pushing forty,” he spits, rolling his eyes. “Roman - he’s…well, you know what this is, don’t you? You see through his act, yes?”

You shake your head. “No,” you reply.

“Boys like him, they’ll pick on ya when they’re sweet on you,” Logan explains. “That’s all it is. Usually harmless. Usually,” he adds.

“But, Mr. Roy, I don’t–”

“I know, dear. He’s not your type, is he?”

“No,” you answer quickly, garnering a hearty chuckle from Logan. You laugh too.

“The boy always was an odd duck,” Logan adds, then pauses, thinking. “What is your type, darling, if you’ll forgive my asking?”

“Oh, gosh,” you giggle, feeling Logan’s heavy gaze on your body, your warm face. He knows. He absolutely knows. 

“Older, for one,” you admit. 

Logan smirks, and you share a smile with him. He seems to pick up on everything, knows exactly what the words left unspoken spell out. It’s always girls like you, vibrating with desire for him. No matter how white his hair becomes, nor how much rounder his belly gets, nor every new wrinkle that graces his face as the years stack up - doesn’t change the fact that Logan Roy’s still fucking got it. He reaches for one of his desk drawers, then pulls it open and reaches inside. Logan grabs an orange bottle and rattles out a tiny, blue, diamond shaped pill. His blue eyes twinkle at you as he swallows the pill, then points to the bar cart by the window. “Be a lamb, darling. Some water.”  

Quickly, you grab Logan a glass of water, watching him wash down the pill as you clench your thighs. 

“I need to hit him where it hurts,” Logan says in between sips. “Make it fuckin’ stick this time.” 

Logan shoots Roman a quick text, and you wait anxiously for his arrival. When he finally enters the office, his face falls upon seeing you at his father’s desk, looking…happier than he’d like to see you. You’re sitting up straight, chin held high, shoulders back. Logan’s scowl darkens as he gestures for Roman to sit down, right in the seat next to you. Roman’s hands shake a little as he pulls the seat back and lowers himself into it. 

“What’re we gonna do about you, son?”

“What?” Roman’s brows furrow, and his bottom lip wobbles ever so slightly. “I don’t kn–”

“You a sicko?”

Roman shifts uncomfortably in his seat, realizing this conversation is absolutely not going to go his way. “No, I–”

Logan cuts Roman off, his tone sharp. “She tells me you’ve been harassing her, Roman. Is this true?”

“What? Dad, no. She’s f-fucking lying,” Roman stammers. Roman looks at you then, and you can see how he tries to glare, to scare you, to regain control. He’s powerless here, with you protected by his father. 

Logan reaches for your phone, which is sitting face down on his desk. He turns it on, “Gimme a hand here, darling. Pull it up again.” 

You have to bite down on your smile as you put in your passcode, feeling so empowered at the moment. It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. Roman’s humiliated you so many times and finally, he’s gonna take what he dishes. And then some.

Logan shakes his head a little, grumbling as he prods the screen with his fat fingers. “Fuckin’ bastard…here. Here it is. S’that your fuckin’ dick?” he sneers, spit flying from his lips. He turns the phone around, showing Roman one of the many, many photos of his own dick on your phone.

Roman freezes, his face turning pale enough to make his freckles vanish. “N–”

“Certainly small enough to be yours. Look–” Logan scrolls through more texts, “This one too, huh?”

“No,” Roman seethes, and it almost makes you giggle, the way he scrambles to lie. So fucking…pathetic. He’s everything Logan’s not. 

“Oh, see? Look at him, darling. He’s squirming.”

Logan reaches for his eyeglasses sitting on his chest, held by a cord that wraps around his neck. He squints a little as he scrolls through your phone, then clears his throat before reading aloud. “‘I bet you’re so tight’,” he reads loudly, droning in a monotone voice. “‘I need to be inside you. You’d look pretty covered in my cum.’ You think this is a fucking compliment?” Logan asks, looking at Roman through his eyebrows.

Roman’s face twists, and he scratches the back of his neck in discomfort. “Dad–”

Logan turns the phone around again, and this time a picture of Roman’s hand is on the screen. Fingers spread, covered in his own come. He scrolls again and the next photo is a picture of Roman himself, licking those fingers. 

“You are a fuckin’ sicko,” he growls.

You and Logan watch Roman shrink into his seat, how he looks like he’d willingly crawl out of his own skin and die, if he could. Logan lets him stew in his discomfort and his shame for a beat, then pats his lap, petting his bulge a little.

Roman watches you round the desk at the same time Logan rolls his chair back, making enough space for the both of you. You sit on Logan’s meaty thighs, watching the color drain from Roman’s lips. “Ope - up a second, dear. C’mon, up, up.” Logan swats your hip gently. You stand up then, and feel Logan’s large, paddle shaped hands slide up your thighs, under your skirt. He reaches for the waistband of your panties before tugging them down, letting them pool at your feet. You step out of them, then sit back down, leaning against Logan’s thick, pillowy belly. 

“Spread your legs,” Logan whispers, helping you part your thighs. Your skirt rides up your body, putting your throbbing cunt on display for Roman. Roman swallows thickly, watching as his father reaches for your center, grunting a little as he stretches. You moan when you feel him touch you, sliding just one, thick digit through your slippery folds. “Oh,” he gasps mockingly, holding out his hand for Roman to see. “See how wet she is, Romulus? Tell him, darling, who are you this fuckin’ wet for?”

“You,” you whimper, turning to speak to Logan. Logan groans, and you feel his thick cock twitch against your backside. “I need you, Mr. Roy.”

“Oh, my dear. Be patient. We’ll get there.”

Logan glares at Roman as he pushes a single finger inside of you, and even that’s a stretch that has you whining. Logan coos in your ear, quieting you as he uses his other hand to unbutton your blouse. He wriggles his fat hand underneath your bra, palming and groping your tits, teasing your nipples with his thumb. “Fuckin’ kid wouldn’t know what to do with a pair of tits like these, now would he, sweetheart?”

“N-no,” you agree, looking right at Roman. Your eyes scan down his body, noticing that - oh, god. He’s fucking hard. He’s trying to hide it, hands covering his crotch. But you see it. You see the way he’s rocking his hips, pressing down on himself to alleviate that pressure a little. 

Logan pumps his finger inside you once, then twice, then adds another. He curls the two rhythmically, noting how it makes Roman squirm. Roman’s making desperate, stifled little noises as he watches his father fingerfuck you, so shamefully, disgustingly turned on by the sight. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, resting your head against Logan’s shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut as you bask in the pleasure, bucking your hips into his palm a little. 

“Ah-ah. Eyes open, darling, and look at Roman. Look, he’s fuckin’ hard for ya. See?” You lift your head a little, looking at Roman through half-lidded eyes. His face is so fucking red, eyes still wild but a little broken, too. All wet and sad. He’s sweating, you can see it glittering at his hairline, the protruding veins in his forehead twitching to match. “He’s making a mess of himself,” Logan adds, pointing to the the wet spot bleeding through Roman’s pants. “Fuckin’ disgusting, isn’t he?”

“Dad,” Roman whispers, voice breaking. “Please, d–”

“Shut the fuck up, Roman,” you snap. You’re melting as Logan now rubs your clit in practiced circles. He’s got decades of experience under his belt. Guided some hundreds of women to orgasm. You’re no different, just as easy as the rest of them.

You whine as Logan pulls his hand away, pushing you forward so he can free his cock from his slacks. He sucks in his belly as he unbuttons his pants, then exhales deeply, thick belly bulging against his thin shirt. Even at the ripe age of eighty, Logan’s cock is long and thick, and everything Roman’s simply is not. You don’t get much of a look at the thick, unruly patch of white pubic hair surrounding the base of his shaft before Logan’s pulling you against him, tapping his dress shoe between your ankles to make you spread your legs. “Show Roman how you take care of his old man, huh? See how he likes that.” He fits the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, then slowly pushes you down with a firm push on your hips. “Ohhh, that’s it, darling. You take it so well.”

The stretch of his cock entering you has you sucking in a sharp breath, then exhaling through that delicious pain. Your cunt pulses around Logan’s cock as you watch Roman free his own dick, desperately pawing at his own length as tears fall from his eyes. He wipes them quickly, then uses the same hand to stroke himself.

“Help a man out, sweetheart. The osteoarthritis…my knees, I–”

“Of course, Mr. Roy,” you coo sweetly, lifting yourself up and down on his turgid, wrinkled member. Logan steadies you with his hands on your waist, guiding you along. Roman lets a little sob escape as he watches his father fuck his massive cock into you, squeezing his own cock so desperately. You giggle at that. 

“Quit - don’t fucking laugh–”

“Hey,” Logan barks, pointing a finger at Roman. “You don’t call the shots here, Roman, I do. I fucking run game,” he growls. Logan squeezes your breasts in both hands as he draws in and out of you, letting out wheezy exhales as his heart rate increases, but he won’t let his hypertension stop him from pleasing you. “Yeah, that’s it, honey. Look at him, fucking his hand. Tell me darling, what do you think of that?” 

“I think - I think he’s fucking pathetic,” you answer, looking right at Roman as you say it. Roman’s face breaks even further, more tears falling from his big, wet eyes. He wipes his eyes and his dripping nose, using the mess on his hand as lubricant as he fucks his fist with a depressing sort of fervor.

“Hear that, son? She thinks you’re fucking pathetic,” Logan taunts. 

“I fuck- oh, fuck,” Roman whimpers, throwing his head back as he desperately works himself. 

“Oh, you’re fuckin’ adopted,” Logan grumbles under his breath. He lifts you up then, and spins you around, then lays you across his desk so you’re looking at Roman upside-down. Logan enters you again in one swift motion, then begins fuckings you with an energy you wouldn’t expect, but that pleasantly surprises you. He’s so spry for an eighty year old. 

“You do so good for me,” Logan praises you. “My idiot son could get fucked like this too, if he weren’t such a fucking screwup. Isn’t that right, Romulus?”

“Y-yeah,” Roman whines. 

“Speak up, Roman. Let her hear you. Actually–” Logan grunts, punctuating the sentence with a brutal snap of his hips “I want you to apologize to her.”

“What?”

“He’s that fuckin’ stupid, huh?” Logan pants, the comment directed at you. “Fucking. Apologize,” he tells Roman. “Do it now.”

“I’m fuckin’ sorry. Okay?”

“Again, Romulus,” Logan demands, annoyed. “Louder.”

Roman tells you he’s sorry again, and it makes you smile. His voice all high-pitched and broken. Good, it’s about fucking time he’s taken down a peg.

“Tell her again,” Logan says. “Like ya fuckin’ mean it, Roman. And you don’t stop apologizing until she comes. Are we fucking clear?”

Roman nods frantically, pumping his cock as he whines, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

His words go right to your core. Logan fucks you harder, and licks his thumb before bringing it to your clit. He uses those same practiced circles from before to coax along your release, and it’s not long before you’re pulsing around his cock, moaning Roman’s father’s name as you come hard, all that pleasure washing over you as Roman whispers how fucking sorry he is. 

With a few harsh thrusts, Logan’s spilling into you next, coming with a deep, guttural grunt and wheezing breaths, a sharp pain in his chest. It’s all fucking worth it. He reaches into his pocket and tosses you his handkerchief, then excuses himself, mumbling something about needing his supplemental oxygen. 

You sit on Logan’s desk as Roman strokes himself to completion, sobbing as he gets off to the sight of your puffy, swollen cunt, ruined by his own father, and dripping with his spend. He makes a mess of himself as he comes, “Here, Rome–” you offer, tossing your used cumrag at him. 

“Get that - fuck,” Roman cries, swatting it away. He sobs as he comes down from his orgasm, unable to even look at you as you put yourself back together. 

“It’s smaller in person,” you murmur, touching Roman on the shoulder before leaving. He flinches at that, then breaks down in tears again as he shoves his softening cock back into his pants. “See ya tomorrow, boss.”

if you enjoyed, please shout at me 🩷💕 comments, rb, or go to my inbox. I turned anons back on because I know a handful of freaks will need to scream about their horniness but would prefer to do so anonymously.

romey tags

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson @moth-maam56

@kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink @romanarose

@kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamiii @verstappensrealwife @thesummerpetrichor

@lilipads @luiscarrutherss @baronessvonglitter @myromeow

@ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh @always-andromeda @causesimmer @pedropascalbabygirl

@baloobalee @slimybeth69 @pearlstiare @romanisbrat @callsignwidow @ziggymars

@perpetuallymanic @111melo @veryverycoolgirl @marisemonteiroo

@prettybpdgirl @butuhaventseenmyman @drunkdriverkillerwhale @fawnjaw @/fadedviolets

[yuuchama]

Asking Lilia Vanrouge to tutor you in history sounds like a great idea, doesn't it? He seems to know a lot about historical events due to living through them and there's even a picture resembling him in your textbook. History is his best subject. What could go wrong?

You leave the tutoring session more confused than before. Lilia's knack for history is no joke, though his knowledge is all over the place.

Hardly any of what he says gets covered in class. It's probably not going to be on the test. He brings up the names of random people, common folk with no impact on the grand scheme of things. He drones on about these people for longer than necessary. He rambles about insignificant bits of their daily lives like an old man reminiscing about old friends and you don't know how to stop him.

"Patricia really hated when they implemented the new calendar system, khee hee hee! Said it made her miss a date with this lad she fancied, but it all worked out in the end. He came to find her after a while and they went steady. Never met him. Heard he was a paper boy. The kind that makes paper, mind you. Word has it that he made fine paper but I never much cared about the quality of paper."

Lilia starts floating off his chair as he becomes immersed in his own tale. He crosses his arms in thought. You stare at his exposed forehead as he turns upside-down, your pen hand at the ready in case he says anything actually useful.

"Ezekiel, though? He was a lad who was mad about paper. Oho. This was, oh, roughly 350 years ago. He penned a letter to the Shaftlands government to petition for lower taxes. About a decade after that blight incident that wiped out their food reserves. More than half their crops were being taxed and it was a brutally cold winter, he could barely afford firewood, but he still used the best parchment he could find. Said it made a stronger point to those in power. Oh, and his daughter was so angry about it!"

Lilia laughs. Three hours pass in this manner. He wafts through the air absentmindedly and bumps against your shoulder, sending him floating back in the other direction. When he drifts too far, he magically pops into another spot and makes you jump. He has a smile on his face, this is genuine fun for him.

You manage to fill in half a page with notes that seem kind of useful. You don't know how you'd source them in an essay, though, aside from "Lilia told me." You ask if he knows anything about the legendary Queendom of Roses Revolt and he launches into another unrelated story that happened around the same time about some really good chicken he once ate.

When you've had enough and the study session is over, Lilia thanks you. He gives you a piece of hard candy, its wrapper somewhat disheveled like it was in his pocket for a week. "It's important for kids like you to study hard," he says with a thumbs up. He pats you on the back before leaving. You consider asking Riddle for help the next time you have questions.

[bisexualbrainrots]

Return the Favor

did it just write angst in fluffebuary? yes yes I did, but it's all because of this gifset that compelled me to.

cw: major character injury, vomit, blood.

“Guess I finally got to return the favor, huh?”

Howie smiled at him, one of those smiles that turned him into the brightest light in the room, and grabbed harder at his shoulder as they managed to walk towards an exit point of the building. Howie laughed softly, a healing sound that would normally make him smile too.

But right now all Tommy could focus on was the amount of blood that adorned his friend’s (Could he still call him friend?) face. 

Lines that had rolled down the left side of his face, mixing with the dirt and grime. Thankfully, they had discarded anything more serious than a scalp laceration, but it was still worrying.

Tommy will always worry about Howie, no matter what.

“Took you long enough, I was beginning to think we’d always be in debt,” a small cough left his throat after he chuckled, which made Tommy stop dead in his tracks “I’m okay, we probably inhaled a ton of dust in there.”

Everything started at a factory. A fire that quickly turned into a second alarm that called for multiple stations, the 118 and 217 included. Tommy guessed it was luck that picked him for ground work that shift, but Howie would probably say it was fate.

He hopes it wasn’t, because otherwise Tommy couldn’t understand why fate would collapse a story that was clear and bring both of them down, making them fight for their lives.

Fate was confusing.

Tommy sighed and they continued their walk towards safety, the roaring sounds of firefighters signaling where to find them.

“Hey, Tommy… thank you.”

Howie looked at him with a fondness he thought would never reappear, which made Tommy get a funny feeling in his chest. He really didn’t want to start crying in front of Howie.

“I know it was… wrong of me to drop you after Buck—”

“You didn’t drop me Howie, you… you did what any friend would do.”

Howie shook his head, leaning in to get a closer look at Tommy’s face “You were my friend too, Tommy. Still are,” he held the hand that was resting on his waist, giving it a squeeze “I just hope you can forgive me for that.”

He took a deep breath, or as deep as he could when he was holding Howie “You don’t have to apologize for anything, after all—” Tommy’s smile widened as he took in the view of familiar faces, minus one he found out wasn’t in the state anymore, and bumped his hip with Howie to get his attention, pointing with his head “Would you look at that, seems like someone was looking for you.”

He should’ve guessed they’d be in the front lines. Tommy wonders how many protocols and orders the 118 disobeyed to get to them. It must’ve been a ton, but he guessed they didn’t give a damn.

“We’ll always look for each other.”

Tommy loved that about them.

He let go of Howie the closer they got to the rest, and patted him on the shoulder before giving him a gentle push towards the awaited reunion. Tommy stood as his friend was being pulled into a warm embrace by Bobby, Hen and… Evan. They were all so happy, he could even spot tears in Bobby’s eyes that threatened to come out.

They were all reunited again, as they were meant to be. Tommy watched from a distance, a tired but big smile on his face that rejoiced on the family he once had, the family he could've had.

He supposed it was good he was out of the picture, after all, he never truly felt like he belonged anywhere.

Okay, that was a lie, he did belong to a place and to a person, he was just too scared to let Evan belong to him.

He held his hands on his knees, chest heaving, feeling more tired thanks to the adrenaline finally running its course. His chest expanded as much as he could, lungs begging for air he tried to get in as best as they let him.

He could hear his heart in his ears, though he supposed it had to do with the fact that Evan was looking at him, a faint smile on his lips.

A smile that faded as soon as Tommy threw up and fell on his knees.

“T-tommy!”

This is normal, it's just the adrenaline fading, you're okay. You're okay.

He was in fact, not okay. 

Tommy wanted to rest so bad, to lay on the ground and take a nap, but his former family around him made it harder for him to let go. 

“Tommy, Tommy c'mon look at me, What hurts?”

He didn't even notice the grunts, his ears feeling like he had cotton stuffed in them, unable to listen to anything other than his rapid heartbeat and labored breathing. 

He tried, though, the best he could despite the fact that even speaking had become a hardship, “My stomach…” he didn't mention the fact that it had been hurting since he woke up after the collapse, he didn't even mention to Howie that rubble had fallen on him when they fell.

They laid him on the ground, Hen hurried to open his turnouts and Howie did a quick assessment of his injuries. He wanted to get them off him, tell them there was no reason to panic yet, that they had to focus on Howie. But if breathing was already complicated, talking wasn't much better. 

A warm pair of hands held one of his and he turned his head, finding Evan and his even warmer smile that any other day would've made him melt. But the fear in his eyes was making it harder.

He wanted to lean closer, to caress his cheek and tell him everything was going to be okay.

That was the idea, until Hen pulled his shirt upwards and everyone seemed to stop breathing at once, Evan's hold tightening.

Bobby barked instructions at someone, saying something about immediate assistance and getting them an ambulance ASAP.

“W-what…” he tried to look and exhaled when he saw his belly. From what he could see, a purple and red puddle had formed on his abdomen, which made sense why it hurt so much “Oh… right, the rubble.”

Howie turned his face to him, the same panic Evan had in his eyes “You had… Tommy, why didn't you tell me?”

He smiled faintly, tired, way too tired “You have… people, Howie… I, I couldn't let you die.”

Howie's eyes glistened, his brows pulled together as he blinked rapidly and got to work, putting on a pair of gloves (When did he get the gloves?) and palpated the area, getting an immediate wince and hiss in response.

“You have people too,” he heard Evan mutter, his head ducked.

Tommy gave him a weak smile. Evan was so sweet, even when he didn’t deserve that from him anymore.

He stroked his hand with his thumb, pretending for one second that Evan’s words were true. Their eyes met, and Tommy gulped when he noticed his ex had begun to tear up. He hated to be the reason behind his tears, regardless of the situation he had found himself in.

“I’ve got a collar,” he heard Hen shout (When had she left?) and in less than 5 seconds the thing was wrapped around his neck, and he huffed in frustration to the restraint he felt because of it.

“This is… stupid… I don’t need—”

“Will you just let us help? Tommy rubble fell on you, you are not okay,” Evan’s exasperated tone made him shrink. An overwhelming wave of emotions rushed through him, which probably showed on his face given the quick way in which Evan’s expression softened “Sorry, sorry it’s just… let us help, please.”

Despite priding himself on the way he would help others without giving it a second thought, he had never been good at accepting help. Even with something so obvious as getting a cold, where help has to practically be forced onto him. With Evan though, he could never say no, his stubborn ass never giving up a fight to help him.

He took a breath and supposed there was nothing he could do, not when Evan was involved “... Okay.” He nodded slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt his body being transported into something, probably a gurney.

He was way too tired to care.

“... hey, hey, open your eyes Tommy,” Howie’s voice brought him back long enough to get a feel of the gurney he was resting in. It was softer than he thought, or maybe the sleepiness was making him sink into it better. Whatever was the case, he was comfortable.

“Bu’ ‘m sleepy” he frowned. God he felt like a child again, being woken up by his mother on a school day.

He just wanted 5 more minutes.

“You’ll get to sleep once the doctors have checked you out, baby.”

Tommy perked up at the pet name. He looked for him and found those perfect blue eyes staring at him, his lips turned upwards in an attempt of a smile to give to Evan.

He was enchanted by those eyes. The way all of his attention was on them the first time they got to have a minute to talk alone. He wanted to swim in them, swim in that ocean of sweetness and craziness that called him in. He forgot he didn’t know how to swim though, not until he was sinking down and fearing that he had fallen without a lifesaver.

He supposed that was it, fear. Fear that constantly pulled him into a self-preservation mode, fear that made him sabotage every good thing he ever had, fear that made him unable to tell Evan that he loves him.

Shit, he loves him.

“Baby…” he called out, looking for his hand as they pulled him into the ambulance.

“I’m still here Tommy, I’m always here,” the strong grip of Evan’s hand on his was comforting, just like the movement of the ambulance that rocked him like a baby.

He was feeling cold though.

Tommy took a deep breath and looked at Evan, “I need… to tell you… that I—” whatever words he was meant to say were not there anymore, a sudden stop in his consciousness that had him closing his eyes and closing himself to the world.

The last thing he heard was Howie saying something about their debt. 

Maybe fate wanted this, as payback for the strip mall. Maybe this is how it was meant to be. Maybe he was always supposed to die with Howie by his side.

Fate didn’t count on the fact that Evan Buckley, his Evan, would be put by his side too. Didn't count on the fact that he would never bend to its will. It didn’t count on the fact that he was probably on top of him performing CPR by now, not that Tommy was aware of it anymore.

Damn it, he cursed out at fate, Why didn’t you let me say it?

Though he supposed it was fine, at least he wasn’t going through this alone.

He did hope they’d manage to save him on time.

Evan still owed him that beer.

[earthchica]

Sweetest Devotion

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: Your and Terry's son started preschool, and you and Terry continued discussing having another baby with you.

warnings: explicit smut 18+, oral (m & f ), unprotected sex, dirty talking, dilf! terry, daddy kink, breeding kink, baby fever, ovulating, fluff, five-year-old son, domestic life, angst, fainting, use of y/n, nicknames [ baby, sweetheart, baby girl & more ] words: 7k

note: I really love writing for this story, it has to be my fav. Please enjoy, but there may be some errors.

sequel to { funny how time flies } mini-series masterlist one { everything I ever wanted } two { make it right } three { you are my joy }

The preschool orientation came around, and you still danced around this baby topic. Elijah happily chatted about his new friends and couldn’t wait to learn with them.

It was Elijah’s first day, and you and Terry took off work to share in the excitement. You took many pictures before heading out, once at the preschool.

You watched as Elijah walked confidently into his new class, waving goodbye and not even glancing back. You turned to Terry, chuckling nervously.

“Well, that was…weird,” you pouted. “Thought he’d at least cry a little or something.”

Terry smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist. “He’s got your confidence. Eli is a natural.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into him. “Yeah, yeah. Still, I thought I’d at least get a dramatic goodbye. Maybe a tear or two. Guess I’m not as essential as I thought.”

“Oh, you’re essential, alright,” Terry said, squeezing your shoulder.

“But he’s just ready to take on the world. He’s a big boy.”

You lingered there momentarily, watching the classroom door as if expecting Elijah to burst out, realizing he’d forgotten something—or someone.

But the door remained closed, the faint sound of children laughing and teachers guiding them filtering through. You sighed, a mix of pride and wistfulness swirling in your chest.

Terry nudged you gently, his smirk softening into a smile. “Come on,” he said, tugging you down the hallway, but you heard a familiar voice calling out behind you.

“Daddy! Mama!”

You spun around to see Elijah running toward you, his little legs pumping furiously, his face full of excitement, his hazel eyes shining like twin suns.

You dropped to one knee instinctively, arms open wide, and he barreled into you with all the force of a tiny hurricane.

“Elijah!” you exclaimed, wrapping him in a tight hug, your heart swelling with relief and joy.

“What’s wrong, sweetie? Did you forget something?” you asked changing to curious and worried.

Elijah shook his head, “No!” he said, pulling back just enough to look at you with a serious expression.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’ll miss you! And… and I’ll be brave!”

Your eyes filled with tears, and you cupped his face. “Oh, Elijah,” you said, your voice trembling.

“You’re already so brave. We’re so proud of you.”

Terry knelt down beside you, caressing Elijah's head. “Yeah, little man,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re going to do great. And we’ll be here waiting for you when school ends.”

Elijah nodded solemnly, then leaned in to hug Terry quickly before returning to you.

“I Love you, Mama,” he said, kissing your cheek sloppy.

“I Love you too, my sweet baby,” you replied, giving him one last squeeze before standing up.

With a final wave, Elijah turned and ran back toward his classroom, where the teacher was waiting for him, his small frame disappearing through the door once more.

You stood there momentarily, watching the space where he had been, feeling the weight of his absence settle in your chest. Terry’s arm found its way around your shoulders again, pulling you close.

“He’s going to be fine,” Terry said softly, his voice reassuring. “And so are we.”

You nodded, leaning into him. “I know. It’s just… it’s a big step, you know? Our little boy is growing up.”

Terry chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, he is. But he’s still our little boy. Always will be.”

You sighed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I guess we’ve got some time to ourselves now,” you said, glancing up at him.

“What should we do?”

Terry’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, we could go get some coffee. Or… we could finally have that conversation about whether or not we’re ready for another little one.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the familiar mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling up inside you.

“You really want to talk about it now?” you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Terry shrugged, his expression softening. “We don’t have to if you’re not ready,” he said, his tone gentle.

You hesitated, the weight of his words pressing against your chest like a stone.

The thought of another child—another tiny heartbeat to care for, another soul to mold and guide—felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

You glanced at Terry, his eyes warm and patient, waiting for your response. His hand still rested on your shoulder, steadying you.

“I… I don’t know,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Elijah’s still so little, and there’s so much to consider. Can we enjoy this?”

Terry nodded, his thumb brushing against your arm in a soothing rhythm.

“I get it,” he said softly. “It’s a big decision. And you’re right—Elijah’s still our whole world. We don’t have to rush anything.”

You exhaled slowly, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

“I just want to make sure we’re doing it for the right reasons,” you admitted, looking up at him. "It has to feel… right.”

“Sure,” Terry said firmly, his gaze unwavering.

“And when it does feel right—whenever that is—we’ll know. ” He gave your shoulder a final squeeze before letting his hand drop.

“For now, let’s just enjoy this day. Coffee, maybe a walk, and then we’ll pick up our little man later. Sound good?” Terry added.

You nodded, a small smile breaking through the uncertainty. “Sounds perfect.”

-

As the weeks pass, you and Terry settle into a new routine. The days were filled with Elijah's laughter and stories about his friends at preschool, and the nights were spent in silent companionship.

You noticed the tiny distance between you and Terry - he was still the fantastic dad and husband he was, but there was a distance between you regarding intimacy.

The two of you haven't had sex in two weeks only because you haven't been in the mood, but a few days have gonna by. You were practically throwing yourself at Terry.

One evening, as you sat on the couch scrolling through your phone, Elijah was at preschool, and Terry was off work.

Instead of spending time with you. “Hey, baby! Heading into the garage for a bit,” Terry said casually.

“Gotta keep up with this routine.”

You paused, your heart skipping a beat.

Something about how he said it—so nonchalant, so routine—made you wonder if there was more to it.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Can I join you this time?”

Terry’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he nodded after a moment.

“Sure. If you want.”

You hurried upstairs to change, your mind racing.

You slipped into a form-fitting workout outfit, a tight sports bra that gave a good view of your breasts, and leggings that hugged your thick curves just enough to remind him of what he’d been missing.

The fabric clung to you in all the right places, and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You bit your lip with a spark of determination in your eyes.

When you descended the stairs, Terry was waiting by the door, looking sexy. His eyes flickered over you, and briefly, you saw something flicker in his gaze—something warm, familiar.

But just as quickly, it was replaced by his usual demeanor. “Ready?” he asked, holding the door open for you. You nodded, following him out into the cool evening air.

The walk to the garage was short but filled with tension. You could feel the space between you, charged with heat and desire. Once inside.

Terry started setting up his weights while you lingered near the thick yoga mat, stretching casually but deliberately. As you bent forward, your box braids falling over your shoulders, you caught Terry glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

You held the pose a little longer than necessary, feeling a thrill when he quickly looked away. You moved through a series of stretches, each designed to highlight your figure more.

You could feel his gaze flickering back to you occasionally, sending you a little satisfaction. You decided to take it further, letting your movements flow with a fluid grace that you knew would be hard for him to ignore.

You sank into a deep lunge, arching your back slightly so the curve of your ass became more pronounced.

"Terry," you called out softly, your voice carrying a teasing lilt. "Can you give me a hand with this pose? I think my form might be off."

He hesitated momentarily, clearly trying to stay focused on his routine, but eventually, he set down the dumbbell he was holding and walked over.

"Sure," he said, his tone neutral but his eyes lingering just a beat too long on your body. "What do you need?"

"Just guide my hips a little," you said innocently, looking up at him through your lashes. "I want to make sure I’m aligned properly."

Terry’s hands hovered uncertainly for a moment before settling on your hips.

His touch was tentative at first, but his grip tightened ever so slightly as he adjusted your stance. You could feel the warmth of his palms through the thin fabric of your leggings, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Like this?" Terry asked, his voice low and a little strained.

"Almost," you murmured, shifting your weight subtly so your ass brushed against his crotch. You felt him stiffen, but he didn’t pull away.

Instead, his hands lingered, fingers pressing into your hips with a barely restrained intensity. You arched your back just a little more, letting the curve of your spine draw his gaze downward.

“There,” you said softly, your voice like honey. “That feels perfect.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with tension, electric, and undeniable. You could hear the faintest hitch in his breath, the way it caught in his throat as his eyes traced the line of your body.

Then, slowly, you rose from the lunge, turning to face him. Your breasts pressed against his chest, and you tilted your head up ever so slightly, your lips parted just enough to be inviting.

“Thanks, baby, you’re the best,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but heavy with meaning. You stepped back, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

“I think I’ve got it now.”

Terry’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as they met yours. He didn’t say anything, but how he looked at you—like he was teetering on the edge of something—was enough to make your heart race.

You knew you had him right where you wanted him, and the power of that knowledge sent a thrill coursing through your veins. You turned away from him with a sly smile, swaying your hips just enough to keep him hooked.

"Alright then," you said, your tone light but laced with intention. "Guess I’ll get back to it."

You moved away from him, putting just enough distance between you two to make him ache. Then, without warning, you dropped into a quick set of jumping jacks.

Your arms swung wide, and your breasts bounced rhythmically with each motion, drawing his gaze like a magnet. You could feel his eyes on you, hot and heavy, but you didn’t look back. Instead, you kept going, letting the rhythm of your movement amplify the tension in the room.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, low enough that he probably thought you couldn’t hear it. But you did, and it only fueled your fire.

"Somethin’ wrong, Terry?" you called out between breaths, your voice dripping with feigned innocence as you continued your exercise.

"You lookin’ a little… distracted over there."

He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"Nah," he said gruffly, his voice rough like gravel.

"Just makin’ sure you keeping that form tight. Can’t have you slacking now.” But the way his eyes stayed glued to your body betrayed him—his words were weak, and you both knew it.

You slowed, letting your arms fall to your sides as you turned to face him again. Sweat glistened on your skin, and you licked your lips slowly, deliberately, watching his gaze follow the movement.

“Oh, I ain’t slacking, baby,” you purred, stepping closer to him with a sway in your hips that made his breath hitch. “You the one lookin’ all kinds of tense over there. Maybe you need some… loosening up.”

His jaw clenched, and you could see the muscle ticking in his cheek as he fought to keep control. But you weren’t about to let him off that easy.

You closed the distance between you, standing so close that your breasts brushed against his chest again with every breath. Your hand reached up, fingers trailing lightly along the curve of his jaw before sliding down to rest on his chest.

You could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm, and it only made you smirk.

“You like what you see?” you whispered. Your voice was low and sultry, dripping with confidence, making Terry’s breath catch in his throat. "Do you want me right now?

His chest rose and fell faster now, his eyes locked on yours like he was trying to figure out if you were playing or serious. But you weren’t playing.

Not this time.

“You know I do,” he finally replied, his voice deep and low. His hand grabbed your wrist lightly but didn’t pull it away. Instead, he pressed your palm firmer against his chest, letting you feel the heat of him, the way his heart was pounding like a drumbeat just for you.

“You know I always want you.”

You tilted your head, your lips curling into a sly smile as you leaned in closer, your breath brushing against his ear.

“Then why you have been actin’ like you don’t?” you murmured, your voice honey-sweet but cutting straight to the point.

“Why have you been keeping your distance, Terry? You ain’t been touching me like you used to. Ain’t been lookin’ at me like you need me.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip on your wrist tightening just a fraction. His tone steady but laced with something raw, something unspoken.

“I have been respecting your wishes, baby. You said you haven't been in the mood, so I wasn't gonna push.” His voice dropped lower, a growl that sent shivers down your spine.

“But don’t for a second think I don’t want you every damn day.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, your fingers trailing down his chest, over the hard planes of his abs, until they rested just above the waistband of his shorts.

“Respecting my wishes, huh?” you teased, your voice dripping with a playful challenge.

“That’s cute, Terry. That's really sweet of you. I'm sorry…that's on me, but I am in the mood now, fuck me, please, I need you, Daddy” Your fingers dipped lower, brushing against the bulge in his shorts, and you felt him twitch beneath your touch.

“You have been holding back on me, and it’s been driving’ me crazy. I like it when you’re all over me, even if I say I’m not in the mood.”

Terry’s breath hitched, his hands moving to your hips, gripping you with a possessiveness that made your knees weak.

“Fuck” he growled, his voice low, and his eyes were dark, intense, and filled with a hunger that made your heart race.

“Let’s fix it,” he said, his voice firm. “Right now.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, claiming you with a desperation that took your breath away. It wasn’t soft or gentle; it was raw and consuming like he was trying to make up for every moment he’d been distant.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

“I miss your touch, Daddy,” You moaned, taking his tank off, went to caress his erection through his shorts, and got on your knees while looking up at him.

Terry’s breath hitched as your fingers traced his outline through the fabric, his hands instinctively finding their way to your shoulders.

“Baby…” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers tightened slightly, grounding himself as you looked up at him with those big doe eyes that always seemed to see straight through him.

You didn’t waste any time, tugging at the waistband of his shorts until they slid down his hips, freeing him. The sight of him—hard and ready for you—sent a jolt of heat straight to your core.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip before letting your tongue trace a slow, deliberate path along his length. His hips jerked involuntarily, and you could feel the tension in his body as he fought to keep himself still.

“Damn, girl,” he groaned, his voice rough and strained. His hands moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your braids as you took him deeper into your mouth.

Your rhythm was slow and deliberate, each movement designed to drive him wild. He let out a low growl, his grip tightening just enough to let you know he was barely holding it together.

But you weren’t done yet.

You pulled back slightly, teasing him with the tip of your tongue before taking him in again, this time deeper, your lips wrapping around him with practiced ease.

Terry’s breath came in short, ragged bursts, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to maintain control. "You’re gonna be the death of me," he muttered, his voice shaking with need.

Your hands moved to his hips, anchoring him as you continued to work him with your mouth, each stroke drawing out more of those delicious sounds from him.

You could feel the tension coiling in his body, the way his muscles tightened beneath your touch. Knowing you had this kind of power over him was intoxicating, knowing you could bring him to the edge so effortlessly.

But you wanted more than just his pleasure. You wanted to see him unravel completely, to hear every filthy word spill from those lips as he lost himself in you.

Pulling back with a slow, deliberate drag of your tongue, you looked up at him, your lips glistening, your eyes heavy with desire. “You wanna feel how much I’ve been missing you, Daddy?” you purred, your voice dripping with honeyed temptation.

Your hands slid up his thighs, nails digging lightly into his skin as you teased him with your words. “You wanna know how much I’ve been dreaming about this? ‘Bout you?”

Terry’s jaw clenched, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, his eyes burning with a fire that made your entire body ache. His hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up to his.

“You been dreaming ‘bout me, baby? ‘Bout what I’d do to you?”

You nodded, your breath hitching as his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “Dreaming ‘bout how you’d stretch me out, fill me up, make me scream your name ‘til the neighbors call the cops.”

You licked your lips, your eyes locking with his, unflinching. “Dreaming’ ‘bout how you’d hold me down, make me take every inch of you ‘til I’m begging for mercy. Dreaming ‘bout how you’d make me yours—all over again.”

Terry let out a guttural groan, his free hand gripping your hair tighter as he pulled you closer to him. “Mmm...let me make that dream come true, would you like that?” he growled, his voice dark and dangerous.

“Yes, let me finish,” you said, your voice sultry and defiant. You leaned in again, taking him into your mouth once more, this time with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

Your tongue swirled around him, your lips working him with a rhythm that had his legs trembling beneath him. You could feel the way his body tensed, the way he fought to keep himself from thrusting too hard.

“Shit,” he hissed, his head falling back as he let out a string of curses that only spurred you on. “You gon’ make me lose it, girl. Fuck, you got me ready to bust, and you ain’t even let me touch you yet.”

His voice was raw and ragged like it was being ripped from his chest. “You think you can handle all this pent-up tension? You think you can take what I got for you?”

You pulled back just enough to let him see the wicked grin on your lips, your eyes glinting with mischief. “Daddy, yes, give me all that you got,” you purred, your voice smoky and full of promise.

“I have been waiting for this, waiting for you.”

Terry’s laugh was low and throaty, but it didn’t mask the hunger in his eyes. He reached down, gripped your braids, and guided you back to him.

“You talkin’ like that you didn't have me waiting for it first,” he murmured, his voice dripping with menace. “But Imma give you exactly what you've been asking’ for.”

His grip tightened as he pressed himself more profoundly into your mouth, a groan rumbling in his chest.

“Shit, baby! You're so good at this—like you were born just to suck me off,” Terry growled, his voice thick with lust. He pulled you up suddenly, his hands rough and possessive as they roamed your body.

“But I’mma need more than that pretty pussy right now. I miss it.” Terry said, dragging you across the room, his movements urgent and commanding.

Your heart raced as he tossed you onto a thick, plush mat on the floor, the friction of the fabric against your skin sending shivers down your spine.

Terry loomed over you, his eyes blazing with hunger, and you knew there was no escaping what was coming next. “On all fours,” he ordered, his voice low and gravelly, leaving no room for argument.

You obeyed instantly, your body trembling with anticipation as you positioned yourself on your hands and knees. Terry knelt behind you, his hands gripping your hips with a dominance that made your breath hitch.

Terry ripped a hole in your leggings, the sound of fabric tearing echoing through the room. "Oh baby," he muttered, his voice dripping with approval as he exposed your ass.

He smacked it hard, the sharp sting making you gasp and arch your back. "You been walking’ around like this, all this ass out here tempting me? You knew what you were doing!"

Terry growled, his voice thick with desire. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, sending shivers through your body as he leaned down, his breath hot against your skin.

“You have done it now. You got me all worked up, and I ain’t letting you off easy.”

His tongue flicked out, teasing the sensitive skin at the small of your back before trailing lower, leaving a wet, hot path that made you shudder.

“Fuck, Terry,” you moaned, your voice trembling as his hands spread you open wider. He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin as his tongue dipped lower, brushing against the folds of your pussy with a teasing flick.

“Damn, baby,” he murmured, his voice muffled as he pressed his face deeper between your ass cheeks.

“You taste so fuckin’ good. Like sweet candy—I could eat this pussy all day.” His tongue swirled around your clit, slow and deliberate, drawing a whimper from your lips.

“You like that? You like how Daddy’s taking care of you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your hands clawing at the mat beneath you as his tongue worked you like a damn masterpiece. “Yes, Daddy,” you whimpered, your voice shaking with need.

“Please—fuck, don’t stop.”

He growled against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. “You beggin’ already?” he teased, pulling back just enough to make you ache.

“Nah, baby.....” His hands gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he leaned back, his dick hard and heavy against your ass.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he traced a finger down the curve of your spine. “All this ass up in the air, just begging for me to ruin you.”

He smacked your ass again, harder this time, the sting making you cry out and push back against him instinctively. “Yeah, that’s it,” he said, his voice dripping with approval.

“Show me how bad you want it.”

“Please, Terry,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation as you rocked back against him. “I need it—I need you inside me. Fuck me, please, big daddy.”

Terry chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his dick teasing your slick folds.

"You sure, baby?" Terry murmured his voice a low growl that made your stomach tighten.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper as you pushed back against him, trying to take him in. "Please, Daddy—I need it. I need you so bad."

"Alright," Terry said, his voice thick with approval as he gripped your hips and slammed into you in one smooth, brutal stroke. The air left your lungs in a rush, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as he filled you, stretching you most deliciously.

"Fuck," Terry groaned, his voice strained as he paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the feel of him. "Pussy always gotta gripping’ me like it ain’t never letting go."

"Don’t stop," you begged, your voice shaking as you clenched around him, your body already craving more. "Please—fuck me."

"Shit," Terry muttered, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled out almost entirely before slamming back in, the force of it making your breath hitch.

"You feel that, baby? That’s all me, stretching’ you out, makin’ this pussy mine." His thrusts were relentless, each one deeper and harder than the last, and you could feel the heat building in your core with every movement.

"Damn, you take it so well," Terry growled, his voice rough and raw with need. "This pussy was made for me and only me—you hear me? Made. For. Me."

"Y-yes, Terry," you stammered, your voice breaking as he hit that spot inside you that made your vision blur.

"All yours—only yours." Your hands clawed at the mat beneath you, desperate for something to hold onto as he fucked you senseless, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body.

"That’s right," Terry said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he leaned over you, one hand sliding up to grip your throat just enough to make your pulse race.

"You’re the best wife, Y/N the best thing that's ever happened to me. I’m so grateful to call you mine,” he added.

“Oh, Terry, yes,” you moaned, feeling grabbed your breasts through your sports bra.

“Fuck…always takin’ this dick like a champ—like you were born for it. Turn around for me, and let me see your face and those tits."

You whimpered at his command, your body trembling as you turned to lay on your back as he slides his dick deep inside you. The movement made you gasp, the fullness of him sending a jolt of pleasure through your core.

Terry’s dark eyes locked onto yours, his gaze hungry and predatory as he hovered over you, his hands moving to tear off your sports bra swiftly.

Your breasts spilled free, and he groaned low in his throat, his eyes taking over your exposed skin like he was devouring you whole. Terry growled, his voice thick with lust as he palmed your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples.

“Look at you—fuckin’ perfect. These tits? Mine. This pussy? Mine. All of you—mine.” Terry leaned down, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as he rolled the other between his fingers.

The dual sensation made you arch into him, a desperate moan escaping your lips as he teased and tormented you.

“Terry, please,” you begged, your hands tangling in his hair as he continued to feast on you. “I need you to keep going…fuck me more, please.”

Terry pulled back with a wet pop, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he looked down at you. "No need to beg, baby," he said, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers down your spine.

"You already know I’m gon’ give you what you need." His hands slid down your body, rough and wild, gripping your hips as he pulled out slowly, teasing you with the drag of his dick before slamming back in with a force that made you cry out.

"Fuck, Terry!" you screamed, your nails digging into his shoulders as he set a brutal pace, each thrust driving more profound, more challenging, until you felt like he was everywhere—filling you, owning you, consuming you.

"Y-you feel so good—so damn good!" you moaned. "Yes, do you feel that? Feel how deep I’m in you? Huh?" Terry asked.

"Yes, I feel it!" you cried out, your back arching off the mat as he pounded into you with a ferocity that left you breathless.

"You’re so deep—oh, you’re everywhere! Terry, please—I need more! Fuck another baby in me, please!"

"Are you sure?" Terry growled, his eyes dark with hunger as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue invading your mouth with the same intensity as his dick was ravaging your core.

"Because I’ll give you what you want. You want me to put another baby in you? Huh? Are you ready for that?"

"Yes, please, yes!" you moaned into his mouth, your hands moving to grip his ass, pulling him deeper still.

"Fuck, you beg so pretty," Terry snarled, his voice dripping with raw desire as he slammed into you again, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room.

"You hear that? That sound your pussy makin’ when I hit it? That’s what I wanna hear every damn night. You gon’ give me that, huh? Gon’ let me wreck this pussy whenever I want?"

"Yes, Terry—oh fuck, yes!" you cried out, your body trembling as he drove into you with relentless force. His words were filthy, dripping with a hunger that matched his movements, and they only made you want him more.

"Wreck me—fuck me however you want! I’m yours—all yours, fuck another baby into me please!"

Terry’s hands tightened around your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he leaned back slightly, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

“You want another baby? Huh? You want me to fill you up, plant my seed deep in you, and watch you grow with another child inside you?”

“Yes!” you screamed, your voice hoarse from the relentless pleasure as you clawed at his chest, your nails raking down his skin. “I want it—I want you to fill me! I need it, Terry—please!”

Terry growled low, the sound primal, as he thrust into you harder, faster, each stroke more punishing than the last.

The garage was filled with the raw, wet sounds of your bodies colliding, the slapping of skin against skin, and the desperate, breathless moans spilling from your lips.

“Say it again,” Terry demanded, his voice rough and guttural, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he pulled you into him with every brutal stroke.

“Say you want me to come inside you, to make another baby. Say it.”

“I want it! I want you to come inside me—oh, Terry, please! I need it—I need you to fill me up!”

“Fuck,” Terry cursed, his face twisted in a mixture of pleasure and raw, animalistic need. “You’re such a good girl, takin’ this dick like you were made for it. My girl, my wife, my everything.”

His hands moved to your waist, lifting you slightly as he pounded into you, each thrust lifting you off the mat.

The world around you blurred, the only focus the relentless drive of his hips, the heat building in your core, and the raw, unfiltered pleasure coursing through every nerve in your body.

“Come on, baby,” Terry growled, his voice strained as he leaned over you again, his mouth brushing against your ear.

“I feel you squeezing me, but don’t you dare come yet. You hear me? You wait for me. We come together.”

“T-Terry, please—I—” You couldn’t finish the sentence, your breath catching as he hit that perfect spot again, your body trembling on the edge of release.

“Not yet,” Terry snapped, his thrusts becoming erratic, wild, as he chased his own climax. “Hold on, baby—hold on for me!”

Your hands clawed at his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him deeper, your body desperate for more. The heat inside you was building, coiling tighter and tighter until it became almost unbearable.

“Let me see your face,” Terry growled, lifting his head to lock his eyes with yours. “I want to see you when you cum. I want to see my baby full of my dick, takin’ every inch like the good girl you are.”

The words sent a shiver through you, and you could feel the dam breaking. “Terry—I can’t—oh fuck—”

“Now,” he barked, his voice harsh as he slammed into you one final, brutal time. “Cum now, sweetheart”

Your body obeyed, the release tearing through you like a freight train as you screamed, the sound raw and guttural. Terry wasn’t far behind, his growl deep and primal as he buried himself inside you, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into you, hot and thick.

For a moment, time stood still as the two of you rode the wave of your climaxes; the only sound was your ragged breathing and the pounding of your heart.

Then, slowly, Terry collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the mat as he buried his face in your neck, his chest heaving with exertion.

Terry flips off of you and lies there; his breath slowly steadies, and he turns his head to gaze into your eyes, the intensity still burning within them.

Terry brushed a braid from your face, his touch tender yet charged with the remnants of their passion. "Fuck...I love you," he whispered, his voice still husky.

"I love you too, Terry." You smiled weakly, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of their climax. Terry shifted slightly, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you like a shield.

The garage was quiet now, the only sound the soft hum of the world outside, a stark contrast to the raw energy that had filled the space just moments before.

As you lay there, the weight of Terry's words settled over you. The want for another child, for the expansion of your family, lingered in the air.

You thought about the future, about the possibilities, and how this moment might be the beginning of something new. Terry's hand drifted to your belly, his fingers tracing gentle circles as if envisioning the life that might soon grow there.

"We'll see," he murmured, a soft smile on his lips. "We'll see."

-

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks slipped into a month, then more. Life fell into its familiar rhythm, but something felt different.

At first, it was just a faint morning nausea, a queasiness that lingered long after breakfast. You brushed it off as a stomach bug, something that would pass.

But as the days went on, the sickness persisted, and with it came a weariness that clung to you like a second skin. You were always tired, no matter how much you slept, and the smell of the simplest meals could send you running for the bathroom.

Terry noticed first, of course. He always did. He’d watch you with that sharp, observant gaze, his brow furrowing when you pushed food around your plate or excused yourself again to be sick.

“You should go to the doctor,” Terry said one morning as you sat on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands.

“You’ve been feeling like shit for weeks. It’s probably just a bug, but you must ensure it’s not something more serious. You might be pregnant; we've been trying.”

But you were stubborn, not thinking you were pregnant just yet, even if you two were trying. You shook your head, insisting you were okay, that it was just stress or something you’d eaten.

Terry sighed and dropped it, but he wasn’t convinced. Then came the day at the zoo. Elijah was bouncing with excitement, his tiny hands clutching the map as he dragged Terry toward the lion enclosure.

You trailed behind, the sun beating down on you, making your head swim. The air was thick with the smells of popcorn and sweat, and your stomach churned in protest.

You paused and took a breath while leaning against a railing as the world spun around you. “Mama! Mama, look! The lions are eating!” Elijah’s voice carried back to you, distant but clear.

You tried to smile, to wave, but your vision blurred at the edges. Terry turned, his expression shifting from amusement to concern in an instant.

“Hey,” Terry said, stepping closer. “You good you look-.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, but your voice wavered.

"Sweetheart, you know it's me you're talking...I know when something is wrong," Terry said, but the ground tipped beneath your feet, and everything went black before you could stop it.

-

"Daddy, I think she's waking up," you heard a familiar voice as you opened your eyes and lay in a clinic bed.

Terry’s face was etched with worry, and Elijah sat in a chair beside him, his small face drawn.

“Thank God,” Terry whispered, his voice cracking as he took your hand.

"What happened?" You whispered.

“You fainted, scared the hell out of us, baby.”

You tried to speak again, but your throat was dry. A nurse bustled in, smiling warmly, and handed you a cup of water.

“Take small sips,” she said. “You’ve been out for 20 mintues.”

As you drank, the doctor came in, clipboard in hand. “Good to see you’re awake, Mrs. Richmond,” he said.

“You fainted at the zoo; your husband brought you in. We ran some tests." The doctor’s voice was calm and reassuring, but you could sense a hint of excitement beneath his professional demeanor.

“You fainted due to a combination of dehydration and low blood sugar, but…” The doctor paused, glancing at Terry and Elijah before returning to you.

“We also found something else during the tests.”

Terry’s hand tightened around yours, his eyes narrowing slightly as if bracing for news. Elijah, oblivious to the tension, leaned forward, his curiosity piqued.

“What is it?” Elijah asked, his tiny voice breaking the silence. The doctor smiled a small smile that put you at ease. “It seems you’re going to be a family of four soon. You’re pregnant.”

The words hung in the air like a whispered secret, their weight settling over you like a soft blanket. You blinked, your mind racing. Pregnant?

Terry gave you a *I told ya so* look and you should've known, and the nausea, the fatigue, it all made sense. A small, incredulous laugh bubbled up in your throat, but it caught there, leaving you breathless.

Terry’s face transformed in an instant. His initial shock melted into a vast, radiant smile, and he squeezed your hand so hard it almost hurt.

“Really?” Terry asked, his voice trembling with hope. “Are you sure?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes, very sure. She's about eight weeks along. Everything looks healthy. You just need to stay hydrated, Mrs. Richmond, take it easy for a while, and come in for regular check-ups.”

Elijah, who had been quietly processing this information, suddenly jumped.

“We’re gonna have a baby!” Elijah exclaimed, his voice ringing. He jumped on the bed and threw his arms around your neck, almost knocking over the water cup on the bedside table.

“I’m gonna be a big brother! I’m gonna teach them everything!”

You laughed then, the sound breaking free from your chest. It was a shaky, half-tearful laugh, but it felt good. Terry leaned over, kissing your forehead, his eyes shining with unspoken promises.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Terry whispered. “We’re gonna be great.”

The doctor smiled again, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I’ll give you a few minutes,” he said, stepping out of the room.

“We’ll set you up with an appointment with your preferred OBGYN for a follow-up, and I’ll send in a nurse with more information.”

As the door closed behind him, you looked at Terry and Elijah, your heart swelling with love and gratitude.

“I’m gonna be a big brother,” Elijah repeated with a giggle. He pressed a small, earnest kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll take care of the baby, Mama. I promise.”

Terry chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “I think we’re all going to take care of the baby,” he said, wrapping his arms around you.

“Together.”

You leaned into him, feeling his warmth, his strength, and let the happiness wash over you.

TAGS

@saturnville @kisssssssssssss @grlsbstshot @nayaesworld @onherereading @blyffe @duhitzkay380

@milktert @sefiya0x @urgirlygoddess @honeytoffee @cocooned-butterfly

@vivaalenaa @m1sk1n3 @blackpinup22 @writingsbytee

@peachbuttetfly @ayeeeitsmiracle @fakxmbj @ariiaellbtheedonn

[y-urios]

　 　　 　ℐ　　𓈒　　𝐹rayed 𝓃𝑜tes ♮f 𝑀us𝒾𝒸 　🎹 　𓏵 　　　　　　 　the results: 2.5k event special by @y-urios

ℐ　　𓈒　a　 quick　 foreword 　by　 evie 　𓏵

　𓈒　　HI IM NOT EVEN JOKIN GWHEN I SAY IVE BEEN PUTTING THIS OFF FOR SO LONG BC THERE ARE SO MANY FREAKING PRETTY ENTIRES IT HURTS ME TO PICK JUST 3... so i picked more than 3... the way i want to put everyone sin the mentions sighs.. laughs nervously.. uhm. its the fact that im almost at 3k and i still havent posted the reuslts for my 2.5K.. event.. realization hit!! 　𓈒　a big thank you to everyone who joined this event: @atsubie @n-americano @soulari @7kyujin @ningrlz @miujo @misodolls @galapogos @hypndiary @lvioung@beompercar @hourlyhoon @mminmgi 　𓈒　now ill shut the fuck up and announce the winners

ℐ　　𓈒　the　 winners　 & 　mentions　 　𓏵

ℐ　　𓈒　　1st place @lvioung + entry u dont know me well enough if you didnt expect me to at least place this moodboard to win.. THE FREAKING COLORS? THE STORY OH MY GOHS?? THE VIBE IS SO PRETTY OVERALL AND THE STORY ADDS SO MUCH TO IT I LOVE THIS SO MUCH suni u are just way too talented whether it's a 3x3 or a non 3x3, IU LIT LOOKS SO FRAEKING GORGEOUS omg i love this mb sm and u suni!! I LOWK STARED FOR SO LONG WHEN I SAW U POST THIS CS IT WAS DOWNRIGHT GORGEOUS. 𓏵　　𓈒　　2nd place @ningrlz + entry when i made this event i didnt expect anyone to post a moodboard with the misc instrumnts cs i thought it was pretty hard to do but you pretty much proved me wrong with this GORGEOUS moodboard. the colors and the warm vibes are so fucking pretty and i love how each color complements each other and overall its so freaking cute i love it ist just gorgeous idk how else teo describe it its just too freaking pretty ℐ　　𓈒　　3rd place @n-americano & @soulari entry + entry THESE WERE BOTH SO FREAKING PRETTY AND I SWEAR I COULDNT JUST PLACE ONE OF YOU GUYS AS THIRD OKAY I KEPT DEBATING BETWEEN THE TWO OF U AND DEICDE TO MAKE U GUYS SHARE 3RD PLACE!! both of ur moodboards are so freaking pretty, i love everything about them and the color match agh ari & zia are so frkaeing talented at color match its crazy , ari ur mb lit reminds me of an electric guitar and omg zia urs does too, but with this cozy warm feeling and its so YUMMY omg idk how else to describe it either but you guys did so frekaing well and u lowk deserve more than 3rd ☹️☹️ ℐ　𓈒　　honorable mentions @atsubie entry just freaking gorgeous i love this and im so sorry i coudlnt place u ☹️but the colors oh my oghs screams kicks my feet stares @miujo entry dan thisi s just outright pretty as fuck like all ur mbs, whenver i look at it i actually feel so freaking bad for only giving u an honourlbe mtnion when u desrve so much more for this entry u were so on point with the theme & the colors omg where d oi even start @hourlyhoon entry sososo cute omg!! i love the brass pictures you used too omg they fit so well in ur mb which is why im giving u this mention cs i love the ecolors you used for this entry & the overall feleing im getting from it is so welceoming and yummy HLEP, its so pretty and i love it smsm !!

ℐ　　𓈒　　　prizes!　 　𓏵

to the winners + mentions : please msg me to claim ur prizes!! (send the post(s) you would like me to reblog and gg idols you would like me to make a mb of!! (1-3 depending on prize heh) and if u want to try ur chances u can send some bg maybe idk!

ℐ　　𓈒　　1st place　　 follow if not already, 3 moodboards by me, 100 reblogs , shoutout on my pinned post for 1 month 𓏵　　𓈒　　2nd place　　 follow if not already, 2 moodboards by me, 75 reblogs, shoutout on my blog ℐ　　𓈒　　3rd place　　 follow if not already, 1 moodboard by me, 50 reblogs, shoutout on my blog can all be negotiable &　 ℐ　𓈒　　honorable mentions get 15 rblgs

[smilepilled]

a compilation of love letters (/community, familial, friendly, fellowship, etc.) from me, marcela, to many different people who have had a positive impact on me. please take your time to find your own blog, and please have a lovely day. i may update this throughout time, so keep an eye out for your blog handle here!

will not be in any particular order. ❤️‍🩹

BEFORE YOU GO, PLEASE KEEP IN MIND — I MAY NOT FULLY BE ABLE TO CORRELATE YOUR BLOG AND YOUR DISCORD ACCOUNT! that's a skill issue from me, and it doesnt mean i dont care-- its just extremely hard for me, personally. ive been trying to get better at it, but i hope my messages still manage to be something nice even if i didnt manage to link your blog to your personal discord presence. sorry, and thank you ♡

@radiomogai — 🎙📻📡🧮

i think not enough people say this, but you're a very important figure in the mogai community. your disclaimers and warnings to the masses that lurk through many tags and blogs are not only heard, but cherished. i remember being intimidated by you up until actually interacting with you, and youre a joy to be around. i still laugh at the time i made the christmas picture and added you as an actual radio; you are remembered fondly. i greatly appreciate your presence in this community beyond the archival, because you yourself are great. as in, a lovely company, a dear friend. i have so much i owe to you way above the themes or archival, but you also do a great job with your archive. i greatly respect you, and feel happy in your presence. thank you for being here, seriously. i hope i get the chance to do more to help you out whenever you need it. you're the one of the most patient and gentle people ive seen in this community, and its almost shocking with how people test patiences all around. thank you

@rwuffles — 🟩🟦🟥🟪🟨

mogaiblr jesus... indeed! you make such lovely things and you genuinely terrify me when i see that your queue is still at 400 after a bajillion posts (positively terrific). aside feom that, you are genuinely such a ray of sunshine, watching you play tetris leaves me in awe and the moments ive shared with you are very cherished to me. i like talking to you and youre incredibly kind, despite people testing you and The Horrors. i hope i can get to talk to you more, so i can properly get to communicate how cool you are to you, directly. your presence is strong and felt throughout the entirety of the spaces you're in; but don't forget, you're not a president or a professional, you're one of your fellows. should you ever need help or time to breathe, im sure your community will have your back-- i can definitely say i do. please be kind to yourself, and please take care. youre genuinely precious to be around and im sure a plethora of people agree. you are the little golden critter amongst us, and i feel like maybe sometimes you may not feel like it-- dont worry, we will always be here to remind you. youre the sun where your community basks and dances, and you're here with us too! thank you

@scr-ppup — 🪖🌫💣🥽

i genuinely love the stuff you cole up with, and the kindness that you extend to people-- the one of which youve also extended to me. maybe its a silly thing to mention, but youve helped me a lot in times where i couldnt even do a simple little descriprion for a flag. and it means a lot to me, regardless of how small this gesture may be to other people. you are genuinely so comforting to be around, i know i may be wrong but i feel like i have a huge bodyguard behind me chatting and drinking tea when im near you. i really like seeing you interact with people and im always happy to interact with you, even if it happens not so often. your creations never cease to amaze me and theres times where i squeal seeing something you make. you are truly one of the most badass, yet kindest people here. i mean it. thank you

@gender-mailman — ❤️‍🩹💌🩸🔪

you were one of the first people i had courage to interact with in mogaiblr, if i remember correctly-- back when i was themed as a velvet worm. your blog and presence SCREAMED friendliness (and BPD), and i just felt really reassured in it. regardless of your scrumptious creations (pallettes and symbols 🤌), you're such a ball of energy and you're so silly, and of course, extremely easy to talk to. it really makes me smile remembering when i was afraid to ask about when i should join the Evil Mogai Business, worried it'd be phrased poorly, and you just said that you did exactly what i was planning-- it was such a relief. despite the lack of recent "bug talking to you" activities, i want to thank you for the comfort youve brought to me, and the kindness youve shown whenever i talked to you. you're one of the most passionate and easily-talkable folks i know, bonus points for you being brazilian. thank you

@lovesse — 💥🎀💄💗

you are THE "popular IT girl" figure in this community, to me (unsure if you're a girl, im going purely from vibes though). as in, i've looked up to you since the very beggining. your presence is strong and assuring, and your creations are the fucking peak of this realm. some of your terms resonated so well with me that i wondered where the cameras were (jokingly of course). but aside from that, you've always been a very positive figure to me, and i'm always very happy seeing activity from you. i know you've been through a lot in this community, and i hope you don't mind bringing your presence in it up, but you've done so much for it and i need people to acknowledge it. we don't know eachother very well, and we haven't talked much outside of tumblr evil business, but your presence makes me glad. thank you for always being such a great lighthouse for the seadwellers in this community. youre a greatly inspirational figure and you are charm-maxxing (/platonic, "girl you rock!" coded?). thank you

@laughdiamond — 🌻🌿🌾🌱

you!!!! youuuu started ALL of my curiosity or this community. if i had someone to thank for making me deep-dive into goodfaith, mogai and community, its you. your blog was the first i found after the times i lurked in pinterest for the time i hoarded xenogenders and microlabels-- a linked post, and i found my way to your blog. the yaoyao conductor theme, extremely eyecandy-ful, i remember getting sparkly eyed at your blog and creations. i think i know a good amount of them from memory (but its always difficult to remmeber the names, thats my skill issue whatsoever), which goes to shoe just how much of an impact your presence around these parts had. and im not trying to be parasocial, you genuinely did help me, eye-to-eye telling you this. im sorry i never properly expressed to you my appreciation, up until it was far too late (seen as youve left this place, with rightful motive). you're always gonna be a fond memory to me, you're the nostalgia blog of this community for me. i full-heartedly thank you to no end for what your blog has done to help me, regardless of being < the blog that got me into mogaiblr >. dont ever apologize for it, either, i knoe theres negative aspects to this space but YOU are a part of the good aspects. once again, thank you for your lovely creations, thank you for what youve done for me, and thank you for your presence in times before. thank you

@lunentity — ✨️🔮🌙🪩

YOU! the moon in its mystique magnificence, giving terms to people like meteors with fun gifts from the cosmos. you are such an ICON to me, genuinely such a huge inspiration as well. talking to you is also never scary or the like, youre such a kind and easy-going person. surely im not the closest to you, but it doesn't take away from what i say, you are extremely easy to be around, and thats something i really appreciate. im always happy to tag you in a post with the moon mentioned, or something that i see and go "OH! MOONY WOULD LOVE THIS!" on the spot. you are extremely kind and sweet, like a cold day when youre wrapped in 4 heavy blankets playing animal jam with a bag of snacks and soda. your presence is felt in what is reassuring and friendly. i have not checked up on you lately, but i hope you're okay, and all is well for you. you're such a kind and heart-warming person, i am grateful for our interactions and convos. thank you

@kiruliom — 🧸🌸🌊🩸

we may not interact a whole lot, but YOU are so whimsical. no, seriously, you are so joyful its astonishing. and you always manage to keep your cheermaxxed status despite speaking up on multiple important topics, which i find very balance pilled and awesome. youre not scary despite your ghostface motifs, and i think youre like a uncle/aunt figure (whichever word you personally would use), a kind of distant yet kindly relative in the eyes of the liomogai community; which i also strive to be, so its nice to see YOU recreate it so well. we havent talked (much?) personally, so i think this is more how i view you currently havent spoken not to you in personal. you remind me of the animal jam Crystal Sands OST, and thats one of the biggest compliments i can give-- its very directly related to you being comforting, so i hope you know your presence is very welcoming. your terms are a CHEF'S KISS to me, and i feel very happy whenever you post. i think

@buntress — 🐇🧨🔪🔗

i look up to you like an autistic little thing staring up with HUGE bug eyes. i am to this day so sorry and apolocheeseful for the pride star incident, but i know youve since understood that i made a mistake and youre chill about it. i LOVE your terms, and i swallow your posts without chewing on them like a sucuri giant brazilian snake. genuinely feel very happy when i see a post from you, or when interaction occurs. youre so so cool and kick-ass to me, youre like the big sibling that i see being punk rock and cheer on. i dont even know if youre older than me, probably so, but regardless youre SUPER cool. like the punk rock hare of the punk rock club. despitw that, you're super kind and nice to talk to, and i want to make sure i get some more interaction action (/caseoh phrase) with you, because you're genuinely super friend coded. im sorry i didnt say much, but i hope its enough to at least make you smile, you definitely deserve it. thank you

@the-astropaws — 🥀🪶♥️🧸

prepare for trouble, and make it double... to the two QUEERS running this blog, you two are too kind to be real sometimes. i genuinely love the stuff made around these parts (the blog), and how you speak up about issues in the community with eloquence and well-put wording. i appreciate this blog and the two persons behind it; you two are super swell to be around. i still remember the purple theme and it makes me happy to remember that i remember the theme, becahse it means you two made your way into my head properly. thank you for your presence so much, its so stress-free to send an ask or talk to you, and i know we may not have interacted a whole lot but i appreciate your presences greatly. thank you so so so much for being around, and for your gentle words. thank you

@rabidbatboy — 🪰🩸🦴⛓️

alright... who's SLURRING it up around here? okay, anyways, your posts and creations have given me so much closure and happiness. and thats that. your roachgirl, muttgirl, roachdyke and gay flags are so good it makes me want to recite popular tiktok phrases like "DROP ANOTHER COINING POST, AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!!" or the like. your presence is INCREDIBLY strong and felt whenever you're around-- i can easily, immediately go "oh thats the fightclub guy! thats the uncledyke! ohhhh thats the punk ass dude from tumblr! oh hell yeah!" when i see you talking. and despite the fact you are a very strong figure, you're ironically really easy to talk to! i actually used to be very intimidated by and < Oh My God You Can Actually Kill Me If You Decide To Do So Please Spare This Bug> towards you, but noe you're just... fellow uncle. fellow dudebro. i feel very happy whenever i see you because it means youre out there rawdogging life, and that means i've got a chance too. i love your fight club references and your entire vibe, you are very positively what i can describe as "the type of person that makes me want to get competitive". but even with that, youre incredibly patient and generous (despite how people test your patience). thank you

@nqvo — 🦢🪞🌫🪷

my nephew. my sweet nephew. oh you absolute struggler, you NEED to make more terms that people will love instead of assets that people will steal. you get so rightfully pissed at the things ed*tblr has going on, and i think you would profit from a change of space, because holy hell does it hurt when i get close to editblr instead of coinblr. you're always so fucking angry and i'm HERE for it! i love listening to you complain and make the points you make, because SOMEHOW you're always correct about things, and it baffles me that your rage is contained despite the horrors you witness and endure. but aside from that, i treasure you as family and im so glad to know you and be able to share a GROUPCHAT with you. whenever i hear you talk of your interests and when you have the faggotry episodes, i feel very happy. your happiness is important to me, and i better fucking see you start being nicer and nicer and nicer and nicer to yourself. youre unbelievably well put together considering how much people push your buttons, sometimes i wish i could send meteors to the people bothering you, or that you give them a piece of your mind. but you and i know its not worth it, so i'll also be glad to hear what you have to say in the < melancholic rupture far deep into the sea >, amongst our friends. people like you a lot, son (/like a old dude talking to a young lad), and i hope you see that its all because you're YOU, not anything else. your bravery and your perseverance make me hope for better times, and i hope you can let yourself ask for help whenever you need it-- to me, or in general. your friends love you, and we all got you. thank you

@praysia — 🎧💠🎀🔌

tranny... faggot... dyke... slur-a-tron... my best friend in slurhood. the slurmaxxer. you are such a lovely friend and i love to hear your yap sessions, and i absolutely adore when you talk about your manmade horror yaois. i love slinging slurs at you and when you use the :pathetic: emoji. you are genuinely such a great friend and your presence makes me raise my arms into the air and go "THE SLURS ARE HERE!!!!". please never ever shut the fuck up or im gonna die miserably like a slug with salt on it. please never give up. youre very motivational to me because youve been through so many life-ending things and still you persist. i like to punch you and stuff haha cool dynamic, but i also genuinely appreciate when youre around. i may not know you all too well on the idyera iceberg, but i sure as hell appreciate you regardless. youre like if the phrase "man's best friend" was a person, because youre a stupid dog and one of the best friends i have, even if you havent unearthed your most horrifying life stories near me. i dont need you to, i just know youre my good friend fagalo. dearest fagoba seradykei mutual. i will hase you with hammers and hold you up into the air. thank you for being here to this day, you fucking liberal!!!!!! youre a joy to be around and i always smile when im near you. youre like a fountain of joy, despite being a mentally ill bitch; youre seriously a lovely person to be around, and i hope you feel like you can rely on me when you need help, even if youre more of a haf than me. thank you

@arachnwife — ⚙️🌈🔪🎉

you are so correct all the time it almost makes me angry (positively). i love seeing you in convos and i love the stuff you make, and im SOOO fucking happy you made a icon blog because ive been complaining about exclusionist icon makers for the past months, and youre like jesus christ coming back for making a icon blog without being a prick... i love conversations with you, and whenever i spot you its like the animal jam best guess game and im winning the spider questions. i also have a passing feeling, a slight suspicion that you might like ticci toby (just a mere impression HEHSHRHKRKTK). youre so chill its almost like eating ice cream and getting brainfreeze-- without the agony though, positively chilling. thank you for being around. i really really want to talk to you more so sometimes i show up and say something and pray for god to bestow a convo upon us. but i'll keep putting more effort into talking to you, because you are PAWESOME! very nice to be around you. keep up the good shtuff up dude, i really appreciate it. thank you

e

@icwdtea / @puriette-archived — 🐶🧣🍰🍁

OUPY!!!!! THATS OUPYYYY!!! THATS OOMPHIEEEE!!!! MY OOMPHIE OUPYYYY... THE MUSIC MISER!!!! you are the physical manifestation of the autumn season to me. i can layer clothes, get nice and cozy, feel the chill fresh breeze on my face, but never will i have to freeze, overheat, or be uncomfortable around you. you've gone and you go through so much, and it only ever seems to make you be kinder to defy bitterness-- and thats something big. something special, shiny, precious, and i think it perfectly represents you; youre warm like < three fluffy blankets > during a freezing winter night, a sweet and soft slice of cake with tons of chocolate involved (icing, filling, etc.), youre like a hug from a old friend you havent seen in forever. you, too, are like the word "man's best friend", much like our slurmaxxing canine friend; you are the peace after a horrible storm, you are the tbeautiful things in life, a smile exchanged between one and a stranger. you are the sweet melodies of music without vocals, the gentle humming of a loving familiar, the warm air around a fireplace. your kindness and your loveliness may be accompanied by rabid behavior, but that will never take away from your love-natured self. you are so many goof things i cannot say, and i hope you know it goes beyond just being perceived-- its something you are, and im grateful for you being around to this day. i hope we can talk more often. thank you

[aviradasa]

The lost boys main hcs

Marko

5th times the charm with trying to post this.tumblr hates me. This isn't proofread. Sorry it's short I'm tired as fuck and irritated. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless 🖤

Marko is an only child, and he grew up without a father. His mother was a seamstress and worked out of their home when he was a child. His mother was Italian, and his father was Swedish. When Marko was born, they were already living in the united states though so Marko had never been to either country, and he had never met any of his other family members. his dad died when he was 8, so he hardly remembers him now. His mother, on the other hand, died on his 16th birthday, falling victim to the san Francisco plague in 1904. Which was an epidemic of the black plague. He had to abandon her in their home to avoid catching it himself. Taking the last of the money they had and the necklace his mother wore with a picture of their family in it. Not long after, he found the boys, and they all stuck together (as you can guess), but not until after he struggled around town by himself for a few months. God, i need to stop making this shit sad hand on switching gears. He was the youngest when the boys got turned into vamps he had only turned 18 that summer He really tries to act more mature than he is, but as soon as something funny happens, that's over. Marko has a really good sense of humor, but he finds a lot of really stupid shit funny. He's the type of dude to watch his friends fall face down ass up on concrete and start laughing and snapping a photo before asking if they are ok (he is me) This also can lean into how he does lowkey bully people on the boardwalk. Mostly surf nazis but let's be so deadass he's kind of a dick to everyone there in his own special way. Him and paul have a tendency to double team people to: like whoever they come at wont have a chance to say anything cause as soon as one of them pauses the other jumps in to just dog on the person who annoyed them. Some of his insults get pretty creative as well: so if he says something to you thats just out of pocket,like 85% of the time its one of the ones that makes you stop to think about it before you can even get offended 🤣 Strange enough, though. He is very well spoken and charismatic when you talk to him normally. When talking, you notice after a while that he's not one of those folks that cuss every other sentence. Like he will throw it in there like everyone does, but not all the time if you feel me Idk how to describe it. he still talks like a normal person and uses slang and stuff, but he is oddly classy vocabulary wise. He's got a slightly softer tone to his voice as well, which makes his way of speaking come off smoother. He's also extremely smart. Having conversations with him is never really dull or unpleasant. (Unless you're an unlucky boardwalk asshole) Marko is very imaginative and creative. He never stops coming up with things. He hoards hobbies like a dragon hoard gold. From painting to sewing to cooking to wood carving, He just knows how to do this stuff, and he loves it. You will never catch him doing nothing. Even when he's spaced out at the wall, the dude is fiddling with something or sewing. Something together, he just can't stop. He loves giving gifts to friends as well. All of the boys have gifts from Marko that he's made himself. Mostly cause he loves showing off he has skill and unlike Paul he doesn't care if people touch his stuff so he will drag you around his space handing you stuff and showing you everything he's made/ collected cause he's just so proud. Just don't break it. He will be fucking pissed if You break it. Or if you give away anything he gifted you. Also he will talk to you about this stuff for hours on end if you let him (Do let him. He will love you for life if you show Intrests in the things he likes) his space is really cluttered. But looking around, it's mostly albums,art, fabric,patches, and various random objects.

other then that he's really clean. On that note He does not like getting covered in blood when he eats just sayin. He's like the least messy eater of the group mainly cause he hates getting it on his jacket. Plus the texture of dried blood on him makes him want to rip his skin off. It's just one of those things he can't stand So he makes sure to clean up fast. That doesn't mean he doesn't like toying with victims though he's a jumpscare master. He likes to scare his victims half to death before beating the shit outta them. He jokes that hes “tenderizing The meat”. When he does this He gets a kick outta that one. Oh he also likes music, he's not like overly into it though He likes alot of different types as well. Some of his favorite generas are Rock,goth,classical, and some 30s jazz strange enough. He does not give a DAMN what the others have to say about his music taste. if He wants to play his music it will be loud and proud. If they don't like it they are free To take it up with him. (They never will)

[exocynraku]

sorry if this is a bit strange to say but your style is so charming :] are there any specific inspirations you have? ALSO can i ask where you learned anatomy from? drawing cats has always been a pain for me and i’m wondering if you have any tips… and i hope you have a lovely day!!! love your works so much :]

thank you veery much.. warrior cats related? ursiday, lupiine, thunderc1an/rebe adventures, movdotmov, assignedk9, bunnyfarm and many popular warrior cats artists on youtube come to mind. otherwise, a lot of what I take inspiration from is manga. i didn't really learn it from anywhere persay, just practice. if you look at some of my first ever wc designs, i could definitely do better now LOL. i'd love to give you more specific tips but literally how i learn is just draw cats. i drew almost all day every day in early covid days when i wasn't in school, and did like, 10 designs a day. ( i wouldn't recommend doing this though, cause now i have Wrist Pain <3 ). so my best advice to you is just draw cats. i never had a problem with seeing my art as 'bad' because in the beginning i was horrendously egotistical and though whatever my current artstyle at the time was was absolutely peak, but i know a lot of people do, so you really need to push yourself forward. even if you see problems in your art now, you have to keep drawing to rectify them. you could study a hundred art books and go to dozens of dozens of classes and look at tons of tutorials but if you don't actually DRAW anything, you aren't going to learn. if you're experiencing artblock, draw something you like which is easy for you (i usually draw my fursona). etc. the minimal amount of tips i CAN give you is to trace. not in like a post-it-online-claiming-its-yours sort of way, but find an artist you like and trace their pieces. specifically, trace the things you like from them, like the paws or face. i do this not often i would say but enough it's able to help me, plus it usually gets me out of ruts where i don't like certain parts of my art. also, real pictures. i'd say this helps more for things like understanding cat anatomy vs how to stylize it. for resources, i'll give you this and this. i can also say, if you're not liking your art, it might be the brush you're using. change it up, i have TONS downloaded and will spend literally hours finding and editing one to what i like. also, get rid of any idea of an "artstyle". you may develop something concrete eventually, but don't stick yourself to a box in the beginning. also, KEEP EVERYTHING. going back and looking at my old designs and art is extremely entertaining, and it can show you how much you're improved over time. tldr: just draw. it's how i learned. a couple other things, but 90% of it is literally just keep drawing.

[theinternetarchive]

have you any book recommendations

many! i like a lot of genres so here is a quick overview of my favorites. it really depends what you're looking for. i'll do a little summary of each book.

theory/philosophy

psychoanalytic film theory and the rules of the game by todd mcgowan – this is the ultimate beginner's guide to contemporary film theory. it will teach you the basics of lacanian psychoanalysis in easy terms and with real life explanations/examples. if you want to learn film theory, and you don't know where to start, absolutely start right here. you will not regret it

civilization and its discontents by freud – yes i am recommending this entirely seriously and in earnest. this book is great. freud, dying of cancer and disillusioned with the world, outlines the problems with contemporary society, namely his distaste for the way that technological progress has not been made in the name of human happiness, and in fact works against man's best interest, creating all the problems it claims to solve. relevant now more than ever.

nonfiction

bird by bird by anne lamott – this book is as much a writer's guide as it is a memoir as it is a how-to for life. lamott is witty and real, she's honest and somber and funny, she gives excellent advice, advice that has gotten me out of the depths several times. "perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. it will keep you cramped and insane your whole life."

novels

moby dick by herman melville – this may seem a strange rec as it's a classic that everyone knows, but not enough people put their time into moby dick. it's long winded, flourishing prose that i really never tire of. he makes some of the most poignant observations during the most insignificant of moments, this book is rich with philosophical meaning and absolutely must be read at some time in your life. it will make you reflect on life and death, mortality, love. also there's technically gay marriage in this book and it's from the 1860s.

the price of salt/carol by patricia highsmith – i'm sure many of you are familiar with the film and also know that it's a book, but i don't think many have read it and i must say, it is phenomenal. absolutely thrilling. a love story for the ages.

rebecca by daphne du maurier – everyone know the hitchcock film, but the book is better. hitchcock didn't even really respect rebecca, the novel or the film, but i think both are masterpieces. rebecca, the novel, is interior and dark. it is like the movie, but in my opinion it's more visceral, the writing is just so particular, i can't really put a word to it other than beautiful, even if that sounds like i'm simplifying a bit.

poetry

the complete works of arthur rimbaud tr. paul schmidt – the best rimbaud translation you can possibly get your hands on, all poems ordered chronologically along with letters and short biographical sections, giving you a real picture of rimbaud and his life. he is my favorite poet by miles, marrying the obscene, disgusting, perverse, and the beautiful to create revolutionary poetry. he is such a singular writer with such a particular voice, and schmidt perfectly captures his manic, confusing energy and tendency towards violence.

the selected poetry of ranier maria rilke – rilke is phenomenal, read his work, it is a must. this volume blows me away whenever i open it. i found myself enamored with rilke's work after reading the duino elegies (featured in this collection), and he never disappoints. there is something present and real about every poem i've read. he just had the way.

new and selected poems volume one by mary oliver – mary oliver needs no introduction, but this is my favorite volume of hers. if you're unfamiliar or just haven't read her yet and you want to start somewhere, it should be here.

[ilysungho]

hi again! 🍓 here :) to start, ofc I have compliments for your writing! I love your ideas and how you capture the members, esp bc you portray them as both sub and dom so well!

speaking of, dom myungjae will be the death of me I swear 🫠. I think him being so usually-sweet adds to his appeal as a dom bc its fun to think only you can bring out that side of him yknow? also, lovee the finger sucking inclusion! and writing mine on your dress with his cum?! crazy hot n so jae-coded since we know he's quite possessive 🤭

i think he'd take enough photos to fill a gallery. he'd pose you, making you arch or open your mouth, even sliding back into the mess he made for one. but once he's done with his art project maybe he'd finally take pity on you... pushes your dress up now and dives in to eat you out like he's starving (munch jaehyun real)

- 🍓

oh you're so sweet love :( thank you so much for your compliments, it really does make me happy to know what you think about what i've written thus far. i can only hope that it gets better as time goes on. part of why i'm able to write as well as i do is because of my anons who send in so many amazing and creative asks so i'd like to thank you all for helping me! i love you guys so much <33

dom!myungjae is just a lover to you. he'd treat you so much sweeter than he treats anyone else. if he's as loving as he is now, he'd be a 100 times so with the love of his life. he's so incredibly loving of you, and that makes him so possessive of you too. he acts out when he sees anyone even looking in your direction. he has to let them know that you're taken and very much his, which leads him to being very into pda in any sense possible. but i digress!

he most definitely has a folder full of pictures he's taken of you while having sex. he wouldn't go around showing them to anyone because they're for his eyes only, but he would boast about how he is able to always make you feel so good. during times where he is so horny, he'd love having a photoshoot with you, taking pictures in all the positions and ways you described. his constant praise would have you so much needier, begging him to fuck your needy hole. "now darling, be patient. i'm trying to take some pictures of my sweetheart here." he'd say as he continuously clicks pictures of your body. eventually, after he's done, he would finally sink down to your cunt, exposing it after lifting your dress, exclaiming at how you're oozing out all your slick for him. he'd be so playfully teasing about it, asking you how long you've been this wet for, whether you were this wet during the event too. he'd have so much fun teasing you until you pull his face straight into your pussy, grinding against his smirking lips. and he gladly shuts up to eat you out properly as a reward. the dress is completely unusable once you take it off of you, but he would keep in mind to buy you more dresses like the one you have on currently.

[deans-baby-momma]

Chapter 5

Summary: When Jensen admits to going home with someone else, will his and Y/N's marriage survive?

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, smut, language

Y/N rushes out of the bistro, feeling as though she is going to puke. After hearing Athena's side of the story, and knowing the timeline Cliff had given her, it was absolutely possible that her husband was lying after all!

She drives home through the tears blurring her vision and sliding down her face. She can't believe that he would do something like that to her - to them.

But drunk Jensen, or Nesnej, as Jared Jokingly refers to him as when he's drunk, could. And it sounds like Nesnej was in control.

Y/N stumbles into the house and kicks off her shoes before throwing her purse through the room.

“Ugh!” she screams as the sobs come harder. “Lying piece of fucking shit!”

She throws herself on the sofa and lets the sobs take over her.

It is coming up on dusk when Y/N finally pulls herself together enough to get up. The sound of her phone ringing makes her look at the contents of her purse across the floor.

She can see from her spot that it's her husband calling. She lets it ring through to voicemail.

Jensen hangs up his phone and slips it back in his pocket. It wasn't like Y/N to not answer his calls, but maybe she's just busy, he thinks to himself.

He steps out of his trailer, locking the door before heading to join Cliff and Jared and heads home for the weekend.

Cliff drops Jared off first before heading to the house Jensen shares with Y/N. The ride is quiet, except for the podcast that Cliff Is listening to.

“Thanks man,” Jensen speaks up from the backseat of the SUV. “For having my back with Y/N.”

Cliff grunts. “I just told her what I knew.”

“I appreciate it,” the actor replies. “It could've been a lot worse if you hadn't covered for me.”

Cliff hums in response before he goes back to listening to the radio.

Once they pull into the driveway, Jensen becomes worried seeing the house dark, no lights on inside but Y/N's car parked right in front.

“See ya Monday,” Jensen says, exiting the backseat.

Walking inside, the first thing he does is turn the lamp on. He surveys the chaos in confusion. Y/N's purse is on the ground with its contents spilling out across the floor.

He sees her phone laying face down on the floor and picks it up to see the screen shattered, the picture of the both of them fractured into sections.

Jensen begins to worry that maybe they'd been broken into and the burglar had taken her for a ransom.

He looks around for more clues as he hastens forward to the kitchen. There he finds cabinets and drawers open, much like someone had been going through their personal space, looking for something. But what?

He hears a noise coming from the back of the house and he turns slowly, silently heading to the pantry to retrieve the aluminum baseball bat he left there.

Once the weapon is in his grip, he tightens his hold as he proceeds toward the sound.

The closer he gets to their shared bedroom, the better he can make out what he's hearing.

Y/N's crying. He stops and sets the bat down, going to enter the room but when he turns the knob, he is stopped. It's locked.

“Baby? Are you okay?”

“Go away?” She yells but it's muffled.

“What's wrong? Y/N?” Jensen inquires as he put his ear to the door but the barrier is pulled away as she flings it open.

Standing there, her eyes red and puffy with her face full of dried tear tracks and new ones falling breaks his heart.

“You lied!” she spat. “You told me you didn't fuck her but there's a baby in her. An Ackles baby!”

“Baby, I told you. I didn't fu- Y/N I thought you believed me? Jared and Cliff even backed me up.”

“Or they lied for you! You probably gave them all the juicy details about fucking a young girl and then asked them to cover for you.”

Jensen stood there in shock. He thought they had gotten through this, that Y/N believed him and was on his side.

“There was no juicy det-” he begins and then pauses with a sigh. “-How many times do I have to tell you that you're the only one for me? What brought this on?” He asked gently, trying to calm her down.

“I saw her today. Athena. She and a group of her friends came into Sylvie's. She was bragging about it. And had some very accurate descriptions for someone who had supposedly never been with you.”

“Y/N, I swear.” Jensen said, pleading. “I've only been with you.”

“Somehow, I don't believe you’” Y/N cries before turning back to the bed, where her suitcase lays open, half packed. “I'm going to Candy's for a few days. I can't be around you right now.”

Jensen seethes as he stands in the doorway. “Fine! You don't believe that I didn't fuck her? You want to think I'd throw all of this away for a cheap piece of ass? Go ahead. I am done trying to prove to you that I've been loyal since we began dating.”

He storms down the hallway and out the backdoor where he flops down on one of the Adirondack chairs overlooking the natural landscape of the territory.

He reaches into the waterproof chest and pulls out the pack of cigarettes and lighter he had stored in there.

Jensen only ever partakes of this habit when he's either really drunk -like really drunk- or when he's wound up.

He inhales and slowly blows the puff of smoke through his lips. He sits there trying to contemplate how to get through to Y/N.

His wife, his biggest supporter and best friend; the person who is supposed to have his back and stand by him is in doubt about him.

He leans back and looks up at the darkening Vancouver sky as he wishes he could go back and change everything about that night.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Whatever she said had all three of them turning to look my way.

Preview for next chapter: Walking toward her, I could tell when she realized I was heading her way. Her eyes widened and she turned to her friends, a big smile on her face.

"Hi. I'm Jensen.”

“I know who you are,” she told me, suddenly confident. “I have been a fan for years. I actually have a Radio Company album at home. Was hoping to get a signed copy but wasn't one of the lucky ones.”

“Well that just won't do,” I said to her with a smile. “Do you live far from here?”

“Close enough.”

Tagging: @spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam   @ironreviewangel @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @supraveng @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @purpleeclipseeggsland @kmc1989 @leigh70 @nancymcl @muhahaha303 @justwhisperingfantasies @jackles010378 @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deanna45 @ozwriterchick @mandee73 @spnaquakindgdom @impala67rollingthroughtown @generalmoonpolice @1313diana @roseblue373 @palerogue1 @deansimpalababy @queen-cs

[drachenkinder]

The Black Sabbath Incident

So back in the Dark Ages, aka the Seventies. I was around 15 and went to my very first rock concert. Black Sabbath. I was going with my boyfriend of the time and his friend, who had stood in line all night to buy tickets. (Aisle seats, thirteenth rows back from the stage.)

Needless to say said friend, who I will call John from now on, was a huge fan of Black Sabbath. He was also a huge guy, about 6'3" and though only 16 he had a full beard and was covered with more body hair then any man I have seen before or since.

John was determined to film part of the concert. A thing forbidden by the concert people. You weren't even allowed to take pictures. Now remember, there are no cell phones, no digital cameras and the smallest still camera was still too big to hide in your pocket. You had to open your coat or jacket and do a 360 turn as the security people checked you out, before they let you in. Any cameras found were confiscated. However John also like to build model rockets and launch them up into the atmosphere. He'd bought a motion picture camera just for the purpose of filming in flight.

This bad boy. About two inches in diameter and 8 inches long without the nose cone. True it could only take 20 seconds of slightly out of focus film, but it was better then nothing. He had this beast in his coat pocket as we entered the lobby, but on seeing the security people going though coats and jackets he slips it into the front of his whitey-tighties.

The boyfriend and I go through the quick visual search, and turn around to see if John is going to make it past the security woman or get hauled out of line.

Now remember this was the nineteen seventies and tight jeans were de rigueur for teens. John spreads open his coat to get the looking over. The previously bored woman looks down and is confronted with this massive bulge in the front of this huge bearded teenage boy's pants. As if that wasn't bad enough, the camera suddenly turns on and it starts shifting in his underwear making whirring-clicking noises like a steam punk prosthetic penis getting ready for action. She stares frozen in horror at this apparition as it wags back and forth taking what would be A very bad, 20 second X-Rated movie, if there had been any light to expose the film. John is also frozen, wearing the frantic manic grin of man whose pubic hair has been caught in very small machinery and is slowly, but inexorably being pulled out. The camera, having run its full twenty seconds shuts down. The cessation of movement and sound breaks the security woman out of her shock. "Go! Get out of here!" she squeaks, waving John through.

He hobbles painfully past and into the brightly arena arena while the boyfriend and I stagger after him, weaving down the aisle and laughing like a pair of drunken hyenas. Thirtyseven rows later we arrive at our choice seats. John valiantly attempts to fit his 6'3" frame into the narrow seat without bending at the hips, with limited success. He stays stretched out stiff legged, protected on either side by his evil compatriots who take this opportunity to congratulate him on his cinematic masterpiece, while coming up with reviews and advertising blurbs for its eminent debut.

Too shy and embarrassed to reach down his pants and free his pubes, John sits with a grimace of pain on his face until the lights finally go down for the opening band. Under the cover of his coat, it takes him two songs before he is able to extract the camera with a minimum of hair loss and shove it back in his pocket. His grandkids have been told the story by some vile and treacherous person who I will refrain from naming, and I have hopes they will pass "The Black Sabbath Incident" on to their children and grandchildren until it becomes a family legend, possibly outlasting the fame of the band itself. Ozzy Osbourne would be proud.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

https://www.tumblr.com/allthisscienceidontunderstand/774504308472479744/live-action-lady-and-the-tramp-but-its-actually

Ace being backstage on the shooting of these cause willy asked her to bring the dogs and she takes the baby and willy takes a picture with him that never gets published 😮‍💨

Also reminds me to ask: do they post him on their social media? Show his face etc or just back shots? - 🎀

first of all, bestie, the noise i let out when i saw these pictures was not ladylike WHATSOEVER

second of all, i LOVE the idea that ace and gunnar were there too!! 🥰

so i think at first, ace is like not into the idea of coming along. she’s only two months postpartum, still feeling weird in her body, doesn’t want the attention that going along with william will bring. but he asked if she’d bring the dogs later in the shoot so they’re not there for the whole time acting up

he’s like “oh no, it’s a closed thing. we’re going when sugo’s closed for the day and if you come along, you’ll get whatever you want off the menu”

the lure of your favorite italian food is what convinces her. so after william’s been at the restaurant for a couple of hours, ace makes sure gunnar is fed and dressed up a little, gets herself dressed up nicely too - makeup, fixes her hair, changes out of the casual loungewear that’s been her staple

the dogs are clipped onto their leashes because ace already has enough on her plate with gunnar in the stroller and she doesn’t need them possibly running off even though they’re very well trained

william is thrilled to see her and the baby and the dogs, greets her with a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek. and he looks so handsome in his purplish-pink suit, smells so good, and ace is just a girl who’s halfway in love with her baby daddy

gunnar’s wide awake as soon as he hear’s william’s voice, gurgling and kicking his feet until william rubs a hand over his stomach and kisses the baby’s head too, “sorry, little cakester, can’t pick you up right now just in case you decide to give us an explosion again”

gunnar coos in a way that ace is pretty sure means he knows exactly what he’s doing with the diaper blowouts

she settles in in the carrier while william finishes the shoot with the dogs, bouncing him in her arms and pointing at william, “look, it’s daddy and your puppies. isn’t that so fun?”

and the dogs come to her side too, when they’re bored of posing, scratching at her legs and nosing at gunnar’s socked feet. banksy nips at a sock and tugs it off the baby’s foot, delivering it to william, who laughs and tucks it in his pocket

when things are winding down, william comes to take gunnar, cuddling him close and bouncing him in his arms like a football. the baby grabs at the lapels on william’s suit, chewing on his other fist

they’re adorable together and ace takes a few photos on her phone, sending them to the nylander family group chat that she’s been part of since the summer. everyone blows up her phone with messages on how cute gunnar is

william asks the photographer if he can take a few family photos and ace objects - “no no, i’m not really dressed for it” - but william insists and before she knows it, ace is sitting at the table too, the dogs surrounding her legs while william has gunnar on his lap

there’s a few different shots, including one of ace hovering over william’s shoulder with a napkin after gunnar spit up on the shoulder of his suit. william’s laughing and ace is cringing and gunnar just looks delighted to be there

they get the photos after the shoot, when the ones of william and the dogs are posted on social media and ace can’t get over how good they look. they really look like a perfect little family and it makes her all misty

the photographer even took a few candids of them, william looking at her and gunnar with a soft expression on his face, william grinning broadly at gunnar, ace’s eyes all crinkled up as she watches them 🥹

as for gunnar on social media - i’ll do more of a deep dive, but they generally don’t post him on socials at all for a few months and if they do, it’s just a hand or a foot or a blurry shot, his face is never seen in photos that any of the nylanders post

when he’s a little older, they’re both more chill about posting pictures of the family, also because william and ace are together at that point and the relationship and baby are like toronto’s worst kept secret

they still don’t really post too much of his full face, just for privacy reasons, which is also part of the reason william never says anything publicly about the pregnancy or their relationship 🤍