#but just know i am Going Through IT right now

[ellecdc]

no fondling in the dog house

Sirius Black x fem!reader who has to pick him up from the kennel [1.1k words]

CW: talk about fondling bollocks, a police station, Sirius being the least serious person, a good humoured argument between partners, threats of neutering/castration

“Now, ma’am, you are aware that under the highway code, dogs must be kept on a lead?”

“Yes sir.” You offered as earnestly as you could, though you couldn’t help the indignance that coloured your voice at the fact that you were the one being scolded for this misdemeanour right now. 

“And that they must be accompanied by their owner.” The enforcement officer continued, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow at you for your insolence. 

“Of course; I really am sorry, sir.” You offered more sincerely; you were really very sorry that you were here at all. 

“They’re also meant to be microchipped by the time they are 8-weeks old.” He continued, sifting through the numerous documents you signed after proving that the large black dog that had been picked up by muggle animal control did, indeed, belong to you. 

“Oh, he’s going to be microchipped alright.” You grumbled, adding a quiet “gonna look at having him neutered, too” under your breath. 

The officer ignored you as he called to his coworker to bring the stray out. 

“What did you say his name was again?”

But before you had a chance to answer, his coworker let out a surprised ‘oof’ when you heard the sound of paws galloping down the kennel hall before a large, long-haired black dog came barrelling through the doorway and sat excitedly at your feet.

“Padfoot.” You offered reproachfully, both in answer to the enforcement officer you just spent the past forty minutes being chastised by and in greeting to your boyfriend who was officially in the dog house. 

Padfoot offered you a bark back in response; the enforcement officer still seemed rather displeased with the both of you, but the kennel attendant let out a pleased laugh at the exchange. 

“What the fuck?” You asked the dog, to which he responded by nuzzling against your hand with his snout. You gently shoved it away from you. 

“He’s really quite a well behaved dog.” The attendant offered, either missing the disbelieving and reproving looks from both you and the enforcement officer respectively, or choosing to ignore them. “Usually strays are all stressy and anxious, but he sat patiently during intake and followed me right to the kennel without any hesitation.”

Padfoot looked between you and the attendant as if saying “did you hear that? I was good!” whilst you and the officer both stared at them a little bit longer before you ultimately broke the silence. “Yeah,” you deadpanned, “I’m sure he was a real treat.” 

“Don’t forget to invest in a tag for him.” The officer called as you slid a collar and lead onto Padfoot.

“Will do, officer. I really am sorry for all of this. I swear, it will not happen again.” 

Seemingly appeased, he waived you off, and you and Padfoot exited the police station. 

You dropped the lead and let Padfoot drag it himself as you turned down the alleyway - nearly snapping your wand with the force you used to tap the enchantment that brought you back to the magical side of London - and stepped right into Diagon Alley. 

“Baby-”

“Oh don’t you baby me, Sirius.” You hissed as you turned on your heel to glower at your boyfriend; you watched his cupid’s bow flatten as he folded his lips over his teeth in an attempt to keep from laughing, though you were pleased that the furrowing of his brows and the fact that he was wringing the collar and lead between his hands let you know he was at least somewhat contrite. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me?”

“Uhm, I think it was a little bit more embarrassing for me, doll. The intake form asked if I was altered or not, which ultimately saw that attendant fondling my bollocks.”

“Oh, and I’m sure you hated that.” You spat as you turned on your heel, fighting against the smile that threatened to take over your face at Sirius’ bark of laughter. 

“Baby, I’m sorry. You know you’re the only one I like fondling my bollocks.” He laughed as he jogged to catch up to you.

“Yeah well, it won’t be happening any time soon, I can tell you that much for free.” 

“Oh come now.” 

“What were you even doing!?” You asked then, stopping in the spot and nearly causing Sirius to collide with you. 

“I may have said something to James, Remus, and Pete about how stags love Padfoot, and they argued that Prongs didn’t exactly count as a stag, so I wanted to prove them wrong.”

“They dared you, didn’t they?” You surmised, hearing Sirius’ half truth for what it was.

“It wasn’t so much of a dare as it was a scientific experiment-”

“Sirius.”

“Okay! Okay, yes, they dared me. So, I figured I’d head over to Richmond Park and befriend myself a stag. I would have, too! If that fuckin’ auror hadn’t gone and foiled my plan.”

“They’re called officers, Sirius.” You corrected darkly. “You were caught by muggle officers.” 

“Why do you think you had to pick me up!?” Sirius exclaimed then. “I couldn’t very well turn back into myself and explain the situation away. And you know I’m pants at obliviation.” 

“Shame.” you huffed as you carried on towards Gringotts. “I was hoping you could obliviate this entire memory for me.”

“I would, too. Better than being stuck in the dog house.” Sirius muttered, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “Where are we going?”

“The bank.”

“Why?” 

You halted in your quest again, this time causing Sirius to trip in his attempt to avoid slamming into you. “You owe me - I had to bail you out, Sirius! They charged me fines; I have a record now.” 

“Completely fair, doll. I’ll be right back.” He agreed, pressing a kiss to your cheek that had you pretending to shove him away before he started towards the bank. 

“And take out enough to buy yourself a collar and a tag with my contact information on it!” You shouted, pausing before you added “And enough for ice cream!”

“Consider it done, babe. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” you called as you started walking towards Flourish and Blotts, “you’re getting microchipped.”

You didn’t need to turn around to know that Sirius was looking at you quizzically. “What’s a microchip?” He called as you kept walking. “Babe? Oi, babe! What’s a microchip!?”

[luvyeni]

( drabble ) intoxicated ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 방찬 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ chan comes home drunk with only one thing on his mindヾ

boyfriend!chan・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ sex under the influence, unprotected sex, breeding kink, pregnancy talk wc ・ ‎0.8k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. can you make one of Bangchan? please, he is drunk and horny after a party and he is obsessed with getting her pregnant ?

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i loved writing this idk why i hope you like it <3

looking at the clock it was way past midnight when you heard the door open. “baby!” you heard your boyfriends slurred voice. “baby where are you!” you shook your head — shrieking when he came bursting through the door. “baby!” he yelled out. “hi baby!” you laughed at how drunk he was. “hi chan.”

“hi baby.” he smiled, face flushed as he stumbled over his own feet. “not that drunk i swear.” he said, but his actions said otherwise. “i missed you so much.” he kicked his shoes off; unbuckling his pants. “wished you would’ve came out tonight.” taking his shirt off, tossing it. “it was fun.” he clumsily climbed into bed, falling flat on top of you. “bang christopher chan!” you yelled, slapping his bare back. “get off you are heavy.”

“why.” he whined , wrapping his arms around you. “why are you being so mean?” his face pressed against your stomach. “i love you so much and you’re being so mean.” his eyes closed, you shook your head, thinking he was going to fall asleep. “chan let’s lay down now.” you tapped his cheek. “come on baby.”

it was silent; you thought he had actually fallen asleep — that was until you felt his hands lifting up your shirt. “channie what are you doing?” he hummed. “just wanna feel my girl.” he rubbed all along your waist. “you smell nice.” you chuckled. “it’s your body wash.” you ran your fingers through his hair. “i know, but im talking about your natural scent, smell so sweet.” he kissed your bare stomach. “ch-chan.” you warned.

“what?” he said softly, slurring his words. “let’s lay down.” you said, trying to get him to sleep, even though he was slowly turning you on. “o-okay.” he said, before sitting up, quickly pulling you down, your head hitting the pillow. “let’s lay down.” he kissed your neck. “ch-chan you’re intoxicated, we’re not having sex tonight.” he whined against your ear. “you’re not taking advantage of me , i know you feel how much i want you right now.” he took your hand, running it down his abs, down past his waist. “see.” he groaned, placing it on his cock.

“ye-yeah but you’re still not in your right mind.” you didn’t want to egg him on, but he wasn’t having it. “im well in my right mind to know how much i want to put a baby right here.” he pointed to your stomach. “wanna fuck you so full that it has no choice but to stick.” the air was too thick, you could still smell the alcohol on his breath. “let me finally put a baby in you.” his hand working into your panties. “chris.” you moaned. “see you’re so wet, you want this, you want to be fucked full of my babies.” he groaned. “let me do that.” his fingers slipped into your dripping cunt. “gonna get you pregnant tonight.”

chan was insatiable when he was sober, but it was nothing compared to when he was drunk. you were on your 4th orgasm, chan on his second; the clock beside you was almost at 2:30 am, but he didn’t plan on stopping — determined to have you swollen with his kid by the end of the night. “fu-fuck baby.” he groaned, his hips snapping against yours. “fuck i love this sweet pussy so much.” he groaned, his face flushed. “chan.” you moaned out. “so fucking tight , taking my fat cock like the good girl you are.”

he was pinning you to the bed as he plowed into you. the squelching noises from your previous orgasms filling up the room. “fuck you hear that baby -fuck- you pretty pussy is talking to me.” he huffed. “she wants to be bred so bad , she crying for my cock.” his necklace dangling in front of you. “you wanna cum for me?” you nodded dumbly, you were now intoxicated but not like alcohol, but his cock, you sobbed out. “so bad.”

“cum for me.” he whispered in your ear. “fuck chan!” you screamed out, you sweet juices spraying all over his abdomen. “ye-yes fuck baby.” he groaned. “fuck cum all over me.” he continued you to fuck you. “that’s it -fuck- fuck me im gonna cum again.” he moaned, cock twitching as his filled you up for the third time that night. “fuck im gonna breed you , fill you with my seed, give you a pretty baby.” he groaned. “fuck i love you so much.”

feeling his warm cum pouring inside you, he sighed falling against you, your bodies sticking together. “chan , channie get up we have to clean ourselves.” you could feel his heart beating as he softly snored on top of you. you ran your fingers through his sweaty wet hair. “told you , you were tired.” you kissed the top of his head. “you big goof, you know you can’t hold your alcohol.” he wrapped his arms around you , holding you close. “sleep now.” you chuckled. “fine.” you said, finally drifting off to sleep.

almost a week later the two of you were standing over the sink in your bathroom , a positive pregnancy test sitting right in front of you.

©️LUVYENI

[yvesntul]

vi x reader’s first time together

18+ minors dni, fingering, intimate sex, fem receiving, oral sex, teasing, squirting, vi in love durr

‘ i can’t believe i get to touch you like this, ‘ you close your eyes feeling vi’s lips press against you, just above your pussy, too easily flustered to even look at her, ‘ you’re so fucking beautiful.. ‘ she commented, her lashes bat in a daze, a breathy laugh leaving your lips in attempt to brush it off, she knew you could never take her compliments serious out of getting nervous, but this was different, this was intimate, you both knew that. this was the farthest you both had gone in your relationship and she wanted to do whatever was possible to reassure you it was all okay. she sees your hips squirm under her contact, you were so worked up, such an easy button to push.

‘ vi, you’re teasing .. ‘

‘ mmm, am i ? or are you too nervous to tell me what you want ? ‘ her pixelated eyes hold a menacing glare with yours, but you’re too busy trying to fix your gaze upon anything other than her. the way she was taunting you during your first time with her was sickening, stimulatingly sickening. ‘ i- i don’t know, i want you, just do something already, please. ‘ she huffs a laugh, wasting no more time diving in. vi starts off with a tongue lick to your cunt, slowly licking her way up to your clit before wrapping both lips around the swollen area. your hands run through her hair. the vibrations of her working making you pull and scratch, causing her to grumble against you with pleasure.

‘ baby oh my god t-that feels so fuckin’ g-good- ohh! ‘ your hips move in sync with her mouth, rubbing your cunt against her face as she follows your path, ‘ all this time i didn’t have a taste of you, ‘ she mumbles and yet you’re already losing it, beginning to lose your patience along with your sanity. she was slurping, kissing, licking and penetrating your pussy with her tongue and she had no remorse while doing so. the lewd sounds from your mouth motivating her, pushing her to do so like it was her last breath here. her tongue continued to work as she sucked on what was almost driving you to the edge. ‘ don’t stop— ‘

‘ god, fucking love the sound of your voice right now, ‘ and that’s when vi slips 2 fingers in without warning, and to be honest, there was no need to. if anything, you needed to be warning her for the messy orgasm you were tiptoeing around. ‘ you’re close aren’t you ? i feel it. ‘ she quizzed and you frantically nodded, your breathing getting heavy. she admired you from her point at the end of the bed. her silence catching your attention as she worked her fingers into you. ‘ stop looking at me like that, ‘ you spoke before she smiled. ‘ i can’t look at my girlfriend ? ‘ ‘ no ! ‘

she laughed at how you tensed, her fingers thrusting into your gummy walls along with the impact from the tip of her tongue flicking against your clit — creating the perfect combination for nothing but pure bliss, ‘ i can feel you angel, just let go for me. give me all of it ..’ her words of encouragement were doing its damn thing, the knot in your belly starting to untie itself on vi’s behalf. your body begins to convulse, this moment felt like more than everything to you, especially to vi, hoping she’d be able to show you her love in every way she’s been wanting, with this only being the beginning.

‘ b-baby .. vi … i’m so close– oh my god .. ‘ she quickly intertwined her hand in yours as you squeeze her knuckles for support through your orgasm. you were too busy making the flesh on her hand turn pale from how hard you were holding on to notice how reactive you verbally were, vi loved every sound coming out of you though. it was a beautiful side of you she had never seen. ‘ i’ve got you babe, let go just like that. ‘ as she says this, you start to panic when you feel the certain pressure below you.

her finger is still working your hole, not pulling away for anything or anyone — not even you. vi sees your small hands trying to pry her own away, but she simply stops you by restraining the same hand pushing her. ‘ wait vi— this feels so different, please, oh my .. ‘ you babble but she didn’t care because she knew what was about to come. ‘ i know, baby. i know. ‘ she holds eye contact with you, feeling your walls begin to tighten around her fingers yet again. that’s when she moves faster, jabbing her finger in and smoothly adding another to completely rupture you. her hand was cramping, but she could take that on any day if it meant she’d be able to see you fall apart.

‘ you’re there. you’re right there, you feel that ? ‘ vi’s question not only earns a loud whine from you, but it finishes you off completely. ‘ holy shit i’m fucking c-cumming vi, oh fuck—” you felt couldn’t even pronounce a single word. the only thing you could begin to make out was her name, and even then, it was just hoarse whines. you don’t see it, but she does. she sees it all — the spurts of your cum soaking her hand, drenching the covers, the way your chest rose and fell with each unsteady breath, your eyes looking into the back of your skull with your lips parted softly as she slowly dragged her fingers out of your walls.

you were fucking breathtaking, she couldn’t believe you were hers.

‘ you did so good, you’re the most beautiful girl ever i swear. ‘ she huffs as you smile at her, you lightly grabbed her face with one hand, bringing her into a long kiss. she uses the weight of one elbow to lean over and place kisses onto your temple. your body is still coming down from its peak, and your vision was still foggy — but you still needed her. you still craved her touch like you had a sweet tooth. ‘ you okay ? didn’t hurt you did i ? ‘ ‘ no no, not at all, vi, i just wan’ more .. ‘ your pleading eyes search for her lips, and once you find them, you inch closer. vi seals it for you, pressing her plumped ones onto your own. you feel the same fingers that were inside you creep up to your chin, then lips — trails of your wet essence lingering on your skin.

‘ are you sure ? ‘

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐘𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐋 | all rights reserved — do not modify, copy, or plagiarize any of my works.

[littlespoonevan]

your hand in my pocket to keep us both warm

post 8x08 because i'm SAD in a way that can only be eased with buddie hurt/comfort 💔 title from abstract (psychopomp) by hozier

-

Buck is the one to drive him to the airport because who else would it be?

It feels a lot like deja vu as he approaches the glass doors of Departures but his step only falters for a moment before Eddie’s hand is catching his sleeve at the elbow and leading him through them. It’s further than Abby ever let him get.

Eddie lets him go as far the security line and he almost looks regretful when he turns to face Buck.

Buck would like to think he’s handled this well so far. He’s been supportive, helped Eddie choose his new home, listened to his fears about his parents, reassured him about Christopher, promised to oversee the shipping of the rest of Eddie’s stuff next week. He’s done everything right.

It hasn’t made any of this feel less wrong.

They look at each other now, awkward in a way they never are, until Eddie drops his bag and pulls him into a hug without saying anything.

Maybe because there’s nothing to say. Buck’s heart has been lodged in his throat since he parked the car; he’s not even sure he could say anything if he wanted to.

Eddie’s arms around him are a familiar weight though so Buck allows himself to sink into them. To tuck his chin into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder and to fist his hands in the back of his jacket like if he holds on tight enough he might be able to convince Eddie to stay.

When Eddie does pull back he makes no attempt to leave the circle of Buck’s arms. Instead one of his hands goes to that same spot at the juncture of Buck’s neck – always the same spot – and when his thumb makes contact with the divot in Buck’s throat he seeks out Buck’s gaze.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Buck croaks, the tell-tale burn behind his eyes becoming more pronounced by the second.

“Like I’m Abby,” Eddie sighs. “Or Ali. Or Tommy. I’m not leaving you, Buck.”

Buck tries to laugh but it comes out too hysterical and Eddie’s hand tightens on his neck.

“I’m leaving,” he allows. “But I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you,” Buck says, the words wobbling in the middle. His hands are still twisted in Eddie’s jacket.

“And you think I do?” Eddie asks with a half-laugh. “Who am I gonna talk to when my folks are driving me crazy? Who am I gonna talk to when I do anything? Besides, you think Chris will accept you not visiting at least once a month?”

Truthfully, Buck has no idea what Chris wants right now but he clings to Eddie’s words anyway.

“Everyone at work is gonna find me insufferable. It was bad enough that last time you weren’t there.”

Eddie laughs again, thumb brushing Buck’s neck seemingly absentmindedly. “No they won’t. And I’ll be on Facetime so much it’ll be like I never left.”

Buck ducks his head but nods anyway, gathering up the courage to say what he wants to say next. “I know you have to go,” he starts, steeling himself as he makes himself meet Eddie’s gaze. “But please don’t go forever.”

Eddie’s expression blanks, his mouth parting over nothing. Buck can only stare back, hoping that just this once it might be different. That he won’t get a, ‘Take care of yourself, Buck,’ and a hand to the cheek before the person in front of him disappears forever.

Eddie doesn’t touch his cheek. Instead he presses their foreheads together hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make Buck’s breath catch and rush out of him on a shaky exhale.

“I won’t. I promise,” Eddie breathes and his hand moves from Buck’s neck to the back of Buck’s head and Buck can’t help wondering for a moment what would happen if he closed the distance between them. If Eddie would kiss him back.

It’s not a thought he’s ever entertained before but he’s thinking it now and it feels…like it makes sense. Like an inevitability.

And what a time to have a realisation like that.

Eddie leans back then and Buck forces himself to unclench his hands, attempting to smooth out the back of Eddie’s jacket with trembling hands.

“You should go,” he says because Eddie won’t.

Eddie nods faintly in agreement and it looks like it takes every ounce of effort for him to take a step back. Buck picks up his bag for him, offers it to him, and tries for a weak smile so Eddie will know it’s okay. That he can go and Buck won’t cause a scene.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get to my parents place.”

Buck nods. “Give Chris a hug for me.”

“I will.”

Eddie starts looking towards the security line again and Buck blurts out, “Tell him I love him.”

Eddie looks back to him, a devastating smile of understanding on his face. “He knows already. But I will.”

Buck nods again and then there’s nothing left to say. Eddie turns to go and Buck does the same because he can’t watch until he’s out of sight. It hurts too much already and he can barely hold his tears back as it is.

He doesn’t need to watch himself get left behind again.

~

He’s just unlocking his car when his phone rings. He doesn’t check who it is as he climbs in, just shoves the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he reaches for his seatbelt.

“Keep me company while I wait for my flight?”

He straightens so quickly the phone almost falls into his lap but he catches it just in time. And he tries to laugh but he thinks it might come out more like a sob. “Keep me company on the drive home?”

“Always,” Eddie says like they’re driving home from work after a long shift.

Buck switches his phone to speaker mode and looks down at the keys in his hand, at the keys to the loft, Maddie’s place and Eddie’s house respectively, considering his options before turning on the ignition.

“So there’s the guy at the gate-“ Eddie starts and Buck lets the sound of his voice wash over him. Allows himself just one singular moment where he closes his eyes and holds his hand to his chest before he pulls himself together and drives out of his space.

Eddie is offering him a play by play of the guy at the gate who’s insisting his luggage is not chirping and Buck gets his breath back enough to make a quip about how that made it through the security scanner.

When he reaches the freeway it takes hardly any thought at all for him to take the exit that’ll get him to the Diaz house fastest.

He’s going home after all.

~

[netherfeildren]

Busy, Dying. Part 2;

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, They're behaving badly and doing things they shouldn't be doing idk, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Scenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, He’s a loser your honor!!!

Word Count: 6.3K

Read on AO3

Part 2;

It is your own conspiracy that if you say the words three times in the mirror—I am so alone I am so alone I am so alone—the feeling will go away. Banished ghost. 

You commit yourself to this practice religiously for three weeks before you feel you must absolutely return to the meetings held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church or you might just die. 

The first Friday back, you watch him. He blunders around the crowd, struggling to find a seat when he rushes in late that evening, trying to sit as far away from you as possible and, to his great misfortune, ending up right behind you. Squashed between two old ladies, his big body comically trying to fold itself into the tight rows. You laugh at him the whole way through the meeting. 

He’s like a raging bull after that. Scowly and unapproachable as the omegas in the group inevitably make their meager attempts to talk to him. It makes it all the more irreconcilable, a man like that here in a place like this—all the while with a wife at home. 

You wonder about her. 

“That one has a bad temper,” Maria warns as the two of you watch him. They seem to know each other in some way outside of this church, and it takes everything in you not to beg for details. “Big and hairy like a bad, lonely dog.”

You say, “I think he’s shy.” 

She watches you very peculiarly after that, and tells you, “You’re lost, girl. Joel Miller isn’t what you need finding you.”

But you know this, you assure her, and you continue to avoid him. 

The following Friday, he’s the one playing the disappearing act. The next week, as well—no show. You start to dread even your own shadow, wondering where he is, wondering if he’s ever coming back, if he has children and how old he is. Wondering if he wonders about you. Wondering why you’re so obsessed.

Too full of curiosity for your own good, you hover when he finally appears once again. Circling him and Maria, desperate for any sort of information. 

His wife had been sick, he says. He’d had to take her to the doctor. 

You wonder if her sickness might be his baby—sick to your stomach at the thought of it yourself. 

Finally, the week after, the two of you break your fast from one another. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says, coming up from behind, ambushing you once again at the dessert and coffee trough. This is supposed to be a safe space, yet it feels anything but with him near. 

“No I haven’t.”

“You’re not supposed to tell lies in church. It’s a sin.”

“I don’t believe in sin.” You turn to face him, and your stomach hurts. 

He’s got on a dark green fisherman’s sweater—well worn but knit sturdy. A thing that looks as if it’s been his for years. 

You’re feeling thin-skinned and unable to face him today, and for no good reason. You don't know this man. You have no right to punish him with your silence, no right to be angry, to wonder about him. But that sternness from before, the one that looked too heavy for him to carry, has been wiped away from his face now, and in its place he only looks very earnest, like he really wants to talk to you. And it’s only that, well you don’t know him, yes, but you’d felt that you needed to, or that you would. That you were meant to find him in this place, and you’re angry at yourself and at him at how wrong you’d been, still even after all these weeks of radio silence while he’d been busy caring for his sick wife. 

“Me either,” he gives a small huff of laughter, shoving his fists into the pockets of his dark jeans. 

Setting the donut in your hand back on the table—rude and gross, but it’s an afterthought—you wipe your sweet sweaty palm against your hip, appetite all gone now. The basement is suddenly unbearably hot, your heart beating in your throat. 

“Anywho, I gotta run. Somewhere to be—” you mumble, brushing past him. There’s a sudden rush of itching heat burning its way up your chest, your throat, ants crawling over your scalp. The room is stifling, your limbs leaden and too many bodies; so many disgusting, clashing scents: pheromones, and desperation and such terrible loneliness, and him at the center of it, ambrosial.

You’ll have to recite your mantra more faithfully in the mirror every night, not a single miss. Remind yourself, I am so alone, so that the feeling might go away, and you’ll forget him and the way he smells and his eyes like amber green river stones, more quickly. 

“Whoah, hold on,” he calls after you, following to the exit and up the steps to the world outside of this church. You’d brought a coat today, unable to enjoy the cold the way you usually do, uncharacteristically chill, aching limbs, miserable in the biting morning air. He calls your name, and you clutch the wool against your chest, trying to hurry away from his much longer legs and pace as he catches up. 

Suddenly, though, you change your mind. Whirling around to look up, you stop your running, and he’s right there, so close. “I haven’t been ignoring you. You were gone.” Mind changing again, your gaze falls, unable to hold his eyes. You watch his left hand flex like he wants to do something with it. 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

A scoff. “What are you apologizing to me for?” 

“You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my entire life.” He says it quietly by way of explanation, like another apology. 

“You must not have met very many interesting people.”

It feels hot and cold at the same time out here. Your stomach still hurts. Your eyes ache as if you could cry, which is ridiculous because you have absolutely no reason to cry. 

“Maybe not,” he says very low. It seems he’s drifting closer, like you’ll float away. A car honks its horn loudly somewhere in the background, and you still can’t look at his face. His own coat is clutched in his fist and now the honker is shouting too, expletives and God’s name being taken in vain. 

“You should go back in there,” you tip your chin at the depths you’d just fled from, stealing a quick glance at his face, “Find someone else who’s interesting.”

He grunts once, a wordless no and lifts his coat to drape it over your shoulders—you decide you’re even colder now, you don’t think you’ll ever be warm again—and takes yours from your listless grip, draping it over his elbow. 

This man. “Aren’t you here to get to know people?” You demand, finally looking up at him angrily. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Let’s go for a walk.” His palm at your bicep urging you towards Arlington and the garden sends all sound skittering out of your ears. He reminds you of your earlier words, that he might like to walk, and you can hear yourself agreeing while you look up at the muted light of the late November afternoon leaching through the cloud cover. Through the wool and cotton you feel your skin sucking heat from that singular point of contact, warming you entirely.

It had been blisteringly cold last night, the alluring taste of incumbent winter in the air, and a vicious frost had ermined all the tree trunks within the Boston Public Garden, roughened the surface of the grass. 

Joel chooses a quiet spot by the pond, the willow weeps above your head and all around the two of you the sharp autumn air is lightly laced with the fragrance of leaf rot. An elderly couple floats serenely in a lone swan boat at the center of the pond, not a ripple in the surface, as if they weren’t really there. 

Helping you to sit, he gently pulls his coat from your shoulders, laying the garment for you to rest on protected from the frigid ground and carefully looping your arms through your own coat now, he pulls the excess fabric of his up, draped over your shoulders once again, leaving you securely enveloped from the cold. 

“Here, let me help you,” he says, and the sudden gentleness in his voice makes you want to burst into tears. His character, that of some matryoshkin sort, one embedded in another in another, never knowing which is the realest one, the truest one, which will come next. Angry snarling dog one day, a gentleness that burns the next. You have the sense that a person could know him for decades and still never reach the center, never cease to discover more. 

Sitting before you—you perch alone on the island of his given coat—he tilts his head, leaning back braced on thick arms to look up at the swaying vines with just an impression of brilliant yellow-green, as if that were the color of the air. A sudden breeze stirs the softness of his hair, lifting a stubborn cowlick, and at that exact moment, the cloud cover parts on the face of the sun. In the brilliant shaft of buttered sunlight, his dark curls glint with specks of purest silver, leaving you wishing you could touch the fan of fine lines at the corner of his eyes, feel his age with your fingertips. 

“You’re angry with me,” he finally says, head still tilted towards the sky. You watch him very closely, learning. His voice is deep, quiet. He looks tired, the violet shadows beneath the brilliant hazel eyes. Still beautiful, the full, slightly sulky curve of his mouth surrounded by dark beard. He is everything, all of him, masculine. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

Finally, he looks at you, too. He’s got a big head, proportionate to his big body, that falls back heavily. You can’t help smiling at him, it feels too natural. 

“Now you’re honest.”

“I wouldn’t tell a lie here,” you say, and he sighs like you’re a supremely difficult little omega, too impossible to be reasoned with. But turning back to the sky, eyes closed now, there’s a smile across his mouth also, and you wish the two of you could sit here and laugh forever in this moment.

The silence between the two of you is marvelous enough to be unnerving. Settled beneath his great coat, you’d never believed you could feel the cold so little—learning every fine detail that makes up the man. Even inches away from him, he seems utterly unattainable, each of the two of you existing on your separate islands—you trace the woolen edge of his coat against the ground—some twenty years your senior and married. But the cold has given you such a feeling of grounding buoyancy. You’d awoken angry, miserable, so full of despair you would’ve been sick with it if it were possible. And now—you hadn’t felt this alive or awake in years, perhaps your entire life. He is a marvel, and there are bubbles in your head threatening to take you floating away, and yet, your feet are firmly melded to the ground in reality. 

How attractive, how delicious the prospect of intimacy is with someone who you know will never grant it. It fills you with something ferocious or hungry or snapping, something pathetic that makes you want it all the worse. And he, with a gravitational pull too strong to even think of escaping.

Yes. You hadn't felt so happy in years. 

“How old are you?” Breaking the silence, you ask him.

“Forty three.”

“You have a brother.” He nods. “I have one too.”

“Do you speak to yours? I don’t.”

“He calls me once a month. It’s all he can bear of me.”

“Mine won’t speak to me.” He sounds sad saying so. 

“Why not?”

“I hurt him. Scared him.”

“My brother, he says my whole life is papier-mâché. My values are all wrong, I’m a crowd-pleaser. It’s probably true.” You’d felt it impossible to better yourself, and yet still, you tried for him. “How did you hurt him?”

“You can’t change a man, only make him more secure. Depending on his character that may then bring happiness or strength or success. Tommy’s failure of this in me was more than he could bear, also.”

The willow becomes your confessional. “I spiked my own drink once just to see what it would be like. A doctor told me afterwards that I have self destructive tendencies. I want to hurt myself, but I don’t want to actually feel the hurt, which makes me all the more addicted to it. A supernumerary on the stage of my own life, too afraid of hurting and hungry for it at the same time.”

The heel of his left hand, you notice, is bearing down on an old acorn burr, and yet he seems not to feel the pain. 

He’s looking at you very intently now. Some glimmering streak in his eye. It almost looks aggressive, and a muscle flutters madly at the edge of his jaw. He straightens, sitting up to face you. The acorn burr is left flattened and disfigured in his wake.

“The last doctor I saw told me I was depressed. I never went back after.”

“Are you?”

He laughs surprisingly full of humor and then instantly serious again. “Probably. I’ve been watching my life, scratching at it trying to get in. I can’t. It’s right there.” The matryoshka shuffles, locked in his melancholy one moment, spilling brightness the next. 

You want to understand him so badly your hands shake with it. 

“What’s your favorite thing about your work?” You ask him. 

Where does his wife think he is right now?

“That’s a nice question. Maybe…” he thinks a moment, “Getting to make things that’ll go in people’s homes. The idea that something that came from me will be surrounded by a family.”

You can’t help yourself. “Why aren’t you at home?” You ask him imploringly, unbearably sad for him, sick with need, desperate to understand what it is he’s doing here, and all at once, utterly certain of what it is you are. “Don’t you love your wife?” The question is posed with no bravery, and yet it still comes out into the world demanding. 

He clicks his tongue, taken aback, a shocked breath, maybe even a small, reproving smile. A hundred different emotions coming to life across his face in that single moment. 

“I don’t know,” he finally answers. “I remember loving her. Maybe. At best? She’s a stranger. At worst? An excuse?” But he says it like a question. He’s asking you, not telling, for he isn’t even sure of it himself. You’ve caught him off guard. 

“No…” the click of his tongue snapping you to attention, “That's too generous. We’re trapped in a box together, but completely strange to one another.” It suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be telling you this—about her. You’re sure he shouldn’t be. 

“Do you hate each other?” You ask anyway. There’s something…your only example of love and marriage being two people who had always hated one another and filled the home where their children lived with more hate. It’s difficult to fathom something different than what that had looked like. 

If you were truly brave, you’d ask if he has children, too. 

“No,” he says immediately, a non option, his brow furrowed. “That would take too much effort.” 

Now you understand. He’s alone anyways. The feeling of urgency within you mounts. You’re frightened by this moment of discovery. 

“You’re Southern. Your accent…” You can’t discuss this anymore, needing to change the subject. 

“Texas.”

“When did you leave?”

“Long time ago.”

“Do you miss it?”

At his, he laughs like the question is ironic. “No. Where are you from?”

“Sometimes it feels like I can’t even remember.”

And as if he’d pulled the feeling straight from your mouth, he tells you that he understands what that’s like, and you can’t help it when you reach for his hand, being as careful with him as you would any shy creature, needing to hold him. 

-

“I’ve never been in love,” you tell him, childish look of recklessness and valor coming across your face as you pick up on the earlier thread of conversation you’d frightened yourself with. “It seems too daring, even grotesque.” 

He thinks he wants to capture that look in a bottle and take it everywhere with him. His entire body throbs with a heartbeat and the shape of your hand fits his as if every joint and muscle and soft ligament had been specifically designed for him to hold, filled suddenly with a terrible sense of foreboding. Looking at you, one just knows there’ll be a broken heart. 

Your small thumb smooths gently over his large one, and he marvels that such an exquisite creature would touch him. God, but you’re beautiful. Your touch, soft and enticing and painful all at once. No one had ever been so gentle with him.

“Won’t you tell me a secret?” You beg.

He will. He might give you anything in this moment. In the weeks he’d been kept away, he’d desperately counted the days and minutes until he could return to that place of worship and honesty. 

“I think about you,” voice hushed, the shaking of the leaves not loud enough to mask the soft breath you suck in as he gives you his confession. He maps the architecture of the small hands in his grasp, fingers tracing fingers, uncured clay fragile before the heat. He feels tired and strangely spent, almost drunk on your touch. His thumb slides upwards, marveling at the softness of your wrist, and then there, beneath the shivering distraction of your pulse and his disturbing search, the unlocked fragrance of your scent gland. It drifts towards him slowly like smoke rising from sleep.  

The air seems to pulse between the two of you with heat and premonition. That singular moment before everything goes terribly wrong, he can see it in your eyes. Such vibrancy, excitement, recklessness turned danger. 

“We should…” you feel him begin to pull away, grappling to hold on to the moment and his hand, “We should fuck.” He takes himself back, letting you go. Where else was this being led?

He cringes away from you. “Excuse me?” 

“Sex. You’ve had it before.” His mind reels. His body’s reaction at hearing your mouth say these things, the way it shapes them, the soft, full lips wrapped around the words.  

Looking away, he watches the pond’s couple help each other out of the swan. In his periphery, he can see you begin to bristle at his silence. 

“Don’t be peevish. It’s unbecoming.” 

He can’t help feeling angry. “I’m not. I’m old enough to be your father.” And you laugh at him. You’re deviating paths now, going opposite ways and angry at one another for it. 

“We could pretend that—if that’s what you want,” you say, voice husky and seductive. A small palm smooths up his thigh and his gaze snaps fire at you, hand clamping painfully at your wrist, fingernails digging at your gland, disturbing more of that gorgeous scent into the air. 

You make a pained sound. He needs to leave. He needs to never see you again.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he shoots back, hot everywhere. 

“Don’t be a prude.” He flings your wrist away, and you cradle it against your chest as if he’d hurt you. The heat turns to guilt pulsing through his limbs. 

Warring to wounded then, your eyes. You wrap your fingers around your discarded wrist. “What if we lose everything? What if tomorrow’s the end of the world? What if we’re so thoroughly cured of our loneliness after all this is done, we never feel like we need another person this way again?” 

His muscles tense with the need to flee or attack, the thought of you needing him, of being needed in such a way—he’s like some creature coming upon its mate. 

Despite his age, he had never tried to truly seduce anyone. He had never truly wanted anyone. Not in any real and base sort of way. Desire for him had been a mute and ordinary thing. But he could have you now, turned into a thing he’d never been before, he could mount you and rut you into the dirt like an animal. Never so much a product of his designation as he feels in this instant. 

He can’t even form word, and your body seems to pulse against his with embarrassed heat and indignation. 

“Have you ever even fucked an omega?” You spit at him meanly. 

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.” Voice carefully restrained, each syllable off his tongue is measured with his tenuous control. 

“Tell me anyways,” you demand, shoving his coat off your shoulders being the thing that almost makes him lose it. 

“It’s cold. Put that back on.”

“Tell me.” And he shouldn’t. You should have no sway over him. No demand of his honesty or anything else that belongs to him.

“Once. Only because I wanted to know what it was like.” He’s man enough to admit to himself the embarrassment he feels telling you this.

But it seems to quell some tremor in your eyes, and you sit back, palm petting at your throat as if you’re trying to soothe yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, gaze averted, glassy, delirious look there. “I’ve always gotten my feelings hurt easily. I’m—” you shake your head quickly, sucking on your lip. “...too sensitive. Sometimes I feel like I’ll float away if I don’t find anyone to hold me down.” 

He should tell you that you’re not, wants to, but the image of you weak and pinned beneath him churns in his mind. Whole body aching suddenly, needing his hands on you before he does something truly heinous—he straightens abruptly, abandoning your reassuring warmth. Feeling suddenly cold despite the sweat dotting his spine. 

Without another word he turns to leave you there, alone, while the swan pair watches from across the pond as the two of you part ways. 

The next morning he awakens stiff and burning, his cock a brand of heat against his stomach. And works his entire day in a static haze, lavender spots at the edge of his vision where all he can think about is how you smell and the way your hand feels in his. By five o’clock, his fingers ache, spasming painfully from gripping his tools too hard. Breaking his weeks-long habit, he decides to attend the Saturday night meeting, full of constrained energy and sullen moodiness. Reasoning that a pretty, young girl like you wouldn’t waste her weekend in the basement of a church abandoned by God. 

And is sick to his stomach with equal measures elation and dread when he spots you sitting amongst the crowd of metal folding chairs—wearing his coat. He doesn’t hesitate even a little when he claims the seat next to yours. 

The two of you sit in strained silence the entire meeting, the other alphas and omegas surrounding throwing alarmed and intrigued glances your way as the tension brews hotter and more frenzied. 

His body hurts. This is a painful kind of lust. 

He listens to the speakers tonight with only half an ear, instead, occupied with the memory of what you’d looked like the other week eating a jelly and cream filled donut, imagining what your mouth would look like smeared with his blood and come. He can smell your body, how hot and trembling nervous you are. So unlike all that blistering, innocent valor from yesterday. 

The omega with the cruel husband turned sick one is taking her turn again tonight. Now that he looks at her, she has hair that at one time was vibrant red, now turned a softened copper threaded through with white. Time is such a painful, slow thing, Joel thinks. 

“Have you ever been with someone you knew you were too good for?” The omega asks the room, while the one beside him begins to shake, knee jolting nervously.

You’re anxious, and it makes him angry that you should be made so by his actions. 

Too rough for forbearance, his palm clamps down tightly on your knee, holding it still, and you make some supplicant whimper at the back of your throat. Almost imperceptibly, you draw away from him, the line of your shoulders growing rigid, and a wild, irrational sense of loss steals his breath. 

He’s been so busy lately, distracted. He’s hungry, overstrained, anxious himself. He doesn’t mean to be brusque with you. He just can’t help himself. 

Would we be here if we had? Someone lost in the crowd pipes back. 

The woman laughs, she has a kind face. “Me either.” You shove his palm off your leg as if it burns. “But there was someone… once. A chance, maybe. Someone I didn’t choose but should have. We were friends. We came very close to being happy.” 

And he suddenly feels a wave of desolation so overwhelming wash over him. He turns to look at you, your vibrating profile, so pretty, and he’s gentle this time when he touches your knee. Just to feel you. How terrible, he thinks, to only come very close to being happy. 

The speaker changes, and then it’s Maria’s voice talking to them all. Joel still can’t look away from you as you, in turn, refuse to look at him. “Stop, Joel,” you whisper. But he can’t. 

“At the start of this, we usually discuss a second option for those of you who aren’t able to find what you’re looking for in this. Sometimes it’s not so simple,” Maria tells them. 

A miracle move on drug, she calls it. 

The group’s coalition is sponsored by a pharmaceutical company, one testing a cure for loneliness. Something they think of as pilled perfection, something to numb the pain of loss. Any emotional wound, now with the potential to be a thing of the past. The young omega handing out the pamphlets had promised an easy cure, it seems this is what he’d been referring to. And if the potential side effects included an inability to hold on to any sort of emotional attachment afterward, well, the encounter groups they’d targeted thus far were grateful for it in the end anyway. They were all alone after all. 

“It’ll help you let go of everything you can’t let go of,” Maria tells them. “Help make you forget. Help make you un-lonely. We’ll be holding a session Wednesday morning for anyone who’s interested in being part of the trial. Our sponsor company, Firefly, is very happy to welcome as many of you as possible.” 

Beside him, you whisper, “Only a coward would take that option. What a cheat.” He hesitates, perplexed and wounded by your words. 

“You’ll never have to grieve or miss something you can’t get back, ever again. I know that for many of you, this is the ultimate fantasy,” Maria says.

“I think it sounds like something to help let go. Like what I came here for.”

You exchange cards. Now it’s your turn, the wounded look. 

When Maria’s through, bidding the group goodnight and setting them all free to mingle, you’re up and out of your seat before he can get a word in. He watches you go as if he were some sort of abandoned lapdog, only for a second, before he’s once again, striding after you. 

You weave almost drunkenly through the crowd, first heading towards the exit, then to the beverage station, then correcting and veering towards the back hall where the restrooms and catechism classrooms are. 

Gaining on you, he takes you by the elbow, pushing you deep into the darkness of the long hallway. Going far enough the din of desperate socialization turns a quiet murmur. You’re really in the belly of the beast now. So quiet and dust infused it feels as if it’s been years since a soul stepped through here. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Your face glows with fevered sweat. 

“I’m sick,” you mumble on the tail end of a whine when he shakes your arm into responsive compliance. “Let me go. Stop,” you fight, trying to claw away from him.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I threw up all night. And you have the personality of a snarling dog more than a man. Has anyone ever told you that?” Shoving at his chest now feebly.

Ignoring your caterwauling, he takes you in entirely. “You’re not sick,” he says again, sure now. 

There’s a timeless hunger gnawing at his gut. Joel suddenly feels more himself than he think he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

Dragging you high against his chest by the collar of his own coat, he brings the tip of his nose slowly to the valley of sweet fragrance at the side of your throat. Inhaling deeply at the flushed, swollen scent gland there. The sound of your toes scuffing against the floor excites him even more. 

“You’re not sick. You’re going into heat,” he says slowly; gathering the overwhelmed, shivering creature as gently as he can in his arms. 

Your fingers claw at his own throat in return, as if digging for his own answering scent. “No. But it’s not time. I had one not so long ago.” You sound on the verge of tears, and he makes a deep, soothing sound in his chest. “My blockers...I— I can’t be. It’s not time yet.”

“It’s a breakthrough heat.” His other hand comes around to the small of your back and ever so slowly, he presses your hips closer to his. “It’s mine. Because of me.”

“No.” You shove back with renewed strength suddenly, spinning around to scurry deeper down the dark hall and then careening on weak legs into an abandoned classroom. 

Heart beating madly at the prospect of the hunt, he takes a singular calming breath before he’s prowling after the sound of your crying. 

-

“You need to not run from me right now. It’ll make my rut come faster,” his deep voice comes from somewhere in the dark unknown. 

You scramble around the children’s desks, weaving your way clumsy with disorientation to the far end of the classroom. You don’t want to go into heat right now. You can’t. Not with him. You need to be safe and alone in the confines of your warm, comfortable bedroom, far away from the temptation of him.

His heavy, panting breath sounds closer and there’s a shriek in your throat like a struggling kitten. 

“You want me to lose my self control. That’s what this is, isn’t it?” There’s a loud crash as he shoves one of the little desks out of his way, followed by your answering shriek. And then he’s here, coming up behind you but finding mercy enough to hold himself back at the last moment, panting as if he’d just run miles fighting against himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry. Come here, baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay.” He takes a step closer, and the slowing of his breath and soothe of his voice calms you in turn. “You’re only going into heat, that’s all, sweet girl. I’ve triggered it for you and I’m sorry. Let me come to you.”

You let out a high and harried sound, palm smoothing over your throat over and over again. “Joel,” you say once.

“I’m here. It’s okay.”

“It’s only that—”

“What is it?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m embarrassed.” A helpless tear spills out over the edge of your eyelid. 

“You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about with me. Ever. We understand each other, you and I. Don’t we?”

And he’s right of course. You’d picked his face out of the crowd in instant recognition, after all. “I’ve had heats…but I’ve never—never had a, a heat with someone. With an alpha.” 

He’s utterly silent and you feel deranged enough you’re almost certain you can hear the pound of his heart inside his chest.

“You’ve never had a knot take your cunt?”

“No.” You swallow. “Never.”

You hear a muttered fuck, and his breathing goes quick and shallow and then even again. He has better control over himself than you do at this moment. 

“Then how?”

You flush full of heat, embarrassed. “T—toys,” you stutter. “Medication to help ease it.”

When he steps closer, only calm accompanies him. All is suddenly quiet. You want him. Your disjointed mind, overwhelmed by too many confusing emotions had gone into overdrive for a moment, but now, with the scent of hot, aggravated alpha surrounding you, it’s obvious this was all you’d needed to calm down. 

You can feel his hot breath against your forehead, the wash of heat on each exhale and the lingering scent of sweet musk at his inhale. You touch his cheek with shaking fingers and feel him turn ever so slightly into your palm, and then he’s bending slowly. 

First, it’s a soft, wet nudge of his mouth, your bodies held apart. Then his strong nose bumping into the side of yours, the splendor of inexperience turning to knowing, a nuzzle. Coming in again hungry, with the slick of tongue now, and the deep inhale of shock at first taste. Your breaths rush through one another, and you feel yourself backing away in maybe fear, more likely overwhelm, but his mouth follows your retreat and then his palms are at your waist, tugging you into himself, pressing you tightly to his body with a ragged groan. 

“Your mouth…Your mouth is so beautiful,” he says.

Everything in your lower belly cramps in painful agony, and you scratch at his arms and neck without much strength, trying to climb higher and take more of him into your mouth. Oh, you want this so badly. You want it to be everything you’ve dreamed of so obsessively the past weeks. Nothing else in the world exists except for your two mouths pressed together.

His lips burn a wet path across your cheekbone, sliding to the side of your neck to suckle at your scent gland. “Fuck.” His scraped teeth along the patch of sensitive skin. “Have you had sex before?” The question is gentle, understanding, his tongue tasting your sensitive earlobe, head ducking suddenly to give a sharp bite at your breast. 

“Yes.” His erection is pressed firm at your belly, hot even through his jeans and your sweater. His large body radiates heat. At your back, his palm finds the edge of your top, sliding underneath to make first contact, blistering skin against blistering skin. 

“But not an alpha.” He says it smugly, the bastard. Palm sliding down to your rump, tucking you more tightly against his hard cock. You shake your head at the crook of his neck, fingertips twisting in the back of his hair. Your breath comes in wet little pants that sound too pathetic to bear. 

“It’s going to feel so good,” he promises, rubbing slow circles low on your back with that wide, strong palm. “It’s different. It’s…” That palm slides lower, squeezees the curve of your ass. “It’s ordinary if it isn’t with someone…special. If there’s not the possibility of—” 

You tell him you understand what he’s trying to say. 

“I think it’ll be so good between us,” he finishes. 

At the waist of your skirt, his fingers press between your skin and the stretch of your tights, forcing his large hand into their confines. Your breath skips into his open mouth, panting into one another he cups you between your legs and suddenly all you can focus on is the tight ache there, the nylon soaked obscenely between your thighs. His arm around your back squeezes you tighter to his chest and his fingertips are pushing past lace edge to feel the slick swell of wet cunt. 

“Oh, Joel. Not here,” you moan. “Someone will come in.” He’s circling your clit, so sensitive and so swollen it hurts. You tug him impossibly closer, and he presses you back into the cold stone wall. “We can’t in a church.” Your protestations sound weak even to your own ears as you spread your legs wider for him. 

“I don’t give a fuck.”

He takes your mouth again, sucking deeply, groaning even deeper when he presses inside of you to the first knuckle. “Tight, baby,” he breathes into your neck, his hips slowly grinding into your pelvis. 

He feeds you more, then presses a second finger, holding still for a second, then another. Panting like a rabbit caught in a trap with three of his too thick fingers stuffed in your overstretched cunt. The sound of popping seams moves up your spine. 

“Can feel your little cunt shaking around me. Jesus—” he groans. It’s all mine, whispered into your hair. 

Suddenly, there’s the open and close of a door nearby. And then the sound of someone’s voice calling your names. Joel huddles you further into the dark corner, confined by the protection of his body, his fingers still moving in and out of you, stretching you well enough to burn as he presses as deeply as he can and with the utmost gentleness, pets lightly at the painfully sensitive mouth of your cervix. Humming in satisfaction at the feel of you. 

“Right there?” He hums. 

You’re crying, clutching at him even more tightly. Your name sounds again, being searched for, like a warning. 

“If I fuck you, nobody else ever will.” His voice is so dark it’s menacing. It’s recklessness, verging on a lie. Maybe it’s hope. 

Pressing lightly again, petting, petting, he pulls his fingers back a little, the loud sucking sound of your cunt trying to hold onto him, and you’re coming for him, crying into his neck, sucking on his scent gland so that the taste of him floods your mouth. The sound of a door opening, and you hear him growl at someone to fuck off in a very scary voice, his fingers never ceasing their steady thrust inside of your clenching pussy, and the frightened slam of a door. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright. That’s my good girl,” he pets and soothes at you, pressing a kiss to your temple, your eyelids, your mouth again and again.

Part 3;

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[merakiui]

a little scenario that’s been floating around in my head for a bit (◕ᴗ◕✿) soft non con with hybrid wolf Jade and a bunny girl darling…

Jade who’s going into rut, delirious and no way to properly relieve himself without a mate… maybe a walk through the forest will help him clear his head! He’s barely managing in his condition ;( all hot and stumbling over himself… this was a bad idea. maybe he should just find someplace to lay down. But he spots a little bunny girl in the bushes and next thing he knows his legs are working again and he’s chasing her through the forest!

The poor thing is trembling and kicking at him, but she’s no match for Jade’s strength! Surely she’s about to be eaten! But he’s more horny than hungry orz and she’s only slightly less fearful when he’s suddenly burying his face between her thighs. He’s not gonna eat her but he still wants a taste! She’s so small and soft and warm… and smells SO good. He won’t listen to her protests but is being surprisingly… gentle… doing his best to prep and stretch her out with his fingers (｡>﹏<) but it’s still so much when he’s finally inside!

Jade’s cooing sweet praises at her for taking him so well between pathetic whining and panting ( ;´ - `;) he wants to be slow but he can’t… it’s the sweetest relief he’s known! He passes out soon after knotting her, and after the swelling went down enough she took her chance to escape! He’s disappointed to see that she’s already gone when he wakes up :(

It’s a relief for her to still be alive after that encounter, but not so much in the following months… She better pray that she never runs into him again, cuz if Jade sees how pregnant she is with his pups he’s sure as hell not letting his little bunny girl escape a second time (๑-﹏-๑)

👁 👁 AAAAA THIS IS A FEAST!!!!! Anon, you have no idea how down bad I am for bunny x wolf dynamic…… orz and with wolf Jade as well,,, it’s over for me. OTL small bunnygirl with a belly full of pups… so heavily pregnant that all of the other bunnies in your village marvel over how you’re able to hold so many, all of them assuming those are baby bunnies. No one knows anything about the wolf you encountered and you won’t tell anyone because you’re too scared, fearing that the others in your village will panic if they think you led a wolf into your safe, peaceful home. >_<

But sometimes it really is so difficult to stand for long periods of time or do lots of work without breaks, and you have the appetite of a wolf now with so many pups!! You’re only a few months along, but you look like you’re at the end of your pregnancy, fit to burst and give birth any moment. You avoid doctor appointments because you worry they’ll be able to tell what really happened even though everything is completely confidential and Dr. Rosehearts would never do such a thing!

Aaaaa imagine instead of encountering Jade again it’s his twin brother…… Floyd who only finds you because you smell familiar (like a wolf or maybe like his family), so he’s confused when he parts the bushes to find…a bunny??? And you panic because you think it’s him—the wolf who chased you down and fucked into you like a mindless beast. Floyd who tries to speak softly and sweetly to get you to calm down. You’re so pregnant. He doesn’t want to stress you out. :< maybe you can come back to his home and he can make you something nice to eat as an apology for spooking you. You must be starving, right?

Wolf Floyd who unintentionally leads you right to Jade. :)

[be-good-be-safe-be-kind]

.

no one's really asked, and i don't really like telling people about the different parts, but i do tend default to basics like these circles bc idk really how else to explain. and also i'm almost always on the fence with if i even have DID or not, even with all the symptoms and conversations with therapist and evaluators and 'proofs' after social events and stuff where hearing what happened, the reaction of 'i would not do that' and stuff.

approximate age and gender is the 'easiest' to pinpoint, since my overall concept of gender is just -shrug-, and gender presentation i don't really think about but there are things like 'oh this one likes when the hair is in a ponytail' or 'this one prefers short shorts to basketball shorts' (and someone else is the opposite in that regard), which might be easier to explain as gender for the sake of simplicity. age is more like a 'grade' level than an age, or a 'group' like anywhere under 5, or somewhere between 5 and 7/early schooling. 12ish to early/middle teenager, or vague age between 14 and 18. a couple of 'adults' with nothing more to go on except as a kid, they're whatever i guess i though an adult was like, and they're anywhere between always 5ish years above me or just 'adult'.

temperament and likes/dislikes, or interests/disinterests is a bit trickier, but this blog does help. i scroll through the dash and random blogs and sometimes things just stand out as someone's, so they get tagged and drafted, and then i use the drafts as a dash and if i feel like whoever and see something at the time, it usually gets posted then. the thing is though, idk even if i am them at the time or what the deal is but sometimes interests just 'speak' to me or not-me and i want it archived/ timestamped for that time. and also led to a bit of a panic attack a while ago where the ocean/waves sometimes feels more like a part than an interest, like there's more of a person attached to it kinda in the [ws] way and not in ways like with toys or tv.

the blue circle with the layers is a really helpful diagram bc i also am not usually thinking or feeling distinct. i mean i can recognize some distinctions like right now i'm able to use personal pronouns and complete sentences and not worry about how grammatically incorrect they are, which sorta points to a certain part/feeling/mode but idk. idk if this is more conscious or subconscious but i am aware of it right now and how these things aren't 'universal' / collective / communal things, but idk really what to do with that. i don't think it matters much, as long as i'm this 'awake' or whatever and know where i am and what's happening. the problem is more when there's awareness of distinctions but mostly confusion, like the times when i almost literally can't speak, like it feels physically impossible, and can't really move either and sorta wait it out or until i guess the other subconscious parts push forward more and break out of that mode?

life usually is kinda rainbow-y and blurry. although i have my circle kinda the opposite of this diagram i think, where the conscious layer is the outermost circle and the innermost one is unconscious, bc i feel like most of the time things move from the inside out than outside in? or like, there's a lot of unconscious stuff all the time, but maybe it sorta blurs with the subconscious, which then moves closer to consciousness/what presents to me and others/what i guess i look like on the outside. idk. i just know that language like 'fronting' confuses me bc i don't think i ever know who is the one entirely 'facing' the world.

and now i'm running out of steam and getting brain foggy so gonna call it a day with this one

I made a thing that’s entirely based off personal experience.

For all the people who struggle to figure out “who’s fronting” or even “who’s around”…I’m right there with you.

[DID/OSDD Casually Explained Masterpost]

[pomefioredove]

@hxney-lemcn said more cater fics and I am here 2 deliver ✌️✌️

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ friends kiss, too

type of post: short fic characters: cater additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, friends 2 lovers ON TOP! a little making out

Every time Cater drags you through one of these things, you ask yourself why you let him, and every time, the answer is the same: he's your best friend, and you love him.

It's the very same reason you let him spam you with texts and annoy you with surprise selfies. It's the reason you rarely hang out with anyone else, because you know it makes him jealous, though he'd never admit that.

It's the reason you're here, now, awake in your room well past curfew.

Despite the threat of a Housewarden who would flay you alive if he caught you and Cater sneaking around in the dead hours of the night, your bestie was absolutely insistent on this all-nighter.

It's a trend on Magicam, he said, and he had, of course, pouted and whined like a sad puppy until you agreed to "support him" by keeping him awake.

By two in the morning, you were more bored than tired.

"Pass. Pass," Cater says, swiping through dating profiles on his phone. "Hm... no, pass."

You sigh and slump against the headboard of your bed. "You've said that word so many times, it doesn't sound real anymore,"

"Ughhhh. Is Sage's Island where hotties go to die? I just want a cute holiday romance!" he exclaims. "Think of the pics!"

You roll your eyes. You'd heard that exact string of words probably ten times in the past few days.

"You can't date someone just for couple photo ops,"

Cater pouts. "Oh, yes I can. I specify "nothing serious" on my profile! It's not like I'm lying!"

Another eye-roll. He's technically right, as always, which just makes you even more annoyed.

But you don't want to get into an argument about the morality of flings right now.

"And it's cold out. Who am I gonna hold when it gets even colder? It's cuffing season, hon,"

Something about the way he says that bothers you. You try not to think about it so much.

"Well, you'll always have me," you tease.

Cater giggles, and sets his phone down on the bed, a subtle way of showing you that you have his full attention now. "Oh? What's this? Sounds like you're offering,"

"Not what I meant," you counter. "I'm your bestie, not your bae."

"Boooo. What are you, a nun? Friends cuddle all the time,"

Again, he's right. He likes being right, and you can see that on him now, too. He has that competitive glow on his face.

You smile. "Sure, sure, but we all know that cuddling isn't what you're looking for,"

Cater gasps, feigning offense with a hand placed delicately over his heart. "I am not that easy! I'm starting to think you really do want me all to yourself,"

If anything, it's the other way around. Since befriending him at the start of the school year, you'd always had the feeling that he took up all your time on purpose. But you don't say that.

"Besides," he goes on. "There are a lot of things that besties can do that are perfectly friend-like. The segregation of romantic and platonic is a totally oppressive amatonormative structure, anyway."

You roll your eyes. "You have got to stop reading those infographics. Do you even know what any of those words mean?"

"Not the point! I'm saying that there's lots of cute stuff we can do while remaining besties,"

He's very enthusiastic about this. You can't tell if it's his penchant for being right, or something more.

"Pfft. Okay. So, what, friends can kiss?"

"Obviously," Cater crosses his arms over his chest, giving you that smug look of his. "Friends kiss, too."

"Then prove it,"

The words that had you had been holding in the back of your mouth for the past few minutes escape before your brain can stop them.

Even Cater, who's never surprised, pales a little.

Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens, again without your thoughts offering any support.

"I didn't mean-"

"Okay,"

You blink. Something hot and cold at the same time runs through your body- adrenaline, anxiety, maybe it's just your own blood heating up at the way Cater leans closer, cupping your face in his hand, his fingers curled under your jaw and thumb gently brushing against your cheek.

His hands are kinda sweaty. You don't really mind, and even if you did, it wouldn't have mattered, because his lips are now sweetly pressing against yours.

You fit together quite nicely. As if he was just meant to kiss you.

It's hard not to think about everything all at once; his warm hand moving to cup your chin and hold you close to him, his hair brushing against your face, the way his lips still linger with spice from whatever he'd eaten earlier...

It's not perfect. But it's him, which is close enough.

Cater pulls away, his breath dancing across your lips, but he gives you no time to recover before he's closer, kissing you again with a sort of heat that matched the taste of his mouth.

He holds your face in both hands, shamelessly pinning you against the headboard and sitting in your lap as if he belonged there, always.

Minutes go by. Maybe hours. You wouldn't have noticed, or cared, either way. When you finally part from one another, it's felt like years.

You feel like an entirely different person. As if the world had ended and begun again in the six minutes you had been kissing him.

Cater sits atop your thighs, panting, his face redder than his Housewarden's hair, that of which would have flayed you both if he were to catch you like this.

Luckily, it's just the two of you.

"See?" Cater finally mumbles, dismounting you and scooting back to where he left his phone. "Platonic."

You're too breathless to argue.

You suppose you'll let him be right again.

[p0orbaby]

Hey, can you maybe write something about reader surprising Leah? Reader been away for work for a while & Leah’s really missed her. Reader comes back early to surprise leah at a family meal/after a game or something?

-

You can hear Leah before you see her. Her voice carries through her mum’s kitchen like a melody she’s been rehearsing all week, familiar and warm, laced with the faintest edge of exasperation.

“It’s not that bad, Mum,” she says, and you picture her perched on the counter, half-smiling, half-defensive, probably swinging her legs like a kid. “I’ll eat it, just—maybe not right now”

Her mum’s voice floats back, mock-indignant: “You said you wanted stew!”

“I didn’t mean one that could double as glue!”

It’s such a quintessential Leah moment that you almost forget why you’re here. Almost.

You linger in the hallway, setting your bag down quietly so they don’t hear you. The house smells like something vaguely burnt but not unpleasant, and it feels like home in a way that’s entirely unfair for a place you’ve barely spent time in.

“She’s still not back, huh?” Leah’s brother says from the dining table. You peek through the doorframe and see him fiddling with his phone, half paying attention.

Leah shrugs, but her face gives her away. “Nah. Still working”

There’s something in her tone that makes your chest tighten—soft, wistful, like she’s trying to sound indifferent and failing miserably. She looks tired in the way you only get when you’re waiting for something—or someone—and you don’t know when it’ll happen.

Well, she’s about to find out.

You step into the room, the floor creaking just enough to give you away. Leah glances up, her eyes landing on you with that split-second hesitation of disbelief before they widen.

“What the—” She doesn’t even finish the sentence.

Her family looks between you and Leah like they’ve stumbled into the climax of a romcom. Her mum’s face breaks into a grin. “Oh, you’re in trouble now,” she says, more amused than concerned.

You drop your keys on the table and hold your arms out. “Surprise?”

Leah doesn’t move at first. She just stares at you, blinking like you might vanish if she blinks too hard. Then she’s off the counter and across the room in a flash, her arms wrapping around you so tightly you think she might actually crack a rib.

“You’re home,” she mumbles into your shoulder, and it’s not a question. It’s a statement, a fact, like she needs to say it out loud to believe it.

You grin against her hair, letting her squeeze you like a stress ball. “Miss me?”

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. “Shut up.”

“You’re gonna cry, aren’t you?” you tease, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

“I am not gonna cry,” she says, even though she very much looks like she might.

Her brother snorts. “She was sulking for days, by the way. Wouldn’t shut up about—”

“Shut it, Jacob,” Leah snaps, though her face is still buried in your neck, so the effect is slightly ruined.

Her mum pats her on the back as she passes by with a fresh glass of wine. “I think you owe me for sitting through her mood swings”

“I’ll send flowers,” you quip, and Leah pinches your side in retaliation.

The rest of the night is a blur of laughter, teasing, and Leah not letting go of your hand even once. When the meal is over and everyone’s settled into the sofa for a film, she tugs you aside, her voice soft.

“I really missed you”

“I know.” You kiss her, your grin melting into something softer. “I missed you too”

[whorelaud]

fwb!rafe not realizing how beautiful you are until now, the apprehension making him nothing but crave you more; take you right then and there, even if it meant doing it in the middle of the library  warnings very suggestive

Rafe’s eyes fixed on you within the flutter of his eyelashes, gaze burning through your flesh. The boy’s face buried in his arms that were plopped on the table, invading your space as his elbow slightly brushed your forearm. The gesture was subtle, barely even there, yet, it didn’t fail to knock a breathless sigh out of your chest, instantly growing flustered to the closure of his touch. 

Knowing Rafe, this was quite rare, besides the sleepless nights you spent together, the boy offered little to no comfort, protecting the line you both chose not to cross when this whole ‘sleeping together’ thing started. It began with tutoring lessons that ended with passionate makeout sessions, eventually developing into something more, with your clothes tossed on the floor while he fucked you senseless into your bed, until you no longer could coherent words out. 

However, that instantly oscillated, with your heart skipping a beat everytime he offered to stay, justifying his words with a ‘I’m too tired to leave,’ leading to you both cuddled up on your bed, forgetting that this was nothing more than a fling, a college hookup that you’ll grow to regret. That wasn’t the only thing, though, he started having lunch with you, waiting for you lectures to finish, choosing to spend his precious time rotting in your dorm room instead of going out to parties. 

And that, it really stirred up your emotions, creating all sorts of confusing feelings for you. Therefore, it was no surprise that you felt nervous under his gaze, as he admired you with every ounce of endearment, while he waited for you to finish the presentation you were working on. 

“You’re so pretty,” Rafe suddenly blurted out, causing you to come to a halt, all while processing what he said, afraid you heard him wrong. 

“What?” You shot back through a breath, anxiously batting your eyelashes at him. Rafe stifled out a laugh, amused by how flustered you grew due to his words.

“I said,” he started, gaze trailing down to your hand, as his fingers toyed with the rings hugging your digits. “You’re pretty.”

“Shut up.” You grumbled, avoiding his gaze, and focusing your attention on the laptop in front of you, now long forgotten on the table. 

“You know,” he adjusted his position, face now nere inches away from yours. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, lips slightly hovering just beneath it, the fraction breaking goosebumps throughout your body. “Was’ so focused on fuckin’ you,” he whispered, “n’ making you feel good,” he then paused, his breath fanning over the sliver of your skin. “That I never realized how beautiful you are.” 

You tensed under his touch, almost yelping when his lips ghosted over your ear, placing a chaste kiss to it. You glimpsed in his direction, blinking far too many times for your liking. Rafe’s lips tugged into a sly smirk, satisfied by the reaction he got out of you. 

“What are you doing?” You muttered under your breath, stepping back to catch your breath, merely for Rafe to follow in your lead, invading your personal space, once again. “We’re in the library, idiot.” 

“What, I’m jus’ appreciating your beauty, baby.” He darted his tongue out to wet his lips, sneaking an arm around your waist, the gesture barely visible to the little people surrounding you. “Am I not allowed to do that now?”

“By telling me that you barely acknowledge me when you fuck me?” You boldy shot back, feeling pride bubble through your chest when Rafe rolled his eyes, entertained by your teasing. “What am I supposed to say to that?” 

“Well,” he poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, placing an open-mouthed kiss to your lips. “You’re supposed to be polite,” and another peck, “and say thank you.” 

“Not here,” you warned, suppressing the smile forming on your lips. 

‘I’ll be quick,” he hushed out, hand landing around the plump of your thigh, before he squeezed the flesh, trailing his fingers just beneath the hem of your skirt. Your eyes shifted down to his hand, swallowing around your dry throat, tempted by his risky offer. “C’mon, sweetheart, let me make you feel good.” 

His calloused fingers came to a halt around your inner thigh, digits tracing over your clothed cunt, causing in inaudible gasp to bubble out of your throat. You ceased the distance around his arm, forcing the latter into a fit of proximity, wanting nothing but to take you right then and there. 

“Fuck, you’re a mess; so wet for me, n’ I haven’t even done anythin’.” He whispered, smothering a moan out of you. “Wanna press you to the wall, n’ fuck you right then n’ there.” 

That sent you spiraling, as you jolted from your seat, leading Rafe within a close distance separating you, the boy instantly connecting your lips with his as soon as you approached a somewhat narrowed corner, one blocking the stifling moans he fucked out of you.

That alone was enough to make you realize that you liked him, more than yesterday, and less than tomorrow. 

[chiso]

Exercise burns WAY too little calories to beat a bad diet, that is very true. I also lost the weight I lost (which his 20kg since summer 2023) through diet alone. Perhaps I did SOME exercise if you count the physical strength and steps you HAVE to do when you walk around in a warehouse, but I was "fat" back then even while working there before, so I don't think it made that much of a difference.

Ofc it's fine to stay happy and learn to love yourself as you are, I just know that I for myself couldn't and I find myself way more attractive now that I lost weight and for anyone who is like me and wants to shed some kgs without a horrible diet that ends in a yoyo- I'll add what I did under here, btw this is for no profit at all, I just want to help fellow people unhappy in their skin and I thought for WAY TOO LONG that losing weight is impossible, when it's actually not that hard.

It's annoying af, I know, but calories count. Get an app that calculates your daily need of calories. It needs your height, age and weight to know the right number. Once you have that, you can extract 100-300 kcal from that total and make this your goal to eat less of that every day for a few weeks, you'll see the weight WILL get down. The scale will sometimes stay the same weight for weeks though but if you keep going you WILL see the change!

Additional to step 1- 100-300 kcal we sometimes take in just with a sweet drink or a snack. It's not that hard to eat less of it and you can still get full! You can google low kcal meals that you can eat lots of- A personal tip from me is eating thin wraps (the thinner the less kcal) with salmon or other protein fillings- since protein makes you full AND is necessary for weight loss and muscle gain. BTW don't you dare to eat less than that, it WILL hinder your weight loss, we need a certain amount of calories to work!!!!!!

Protein, you have to eat enough protein a day for this all to be lasting. I read you have to eat your bodyweight (kg) in grams of protein in a day. For example, back when I was 60kg, I had to eat 60g protein a day. But also don't beat yourself up over it if you don't get that amount daily, I didn't either, just try to whenever you can, and it'll help!

ADD your workout. I had an app that also counted my steps and automatically added the kcal I burned to my daily kcal app. It motivated me to move more because 10k steps is like 100kcal and that was 100kcal I could eat more even WHILE dieting.

Cheat meals. Important: MEAL not day, every Saturday or Sunday I had a cheat meal, sometimes even smth as big as a burger on TOP of my usual daily intake. It helps your metabolism and body to stop thinking you're starving (which makes weight loss slower) so it's not only helpful in case you're starving to eat more (bc ngl it WILL be hard until your stomach has shrinked a lil but you can do it if I did bby) but also helps your diet physically fr! So do these!!! Reward yourself for your hard work

"So does that mean I will 4ever have to count calories?" God no, I did it for over a year until I was sick of it myself. I went from 68kg down to 49kg, when I stopped counting I gained again ofc, but I still know now what contains how many calories and know by heart what I can eat and what I shouldn't. I am 52kg for months now and I don't gain anything more and even if I would, I would know now how to lose it again if it gets really bad. THAT WAS BASICALLY already it. I know not every day will be easy and sometimes you WILL mess up. The trick is not to beat yourself up over it and keep going! Wearing the cute clothes you always wanted to wear will be SO rewarding and worth it, at least it was for me. Disclaimer that I never had children, don't have diabetes, and am in my early 30ies so idk if this will work for everyone but it did for me, and if this just helps one soul my job here is already done!!

Me: Exercise does not cause weight loss. This is a fact that has been demonstrated so robustly in research that even doctors, who hate and fear evidence, are grudgingly starting to admit this.

Someone reading that post: Cool, but have you considered that exercise leads to weight loss?

Me: I am going to eat you

[katiascraft]

“26” | CL16 ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ

Parings: charles leclerc x ex!singer!reader

Summary: the world didn’t know you and Charles broke up a few months ago. it was until you haven’t been to any gp people started speculating. he finds some one new. Makes his dream com true. And you write an album about him reveling how you broke up and why.

“If it doesn’t go away by the time I’m 30 then I made a mistake and I’ll tell you I’m sorry”

Now playing: “21” by Gracie Abrams.

warnings: smau and angst. that’s it tbh :)

author’s note: idk if this makes sense but I hope it does lol. Don’t forget to like, comment or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

── .✦

yourusername made a post

liked by yourbff, taylorswift, shawnmendes, and 1,345,789 others

yourusername: guess it’s just me, myself and music 🐰 (new tunes coming soon)

view more comments

user89: queeennnn can’t wait!!!

charlesmylove: why isn’t charles liking y/n stuff anymore 😭

↳ user976: RIGHT that’s what I’ve noticed

↳ user435: girl don’t start being delusional prob Charles doesn’t use social media

↳ user21: I have the feeling they broke up

sabrinacarpenter: they are not ready for what’s coming 🤓

↳ yourusername: 🤫

shawnmendes: gonna be album of the year

lilyhme: prettiest girl in town now can be mine 💍

↳ yourusername: yours forever my love 💍

↳ charlesstan: WHAT DO YOU MEAN NOW WHAT

↳ user0923: guess she knows things we don’t

↳ y/nxtaylor: spill the tea sis 😭

↳ alexalbon: why you always wanna date your friends???

↳ lilymhe: they’re pretty

↳ alexalbon: and I’m not??? I AM YOUR BOYFRIEND

↳ georgerussel: love watching drama 🍿

↳ y/nstan: WHAT DO YOU KNOW?!

── .✦

#charles and #y/n are trending on twitter

── .✦

f1gossipofficial made a post

liked by user57, user1, y/nstan, charlesiloveu and others.

f1gossipofficial: rumors has it that our fave couple on the grid isn’t couple anymore! 💔 Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc was seen out and about with a mistery girl. The source confirmed it wasn’t y/n. Y/n was seen arriving to New York last Monday. The fan that met her told us she said in a conversation she’s been living there since last year! Guess they broken up late last year and kept it a secret! What do we thing about all of this????

view more comments

user34: WHAT THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE THEY LOOKED LIKE END GAME 😭😭😭

charlesstan: I’m dead

user975: tbh I didn’t like her for him

y/nstan: I liked Charles sm this is so sad

user0863: now I need y/n new music I NEED TO KNOW

user87: new music coming >>>> new break up song about Charles 😭

usrr12: who is that mistery girl? We need a further investigation

↳ f1gossipofficial: on it baby 🕵️

── .✦

yourusername uploaded a story

── .✦

charlesleclerc uploaded a story

── .✦

charlesleclerc made a post

liked by user572, yourusername, carlossainz55 and others.

charlesleclerc: WE FINALLY MADE IT! I won my home gp for the first time, wow! Thank you everyone, ferrari, the fans. Everyone. This was my dream and I can’t believe this is actually reality. So thrilled! This is for you dad, wish you were here to see it. Let’s celebrate and then focus on the next race! 💪🏻

view more comments

user86: he is so proud of you I promise 😭😭😭

charstan: congrats prince!! ✨

y/nstan: why is my woman on the likes ????

↳ user32: THATS WHAT I THOUGHT FIRST INTERACTION IN QLMOST A YEAR

carlossainz55: congrats hermano !!!!

landonorris: what a race mate!

lewishamilton: finally!! 👑

user678: so happy for you charlieeeee

arthurleclerc: ❤️❤️❤️

── .✦

you text your producer and best friend

── .✦

yourusername made a post

liked by user679, yourbff, sabrinacarpenter, charlesleclerc and 1,432,568 others

yourusername: here to finally tell you that my first single “26” for my next album is out!!! Made this album from the deep end of my heart. Hope you like it as much as I love it (and help me get through). link in bio 🧸

view more comments

yourbff: the most beautiful and saddest song I’ve ever heard 😭

lilymhe: GIRL I’m sobbing wtf

user256: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

User998: she really said let’s spill the tea

↳ user895: but i never thought it would be LIKE THIS 😭

landonorris: congrats @/yourusername !! On repeat for the rest of the month at least

↳ georgerussel: babygirl

georgerussel: thanks for the tea y/n! Beautiful song from a beautiful soul ❤️ we miss you

↳ yourusername: I miss you too 💔

↳ carlossainz55: wish you could come back some time again :(

shawnmendes: I cried I sobbed I screamed I died

sabrinacarpenter: the best artist of all time iloveu bestie ❤️‍🩹

User673: CHARLES LIKED 😭😭😭😭

── .✦

── .✦ FIN

Hope you liked it guys 💌 if you have any ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

[acindra]

Joe Hills and ZombieCleo from Hermitcraft

Cleo Doll Notes: -I'm undecided on the permanent positioning of the snakes still so I haven't pulled in all of the yarn tails yet. -The dress design was partially based on @weaselmcdiesel's art here. -I did try to make hats for the snakes but they ended up looking too undefined. -I could not figure out how to show a rib hole in a stuffed doll without making the doll much much bigger.

Joe Doll Notes: -The first time I intended to make a Joe doll it was going to be based around the various arts from Joe winning the mcyt sexyman tourney but time got away from me. -This time I intended to make Joe in the puppet style when the juppet was made (with the mouth neck and everything) but then the court case happened. -This Joe doll is specifically based on how @judas-iscaryot drew xem in this art because I am absolutely enamored with the design.

Bonus Sentimental Thoughts about Joe Under the Cut:

I've actually wanted to make Joe many times over the years since I found xem through Super Hostile in 2012. Xyr videos taught me how to play Minecraft and I've always wanted to commemorate that because it became such a big part of my life, I just didn't want to make Minecraft Steve with an @ on his shirt, yanno? Especially with how much xe has affected my attitude on life.

We talk about "keep jumping on boxes" a lot but the thing that always stuck out to me the most in the early years was Autumnification (and the other iterations of it). Just the concept that even in a static world you do not have to be beholden to that stasis- you can implement small changes to create a story or to do something nice for your community or even simulate the passage of time if you're willing to put in the effort. It really means a lot to me (especially with how the world is right now) to remember that even small changes build up into something bigger and can make a world of difference.

I hadn't been intending to make these dolls so soon but then the election happened and I found myself at a loss of how to handle it so I started crocheting. I'm so grateful to Joe (and Cleo) for streaming the TCG signing during those days. I'm almost never able catch the streams live nowadays (and xe has stopped letting us access vods, which I used to watch all the time) so I'm very glad I was able to listen to these ones because even if it was an awful realization how things were going it was comforting to know we aren't alone.

(Also don't get me wrong I have many sentimental thoughts about Cleo too I just wanted to share the Joe ones specifically because these dolls came about now due to xyr election day TCG signing stream)

[footygirl114]

Entrenadora (Alexia Putellas X Reader)

It has been absolutely forever since I have written anything, but this idea came to me and has been stuck ever since. I have more ideas for where this could go but would like to see if this idea is even interesting first. Please let me know what we think, as I fear I am washed up and my stories suck

Crouched down on the sideline, all you could do is watch as the #10 on your team cuts back across the top of the 18 shaking the defender and curls the ball into the top corner. You jumped up and could feel the bench behind you also jumping up and you watch on as the girls on the field surround the goal scorer as they celebrate. 

the feeling of your assistant coach slapping you on the back and say in“You were right the girls practicing the cutbacks paid off!” brings you back to the game at the moment. 

You smile and see the bench settle behind you and turn back to watch your team run back to get set for the kick off and you clap and yell out “come on girls, stay solid for 3 more mins, we got this!” 

The next few minutes pass by slowly, as you pace the sidelines occasionally yelling out instructions, but when the final whistle goes you can feel the relief settle in. You watch as the bench runs out on to the field and surround their goalie celebrating the semi final victory. You follow the team out and work your way through congratulating your players, but when your #10 who also happens to be your 10 year old niece wraps you in big hug you smile extra big. 

“That was a sweet goal Cami!” you tell her as she pulls back form you. 

“You taught me how to do that Tia!” she smiles up at you, and you cant help to pinch her cheek and she squeals and turns to celebrate with her teammates. 

You walk back towards the bench, after shaking the other teams coaches hands, and you start packing up your stuff and make sure the girls haven’t left anything lying about. You turn to get the girls to start cool downs, and you notice that your assistant coach has already got the team cooling down. 

Using the moment to stand there and think back on what you need to do for the afternoon prior to the final later in the evening. You fail to notice your brother come up behind you and squeeze your shoulders. 

You jump and turn to see him standing there and you whack him on the shoulder and say “you’re an ass.” 

He smirks and says “congrats on the win coach!” 

“Good thing you brought me in, you never would have got them to a final” you tease him with  smile. 

He chuckles and says “ouch, I wanted to coach but no parents were allowed.” 

“thank god you have such an awesome sister then” you smirk at him and move to gather your stuff as the team comes over to get their bags and move off the field. 

You cant help but smile at your big brother and your niece talking about the game as you follow them across the field. You follow them to your cars, and plans are made for the 3 hour window the team has before the final, to get the girls fed. You take a second to look at the schedule and see the other semi final is being played now and you decide to go and watch and scout the teams. 

You make your way towards the field the game is being played on and you find an empty spot towards a corner flag to stand in and watch. You are lost in the game that you don’t notice someone else coming to stand near you, and when you say something out loud about how stupid of a play that was you do not expect to hear a response. 

“si, I agree, would have been better to play the ball to the wing” the voice beside you says. 

You turn and see a stunning women, clad in Barcelona shorts and a half zip with a black ball cap on. It takes you a second but you finally respond with “or the ball should have been cycled back and not forced into a play.” 

“The centre back has a good range, she could have made a better attack” she says to you. 

The two of you go back and forth for the next few minutes before a goal is scored the way you both were just describing. You both laugh and you say to her “seems we both had a good grasp on the game.” 

“si, its refreshing to talk to someone who sees the game as a whole” she smiles at you. Before you can say anything else she asks “did you see that pass?”

“it was a waste of an opportunity” you reply back. It starts your conversation back up and you continue to discuss the tactics of the game in front of you. It lasts for the rest of the game, when your phone rings and its your brother calling and you turn to her and say “excuse me, I need to take this.” 

“I should go anyway, I enjoyed talking with you!” she says with a wink and she turns and moves away. 

You watch for a moment and walk the other way answering the phone to your brother, and you cant help but think that you would like to be able to talk to her again. When the time comes for your team to warm up, you completely forget about the conversation you had with the cute woman, and you focus fully on the game. 

When your team comes out the victors and after the celebrating dies down and you are standing in line waiting for the medal ceremony do you see her again. She is standing behind the convenor of the tournament with 2 other women dressed in the same outfit she’s wearing. You hear the convenor making a speech about the tournament and then introduces the 3 Barcelona Women players that are there to present the medals does it click who she is. 

You can feel the heat to your cheeks as you remember how you just spoke tactics with one of the best players in the world. You have to follow the team through the motions of getting the medals and you can barley look her in the eye as she places medal over your head. Luckily team pictures take priority and getting the team squared away takes up your team before you can continue to overthink it. 

When the madness dies down and a few people are left straggling around you find your self alone on the field. You are not alone for long when she steps up beside you and says “congratulations coach.”

You turn to her and say “Gracias, but my name is Y/N” as you turn to hold your hand out to her.

“Alexia” she says and shakes your hand with a smile. 

You try to ignore the tingling up your arm as she shakes it and you ask “Why didn’t you tell me who I was talking to earlier?”

She shrugged and says “does it matter? I enjoyed the tactics talk with someone who has the same view of the game as me.” 

“I mean I could have at least rolled out the red carpet, or maybe gone and watched some game play footage of how you move on the field” you chuckle back to her.

She smiles and says “Oh you would have watched me?” 

You shrug and say “for purely tactical reasons only.” 

She laughs out loud at that and says “can I take you for a drink to pick your brain about how my body moves?” 

“thats tempting for purely tactical reasons, but I promised my niece I would come celebrate the teams win with her tonight” You softly smile at her. 

She places her hand on your arm and smiles “you coach your nieces team here?” 

“si I do.” 

“thats very sweet of you” she squeezes your arm and continues “can we take a rain check?”

Nodding you move back a few steps to dig into your bag for your clipboard, and you write your number down and rip a piece off to hand to her and you say “call me for a rain check Alexia.” 

She smiles with a chuckle and says “I see what you did there, but I will be calling you for purely tactical reasons.” 

“I should go catch up with my niece.”

“you should” and she moves closer to you and press a kiss to your cheek and says “You’ll be hearing from me.” 

You watch as she jogs away to her other team mates and you move to meet your brother and niece in the parking lot. Your brother sees you coming and asks “what took you so long?” 

“Nothing, I was just taking it all in” you tell him with a smile. 

“mhm the blush on your cheek says otherwise baby sister.” he teases you and before you can swat at him he moves out of the way and says “now come on Cami is waiting for us.” 

***

The following morning as you are walking into your first class of the day you feel your watch buzz with a new message, you see it was an incoming message and you glance down quickly to notice it was an unknown number. Before you can read it you are at the door of your class room and you walk in and place your stuff down at the front podium. Looking up as you are connecting your laptop the lecture hall is about 3/4 full with 2 minutes to class to start. 

As your laptop boots up you can help but check your messages and you immediately can feel the smile and blush work the way up your cheeks. 

Unknown: Figured Id let you get a head start on the purely tactical reasons to watch me, and send you a link to the last goal I scored, I wont tell anyone if you watch it back a few times. But I would like to hear all about how my body moves from your perspective over dinner? 

Unknown: Also Hi, from the cute footballer you gave your number to, who would also like to be able to study how you move, again for purely tactical reasons ;)

[compostboy]

This isn't directed at OP, I just think it has to be said

You can also be the fascist shoehorning people into dehumanizing categories, I think we need to remind ourselves of that

I'm not going to talk about pedophilia being used as a weapon for queerphobia, people have done that better than me and will continue to do that.

What I want to bring up is the "zios" part here when... Historically that is exactly what has been used to persecute Jewish people, in Russia, Europe, America, West Asia, North Africa, leftist political circles? Like the logic absolutely did go "zionists should be murdered and tortured->jews and jewish expression are zionist->jews in general should be murdered and tortured" not an exaggeration, that ALREADY HAPPENED do you know how many died, fled, were prohibited from fleeing, went missing?

Wikipedia page for the fabricated "The Protocols of the Elder's of Zion"

Wikipedia for the Limerick Pogrom

Kyiv Pogrom

Shiraz Pogrom

1917 Jaffa Deportation

Pogroms during Russian civil war

More Kyiv Pogroms

Pinsk Massacre

Massena Blood Libel

Thrace Pogroms

Constantine Riots

Gabès Riots

Iași Pogroms

Tripolitania Riots

Egyptian Riot

Kielce Pogrom

Aleppo Riots

Oujda & Jerada Riots

Night of the Murdered Poets

Doctor's Plot & Anti-Zionism as antisemitism

Soviet Anti-Zionism(/Zionology)

Soviet Jewish History

Anti-Zionist Committee of the Soviet Public

Here are some of the things happening in the 1900's

you can find a timeline over 20th century antisemitism here

Here is a timeline of antisemitism throughout history

As you can see if you read through all of these events, antisemitism takes many shapes, and often the perpetrators will say "of course I'm not attacking Jews, I am attacking ___ (and willing to kill Jews if they are ___ which I assume they are without real evidence)"

The ___ can be anything

Child killer is a very common ___. Who wouldn't hate someone who killed a child? A poor innocent child, of a majority religion nontheless? If they kill children, surely then we can harass, assault, pillage, lynch and kill dozens or hundreds or thousands of them without trial?

That may seem like a sudden big leap in logic to many people but it keeps happening over and over and over and over again. Throughout history. It still does.

If you want your anti-zionism to NOT be antisemitic, you have to actually do the work and learn about all different kinds of antisemitism, Jewish history, and learn from Jewish people how to be an ally. And I'm not perfect! But I'm speaking out right now because I believe it's better to do something good imperfectly than to do nothing and stay silent

Very concerning to see that kind of talk.

You are not supporting the freedom of the Palestinian people by saying that kind of thing.

Focus on making sure people have food and aid and pressure your government to oppose the Israeli occupation and settlements. Build community without borders. Uphold international law and human rights. Criticize and protest against governments.

Do not start any kind of "jew hunt" or incentivize or participate in pogroms

Do not speak about political enemies as someone to sniff out, round up, and exterminate, no matter how vile you think their actions have been or values are

There is no upside to that kind of talk or action

Do something good by donating to Palestinian Children's Relief Fund instead

me in real life: torture and murder are horrible and you shouldn't do them.

me in fiction: torture and murder are literally the two sexiest and most fun things you could possibly do and you should do them all the time.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

If you’re still taking prompts, Tommy spending time with Maddie?

Oh I like this!

----

"At least this time it was planned." Maddie offered

"Yeah... And the nurse did say everything is going according to plan earlier."

"But you still worry."

"Yeah." Tommy chuckled. "I convinced him to get it done now so he'd be back on his feet by the time the little one starts walking."

Maddie smiled and rubbed her pregnant belly.

"Yeah I think he is looking forward to meeting his family. He's about to walk right out of there in a minute. Jee wasn't this restless."

"I guess he takes after his father then. I've never known Howie to be calm and relaxed." Tommy commented "Well... off the clock at least." he added after a beat and they both laughed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking bad hospital coffee and Tommy's eyes fixed on the door.

"What about you two?" Maddie asked.

"Hmm?"

Tommy reluctantly tore his eyes away from the door and looked at her.

"One of these." she gestured at her belly.

"I don't think either of us is at risk of getting pregnant any time soon." Tommy deadpanned and laughed when Maddie slapped his bicep.

"You know what I mean. Am I going to be an aunt any time soon?"

Tommy sat up straighter and played with the lid of his coffee cup.

"We've talked about it. Marriage, kids... the whole nine yards... and we want the same things..."

"But..." Maddie prompted.

"But... not just yet." Tommy shook his head. "We've only been back together about six months. And the last time we rushed into things it didn't go so well. So one step at a time for now."

"Isn't he moving in with you when he's discharged?"

"Yeah but that's because he's going to need a lot of help. Especially the first few months. And those stairs in the loft are lethal."

"He managed before..."

"Maybe. But he doesn't have to anymore now. I have a bedroom and a bathroom on the ground floor at my place and the stairs aren't so damn steep, he can easily manage them with crutches if needed."

Suddenly the door opened and one of the doctors walked up to them.

"Evan Buckley's family?"

Tommy was on his feet in seconds.

"That's right. How is he?"

The doctor gave him a tired smile.

"The operation was a success. No complications. Straight out of the medical text books."

"So he's ok?"

"He has a long road to recovery ahead of him, but I don't see why he shouldn't make a full recovery in due time." The doctor told them. "He'll still be asleep for a while, but one of the nurses will come get you when they've gotten him settled back in, in his room and you can sit with him."

Tommy let out a sigh of relief while Maddie thanked the doctor before they left the two of them to it again.

"He's ok." Maddie said, slipping her arm through Tommy's. "He's ok."

About ten minutes later a nurse came to get them and took them to Buck's room. He was still fast asleep but apart from a pulse oximeter on his finger and a cast on his leg, he looked just like he would on a regular day at home.

Tommy sat down next to the bed and softly brushed the curls off his forehead, while Maddie sat down on the other side and held Buck's hand in hers.

"You know he always hated that?"

"Hated what?"

"His curls. People playing with them." Maddie explained. "I used to do it when he was little but when he got old enough to pick his own hairstyle, the curls were gone and everyone was forbidden to touch his hair. I think I still have some pictures of when he gave himself a haircut when he was about 12 or 13."

Tommy grinned.

"If you can still find them, I'd love to see them."

"I'll get Howie to look for them." Maddie promised. "But what I'm trying to say is... he's changed since he met you. For the better."

"I did tell him I liked the curls once... He hadn't had time to get a haircut in a while and his hair was getting longer and the curls just made him look... soft." Tommy smiled, running his hands through Buck's hair.

Maddie smiled.

"Not just the hairstyle. Or wearing clothes in his actual size instead of at least two sizes too small." She laughed. "But he's... more comfortable in his own skin. He's content. Happy in a way I've never seen him before. And that's down to you."

"I don't know about that..." Tommy ducked his head.

"I do." Maddie insisted. "You're good for him. You're good for each other."

Buck began to stir and groaned as he opened his eyes. He rolled his head to the side and smiled when he saw Tommy.

"Hey you." Tommy said and got up to press a kiss to the top of his head. "Welcome back. How are you feeling?"

"Hmokay... better when the room stops spinning... and there's only one of you. is my leg still there?" he reached out to touch his leg and then realised someone was holding his hand. He turned his head and saw his sister. "Maddie!" he said happily, like he hadn't seen her in years.

"Hi." she giggled and squeezed his hand. "They've got you on the good stuff, huh."

"They fixed my leg." he explained. "Tommy said I should do it now. For the baby." He frowned. "Not our baby." He turned his head back to the other side to look at Tommy. "You're not having a baby... right?"

Tommy bit his lip to stop himself from laughing.

"No, no I'm not. But your sister is."

Buck turned back to Maddie.

"You're having a baby?" he asked, and then noticed her pregnant belly. "You're having a baby! Wait... i-is that Tommy's baby?"

"What? No!" Maddie said and both her and Tommy burst out laughing. "I don't think I'm really his type."

"Yeah, sorry, I prefer the other Buckley." Tommy said laughingly.

Buck frowned.

"Who?"

"You." Tommy told him and softly kissed him. "I'm going to get a nurse. Let them know you're awake. I'll be right back." He got up and left the room with Buck looking at him with a dopey smile that wasn't just the anaesthetic.

"I love him." Buck declared, still looking at the door.

Maddie smiled and gave his hand another squeeze.

"I know. He loves you too."

"Yeah? Yeah!" Buck replied answering his own question. "I'm going to marry him. I have a ring." he said, just as Tommy came back in with a nurse.

"Hello mister Buckley, glad to see you awake." the nurse told him as she quickly checked him over. "The operation went well, and you should be able to go home in a few days."

Buck nodded and turned to Maddie.

"You need to call Eddie for me. He has the ring. I need it... for Tommy. I'm going to marry him."

"I'll call him." Maddie promised. sharing a look with Tommy over the bed.

"Good. I'm just... sleep..." Buck mumbled as he started to drift off again.

"He probably won't remember this conversation when he wakes up again." the nurse told them. "I'm guessing you're Eddie?" she asked Tommy who shook his head.

"I'm Tommy. And I guess I better start working on my surprised face."

---

send me a prompt and I'll write you a fic(let)!