#but my coworker was like 'he was totally staring at you' like be so serious rn you cant just tell me this shit

[tidalpools]

having a crush makes me feel like such a freak this has to stop...

[celuere]

Greetings !! Not sure if your reqs open so I apologize if they are not !! could you maybe write dating hcs for feixiao ? ^^ I love her dearly so I would love to see your perspective on her♡

Hi pooks! Dw for as long as you can request stuff on my page, they’re open <3!

But dating hc for our beloved general… aondlsndksnekwne I think being in a relationship with Feixiao would be like- so soft? I imagine her to be such a lovely partner it makes me SICK.

cw: sfw, FLUFF. UGH., feixiao is a goner for you.

Always. And I mean ALWAY. Properly bids her farewell to you before she goes off to yet another mission of hers. Kissing you gently on your lips as she holds you close to her, nose nuzzled into your hair while whispering the promise of her return against it. She will always make it back to you. No matter what.

Keeps a picture she secretly took of you while you were asleep in her pocket. Taking it out whenever you’re not within an arms reach. Especially when on the battlefield to remind herself of the various reason why exactly she took that weapon into her hand.

Moze is so sick of her. You are everything her ass is talking about. The advertisement on her phone? Oh, it’s the movie you‘ve been anticipating for so long! Walking by a clothing shop? Hold on, just let her fetch this beautiful shirt she spotted in your favorite color!

Goodness, you love your girlfriend. You really do. But she has that tick where she HAS to always visit you after training. Not showered. SWEATING! She quite literally doesn’t get why you refuse to be near her whenever she pulls that stunt. She doesn’t even sweat that much. (She will hug you anyways and laugh at your misery as you try to get out of her arms.)

Walking in on her training? Biceps and trained abs on full display? Oh, just let her wipe the sweat off of her face with the bottom of her shirt. TOTALLY not to further expose herself to you. The sudden pull-ups she has to do are also purely coincidental. Whaaaaaat? Her trying to impress you further??? What are you thinking?

Will try to postpone her meetings for as long as possible when you spend the night together. Which is actually very unusual for her. But who doesn’t love wasting time in bed in the morning with your beloved?

Had a hard day? Just send her a message and she will be there in a matter of minutes, a bouquet of flowers and your favorite snack in hand before she pulls you to bed with her. You will be spoiled rotten tonight.

But when she had a hard day? She‘s just knock at your door. Not greeting you with a tight hug and a passionate kiss on the lips as usual. She‘d just leave out a sigh as she pulls you into a soft embrace, face buried in your neck as the two of you just stand there. There is no need for words to be exchanged. You just gently run your fingers through her messy hair, allowing her to at least leave her guard down every once in a while.

Will take you on dates with her starskiff. She‘d even get you extra out of bed if the sky i pretty enough in her opinion. Legs dangling off the edge as the both of you stare up at the starry sky, finger intertwined, trying to make out various constellations and even making up your own which always ends up with the both of you laughing your ass off at the ridiculous names you come up with

I can perfectly imagine Feixiao to have a S/O that is so utterly normal compared to her, like a nurse at the hospital for example or a receptionist at a local hotel, maybe even the owner of a flower shop. Someone who gives her a break from the constant pressure of the Merlin‘s Claw and the battlefield.

Is going to use every excuse under the sun to visit you at work whenever she has free time to spare, „you forgot this at my place yesterday“- MY ASS. She is just a lost puppy without her beloved. It‘s gotten to a point where even your coworkers stopped being serious about it, they tease you 24/7.

Moze knows better than to fuck around whenever you are with her. He tried it once and it was the first time Feixiao ever got pissed off with him. And also the last time.

her camera roll is 80% pictures of you. All kinds. Sleeping. Eating. Working. Reading. She takes pictures of you ALL the time wether you notice it or not. And every week she has a different lockscreen, she just cannot decide between all the beautiful pictures!!!

Doing something attractive for example maybe some garden work or kneeling underneath the table to clean? Expect to be nearby with a book in her hand. Upside down. She is a very invested reader.

Drunk Feixiao. Will be the end of you. Clinging desperately to you as she counts every single beauty mark on your face while you TRY your best to get this muscle mountain changed into her sleepwear until she eventually just straight drops dead asleep into your chest.

[luveline]

HI!!! so i am obsessed with your reader x coworker james first kiss fic. can we maybe get something about what came after? like how were the interactions the day or week after, how did they behave around each other, did james tell the boys or was he too nervous?

—you and James maintain a facade that Remus sees through

James wheels his chair to be as far from you as possible. He leans back, turns his monitor. Through the gap, he has a perfect window of your face without it being obvious that he’s staring. Well, sort of. 

Stop staring. 

James reads Remus’ slack message in surprise. He glances at you, finds you still snacking on chocolate covered somethings less covertly than you mean to be, and decides to grace his friend with a message back. 

Nope 

James, Remus messages. 

I’m not really staring 

You’re staring. She can definitely tell 

James looks back to you, hoping to prove Remus wrong, but you’re staring straight at him. He has the instinct to look away and the sense not to, charmed into grinning when you squint at him, your mock suspiciousness adorable. 

“James,” Remus says, clearing his throat. 

James pulls his gaze away reluctantly. “What?” 

“Can you answer my email?” 

The email isn’t an email, but another slack message. Are you serious right now? You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried 

James flicks a pen lid at him. “Obvious about what?” he mouths. 

You get up and stretch, tactically failing to meet anyone’s eyes as you pick up your empty glass of water and leave. 

“James, what’s going on?” 

“What ever could you mean, my love?” 

Remus rolls his chair toward. “Don’t flirt with me. I’m serious, what the hell is going on with you? You’re supposed to hate the girl.” 

“Hate is such a strong word.”

“Well, you’re being a bit much no matter what.” 

James bites his cheek in a hurry to straighten up. “You think so?” 

Remus just stares at him.

James has done a fantastic job at keeping your kiss a secret. He doesn’t know how, mind you —you kissed him, you kissed him, you asked if you could and you kissed him like a sweetheart with the softest mouth he’s ever had the fortune to feel pressed against his own. 

Since your kiss, he’s been feeling weirdly poetic. He totally gets all those Carol Ann Duffy poems they made him read at school now. 

One day without telling anybody is impressive, at least to his own standards. “I know what I’m doing,” he says. 

Remus frowns. “I’d love to be informed on what exactly that is.” 

“Certain events have transpired and convinced me that I was quite wrong to have judged our girl so harshly.”

“Certain events?” 

“I’m allowed some mystery,” James says, before smiling so hard it makes him squint and his cheeks apple. He rubs at his face roughly in an attempt to move forward, but he remembers the way your kiss had melded from soft and shy to hungry. Fuck, he loved it. He needs another one. He has no idea how to get it. “Ugh, I’m gonna go get my lunch from the fridge.” 

“Sure you are. Alright, well, I’m gonna find Sirius and maybe he can convince you to start acting normal again.”

James goes to the kitchen first but abandons his charade when you aren’t there. He grabs his lunch, tucking it under his arm as he makes his way through to the break room. You’re thankfully, blissfully, sitting by the open window with a shop-bought salad. 

He nods at the chair across from you. “Can I sit?” 

“Yes.” 

“That’s all you're eating?” he asks. A little tray of salad is hardly enough to keep you going until the end of the day. “I have gyoza chilli noodle soup, it’s amazing.” 

“You’re gonna eat it cold?” you ask. 

He leans forward, elbows on the table, holding your gaze. “No, but I’m busy right now.” He needs time to look you over. Every time he realises how pretty you are is like another beat of his capering pulse. 

“Don’t harass me.” 

“I’m not harassing you.” 

“What would you call this?” You stab a few pieces of lettuce onto your fork. “I can’t have much more for dinner, I just had half a packet of chocolate covered strawberries.” 

“Don’t say that, like some snacks and a salad are more than you’re allowed. Here, I'll warm this up and you can share. You’ll really like it, the gyoza are amazing.” 

“So what, you’re gonna take care of me now?” you ask. You’re teasing, but there’s a slight edge of bitterness to it like you believe what you’re saying. James is swift to set that right, though he stays speaking in tongues with you.

“I’ve been trying to.” James can hear footsteps at the doorway, and besides, you’re right, he’s being too nice. He sucks in an unbothered breath. “Whatever, loser, stick to your sad salad.” 

Your eyes widen. “I don’t want your cold soup, you idiot.” 

Sirius and Remus filter in with one of your coworkers just behind them. “I thought you said he was being weird?” Sirius asks. “He seems pretty normal to me.” 

Remus sighs forlornly, prompting a side hug from his boyfriend as he shepherds him to the table where you and James are sitting.

“He’s always being weird,” you say. 

James kicks your foot gently. You pick through your salad with a poorly concealed smile. 

[may-stuff]

Thoughts on jealous!franco?

He's a totally different person when he's jealous. The usual smile on his face, the yapping, the energy? Gone.

His arms are wrapped around your waist and you giggle as you try to make him understand that everything is alright and that person didn't know you had a boyfriend, that's why they tried to flirt with you. But his face is completely serious and he keeps staring at said person who dared to talk to you, to touch your exposed shoulder. He's furious. Not at you, obviously, you did nothing wrong. But at that person who couldn't see that you're his.

Also, he'd do some stupid shit when he's jealous. I've got this scenario in my mind where you're on the phone with a person who is either your classmate or coworker, someone who you have to interact with but aren't close to; but that person has a crush on you and you've rejected them a few times but they don't seem to understand the meaning of the word 'no'

So that afternoon you're on the phone with them because of a project or whatever. You're sitting on the couch, wishing the conversation ends soon, and this person basically starts asking you out for the 100th time, the planning of the project being the perfect excuse. You keep refusing and they insist until Franco enters the room, asks you if the asshole is still insisting and when you say yes, he kneels in front of you and without a warning takes your shorts and underwear off. You try to protest but he spreads your legs easily, before continuing he tells you to keep talking on the phone.

Then he simply starts working between your legs. Everything is soft at first; he kisses and licks your inner thighs, then kisses and licks all around your slit, and when your breathing becomes more erratic, he simply starts eating you out. Also kissing, licking, spitting on your cunt until you're incredibly wet, and then his pretty lips are wrapped around your clit, suckling vigorously. And you're a mess, you're trying to hold every moan in but you simply can't. You try to tell the person on the other side of the phone that you need to go but they keep talking and talking and talking until you feel Franco's long fingers inside of you and you can't help the moan that comes out of your mouth.

The other person goes silent and then asks you if you're okay, but the phone is laying on the couch and you're gone in the feeling of Franco's fingers inside you. So, being the amazing boyfriend he is, he grabs the phone and, as he keeps fingering you, he greets the annoying person that's been bothering you for so long.

He moves his fingers deeper, making you moan uncontrollably, as he says something like, "Sorry, dude, she can't talk right now. Her boyfriend is fingering her so good that she's actually about to cum." And the moment he says that, you do, you cum. Hard. You're a moaning mess and he lets the other person hear you for a few seconds and then he ends the call.

When you go back to college/work the next day, the person is nowhere to be found. And you actually don't see them ever again.

Sorry this was so long lmao

[thriftedtchotchkes]

switching the positions

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food

word count: 16.2k

moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡

a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

SUNDAY

"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not gonna hate you.”

Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away. 

Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.

“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.

“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.

“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?” 

He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.

“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”

Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it. 

“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?” 

You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.

“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”

He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.” 

So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.

MONDAY

"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."

It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.

You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays. 

Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.

Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—

And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets. 

It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief. 

“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.

His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.

You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.

Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life. 

But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again. 

“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.” 

The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately. 

“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.

“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”

Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.

“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.

"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.

"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"

You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect. 

The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.

You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.

"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."

He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.

Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most. 

You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.

"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."

"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."

So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.

Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—

Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.

"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."

A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth. 

"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.

"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—

The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.

"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."

You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.

Neither of you makes it to work on time.

TUESDAY

"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."

The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.

You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.

“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.

“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.

“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.

“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.

“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless. 

It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too. 

“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her. 

It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself. 

You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.

“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack. 

…Wait. She’s leaving?

“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”

“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”

You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder. 

“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!” 

And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.

You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?

Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.

Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best. 

Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.

The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.

There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship. 

Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.

Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.

You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good. 

You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise. 

“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”

Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit. 

Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.

And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.

“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”

He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen. 

“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.

“Good. It’s dinner time.”

WEDNESDAY

"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."

Spin class sucks.

There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.

It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this. 

It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun. 

But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.

No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it. 

There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.

The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative. 

It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.

Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.

Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him. 

What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats. 

Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you. 

That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.

The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are. 

Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all. 

You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.

"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"

You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far. 

On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.

It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.

“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."

Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core. 

You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.

Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.

"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"

His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it. 

Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.

Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.

"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."

And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars. 

Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful. 

Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—

But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.

"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"

Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.

"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.

You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.

"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.

"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.

"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine." 

Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him. 

You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.

All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—

But he's got one last edge left in him. 

You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.

He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.

"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively. 

Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you. 

But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.

You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.

"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need. 

You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs. 

Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?

But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself. 

Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.

“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."

You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?

"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.

He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.

"Wanna explain what all of that was?"

"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."

"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense. 

You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.

"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"

"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!" 

But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.

"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.

"That's okay. We won't need one."

THURSDAY

"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"

Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.

You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.

How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.

Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.

It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option. 

Two blue lines. Pregnant.

You knew this week was going a little too well. 

Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.

Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought. 

Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this. 

It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.

There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.

Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point. 

You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before? 

Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight. 

Fuck.

Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.

But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar. 

Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?

No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.

If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable. 

Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.

So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken. 

Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.

“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”

She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken. 

“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”

“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”

The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.

Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.

It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.  

"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"

Yeah, you could say that.

You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.

"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you. 

His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you. 

Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering. 

That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.

Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.

But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.

His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.

His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm. 

But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.

“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.

“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”

Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.

The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.

“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells. 

“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”

“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone. 

Together. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”

FRIDAY

"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."

Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.

You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk. 

“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.” 

You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.

Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer. 

Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that. 

You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up. 

Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes. 

Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur. 

Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time. 

You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.

Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.

Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.

“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand. 

But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer. 

“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”

You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck. 

“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips. 

Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans. 

You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere. 

Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.

But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”

You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.

“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want, baby."

Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction. 

Now, you want something else. 

You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either. 

His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all. 

Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.

"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."

Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken. 

Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration. 

He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.

Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie. 

"Should ya be doin' that right now?" 

There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.

"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"

The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.

"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"

You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.

"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."

"Deal," he says without hesitation.

"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening. 

He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.

"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."

Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.

"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart. 

You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.

Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open. 

"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit. 

Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast. 

Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap. 

"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"

You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—

Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically. 

"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.

What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now. 

And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.

Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric. 

He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.

"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."

"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."

He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.

"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."

But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.

"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.

You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something. 

"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his. 

You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation. 

"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now." 

Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.

His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back. 

So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.

"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.

"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."

Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead. 

"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."

Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough. 

Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.

“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you. 

It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.

But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.

"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.

Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.

Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.

And still so mouthy.

“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”

"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?" 

It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.

"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."

Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight. 

His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.

“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”

“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?” 

Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.

“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”

SATURDAY

"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."

You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.

And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.

Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content. 

He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs. 

That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.

But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.

He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.

His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once. 

Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you. 

"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens. 

"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"

You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers. 

Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.

"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.

"Huh?" you ask dumbly. 

"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh. 

"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.

"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"

And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.

God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.

Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.

"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."  

Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath. 

You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement. 

He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you. 

But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.

You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.

“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"

Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.

“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”

Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.

Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves. 

His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip. 

The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him. 

And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat. 

You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.

"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."

How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.

Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite. 

But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment. 

And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking. 

Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.

“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”

It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.

At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.

His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again. 

Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation. 

Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.

Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.

“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach. 

Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.

"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away. 

His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.

It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives. 

“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.” 

You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.

“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”

He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.

You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful. 

When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free. 

Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.

Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.

Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.

He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately. 

After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.

"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."

The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache. 

You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.

Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth. 

"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."

He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.

“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."

You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.

Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.

"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"

Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that. 

His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does. 

Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.

You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would. 

And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.

You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could. 

It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

thanks for reading! 💕

[thrillered]

'You Know I Mountain Dew It For Ya" | Spencer Agnewx F!Reader | Pt. 3: You blew up.

I hope you guys like this part! I struck inspiration.

-

-

-

-

You chose to ignore your phone the next morning, putting on do not disturb and opting to put on a record while you got ready and popping in a CD on the way to work. You walked into the office, putting on a smile as you greeted people on your way to the kitchen to get a coffee.

 Normally you were one of the first people in the office, making a large pot of coffee so that it was hot and ready for your coworkers. Today, however, you didn’t have a morning meeting or shoot block so you didn’t have to come in until 11. It was a little ritual you had begun the year prior. On days where you didn’t have to be in early you would stay offline until absolutely needed. It was a welcome break from your constant social presence. 

Your morning had been so peaceful, little did you know that online, things were very different. Your song blew up on both tiktok and twitter. You had amassed more than 500,000 streams just the first night. 

You were walking to your desk, iced coffee in hand when someone grabbed it from your hand, placing it on the nearest surface. Before you could blink you were swinging around, being lifted by strong arms, in a suffocating hug, a squeal escaping your lips. You recognized who it was almost instantaneously, the familiar scent of amber and citrus embracing you.

“Well good morning to you too” You laughed to Spencer as he set you down. 

“Good morning? Just good? It’s a fantastic morning! Nay! A Stupendous morning!”

“Okay wow, this is some positivity,” You laughed, “What’s got you so bright eyed and bushy tailed?”

“Are you absolutely serious Y/N?” He raised his eyebrows so high you could imagine them flying right off his forehead. “Have you not looked at literally anything this morning?” 

“No, I never do on late mornings, you know that Spence.” 

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous,” He began, pulling out his phone, “Look at this Y/N, this is insane.” 

You looked at his screen, becoming suddenly dizzy at the words in front of you. 567 thousand streams of Espresso. You stared, swallowing thickly before emitting a loud “What the fuck?!” 

“You’re also trending on twitter and tiktok!” Spencer continued, your mind still not believing the number you had read. “Dude, you might have been famous for smosh but.. Now you're just famous, like really famous.” 

It was like the most intense high of your life. You had never had a song blow up like this, god, you had never had a song do even a 10th as good as this. You were sitting on cloud nine, this is what nirvana must feel like you thought. 

Then your stomach sank. If there were maybe 100 comments about Spencer last night, there had to be thousands now… 

You may have fucked up. On one hand your music career might take off like you’ve always dreamed! On the other hand you’re gonna have to discuss this with Spencer and that means confronting your own feelings which is not ideal.

“I need to use the bathroom.” You muttered before running off to the single bathroom, leaving Spencer more confused than he’s ever been, and that’s saying something.

 Shutting and locking the door behind you, you took a long deep breath. You leaned against the door and unlocked your phone, turning off the do not disturb to a bombardment of notifications. Friends, family, fans, everyone was texting, tagging, and tweeting you. You were overjoyed at the love your song was receiving. People were tagging you in the most loving reviews and giving the highest appreciation for the song. 

You were just scrolling, reading tweet after tweet in the “Espresso” and “Y/N from Smosh” Tag. you retweeted a post from a smosh fan account saying “I know Y/N from smosh. You know Y/N from Espresso… we are not the same”. You laughed before switching to tik tok and going through some of your notifications. You would never be able to see every video, there were just too many. You were totally engrossed, the real world fading away. Until a loud knock startled you out of your trance.

“Y/N I don’t know if you're having a crisis or what but I need to pee and you have a shoot.” Amanda’s voice yelled through the door. 

You unlocked and opened the door, seeing that half an hour had gone by. “I am so sorry Amanda, I don’t know how I spent so much time in there.” You laughed.

“You’re good honey,” She laughed, walking past you into the bathroom, “Oh and huge congrats on the song, that’s really cool, we’re all really proud of you.” 

You gave her a sweet smile before rushing to the sound stage. You were doing an episode of reddit stories with Shayne and Spencer, this week's theme was missing, it featured stories about missed connections, missed chances, and missed hints. 

“You okay?” Shayne asked as you walked into the set, heading over to get your mic. 

“Yeah of course, just got a little overwhelmed is all.” you smiled. 

“I can understand that, there’s a lot of attention on you right now, but it looks like a lot of love so that’s good,” He began, soothing your nerves, “Plus right now you get to hear about some idiots with your two favorite idiots.” he laughed. 

“Yeah, you're right, thank you Shayne.” You laughed with him.

“We’re all really proud of you though Y/N” Shayne finished, pulling you into a comforting hug. “Alright let’s get this shit going.” 

The stories were crazy, as always. Though, it was almost hard to focus on what Shayne was saying with Spencer so close. Your realization that you would have to confront your own feelings made it feel almost suffocating to be so close but so casual with him. You thought that if you got too close he would be able to feel your heartbeat or read your mind. You focused on channeling your professionalism and got through the video smoothly, you just hoped it didn’t look weird on camera. 

–

You kind of wanted to avoid Spencer. Your feelings were weird and they were strong, you weren’t sure what to do. Unfortunately you were supposed to be doing a livestream for the games channel at 3 pm and Spencer would, of course, be there. You and Courtney were supposed to play the Sims4. You were gonna be making your sim and dressing her before adding her to the smosh save. 

You and Courtney were sitting at the desk, chatting as you fixed your hair while waiting for the stream to start. Focused on your conversation with Court about how excited she was to show you the sim she had made of you, you hadn’t noticed the chat on the ‘stream starting soon’ screen. 

Everyone was talking about Espresso. Talking about how good it is, how it’s stuck in their heads, asking if there's gonna be a music video, asking for a comment on the ‘Spenspresso’ (as twitter so kindly named) allegations, etc. 

Soon enough Alex let you know your mics were being turned on and the stream was starting.

“Oh my goodness, are we live??” You asked, now glancing at the chat, turning immediately a deep shade of red. “Oh god” 

Courtney immediately realized what you were seeing and tried to change the subject of the chat by introducing the stream and talking about how you were gonna be put into the sims world. It did very little to stop the constant talk about your song. 

Spencer showed you a note from off camera, “You should just talk about it a little.” It read. You nodded before speaking. “Okay let’s address the elephant in the room… I’m wearing my hair differently” You joked, making the room laugh. “No actually, okay, thank you guys for all the love on Espresso, It’s actually so nutty how much you guys like it. However! I will be doing a live stream on my instagram to talk about it sometime today or tomorrow! So, hold your questions! Now let's sims!” You exclaimed.

That seemed to do the trick. The chat mostly switched to talking about the stream, and if the comment was about your music it was relevant to designing your character. 

Courtney did a really good job, the sim looked so much like you, almost unnervingly so. You guys had so much fun trying to style your sim, compromising with the chat by making your party outfit popstar inspired. You added your sim to the world, asking the chat what you should do.

“Spencer’s already with Shayne, they literally have a kid, Y/N can’t get with him, duh!” Courtney said, responding to a comment suggesting making you flirt with Spencer. 

A “Damn it!” could be heard off camera, Spencer nudging your foot with his own as he said it. You both joked about the ship of you two. Yet, you couldn’t help but blush and wish that he truly meant it though. His words didn’t go unnoticed by the chat either, opening a whole new can of worms.

The rest of the stream went by much smoother than you expected. You only realized you had promised an instagram live after the stream had ended. This meant you would have to say something about the Spenspresso conspiracies, and how they might not be conspiracies afterall. You would do it tomorrow, you decided. You already had a half day planned tomorrow for an appointment so it gave you time to do it anyway. 

You only had the stream left for the day so you went back to your desk once it ended, packing up your stuff in preparation to leave. 

“You heading out?” Spencer asked, walking over to you, his laptop tucked under his arm. 

“Yep, I’m done for the day.” You explained curtly, hoping to get out of a conversation and home before you word vomited a love confession. Hoping he was satisfied with your answer, you sidestepped him, throwing your bag over your shoulder before muttering a “See ya later Spencer” before swiftly walking to the exit, not stopping to say goodbye to anyone. Which was very unlike you. You were such a sociable person, you always said hello and goodbye to most of the office every day, it was something Spencer liked about you. He enjoyed your extroverted nature, it helped him to be more outgoing. 

He knew there was something wrong. You always give Spencer a hug goodbye, even if he was going to be meeting you at your house in 20 minutes. You barely spoke a word to him all day unless necessary. Not to mention you running away and shutting up in the bathroom this morning. He wondered if he did something to upset you but he couldn’t think of anything. You were together the night prior and were celebrating so he couldn’t imagine he did anything wrong. 

But he was determined to figure it out.

[where-ismydonkey]

DCA PROMPTOBER - DAY 3

GOOGLY EYES

"Sun, we need to have a serious talk." you walked up to him one morning, arms crossed. It was too early for any parents or children, but they'd be arriving soon. So you needed to have your talk with him either now, or never.

Well maybe not never, but later in the day would be such a drag.

The bot was too busy rearranging a nearby tower of blocks to pay attention to you, though. He was sat on the floor, staring intently at the wooden structure as one hand reached out and placed another block on top. His other hand tapped a rhythm against the mat, "Good morning to you too, and I'm surprised you're capable of such a thing."

"Huh, snark before the morning even starts," you noted as you approached him, before settling across the robot on the floor. His rays, fluttering like always, stuck out from behind the tall blocks as you sat cross legged. You smiled and said, "Anymore and I'd say you're deflecting."

Sun was unfazed as he picked up another block, "Humor me for a moment, and let me know what on earth I would be deflecting?"

You squared your shoulders, staring at him like it was obvious, "Uh, I dunno? The fact that Claire informed me you requested for seventeen boxes of googly eyes! Which is obviously not in her already batshit budget for the daycare, so would you like to pay for them or should I?"

He placed the block on top of the current stack, "Well, if you're offering—"

"Finish that sentence and I'm telling the children it's slime day."

"Your threat is ineffective," Sun scoffed and waved you off, "You would also have to clean up afterward."

"Not if I leave, I don't," you stuck your tongue out. He huffed, and you added seriously, "But come on, what the hell?"

"Language!" he chided. And he hesitated for a second until he admitted, "And if you must know, I wanted to order them for arts and crafts."

"Well, no shit."

"Language!" he scolded, exasperated.

"Fine, fine," you sighed, and realized he had shifted to fully face you. Moving over to meet his gaze, without anything in between you two, you rose an eyebrow, "But seventeen boxes?"

"I thought it would be nice for the children and Moon and I. We'd like something to pass the time too," he went on, "And since we typically aren't allowed anything for ourselves, we thought..."

You furrowed your eyebrows as he trailed off. And contemplatively, you frowned. The next words to come out of your mouth would not be good for your bank account.

But they were your coworkers and since you saw them everyday, the two of them being sad wasn't an option. If only for your piece of mind, you would help him and Moon out. Yeah, that made sense.

Totally.

"So, I dunno about seventeen boxes," you began unsurely, "But, uh, maybe I can help with a few?"

Sun went quiet. But it took you longer to realize since he couldn't move his face, and you were waiting for his response. But the perpetual motion of his rays halted, and instead silence took over the playroom. Almost completely, as you two continued to stare at one another.

And it wasn't until you awkwardly coughed, however many minutes later, that you tried to joke, "Hey, anyone in there?"

"Hm?" like lightning, he shot up straight. And his rays spun once more as he sputtered, "Yes, we'd like—That would be nice—Thank you."

Weird, you'd never seen him like that.

"You're welcome." you said, observing his suddenly jittery movements. And he was quick to reach over for another block, intent on continuing the stack. And from where you sat you held back a smile, because what was some money for a few boxes of googly eyes and happiness?

—

WOOO DAY THREE!!! i just started typing and ended up with this, and im pretty happy with it hehe. and alas i work tomorrow but im gonna try my hardest to keep up with this!!!

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Red Dead Redemption 2 College AU !

I'm ignoring reqs for a bit to indulge in my own thoughts and ideas and write some hcs for my college au on what i think their majors/lives as students/professors would be like, ahem... Long post ahead. Also this isn't too well thought out as of now, just wrote down some fun thoughts. Plz tell me your own headcannons

Arthur Morgan - Fine Arts

THE MOST UNEXPECTED MAJOR FOR A GUY LIKE HIM. He's the guy who's seen around campus wearing leather jackets, riding his motorcycle, brooding over a cup of coffee while he stares off aimlessly into the sky. So imagine him walking into your visual arts class with some of the most beautiful drawings you've ever seen. Has his own apartment near campus and his roommate is Charles. Entire place is littered with sketches and art supplies and billions of projects. His hands are constantly stained with charcoal. Takes his major VERY seriously, he don't play about his drawings and paintings. Works at a college bar and constantly comes home with a new story. Frequently visits John and the others after joining the frat, especially when they have parties. Never misses out on those. Became friends with Lenny through these parties.

John Marston - Civil Engineering

Probably one of the most miserable engineering majors you'll ever see. And that's only because he doesn't stress out over his work and procrastinates like he hasn't a care in the world; seemingly forgets he's in college. That is until the deadline is 11:59 PM that night and he has to cram two weeks worth of assignments into one night. Complains about heart palpitations when the area surrounding his desk is littered with energy cans. Joined a fraternity as soon as possible and lives in the housing. Party animal, drinks on weekdays with Sean and Javier. Throws absolute ragers on the weekends. Is the guy to yell "IF YOU'RE NOT PART OF THIS FRAT, THEN GET THE FUCK OUT" before turning to you and asking if you had fun. Has missed his 9 AM several times because he either slept in or is hung over. Was probably community dick for a while. Works at McDonald's part time, people genuinely don't know how he handles the stress. 60% of his paycheck goes to liquor/alcohol.

Javier Escuella - Music Theory

PASSIONATE about his major. HE DON'T PLAY ABOUT HIS MUSIC. But I can totally see him as the type of dude to sit around on the campus lawn with a guitar as a group of girls surrounds him and listens to him play. Is in the frat with John and lives in it as well. Also plays his guitar at parties with girls surrounding him, starkly contrasting the EDM and house music in the background. Shows up to class regardless of hangovers, he is very serious about his education. As serious as he is about partying. Shows up to class fitted every single time. Probably has outfit changes between classes. Type of guy to have his fits laid out next to his bed. He does the most. Was also probably community dick. Works as a cook at a restaurant, constantly flirts with you there. Gets all giddy in the kitchen with his coworkers when he manages to make you giggle.

Charles Smith - Anthropology

It's him and his laptop against the world. He's super neat, everything in one place. Any papers he gets are all neatly kept away and categorized per class. Is hard at work on writing an ethnography and is frequently out and about for observations. If he's not out then he's at home working on assignments. Also a frat member but like I said, rooms with Arthur. Has gained the quiet serious type reputation in class but once you start talking to him discover he's very friendly and nice. Probably works on campus as a student ambassador. Is very involved with school and activities; runs an enviornmental sciences club. Dedicates several hours a night to studying/working on assignments. Amazing student all around. The way he has his life together is enviable.

Kieran Duffy - Equine Studies

LITERALLY PERFECT MAJOR FOR HIM. Literally the happiest student around, his classroom is the stables. Works at the stables as well. Just spends 99% of his time at the stables so catching him outside of there is nearly impossible. Gossips to the horses and tells them about his day. I feel like he'd fall behind in his other studies though because he'd be way too focused on the horses. Typical, struggling student. Joined a frat out of pressure, got the WORST of the hazing. I don't even want to begin to imagine what the rituals were like. Probably gets black out drunk at frat parties, ends up on the front lawn and wakes up half naked every weekend somehow.

Sean Macguire - Business Administration

He's just insufferable like that. Whenever people shit on his major he just finds a thousand bullshit reasons as to why his major is better and more lucrative. Complains to John how hard his homework is and when John asks to see his screen it's addition with pictures. Probably went to college to party and realized "oh shit I actually gotta do school". Googled the highest paying and easiest majors and chose it like that. Puts more thought into what beer he's going to buy at the liquor store than his studies. Hotboxes his car 24/7. His room REEKS of weed and so does he. Attempts to disguise it with ax body spray. Will always ask you if you want to wake and bake; regardless of if you do or don't accept he's showing up to class high and with sunglasses. Goes nonverbal when he greens out. Works at McDonald's with John, is constantly late and is warned he might get fired but never does. Just fucks around in the back. I can imagine he and Karen are constantly on and off but when they're off he brings a new girl home to the frat every night.

Lenny Summers - Literature Major

Joined the frat because he thought he'd make good connections (LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER). One of the youngest pledges, went easier on him with the hazing. He's incredibly focused on his studies. You'd be surprised to find out he's a party animal as well because he's constantly reading a book in his free time. Definitely joined a book club with Mary-Beth and is taking Dutch's English class. Works on campus as well as the library; prides himself on his work and education. I believe he'd dorm because there's no way he's living in that filthy frat. Super organized dorm. Became really good friends with Arthur during one of the parties, also became close with Sean. Frequently gets driven around by Sean and gets second hand high from being in his car.

Bill Williamson - Army

Out of everyone he went to the army instead of college. But he definitely still hangs with the frat when he can simply because he's friends with a few of them. Frequently buys them liquor and supplies it to the younger members. Asks them how their classes are going and ends up falling into a rabbit hole where he's learning about infrastructure planning or astrophysics and tries his hand at doing their homework for them. It goes terribly. Drives a beat up pickup truck and you can hear that mf coming down the road 3 blocks away. Subtly tries (and fails) at flirting with some of the frat members.

Micah Bell - Criminal Law Major

Insufferable. Need I say more. Very money centric. Definitely thinks he's better than you because he's a law student. Kisses the professors’ ass all the time. Joins study groups and acts as if he's the smartest one there, tries to lead conversations, and views it as a challenge if anyone says differently than him during said discussions. He probably has an internship at a firm. Oh my god I can just imagine how sleazy he is. Also part of the frat and several of the members do not like him. Harasses the girls that show up. I can see him cutting off people during class or talking over them. Type of guy to say "not to be devil's advocate, but..."

Pearson - Culinary Degree

Came back to school to get his culinary degree. Mostly keeps to himself but has become acquainted with a few people and is actually decent friends with some. Pretty serious about his studies but is also chill, you can just tell he's extremely passionate about what he does. Excuses himself from hangouts by saying "sorry I got a pie due at 3." Loves it when he's able to sell some of his products back to students/general public and see how people react. Dreams of opening his own restaurant so he takes the accounting/marketing aspects of his degree very seriously.

Abigail Roberts - Education Major

I CAN JUST SEE IT YK. I can totally see her being a teacher, and she's super hardworking. I feel like her schedule is jam packed so she hardly ever has time for fun. Studies, does homework, student teaching, and takes care of herself and her son. So yeah imagine how busy she is all the time. Occasionally leaves Jack with his grandparents for a night of fun but that is few and far in between. Joined a sorority for support but wouldn't live in the house. Lives in the same complex as Arthur and they get along, sometimes he offers to babysit Jack. Drops off food for her when she's real busy with her studies. NEVER late to class. And besides handling ALL THIS, she'd work as a waitress at a restaurant by campus. Talk about hard working.

Sadie Adler - Agricultural Sciences

Definitely moved to live on campus from a rural town to pursue her degree. Joined the sorority early on but dorms. Suffered a breakup and found solace in the community the girls provided. Works at a local supermarket and volunteers at a community garden nearby. Her dorm is full of potted plants. Became really good friends with Arthur through Abigail, who has her over at times. I feel like she'd be asked on dates frequently but she always turns em down because she's still struggling to accept her breakup. I'm not making it a death because this AU isn't that BRUTAL. Argues with the boys often. Pearson frequents the supermarket she works at and she always makes a comment on the strange ingredients he buys. Thus leading to a weird tense air between them that they never directly address. Enjoys her coursework and never falls behind. She's on top of that shit. Also very outspoken in class.

Karen Jones - Biological Sciences

PREMED BABYYYY. On the path to becoming a nurse. She procrastinates a lot, is often late to class, BEGS her professors for extensions. Truth is she's a party girl and she will NEVER give up that party life. Constantly at several different frat parties, gets black out drunk on Saturdays, and on Sundays she's studying for her bio exam on Monday. Complains to her sorority sisters about boys, particularly Sean, to the point where they all HATE any man she gets involved with. And the next time they see Sean in public they're all glaring DAGGERS at him. Parties aside she does her work even if she puts it off... Her grades are decent, definitely passing, but everyone tells her she's gonna need to do better if she wants to go to med school. I can see her working at a retail store like Walgreens. Most miserable cashier you'll ever see. Probably lets you walk out with your items for free if she's particularly pissed off at work that day.

Tilly Jackson - Physics Major

SHE IS A SMART GIRL. One of the most hardworking on this list. Her grades are top notch and she don't play about studying. I can see her offering tutoring for math and even getting paid for it. She is not one to be underestimated when it comes to her academic abilities. Occasionally parties (aka gets dragged along by Karen) and enjoys herself, but I can't see her being a major party animal. Offers Karen lots of advice as well as helping the girls with math assignments when they need it. Joins study groups as well as math clubs. Works at a cafe on campus where Mary-Beth and Lenny visit her occasionally. Generally well organized. Has her shit together.

Mary-Beth Gaskill - Literature Major

ALWAYS has her nose in a book. Becomes extremely engaged in class discussions and has probably read every single book required for the semester already. Works at a bookstore and frequents the campus library. Is on the chiller side of partying but still accompanies the girls. She's very reserved but can be quite friendly. Writes fanfiction in the back of class while her professors think she's just passionately writing a report. Always gets extensions from Dutch, always. Even when she doesn't need em. I can see her reading a lot of philosophy books. Also an Otessa Moshfegh fan. Colleen Hoover is her guilty pleasure. Runs a blog about the books she reads. I can also imagine her being part of the school paper. Real close with Lenny as well, often hangs out with him at the cafe Tilly works at.

Molly O'Shea - Cosmetology

Shows up to her 8 AM with a BEAT face. Full face of makeup, decked head to toe in designer: designer purse where she keeps her macbook, designer shoes, outfit, accessories, etc. Probably wears brands you've never even heard of. Has a crush on Dutch, only reason she has perfect attendance in his class. Has a grudge towards Mary-Beth. Dorms for sure, even though she'd be able to afford housing nearby. The only times she's at the dorm is in the morning getting ready for class or at night to sleep. Hardly talks to her roommate either, not even a hey. Gained the stuck up rich girl reputation from her peers. Seen at cafes in between classes and is always alone. Is out of town and has been struggling to make friends. Lots of guys ask her out on dates and she only accepts when she's bored and wants a free meal. WILL make y'all go to a steakhouse, WILL order the most expensive thing on the menu.

Dutch Van Der Linde - English/Philosophy Professor

This guy definitely speaks about philosophy with a PASSION. His class is very engaging, though I do believe he'd play favorites with a few female students... This goes for both classes. Constant open ended discussions. Type of professor to ask you "but what do the blue curtains mean...?" Hardass with assignments unless you're one of those favored female students. No late assignments with him ever. You either turn it in at the deadline or you don't ever. I feel like he'd forget to take attendance frequently despite being a hardass about that too. Probably the type of professor that tries to integrate himself with the student body and try to fit in. Mildly successful.

Hosea Matthews - Theatre Professor

THE SWEETEST, KINDEST, MOST COMPASSIONATE PROFESSOR. ALWAYS excuses late assignments and very lenient, will not deduce points. His class is very fun and engaging as well! Does what Dutch tries to do and makes genuine connections with his students while keeping it professional. Tells his students they can always talk to him and come for advice. Frequently has lunch with Dutch and Susan and talks up just how great his classes are. Frequents the library and local bookstores; also goes to the cafe Tilly works at. I also feel like a lot of his relationships would have a fatherly air around them, like he's a second dad for a few of the students (we know who...).

Leopold Strauss - Business Professor

YOU CANNOT TELL ME HE WOULDN'T UGH. Probably a super boring class I'm not gonna lie. His accent would probably make it hard for some students to understand what he's saying, not to mention he probably speaks super softly and not loud enough for everyone to hear. He should've retired by now but he refuses to. There is no syllabus week with him, you got homework on the first day. But it's probably not even hard c'mon. Sean is probably the most lively thing about his class, but he's definitely falling asleep in there frequently. Always late to his own class, doesn't even say why, just gets into lecturing. NEVER seen without a cup of coffee. Sometimes there will be long moments of silence between lectures as he tries to figure out the technology. Falls asleep in his car after class.

Orville Swanson - Theology Professor

Also a super chill professor. He's probably super open to his classes about his struggles. He's able to facilitate well structured discussions and keep things civilized amongst his students. I feel like it could get boring because it's mostly lectures and slide shows but he'd still find a way to keep his students engaged, especially on discussions. I feel like he'd also be lenient about assignments, but his assignments would be rather large. Back to back papers. Type of professor to say hi to you in the halls or outside of campus and ask about your day. 10/10 guy.

Uncle - Biology Professor

How is he still working here. HOW hasn't he retired. WHY hasn't he retired. SOMEONE PLEASE make him retire. There are pros and cons. You will learn NOTHING in his class, so if you're unfortunate enough to land his class you better drop that shit as soon as possible. If you for some reason stay, you must be some sort of masochist. Probably has the best stories. As soon as you think he's about to start lecturing he goes on a tangent about a story that happened to him the other day. He has weekly tests and you might as well teach yourself the material because his ass definitely isn't doing it. Also has plenty of labs so he can leave you all to your own devices amongst each other while he sits at his desk and does who knows what. You can probably find him sleeping in a student lounge at any time of the day. Also the frat guys have definitely run into him at the liquor store.

Susan Grimshaw - History Professor/Sorority Mother

She's hard on you but only because she cares. Isn't very lenient when it comes to assignments but she's involved with her students. If she sees you struggling she'll pull you aside and ask what's up and figure out a plan to help you out in her class. Likes to remind her students she isn't their mommy but has a very motherly air surrounding her. And she is VERY on top of her girls. As a sorority mother, she makes sure they eat well, stay on top of studies, and deals with parents. Encourages the girls to keep up the general cleanliness of the house and tells them to work as a unit. Extremely proud of each of them.

[ssweetreveries]

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 ♡

❀ ten x reader

. fluff!

. word count! 1.8k

{oneshot, nonidol!ten, fem!reader, barista!reader, short and sweet, fluff, reader has a bit of trauma but it’s nothing that serious, mentions of past relationships}

a.n i apologize if there’s any mistakes, this isn’t proof read and english isn’t my first language, please bare with me!! enjoy! ><

synopsis . a new customer grabs your atttention.

It was a day like no other. The cafe was bustling with people, the orders seeming never ending. You glanced briefly at the clock, there was still 2 hours to your shift. The rush of customers a big juxtaposition to the slowly passing time. You softly sigh under your breath as you make your what—20th? No, 30th? Maybe.—iced americano of the day. You finish off the cold beverage before putting on your customer service persona and calling out the name of the order. “Ten?” You call out.

The man lifts his head from his phone, signalling you with a smile. You notice him, his sharp eyes staring into your own as he makes his way to the counter. Eyes fixated on him, you swear your breathing stops for a moment. He looked straight out of a magazine; tall, lean build, his dark hair resting just above his shoulders, and his high cheekbones complimenting his unique features. You quickly regain your composure, handing him his coffee. “Have a great day,” you tell him, as you do to every customer. He gives you a polite nod before making his way out of the cafe. Your eyes seem to linger on his retreating form longer than they should, before your coworker signals you of the incoming customers. You turn around and get back to work, eventually forgetting about the mesmerising man.

Little did you know, this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him. A few days later, a seemingly much slower day, the same man enters the cafe. Hearing the bell chime, indicating that a customer entered the cafe, you greet them. “Good morning, welcome,” you say with a smile, looking up from the register. Your eyes lock with his and he returns the kind smile. “Good morning,” he says as he makes his way to the counter. “You’re the pretty barista from last time”, he chuckles softly. Your eyes slightly widen at his comment, a slight blush faint on your cheeks.

“Ah, sorry, too forward?” he says with a sheepish smile. You laugh softly, dismissing him. “No, I’m flattered really. What can I get for you?”

The man doesn’t even take time to think, or look at the menu. “A tall iced-Americano, please.” You nod, taking down his order and telling him his total. How can such a seemingly sweet man enjoy something so bitter? You comment to yourself as you prepare his drink. Once his drink is collected, the man leaves the cafe. This time though, you don’t forget him. Thoughts of him lingering in your mind.

Ever since that first encounter, Ten became a regular at the cafe. He would come in every other day if not everyday. Soon enough, you two became acquaintances, sharing small talk every now and then. One particularly quiet day, you even sat with him during your break. That day, you learned more about the intriguing man. And, it was safe to say your relationship had upgraded to friends.

Soon enough, as much as you wished you didn’t, you found yourself falling more and more into the sickenly-sweet man. You would never admit that out loud though, the memories of your past surfacing at every thought of a newfound relationship. You swore to yourself that you wouldn’t let yourself fall for another kind persona, being played dirty the last time you did. It happened almost a year ago, yet you remembered the shatter of your heart like it was yesterday.

You wanted to believe that Ten only had good intentions, you really did. Then again, you had also believed the same when you gave away your love and trust to Jey, your ex-lover. And, what had he done? He had gone and thrown it all away when he decided to go sleep with another woman. That day was inbred in your memory, remembered in vast details. You came back home from the cafe, same time as usual. You remember being excited to be back in your lover’s arms after a tiring day. What you didn’t expect though, was the sight that greeted you. The sight of him in your shared bed with another woman in his arms.

The thought still haunts you, and that one lingering question always makes its reappearance in the back of your mind. Why? Why..? Were you not enough for him? Did he lose interest in you? Had you done something to make him dislike you? Had he simply been playing with you all along? He had destroyed you on the inside to say the least. You trusted him enough to reveal your most vulnerable self to him, and this is what you got in return. Now, you found yourself overanalyzing every single interaction with any potential new love interests.

A few months had gone by, and Ten really made you want to believe in love again. He was a gentleman, his kindness was almost unbelievable. Sometimes you felt like he was too nice, making you wonder if it was all an act. He visited the cafe everyday after he was off work, staying until closing time so he could walk you home in the peace and quiet of the evening. You guys shared many late night talks, enjoying each other’s presence. Ten thought his actions would show as a sign he was interested in you, but it seems you were oblivious to his subtle hints.

Today was another one of those days. Ten would wait for you, sitting at a small table, whilst you finished closing up the shop. The cafe was already closed for a while, you just had to finish cleaning up a bit. Suddenly the bell of the cafe rings in the quiet of the space, signalling an incoming customer. You probably forgot to lock the door, you tell yourself. “Sorry, we’re closed!” you call out from behind the counter, putting away some dishes.

The space is quiet once again, so naturally you assume that whoever was there, left. What you don’t expect is to be met face to face by the last person you ever wanted to see. Time seems to still as your heart drops to your stomach, wide eyes staring back at him. “Jey..” you mutter under your breath, unsure what to say or do. “We’re closed.” you say sternly, after recovering from your initial shock.

“Look, (Y/N)-” he takes a step forwards, towards the counter separating you both.

“No, I don’t want to talk. Please, leave.” you mumble. You step from behind the counter, trying to lead him back to the exit. But Jey keeps on insisting, he grabs your wrist stopping you from moving any further.

“(Y/N), please hear me out. It was a mistake, leaving you was a mistake-” he starts.

The screeching of a chair can be heard, Ten who had silently been watching the whole interaction abruptly getting up.

Jey glances at him before staring back at you, fingers still wrapped around your wrist. “I thought you were closed?”

“She is.” Ten speaks up. “And I advise you to leave.” he says in his usual tone. You take Jey’s distraction as an opportunity to rip your arm from his hold.

Jey looks him up and down before speaking up, “And, who are you?” he says directed to him.

Ten steps closer to you, putting himself in between you two. He looks back at you before staring back into Jey’s stare. “Her boyfriend.” he states bluntly.

Jey seems taken aback, eyes staring into yours, searching for an answer. “Are you serious?” he says appalled.

You glance at Ten before refocusing on Jey, deciding to play along, you slowly nod.

Jey lifts a hand, running it frustratingly through his hair before muttering curses under his breath. He scoffs and shakes his head unamused, before turning around and leaving the cafe without a word.

Upon his departure, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realised you were holding. Immediately going to lock the front door.

When you turn back around, you find Ten looking back at you with a worried expression. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, meeting you across the room. You nod before letting out a soft chuckle.

“Boyfriend? What’s that supposed to mean,” You say, referring to earlier.

“I don’t know, did you want it to mean something..?” he replies, tentatively.

You look away, seemingly caught off guard by the rhetorical question. “I don’t know,” you say, voice barely audible.

A few minutes in silence pass, before Ten speaks up again. “(Y/N),” he starts, grabbing your attention. “I’ve been meaning to ask you this all day,” he says.

“Would you like to go to the carnival with me tonight?” he asks softly,“It doesn’t have to be as a date or anything, unless you want it to be..?” he adds.

You look back at him, surprise coating your features. He wanted to take you out, and as a date? You pondered over the idea. There was no denying beneath this underlying fear, there were some sorts of feelings for Ten. But, were you ready to accept that? Were you ready to see someone in this type of way again?

You took a moment to think about it. During the time you got to know him, Ten only proved himself to be a good person. His kindness only seemed to be a part of his caring nature, and nothing of ill intentions. You wanted to give him a chance.

Each passing seconds, the silence only seemed to stretch and Ten found himself more and more nervous about your reaction. Until you finally spoke up, “I- Yeah, I think I’d like that..” Ten smiled at your answer.

And that’s how you both finally found yourselves alone together, walking away from the small crowd after a night filled with laughter and enjoyment. Ten was still holding your hand as you abruptly stopped, causing him to turn around confused. “(Y/N)?” he asks softly.

“Thank you for tonight, Ten.” you whisper, causing him to smile in return.

“Of course, I’m glad you had fun.” he says as he holds both of your hands gently in his, facing you completely now. He stares down at you, a longing look in his eyes. Whilst you stare up at him, eyes filled with unspoken truths.

Lost in the moment and enticed by you. Ten softly leans down, lips merely inches from yours. “Is this okay?” he whispers, his warm breath fanning against your mouth.

You simply nod, closing the remaining distance between you.

Your lips on his felt right, this felt right. And that’s when you realised; you wanted to believe in love again. But, more importantly, you wanted to believe in Ten.

[gloomy-kitty]

in your dreams | satoru gojo x fem!reader

warnings : none

notes : season two/high school gojo. a lil something in between my joshua fic. not proofreading this or anything since it’s just a quick little fic. lil angsty bonus because i can’t resist.

“He’s totally dreamy though ______.” Your coworker sighed dreamily as she stocked the shelves with various beauty products. You groaned rolling your eyes, “Dreamy? Yeah, no. Yuuka don’t get involved with Satoru he’s a playboy.” You warned her furrowing your brows.

“Yeah you only say that because you go to school with him. You have some bias against him.” Yuuka muttered as she stood to her feet flattening the cardboard box, “Anyways I’ll be back. I’m gonna take the trash out to the recycle bin keep an eye on the store.” She sighed before walking away finally leaving you in peace. Generic pop music echoed through the empty cosmetics store but you didn’t mind the lack of customers, it was nice to not have to deal with people. You hummed quietly to yourself as you continued stocking the shelves. When the doorbell chimed signaling a customer coming in.

“Hello welcome to-“ you began to greet them when your eyes landed on the familiar set of fluffy white hair.

“Continue on.”

Nope. You turned your attention back to stocking the shelves. “Aw come on ______ don’t be like that.” Your frenemy whined coming closer to you. Your face scrunched up. God even his voice was grating!

“What the hell do you want Satoru?” You finally snapped turning to face him. You placed your hands firmly on your hips staring up at him. Satoru smirked and held his hand out, a plastic bag dangling in his finger tips. “Got you lunch. Scratch that got us lunch.” He said that stupid sly smile playing on his lips. You wanted so badly to slap that stupid look off his face. “I didn’t ask you to do that. Why do you always insist on bothering me everywhere I go? You annoy me at school and now you come harass me at work. What are you a stalker or somethin’? Go bother Suguru.” Your voice was laced with pure annoyance but it seemed to only fuel the white haired sorcerer even more.

He reached out a finger booping you on your nose, “I’m your stalker ______. Just can’t get enough of ya.” He smoothly said only causing you to scoff even more. “When’s your lunch break? I’m pretty hungry so hurry up.” He said. You rolled your eyes, “When Yuuka gets back.” You snapped. His bright blue eyes widened, “The tall blonde one?” He asked. You nodded. She’s pretty hot but I’m not into gyarus. I prefer my women to be sorcerers just like you, ______.” He sounded so serious which caused your face to heat up but he quickly began to laugh loudly clutching his stomach, “Aw your face got all red. I love when you get all shy.” He laughed. Before you could yell at him Yuuka came in she practically squealed when she saw who was beside you. “Gojo hi! You’re back! Did you come to see me?” She shyly asked fidgeting with her fingers. Gojo winked, “Of course I did. Id love to spend more time with you but ______ made me bring her lunch so next time I owe you a date.” He smoothly said. Such a player. You thought annoyedly, snatching the plastic bag out of Gojo’s hand you began to walk towards the back of the store, “Yuuka I’m going on lunch. I’ll be back in like an hour. Come on Satoru.” You muttered the white haired boy following close behind you excitedly.

Sitting on top of the brick flower bed you crossed your legs pulling out the food from the plastic bag. Satoru watched eagerly as he sat across from you, “Got you your favorite. McDonald’s.” He said, “Did I get your order right?” He asked curiously watching as you opened the box of chicken nuggets. You pretended to examine the nuggets and fries closely before slowly taking a sip of cola then you nodded, “Hmm I suppose you did get my order right. Good boy.” You laughed softly. “See I know you so well. It’s almost like I’d make the perfect boyfriend?” He asked wiggling an eyebrow as he took a bite of his burger. He looked so proud of himself for getting your order right without asking, it was almost cute? Pfft yeah right.

“Boyfriend to who? Me? Yeah no in your dreams.” You laughed. Satoru pouted, “Come on ______. You know you want me. We’ve known each for other for like ten years? So why don’t we make it official.” He whined. It seemed like an on going situation between you and him, him constantly asking to be your boyfriend. It wasn’t like you actually hated him you did like him but it was complicated.

“I’d rather not get caught up in Gojo clan affairs seems to stressful. Plus I told you I’d rather not date a sorcerer too stressful wondering if they’ll die or somethin.” You mumbled avoiding his intense gaze. “Luckily for you my dear lovely future girlfriend that I’m the strongest sorcerer to live so you never have to worry about me dying. You can go become a housewife or something while I take care of you never even have to interact with the clan.” Satoru said leaning closer to you. Sighing you looked up at him, “Meh maybe one day I’ll consider it. Might have to convince me more.” You smirked. Satoru chuckled shaking his head, “God you want me to play the long game huh? Fine I’ll play your games.” He returned your smirk. It was nice to have someone like Satoru in your life despite how obnoxious he was at times.

~•••~

BONUS ENDING WARNINGS

SHIBUYA ARC SPOILERS

You fell to your knees sobbing face buried in your hands. “Satoru…Satoru..” you choked out in between sobs. He was gone and it was Itadori’s fault or so you found yourself blaming. He was just a kid but you felt like if Satoru had never taken a liking to him he’d still be here today. Maybe if you stopped Suguru all those years ago this wouldn’t of happened. Maybe if you were stronger you could of saved him. It was too late now you’d never become Satoru’s stupid housewife.

So many scenarios rushed through your head all the what’s ifs. Maybe if you accepted his proposal he would of retired and you’d be raising a family together now. It wasn’t fair and you’d never be able to see him again.

You felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, “______ come on now your bleeding a lot.” Shoko’s gentle voice broke you out of your thoughts. She was right you were drenched in blood from your injuries. The brunette held her hand out as she gently pulled you to your feet, “Satoru wouldn’t wanna see you like this. He’ll be fine. He’ll find a way out.” She offered you a weak smile which you returned giving her a nod. “Y..yeah Shoko.” You coughed out.

[akisunlovesnalu]

I’m back because of my most recent hyperfixation!! *cough* Punkflower *cough*

During their annual “Summer Sleepover”, Nobody expected to find Miles, a boy with amnesia and a secret that goes deeper than just running away from home.

Hobie, Gwen, and Pav are going to help him solve this mystery by whatever means possible… Even if that means adopting the kid into their friend group by default.

“I never said I don’t know what a microwave is.” Miles rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in annoyance. “I may have amnesia but I'm pretty sure I didn't live under a rock!” “Or inside of a spaceship?” Pav popped out of nowhere, a glazed donut fit snugly between his lips. “Or that.” Miles hissed

Everyone could feel the moment the power shut off. 

It was impossible to miss. 

Without light, the city was pitch black. Loud machines which acted as a sort of substitute for white noise in people's homes suddenly fell silent. And if, for some strange reason, you were still left unaware of the power outage? You wouldn’t be for long. The resounding rumble that you would feel in your bones? The static shock that traveled all the way from your torso to your chest? That would have been a good enough clue that something was not right.

Though the power outage wasn’t such a strange occurrence to send panic into the hearts of the citizens of New York, it was still a large enough nuisance for the groans of every breathing soul in the city to be heard.

Including the groan of a large man standing atop a pile of rubble. Rubble which showed the remains of a once tall standing building. The man chuckled to himself, the wide frame of his body shaking from the movement. He threw his head up towards the sky as his laugh grew louder and the few people who managed to survive the explosion looked at one another in worry.

After a nudge from her coworker, a small woman bit her lip and began to speak up. “Uhm-”

The man grunted, holding up a fist and signaling silence. He scanned the small crowd of injured researchers and quirked his lips up into an evil grin. 

“Find him.” was all he said. Though it was less of a request and more so an order. A promise of unfortunate circumstances if they were to fail. The scientists secured their jackets and scurried out of the damage in a hurry.

They had a lot of work to do.

______________________________________________________________

Hobie Brown kicked at his Air Con unit with his heavy black combat boots. The red shoelace flung itself through the air as his kicks grew more aggressive.

“Hobie, My guy.” Pavitr Prahakar walked over to his friend, throwing a casual arm around his shoulder. “I do not think kicking the AC is gonna fix it.”

“He’s right.” Gwen Stacy paused the game she was playing on her Nintendo Switch, placing it on the couch and giving her other two friends a look that screamed are you serious?

“I think you might have broken it.”

“Oh, man!” Pav giggled to himself as he squatted down, observing the machine and the large dent in the middle of it. “Bro you totally broke it!”

“Whatever.” Hobie rolled his eyes, throwing his long limbs over the arm of the couch, and laid his head down on Gwen's lap. “Like you know anything…” 

She rolled her eyes and flicked his forehead good-naturedly. “Don’t pout you big baby. I’m sure we can deal with the heat just fine.”

“I don’t know about that…” Pav slumped his body over the couch, staring down at the two with a gleam in his eye. “Maybe we oughta cool off in a different way….”

Gwen froze, a slow smile working its way onto her cheeks. Hobie managed to quirk his lips up into a smirk, flinging himself off of the couch with little effort.

“There we go Pav,” He smoothly threw on his ripped jean jacket and stomped his way over to the window. “Looks like you know something after all.”

Gwen pumped her fists and cheered, running into Hobie’s room excitedly. “I call Hobs’ sweater!”

“Awwee” Pav whined, throwing his own hand-knitted jacket over his shoulders. “You always get the sweater when it is my turn!”

“Neither of you runts should make a habit out of nabbing my jumpers!” Hobie yelled, twirling his house keys around a finger. “Now let's go! I can feel myself boiling.”

The three left through the window and unto the fire escape.

“It’s not even that hot.” Gwen rolled her eyes, leisurely strolling down the stairs of her friend's apartment complex. 

Pav grinned. “She’s right, Hobie. Maybe you're finally suffering from wearing so many layers!”

“What a silly way to say you’re jealous of my style.” Hobie shook his head endearingly before jumping onto the railing. He hung off of it with one arm, pointing to the two of his friends with the other.

“First one to the top of that building?” He moved his hand until it pointed to the apartment directly across the street. “Wins!” And with that, he flipped off and landed on someone else's Air Con unit.

“Not fair!” Gwen laughed, she and Pav fought their way toward Hobie.

While instinct tells the onlookers from below to be alarmed, they are anything but. Not only do they have little time to care about the well-being of other people, but these kids have made a habit out of jumping across buildings in competition. The three were regularly caught grinding rails of buildings several feet off the ground.

They found a sort of freedom in this. Jumping from building to building. Challenging each other to ‘who can do the most backflips.’ The tops of buildings in New York City were like homes away from home. Every teenager feels the need to escape the stresses of their everyday lives. These three just have an unusual means of escape.

“You think that’s cool?” Pav jumped around, dismissing the way Gwen had managed to land on her pointed toes. “Watch this!”

The boy sprinted off of the roof they were on, flipping onto the next and landing on his hands. He spun himself around as if he were a hip-hop dancer and finished, sitting in the full-on splits.

“Holy shit!” Hobie cheered, crossing the cavern over to the roof Pav was now on. “That was absolutely insane, Man!” The taller boy gripped his friend's shoulder, shaking him in excitement.

“Stop one upping me Pav.” Gwen rolled her eyes and strolled her way over to the others. “I’m trying to impress Hobie.”

“Ain’t no need for that Gwendy!” Hobie ruffled her hair and shoved her aside. “The both of yous are plenty talented on your own. Caring about my opinion is playing into that fascist mindset!”

“Right!” Pav agreed. “Just because I’m currently beating you by 2 points, doesn't mean you can’t also be second best,”

Gwen gestured towards Pav with a gobsmacked expression. “Hobie!?”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with a bit of friendly competition either!” Hobie chuckled, jumping onto the wall and sliding onto the next rooftop.

“Let's see…” He hummed while the other two followed close behind. The boy scanned the area stroking his chin in thought.

He snapped his fingers. “That's it!”

“What’s it?” Pav breathed into his ear.

“I’ve got the perfect way to settle our score.” He replied, holding Pav's head away as the other boy struggled.

Gwen hummed. “The parking lot?”

“Looks pretty empty don’t it?”

Pav finally managed to escape his friend's grip. “Maybe too empty.” He voiced and squinted down at the dark parking lot, the only light in the middle of it flickered ominously. “Usually in the books, we’d refer to this situation as a ‘Death Flag’”

“Relax, Bro” Hobie slung his arm around his two friends' shoulders, squeezing them to his side. “Whoever wins gets to keep my jumper.”

The other two froze, their eyes glinting at the challenge. 

“Oh, you’re so on!”

____________________________________________________________________________

While the competition was all fun and games, Pav’s heart rate was about to make things anything but.

His anxious feelings about this place were rewarded with terrifying sounds and moving shadows. The lamp in the middle of the lot flickered again sending his eyes darting towards what he thought was someone limping in the corner.

What was that burning smell? Why was this parking lot abandoned? There were too many important questions and Pav did not have enough patience to figure them all out!

“You know what? I don’t need that sweater immediately! Maybe we can continue this challenge in some other, not-so-creepy parking lot!”

“Chill out Pav we’re fine!” Gwen ignored him, cartwheeling down a slanted slab of concrete. A loud banging noise was released from the concrete once she landed.

Pav shrieked. “Preferably when the sun is out!”

Hobie sighed, nudging Gwen comfortingly. “Pav’s right, we should go.”

“But-”

“Gwendy it’s still a sleepover. We’ve got plenty of popcorn and shitty cartoons to keep ourselves occupied at my place.”

Gwen signed in defeat, tapping her foot in annoyance. “Fine. But cartoons are my pick!” She turned towards the way they entered. “C’mon Pav, you win.”

Instead of the predicted, “Thank you!” As she had expected, they were instead met with silence. Hobie and Gwen shared a worried look.

“Pav?” Hobie walked towards his friend who stood stalk still. The boy was pointing into the darkness and exhaling a silent scream that sounded more like a wheeze than anything.

“What's…” He froze, finally noticing what Pav was pointing at.

He made eye contact with another boy. One he has never seen before. A boy who definitely hadn’t been there a few seconds ago.

“What the hell…” Gwen whispered.

The boy pulled his attention away from Pav as he noticed the other two. His eyes widened.

“Hey man, you feeling alright?” Hobie was making his way toward the disgruntled stranger, tilting his head in concern. “You don’t look too hot-”

The boy flinched back, fidgeting with the sleeves of his torn jacket. He seemed to be debating with himself on whether or not he should put his fists up and fight. This kid looked like an absolute mess.

“It’s alright.” Hobie soothed, taking slower and lighter steps towards him. The boy's chest that was once rising and falling in a panic seemed to calm down once he realized the others meant no harm. Hobie couldn’t help but compare him to a deer caught in headlights.

The boy's voice cracked as he asked. “Who-who are you?”

“That’s what we wanna know.”

“I don’t-” The boy's eyes shot back and forth as he scanned over Hobie and his friends. Gwen began to tiptoe towards Hobie with Pav clinging onto her arm like a lifeline. 

“Miles.”

“Alright, Miles.” Hobie tested out the name on his tongue. “The name’s Hobie. These are my mates-”

“I’m Gwen” She sent the boy a reassuring smile and he seemed to relax even more.

“P-pav!” Their youngest friend squeaked, still hidden behind Gwen.

Hobie clicked his teeth. “Get from behind her Pav. He’s probably more scared of you than you are of him.”

“And so are spiders apparently!” Pav hissed.

“No it’s fine…” Miles tried to speak.

“Yeah, well, spiders have probably been through a lot and they just wanna sleep somewhere with a warm bed!” Gwen chimed in.

Hobie stared at her in disbelief. “Hold on, are you offering my apartment!?”

“Or!” Pav pulled on Gwen's arm angrily. “These spiders were sent down from outer space to collect data about our race and lay eggs in our mothers!”

“This spider’s been reading too much sci-fi!” Gwen flicked his forehead in annoyance.

“This spider is still stuck on why his apartment is suddenly up for sale!” Hobie added through gritted teeth.

“This spider just figured that since the other spider hated cops so much, there was really only one option!”

“Well, this spider would have loved it if you had asked his opinion beforehand!”

“This spider was getting to that-!”

“This spider loves his Maya Aunti too much to let some spider plant eggs in her!-”

“This spider thinks you took too long to “get to that”!-”

“Hobie spider should stop pulling my hair!”

“Well, Gwendy! Maybe Pav Spider should stop rattling on about alien egg babies!”

“Maybe Pav Spider is onto something!-”

“Can we please stop referring to each other as spiders!” Miles yelled, holding his hands out in panic.

The three, mid-fight, turned to look at him in shock as the lamp flickered on and off.

“You guys are weird!” He pointed out.

“Right…” Hobie cleared his throat, detangling himself from the mess of limbs they’d somehow become.

Gwen cleared her throat even louder, gesturing towards a jittery Miles.

“I-” Hobbies eye flicked from Miles to Gwen. From the stern tapping of her feet to Miles’ charred Jordans…. The decision Hobie had to make was clear. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to say no.

“Where’d you come from?” Hobie had to ask, walking closer to this Miles fellow. Miles shrunk against his intense gaze, his eyes darting toward every piercing on his face.

“I… don’t know.” Miles looked away, confused. His breathing picked up again as his hands clutched the hair on his head. “I don't- I can't remember where I…”

Miles was panicking now, his expression looked far away.

“Hey Bro, it’s okay.” Hobie didn’t know when Pav had gotten so close, but he couldn't be more thankful for that fact.

Pavitr laid a comforting hand on Miles’ back, rubbing gentle circles as he spoke. “You don’t gotta know right now. What’s important is that we get you some food, water, and a place to sleep. Yeah?”

He looked at Hobie when he said that and the boy clicked his teeth. Like that wasn’t already obvious.

Miles looked at Pav like he was an angel sent to Earth. “Yeah. You’re right man, sorry ‘bout that.”

“No worries.” Hobie smiles, crossing his arms. “But we had better catch the bus before they stop running.”

“Thank god!” Gwen smiled wide, punching Hobie in the arm good-naturedly. “The bad boy act doesn't suit you at all.”

The four teens walked towards the nearest bus stop, Pav’s arm hung around Miles while he talked his ears off about aliens.

“Who said I was trying to be bad?” Hobie did not pout while he rubbed his now sore arm. “I am whatever the hell I say I am!”

“Sure.” Gwen chuckled. “My bad.”

Part 2

[priestfrommidnightmass]

todays insane update for anyone silently invested: well he accidentally called me his girlfriend’s name. he totally FROZE in the doorway and spent a full minute looking at me in absolute and complete Horror like i’ve never seen before. and then he started going Forget I said that. Please forget I ever did that. and the funny thing? i didn’t even hear him at first. like i literally was just sweeping not even looking at him and didn’t notice at first but i saw him still standing there and like. i thought he called me the Wrong name but i didn’t hear What name. i thought for a second he called me lucy or some other coworker i don’t knows name (he’s horrible with names he genuinely called me by my coworkers name the first two weeks i knew him 😭) so i started making a sad face because i thought we were past this lmfao it’s been a YEAR. like it WASN’T A BIG DEAL yet i saw an opportunity to be dramatic as i always do and had to take it. but i was still confused why it warranted such a big reaction so i clarified the name i thought he heard and he was like No dude i said i’ll be right back (girlfriends name) and then after another few seconds of horrified staring finally unfroze and ran out of the room. once it hit me i was just laughing in disbelief bro like you can’t even be serious anymore. this is the second time this week he’s somehow subconsciously referred to me as his girlfriend like what the fuck am i supposed to do with THAT

[capricornrisingsstuff]

So I’ve taken a prompt from @lovebugism ‘s summer sleepover as it looks like fun! I hope they don’t mind me being totally self indulgent with this one.

Prompt: “what can I get you? Do you need water? A hug? Space?”

Contains: Eddie being a total softie, reader is female and is a burnt out workaholic. Fluff, pet names. Lmk if I’ve missed anything!

Your phone buzzes for what feels like the millionth time in your back pocket, as you push the door to the kitchen open with your denim jean clad ass. “Why can people not leave me alone, they know I’m working”, you mutter to yourself as you scrape your own plates into the trash, along with the dishes just haphazardly left by your coworkers.

Standing in the kitchen to the coffee shop amongst the chaos you look at your phone and wince. You can barely see your lock screen background (a picture of the castle in Disney World- a reminder that your hard work pays for you to do the things you love); the screen was littered with notifications from the top to the bottom. Scanning through them all, you sighed. A Teams meeting you need to respond to, your Outlook inbox showing 13 unread emails, WhatsApp, Snapchat, Instagram, Facebook messenger. All direct messages about the three jobs you’re juggling to try and get your PhD. Just as you were about to put your phone away, it buzzed again, a double vibration announcing a iMessage. “It’ll be saved for later” you thought as your boss called you to serve at the to go hatch.

Turning from the abrupt customer who didn’t even say hello to you “three grande lattes, sugar free vanilla, decaf” was your greeting; you stared aimlessly into the drops of espresso as you mentally highlighted and crossed off your diary. Breaking you out of your daze was your Apple Watch, lighting up with a name that gave you butterflies. “Eddie “Edward” Munson” the screen flashed. You manoeuvred your fingers to open the message on your watch, trying to suppress the grin the name on the screen gave you. “Hey Mrs workaholic, I was wondering if you wanted to hang soon? If you can fit me in your diary?” Eddie was a sweetheart. He was someone from your life from years ago who regularly kept up with your Instagram stories. Always replying to them and checking to see how you are. You’d just never had the time to indulge yourself with the boy.

A crash of plates and string of expletives broke you out of your lavender haze; the sound of the crash sending you into a little spiral of anxiety. You hastily gave out the drinks order you were working on and ran to the back, intending on clearing up the mess through the tears that were starting to line your eyes. You went to the walk in and pulled out your phone, hastily jabbing at you the contact. “Hey sweetheart, what do I owe this pleasure?” Eddie playfully greeted on the other side of the phone. “Eddie” you choked. “What’s wrong babe? Are you okay?” Eddie’s tone turned serious in a flash as you breathed back some sobs threatening to fall “I just need a break Eddie. I’m so burnt out, I don’t know what to do”, you admitted. You never admitted it but he seemed like your safe space. “What do you need princess? A hug? Water? Space? Say it and I’ll deliver it”. You let out a watery laugh as he ran through the list. “I think I need all of those Eddie, but…from you? Please? Sorry I know we haven’t met up much but I just feel like I can talk to you.” Eddie was glad you couldn’t see his Cheshire Cat grin on the other side of the phone. “My lady, I shall be your unofficial Uber delivery driver in his shining rust bucket of a van. Hugs and water are on their way. I don’t know if I can offer the space though once I hold you…” you swooned at his words, playing with the strings of your apron. “Don’t worry Eddie, space is off the menu from you” “glad to hear it princess. Your Uber driver is 8 minutes away”. No amount of decaf grade sugar free vanilla lattes would get in the way of the hold this sweet boy had on you.

[infatuatedheloise]

ok forgive me for my less active posting, finals are next week and dead week is absolutely killing me this semester 😭

anyway! I said I'd talk about this later and then never said anything lol so here I am

on my close friends insta story, I talked about past experiences with older men trying to go after me and mentioned a classmate I had last semester who was 48 and just generally kinda weird

I went to abelard's office the next day basically to say thank you for dealing with my anxiety the other day about my outfit and I said "I know I probably crossed a couple lines.." and he shook his head and said it was fine, then said "it was incredible...you say things that--you can be so quiet, but then you say things about things that might be weird and I don't think I could do that" which he's told me something similar before but it was interesting to hear it again

anyway, then he was like, "I'll ask something that is maybe inappropriate" (I was like😲😲😲 🤨🤨🤨 what is he gonna ask??) he lowered his voice and asked "who is this guy that-" (asking about the classmate I had mentioned)

I explained that he def didn't know him, and then I explained the whole story/my experiences with this guy (don't really wanna retell that here rn) and abelard was grimacing and cringing at all the stuff that this guy did. I finished talking and he said "at least it's good fodder for a story" and when I didn't really react he said "is that inappropriate to say?" I said no it was fine to joke about it lol

Since we were on the topic, I told him about my experiences with a coworker I once had and again abelard was totally disgusted by the stuff this guy did/said.

Then he said, "Well, I'm glad you never had any experiences with our colleague" I asked who he meant and when he told me I said "oh..hm, yeah" which obviously made him curious so I explained that this other professor had given me weird vibes, I caught him staring at my chest a lot, and he once said something to me about my face/appearance when I didn't wear a mask to class, so nothing serious but I just had a feeling. I said, "it's really good to know that [he has a history of being gross with students] though"

I also told him a joke that I like to make after these experiences with the coworker and classmate: "my ability to pull middle aged men is insane" and he laughed so hard at that like threw back his head laughing hahaha, then I told him the joke like "i thought 39 [coworker's age] was bad, god said try 48 [clasmate's age]" which he also thought was funny.

he said "But we're in the clear now?" I said "yeah, no middle aged men trying to go after me" then he said, "yeah, any 50 year olds-" and stopped himself to ask, "Is that ok to say?" because not only was he joking about me being harassed by older men, but also joking about the progressing age gaps LOL I thought it was so funny

Also I was a little embarrassed during this whole convo because 1. I have a crush on him 2. he is an older, middle aged man and here I was talking about older, middle aged men harassing me 😭😭😭 he thought it was fine though and didn't mind talking about it

[luna-redamancy]

Sorry I'm late, but I just saw that requests were open, and I am in dire need of fluff.

So, either Sauron or Morgoth, your choice. Christmas/winter holiday fluff. Female reader takes some time off to go see her favorite person, and get some well deserved rest. One of her parents has been pestering her about getting her life together, but on their timeline instead of hers. This leads to a lot of tension and aggravation.

So, to help relieve some of that tension, and to put reader in a much better mood, the decision is made to make the holidays special for her.

Totally not based off the fact that my dad and I had a big fight/argument right before I left to see the rest of my family for Christmas.

Where is your dad located- I just want to talk- that's all, just a chat.

On a serious note, I am very sorry you had to deal with that, coming from a not so kind family myself I understand how horrible it feels. I hope this brings somewhat joy? I set it in a modern AU. Please let me know if you need anything- whether it's talking or another comfort fic!

“Why can’t you just be happy for me?” You cut off your mother, a disappointing frown on your face as you took in her annoyed expression. It was the holiday season and your employer was so kind to agree to your week-off request from the shop you worked at. 

You thought this year would be different- no, you yearned for this year to be different. To have what your coworkers did, where they discussed how kind their mother was to make their childhood favorites and their fathers weren’t too expressive but they were kind and gentle when it came down to it mattering. Why couldn’t you have that? 

“Why can’t you just say ‘(Y/n), I’m happy that you found happiness even if it’s not what I would’ve done,’ - Huh? Why?” You blinked back tears, angry ones, not the sad kind. 

“You need to be getting your life together, you can’t just waste it away staring at the wall!” Your father argued, never one to turn down an opportunity to be ‘right’ - and by ‘right’ he simply means to get the last word in or argue until you can’t deal with him anymore. 

“I’m not wasting it away, I’m doing perfectly well for myself!” 

“Other women your age are getting married, having kids for heaven's sake, and look at you. What’ve you achieved? Nothing.” 

Pausing, you looked up at your father. Instead of replying with a wicked tongue like how he thought you would, you simply shook your head. Taking the embroidered napkin out of your lap, you threw it over your dinner plate. Your chair screeched as it shoved backward whilst you stood. 

“Happy holidays, mother, and father,” You muttered as you exited the home, briefly pausing to grab your coat off the hook and slide your boots on your feet. You blocked out the sounds of shouting and cutlery slamming against the oak table as you exited into the winter night. You were so hopeful. 

-

“‘M home,” You softly announced, taking off your coat and placing it on your designated hook. You crouched down to take off your boots, your heart feeling heavy as you put them in line with Sauron’s. 

You could hear him humming to himself as he made a cup of hot chocolate, and the thought made you nearly grimace. Who were you to ruin his night? 

“(Y/n), is that you?” Sauron called, pausing in his steps back toward your shared bedroom. 

“Just me,” You called back, your voice sounding sadder than you wanted, making you wince. The last thing you wanted was to worry him. 

Standing back up, you brushed your leggings off, mentally giving yourself a pep-talk to keep it together until you got into the shower. There you could release all your frustrations without worry and it’ll be -

“You don’t look too good,” Sauron muttered, mostly to himself as he approached. You couldn’t deny the laugh that left your throat at his utterance, shaking your head in amusement.

“The visit didn’t go well, I’m guessing,” He spoke softly as he pulled your scarf from around your neck, hanging it right next to your coat. 

Sauron pulled you from the foyer, guiding you further into the warm home you two have created. 

Sitting you on the couch, he pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“Wait here,” He spoke against your flesh before disappearing back into the kitchen. Looking at the side table you realized he never made it to the bedroom with his hot chocolate, the whipped cream slowly melting and the cinnamon that was delicately sprinkled on top was now just brown blobs. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to-” You were cut off by a fresh mug of hot chocolate being thrust in your face. It was made similar to Sauron’s, although rather than cinnamon on top it was an extra bit of the hot chocolate mix- sprinkled on the fresh whipped cream. 

“No need to apologize, arimelda (Dearest),” Sauron would’ve scoffed if it was anyone else, but not you- never you. Instead his expression was soft, “Especially when it comes to expressing your feelings.” 

Sauron’s presence was like a warm blanket, wrapping round you and providing you with a serene feeling of safety and security.

Simply nodding, you accepted the warm beverage and out of the corner of your eye you could see him grin when you took a sip. 

“Now, how about we settle in and watch a movie?” Sauron grabbed a blanket off the blanket ladder, your favorite one, bringing it over to the couch and wrapping it around you before handing you the TV remote. 

“Or we could watch whatever you want, I have no preference” As long as I’m here with you. Catching onto his unsaid words, your heart fluttered in your chest. 

“You mean it?” 

“Of course, when would I lie to you?” He settled in next to you, his arm swinging over the backside of the couch, gently rubbing your shoulder as you began to search through the latest releases on your streaming account. 

Your holiday season may have gotten off to a bad start, but no way was Sauron going to let his beloved feel like dirt and not get to enjoy themselves. 

Forever Tag

@lady-of-lies @all-things-fandomstuck  @fizzyxcustard @izzydaelleth @aquaangel18 @raindancer2004 @love-colorfulglittercollection @ladylouoflothlorien @ten-tenya-iida @legolaslovely @bthtallmadge2 @abesottedlass @wilhelmyna @tigereyesf @aspookybunny @keijibum @moony-artnstuff @sirkekselord @guardianofrivendell @fluffymadamina @izbelross @fandomhoe101 @acahope311 @kitkatd7 @mooseetx @themerriweathermage @elvish-sky @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @laurfilijames @frequentlychangingfandoms @cameronsails @linasofia @starryeyedrogue  @shethereadinghobbit @beenovel @onlystarshere @fckmini @spidergirla5 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @myselfandfantasy @strange-old-worlds @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @broken-ghost @mbruben-stein @tschrist1 @hai-kbai

Sauron/Mairon- 

None Currently

[insidious-journalist]

Mixed Feelings, part 1. Out of the Fog.

It was one of those days that made Danny really regret not fixing his air conditioning. He couldn’t focus in the hot van he resided in, sweat beading down his forehead and onto the yellow pad sat on his lap, threatening to smudge his notes. It was a hotter than usual day in Florida and he was paying dearly for it, cursing under his breath for even going out today. But it was necessary, for today was an important day for him. It was the last day he would document his target until his design would come to fruition. A man in his early 20s, working for the local grocery store as a cashier and had a smile that just put people to ease. No roommates, not many friends, and a little too awkward for most people to tolerate. A victim he chose personally. In a few days their name would be plastered in the headlines, and he’d be gone for good.

But he’d be a liar if he were to tell anyone that this kill was entirely just for the headlines.

It started with a simple trip to the grocery store. Nothing special for Danny, really. He just needed some spices he was lacking at home, along with eggs and a loaf of bread. Simple. Easy. But as he was placing his things onto the conveyor belt a voice caught his attention. “How’d you get that scar?” He blinked, confused and not expecting to be talked to as his gaze lifted to meet the green eyes of the cashier. The man he’d come to know as Brennan immediately turned sheepish, eyes lowering back to scan his items as he apologized in earnest. “Sorry, that’s personal, don’t mind me. Bad habit.” Danny didn’t consider asking inappropriate questions to strangers as a “bad habit”. Regardless, he laughed it off and shook his head. It was time to be friendly and sociable, a front he was well acquainted with.

“Pool accident. I was a dumb kid and didn’t listen to my parents about running around the poolside, and nearly cracked open my head on the tiles. Don’t worry about it.” False. Sharing a funny childhood story was always a good way to get people to laugh and not think into things too much, and he had multiple different stories relating to the scars on his forehead. This one was just for small talk. It added to his persona, making him perhaps seem clumsy or dimwitted. The man fell into it, snorting and looking at him with amusement and a warm smile. “Hey, at least something cool came out of it. Sorry again, I just kinda... say what’s on my mind, yaknow? No clue how that hasn’t given me some scars of my own yet, but hey, there’s a time for everything...”

Talkative. Not exactly his favorite kind of person but he could work with this. It was his turn to chuckle. “Really, It’s fine. I’m used to getting stares like that anyways, so I’ll just add you to the bunch.” “Not a surprise in the slightest considering how it kinda compliments your whole rugged look. I kinda dig it.” The man before Danny froze up, no doubt speaking his mind too much and regretting opening his mouth. His reaction made it very clear that he found Danny attractive, probably why he noticed the scar in the first place. Had he been starring? Brennan’s face flushed a warm red color and he quickly finished ringing up his stuff, practically squeaking out the total and looking like he wished he could vanish into his uniform. The awkward tension in the air was thick enough that it felt suffocating.

And worst of all, Danny returned the blush and stared in awe at the flustered man avoiding his gaze like the plague. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to compliments, even vaguely flirtatious ones. His work space had enough room for banter and female coworkers occasionally complimented his hair, admired his eyes and praised the way he presented himself. It was all a front to keep up his image however. Not too much as to stand out, but enough to give an air of professionalism to himself that made others more willing to be on his good side. This though... it was out of nowhere. Unprovoked. He hadn’t put serious effort into his appearance today and it caught him off guard.

 It took Danny a second to realize he had to pay and he cleared his throat, fishing the money out of his wallet and completing the transaction with a courtesy nod. And it was done. He was out of the store quickly with the groceries in hand, not even sparing the cashier a second glance as he rushed for his car. It wasn’t a big deal. Danny was being dramatic. But no matter how much he acknowledged the overreaction he still had to take a second in his van to calm down. The reaction that brought out of him felt... overwhelming. Uncomfortable. He felt exposed, too seen for comfort.

He couldn’t get that dumb awkward cashier out of his head, and as he drove out of the parking lot he made a vow on the spot to not only never shop there, but to avoid the man at all costs lest this happened again.