#cheat sheet lol

[ryucreates]

auggie gus gaugigdfgh

[blazewoodss]

Made a little doodle in my notes app coloured in haphazardly with the highlighter tool in honour of St Patties day today, of course featuring everyone’s favourite lean mean green machine 🔥

[tetedurfarm]

the hotots living with my friend after their mom died are becoming the subjects of a nature vs nurture experiment that is going shockingly well. he's become quite a house favourite

[snapcracklepop-myjoints]

do u have a reccomendation for what form of shorthand to learn first. deeply interested-- i saw ur reply on that one post and then u seem cool so i just followed u and figured i would ask here

hello !!! thank you for asking !!!!!!!!!! and im so sorry this is so long lol

If you want my biased personal recommendation, I would suggest Pitman New Era. That's what I use, and I think its the best balance of efficiency vs difficulty to learn, and I like that the learning curve is such that, as you learn, you apply more rules that simplify the writing process more (meaning that earlier practice is still legible, if far less efficient). This compared to other forms (like Gregg) where, as you learn, youre just kind of generally suffering and trying to get your brain to memorise things and differentiate very similar looking strokes. I find Pitman also lends itself well to using in conjunction with other "standard" writing styles so you can take notes that are enough in "standard" writing to be skimmable while using enough shorthand to be much faster to write, basically maninmising writeing AND reading speed. [example below]

You can skip to the end for resources for Pitman and shorthand in general if this answer is sufficient :)

If you want a horrifically long, massively autistic answer that breaks down the three most popular/common styles, then thats what the rest of the post is !! It is so fucking long I am so sorry

Horrifically Long Answer:

I'm answering on the assumption that you would be learning for use with english. If you want to learn shorthand for another language there are a variety of options however I am less versed in them :( I'm also assuming you're asking out of personal interest rather than vocational, since certain jobs will recommend or require you learn certain styles of shorthand and it would be best to defer to that.

The most popular methods are Gregg, the various forms of Pitman (this is what I use), and Teeline. Gregg and Pitman are phonemic while Teeline is alphabetical. There are also a huge number of other, less popular forms of shorthand (as well as shorthand systems which are popular in/made for other languages). If you're interested in learning about these, check out the subreddit listed at the end of this post under "resources".

Teeline:

I know much less about Teeline, so I'll go into it less, but basically it is a "spelling-based" shorthand system -- that is, it is based off the standard spelling of words. It replaces latin letters which different forms that are faster to write and can be connected more efficiently, while removing extraneous letters from words. It is simpler to learn, in part because it is spelling-based, and also because it has fewer rules which further consolidate and shorten word forms. Due to this, it is ultimately much slower to write than the other two systems mentioned here (although you can still get up to good speeds !!). Like the other shorthand systems, you can learn to a more basic extent, or learn more advanced theory to maximise its capability and speed. Teeline is very standard for journalism and overall quite popular for professional use, however it is still in copyright and so there are far fewer resources available online. If you are interested in taking classes, however, I would assume those are available.

Teeline TL;DR: alphabetical, simplest to learn but less efficient, popular, still in copyright so fewer resources.

examples of Teeline:

[images sourced from wiki]

Pitman and Gregg: Phonemic Systems and Regional Accents:

As mentioned, Gregg and Pitman are phonemic. If you dont have any practice with phonemic writing systems, you might have luck starting out with shavian just to practice. also because shavian is fun :) (its one of the writing systems in my header !) Im saying this partly because I want more people to learn shavian and partly because I learned Shavian long before I learned Pitman and found that having that practice was helpful. In particular, if you have any accent other than RP, its helpful for figuring out either which vowel sounds and phonetic spellings are relevant to your accent and your pronunciation, or, should you choose to go a "standard" (RP) route, how certain words should be spelled despite how you may pronounce them. Using a "standard" RP approach can be helpful if you want people to more easily be able to read your writing or want to "match" the dictionary, but someone well versed in shorthand should be able to figure it out no matter what, and if its just for your personal use I'd suggest just going by your own regional pronunciations.

Pitman:

Pitman was an early shorthand system developed in the early to mid 1800s. It used to be the most popular shorthand system, however nowadays has been eclipsed in popularity by Teeline and/or Gregg, depending on the country and occupational context. However, it remains popular among enthusiasts and there are significant amount of resources available for learners and practitioners.

The main thing to know with Pitman is that words are built using different strokes for each consonant sound, and symbols attached to these consonants to mark vowels. These consonant sounds are differentiated by shape as well as line thickness. Voiced and unvoiced pairs of consonants (eg., T and D, C and G, S and Z, etc.) are designated using the same strokes, with the voiced consonant of the pair being thicker than the other. This line variation is something which is normally achieved with a pencil, though I mostly use fountain pens to write and so I use flex nibs to achieve the same effect.

Vowels are marked with certain dots or dashes placed along corresponding consonant markings, For increased writing speed, most vowel markings can also be left off in Pitman, and instead where on the line the first stroke begins serves to signal the first vowel.

Pitman uses short forms (also called "logograms" or "grammalogues," depending on the version and book you use) which are abbreviated forms of commonly used words (see picture below for a few examples). Different versions of Pitman have different numbers of grammalogues.

With Pitman, efficiency is increased through a combination of memorising various short forms and implementing rules which simplify strokes. (Examples of these can be seen in the picture below. probably need to click to be able to actually see anything rip) This allows you to have certain "levels" of complexity, where as you learn more complex rules you increase in efficiency, but you can also eschew some of those rules if they are too complex for you without sacrificing legibility to you or proficient practitioners. Probably someone somewhere on reddit has something to say about that but tbh who gives a fuck. You can do whatever you want forever. Its known to be very common for people to come up with their own personal shortcuts and variations in whatever shorthand system they use, and imo sometimes that just means looking at a rule and going "well thats stupid👍" and ignoring it. Pitman can seem really intimidating, however just remember that you can ignore rules for as long as you want until they are less intimidating to learn and apply.

There are 3 "main" versions of Pitman: the original system, Pitman New Era, and Pitman 2000. New Era has the most complex system of rules and abbreviations, while 2000 simplified many of these and got rid of most of the abbreviations. I personally use New Era, in part because I was able to access more resources for this, but largely because I found the increased number of rules and abbreviations to be better in the long run. If you are willing to invest more time and effort into learning a more complicated system, with the tradeoff that it will be faster and easier once you are proficient, you should learn New Era. The main benefit of 2000 is that the rules are simplified. I would say, however, that the downsizing of the list of abbreviations is not a benefit. While it in theory requires you to memorise more individual symbols, in practice these abbreviations are commonly used enough that they can become automatic with very little practice. If you decide to learn 2000, I would suggest taking he time to go through the list of abbreviations from New Era and, if not learning all of them, picking out the ones you think you are likely to use with semi-regularity. If you compile them into a cheat sheet and hand it next to your desk, they should be easy to practice using and become memorised really quickly. I myself dont have every abbreviation memorised, but instead focused on ones i use regularly, and often go through the list again to pick out new ones to learn and add to my lexicon as I think they may be used.

Pitman TL;DR: phonemic, differentiates strokes through line thickness, rules can be applied or discarded as best suits your practice without sacrificing readability. Increased speed and efficiency is achieved through extra short forms for commonly used words, and rules which simplify strokes.

examples of Pitman:

[first image mine, other two images sourced from Long Live Pitman's (website, linked below), and wiki]

Gregg:

Gregg is a very popular form of shorthand which utilises round, smooth strokes with the intent of increasing writing efficiency and legibility.

Where Pitman uses variation in line thickness to differentiate between strokes, Gregg uses line length. Both consonants and vowels are marked with designated strokes (compared to Teeline, which has vowel strokes but tends to omit them where possible, and Pitman, which adds vowel marking to consonant strokes or signals vowels through figure placement), and vowels are largely kept in-line. With Gregg, efficiency is achieved through the use of short forms, prefixes, and suffixes; "phrasing", (wherein certain phrases, such as "I may be," "one of the most," "by the," etc. are combined into a single stroke); as well as through the more efficient way in which strokes are joined together into words.

Left-handed people sometimes write Gregg from right to left.

Like Pitman, there are a number of different versions of Gregg, however Gregg seems to have significantly more versions and significantly less consensus around which version is best or why. I am not the best person to give advice on which one is best or information on the different types, so if you decide to go with Gregg I'd suggest checking out the subreddit or some of the other resources linked below for information on that.

examples of Gregg:

[Images sourced from wiki and gregg-shorthand.com]

Comparisons:

I would say that one of the main things to consider if choosing between Gregg and Pitman is which you think is more intuitive to read and write for you. Which sounds obvious lol but like. as an example. I struggle with spatial awareness and stuff like estimating lengths so for me Gregg is not a good option since it differentiates certain consonants through their length and I would have a hard time writing those consistently or easily reading them. Pitman is easier for me in that regard, as well as since it is more "choppy" (for lack of better word) which makes it much easier for me to recognise certain words without having to break them down, as well as making it easier for me to break them down to read them should I need to. On the other hand, some people find Gregg to be easier since its much "smoother" and flowier to write, which can be much faster and more intuitive for some.

Compared to Pitman, Gregg has significantly fewer rules to learn, making it in theory simpler, however, due to the way it is written, it requires significantly more practice to be able to consistently properly write and tell apart certain letters, words, and phrases. Once you are proficient in this, it is by far more efficient, however Gregg is very difficult to use while you are still figuring it out. Pitman, on the other hand, has significantly more rules, however you can continue to easily use it as you learn these rules and add them into your practice. The downside of this is that once you are fully proficient, it is less efficient than full proficiency Gregg. Essentially, the main difficulty with learning Gregg is telling apart different strokes and writing them so that they can be differentiated, while the main difficulty with Pitman is in learning the rules.

I havent talked much about Teeline because honestly I know far less about it, because it is so much harder to find resources on, and honestly because I'm a bit of an old man and personally prefer the older styles lol. Its popular for a reason, though !

I know it probably sounds like I'm shilling a lot for Pitman, however thats just because its what I use and know the most about, as well as because it is what works best for my unique considerations. Most people would probably be more likely to recommend Gregg (for a number of very good reasons !), however when I was first deciding which shorthand system to learn I saw very few people making the points that were most relevant to me (eg, that pitman can be used AS you learn, whereas Gregg is more of a "its useless until you actually have it down" situation, that Gregg is really difficult if you struggle with differentiating lengths, etc) so I feel the need to mention them

TL;DR: Everything:

Ultimately you should use whatever you think is best for you :) I'd say Teeline is your best bet if you are in journalism, or want something easier. Gregg is best if you want something popular, smoother to write, and extremely fast, and are willing and able to put in significant amounts of consistent work and practice to master it. Pitman is best if you want something you can use as you learn, and that's somewhere in between Teeline and Gregg in terms of difficulty and efficiency. If you wanted, you could probably learn Teeline as well as either Pitman or Gregg, but learning both Pitman and Gregg would be much more difficult.

Other:

I take all my notes by hand, generally using a mix of palmer method cursive and pitman shorthand to do so, however, I also have to write a lot of papers, and when I do, I get frustrated at having to type out whole words I normally write in shorthand. This is kind of the curse of shorthand, you get really annoyed having to type out "because". To deal with this, while typing in a word processor, I use an alphabetic shorthand I've come up with over time. I basically input a bunch of auto-replacements into my spellcheck, so that I can have shortcuts for commonly used words set up. so basically i can write: "here, . cnstrctn ` ntnl idntty served to lgtmse the ntn stte" and it will autocorrect to "here, the construction of national identity served to legitimise the nation state". Highly recommend this if you do a lot of writing, especially if a lot of the same topics and words come up a lot. Use whatever shortened versions feel intuitive for you, instead of something you've consciously + intentionally constructed, otherwise youre more likely to forget them or have them get mixed up.

Resources:

stenophile.com has a huge number of shorthand resources linked, particularly for Gregg and Pitman. If you end up choosing either of these I'd suggest starting here to find instruction books.

this website can transliterate into Pitman and Gregg, DEK and Stolze-Schrey (two German shorthand systems), and Sütterlinschrift (a historical German script)(also in my header !)

r/fastwriting is run by a very nice very dedicated man who posts a huge amount of content and resources on various shorthand methods, including lesser known ones. If you decide you want to learn/learn about a different shorthand system, he's the guy to talk to. This subreddit differs from r/shorthand or system-specific subreddits like r/greggshorthand, as those are more discussion-based for learners and practitioners, while r/fastwriting is better for research and being autistic. R/shorthand does have a number of resources listed for more popular shorthand systems, and is a good place to go for advice while learning.

Teeline:

blog with a few free resources

Pitman:

Pitman New Era Instructor and Dictionary. These are what I largely used to learn.

Long Live Pitman's: a website dedicated to Pitman, full of good information for beginning learners.

if you learn Pitman, as mentioned the line variation can be accomplished with a pencil, however if you want to get a bit fancy with it while staying on a budget, Fountain Pen Revolution carries a number of cheap yet reliable fountain pens with flex nibs, such as the FPR Indus or Himalaya. I'd suggest the steel flex rather than the ultra-flex for shorthand unless you have a lighter hand or have practiced with a flex pen before. I've also heard good things about the Noodler's Ahab pen but honestly find its very temperamental, needs tweaking (not ideal if youre a fp beginner) and just not as good. Both FPR and Noodler's pens are made of bioresin and must be kept away from solvents like isopropyl alcohol !!!

Gregg:

Gregg Phrasebook. Short guide to phraseology for Gregg

Gregg-shorthand.com: seems like a good place to start for learning Gregg. Answers some beginner's questions, and provides learning aids and reading material (transliterated into Gregg)

r/greggshorthand

greggshorthand.gibhub.io: a more in depth website with a number of book pdfs and lessons for various forms of Gregg.

[milkiekid]

i want to post more on here. i’ve been feeling especially small as of late and i want to connect to a safe community on here, bc everyone here is so sweet and nonjudgmental. idk how to go about doing that but i’ll try to be more active ! everybody plz feel free to reach out and interact and chat with me

[lovinggreeniehours]

at this point i have half a mind to make mammon's outfit just him dipped in a giant tub of golden glitter glue. i am TIRED okay

[ameriel]

:-)c

[confines]

rarely do i allow the full wave of us politics-related agony to wash over me but the other day i did see some people talking about who should be running instead of biden and the candidates of note were bernie, rfk jr, hillary, and kamala and i did start to feel very sick, sweaty, feverish, and generally unwell lol.

[romanovsonelastdance]

Follow-up to this post. Some examples of my recent purchases with the scanned ones from the collection that is clearly being sold off.

The only differences are the additions of the numbers written in pencil. These are most likely acquisition numbers assigned by the postcard shop that bought the collection as whole and is now selling it off as individual cards.

[kuiinncedes]

my focus was not that good thru out the day but it's nonexistent now lmao 🤩

[watery-melon-baller]

im actually so fucked for my math exam on Tuesday,,,, im taking diffeq and the last time I did any calc was literally last spring when I took calc 2 so im rusty as HELLLLLL,,,,,, this is the calc equivalent of trying to learn algebra when you're still struggling with PEMDAS </3

[blkkizzat]

IF U WANT MY BABY—U KNOW IMMA DRIVE U MAD.ᐟ

꒰ა NANAMI KENTO X BIMBO!READER ໒꒱

꒰ა summary ໒꒱ : is it really baby-trapping if you both want a baby?

꒰ა cw ໒꒱ : heavy manipulation, heavy smut, edging, begging, breeding, baby trapping, slightly yandere Nanami, drugging kinda lol, cock drunk, pussy drunk, bunny/bimbo reader. ꒰ა a/n ໒꒱ : been getting alot of asks here and ao3 about p3 of the nursery. with everything going on, i dont have the focus to write it cause the next part is gonna be gaggy and theres alot of loose ends to be tied. but i've been thinking about baby trapping too much lately, actually non-stop and since i can't write toji baby trapping, nanami is the next best thing! ꒰ა wc ໒꒱ : 3073

Baby-trapping Nanami...so you don't care when he can't find the condoms that are usually in the bedside table—especially when your body is currently vibrating with the aftershocks of his skillful tongue from what seems like hours of tortuous foreplay.

Yet, ever the gentlemen, Nanami pauses, asking if you want him to stop and see if he left them downstairs.

Instantly, tears well in your eyes and you're sputtering, groping the air at him with grabby hands.

"J-Just forget 'em— n-need you b-bad K-Ken!”

Maybe a little too eagerly, you manage to sit up, hands reaching for the firm flesh of Nanami’s muscular hips—too broad to fully grasp in your small palms. Your sweat-slick fingers nearly slip off his skin as you weakly tug him closer, guiding him toward you with a soft, breathless urgency.

Fuck. The. Condoms.

To be honest, they weren't in the drawer anyway.

And you know that.

You know that because you're the one who tossed them outside earlier—into your neighbors trash bin two doors down of all places too, for good measure.

A fleeting thought occurs in this moment though, that you might have caused irreconcilable problems if either the husband or wife of the couple found them and accused the other of cheating.

But again, the thought truly is fleeting as holding a single thought is much too difficult when Nanami is tentatively dipping his swollen cockhead in and out of your pussy. Gathering up the syrupy nectar already flowing from your cunny, his thick bulbous tip swipes back up through your folds to forcefully push into your clit.

"H-Hurry n'put it in raw, K-Ken!"

Because that's exactly what you wanted.

TAP!

TAP!

TAP!

Yet the only answer you receive is the wet squelching slaps of Nanami continuously bullying your soaked puffy bud with his length. Each sharp, soggy tap making a random limb of yours twitch in pleasure, you stomach knots up in anticipation as you wither underneath the shadow of his hulking form over you.

Simply put: You're a mess.

Already teetering on the edge, your body thrums with need. You whimper, hips wiggling upward in a silent plea, hoping his slick, precum-slicked cock—already glistening with your juices—might catch on your fluttering entrance and slip inside. But to your dismay, one of his massive hands—easily strong enough to pin you down—holds you firmly in place, denying you even that.

"Aht-Aht... That's a bit reckless... don't you think, my sweet doll?"

The way your face immediately crumbs into a petulant pout causes rich, dark chuckles to spill from Nanami's lips which only deepens your dismay.

Fuck!

Your plan was to get him too turned on, too eager to sink into your open, wet, and willing hole that he wouldn't be the perfect-cautious-selfless boyfriend and just raw you. However, your plan spectacularly backfired—because now he’s just aching to take his time and ruin you thoroughly instead.

The sheets dampened dark with your arousal is proof enough. Instead, you're the one on your back, too wound up from his probing fingers causing your slick to overflow and pool on your thighs countless times already tonight.

You’re so lost in the pleasure-drenched stupor clouding your senses that you completely miss the sly glint buried beneath the stormy lust in Nanami’s eyes.

Nanami is well aware you are so desperate for his hard pulsing cock inside of you that protection is the furthest thing from your mind, even if he hadn't gotten you so spectacularly fucked out on foreplay alone.

Frankly, Nanami had known since last week that his deceitful, slutty little princess was trying to get pregnant. To his surprise, you’d been attempting it all on your own—sneaking extra prenatal vitamins behind his back like a brat.

Keyword: Extra.

Nanami who is also baby-trapping you...because he'd already been slipping you a daily dose of prenatals in your morning smoothie he makes you before you'd run out the door for work.

You hate breakfast so early in the morning, so Nanami makes you an extra caloric nutrient-dense smoothie in order to prepare your body for the baby. Breakfast, of course, is the most important meal of the day and what kind of responsible family figurehead would he be if he let you skip it?

However what frustrates Nanami is he'd truly have no idea how desperate you aref or his kids if he hadn't taken it upon himself to peek inside your weekly pill dispenser to make sure none of the vitamins you were already taking were harmful to pregnancy.

To Nanami's utter shock, you'd actually wanted his children.

You were sly, he'd give you that.

You never outright bought a prenatal vitamin.

But you had enough of the various individual supplements inside of one. Of course, it would simply look like you were just overly health-conscious to anyone who hadn't done extensive research on the nutrients and hormones needed to succeed in getting pregnant—which of course Nanami had done, going to the best pharmacist in the area for a special compound blend.

Nothing but the best for the future mother of his children.

Nevertheless, Nanami still relishes in this moment.

Drawing out agonizing cries from you with just his cock prodding in and out your twitching cunt that's desperate to be plugged and filled. Your fluttering muscles grip him eagerly, just short of being able to suck him in, thrills him just as your needy whimpers do.

"But K-Kennnnnn!"

"Shhh, now quiet, my love... you'll know I'll satisfy you even if its not with my cock."

Nanami's threats are empty of course, but you didn't know that.

You needed a taste of your own medicine.

Did you even know what you put him through?

This was your punishment.

How could you know badly he wanted to openly breed you?

How much he'd been fiending to throw you in to a mating press and repeatedly fuck his seed into you?

Nanami had always gritted his teeth to keep from growling the filth he truly wanted to say when your silky cunny gripped his cock just right, milking him like it was made for it. He wasn’t getting any younger—and the thought of how much seed he’d wasted in condoms over the last year gnawed at him. All that cum, when he could’ve been spilling it straight into your fertile little womb where it belonged.

But most importantly—did you know how much he'd beaten himself up for wanting to do it?

Nanami had debated for sometime now on broaching the subject of kids with you, but he couldn't be selfish when you are so excited for your new and already thriving career.

He was the older one.

The one whom by other's opinions probably should have already had a few kids running around by now.

Yet he'd never even wanted them—until he found you.

Nanami only wanted kids with you and he wanted them now.

He couldn't wait.

Now when his proverbial clock was so ticking loudly in his ears and the only therapy he needed to cease his fears of mortality was to fill your womb with his children. Now all Nanami can envision is how beautiful you would look, belly full, glowing even brighter than you do now—hot and needy under him.

Nanami's thoughts, which used to be filled with boardroom meetings and hedge funds, now race with how exactly to child-proof the 4 extra bedrooms in his home. For sometime now he's been building intricate plans on how to convert them into various children's rooms and a nursery.

He's been longing to do it together with you though, just itching to consult you on the wallpaper color schemes and wood types for the crib.

Sure he's being selfish.

But Nanami could provide—and isn't that what really mattered?

Nanami had already amassed a fortune from a very long and fruitful business. He'd gladly be a stay at home dad so you could resume your career, with zero pressures as to finances, as soon as you were on your feet again.

And you would be too, eventually—once you gave him at least 3 or 4 children to keep him young and on his toes while you were busy being a powerful career woman.

Yet now that Nanami knew his naughty bunny was purposefully trying to get knocked up—poking holes in the condoms for an accidental pregnancy simply wasn't doing enough anymore.

Not when his devious baby girl was already trying so hard to have his.

"Puhleaseeee K-Kento!"

Snapping him from his deranged daze, your smaller hand wraps around his wrist, sliding up his arm to scrape your kitten nails along his biceps. Nanami looks down at the well of tears now overflowing from your flushed cheeks. Your lip quivers as you're still begging, moaning pleas all the while for him to give you his cock. The very cock that is now drenched, dripping with your juices and his pre just from just a bit of mindless rubbing.

You're so close to falling to complete and utter pieces—and truly, that's Nanami's ultimate goal—to break you.

Nanami wants to push you beyond your limits until you're frantically confessing how much you wanted him to impregnate you all this time. Nanami could then keep you on your back, legs spread wide—forcibly chain to the bed, if necessary—until you were with his child.

Tease you until you begged him to dump inside of you over and over, however many times was needed, until his seed finally took.

You must think it's all your idea first after all.

It's the only way Nanami would be able to live with himself for wanting to trap you in the first place.

With not much warning besides a gruff grunt, Nanami swiftly thrusts forward—plunging his cock inside your suffocatingly slick warmth until he is hitting deep into the back of your cunt, fat tip squishing up against your cervix.

The very womb where his child would soon be growing.

You gasp out a breathless cry, the wind knocked from your lungs as your back arches off the bed, eyes rolling into your skull. Your legs coil around him tightly, clinging to him like you’re terrified he might pull away—still lost in that ecstasy-drunk haze that believes he might have second thoughts and pull out.

But little do you know Nanami can feel it—how your slick is thicker, richer, syrupy with ovulation. Your needy cunt practically melts around his cock, already creaming so much that it dribbles down his base to pool at his balls.

Clear signs that your body is ready to be bred.

The extra viscous drippings are stickier against both of your perspiring bodies that are slamming together at increasing frenzy as Nanami picks up speed.

He's usually one to talk you through it, gently build a pace so your body can adjust, but the feel of your ultra sensitive, quivering pussy along with the dense smell of sweet hormones in the air is driving Nanami into a wild frenzy.

You whine at the loss of body heat when Nanami pulls back slightly, but he has a primal need to see you impregnated in real time. The way your sweet pussy splits open so well on his girth, welcoming him and sucking him in deeper has Nanami groaning out nonsensical praises for you and your tight-soon-to-be-a-mommy pussy.

Nanami's big hands travel up your curves to press down on your belly causing you to keen sharply in pleasure. If you could pry your eyes from the back of your head, or register any other feeling than his massive length drilling into you—you may have noticed the way Nanami's hands are practically worshiping the flesh over your womb.

Cupping it, molding it and rubbing the soft chub of your stomach with his thumbs, watching your cute lil’ belly button dip and contract as he feels his own length through the walls of muscles plunging into you even deeper.

The room feels like a sauna now as hot sweat drips from Nanami's face onto yours and he's biting his lip in order to keep from drooling onto you and losing complete control.

The unintentional consequence of it all is that he’s riled himself up beyond reason—his grip on control slipping fast. He meant to fuck you into submission, but the moment he sheathed his cock in your fertile, gooey heat, he lost—completely pussy drunk.

So utterly obsessed with the way your body is already changing, softening, ripening to carry a child, he hasn’t even fucked a confession out of you yet and he just might cum any second now.

Yet Nanami can't stop to edge you now even if he wanted, it would be far more impossible for him—not when your womb is so ripe, so warm and fertile—is just begging to be impregnated.

You can feel Nanami's thick cock pulsing hard against your walls as he grinds deeper against your cervix, his hands finally leaving your stomach to grip your ass, angling your hips up off the bed in the most perfect way to directly shoot his seed into you.

Willing your eyes open, you catch a glimpse of just how pussy drunk Nanami is at the moment. Head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut and using your pussy like a personal fleshlight. Squeezing down on him tighter you feel the blunt edges of his nails dig deeper into your ass cheeks.

Did your plan work after all?

He certainly didn't look like a man ready to pull out right now.

Wanting to seal the deal, you bite your lip, timing your finisher for the exact moment your orgasm crests—when your pussy clenches down around him, vice-tight and trembling with need.

Your hands hover instinctively over your womb, drawing his gaze as your squeaky moans grow needier, slurred with pleasure.

“S’ohhh g-good K-Kennn!”

One hand leaves the soaked bedsheets to trace a shaky finger down your sweat-slicked belly, circling right over where you want it most—right over your womb.

“C-Cum in me… right here D-Daddy, kay?”

And yeah. That did it.

Nanami growls as he cums hard—buckets spilling deep inside you, cock twitching violently with each pulse of white-hot fluids painting your walls and filling your belly.

You’d never called him Daddy before now.

Nanami suspected it sat on the tip of your tongue, but you’d always held back—too shy, too coy. Not anymore. Now, you’re debased, ruined, fucked down to your rawest instincts of procreation.

It’s not the full confession Nanami craved, but it’s close enough—for now.

Your own release detonates in pulsing waves from the pleasure of feeling him cum inside. Electric sparks shatter through you as stars bloom behind your eyelids. Heavily panting, your body is utterly spent beneath Nanami, still gushing around his cock—grasping his length so tight you nearly push him back out. 

Yet Nanami’s cock still nestled deep in your swollen, oversensitive pussy that is greedy for more, spasming and milking every drop of his load, your womb refusing to let a drop go to waste. You’re so deliriously happy at the thought of being pregnant from this—so absolutely cock-drunk—that if you could catch your breath, you’d giggle.

Nanami watches you struggle to even move, your chest rising and falling in uneven pants, and fuck, he feels it again—that deep, gut-level need to keep you here, keep you stuffed, keep you full. He already knows one load isn’t enough, not when you’re still squeezing around him, like your pussy doesn’t want to let him go either.

Yet relcutantly Nanami presses a kiss to your damp forehead before pulling out with a wet, obscene squelch, groaning as his cum leaks out of your twitching hole, pooling between your folds like it belongs there. He admires it for a moment, pushing a little back in before going to the adjoining bathroom to get a warm cloth to wipe you down. 

When Nanami returns, you whimper at the sensation of the terry cloth brushing over your still-hypersensitive skin. Nanami wipes you down gently, though a knowing smirk tugs at his lips when you squirm and swat his hand away the moment he dares to touch between your legs.

“No, m’too sensitive…” 

You pout, squirming away from the damp cloth.

In truth, it’s not just the sensitivity—you just don’t want him wiping away any precious lil swimmers that might still be making their way to your womb.

“Just my legs and tummy are fine, Daddy…”

Nanami suppresses a smirk, already knowing why. 

“No problem, my love.” 

Humming softly, Nanami kisses your ankle as he finishes and folds the washcloth away.

You smile a sweet sheepish smile at him.

“Oh and um, m’kinda hungry too…”

God, you’re spoiled rotten.

Nanami knows it’s sill much too early, even after a good fuck for you to be hungry.  You’re just trying to get rid of him. He knows exactly what you’ll do the moment he’s out of sight—he’s nearly walked in on you doing it before. Just like always, you’ll prop your legs up against the headboard, ever the superstitious little thing. 

Nanami huffs a quiet laugh, already picturing it: you, still trembling, your pussy leaking and twitching, wearing that blissed-out, cumdrunk smile better than the finest couture gowns he’s bought you. 

But you won’t do it until he leaves—you never do. 

So with one last glance over at his shoulder at your beautifully fucked out form on the bed, he runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair and heads toward the kitchen.

Nanami’s determined to feed you regardless of if you're actually hungry. If you’re planning to raise his child, you’ll need your strength—and any chance to nourish you, he’ll take it.

And you need your supplement too, just to give nature a little extra push.

It’s Saturday, so this time he’ll mix it into the pancake batter. Nanami will bring you breakfast in bed, making sure you eat every last bite—none the wiser—while sipping the fresh juice he always makes just for you. All the while, he’ll be stretching out your sore, well-used limbs beneath the sheets.

Because Nanami isn’t actually going to let you leave the bed anytime soon.

He’s going to fuck at least three more loads into you before noon, after all.

Plenty of time to drag that confession out of you—make you admit you’ve been trying to get pregnant all along.

And if you don’t? Well.

Nanami smiles to himself, flipping the stove burner on.

You’re not leaving that bed until you do.

꒰ა a/n ໒꒱ : wanted to get this out before i left but it didn't work out. im actually on the plane rn. sorry if there are errors I will fix when i get some downtime. landing in amsterdam then 4hr layover until we get to portugal! follow me over on my main/personal @punanami if you want updates on that.

please reblog and leave me nice comments to look at while im on vaycay <3

[sodaliteskull]

Marenkes: Architecture Through The Ages

0-130 Nomadic Era

Forsaken by the Gods, beset by creatures that could only be described as demons, the people of Marenkes were forced to abandon their permanent structure homes in order to go on the run and survive. As such, architecture needed to be portable, as easy to take down as it was to put up, so tents were the mainstay for this era. Function rather than form, most tents were unadorned hide over a simple wooden structure, with woven fabric being incorporated as the years went on and people managed to scrape together enough time to create textiles. Due to the very real chance that they may need to flee for their lives before they could pack up their tents, people rarely wasted time on decorating their structures, instead saving the personalization for things that they would be almost guaranteed to be able to take with them at a moment's notice, such as their clothes and weapons.

130-4000 Theocratic Era

Under the guidance and protection of the gods, the people of Marenkes flourished, spreading across the globe and setting up permanent residences. Nearly every facet of life was dedicated to the veneration of the gods, and so religious iconography was everywhere when it came to architecture. Thanks to the stability of their new way of life, wood, clay, stone, and metal became the go-to building materials. Statuary, murals, stained glass, mosaics, all of these opulent works of art were created with one goal in mind - to highlight the glory of the gods. The style is overwrought, the "too-much gene" on full display: bright colours, precious metals and stones, a confusing cacophony of images. This is meant to overwhelm the viewer, to make them feel small when viewing the splendour of the divine. Magic is used to fill religious buildings with light, while people are forced to use flames or rely on outside lighting to illuminate their homes. Only in-home shrines were allowed to be lit with magical means, and so people would often have them in the central living spaces in their home. This was by the design of the gods, to keep themselves central in the lives of their followers.

4000-8000 Rebellion Era

Tired of being under the thumb of divinity, some people fled to the Zielsten caverns underground, where they were shielded from the sight of the gods. Using magic, they were able to shape Zielsten into dwellings. Some favoured having buildings made entirely from Zielsten, while others would use Zielsten as framing, over which they would attach a facade of clay or stone. Others, still, prefer wholly stone or clay buildings. Above ground, during the earlier parts of this era, architecture changed little in terms of both design and building material. If anything, the religious designs became more overt than they already were, as the gods tightened their grip on the followers that they still had. With the introduction of the Opiri to the ecosystem, and their resilient carapaces, the empty shells of these creatures were integrated into the architectural styling of dwellings both above and below ground.

8000-8700 Advancement Era

Free from divine constraints, yet under constant threat from the now unchecked Opiri, defensible fortifications became the mainstay in this era. Thanks to an unfettered industrial revolution, techniques were developed to render down the solid Opiri carapaces into a more malleable substance - Opiri Concrete. This bone white material became the all-but-exclusive building material of the age. The architecture of this age was more brutalist, built for function more than form. With the advent of indoor lighting that wasn't fire or solar/lunar reliant, windows fell out of fashion, as they were a structural weakness against constant Opiri attacks. Only those with money to spare, or a statement to make, would clad their homes in wood or stone facades. As time progressed, lighting features became more and more elaborate, and so by the tail end of this era, neon marquees and holographic displays festooned the slab-like faces of every building, a technicolour overlay on a brutal world.

8700-8800 Eschaton Era

Thanks to an unknown disaster that rendered the surface of the world uninhabitable, the people of Marenkes were once again forced to make their homes underground, moving into the long abandoned Zielsten structures of their ancestors. This was a period of architectural rediscovery and experimentation, moving away from the cacophonous designs of their religious history, and the stark brutalism of their more recent past, into more open, welcoming layouts.

8800-9600 Modern Era

Upon returning to a revitalized surface, people discovered that the Opiri Concrete ruins left behind were still mostly usable, though the technique of creating Opiri Concrete had been lost. Instead, people would break down shattered slabs into bricks, and mortar those together in order to build their dwellings. Thanks to the advent of the Opiri Slayers, the Opiri became less and less of a threat, and so more buildings in the latter half of this era were built with other, more easily workable materials. Rather than the hegemonic oversight of the gods or the government dictating the architectural style of the day, people instead began building homes in response to the ecosystem they lived in, using local materials to keep out the unique climate in the places they decided to call home. As such, architectural style in the modern age is more varied than any other in the history of Marenkes.

[mariasont]

Early seasons Spencer’s gf joining the team and quickly realizing just how used to Spencer she is bc the rest of the team’s reactions to him are so different from hers

Cinnamon Sticks - S.R

a/n: obsessed with the idea of baby spencie having a gf who just gets him while he's still an awkward, nerdy little genius! thanks for requesting bestie so sorry it took so long i am the worst LOL

masterlist

pairings: early!seasons!spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, secret relationship, relationship being exposed bc these two are just so in love

wc: 1.7k

Garcia burst into the bullpen like some sort of whirlwind that was painted in neon, her scarf fluttering behind her almost like a cape. She juggled a precariously full cup of coffee, while her phone teetered between ear and shoulder as if testing the limits of human dexterity.

"I swear to all that is holy, if my life doesn't slow down in the next five minutes--"

The sentence derailed as she misjudged her pace, the coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup. She stopped abruptly, her arms a flurry of motion, but not quick enough to stop the scalding liquid from spilling over and searing her fingers.

"Oh, fantastic! Just what I needed!" she huffed, waving her hand like it might stop the sting.

She threw herself into the closest chair with a huff, slumping back and fixing the coffee cup with a murderous glare, like this was just another tally in a long line of grievances.

Your eyes darted up from your work, only for a moment, enough to confirm what you already knew. You hadn't been working here long, but it was long enough to recognize the phenomenon that was Garcia: a blur of motion and words, mid-rant before anyone had the chance to catch up. It was like clockwork really.

You risked a glance across the desk at Spencer, who was so absorbed in his notebook it was a wonder he even remembered to breathe. If Garcia's antics registered as white noise to anyone, it was him. But then, almost like he had a radar for being watched, he looked up, catching your gaze.

His eyebrows lifted into a subtle what can you do? expression, and you couldn't help but smile back.

That was the thing about Spencer. He had this uncanny knack for knowing exactly what you were thinking, almost as if he had a cheat sheet for your brain. And maybe he did--like his brain worked three times faster than everyone else's in the room (which, let's face it, it definitely did). But instead of that being intimidating, it was oddly reassuring.

"At this rate, I'm one bad email away from alphabetizing my entire pantry for stress relief."

Spencer's notebook hit the desk, and there it was--the shift. His shoulders drew back, face lighting up--the kind of thing that signaled his mini-lecture was incoming.

"Organizing your pantry is actually a practical stress management technique. By categorizing items, you create a structured environment that reduces decision fatigue. Its why people feel calmer in tidy spaces, it's psychological."

Morgan held up a hand. "Psychological, huh? Sounds like you’re just trying to justify your weird love affair with labels, pretty boy.”

“Don’t forget,” you added absently, flipping a page in your report, “it also saves time when you’re cooking. I think you called it practical efficiency."

The words slipped out without much thought, but as soon as they did, the bullpen stilled. You glanced up, heart sinking as you saw every face turned in your direction.

Morgan’s grin was the first thing you notice--wide and knowing, stretching across his face. He tilted his head, eyes bouncing between you and Spencer like he was putting pieces together in real time.

“Wait a minute,” he said, sitting forward with a gleam in his eye. “Did you just quote him? Like, word for word?”

Your cheeks heated instantly. “What? No. I mean—maybe. I don’t know.”

“Pretty sure you did,” Morgan shot back, smirking. “Man, what else has he been teaching you? You got the periodic table memorized too?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, please. If you’ve been around Spencer long enough, you’re bound to pick up a few things. He’s like a walking encyclopedia.”

“Well,” Spencer said, his head tilting slightly as he spoke, “your cinnamon sticks always end up at the back of your pantry. That’s why I figured you might appreciate the idea of organizing by use frequency. Like I said, practical efficiency.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you knew he’d made a tactical error.

Garcia gasped, her eyes lighting up like she’d just been handed the juiciest piece of gossip of her life. 

“Oh. My. God. Spencer Reid, how exactly do you know what the back of her pantry looks like?”

You froze, rooted to the spot as the realization hit you like a cartoon anvil. This was bad.

Spencer’s expression mirrored yours for half a second—wide-eyed panic—but he quickly scrambled for an answer. 

“It’s, um… a logical assumption,” he stammered, his fingers toying with the pen in his hand, a nervous tell he couldn’t quite suppress. “Spices like cinnamon sticks always seem to migrate to the back of the pantry unless there’s an intentional system in place.”

Morgan let out a long, low whistle, rocking back in his chair with enough force to make it creak. His grin was insufferably smug, the kind that practically begged for something to be thrown at him. 

“Nice save. But I don’t think Garcia’s buying it.”

Garcia tapped her chin, clearly enjoying herself far too much. “Oh, no, no, no. This is too good. I mean, logical assumption my fabulous behind! Cinnamon sticks in the back of her pantry? Really? What’s next? A detailed analysis of how she stacks her cereal boxes?”

You laughed, though it sounded more like a bark than anything natural. “You’re all reading way too much into this. Spencer just knows weirdly specific things about, well, everything. That’s kind of his thing, remember?”

“Mmhmm,” Garcia hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, genius, I’ll let it slide this time. But I’m watching you.”

“Please don’t,” Spencer muttered under his breath, earning a round of laughter from the team.

Garcia spent a solid ten minutes in full interrogation mode after that, her eyes narrowing with each and every pointed question she lobbed your way. Morgan, of course, was no help. He leaned back, grinning like a kid with a front-row seat to the circus, his smirk practically screaming that he knew they were this close to striking a nerve.

Spencer and you had been so careful. You'd been dating long before you joined the BAU, but the moment Hotch had called to offer you the position, you both knew you'd have to keep things under wraps. Dating a coworker was one thing; dating Spencer Reid, a genius with an accidentally too-honest mouth, was an entirely different challenge.

You hadn't expected it to be this hard, though. Keeping the secret wasn't the worst part--it was pretending he wasn't the center of your universe every time you walked into the room. It was keeping your hands to yourself when all you wanted to do was smooth out the messy strands of hair that always fell into his eyes. It was biting your tongue when someone interrupted his long-winded tangents because the truth was, you loved hearing him talk.

The hours stretched on, and the bullpen slowly thinned out. Garcia was the first to leave, blowing a kiss to the room. Morgan left soon after, pausing to flash you one last grin before disappearing. Even Prentiss packed up for the night, muttering something about needed an extra shot of espresso tomorrow morning.

"You handled that well."

You looked up from your report to find Spencer by your desk, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other skimming lightly along the edge of the divider. His expression was surprisingly soft, almost bashful, as though he had been waiting to get you alone.

"Handled that well?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You were the one who almost blew it, Spencer. Cinnamon sticks? Really?"

He smiled, lips twitching upward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Okay, I'll admit that wasn't my most subtle moment. But in my defense, they do end up at the back of most pantries."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair. 

"We're lucky Garcia got distracted. If she'd pushed any harder..." Your voice drifted into a soft sigh. "That could've been bad."

"That was a close one."

The quiet that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt a little more substantial, if that was the word, filled with that soft ache that always bloomed in your chest when he was near. 

Spencer stepped closer, his hand brushing against the edge of your desk. His body angled toward you, like even when you weren’t touching, he couldn’t help but gravitate toward you.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I don’t think she actually suspects anything. But we should probably be more careful.”

"Probably," you replied, drawing out the word in a teasing, sing-song tone. “Unless you’d rather keep showing off how ridiculously well you know me.”

His cheeks flushed a soft pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, that shy, boyish smile—the one that always made you a little breathless—spread across his lips.

"That's going to be hard," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I noticed a lot about you."

The words hit you like they always did--soft enough, but with the force of a thousand butterflies taking flight in your chest. You could feel the flush creeping up to your neck, and you mentally cursed him for how easily he was able to do this to you.

"You're lucky I like you."

His smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way they only came out at specific moments. Like when he successfully performed a card trick for the team or when he stumbled across an original copy of a book at a library sale. 

The same one you'd seen when he talked about his mom on her good days, or when you asked him on a date. 

You leaned forward. "And since I like you, any chance you'd want to kiss me right now?"

"How could I not, with you looking at me like that?"

The angle was clumsy--your chair too low, his frame leaning awkwardly over--but all of that melted away the second his hands found your face. His thumbs brushed soft circles against the place where your cheek met your jaw.

His lips were soft against yours at first, testing, before growing firmer, more sure. The kind of confidence that came with a hundred familiar kisses before. 

Time seemed to slow, or at least for you it did, the rest of the world nonexistent.

The sound of a throat clearing broke the spell, and you jerked back from Spencer, your chair wobbling slightly as you turned toward the sound. You immediately regretted it--your lips felt swollen, your face hot, and there was Prentiss, leaning against the doorframe.

"We were... uh, testing something," you blurted, avidly avoiding eye contact. "You know, like... oxygen exchange! For scientific purposes."

Spencer blinked, then mumbled, "Oxygen exchange? That's the best you got?"

"Shut it," you hissed through gritted teeth, not daring to look at him.

Prentiss arched a brow. "Relax, lovebirds. If this is your idea of scientific research, I'll make sure Garcia doesn't find out. You're welcome."

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[durgewyll]

BG3 Spell Voice Lines Cheat Sheet

Here's a spreadsheet of BG3 spells (levels 1-6) and their vocal components/voice lines.

This is a work in progress, combining info from various sources. Some spells don't have voice lines, some have voice lines but aren't listed in the sources (will have to verify in-game), and some have voice lines but I couldn't understand what was being said, lol.

For any feedback/corrections, feel free to send me a message! I would also appreciate help in figuring out some of the voice lines <3

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

I want to smell like you.

Pairing: Father in law!Joel Miller x f!reader Words count: 949, all filthy again because why not. Rating: +18, MDNI, NSFW Summary: Joel hears you during the night and can’t help himself Tags/warnings: Joel POV, implied but unspecified age gap, cheating, pathetic yearning old man Joel (lol, he’s desperate for you, bb), Joel thoughts marked in italics, male masturbation, Joel has a son in this one, swearing, mention of alcohol consumption, as usual reader has barely no description, she doesn’t blush, she has hair but it’s not described, she has female genitalia. A/N: sequel for Not the real deal, I think it can be read as a standalone but if you haven’t read the first one yet, it’s only 382 more filthy words 😇 I'm slowly trying to return functioning like a normal human, I’m still hanging in there, I’m happy that I was able to write at least this one. No beta, no proofreading, English is not my first language and I’m sorry for any mistake. Thanks to @joelmillerisapunk for her constant support, I don’t know where I would be without you, bb. Love you so much ♥️ Hope you’ll like it and thanks for giving so much love to the first one, I never had that amount of notes before and I’m truly grateful and overwhelmed ♥️

Masterlist | Joel Masterlist

These walls are so thin.

They don't make houses like they used to.

Joel turns over on the lumpy mattress.

Frustrated, deprived of sleep, he lies on his back with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

“It'll be over, it'll be over soon.” He groans.

Ten minutes have passed, they seemed like an eternity.

You are on the other side of the wall and he can hear you clearly.

You have no business being so loud, fucking hell.

He could swear he can pick out every single sound.

The sucking, the slapping, the sliding, the clinging.

The wood of the headboard, your sweet voice broken by sobs.

He could describe every single thing that is happening in that room without seeing it.

He closes his eyes and you’re before him.

Naked, disheveled, your delicious breasts bouncing in the air, your soft thighs wide open, your expression rapt, your mouth agape showing a row of delicate white teeth that sparkle in the dark.

Your eyebrows are raised, your forehead is beaded with sweat, your tongue darts between your lips, your eyes are clouded with desire.

It's too much to bear.

And when you start making that unmistakable sound that is yours and only yours when you’re totally lost in your pleasure, when he feels your breathing quicken and become heavy, he knows he won't be able to resist.

His hands get rid of his boxers mechanically, throwing them on the floor.

He shouldn’t do that but he can’t stop, he’s not in control of his own movements anymore.

Not when your honeyed voice fills his ears with moans and little whimpers and his cock is impossibly hard.

Not when he should be the one fucking you right now instead of being relegated to the guest room.

At least he took after me in terms of stamina.

Fuck.

This is her pussy.

Her juicy little pussy slapping against his cock, swallowing him whole.

He spits on his palm and grab his shaft, fisting it desperately into his hand, muttering angrily, wrapped in the sheets, teeth gritted, blood rushing to his brain, adrenaline blurring his vision, big fat cock covered in his precum throbbing between his fingers as he dream to be buried deep inside of you, your cream dripping all over him.

He tried to push that feeling away, he tried really hard for a very long time.

That heat expanding in his chest whenever he sees you with him has a name that he desperately tries to not address: Jealousy.

It’s so damn stupid, he himself led you to the altar and handed you over to him.

He should have more consideration for his son. But he can't stop thinking that you should be his and his alone.

He feels pathetic, beyond redemption, as he strokes his cock like a horny teenager.

Every molecule of you is like a drug, a siren song that wrecks his reason.

Cum is spilling on his hand, staining the sheets, dripping on his legs, he’s making a fool of himself, wishing he could paint your tits, wishing he could fingerfuck his sticky mess into your warm cunt, wishing you could be on his side of the wall on your knees, tongue out waiting for every drop.

He covers his mouth with his hand trying to stifle your name that rises to his lips. He bites into his own flesh, he moans and groans and curses himself.

His orgasm is strong but not nearly as devastating as if you were there.

Nothing compares.

The noise has stopped.

He breathes a sigh of relief, reaching for a tissue on the nightstand. The box is empty.

He reluctantly gets up and slips silently out the door.

His now soft cock dangles between his legs, the cold air contrasting with the heat of his sweaty chest makes him shiver as he tries to reach the bathroom.

As he places his hand on the handle he hears the door of your room open.

Fuck.

He hasn’t even put his boxers back on, his mind really isn’t reasoning anymore.

What will I do if it’s him?

He is in his son's house.

He insisted he spend the night there because he had one glass too many at dinner.

"It's not safe for you to drive like that, stay," he had told him.

And now he’s here, naked in the hallway.

Fuck.

It’s you, thank goodness.

A vision in lacy lingerie.

He feels his heart beating in his throat.

“Hey.” you whisper, moving closer to him and hugging him from behind. You bury your face between his shoulder blades, your tits pressed against his broad back, leaving small kisses on his skin, licking away a streak of his sweat.

“Hey.” he replies coldly, his voice hoarse.

“I heard you,” he grumbles softly.

“I know,” you purr, “I wanted you to hear me.”

You’re cruel when you want to be, why do this to me?

“You smell like him.” He groans.

“Yeah, but I’ve been thinking about you all the damn time.”

Joel feels a surge of pride fill his body, his cock reacting to your words.

“Is he sleeping?”

“Yes,” you murmur against his skin and then add, “Joel, I can’t wait any longer.”

“What do you want, baby?” he smirks in the dark hallway, one hand on the bathroom doorknob, the other gripping the wrist of your arm around his waist.

“I want to smell like you.”

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archive tag: @pedrostories

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