#i don’t think i can make it until my body adjusts to this labor lol

[starcunin]

i hope to get some writing done sunday/monday when i’m off. i’m just so exhausted from work, i just wanna eat, shower and go to sleep lol.

[jungwonenthusiast]

Request: okay so can i request prompt number 10 , the reader is female and it's her (a switch taking control this time) saying that to Hee. Also normally they play it softly but since it's been a while, she's really missed him and she's gone a biiiiiit into the dom-ish zone

A/N: Heeseung ends up domming at the end lol i hope you don't mind. sorry if there's any typos lmao

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (m recieving), slight choking kink

Word count: 1.8 k

“Hold on sweetheart I’m getting in the Uber.” you say to Heeseung over the phone and push your suitcase to the other backseat.

“How long until you get here?” he asks, you can tell he’s getting anxious and you can’t blame him.

“Maybe thirty minutes or so.” you say and he groans.

“That’s too long.” he complains and you chuckle.

“It’ll go by quickly.” you assure him. “What are you doing right now?”

“Sulking around waiting for you.” he sighs.

You had been on a trip visiting your family for three weeks and Heeseung had missed you so much that it hurt.

“What will you do when I’m gone for months? That might happen one day.” you ask,

“I’ll deteriorate and die.” he deadpans and you laugh.

You keep talking on the phone right until you’re at his dorm door.

The door flies open. “Y/N!” he pulls you into a bear hug. “How could you leave me like that.”

You laugh, patting his back. “It was important.”

“It was the ultimate betrayal.” he says and you chuckle.

The rest of the boys flood to the door to greet you.

“Y/N! You’re back.” Jake daps you up.

“Noona!” Sunoo gives you a hug.

“Hey noona,” Jungwon says and you ruffle his hair.

“Thank God,” Jay sighs. “Heeseung hyung wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“For real,” Sunghoon says.

After some light chatter they all return to their rooms.

You hold Heeseung’s face in your hands. He isn’t wearing any makeup and he looks clean and fresh. You peck him on the lips. “I missed your face.”

He chuckles and grabs your thighs, picking you up so that your legs are wrapped around his waist. “Let's go cuddle.”

“I can walk to your room myself.” you tell him.

He smiles. “Yeah, but this is more fun isn’t it?”

He lays you down on his bed and falls on top of you.

“I can’t breathe.” you squeak out.

He apologizes and pulls you on top of him, luring you in for a kiss. Just kissing him almost makes you moan. You didn’t realize how much you missed his touch.

You rake your hands through his hair and tug when the kiss gets deeper. He whimpers into your mouth and you smile. You can already feel his hard on. So sensitive, you think to yourself.

“How much did you miss me?” you ask him, kissing his cheek.

“A lot,” he exhales. “Really?” you say and he nods. “Show me then.”

He smiles then tips your head back, going straight for your neck. You breathe out as his tongue explores your skin, sucking and nibbling every now and then.

His hands slide up your top, grabbing at your soft skin. “Get this off.” he says and tugs it over your head.

He kisses your collarbone and touches you like your skin is made of flower petals.

You grab his jaw and kiss him again. Maybe it’s because you’ve been apart for a bit but tonight you want to take control. The thought of him whining and begging for you makes your mind hazy.

You pull his hoodie head and let your bare skin press against his. He pushes your hips down onto his and you smirk.

“Ah ah-” you tsk him. “Don’t get handsy like that.”

“I’m sorry,” he says sheepishly and it’s so cute and hot you could explode.

He keeps his arms on your waist while you grind on his as light or hard as you please.

He moans into your neck as you roll your hips over his. You kiss him while hastily unbuttoning his jeans and slipping your hand into them. You’re throbbing at this point, wanting him inside of you so bad.

“Already so worked up,” you say while palming him through his underwear. “So naughty.”

His breathing is getting labored as you kiss down his neck.

“Please,” he breathes out.

“Please what?” you ask.

“You know what.” he says with pink cheeks.

You give him a small smile. “I really don’t sweetheart, you’re gonna have to use your words.”

He swallows his pride with a big gulp. It’s so fun seeing him get flustered like this. “Use your mouth? Please?”

You kiss him. “Good boy.”

You pull his hoodie off as you tug his jeans down.

You hold him firmly and like one strip up for the base, you feel his body tense under you. You let spit fall from your lips and onto his tip.

“So fucking hot,” he whispers and you smirk.

You dip your head down and take as much of him as you can. He groans and pets your hair. You begin bobbing your head up and down and drink up all of his whimpers and moans. Knowing how much control you had over him had you basically dripping.

His hand flies to cover his mouth when he hits the back of your throat and right away you pull off of him.

“Quit that, I want them to hear you.” you give him a devilish look before sucking him off.

“Fuck,” he says softly. His head falls back, exposing his neck. Too bad I’m too far to choke him, you think.

He grabs onto your, pushing your head down in a steady rhythm. Usually you’d scold him but you felt like he deserved it tonight.

It doesn’t take long for his breathing to get heavier and his moans to get more desperate.

“Fuck I’m close-” he starts but you pull off him.

He looks at you dumbfounded.

“What were about to cum?” you tease him.

“Yes,” he says “please keep going, I’ve been good haven’t I?”

“Admittedly, you have been good,” you say, kissing his neck. “But if you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna cum in me.” you tug your pants off and throw them on the floor.

You slip your fingers into your underwear and rub yourself right in front of him.

“Fuck I’m so wet,” You can’t remember when you got bold and neither can he. He’s staring at you in astonishment but also lust. “Look what you did to me baby.” you whine and he grabs at you. You swat him away.

“What is it?” you ask him.

“Stop torturing me, you know I need it.” he pleads and you smile.

“Can a girl not have her fun?” you spread your legs, giving him a clean view of you rubbing yourself in your underwear.

“Fuck,” he exhales, exhasberated.

You slip your fingers in your mouth and moan. “So sweet.”

He looks at you with his big doe eyes. “Please let me taste.”

You smile at him. “Come here then.” you say and he eagerly moves over to you.

You pull him in for a kiss as you push two fingers into yourself. You moan into his mouth.

“Please?” he asks you softly. He sounds so pretty, how could you deny him.

You slide your slick covered fingers into his mouth, giving him a taste.

He kisses you. “Please fuck me.” he pleads. “I need you.”

You straddle him and pull your underwear to the side, rubbing his tip up and down your slit. He hisses and holds your waist tight.

You both moan when you finally slide down his length.

“You feel so good,” you exhale. It feels like it’s been months since you were stretched out like this.

His head drops into your neck as you slowly grind your hips on him. “Fuck,” he whispers.

“Doesn’t this feel good? My tight pussy wrapped around you?” you say to him and he groans.

“Yeah,” he says breathily. “Fuck don’t stop.”

You tug his hair, forcing him to look at you. “How much did you think about me while I was gone?”

“So much,” he says. “All the time.”

“What’d you think about.” your hand goes from his hair to his throat.

“Touching you, kissing you-” he’s interrupted by his own moaning. “Making you feel good.”

“That’s right,” you coo. “That’s all you’re good for; my pleasure.”

“Yeah,” he says and kisses your chest. “I just wanna be good for you.”

You reach down to rub your clit and begin to bounce a little faster. The pressure on your clit and his cock brushing against your g-spot make your eyes roll back. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” he asks you, a little flirtatiously. You nod before you have time to adjust to it, he grips your hips and starts to pound up into you.

You cry out and wrap your arms around him. God how does he feel so good?

He holds onto your waist and flips you onto your back before snapping his hips into yours. Your eyes roll back for the hundredth time of the night.

Your fingers dip down to rub your juices on your clit. You’re so wet that you can hear yourself gush every time his cock slides into you.

He kisses your neck. “You’re so fucking tight. I missed this cunt so much.”

“Really?” you ask and he nods. “Make me cum then.”

He smirks and spreads your legs out before grinding into you as hard as he can. Your weakness.

“Fuck yes,” you cry out.

He grabs onto the headboard. “Look at you, spread out for me like a good girl.”

You whimper, immediately being pushed into sub space.

“How bad do you want it?” he asks.

“Really really bad.” you look at him with wide eyes.

He kisses you softly. “Are you sure?”

“Yes yes please make me cum Heeseung,” you look him in the eyes. “Please?”

You were so sensitive that every thrust nearly sent you over the edge.

“Look who’s begging for it now.” he smirks and reaches down to circle your clit.

Your thighs begin to tremble as your nails dig into his back.

“F-fuck,” you stutter as you start to reach your high.

“Is my baby close?” he whispers and you nod vigorously. “Go on then, you’ll be good won’t you?”

You hold onto him for dear life as you cry out, nearly blacking out for a moment or two from the pleasure.

“That’s it,” he says lowly. “What a good slut.”

Your pussy pulsing around him makes his thrusts slower and deeper, reaching places that you’ve never felt before. He groans into your neck and you feel his cum fill your tight cunt up.

He kisses you slowly as he pulls out, letting his cum drip out of you.

“I really thought I was gonna dom today.” you say and he chuckles. “Maybe you’re just not built for it.” he jokes.

You giggle and punch him in the arm.

[sergeant-bonky]

Glory Hole(s)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After taking Sam's advice, Bucky goes searching for a gloryhole and he finds one between your legs.

Warnings: NSFW; smut, unprotected sex, implied female receiving oral, language, friends to lovers. 

Word Count: 1,215 (Get ready for 1k fics from this day on!) lol

Authors Notes: TGIF!!!! Happy Weekend Friends! :)

Even if Bucky and Sam's relationship seemed a little hit and miss, Sam was always there to offer Bucky some good advice when he needed.

The soldier had been waking up in really bad moods for the past couple weeks. It didn't help when Sam was insistent on watching movies with lots of sex scenes.

"You just need to get laid." Sam told him one morning over a coffee. Watching Bucky's eyebrows deepen in frustration over the lack of sex he was having.

Bucky agreed with Sam. Knowing a long night between someone's legs was going to make him feel so much better and happier. Sam went on to tell him about finding glory holes, "the wetter the better." He said and gave advice on fingering.

It was at that point you had walked in on their conversation, ready to pour yourself some coffee. Peeking over your shoulder to see Bucky mimicking the finger movements that Sam was showing him. You fought back a grin, you felt bad for the guy, you really did. Even if he was an avenger, people feared him and it meant strangers wouldn't get close enough to him to let him take them home.

You decided to take matters into your own hands, and came up with a plan to help him out. Thanks to Sam of course.

Later that night, Bucky had knocked on your door to ask if he could borrow your phone charger since Sam had stolen his, again. You invited him into your room and bent over, your nightshirt raising up and exposing your bare pussy to him. His breath hitched but he couldn't take his eyes off your glistening goodness. You were wet, he could tell that much.

Grabbing the charger from the outlet, you stood up straight and adjusted your shirt.

"Here you go!" You cheered, holding your hand out for him to take. You noticed his breathing was labored, his jaw clenched and when your eyes roamed down his body, he had a large tent in his jeans.

Got him. You applauded yourself.

"Buck–oomph!" The wind felt like it had been knocked out of you when he shoved you down onto the bed. With a teasing smirk, you lifted your shirt up, exposing yourself fully to him. Bucky licked his lips, his eyes flicking from your wetness to your face.

"Y/N, I don't–"

"Buck it's okay. We don't have to do anything if you don't want to. I just wanted to help you out, make you feel better and make you feel good." Your smile reassured him. You started to pull down your nightshirt but his hand caught your wrist and he shook his head.

"What will happen to our friendship? I don't want to lose you as a friend, doll." He was conflicted, was the pleasure really worth ruining a friendship over?

"Nothing will happen to us Buck. I'll still be your friend, friends can help each other out in more ways than one, you know." That was all he wanted to hear. He pounced on you like an animal, kissing you fiercely while his hand slipped under your shirt to tear the material off. The roughness from his jeans grinded against your clit and you moaned into his mouth.

"Oh my god, it's been to long." You whimpered, grinding your hips and leaving a wet spot behind.

"Jesus." He moaned. The friction from your grinding and the feeling of your dampness seeping through his jeans was driving him fucking insane.

Bucky sat back. Unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans and shoving them down his legs with his boxers. His member sprung free, curved against his abdomen and you knew right off the bat that he's going to make you cum so much. His henley is the next thing to go and he's quickly on top of you again, kissing, sucking and nipping on your chest, neck and jawline.

He moves his cock between your folds, gathering some free lube before teasing your entrance with just his tip. Pushing it in and back out again.

"Bucky please." You whine. Your hands holding onto the pillow.

Bucky hooks your legs over his arms and gently pushing in. He pushes past the resistance of your walls and you groan out in pain from the stretch. He keeps going until he's flushed against your clit.

"Move." You instruct. Gasping when he pulls almost all the way out, only to slam back into you. His curved tip grinding that spot that makes your toes curl.

"Holy fuck!" You moan, throwing your head back. Bucky leans forward to kiss your throat, his pubic bone grinding against your clit as well your G-spot. It makes you scream out and you beg him to go faster.

Bucky doesn't hold back. His thrusts are desperate and they are so hard that he sends the entire bedframe into the wall. Black spots take over your vision. Every single sweet spot is being stimulated all at once.

"You close baby?" He rasps. Sweat glistening on his forehead and shining through his beard.

"Yes!" You moan, squeezing your eyes shut.

"I can feel you. Fuck, I feel all of you." He growls, rocking against you harder. You scream his name as he makes you come undone. Your warmth coating his entire length and slick following his trail. Your pulsing walls helps him reach his high. Hips stilling inside of you and emptying himself. The vein on the underside of his member pulses against your wall and you both moan breathlessly.

Bucky collapses next to you, his hands on his chest trying to steady his breathing. You chuckle, cuddling up next to him. You're tingling from the inside out.

Your head rises and fall with his chest. His arm over your shoulder, drawing up some random shapes. He kisses your head and you melt into his touch.

"Thank you." He says. "That was fucking amazing."

"It was amazing for me too. You know, if you wanted it to, this could be a regular thing. You and I helping each other out." Your fingers run through his beard, tucking loose strands of hair behind his ear.

"I'd love that but I don't want to have with you as a friend." You looked away when he said that. Not sure what to think.

"Oh." Bucky realizes how it sounded and quickly makes it right.

"I don't mean it like that! I'd just love to do it if we were in a relationship." Now it's his turn to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I didn't know you liked me." You blushed. Your breasts pushed against his chest when he pulls you closer.

"For a long, long time. I'm glad this happened with you and not some random from a bar." He smiled and you leaned over to kiss him.

The kiss started off sweet and gentle. Then as soon as his tongue slipped passed your lips it turned into a heavy make out session. Your hand traveled south and grasped his now hard member and gasped when he moved you into position to sit on his face.

"Your hole is the only glory hole I want." He groans, your juices already over his beard. Before you could reply, his tongue sweeps through your folds.

[fenristheorem]

Lance Romantic Headcanons

(Technically part 2)

I’ve had a few of general / romantic headcanons running through my mind for a while now regarding Lance, so as part of my weeks away I decided I wanted to write about this. This isn’t to be confused with my two request writings (part 1 and 2) asking for headcanons of Lance in Guardienne in a relationship, although, the subject is very closely related so it’s probably a bit of a sister series lol.

~ Under the cut ~

I'm going to jump right into this: I think Lance has a dirty secret (many secrets actually, but I’m only sharing this one for now 😉). I theorize he secretly likes sensual dancing; soft yet intimate or intense music playing, and either watching his partner dance around or dancing with her. Being able to grasp her hips gently and sway with her, nuzzling his face into her neck, and pressing her body against his could definitely bewitch him into falling in love with is partner all over again. For this reason, he'd also like when his partner gives him lap dances - if that's something she's interested in doing - especially if she’s being subtly dominant about it. However, this isn't anything that's necessary, more like something that he enjoys when offered due to the intimacy of it. He'd never admit his interest in this, though - except maybe to his partner - and he'd certainly never do any of this in public.

He’s probably into massages - both giving and receiving - as this includes a lot of physical touch, too. Being a warrior and the Chief of Obsidian, Lance probably has a lot of stress on himself and undoubtedly works himself until he bleeds, which means he’s probably tense all the time. Provided his partner can get him to sit or lay down for long enough to give him a good back or shoulder massage, he’ll eventually melt into it until it’s hard to get him back up and moving. Massages can literally make this guy melt. He’ll enjoy giving his partner massages for reasons different than why he enjoys receiving them, though. Being able to lay his partner down and use his strength to sooth her ignites something deep within him, a sort of feral protective instinct, possibly because the act of massaging someone is similar in motion to kneading (like a cat) and providing comfort to your partner is usually pretty nice anyways. This can actually influence him into turning the simplest of massages into a long night of gentle touches where his partner doesn’t need to worry about doing anything except laying beneath him and letting him do all the work. Frankly, saying that he likes massages is an understatement, he probably loves them due to the simplistic intimacy of it.

Lance is definitely into aggressive cuddling as well. He likely has aggressive moments through out the year, almost like how a woman's temperament may change based on her menstrual cycle (yes, I did just say that lol), and it can make him crave his partner's touch more or less in certain moments. Based on his internal time clock, he'll have days where he'll come back to their shared room at night, strip off his armor until he's wearing only his pants, grab his partner - gently - and throw her - gently - onto the bed, and cuddle with her. He'll wrap his arms tightly around her, may possibly lay on top of her - as long as he's sure she's not suffocating under his weight - and he'll refuse to let her up for anything. She can argue him all she wants; he'll either argue back or shut her up with a kiss, which could probably lead off to another type of aggressive cuddling 😉. 

He can also be somewhat aggressive during these moments... but not exactly in a distasteful way.

“Hey Lance, can I get up?”

A grunt.

...

“Please?”

Another grunt, and a shifting of his grip to hold her tighter.

“Oh come on! I need to see Karenn about something!”

“You’ve seen her enough this week.”

She can start to struggle against his arms and chest, but he’ll pull her into a death grip and wrap his legs around hers so it’s harder to move.

A frustrated sigh as she relaxes.

...

More struggling. He’ll growl and lightly nip her neck or shoulder, following up with a few gentle kisses if he’s feeling kind. This gets her to stop.

“I promise I’ll come back and then we can continue!”

He’ll raise his head and look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Is it urgent?”

“...Yes?...”

“No.”

“Why!?”

“That ‘yes’ had ‘no’ written all over it.”

His hand will press her head against his chest again as Lance nuzzles into her hair.

“Is there any way, in any possible world, that I could possibly leave for just a few seconds to tell her something?”

“No.”

Better luck next time, maybe. Once Lance is set on something, it’ll take the sky falling to change his mind... and even then his stubbornness may still prevail.

While we’re on the topic of close contact with Lance; he probably has a very specific scent to him that isn’t even remotely similar to any one else in the guard.

His profession requires heavy manual labor, and although he probably isn’t fighting most of the time - maybe not even training depending on the day - he still has to lug around heavy armor and weaponry, and he probably has a somewhat routine schedule of walking around the guard to check in on how his sentries are doing (was it ever confirmed that there are watchmen stationed on the walls of the guard? Anyways, I headcanon that if it wasn’t already confirmed). Lance probably does a lot of moving around each day; be it training, fighting, working out a bit to keep in shape, embarking on missions, or just patrolling the guard to assure everything is alright. This means he probably does sweat a bit, and of course that hightlights anyone’s natural scent. It’s hard to say exactly what his natural scent may be like, but I image it’s a bit musky with a hint of a lighter chill to it.

Of course, he probably deals with the forge a lot, too, so the scent of the oil, leather, and smoldering steel he works with likely rubs off on him quite a bit. At nearly any time of the day - but especially later in the day - his partner is likely to find him smelling like the heavy musk of leather and heat, mixed with his own faint musk, and a tinge of nipping cold from the soap he showers with.

I’ve noticed that people rarely ever mention Lance’s neck injury... but I think his injury may actually have some impact in his relationship. There’s very little detail known on his injury, but regardless, it’s still a major weak point for him and was probably life-threatening at some point, so I don’t think he takes people being around this injury - or his neck in general - very lightly.

He’s likely very sensitive about his neck, even with his romantic partner. It’s less of a trust thing and more of an instinctual, self-preservation thing. There was a point in time where his life was threatened because someone was inflicting an injury to his neck, and it is known that it’s a weak point for Lance, so it would make sense that he would be very defensive about his neck.

It would take a while for him to open up to his partner about the details, and he may lean away from any touch on his neck for a long time until he learns how to feel comfortable with it, so in that time his partner would need to be understanding and accepting. She can hug him, kiss him, lean against him, anything... but avoid touching his neck.

Lance would likely be startled if she did this without warning, possibly to the point of clearly jumping or immediately backing away from shock. As it is, other’s don’t really touch him in a kind manner, so to have someone - even if it is his partner - touch him without warning, gently, on his neck, will usually come as a surprise. However, this is really only in the beginning of their relationship, and he’ll calm down in time the more he adjusts to physical touch around that area.

In the mean time, his partner would need to get used to his skittishness, but if it’s really a problem for his partner and he agrees, they can start to rehabilitate him to physical touch around his neck, starting by getting him used to touch around his neck and his partner eventually moving her hands closer and closer to his neck until he’s calm enough to let her touch his neck. It would be a slow process, but - provided he trusts her and feels safe when they try it - he’ll slowly relax in time.

This would be unlikely to cause major issues in their relationship unless his partner obviously doesn’t seem to care about his uncomfortable feelings, so as long as she gives him the time he needs to adapt and trust, he’ll calm down. In time he’ll fully enjoy her touch on his neck.

This is relatively short in comparison to the rants I usually go on but I’m glad to have finally written these out. Technically, I had more headcanons I could have added to this, but since they’re a bit more specifically about Lance’s dragon genetics I decided to split those off onto their own post. Fortunately I think these are fine as they are!

Thanks for reading!

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

[oinkawa-bb]

first time dads!haikyuu pt. 1

note: here’s part one? i wrote this headcanon for daichi, kuroo, and oikawa ^-^ um i kinda went off i am having a major thing for domesticity rn i'm sorry but let me know if you’d like a second part! or leave me a request for anything you’d like to read here! my reqs are open, and if you have any questions about what i write, check it out here

mentions/topics: pregnancy, domesticity, timeskip, female reader insert

part two (iwaizumi, suna, the miya twins)

part three (tsukki, akaashi, yams, kenma)

☀︎—daichi sawamura 

one word: prepared

from the day you surprised him with the pregnancy test, he’s been preparing for this maybe he started even before that but he’s just eager ok

expect daichi to utilize any and all resources he can get his hands on

parenting books and birthing classes and pestering colleagues and relatives for advice

he’s super thorough and wants to cater to your every need during pregnancy 

always a little on edge and nervous but won’t show it because he wants you to be able to fully rely on him emotionally and physically i love this man

his favorite part (after bringing home his baby ofc) was setting up the nursery

he literally stared at the crib and closet full of smol onesies for an hour with major uwu eyes because the man is just so excited <33

and when the day comes,

daichi is calmly but quickly ushering you to the car while he single handedly carries the bulky hospital bag (which he definitely helped you overpack months in advance)

he’s cool and collected and clear minded because the man has read too many books and watched too many videos on how labor progresses

after guiding you through a rough and long labor with deep breathing techniques

he finally catches the first sight of his baby,,

and he’s super teary eyed and overwhelmed with all the emotions he tried to suppress while preparing for his baby’s arrival

but his dad instincts majorly kick in and he’s counting the baby’s fingers and toes and asking the doctor questions and keeping an eye on the nurses who hold his whole world in their hands

during skin-to-skin, daichi can’t stop touching the baby’s little fingers and toes and cooing softly (incredibly soft daichi is a rare sight)

but still, the sight of daichi holding his baby against his chest is like none other - it looks like he was waiting his whole life for this moment because he was uwuwuwu

after returning home,

daichi is super super extra tender with you

he knows (from research and now experience) the emotional and physical toll it takes on your body, 

paternity leave is an unspoken necessity for daichi 

changing diapers? he’s on it. burping the baby? he’s on it. checking on the baby in the dead of night? he’s on it.

daichi wants to do whatever helps you recover the fastest

and he’s just so so soft and sweet to you and it’s just UGHHHH

dad daichi is best daichi

☀︎—tetsuro kuroo

for a nerd, the poor boy is kinda slow and he doesn’t realize that you’ve been leaving him hints for about a week now

when he said kenma was the brain, he meant it

it’s only when you leave your positive pregnancy test blatantly next to the bathroom sink one night 

he finds it and he’s jumping and pumping his fists in the air like an idiot

it’s the cutest moment when he comes sprinting out of the bathroom with his hands flailing in the air and his face plastered with the biggest smile

but he lets his excitement die down as he pulls you into a soft hug and kisses the top of your head 

he’ll murmur softly with his chin resting on your head,,

“how long have you known?”

“tetsu, i’ve known for more than a week, and i’ve been trying to tell you for more than a week too...” PFFFFT

but now that he knows, he can’t be separated from your side

like, if you thought he was affectionate before, soon-to-be dad kuroo is triple that

he can’t stand to see you in discomfort, and he feels helpless seeing you struggle with morning sickness among other symptoms

so he does his absolute best to help quell your discomfort with his affection

he’ll massage your sore back and your swollen feet and try to adjust to any cuddling position that helps you sleep better

he’s also trying your cravings with you and he’s overly eager to go clothing shopping for the baby

kuroo wants to make the experience good for you, so he picks up cooking and cleaning duty as often as he can 

kuroo in an apron is now a normal sight to see

and when your due date arrives,

it’s the middle of the night when your water breaks,

and kuroo leaps out of bed when he hears you whimper and tug on his shirt

he knows how anxious you are, and he channels as much calm energy as he can to help you relax

he’s big on positive affirmations, from the drive to the hospital to the labor process

“baby, you’re doing so good, okay?”

“you can do it, i know you can.”

BIG uwu

but it really hurts him to see you in pain, and he’s trying to do anything and everything when you experience contractions

but after all of the contractions and pain and anxiety, he finally gets to see the baby rest on your chest

silent tears of joy fall from his eyes, and he’s leaning over the both of you, planting gentle kisses on your hair

when he’s reaching out to touch his baby’s smol hands,

the baby’s whole hand wraps around his pointer finger and he’s so smitten

dad kuroo nearly passes out

at home, he’s super encouraging to you, and he’s always reassuring and praising you for working tirelessly

he didn’t know he could experience more love in his life than he already has

but now he knows he can with his new little family<3333

☀︎—tōru oikawa

he’s literally so overjoyed and excited

like he picked you up and spun you around and peppered you with kisses after you first shared the news

after the first trimester passes, oikawa’s the type to tell everyone (who will listen) that he’s going to be a dad

like,, he’s picking you up weird craving foods or something and the cashier couldn’t care less but he’s like

“yeah, it’s for my baby momma” <3333 LMAO i’m just kidding he doesn’t say this... exactly

he’s also obsessed with your baby bump

like obsessed

he always absentmindedly rests his hand beneath your bump and caresses it tenderly

majorly freaks out when he feels a kick

kisses your bump almost more than you (i said almost because if you pout at him after, he’ll kiss your lips twice more ahhh)

i bet he definitely tried to plan some corny halloween costume involving your bump

it’s not all easygoing sometimes though,,

oikawa lays awake sometimes at night and he’s super anxious and insecure about being a dad

but one glance at your peaceful sleeping face

and he feels so reassured and lucky to have you as a partner

the day your water breaks, oikawa literally gets a superhuman adrenaline rush lol

like he’s yeeting things into the car on top of your already well-packed hospital bag because he just wants to be sure everything goes smoothly

“tōru we don’t need the yoga ball-”

“WE’RE BRINGING IT”

he’s definitely a little more nervous and frazzled than you are and he’s not the best at hiding it

but you think it’s funny and cute to see him like this

and after hours of labor,

it honestly looks more like oikawa gave birth LMAO

his eyes are kinda wild and his hair is so disheveled and his clothes are crinkled from trying to cuddle and comfort you in the hospital bed

but he’s overwhelmed with a range of emotions

he’s definitely doing his ugly cry until he gets the chance to hold his baby

his heart stops for a moment and he swears that time stops too

the love in oikawa’s eyes is undeniable, and he promises right then and there that he’d do anything for this little bundle of joy

after bringing the baby home,

oikawa’s glued to the baby monitor if he’s not physically with his baby

but when he’s settled into bed with you after the baby’s asleep, you can hear him mumble incoherently about how happy he is

and it’s true

his eyes literally shine with joy now that he has two loves of his life

[txemrn]

Faded

Book/Pairing: The Royal Romance; Leo x Madeleine

Warning: angst (some dark discussion that would give away the plot); smut 🍋 (awkward, NOT sexy); language

Word Count: 3008 (+/-)

Song Inspiration: Faded by Alan Walker ft. Iselin Solheim (lyrics quoted in the text)

A/N: This is a Royal Roulette, technically, but then again, RR was created specifically for Wacky Drabbles, and I just couldn't get the word count down! Oops! Anyway, this idea came to me when I heard this song, and this story needed to be told. Some of it is canon; some of it is creative canon; some of it, well, we'll call it creativity. lol Any and all of these ideas came from my head, but I acknowledge that others have probably written similar stories (purely coincidental).

Huge special thanks to some of my sweet writing friends: @ao719, @charlotteg234, and @kat-tia801. This took a group effort, and I love you ladies so very much for pre-reading and making this story better. And as always, these characters belong to our friends at Pixelberry!

***

He was a rushing wind; my billowing sails drift me into the unknown, but I don’t care. He’s an incinerating inferno: every tradition I was taught was set ablaze by his touch. My caged heart was unlocked by him; he set the monsters running wild inside of me. In my world of propriety and decorum, he taught me to live; more importantly, he dared me to love.

He broke free: from the customs, our culture, the captivity of our world. He broke free.

Without me. And the mess is all mine to clean up, left with only a picture of our passion--a photo of the love we once shared together. But even that is fading, and will be lost.

I’m alone with my thoughts this morning on my walk. The bite of salt in the coastal breeze tickles my nose, inviting my platinum strands into a carefree dance amongst the sunrise. Adjusting my oversized tortoise-shell sunglasses, my bare toes leave the comfort of the white sand beach only to discover the sting of the barnacle laden steps to the stone jetty. But, the shallow waters never met what I needed. My soul craves to commune with the waves from the deep.

I’m lost; there isn’t enough time in the world to think this through, and yet somehow a decision has to be made. God, where are you now? Was it all in my fantasy? Were you imaginary?

Many described our relationship as ‘destiny’--no, not exactly the romance you read about in foolish fairy tales or hear about in silly love songs. Our families ran in the same spheres of wealth and power. Politics. We are royalty. Since we were close in age, we would spend countless hours together throughout our childhood and teenage years. Being the oldest son to the king, he is--well, he was--the crowned prince of Cordonia; an agreement to our nuptials started well-before my formal training specifically for his social season.

But, something was different about Leo and me. We grew quite fond of each other, a friendship that developed into sharing secret kisses in darkened corners. Was this normal for friendships? Or did we have something deeper? Was this love?

As long as I can remember, I was taught my body was not my own; I was born with a greater purpose, and in that purpose, I would bring honor to my family and my name. I would earn my place in history: a woman who gave of herself everything she could for the sake of a country. Even love.

My reputation is to be held in the highest regard. My efforts in style and wardrobe would be subject to conversation and scrutiny. My eloquence and table etiquette could determine whether or not I’d be fit to be a queen. Every eye movement, every smile, every response could bring honor or dishonor to my family. No one cared about me as long as I presented a pristine package to court, a sacrificial lamb for king and country.

But, when the moment came for me to be chosen as his bride, I felt the swelling of joy inside my chest, bursting like strobes of light for everyone to witness. Suddenly the ideas of ‘the one’ and ‘happily ever after’ that I read about in the great classics teased my senses; I wanted to cry, to scream, to laugh. My body had a sudden thirst, a yearning for him that I didn’t understand.

In my innocence, this could only be one thing.

“Countess Madeleine,” he knowingly grins, “will you do me this honor?”

Swallowing thickly, her jade eyes flutter open at the sound of her name. In a handsomely fit tux, adorning his family colors in full regalia, her future husband, the future king of Cordonia, takes a knee to present the stunning canary solitaire. The dread melts away as the butterflies overcome her nerves.

Keeping with propriety, she nods her head while curtly dabbing away tears. But, something is distracting her: she is to be relishing in her accomplishment of winning the honor, for winning all of the glory, for winning the crown. She is to be the next queen of Cordonia.

But she is overwhelmed by all thoughts of him, her husband-to-be, the father to their future children. Suddenly the life she had been training for didn’t matter; she was betrothed and in love.

Smoothing out the tightness of my heathered linen pants, I take a moment to stare at my empty ring finger. I feel soreness from the collection of tears, but I refuse to allow anymore drop on his behalf. Today is hard enough.

I hug my body, remembering the warmth of his intimate touch. I had kept myself pure for him. Until that night.

Within an hour of making his intentions known to the court, Leo scurries away with his future bride, leaving only a trail of giggles and whispers along the way to his chambers.

Shrugging off his jacket, Leo presses her petite body against the locked door. His hand gently cradles her head, his thumb tracing the length of her jaw. His lips hungrily search hers, wolfishly devouring her mouth before she can react.

“Is this okay?” he whispers under his breath, his smoldering gaze entraps her innocent eyes. Breathlessly focused on his swelling lips, she nods her head dutifully.

He places his hands on her waist before sliding them intently back onto the curves of her ass, grabbing at her fullness under her whimper. A growl becomes his breathing, staring at his prey.

“Do you love me, my future queen?”

Love. Was that love?

The hypnotic rise and fall of the waves is starting to sour my stomach, but the ocean spray is so inviting and calming on my clammy skin. Finding a smooth stone, I seek refuge from the surge of the sea’s tantrum. Relaxing under the gentle rays of the morning sunshine, I close my eyes, only to see him.

He cheats her out of her next breath, his tongue overwhelming her mouth. His eager fingers find the zipper to her ballgown. He paws at her back, his fingers brushing against the secret skin of her body.

Her bra tosses to the wayside; admiring his new found treasure, Leo’s hands plunder her supple curves. His mouth plummets to her hardening nipples, his teeth teasing her nerves with fear. The sudden twinge of pleasure thrashes her head against the door.

“Shall I continue, beautiful?” he exhales, catching his breath; but, before an answer is uttered, he stumbles back into the temptation of her perfect body. His fingers tease across the waistband of her petal pink briefs; her eyes cinch closed, her mouth unable to hold back a moan.

“Someone is enjoying themselves,” he chuckles, standing to tower over her. He kisses her cheek, leaning his mouth close to her ear. “Is this what you want?” He tucks a strand behind her ear.

“Mhmm,” her lips curl slightly, leaning into his touch.

“Do you like what I am doing for you?”

“Yes,” she softly groans.

“Yeah?” He reaches into her panties, her knees buckling to the wandering of his fingers. “Mmmm,” he pulls his hand out, licking his fingertips, “that’s my good girl. You love my touch.” He stands back, shaking off her body. Locking his eyes with hers, he casually steps backwards until he reaches the bed. He slides off his belt, unfastening his slacks.

“Come here,” he motions for her to step closer. “Show me your love for me.”

Madeleine’s eyes focus on his growing girth, bulging from his unzipped pants; but, then her gaze darts around the room. Surely he knows that she isn’t well-versed in such endeavors.

“Maddie?” he combs his fingers through her blonde tresses. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She closes her eyes. The words send a jolt of happiness through her veins. She was experiencing love. She was prepared for everything else, but this?

"Then, let me show you,” he growls, pushing her back onto the bed. Hungrily ripping off her panties, he exposes her to his touch. Youthful and pure. "Are you ready?"

He spreads her legs apart, her thighs trembling. She grips the sheets with her tiny fists. Her doe-like eyes stare into his hunting blues as she feels him touch her again; but this time, it wasn't his fingers.

With an inexperienced push of his hips, red flashes before Madeleine's eyes as she squints her eyes in pain, hiding the gathering of tears. He thrusts again; her teeth gnash at the breaking of her body. Her head thrashes back and forth, groaning as she serves a penance under his rhythmic plunges into her warm, narrow core again and again. Harder and harder. Faster. Deeper.

Without warning, the beating of her body stops, leaving her stretched, completely filled with him. Moaning her name in the company of obscenities, his breathing becomes quick and shallow despite his efforts to slow down. Sweat gathers across his brow as he savors the delicate tightness of her depths. Stumbling into his ecstasy, he loses control, pouring himself into her. The sudden rush of fullness makes her whimper, the sting begins to dull as a smile crawls across her face. His lips meet her soft, glowing skin. Finally, it’s over.

That night: it was so long ago. But, I can still feel it; I can still feel him. The smell and taste of him lingers on my tongue. I miss him.

And with that, my breathing labors as I choke out a sob. I press the back of my hand to my lips as tears cloud my vision from the Mediterranean horizon. A sour pang creeps up my throat as I cradle my tender belly with my other hand. Clenching my eyes closed, I hope to hold back the downpour of tears from my soul. God, please not again.

Madeleine's head rests on Leo's shoulder, his strong arm securely around her exposed body. Her marigold diamond catches the pale moonlight perfectly, it's brilliance mesmerizing the bride-to-be as she subtly teeters her hand on his well-structured chest. He suddenly engulfs her hand with his. Turning towards him, her lips meet his perfectly like the final piece of the puzzle, locking seamlessly in place.

"Runaway with me, Madeleine."

The flecks of evergreen in her eyes sparkle with curiosity. "What--?"

"This life, Maddie," he gently rubs her back, "is this really the life that you want-- that you'd want for us?"

She sits up, taken aback from the peculiar question. "You mean the life we're living right now? Us? Being engaged?”

“Yes--I mean, no. I--” Leo stumbles over his words, dragging his hand across his face. “I love you, and I want to be with you--” he pushes a platinum strand behind her ear, “--but do you ever wonder what it’s like out there? Out in the real world? Away from all of this pressure? Away from all of these rules?”

“Away from the public eye? Living life--” she titters into a big smile, “--like everyday people?"

"Yes." He sighs, pressing her hand against his heart. "Before long, we will be in charge. In charge, Maddie. Of an entire country." There is a quake in his voice, a quiver that even makes her feel chilled. "I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” a breath hitches in his chest. “Will I even be a good king?"

“Of course," she whispers, offering a doting smile, “Of course, Leo," her voice becomes stronger, authoritative. “You can do this. You were made for this. And while, yes, you are the king, you’re not alone.” She laces her fingers with his. “You’ll always have me. You have my support--” she kisses the back of his hand, “and most of all, you have my love.” She leans down to kiss his hand again, but rather he captures her in his arm, bringing her to his lips, making her squeal.

“I love you, Madeleine.”

She moans into his pout as he kisses her once more. “I love you, too, Leo.”

The creaminess to his baritone voice dissipates from my memory, fading away much like our love. How could I have been so foolish? I gave him everything--I promised him everything. My life, my whole existence was for him, and I naively thought that love would somehow stitch us together, that somehow we would be the monarchs that did have it all. Wealth. Power. Love. A happily-ever-after that could join the rankings of the greatest love stories ever told.

But, it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough.

The sudden rapping on the door abruptly wakes Madeleine from a deep sleep. The sunlight pours mercilessly through the windows as she grabs the sheets to cover herself.

The door suddenly tramples open, Constantine bounding first into the room, followed by his head guard Bastien. “Where is he? Where’s Leo?” The king sneers as the blonde trips out of bed, reaching for clothing. “For God’s sakes, couldn’t you two show some fucking self-control?”

Madeleine cinches the high-thread-count sheet around her body, leaving her slender shoulders and décolleté exposed. As a blush crawls across her face, the question begins to haunt her: where is Leo? He wasn’t in bed this morning. In fact, his clothes are missing from their disheveled heap that was next to her discarded dress. His watch and cell phone were missing from the bedside table. But, otherwise everything seemed to be in place.

Madeleine rushes to the ensuite bathroom, hoping to find a logical clue to Leo’s whereabouts there.

"Call him. Now," the king growls at the anxious countess.

"He's not answering us, Countess Madeleine. We assume given your current relationship with his majesty--" Madeleine nods in understanding.

"I'm sorry, but the phone number you're trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

Her eyebrows furrow as she ends the call. "I--I--I don't understand," she stammers, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. "His phone has been disconnected--"

"Fucking ungrateful--” growls Constantine, ripping the phone from Madeleine's tiny hand, “--selfish son of a bitch!" He throws the phone against the wall, shattering it into pieces. He gruffly turns towards his future daughter-in-law. “Are you certain you dialed the right number?" He spits. Madeleine braces herself against a wall, turning her face away from him. She carefully nods, refusing to make eye contact. “Unbelievable!” Constantine knocks over some antique silver candelabras before exiting the room, leaving Bastien behind.

“Sir?’ Madeleine quietly calls to the guard, drawing closer to him, ensuring her body is covered. “What is all the commotion about? Where is Leo?”

“Leo failed to report to his morning engagements about last night festivities. According to our cameras, he left this morning through the northwest gate in an unmarked black Sudan around o’four hundred hours.”

Madeleine cups her mouth as she stumbles to sit down on the bed. She nervously combs her fingers through her tangled tresses. “What does this mean?” She spouts nervously, her body shaking with tears gathering in her eyes.

“Please try not to worry, ma’am,” Bastien carefully places a comforting hand on her bare shoulder, quickly withdrawing it when their eyes awkwardly meet at the gesture. “Um--” he clears his throat, “--I don’t know what he’s doing, but we will find him.” He turns on his heel to leave Madeleine alone when suddenly a thought hits him. “By any chance, did he mention anything to you?”

‘Runaway with me, Madeleine.’ One simple request. He asked me to just simply follow him. I thought he was joking or simply making a hypothetical request due to his uneasy nerves; but, my love for him aside, this was my calling: to serve him. If I had chosen to honor him rather than challenge him… if I had chosen to remind him of responsibility and duty rather than trying to win him over with ludicrous ideas of love in marriage…

Leo abdicated the throne.

No one speaks about royalty relinquishing their responsibilities. We’re born into this; we were made to do this. We spend our entire lives preparing, being told that it is an honor to bear such greatness, it is an honor to host such power. No one speaks of the alternative. Truth be told: if we knew there was a way to escape, to renounce such a life as this, how many of us would take that chance?

It’s been seven weeks since that awful morning. Seven weeks of silence and darkness. Seven weeks of broken dreams and false hope. Seven weeks of only one absolution: Leo had found his freedom. He wasn't coming back.

I pull out the photograph of our love just one more time as the tears gather once more in my eyes. Leo’s last words to me were ‘I love you;’ but somehow as I trace my fingers amongst the black and white print, I have to say, ‘goodbye’ for both of us this morning.

“Ms. Amaranth?”

“Yes, ma’am?” Madeleine wakes from her daydream, her voice trembling. She chews incessantly on her nails as her crossed legs bounce nervously. The sterile white walls around her seem to be closing in around her; the air grows thick, stifling. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

The dark brunette stands to come closer to the blonde. She straightens out her white coat while fixing an endearing smile on her face. She sits down next to Madeleine, taking her hand. “I asked if you are sure about this decision?”

If Madeleine had learned anything in the past two months, it's that she could only be sure about nothing. She stares at her bobbing toe, hypnotically entranced with the clicking of the clock in the exam room.

“There are other options," the doctor continues. "Adoption. Keeping the baby.”

I tear up the ultrasound picture in my hands, letting the wind chase it to the sea. The tattered pieces drift for a place to rest, sinking to the depths my soul will forever crave, a secret place far too precious for this world. For my world.

Goodbye, love.

***

Tag List (please please please let me know if you need to be added or removed!): @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @burnsoslow @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @dcbbw @forallthatitsworth @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @phoenixrising308 @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @taniasethi @texaskitten30 @thefrenchiemama @twinkleallnight @yourmajesty09

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 1

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go... 

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2770

Part One: Faced with Foolishness

         “Well, you know Tessa, she’s being Tessa,” Antha murmured into her phone as she watched her twin sister cozy up to her flavor of the month; Tessa flipped her box braids off her shoulder, the beaded ends flirtatiously tinkling against every surface they met. As if watching a photo negative version of herself, Antha mourned her nonexistent reputation. Had she not spent years hiding in her books she may have been able to rival her uninhibited doppelganger in white hot-pants.

        “Why do you let her do this to you? It never goes as planned, and next thing you know I’ll be cleaning you two up and feeding you McDonald’s at two thirty in the morning!” She didn’t need facetime to picture Doug wincing through the phone, pushing his Buddy Holly styled Ray-Bans up the bridge of his nose.

        “So what you’re saying is how could I let Tessa do this to you?” She laughed, rolling her Havana twists through her fingers to fight off the June humidity. Talking to her best friend helped her forget just how long she had been holding it in line to the bathroom.

         “Ant, look I don’t like that bar—you want me to come get you?”

         “And leave her? I can’t do that—listen, if we don’t call you for a ride home by midnight just come get us. I’m exhausted and I don’t think she will party that long. Besides, you-know-who just showed up.” She watched as Franco the Flake appeared, wasting no time to linger over her sister—Tessa’s flavor of the month, forgotten within an instant. Antha’s eyes rolled like marbles as she turned away to better hear her friend on the phone; some fraternity boys nearby began fist-pumping into the air as the bartender served up a line of shots for them.

         “Ugh, the Flake… well I can hear things are getting started on your end—I’ll keep my phone on me, just don’t drive. Leave her car and I’ll get you two—there’s maniacs out there especially on Friday night.” He warned.

        “I owe you,” she groaned and hung up. Antha finally arrived in the ladies’ room, only two women away from her sweet release. She watched as the women cornered the mirror like crazed wanton things, bending and zhuzhing, adjusting their “girls” to their perkiest potential through scantily low apparel.

        “Heeeyy…” She quietly greeted the woman that exited the nearest stall. The stranger gave her a haughty elevator eye from head to toe making her feel severely underdressed for a Friday night out. When she threw on a sun dress today, she never anticipated her sister would abduct her after class and have them gallivanting across town. Tessa’s exact words were “Godamnit Ant, tonight we’re gonna have fun if it kills us!” A Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she floored the accelerator of her Neon, then cranked up the bass as the radio station started their basement remixes. Fun if it kills us.

        Antha stared at her white sandals, her nail polish was chipped and at least three weeks old. Then she looked to her messenger bag hanging on the back of the door. It was covered in Community College film badges and club stickers, per her friend’s preferences. Antha liked her graffitied messenger bag. Like a billboard, it made her appear she had a life outside of her graduate studies.

        She should have been at home, text books spread on her lap, feet up. She could hear Doug’s old Buick coughing its way up Momma’s drive, then fumbling outside the door, trying to knock with a third of Popov, case of Dogfish Head, and pizza in his arms. Then he would throw everything on the coffee table and announce “I brought Casablanca!” to which she would say “Oh, more white people movies?” and unphased, he would reply “Good god woman, it’s not Birth of a Nation!” Antha smiled, thinking of their weekly ritual of pretending to do research while gossiping long into the night until Zoey and Tessa would drunkenly Uber home. The distinct shamble, like the walking dead, would scrape up the gravel drive signaling their arrival.

        “Hey, you almost done in there?” An annoyed voice yelled over the door, cutting through her reminiscing. Antha could see the reds of the stranger’s eyes between the door crack.

         Instead of lounging on the couch surrounded by good beer and even better friends, Antha found herself being hustled by some Fireball-turned-up twat—all under the guise of having fun. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She replied and flushed. She tightened the belt holding in the billowy fabric of her flowy, mid-thigh, sunflower-printed sundress. It was passed down from her grandmother to her mother and so on. Looking like she walked off the set of a 90’s music video, she admitted that at least she was cooler than the other girls sweating in their skin-tight jeans and heels.

        Some pretty young thing burst through the door past the line and vomited into the trash bin next to Antha while she washed her hands. It was only nine o’clock. That was a bad omen. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she realized she pouted just like Momma in those sorts of situations. She dampened a paper towel for the poor thing and could hear her mother’s words repeating in her head: “When you’re faced with foolishness—you take care of it.” Her mantra: Take care of it. Antha’s mantra: Do what Momma says. Tessa’s mantra: If it ain’t fun don’t do it.

        Antha applied her vanilla lip gloss as she thought on her mother. She made a promise as Momma was lowered in the ground that they would graduate. It was her dying wish that the twins became modern women with college degrees and to have options; to escape the laboring of farming and perhaps even the rinse and repeat of corporate Delaware. That’s all there was in their state: Farming or banking.

        She tucked her shoulder-length braids behind her ears; she truly missed her dreadlocks, but ever since the time Tessa’s boyfriend mistook her for his girlfriend, she cut them off. She was always the one to compromise. Not tonight she decided. Tonight was going to go her way. They would wrap up this foolishness by midnight.

        Antha sighed and knew it was time to face the havoc of the bar when a chatty patron pawed at her sundress asking if it was “vintage”. She replied, “Well it’s old as hell if that’s what you mean,” and hurried out the ladies’ room into the sweltering cacophony of nightlife.

        Fighting across sticky tile and sweaty rednecks she made a beeline for the bartender. “Mar, can I get two?” She bounced on her tip-toes to cut through the crowd huddled around the length of the tacky wooden bar. Maria motioned to the other side because she couldn’t reach through. Antha continued to fight her way through the herd. She could barely hear over the din of the 2016 campaign commercials and sportscasting when Maria slid two cocktails toward her. The southern comfort and coke cocktails reeked with vanilla syrup, Tessa’s favorite. Antha stared into the melting rail drinks and realized she didn’t know what to order herself because she was always the water-boy for her twin.

        “Hey, did you see what’s-his-face is in town?” Maria interrupted her thoughts.

        “Sure did.” She groused and tilted her head in the general direction of where she saw Tessa and Franco last. Through the bodies, for a moment, the crowd parted and the two stared.

        Stepping back from her esteemed role as the older sister, by barely two minutes, Antha admitted to herself that Tessa always looked good. Her off-the-shoulder top exposed a flawless ebony collarbone, shoulder blades, and arms. As if she was the Queen of Sheba incarnate, her tiny wrists were decorated with gold bangles. Her earrings matched the beads in her hair, reflecting light in her hazel eyes. A waterfall of thick box braids fell down her back and over her shoulders, past the tops of her thighs. Her years of dance complimented the country-chic white cut-offs that revealed just a hint of under cheek when she bent across the billiard table.

        “If I were a man, I’d pray for her to bite my head off quick and painless.” Maria laughed, her ponytail frizzing from the heat of her work; her hands rapidly dipping then shining high ball glasses.

        “But that’s not her style.” Antha replied wryly.

        “You’re both good girls. Now you keep her out of as much trouble as you can—I’ll send Kyle ‘round to your table with beers, just let me catch up here!”

        Maria was right: they were good girls. All of Tessa’s shenanigans aside, she never forgot cake for a birthday and with everyone’s break-ups she always had a bottle of Jack stashed with a shoulder to cry on. Tessa was the one that painted Antha’s nails and always lent her the best outfits when the event called for it. On occasion she was even known to deliver soup when her sister ran a fever.

        Tessa was the heart of the operation and Antha couldn’t begrudge her just because she was the head.

        For better or worse, they were sisters.

        Antha reluctantly clutched the chilled drinks and felt a pang of relief in the sweltering bar. She couldn’t see her sister at the billiard table with the onslaught of shuffling patrons, so she decided to move toward her booth. She narrowly missed being covered in appletini as the DJ scratched in one more summer top ten into his rotation. Before she could move forward a voice pinned her in place.

        “Your sister’s the worst, you know that?” A nice-looking guy glared at her. His teeth gleamed pink in the red bar lights. Antha bet he had a handsome smile on account of those white teeth, but he was not smiling now. She squinted through the hazy dance floor and recognized him as the guy Tessa arrived with before Franco appeared.

         “Hey John, don’t fret, Tessa’s just catching up with an old friend—he comes into town every so often, don’t get upset.” She yelled back at his face as kindly as she could manage over the blare of the oncoming band tuning their instruments. For some reason he didn’t seem to believe her and his chest instinctively puffed up.

        “John? I’m José!” He replied. Antha felt embarrassed for both her sister and herself. She grimaced unintentionally, realizing she had said it all with very few words.

        She tried to defend their position with a weak excuse. “José, I’m bad with names and faces—” but he stormed off before she could piecemeal a string of bullshit. There goes another Mr. Last Month.

        This was having fun. Antha doing damage control on last month’s flame, while Tessa stoked a new one. All of the nice memories of her sister evaporated in the heat of the interaction. She grumbled to herself, as she had grown tired of babysitting, not just Tessa but the men-children she dated. When she finally confirmed her party’s booth, she parted the shadowy sea of basic bitches.

        Tessa was giggling like a school girl when her sister dropped the sweaty glasses onto the ratty old table. Franco at her neck like a leech. I hate this guy, Antha thought to herself. He turned his hot gaze on her, “Hi Antha, didn’t see you there.” His drawl was thick like humidity. She thought about giving her drink to Tessa’s date, but now that she could see he was it, she plopped down and selfishly sipped one of the nasty cocktails without offering the second.

        “Oh hey Brian,” she said playfully, “where’s your camera?”

        “Ant, now you know this is Franco, stop playin’!” Tessa tore her eyes away from him for a split second, but after she threw her daggers she was back ogling him like a dog does a bone.

        “Sorry, it’s hard to keep all these blue-eyed, blond, gentlemen straight.” Antha marginally resisted saying yokel under her breath.

        Tessa had a type. Beyond all logic, light eyes were the buckle in her knee, the hitch in her breath; and Franco was at the top of her list. Antha assumed he was the Porsche in her garage amongst a long list of Ford’s, but she honestly didn’t know the whole story. All she knew was that Franco showed his face sparingly and only after dark. He would disappear for weeks at a time, which earned him the endearment The Flake.

        Now, Antha hadn’t dated enough men in her young life to sort them by color and size, but Tessa had. To her credit, her tastes were diverse, she did her research and knew what she liked. No one blamed her either. With that hair and those legs, Tessa could have anyone she wanted. The great appeal of Franco didn’t add up to Antha though. She found him suspicious. She thought his truck was too loud, his jeans too torn, and his eyes much too heavy.

        Franco made idle conversation, inquiring after the twins’ classes as if he cared. His blond, three-quarter parted hair was glossy under the dim lights. When he pulled his tooth pick from the back of his ear and chewed on it, it made him look like an old-fashioned mobster—well until that Delmar twang spilled out of his hillbilly mouth. There was an allure about him; all of his parts matched, but his smile unglued those pieces. A smile that never quite reached his eyes.

        Antha found herself sizing him up, drinking the disgusting cocktail faster than she wanted. I bet he has plastic zip ties and rope in his truck bed, she thought. She didn’t truly know why the image popped into her mind, it was just a feeling she got when his eyes were on her; made her feel like a snack, as if he would eat her alive right where she sat. No more Unsolved Mysteries for me this week, she insisted to herself.

        “Mmmm-hmmm.” Was the best response she could offer when he spoke to her directly. Tessa continued chatted about her business management courses as he deeply stared at her. Antha figured there was no real room for her in the conversation so she took out her world cultures text and flipped to her last page. She liked hanging out, however her final thesis was demanding all of her energy. The page fell open to vampires in the section of Egyptian mythology. She thought how ironic as her eyes shot up at the man sitting across from her.

        “So, there’s this bonfire by Slaughter Bay, I thought you ladies could come with.” Franco suggested lazily like it was too exclusive to be excited about. “You can shotgun babe and we can put Antha and her friends in back.” He eyed the textbooks growing damp on the table. Antha finished the first SoCo and started the second just to cope with him. “You could call up the girls.”

        “Zoey… Zoey... Zoey!” Tessa dramatically said into her drink and then laughed. Antha couldn’t help but smirk as Tessa explained to him her girlfriend was like Candyman and could be summoned via a pint of beer. The joke was partially lost on Franco.

        Before Tessa could agree to go Antha piped up, a little less shy now that her liquid courage had kicked in. “Sounds awfully romantic, but we can’t.” Before she could continue she was interrupted.

        “Hey girl haaayyyy!” Zoey appeared as if out of thin air and snatched one of the beers sent over by the bartender. “You goin’ nowhere without me—not after I Ubered across town!” Her two rando friends hollering and sloshing their drinks.

        “How the hell do you do that?” Antha insisted, amazed that their friend appeared.

        “Uhhhh, never you mind—we can make bonfire plans later—its ten o’clock, I’m here and Bieber is playing! GET UP!” Zoey declared, the glitter from her eyes dusting every surface.

        “Keep an eye on my friends.” Antha told Franco as she abandoned her books to be dragged to the floor. This was the moment she decided she was getting them all out of there; she didn’t like the sound of a bonfire with him and she certainly wasn’t allowing Tessa to go on her own either. She sent a pre-written text message to Doug: “Get here.” Which was their code for its really going down, I need back up.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @plastic-heart @myraiswack @wolfpawn​

[danideservedbetter]

Alright so, here’s how things are gonna work.

First off, welcome to this side blog. Since it won’t be jolly fun fandom content and will be a little more personal I decided to separate my health and writing journey from my fandom stuff, although all my fandom content will still be linked on my main blog here.

(I write Izuocha/bnha content which isn’t super popular so if you’re not here for that then yeah, I don’t blame you. But if you are I have a link to our discord and community content pinned so def check it out if you’re interested.)

Secondly, you guys will hear details about stuff relating to my health like what kinds of things affect my disorder based on the tests some doctors are ordering, how I’m trying to improve my diet and activity, and routines and goals I’m attempting for myself. I am underweight, and that’s something I’m going to be talking a bit about, so if that’s triggering following this blog might not be the best thing for you. Details under the cut.

So, what kind of disorder do I have and why did I decide to make a health journey blog? My disorder is called idiopathic hypersomnia. Basically what that means is that when my disorder is acting up (based on factors like stress especially or my generalized anxiety rearing its ugly head) I have the capacity to sleep. And sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep. My longest recorded uninterrupted “sleep-attack” was 26 hours long and ever since I caught Covid in January, my body had been slowly growing weaker to the point I was starting to develop atrophy. I’ve had this ten years and my neurologist suspects inactive cells from mononucleosis I caught at 14 was the cause, because other IH patients have linked their sleeping problems to a case of mono or have had it at some point in their lives.

This disease stole many years and many things I’ve looked forward to from me. I lost friends and experiences and failed so many college classes I had to drop out.

I’ve decided I’m taking them back.

It’s not going to be easy. Just as it took ten years to convince myself that my tiredness was something I chose to give into, it took several extra years and many fights with my family to convince them that I had a real actual neurological disorder and that I need help sometimes. My parents and grandmother finally understand that I have to finish college and find a very special boss willing to work around my erratic progress on projects, but the outsiders they married are not as convinced. My grandmother’s husband kicked me out of their house because he wants to be the center of attention and doesn’t like that some days I’m so weak that I needed my grandmother’s help, and my father’s wife thinks I’m a lazy and ungrateful leech who “gets anxiety just being around” me. Both told my father I’ll never be happy so why even bother with me, but my dad is actually striving to understand his own recently-diagnosed PTSD so while we still butt heads he’s understanding that I have to take things day by day because every tiny circumstance affects my disorder.

Now, why did I decide to air all this out? Well, being open about my disorder and how it affects me has helped at least two people that I know of find out that the tiredness they experience isn’t the typical “American work force exhaustion” they were trained to believe is normal. So if I can help even one more, I’ll gladly talk about what this entails and how I deal with it day to day. Another reason is that I’m also one of those big advocates who believes talking candidly about mental health destigmatizes it and sharing ideas can help us grow as people and maybe make it a little easier to deal with.

So now that you know a little bit about me and my disorder, here are my big goals for the next three months provided my university takes pity on me and actually lets me go back.

First up: create routines to train my body to get used to living a full day fully awake. This includes waking up at the same time and going to sleep at the same time. It means getting dressed and going out and doing things, even little things— which I’ll get to in a sec.

Second: I write. I have a novel in limbo and I write fanfics. Writing is a big part of who I am and I’ve written one thing this year, which for a whole six-month stretch is upsetting and disappointing. Today is my reset. In the next 569 days I want to to finish the six stories I have in limbo (except the larger one) and finally reach my goal of posting 200k words in a single year. I wont be hard on myself if I can’t accomplish this because honestly finishing anything in the chaos of my life is going to be a miracle but. There ya go.

Third: go back to freakin college. I don’t care what it takes. Sit down with every official, every lawyer, and every professor it takes to get me back enrolled in classes in the fall.

Fourth: I have several smaller things I have to do, short term goals, stuff like that. I’m gonna create a to do list each day of small tasks I want to get done and while some of these things will be part of my daily routine I am throwing in like one or two things a day that just need to be done. My writing goal will change daily and I’ll keep y’all updated on that with every post I make.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Dani! That’s so much!! Well, a few months ago I remembered hey!! I basically have a computer in my hand, why make it hard on myself. So I downloaded certain apps to help me out. This isn’t me saying “hey go subscribe to these apps because I said so” it’s just that through a lot of trial and error I’ve come to find that these certain apps work for me and I’ve yet to come across one that has the functionality of everything I need.

Tiimo — so this is an app I found developed by people with autism for people with autism to help them develop good habits and routines. It has preset daily schedules (things like morning routines or nightly routines or work routines) and an internal alarm to let you know when to move on to the next task. I myself have extremely low-level aspergers (to the point where my doctor won’t give me an official diagnosis because I didn’t want people think that *it’s* the reason I have issues with school), so moving from task to task can be difficult sometimes and I also deal with getting distracted. This widget also appears on my home screen so I know what I have to do at a glance. You can program in weekly and daily tasks to fully customize your schedule, which is fantastic for someone like me who wants to for example rotate chores. This is hopefully going to help me get my body in the habit of adjusting to routines and transitioning from one task to another, as well as getting important things done responsibly.

Promptly Journals — I’ve been told for a while that journaling is helpful mentally to kind of recenter yourself, so a bit ago I downloaded several journal apps to add to my morning routine. Now some will prefer more creatively free journals, but I prefer this one that gives me small prompts I can do in a short amount of time that just allows me to get my thoughts down. I can even add pictures at the bottom that go with the theme! I’m scared I’ll run out of prompts eventually lol but until then this app works very well for my needs.

Stretchingexercise — Now idk if it’s from lack of sleep from my disorder, the position I sleep in when I do sleep, all the physical labor I’ve had to do in the past couple weeks, my medicine, or w h a t but I suffer from body aches like no one would believe. I know stretching is supposed to help with that, so I downloaded this app to help me do non-demanding physical activity that wakes me up in the mornings and helps relieve pain so I don’t keep having to take pain relievers. This one has different plans for things like muscle tension, back pain, warm ups— and it also gives you rudimentary weight updates (I’m underweight lololol so we’re looking to fix that) or plan updates. It’s worked really well for me so far and gives you animations and descriptions of the workouts (some taken from yoga) as well as timed breaks and a narrated guide. It’s been pretty helpful in temporary relief and if nothing else gets my blood flowing in the mornings.

Widgetsmith Step counter — in addition to the stretching thing one thing my doctor and I discussed that helps with the sedentary lifestyle is simply walking. I’ve needed so bad to relieve my stamina and reverse the atrophy, and walks have been stellar for that. Now I live in the New Orleans area so humidity and heat force me to go at the crack of Dawn, but honestly my weenie dachshund Charlie really enjoys our time out so he goes with me! The CDC recommends 10,000 steps a day which seems like a lot and it is if you don’t get out much. But this gives me an excuse to get dressed and do the hygienic thing and help Charlie be healthy too, as well as give me time for brainstorming because we walk in a truly beautiful area. I’m sure everyone installed widgetsmith with the last iOS update (Apple users anyway) and while at first the step counter was just interesting I’ve since come to rely on it! We do our 5000 in the morning, which of course is half, and I find that other things I do throughout the day typically drive the counter higher. Anything leftover can easily be accomplished by an evening walk in our neighborhood. Now the caveat is that I have to remote have my phone in my pocket because I don’t own a watch or anything fancy lol, but honestly I need to keep it on me anyway so that serves as a good reminder.

Todoist — this one is my FAVORITE. Ever since I’ve decided that I have trouble keeping track of things I need to do and small stuff I need to keep in mind and appointments, etc, I decided to find a list app. This is the one I found that absolutely helps me for everything from my list of room supplies I need to buy, to my reading list, to general tasks I have coming up I need to complete. And its widget functionality keeps it right on my Home Screen! More organized individuals can just use tiimo, but I’m definitely not one of those individuals so this app is sorely needed and appreciated.

And of course, I know building habits the first few weeks is HARD. So for days my body doesn’t respond to my alarms, I have a checklist of the key things I have to do to keep my life as functional as possible.

So that’s that on that. I’m going to try to keep writing updates and my daily goals in a post in the morning, and reblog what I accomplished in the evening. It’s gonna be tough. But I’m thinking if I can start small I’ll be able to build my stamina enough to return to college and be successful when I do. I hope that anyone watching this journey draws some kind of meaning or inspiration from it. And you guys can even follow along if y’all want! Especially for writers or people trying to get healthier. I can’t promise what works for me will work for you (and honestly I expect things to change especially if I get accepted into college again) but hey, I figure it’s worth a shot.

I hope you guys enjoy watching this journey, if nothing else I hope it’s entertaining. And maybe it’ll be successful. I do know that I’m just gonna try for it, and hope it works out.

First daily update to follow

Xoxo

Dani

[talkfastromance4]

What a Feeling (c.h)

Yes, the title is a one direction song, they’re my boys for lyfe. But yeah. Found this in a document and I forgot how much I liked this so here we are lol. The italics are being told from a different point in time of their relationship

Warnings: sexual tendencies because why wouldn’t there be lol

Word count: 4,868

Masterlist

Requests, feedback, or if you just want to say hello, send them here! Or if you want to be added to my taglist!

___________

Calum rolls over under the crisp white sheets of the hotel room, his arm reaching across to feel her skin but he’s met with vacant warmth. He slides up on his hands looking around the room until he finds you leaning on the black metal railing of the balcony. The moonlight pours in flooding her in its cool shine. 

Calum admires her from his spot in the bed, the way her ankles are crossed and how cute her butt looks peeking out from under her light purple nightgown. Her  hair falls beautifully down her back.

She went out shopping earlier with his sister while he was doing sound check with the guys, and when he got back he found a small white bag sitting on the edge of their bed. Y/N’s in the bathroom applying her makeup.

“Did you buy me something?” He called to her stepping closer to the bed. He hates when she spends money on him, she gives him enough just by loving him.

“Yeah, just something small!” she hollered back.

Curious, he plucked out the white tissue paper letting it flutter to the bed. He sees some sort of purple fabric lying at the bottom of the bag and he pulled it out to see a small satin nightgown. He held the straps between his fingers, his throat goes dry imagining her wearing this for him and only him.

“What do you think?” she asked behind him.

He spins on the spot to see her leaning against the wall, her hand on her dress covered hip, a grin on her face.

“I don’t think this is my size,” he wiggled the small ensemble in front of him causing her to giggle which was his goal in the first place.

“Guess I’ll have to wear it then, huh?” she smirked then turns back into the bathroom.

“Can you show me a little preview?” he tossed the gown onto the bed and met her in the bathroom while she’s putting her makeup away.

“You’ll see it after the show, bud,” she chuckled looking at him through the mirror.

“That’s another six hours from now!” he pouted

“Aww, poor baby,” she turned around pinching his cheek.

He pulled her to him by her waist, her hands rested on his chest looking up at him.

“You just love driving me crazy, don’t you woman?” he kissed her lips before she could retort something back.

Calum pushes himself off the bed, not even bothering to put on his boxers, and moves behindY/N. He places his arms on either side of her so he’s clutching the railing, trapping her between his arms and he drops a kiss to her shoulder. It’s cool in the Parisian air, she presses against him instantly.

“Hey,” she greets softly.

“Hi pretty girl,” he mumbles on her skin trailing his lips across her shoulder and into the curve of her neck. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“The moon is so bright it woke me up,” she sighs. “And I needed to cool down.” Her fingers trace up and down his arm, it sends shivers up his neck. “I love Paris,” she sighs.

“I love you,” he murmurs in her ear. He brushes her hair away from her neck so he can still trace his lips on her skin. She’s so soft.

“I love you, too,” she hums.

“You’re thinking about something else, aren’t you?” he asks freezing his lips on her skin.

“How’d you know?”

“Cause I know you. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just wish we could do this in public,” she sighs leaning into his chest, his arms wrap around her instinctively.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

He hates keeping their relationship in the dark, not being able to hold her hand or kiss her cheek and keeping a good enough distance between them was exhausting. When Ashton went public with Ruby and Calum saw all the backlash they both got, he didn’t want to put Y/N through that. He knows she’s tough but beneath that exterior he knows it would crush her that his fans were upset he was in a relationship.

Yes, they wanted him to be happy but with them being the reason. Forget that he was known for not believing in love in the first place, he thought his fans should be happy that he’s found someone who makes his heart soar and makes him feel things he’s never felt with anyone else.

Ashton and Ruby pulled through, she’s fiery that  way, but it did cause some arguments between them. Calum didn’t want that to happen to him and  Y/N. They’d been together for nearly eight months now, the best eight months of his life, and it was nice just having those closest to them in their circle knowing of their love for one another.

But. 

He knew she was getting tired of hiding it. If she’s out with them while exploring the city they’re in and fans come up for photos and autographs, she makes sure to disappear. She doesn’t want to be in photographs because she knows how the fans can fabricate false stories just from one photo.

“It is what it is,” she shrugs.

Calum’s heart pulls at her words, he knows she’s saying that for his benefit and that’s what makes it worse.

“I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, Y/N. You know that, right?”

She twists in his arms so her back is on the railing. Her fingers smooth his furrowed brows and strokes his cheek, feeling his prickly stubble beneath the pads of her fingers.

“I know, and same goes for me, Cal. There’s been no one like you, and there never will be.”

“You’re the love of my life, sweetheart,” he declares.

Y’N’s eyes move from his lips to his eyes, they widen at his proclamation and she gasps softly. She smiles widely, tugging at his short blond hairs to pull his mouth down to hers for a sweet kiss. His arms wrap around her more tightly, he parts her lips and slips his tongue into her mouth. She moans into him, their tongues massaging together. They break apart panting, she tugs on his hair once more.

“Come back to bed?” he asks quietly and she nods.

Calum lifts her effortlessly in his arms walking backwards until he falls onto the bed. He scoots to the headboard pulling her with him so she’s straddling his lap. Her hands leave his hair for a moment to the bottom of her nightgown but he stops her by kissing over the swell of her breast.

“Keep it on, baby.”

He slips his hand between her legs rubbing his finger between her folds, feeling her slick already for him. He smiles as she grinds onto him slightly. She squeezes his shoulders, he continues to tease her and he nips at her skin.

“Want you to ride me, baby,” he breathes.

“Mhm,” she hums rising her hips up.

He lines himself up with her entrance, rubbing his cock between her folds using her wetness to lube him up. She rocks her hips against his tip, she’s already aching for him and he fucking loves it. He pushes into her, she adjusts herself on  before sliding all the way down his length. They both groan at the sensation of him finally filling her up. She bites the tip of his nose hissing as she rolls her hips.

Calum bunches the fabric of her nightgown, his hands splaying on her stomach and under her breasts as he helps her move on top of him. He leans forward and she moans as the angle of him fucking her changes slightly. She lifts herself up and down while continuing to rock her hips against his.

“Good girl,” he praises, “you feel so good . . . you’re so good at riding me, baby,” he pants.

Her arms tighten around his neck and she rises higher off him, he bucks his hips upwards to meet her and she lets out a high pitched moan between her labored breaths. She moves faster, fingers tugging at the roots of his hair and he knows she’s close. Her movements become jerky. He tightens his hold on her and kisses her neck, biting and sucking on the skin.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? Cum on me, you’re doing so good,” he tells her knowing his words will get her there faster.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she moans jerking herself on him faster, faster until he feels her clench around him.

He picks up where she falters, thrusting into her quickly as she experiences her orgasm. Her body clenches as the high dissipates then gives him a sloppy kiss. Their teeth clash because he’s still fucking into her, loving her body on top of his, loving her moans in his ear, loving her.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he praises again moving his hands to her lower back. 

The silky fabric billows around her and onto his hands as he guides her against him again. He kisses between her cleavage, making a point to leave a mark between her breasts.

She moans relentlessly, her mouth on his forehead. She tastes the saltiness from his sweat and Calum is still sucking on her breast as she comes again on top of him.

“Feels so good,” she pants dropping her head onto his shoulder.

Calum feels her bite into his neck and he moans against her, he fucks her hard and fast while she continues to mark up his skin. She knows the perfect spot and soon he’s coming into her. He’s moaning and grunting, her own mewls mix in with his sounds and it’s a symphony of salacious sounds. He jerks against her until his orgasm cools down but they remain connected.

Kisses are pressed here and there, anywhere they can make contact with murmured ‘I love you’s’ mixed in. Calum falls back against the headboard, his hair clings to his forehead due to the sweat and he admires her. He loves her like this, skin flushed and her legs weak from him. He tucks loose strands from her face behind her hair before stroking her cheek.

†††††

Roy and Calum were having a small get together at their place. Calum and the boys needed a bit of a breather from working on the album, the chords and riffs of the last three songs they were working on mushed together in his brain. He needed a small break.

It was a pretty chill party with only their closest friends when Calum realized he left his pack of cigarettes in the house so he left the patio to retrieve them. Once inside, he heard softy baby talk and the small jingle of Duke’s collar. He turns the corner leading into the living room and sees Y/N crouched down on the floor scratching Duke’s belly.

“Who’s such a good boy? Hm, are you a good boy, Duke? Yes you are, you’re a very good boy,” she praises and Calum can see his dog’s tail thumping on the floor excitedly.

“You’re such a ladies man, Duke,” Calum chuckles causing Y/N to whip around quickly.

She smiles at him and Calum takes her in quickly. He’s only hung out with Y/N a few times, she’s friends with Ruby, and he’s liked her from the start. She’s funny and smart and is always eager to jump in conversation about anything. She’s got on a floral tank top with black leggings and white converse, so simple yet Calum really liked the look.

“Sorry, I’m a sucker for cute dogs,” she chuckles rising from the floor. Duke flips over onto his stubby little legs bouncing up to her.

“I think he’s a sucker for you, too,” Calum grins and Holly picks him up easily. He licks her face and it makes her giggle. “Why aren’t you out back for the party?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Mr. Hood,” she kisses Duke’s nose.

“I asked first,” he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Used the bathroom then this handsome little guy distracted me. Right? Yes you did!” her eyes are bright with excitement when she looks at Duke then glances back at Calum. “Your turn.”

“Forgot my pack inside, came to get them,” he strides to the counter where he left them picking them up. When he turns around, Holly’s making a face. “What’s with the grimace?”

“Hm? I’m not grimacing,” she shakes her head still cuddling with Duke.

“Yes you are,” he laughs. “I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

“I just think smoking is gross, that’s all,” she shrugs making a point not to lock eyes with Calum. “It takes off five years of your life, makes your fingers gross, you can get cancer, your teeth rot . . . all bad things.”

Calum lets out a low whistle. “You didn’t hold back, did ya?”

“Sorry,” she shrugs but she sounds anything but sorry. “And,” she heaves a big sigh letting Duke back on the floor. She places her hands on her hips, “it’s no fun kissing an ashtray.”

“Is that you saying you want to kiss me?” he smiles cocking his head to the side watching her walk backwards to the patio door.

“Maybe,” she shrugs then nods to the pack in his hand, “but not if that was on your lips.” She flashes him a smile then disappears outside leaving Calum staring after her in amusement.

The few times they’ve hung out wasn’t anything special. They got along fine but never had she flirted with him before, nor hinted at being attracted to him. He taps his pack against his palm then tosses it back on the counter before heading back out. Y/N smile at his empty hands and continues talking to Ruby and Sierra.

It was nearing one a.m when Roy finally went to bed and it was just Calum and Y/N by the fire. The soothing yet tantalizing sound of Cigarettes after Sex plays softly in the background and Y/N is moving along with the music. Her eyes are closed, her mouth moving along with the lyrics and Calum is entranced.

The warm golden glow on her skin makes her look soft and warm and he’s watching her lips move wondering just what they’d feel like on his own.

“I can feel you staring,” she says.

Calum blinks then scratches the back of his head in embarrassment of being caught. When he looks up at her again, she’s smiling and rises from her spot on the chair and joins him on the bench.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sitting up a little straighter, he adjusts his arm on the back of the bench so he’s not touching her but she moves back so she is.

“Sorry about before,” she sighs rolling her head in his direction. “I was a bit harsh and I’m in no position to tell you what to do. We’re  barely friends.”

“You think we aren’t friends?” he furrows his brows at her.

She shrugs. “We’ve only hung out a few times. I feel like I’m imposing cause Ruby always tags me along. I dunno. I guess we’re very close acquaintances.”

“Nah, you’re more than that,” he shakes his head leaning a bit closer to her. “The guys tell me all the time how my smoking is bad, but they never said girls don’t like kissing a smoker. Makes me rethink my life choices.”

“Glad the idea of kissing girls might save your life,” she chortles resting her arm on top of his. His fingers brush against her back, he feels her smooth skin when she moves.

“I’ve only got one in mind,” he admits and her stomach does a backflip.

“Yeah? Who’s that?”

“Her best friend is dating my best mate, she was inside playing with my dog instead of being out with the party and told me straight up she thinks smoking is gross.”

“Hmm, she sounds pretty fuckin’ awesome,” she smiles.

“She is,” he nods inching closer. The space between them minimizes and her mouth opens slightly, eyes darting between his lips and his eyes. “She’s real pretty, too.”

“Ha—“

His lips are on hers and she sighs against his plump lips, they’re just as soft as she imagined they would be. It’s an innocent kiss, mouths molding together slowly then he pulls away.

“I don’t taste like an ashtray, do I?” he mumbles rubbing his nose against hers.

“No,” she whispers pressing her hand to his cheek, “but I don’t like the taste of beer too much.”

“Shut up,” he laughs and kisses her again before she can retort a smart mouth comment back.

  †††††

“Hey, your head’s in the clouds,” Holly’s voice pulls Calum from his memory of their first kiss. She strokes her fingers over the back of his hand lightly. 

They’re out for dinner with the rest of the group and though they’re sitting next to each other, the distance is much too far for either of their liking.

“Sorry, got lost in a memory,” he smiles softly. 

The chatter of their friends drone out their side conversation and all too soon, her touch is gone from his skin. He reaches over taking her fingers in his dropping them between the spaces of their chairs. She stares at him in shock but doesn’t pull away.

“What memory?” her thumb rubs circles over his knuckles.

“Our first kiss.” He loves seeing her cheeks flush, she remembers it all too well.

“That was a good night,” she smiles. “My plan of getting you to stop smoking worked.”

He raises his eyebrows in amusement at her teasing. “It was all a ploy, huh? You didn’t really want to kiss me, did you?”

“I did! I’m just kidding,” she snickers nudging his shoulder playfully.

“I’m hurt, babe,” he places his hand over his chest in mock pain, he gives her the most pitiful look he can muster. “Truly hurt.”

“I promise I’ll make it up to you, baby,” she squeezes his fingers.

Their small, intimate moment is broken by Luke who brings them back into conversation, but their fingers remained linked under the table.

 †††††

When they are out and about walking through the streets, some fans cross the road asking for pictures. Before the fans stopped them, Calum was walking behind Y/N. He always liked to keep her in his sight when they’re out in public to make sure she’s safe. He watches her make herself invisible when the fans arrive, Calum’s heart deflates at that but he does his best to smile and be friendly to the fans.

He’d keep glancing at her throughout the interaction until finally the fans dispersed and their group continued on their way to the Museé de l’Orangerie. Y/N was practically bouncing out of her shoes as they walked throughout the exhibit and Calum bumped into her when they came to the Water Lilies room.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I just can’t believe I’m going to see my favorite painter’s work,” she shakes her head.

With a quick check of their surroundings, Calum leans forward to kiss her cheek, she’s too in shock to reprimand him.

“Let’s head in then, yeah?” he laces his fingers with hers again pulling her with him into the oval room.

She gasps softly taking it all in, she moves to one wall where the lilies are more prominent, her fingers slipping out of his grasp. Calum watches her fondly as she steps closer and closer until her hand lifts to the canvas but she doesn’t touch it.

“Look at his brush strokes, this is amazing. He actually touched this, he painted this,” she shakes her head, her voice wavering. 

A long time ago she’d mentioned that Claude Monet was her favorite painter and when Calum found out the band would be in France for a week he bought her a plane ticket to join them.

Calum stays in the center of the room turning as she continues walking around, he could watch her marvel at this painting for hours. She makes comments every now and then, gasping here and there at some detail she notices and Calum is loving every minute of it.

He can’t take it anymore and he crosses the space between them. He spins her around by her waist, one hand holding her face and he kisses her right in the middle of one of the most famous artworks. She kisses him back then remembers they aren’t in the safety of their hotel room and regrettably pulls away.

“Calum, people could see,” she whispers.

“I don’t care,” he strokes her cheek. “Seeing you in here has made me fall even more in love with you.”

She smiles looking down then presses her forehead against his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist and he pulls her even closer. He never really understood art, but now he finally gets what a masterpiece is.

He’s in love with one.

†††††

Calum and Roy are having another party at their house, it’s been a few months since Calum and Y/N have been going out. Their friends caught on real quick but they didn’t mind because they were in their own little bubble of warmth and happiness.

When Y/N arrives at their house, she spots Calum sitting in one of the patio chairs, his back is to her. She sneaks up behind him wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders resting her cheek against his before attacking him in soft kisses. She loved kissing his cheeks.

“Hi pretty girl,” he chuckles trying to pull away from her attacks but he loves it and she knows it. He yanks her hands from his chest swinging her around from behind and pulls her onto his lap.

“Hi,” she says shyly. She adjusts herself on his lap, her right hand moves to his hair and begins to play with it immediately. She kisses his forehead then acknowledges the rest of the group. “Hey everyone.”

“So you can see us, then,” Ashton giggles and Ruby smacks his arm rolling her eyes.

“They’re in love, be quiet,” Ruby reprimands.

“I’m in love, too but I’m aware of my surroundings.”

“Thanks, babe,” Ruby sighs and Calum laughs.

“Dug yourself in that one, mate,” he chuckles leaning back against the chair. 

His left arm braces Y/N ’s back while his right rubs the top of her thighs as she continues to play with his hair. It’s become an unspoken decision that they somehow are always in constant contact.

“I didn’t mean—no! Babe, you know I’d take you here and now but I don’t think everyone would—“

“All right, enough,” Ruby giggles covering Ashton’s mouth as everyone laughs awkwardly. “I know what you meant, Cal and Y/N are in the puppy love phase, that’s all.”

“We might be in this phase for a while,” Y/N grins, Calum pinches her side in silent agreement.

“Be happy you don’t have to hear it,” Roy mutters.

“Is she loud or is Cal?” Luke laughs hysterically.

“She is.”

“Oh my God, please stop!” Y/N shouts hiding her face in Calum’s neck.

His laughter shakes her body and he rubs her back gently. “He’s just jealous, babe. None of his girls make a peep.”

“Shut the fuck up, yes they do!” Roy defends.

“I don’t hear ‘em,” Calum laughs and Holly removes her face from the cover of Calum’s neck. He kisses her cheek.

“Because they’re respectful of my roommate.”

“Sure, that’s it,” Cal grins.

“So Y/N ,” Michael interjects, “how loud are you?”

†††††

Calum was using all his best moves on Y/N, he knew what she liked, where her most sensitive spots were and he knew exactly how to get her pretty moans to be present. But each time he used his tongue a certain way, she’d make a small squeak then stop herself.

 He hasn’t seen Y/N in three months because he’s been doing photoshoots and promos and they’ve finally got some alone time in his hotel room.

He removes his mouth from between her legs after she came (silently) and crawls up the length of her body so he was hovering over her. She’s breathing heavily, her eyes glazed over from her orgasm.

“Why are you being so quiet?” he asks suddenly concerned. Was he not succeeding in making her feel good? He’s thought of nothing but her moans late at night when he’d think about her and now that he’s finally with her, nothing. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“What? No, you’re amazing,” she shakes her head.

“You’re not making noise,” he states and she bites her lip.

“I don’t want the guys to make fun of me,” she admits quietly looking down.

He softens at that then chuckles until he collapses on top of her laughing into her warm neck.

“It’s not funny!” she exclaims.

“Babe, honestly they could care less. I just know for a fact that they’ve never made a girl sound like you do, hell, I’ve never been with anyone who moans loud as you.”

“Oh great,” she rolls her eyes before covering them with her hand.

“Hey,” he tugs her hand away easily placing it above her head. He stares into her eyes. “I fucking love how loud you are, babe. It’s such a turn on and it helps me know I’m pleasing you.”

“Really?” she reaches her free hand to cup his cheek and tug away his unruly hair that clung to his forehead.

“Yes really,” he nudges her legs wider apart and plunges into her. He can’t help but smirk when her back arches high off the bed, her eyes roll back as he fills her up. He nips and sucks loudly on her breast that was shoved into his face. She squeaks quietly and he has an idea.

He takes his other hand removing hers from his hair to place it at the top of her head like the other one. He holds her wrists tightly, releases her nipple with a loud pop and nearly pulls all the way out of her before plunging back into her roughly. He does the same action twice more, her breath hitching each time but still she doesn’t make a peep.

Calum growls and picks up his pace just the way she likes it. 

“Let me hear how I’m making you feel,” he commands. “Moan for me, baby. You like when I hold your wrists, hm?”

Just like that, a high pitched moan slips from her lips and it’s music to Calum’s ears. He pounds into her faster, her moans tumble in different ranges and soon she’s panting out ‘yes!’ repetitively.

“That’s my girl,” he praises watching her unfold beneath him. “Love hearing you. Can you scream my name, pretty one? Hm? Do I need to fuck you faster?” she nods and he tightens his hold on her wrists slightly. “Use your words.”

“Faster, faster,” she begs angling herself for him to do just that. Her legs wrap around his waist and Calum fucks into her at rapid speed and soon she’s screaming and mewling.

He feels her clench around him but he keeps moving until he feels her body tense. Even then, he ruts his hips against her and gives her neck wet kisses.

“That’s my good girl,” he groans slowing his hips down slightly. “You’re so sexy when you moan.”

“Cal,” she exhales rolling her hips against his.

“Hm?” he nibbles on her ear.

“You know what makes me really loud?”

He pulls his lips from her skin to look at her, a dazed smile on her face and he knows exactly what she’s talking about. He pulls out of her tapping the side of her knee. “Turn around,” he says.

He loves how she gathers herself before flipping over onto her stomach, face into the pillows with her ass in the air. Fuck, he loved this position as much as she did. He kneads into her ass then laps up her pussy with his mouth efficiently before grabbing hold of her hips.

He fucks her fast and with precision. Moans and whimpers echo about the room, she reaches her hand behind her back and Calum grabs onto it locking their fingers together. 

She lets out a cry as she clenches around him, bouncing her ass against him. Her preening and constant orgasms makes his approach faster and faster. Before he can pull out he’s coming inside her hissing a string of curse words

With their bodies spent and minds reeling, he collapses next to her and she blinks at him slowly. Pure bliss shines through her eyes and he’s never seen that look on her before. 

“All right?” he asks licking his lips nervously and touches her face. 

“Give me . . . a minute,” she pants then exhales a deep yet satisfied sigh.

“We get it, she’s loud! Can we fucking sleep now?” Michael shouts from outside their door pounding on it.

They both erupt in laughter.

“What a feeling to be a king beside you,” Calum teases and her eyes dance.

_____________________

Taglist: @galcalirwin​ @cashtonasff5sos​

[thisistenhyungsunderwear]

Hello sweetheart! Since you just opened requests, can I ask for a drabble or whatever you are most comfortable writing, maybe some smut with mark tuan?? if you don't have many ideas maybe something related to a break up and how the reader always keeps running back to his house because she can't forget him... yeah you know hahaha thank you!!!

Hi I hope this works, I kinda twisted the plot in the slightest but same idea lol hehe🥰

Group: Got7

Warnings: MakeupSex, Oral!FemaleRecieving, UnprotectedSex(Wrap it before you tap it kids), kinda soft

Word Count: 1781

"You can't keep pulling this shit Mark!" You yelled into the phone. "I can't keep doing this with you. This always happens." 

"Woah baby chill out, don't start getting any ideas." He said, recollecting himself from the screaming match you both just had. 

"No Mark, I can't keep doing this, this is the third time we've fought in the past week. Aren't you tired?" Your voice broke. Mark was silent on the other end. "I don't think I can do this with you anymore. I'm sorry." This time you gave him no opportunity to respond. You hung up your phone and threw it across the room. Tears filled to the brim, threatening to fall out. Your phone began vibrating across the room. You glanced over, hope flooding you that maybe it was Mark.

No. No you didn't. You and him weren't together anymore. No more going back. The phone started its series of vibrations again. 

Lost in your emotions, you didn't even realize the tears began streaming down your cheeks. A choked sob erupted from your throat. The phone stopped vibrating. 

Your knees threatened to give out as you walked over to your phone. More sobs and gasps started as you stared at the screen.

Missed call from Mark♡ (2)

New voicemail from Mark♡

You wanted to call him back. You wanted to apologize. You wanted to tell him you loved him. But you wanted the constant fighting to stop. You wanted to stop hearing his pleas for you to stop crying. You wanted the stress to stop.

It took you a minute to pick up your phone. It wouldn't hurt to just listen to the voicemail...hear his voice one last time. 

You unlocked your phone and pressed on the notification, which brought you straight to the voicemail. Hesitantly you pressed play and turned your volume all the way up.

"Baby, y/n" Mark's voice filled the room, the scratchiness evident from the crying and yelling in his voice, "baby, please, answer the phone. I need you. I know we've been fighting and god I'm such an idiot for letting it get this far. Baby I love you, so much, and I can't lose you. Please, answer the phone. Call me. I can't lose you." 

He stayed on the line for a minute longer, choked sounds coming out, as if he wanted to say more, but he couldn't make himself, then the line went dead. 

"My god," you whispered, regret washing over you. Why did you even let it get this far. 

You let your body go where it wanted, and immediately you were rushing out the door and to your car, barefoot and in nothing but shorts and one of Mark's hoodies, of course. 

The drive to his house was short. Maybe because he only lived 10 minutes away, or because you went 20 over the speed limit. Either way, you wasted no time pulling up in his driveway and running to the front door. You knocked on the door a few times, and tapped your foot impatiently.

A few seconds later, Mark opened the door. His eyes were red and puffy, his hair was a mess. He was in sweats and a tshirt, barefoot. 

A million thoughts ran through your mind all at once, but you ignored them all and jumped forward into his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck and squeezed as tight as you possibly could. 

"Im sorry fuck im so sorry I cant even begin to tell you how much I regret arguing baby I-" Mark began despertely rambling to you, trying to explain himself to you.

"Mark, please just kiss me." You cut him off, pulling back to look at him.

He didn't reply. Instead he pulled you in impossibly closer and stared down at you before leaning in and connecting your lips.

Behind his kiss was more passion and emotion than any of his words could even convey to you. 

When you broke apart, he looked down at you, the sadness now gone from his eyes. He was looking at you with love in his eyes, a million emotions conveyed in one glance. 

"Let me show you how much you mean to me, hm?" he asked quietly, lifting your chin up with his pointer finger to look at him fully. You nodded slowly and leaned back into kiss him quickly, before he took your hand and lead you to his bedroom. 

Taking you carefully, he laid you down on the bed below him and continued to kiss you, never one breaking the kiss unless it was to remove both of your shirts. His hand roamed endlessly around your torso, he never left a spot untouched for too long. He shimmied your shorts down your legs, and broke the kiss to look down at your figure, clad in nothing but your underwear. 

"Do you realize how beautiful you are?" He said, awe in his voice. He leaned back down and started to kiss down your neck, and in between kisses began to whisper praises and sweet nothings. Your face flushed and you listened to his soft voice telling you how beautiful ever curve of you was, and how much he loved you.

God why would you ever break up with Mark Tuan. 

He continued to kiss down your body, and once he reached your waistband he looked up at you innocently, "May I?" He asked, motioning to your underwear. 

"Yes. Please." You whispered, and never broke eye contact as he pulled them down and off of your body, tossed somewhere in the room, along with all of your other clothes. 

He laid down in front of your core, and wrapped his arms around your thighs, spreading them apart for him.

He kissed your inner thighs, alternating and slowly working his way up to where you needed him the most. Eventually he made it there, and to start he only placed small kisses around and near your entrance, and a few light pecks on your clit. 

"Mark, please." You moaned, needing more from your boyfriend. 

"As you wish." He said, and went straight in, sucking your clit and licking long striped from your entrance up. 

Your back arched in pleasure and eyes scrunched closed, lost in the euphoria only he could give you. He placed his hands on the base of your pelvic bone and pushed you down so that he could continue without interruption. 

Your moans and whines were a mess as he mercilessly ate you out, never ending pleasure washing through your body as you tangled your fingers through his messy hair. 

You could tell a knot sas beginning to form in your stomach but it wasn't until Mark inserted his middle fingers into your core where you felt the tension grow. 

"Shit shit shit shit shit-" you whispered, quieter with every syllable, getting lost in the pleasure and the sound of Mark encouraging you to cum was becoming too much. 

"Come on baby, let go," he said and sucked on your clit. That was your breaking point. The tension in your gut snapped and your hips snapped as you came, but Mark never once slowed down as you came, making sure to prolong your orgasm as much as possible. You whined telling him that it was getting to much and he slowly halted his movements. He crawled up and over your drained figure and kissed your forehead softly. 

"Think you can do that one more time for me baby?" He whispered, peering down intently at your facial expression, looking for any sign that you didn't want to continue. You nodded, still in too much shock to say any coherent words. 

Mark took your left hand and kissed the back of it before quickly pulling off his sweats and underwear. 

You watched him climb back over you and adjust himself in front of your entrance, "Ready?" He asked, awaiting your approval. You nodded yet again, this time pulling him back down for another kiss as he pushed himself into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. 

"Shit" You both gasped, the feeling overwhelming. It was more than just sex right now. Right now it was showing each other how much you really loved the other, and that somehow made the feeling even more overwhelming. 

He stayed still for awhile when he bottomed out, both of your labored breathing filled the silence of the room. 

"Go," you said looking up at him, his gaze patiently awaiting yours, nothing but loved filled his eyes and you could look at him forever with that gaze. He nodded and slowly pulled out before setting a steady pace. The light sound of slapping and quiet moans filled the room. The sensitivity from your last irgasm cause your walls to tighten and relax constantly around him as he continued thrusting into you causing him to grunt. 

"I'm not gonna last very long if you keep doing that." 

Instead of responding you reached for his arm with your own and intertwined your fingers as he began to speed up, his patience wearing thin as he got closer.

"Cum with me baby, come on," he encouraged you, going faster with each snap of his hips, "just a little bit longer, yeah?"

You moaned in response, the familiar feeling built up in your stomach as you squeezed his hand, telling him you were close. His hips got faster before suddenly he stopped, painting your walls with his cum.

You were on the brink of the edge but didn't quite make it, and he noticed right away, so his hand went to your neglected clit and ran circles around it, sending you over the edge and convulsing around his oversensitive cock in your core. You moaned out his name a few times before coming down from the high and looked up at him. You knew you probably looked like a mess, smudged mascara and a flushed face and messy hair, but to him he thought you were the prettiest girl in the whole world.

The thought of losing you terrified him and he realized that today. The sound of Mark crying was one that you never wanted to hear again. You were each other's worlds. 

"I love you." He said, kissing your forehead and laying down next to you, wrapping his arm and your waist.  

"I love you too," you said, turning to face him. "Never again." You said, referring to the worst day you've experienced, the arguments, the break up, the tears. Never again. 

"Never again." He whispered back before pulling you in closer and holding you tighter than ever before. 

 

[empty-words99]

uhhh this is smut lol

pls be nice, this is my first attempt at smut and i don’t know if it’s any good. also reminder: 18+ 

word count: 1,300

---------------------

“Sam … We can’t do this here,” you say between labored breaths as he peppers kisses along your jaw.

“But wouldn’t it just be so much fun?” He giggles against your collarbone as his hands find their way up your sweater.

“She’s right Sam,” a familiar deep voice resounds from outside the closet door. It’s Sam’s brother, Carter, of course.

The sweet boy pouts as he continues to let his hands wander. You adjust your sweater, telling him to stop, and make your way to open the door to see Carter standing right there.

“You might wanna fix your hair too,” he grumbles.

Sam follows quickly, but stops when he reaches his brother, pulling him in and messing up his hair.

“Why’d you have to ruin a good moment?”

“You would’ve gotten caught for sure. Are you an idiot? This is right outside Professor Birche’s office.”

“Fine. We’ll continue this later honey,” Sam says as he flashes a smile, but you know he’s upset. 

You guys haven’t had a real moment to yourselves in almost a month. It was getting to be unbearable.

That is, until one quiet afternoon about a week later. Finally, finals were done and winter break was only a couple days away. Both of your schedules matched, making it the perfect opportunity for some alone time.

Shortly after getting back from his shift at work, Sam quickly made his way to your room. Though he was in such a rush he ran, causing sweat to form on his forehead and shortness of breath.

���Sam? Everything ok?”

“Hmm, I’ve missed you,” He hums as he pulls you in close. At first you think he’s just needing a little attention, but the second you pull away from the hug, you can see the lust in his eyes. 

“Baby, I need you,” he whines.

Next thing you know, your body’s pressed against the wall with your arms wrapped around his neck and his lips on yours. The kisses are sloppy and aggressive, with teeth crashing against teeth. 

That’s not a problem though. It’d been so long you were both probably a little too eager.

“Jump,” he demands. You comply as his lips make their way down your neck, to your collarbone and eventually your breasts.

“Did you wear this on purpose?” he whispers into your chest. Not that you planned it, but you were wearing a matching maroon lace bra and panties.

Still pressed against the wall, you unwrap your hands and let them make their way down to the waistband of his pants. Sam lets out a soft moan as you snap the waistband.

“Sam, baby, let’s go to the bed now,” you whisper into his ear.

Agreeing, he makes his way to one of the twin beds in the room, laying you down on your back. He starts to pull back to adjust, but you keep your legs linked behind his back.

“Not yet, Sam,” you say, pulling him in for a kiss while your hands fumble with his belt buckle.

He chuckles as you struggle, trying to pull away again to get his pants off.

“No,” you firmly say while flipping to two of you, so he’s laying on the bed now and you’re hovering over him. You give him a quick kiss before sliding down to your knees while he sits up at the edge of the bed.

Before finally getting his belt undone, you palm him through his jeans, causing soft moans to escape his mouth. The sound is like music to your ears. Wanting more, you help him step out of both his pants and underwear, leaving nothing between your face and his dripping cock.

You lick up his shaft and tease the tip before taking in as much as you can. But honestly, you can’t even fit half in your mouth when you’re trying your best. While you find it frustrating, Sam thinks it’s so hot, watching you struggle to fit him in your mouth.

You lock eyes briefly as he grabs your head and pushes down, forcing you to take all of his cock. He throws his head back in pleasure, holding your head for a few more seconds before letting go.

You struggle to breathe as you cough and quickly recover while Sam gently wipes away the unavoidable tears from your cheeks.

“It’s your turn, baby,” he coos while helping you get up and take off your jeans. “Matching underwear too? You sure you didn’t plan this?”

You quietly remove your bra as he lays you back on the bed before kissing yours lips.

“Mm, so sweet,” he hums while trailing kisses down your jaw, to your collarbone, chest, then stomach before stopping and lifting your legs over his shoulders.

Knowing exactly what he’s doing, he keeps kissing and leaving marks all over your thighs, occasionally hovering over the wet spot on your panties, but never touching. 

“Sam, come on,” you whine, bucking your hips towards him.

“Be a good girl and I’ll reward you,” he says while holding your hips down. Though you could tell he was tired of teasing as he immediately moved your panties to the side and started sucking on the swollen bud.

Your hands fly to his head roughly grabbing the hair to hold too while he stretches you out with his fingers and tongue. He loves seeing you like this, losing your mind over his touch. It’d been far too long since he last saw you like this.

It was getting too much for him to bear. He needed to be in you. Now.

Very quickly, you found the sweet ginger boy hovering over you once more, now face-to-face.

“I can’t take it anymore, Y/N, can I fuck you?” Sam asks before doing anything more.

“Of course,” you say before pulling him for a quick kiss.

He lines up the head of his cock before slowly entering.

“Fuck, you feel so good. I’d almost forgotten how tight you are,” he says with his eyes squeezed shut. Following suit, you do the same.

“Sam, baby, I need a minute before you start moving.”

Eyes now open, he leans down to kiss you while waiting for permission to move. After adjusting, you give him the ok as he slides in and out once more, slowly picking up the pace until he’s slamming into you.

It’d been so long for both of you, everything felt intensified. Your mind went blank as his thumb started rubbing circles on your clit.

“S-sam … I’m so close,” you manage to get out between the moaning and thrusting.

“Me too, baby, me too,” Sam says as his eyes flutter shut once again when he feels you reaching your high, walls clenching around him, fingers scratching at his back.

Shortly after, he reaches his own, pulling out and cumming on your stomach before collapsing next to you.

“Fuck, that was good,” Sam pants, cuddling into your side as you both calm down. “Wanna go for round two?”

[meat-husband]

SFW Vincent and a fem so that he’s kidnapped??? Does he have to hide her or how does she react to him?

Thank u for requesting my wax boy!! This is sort of the original version of this post, but I liked it enough to finish them both apparently Vincent gives off stalker vibes lol

Your eyes open slowly, still heavy with sleep and fatigue, but there’s not much to see once you do. The room is dimly lit, only vague shapes somewhere in the distance that you can’t make out, and what you can see is blurry, filtered through your unfocused eyes. The rest of your body is still numb with sleep and so far all you can feel is the heavy weight of your eyelids, drooping back down as you contemplate closing them and drifting off again.

Each time you woke up, groggy and confused, you didn’t stay that way for long. These brief glimpses of consciousness were dizzying and your head already hurt, so you allowed your eyes to close again. You didn’t know what you had been hit with, but the pain hadn’t gone away yet, a deep, swollen throbbing over your temple and behind your eyes. There is a tender spot there and you suspect that it’s covered in a nasty bruise, but there is no way to see if you’re correct.

You’ve been here for days. Maybe even weeks, but the first few days were a blur, and even now you have no reliable way to know what time of day it is. There are no windows here, no natural light, but you can guess that it has been around two weeks spent on a little cot in the corner of a dark basement. They feed you once a day, or at least you think so, and you have counted eleven meals, plus however long it was before you woke up for the first time. Thinking of food only reminds you of the dry weight of your tongue, heavy in your mouth - it has been hours since your last taste of water, perhaps longer.

Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you try to focus your vision. Even with clear eyes, the room is dark, but it looks empty, flickering light showing you only shelves and tables, a worn chair pushed up next to a pile of loose papers. That’s where your captor had been before, but the glimpses you took now didn’t show him anywhere. He was lingering nearby, he always was, so you breathe carefully, stealing short peeks through your lashes. The room is dim enough that you can’t see clearly to the other side, so you remain still, waiting.

You are getting tired, though. The small amount of food and water you’ve been given hasn’t been enough to sate you - they’re just keeping you alive, giving you the bare minimum and each day only makes you weaker. There were no solid memories of your first few hours here, but you must have fought, the aches and bruises you had woken to told you that much. You wanted to keep fighting, but the tremble in your arms and spinning of your head when you sat up made you think that submission was the best option for now. Not forever, you told yourself, you were just going to bide your time, and one day you would have the opportunity you needed to get out.

There is a noise, a quiet shuffling from somewhere across the room. You stiffen in place, closing your eyes to keep up the facade of sleep even as the sounds grow closer. His steps are heavy, muffled in a way that makes you think he’s trying to be quiet, trying to step softly. A throbbing pulse starts up in your veins, heart beating faster in apprehension, and you hope he won’t notice the tension in your body. It’s probably meal time, the hunger in your stomach tells you, and you waver between fear and need. You’re afraid of him, of both of them, but they’re your only source of food and water.

You nearly jump when you risk the next peek through your lashes. The dim golden light of the room is behind him, a figure looming over the little corner you occupy made into a silhouette by the flickering candles. The darkness hides his features, but you know which one it is - only one of them ever comes down here, tending to you in between long vigils spent hunched over the tables, working at some task that you hadn’t yet figured out.

A hand hovers over you, as if he’s thinking of shaking you awake, but it never descends. Instead, he pulls it back, curling long fingers into the fabric over his chest.

“Wake up.”

His voice is quiet, raspy and unused, and you’ve never heard him say more than a word or two at a time. It sounds labored, like it takes some effort to get out the words he does say, but they’re perfectly clear despite the shortness.

You don’t try to keep pretending. The pain in your stomach can’t be ignored, you desperately want something to eat, so you open your eyes fully, looking straight ahead rather than up at the man standing over you. Your arms still shake when you push yourself up, and his hand is back, hovering over your shoulder as if to help, but you make it up on your own with only a little trouble.

A thick chain pools in your lap as you sit up, the padlock at your neck bouncing against the protruding bones at your collar. You wince and the weight of it is uncomfortable, but your hands are tied at your waist, so you can’t adjust the makeshift leash and collar. The length of it follows your legs down to the end of the cot, the metal cold against your skin, wrapping around the leg of the bed.

You wobble a little bit but stay upright, looking up expectantly, but a swoop of fear rolls through your stomach when you notice that there is no food. He’s holding a bottle, the same one he’s always brought you water in, but this change in the routine unsettles you. You’ve never been offered water outside of mealtimes, and unless they’re going to start withholding food now, you’ve never had a meal that was only water.

He holds up the bottle, shaking it back and forth, and although you’re uneasy, the slosh of liquid makes your dry mouth ache. You watch him unscrew the plastic lid, but you don’t open your mouth when he tries to press the bottle to your lips. Something is going on and you don’t want to be caught off guard.

“Thirsty?”

Your heart skips at the unexpected question and you look up, away from the water, meeting his gaze for half a second. You don’t hold it for long, forcing your eyes back to the floor and shaking your head. You’re dehydrated and tired, but you aren’t drinking that water no matter how much you want it.

He presses it to your mouth again, prying your bottom lip open with the rim of the bottle, but you jerk away. A small splash of water hits your chin, dripping into your lap, but you fight against the urge to lick the wetness from your lips.

“Drink.”

“I don’t want it.”

Your own voice is nearly as broken as his, dry and coarse. It hurts to speak, your throat seizing up and a cough builds, but you choke it back down.

He seems confused by your refusal. You’ve never turned down water before, and clearly you need it, but you keep your mouth shut and eyes down. He prods you with the mouth of the bottle a few more times, making insistent little noises, but you turn your head away.

A big hand grasps your face and you jolt, fighting to pull out of his grasp. Strong fingers dig into the flesh of your jaw, biting into you, and the bruised side of your face throbs again. He pulls at your bottom lip with a thumb, held still while he tilts the bottle to your mouth again. Soft noises, coos and shushes, come from him in an attempt to calm you, but the hard grip on your face makes you panic. Your hands, tied at your waist and unable to reach out of your lap, twist and pull at their bonds, rattling the chain.

“I’ll drink,” you gasp out, twisting your neck to get away. “Let me go, I’ll drink it, just don’t make me.”

You’re surprised when he does let go, and your head tilts and turns for a moment longer to escape the hand that isn’t there anymore. It throws you off balance, your chained hands too slow, and you go down, laying on your side and propped up on a wobbly elbow. You breathe heavily for a moment, watching him loom over you, but he makes no move to force the bottle back to your mouth.

You look at the bottle, and the brief taste of water you had gotten earlier makes you crave it all the more. The taste is always strange, more earthy and metallic than you expected, but it was a natural taste, not something tampered with. Maybe he’s trying to drug you, maybe not, but either way you know you’ve got to get it over with.

“I’ll drink it.” You repeat.

You’re too tired to sit back up so you stay where you are, watching with half lidded eyes as he offers the water again. Despite your protests earlier, you drink eagerly, gulping down the metallic taste and relishing the feeling of it soothing your throat. It drips down your chin, sliding down your neck and soaking into the dirty collar of your shirt, but you don’t care.

You watch the bottle in front of you empty, much faster than you want it to, but it feels so good to finally get something to drink. Food would have been good too, something heavier to push away the hunger in your belly, but you’re not going to complain.

Your eyes open when the bottle is pulled away from you, though you don’t remember closing them. Maybe it was drugged after all, because you’re feeling the exhaustion hit you now, making your limbs heavy. A hand on the back of your head pushes you gently down until your head lays on the mattress, long fingers digging into your hair and staying there. He doesn’t move even once you’ve settled down, bent at the waist to keep his palm pressed to your skull.

Your eyes are heavy again, but you keep them half open, peeking at him from the corners. You aren’t sure what he looks like, besides the long hair and messy clothes, but you supposed there was probably a reason he wore the ugly mask. It was just lifelike enough to give you an uncanny feeling of unease, and the right eye was always ominously dark and blank. He was tall, much taller than you, and bulky. You wouldn’t have been able to stand up to him even if you weren’t half starved.

“Better? Good?”

“Yeah,” you mutter in reply, feeling the weight of his hand shift as he slowly strokes your hair. “Good.”

[incoramsanctissimo]

So..you can answer this privately or post (or not answer at all lol). Up to you. But I just saw your tags in a post about pregnancy that said you don't mind sharing about your experience. Could you just talk a bit about your pregnancy, giving birth, breast feeding, raising a baby and being married? I realize that's like so much lol I just want to hear it from a young faithful Catholic woman. Thanks in advance :)

Absolutely! I’ll answer publicly in case anyone else is curious, plus I’m not really a particularly private person.

I tried to add the break but don’t know how to do it on mobile. I’m sorry guys, cause this is looooong. Scroll past if you don’t want to read a bunch of uncomfortable personal stuff.

First of all an unfortunate but essential part of the story is that I did not act as “a young faithful catholic woman” in the beginning, and it had a profound effect on all the rest. I’m not sure a person is supposed to broadcast their sins like this, but it’s essential to the story. I got pregnant a month before my wedding, which had been moved up from May to October in part because my fiancé and I were really, really failing in the whole chastity department and judged it best to just get married. AFTER that decision, I became pregnant. I started throwing up and feeling miserable and exhausted at four weeks, and got married at about five. It was not fun, guys. As soon as I saw that positive test I fully realized how irresponsible I had been and fully regretted my actions. I was constantly nauseated and threw up most days, couldn’t keep down liquids (so bad dehydration) and was deathly, deathly tired. Because of the hormones, I would feel nothing but a vague depression all day and then all of a sudden at bedtime burst into tears because I “couldn’t take it” or I had some worry about the baby’s future, though at that point I didn’t feel much emotion towards her of any kind. I was working a job I hated too, full time with an hour drive, and I had only gotten four days off the week of my wedding. I have to give my husband so much credit for the way he handled entering the married state with a pregnant, emotionally needy and physically drained wife. I was not in a bridal frame of mind at all and he just took it in stride. I had a much harder time adjusting to the married state. By the way, we were living in a large room in a house shared between my husband and two other guys, one of whom was the nightmare roommate par excellence.

In my second trimester things got a little better. I was able to eat more than pizza rolls and smoothies (yes, those were my 1st trimester foods), I quit my job and got a part time that was much much better, found out I was having a girl and began to actually feel a bond between me and the tiny bump that was starting to wriggle and press inside me: I had enough mental health to handle my husband getting laid off a week after I quit and to actually be some consolation to him for the month that neither of us had a job.

As the third trimester approached my baby was diagnosed with IUGR, Intrauterine Growth Restriction. They said the placenta wasn’t working correctly. I started throwing up again and having super painful episodes of what I thought was just really bad acid reflux. I got an average of four hours of interrupted sleep per night. I went for my 30 week appointment and told the midwife I was working a nine-hour shift that day, and she wanted me to call out but I wouldn’t. The next morning when my husband got up at five he found me curled up on the couch just crying because everything hurt so bad and I was so tired and I just really didn’t see how I could take much more. I called my mom and told her my symptoms and she said it sounded like preeclampsia. Then I called my best friend, who’s a nurse, and she told me to go to the hospital RIGHT NOW. Finally I did, though in retrospect I should probably not have been driving. When I finally got seen they took one look at my blood pressure and rushed me into the l&d emergency ward, where they had me iv’d and cathetered and being pumped full of magnesium before I knew what was happening. I asked when I’d be able to leave and they said “when that baby’s out of you.” I had severe preeclampsia and HELLP syndrome and I spent the next two weeks in the hospital. That day was Good Friday. I was supposed to make it to 34 weeks and then induction but two weeks in I had a night of the worst pain I’d ever had, and blood pressure they couldn’t keep down, and my liver was swollen and my kidneys were about ready to go, so they started the induction. The baby was struggling under the stress of the forced labor so I was once again rushed through the hospital in a bed to surgery and they performed an emergency C-section. Luckily my husband had gotten there earlier that day. He baptized our daughter as soon as she came out and I got to see her later on in the NICU. Her face and head were covered by a breathing machine and her body was so, so thin and tiny, but I knew she was beautiful. When I got to hold her for the first time she instantly became the whole world to me, and I was vaguely surprised at how painful it could be to have someone be your whole world — I had thought I loved my husband deeply but this is a whole new thing. She was in the NICU for five weeks and leaving the hospital without her was awful, but I visited every day and just held her against my skin for hours. She had a feeding tube and I wasn’t able to start breastfeeding her until about four weeks later, but when I finally was allowed to I was so proud of myself and her. I still love feeding her, I feel like it’s almost a way of communicating between us. I feed her everywhere and hope I can help normalize it even a little.

Our baby finally came home at what would have been 38 weeks and it was so exciting and so scary. I had of necessity unofficially quit my job when I was admitted to the hospital so now all of a sudden I was a stay at home mom, in a new house and a new town because we had moved to the country with my husband’s cousin literally the day I gave birth (thank goodness for helpful family members). I just spent my days cuddling and feeding my tiny one. She loves snuggles and in the early days refused to be put down, so I had her in my arms for about 19 hours a day. (I often wear her in a baby wrap, and it is a sanity-saver.) I still had episodes of that same pain I had experienced before I gave birth, and for a long time they were really bad, like screaming-into-a-pillow bad. My husband took me to the ER twice but they couldn’t find anything and it’s gradually gotten much more manageable. After a while I started feeling better overall and seriously taking on the responsibility of the cooking and the house as well, but I still spend a lot of time cuddling, feeding, singing and reading to my little girl, and I think it’s good for her. I don’t want her to ever, ever have the possibility of feeling unwanted or unloved, because even though I wasn’t quite ready for her and she put me through more physical and mental suffering than I thought I could handle — and in the process destroyed all my cute little mental images of maternity — I am truly and honestly so honored to have been granted participation in creating this beautiful, unique, new human being. I had read stuff about the dignity of sex but I didn’t really understand it until after she was born and I could fully appreciate that what we did led to this whole new person, with a personality and attachments and preferences and talents. And the best part? After my body and brain are (hopefully) completely healed, this privilege is granted to my husband and me not just once, but God willing many times over, and I am happy to go through it all again for another tiny human, because in more ways than I have words to say, it is worth it.

[makomaragi]

left over thing from femslash february. it’s long and dumb but idk.  a prequel to another fic I wrote last year. i’m just kind of over tweaking this lol 

prompt: jewelry

pairing: juniper/fennel (scientificshipping), but burnet/kukui are there for a little bit

rating: um pg they talk about sex for a second

fandom: pokemon

Research never seemed to take her to Alola as often as it did other regions, and after having been there for nearly a month, she wasn’t sure why. The region was teaming with all sorts of relevant topics, the time she had spent there not feeling like enough. Professor Juniper had gone to help excavate a new tar pit that was found near the sea, hoping that what they might find would help her with some theories that linked to other fossil Pokemon in other regions. She had heard for years now that Alola was a heartland for fossils – found so often that they were being sold in shops to trainers. Her own theory was that it had to do with the volcanoes and how the island itself developed millions of years ago, collecting samples of the dirt, rocks and fossils to take back home and test.

Packing up the camp site always left her feeling a bit nostalgic, having spent most of her childhood and teenage years backpacking with her father. She could probably untie and repack a tent with her eyes closed by this point, though, not everyone enjoyed the camping aspect of it as much as she did.

Most of the research team had left by that point, Professor Juniper and a few others lagging behind to tie up a few loose ends. She booked herself a hotel for the final few nights in Alola, giving her a chance to have a steady internet connection and a quiet place to get organized before returning to Unova. It worked out, and she was much obliged to meet her old friend Burnet and her husband for lunch in Konikoni City the next day.

She had kept herself holed up in her hotel room the entire time since checking in, seated at the desk that morning, reviewing her scribbled notes and attempting to make more sense out of them by typing them out on her laptop in a more final report. She still had hours to kill until lunch – too close to the time to eat, but plenty of time to do something else.

There was the lingering feeling of wanting to scope out the town. It would give her a chance to stretch her legs, hoping her body would adjust before the long flight home. She had been aching after sleeping in a tent for the past few weeks, but she had hoped taking a few days off from physical labor and sleeping in a proper bed would help ease it.

Bringing something back home for Fennel had crossed her mind several times. She tried her best to pick something up for her in her travels most of the time, but this time especially seemed to carry some weight. Fennel had been upset that she would be gone for nearly a month as it was and they hadn’t been able to speak much while she was gone. When they did speak, Fennel was her usual bubbly self, but the feigned distance and sadness in her voice couldn’t be ignored.

Several flyers and signs had caught her eye in the time she had been in town of a jewelry shop run by one of the Island Kahunas. She had known that Alola ran a different league system than many other regions, and wasn’t sure exactly what the Kahuna’s job was, but it was something to do with trainers. The professor felt a tad embarrassed not being as well versed in Alolan culture as she was elsewhere. She had met the Elite Four in other regions numerous times, some more than others, but felt she should at least know the names of those with the title in the region she was visiting, at least making an effort to introduce herself.

It was said that money couldn’t buy happiness, but higher end jewelry would at least put some sort of sparkle in Fennel’s eyes when she gave it to her.

The shop was small and rather quaint, Aurea not even sure it was open until she pulled on the wooden door handle. “Hi, there. I was told to come speak to Olivia?”

“You’re looking at her,” the younger woman looked up from her spot at the counter, raising an eyebrow. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Could be.”

“You’re a Pokemon professor, aren’t you?”

“Professor Juniper,” she held out her hand as a more formal greeting with the Kahuna.

“I’m Olivia. Island Kahuna and proud member of the Alola Elite Four,” shaking her hand before gesturing to the jewelry under the glass countertop. “So, what are you looking for today? Something for yourself, or a gift for someone?”

“A gift, I think.”

“For your wife, I’d assume.”

Aurea’s brow raised at this.

“You’re wearing a wedding ring and I don’t have anything in the way of men’s stuff. Besides, I know that you’re with that scientist chick,” the kahuna continued. “Any certain occasion? Let me guess. You’ve been away from home for a while, and want to get her a souvenir.”

“Something like that, I guess.” It was all extremely presumptuous of the girl, but she also supposed that she had an eye for these types of things when it came to her jewelry business. She was also sure that Kukui had something to do with all of her previous knowledge of her, somehow. Though being a Pokemon professor did technically make her a public figure. Olivia had already known who she was, after all. Nothing she said had been a secret in any way, and she supposed word had gotten around that she was visiting the region and had been there for a few weeks.

“What does she like? Necklaces, earrings, bracelets, what?” The young kahuna started pulling some shelves around under the display, pulling a few of them on to the glass counter top.

Aurea had a pretty good idea of what Fennel’s tastes were, it was easy enough – anything pink, purple, or shiny. None of which helped her narrow it down. There was a lot of jewelry in front of her. Fancy jewelry was never something that interested the professor on her own, never wearing much of it herself. Her late mother had left quite a bit for her, most of which she had given to Fennel. Fennel knew what all of the jewels were, what they meant, and which ones to wear with which outfits.

There was one piece that caught her eye, though. A small crystal looking, heart shaped pendant set on a silver chain that didn’t look at all like the other pieces, somehow. “This necklace is interesting.”

“Ah, this one. I don’t have many left.” Olivia picked it up and set it down on a cloth on the table to provide a better look at it. “We can only make them one time a year and sometimes not at all if the temperature wasn’t low enough.”

“Why is that?”

“The Vulpix shed their coat, leaving behind these crystals that look like ice. They can only be made and found here in Alola! It’s my shop’s specialty.”

“So it’s Pokemon dandruff?”

“Er, sorta. But it makes for some nice jewelry, don’t you think?”

“I guess.” She couldn’t pretend to be as enthusiastic as Olivia was over it, because she simply didn’t get it. Fennel would like it, though. “I’ll take that one, then.” Maybe she would save it for a special occasion, even if she didn’t know for what yet. It was expensive enough to warrant a birthday or anniversary gift. Or maybe she would just give it to her as planned.

Olivia picked up the necklace, finding a box for it in a bin behind the counter somewhere. “You probably know Kukui and Burnett then, huh?” she mused as she looked around for something else.

“Oh, yes.”

“They’re really nice people. He comes in here a lot. I made her engagement ring, you know,” she continued, stuffing the box in a bag and taking a few of her business cards off of the counter to add to the contents of the bag. “Well, you’re all set, then.”

“Thanks. Let me know if you’re ever in Unova, alright?”

Olivia gave a cheerful nod to this, waving in the same tone as the professor saw herself out.

Olivia was friendly enough, if not a bit bold. The professor could see she and Fennel becoming fast friends should they ever meet.

With what started with time to spare ended in her being late now. Kukui and Burnet were already seated at the restaurant, them noticing her before she could scan the room.

“Aurea Juniper!” Burnet pulled her in to a hug before she had any time to react. “It’s been forever!”

“Professor,” she extended her hand to him, only to be pulled in to another awkward hug.

“Alola!”

“How are you? How’s Fennel?”

“Fine, it’s all fine,” Professor Juniper barely had time to take her seat across from them and pick up the menu before the questions started.

“You know, I really wish she had come with you. She could of stayed with us, we’d have been happy to show her around.”

“I know, but she’s been very busy herself. So have you guys, for that matter.”

“I’m sure we’re all always busy. But we should make time for friends, right?” Kukui set down his menu to add. “I bet she’d love it here!”

“Fennel’s never been to Alola. She’s been wanting to come here as long as I’ve known her. She really wanted to go for our honeymoon, but then she changed her mind when she saw how busy it gets in the summer.”

“You’re both always welcome, you know that,” Burnet repeated.

“Maybe you should come back to Unova. Let us know when you come to visit your family.”

“Aurea and Fennel were roomies in college,”Burnet started, turning to her husband. “Then they got married.”

“That’s not...the exact progression,” Aurea attempted to hide her face in the menu, despite that she already knew what she wanted.

Yet Burnet continued, seeming fueled by her friend’s embarrassment. “Fennel had a thing for her for a long time.”

“I’m not the one that went to Alola for a research assignment and came back showing off that rock on your hand,” she attempted to direct the attention off of herself and on to the other couple.

“No, but Fennel showed me the one you got for her.” Burnet shrugged off Juniper’s comment, even if it was true. “They were together for, like, 10 years before they got married. Had a house and a lab and everything. Aurea thought they were being secretive, didn’t you?”

“It’s beside the point now.”

Aurea was certain that her old friend was only telling her husband this now in an attempt to embarrass her, and it was working. Surely she had told him all of this before. Even if it was the case, he was laughing. Burnet had actually known Fennel first, and introduced them in college. She was also confident Fennel had confided in her with other details of their relationship through the years, and the professor was perfectly happy not knowing what.

“Speaking of rocks, you were at Olivia’s, huh?” Kukui gestured to the bag that sat next to Aurea.

“Yeah. Thought I’d introduce myself to the Kahuna. She’s a very sweet girl.”

“But you bought something, eh?”

“I, um...” revealing the contents to them would only result in more attention on herself, which she did not want. But maybe it was best to get it over it. Picking up the bag, she handed it across the table for the couple to inspect. “Be careful with it. It’s for Fennel.”

The two scientists had opened it and gazed upon it for a short time, both smiling and handing it back quicker than Aurea thought they might.

“You did good. She’s going to like it,” Burnet had some sort of sly smile. “It’s just hard to imagine you in a jewelry store picking that out for her.”

She had never been so thankful to have a waitress approach and take their orders.  

Their lunch was nice at least. Burnet couldn’t open her mouth to embarrass her if they were all eating, even if it had all been in good fun.

“I hope that next time you’re here we’ll be able to spend more time together than just lunch. Unless I make it to Unova by then,” Burnet gave her one more hug upon their departure.

“It was great seeing you guys, really.”

“Tell Fennel to come visit, with or without you.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “We’ll see.”

Aurea didn’t know why she felt such a rush to get back to her hotel, besides to finish up some paperwork so she had less to do once arriving home. Fennel would want her to take the next few days off, and she probably would, if only to enjoy being in her own space for a few days and not hotel rooms and camp sites.

She was trying to wait until it was late enough in the day in Unova to call Fennel. If it was 2 am in Alola, it would be around 10 am or so in Unova. Or something like that.

Fennel quickly answered the video call, though she seemed a bit distracted. “Aurea, hi!”

The professor couldn’t help but smile upon seeing the other’s face on the screen. “I figured I’d call you at the lab because you’d be on the computer. You’re not busy, are you?”

“Not really,” Fennel started, seemingly organizing some papers around her computer desk. “But I can talk for a little bit.”

“We’re done in Konikoni City. I’m actually in a hotel. I’ll be home tomorrow evening.”

“I can’t wait. I miss you so much. And when you get home, we’re going to have sex all night. And we can take a bubble bath, and drink some wine, but mostly I just want to touch you again.”

“Is….is anyone there….with you…?” the professor’s face was definitely turning red, not that Fennel seemed at all alarmed by this or what she was saying to cause it.

“Oh, yeah. My assistant’s here, and Bianca. Bianca, Marie, say hi to Aurea!” Fennel picked her laptop up and spun her chair around, turning the screen so that they could see it across the room. The professor gave a hesitant wave to the other two women,  both who gave over exaggerated waves in return. They both seemed rather occupied, only looking up when Fennel prompted them to. Thankfully blissfully unaware. She really had been gone for too long if the dream scientist was being so forward with her.

“I had lunch with Burnet and Kukui this afternoon,”  she attempted to change the subject.

“How are they? I’m glad you were able to take time away from looking at rocks to be a normal person and socialize. When are we going to go to Alola? I miss Burnet,” Fennel had looked down at her papers again, throwing some off to the side but not wavering in her conversation.

“They’re fine. They’d be glad to see you, too. I’d be happy to take you there sometime.”

“We’re about due for a vacation, I think,” Fennel gave a wistful sigh. “But mostly, I just want you home with me. I’m so bored without you here.”

“You want me home because you’re bored?”

“Mostly, yeah,” the quick response met with giggles on both behalves.

“Well, my plane should get in tomorrow around 8. I’ll text you when I’m on my last transfer.”

“Hm...will you take a few days off to spend with me before you get all wrapped up in your research stuff?”

“I suppose.”

Fennel was still smiling, but seemed suddenly alarmed by something off camera. “I need to go, I’m sorry. There’s a trainer call coming through. I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you!”

Aurea didn’t have time to repeat the sentiments before Fennel had hung up the call. She’d rather Fennel tend to her work than ignore trainers for her sake. They would have time to catch up and plan vacations, especially now that she had promised Fennel a few days without her research coming between them.

They hadn’t spent but more than a few minutes speaking, but the yawn that crept up on the professor reminded her of how late it was. She would cram in as much note taking as she could before the hour was up, and force herself to sleep at some point. A night’s rest and a few plane rides were all that stood between her and being reunited with her beloved wife.

[herbaceousriot]

Living Life with a Silent Killer

I was sitting there holding my baby, that was just learning to crawl, and unable to tell which way was up. All I could do was look at this sweet active little baby in horror of what could happen to her if I lost consciousness. I didn’t have medical insurance and couldn’t call and ambulance. I decided I’d call a friend to take me to the hospital. As I try to make it to the phone, I cannot walk, I cannot stay on my feet, I am slurring my words and struggling to speak what is so clearly in my mind. I thought I was having a stroke. I was shivering and vomiting. I honestly thought I was going to die with no one to care for my daughter. 

I get to the hospital and even though I am in an incredible amount of pain, they left me lying on the floor of the waiting room for two hours. Until I started vomiting again. Then they had a reason to help me. They told me I was having a migraine, fed me pain pills, and sent me home. This continued over many years, only I never went to the hospital again for it. 

These weren’t the only issues I was having either. My eyes were giving me trouble, especially at night adjusting from bright lights. I was slurring my speech, constantly tired, my hands, feet, and face were going numb cold and looking completely drained of blood. I get dizzy and vomit even without any motion. My blood pressure was really low, like a constant of low 70s/30s.  I was passing out on a regular basis, and for no reason. At least no reason I could understand. Imagine feeling like you’re going to faint almost every time you stand up, or having to lie down and take a nap after doing something as simple as taking a shower. That’s what it’s like to have postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, or POTS. 

Although dysautonomia may sound like it, it’s not a disease but rather a collection of symptoms, POTS is a type of dysautonomia, which is an umbrella term for dysfunctions of the autonomic nervous system (ANS). With POTS specifically, the brain’s mechanism for regulating blood flow when you stand up malfunctions, resulting in symptoms such as a racing heartbeat, extreme fatigue and lightheadedness that can last for as long as you stay upright. Sometimes becoming so bad that you pass out completely. Sometimes lying down or sitting helps stop an episode. Can you imagine randomly having to immediately lie down somewhere in public?  🙋🏻‍♀️ Yep that’s me. People tend to think you’re on drugs. I’ve actually been fired from a job for “Continuing to come to work drunk.” If you know me, this is hilarious because I don’t drink. I’ve probably been drunk 10 times in my life. All jokes aside, POTS is difficult to live with.  I’m often accused of not looking sick or I’m told to just buck up.  POTS is said to have a SF-36 quality of life similar to congestive heart failure and COPD.  For someone with POTS (at the severity in which I have it) the effort it takes the body to simply stand is the equivalent to what it takes a healthy body to run a marathon. 

I have also been suffering with endometriosis for more years than my daughter has been alive. It caused quite a bit of problems through pregnancy and into labor. We almost lost both Olivia and I. I was so sick through my entire pregnancy I never gained more than 60 lbs and Olivia was born the size of a preemie even at full term. I was sick every single day. It broke some of my teeth it was so bad!  Can you imagine vomiting several times a day every day for 9 months? While passing out too? Even through labor!  And now everyone knows why I was NEVER going to do that again. Please stop asking. Lol

This recent surgery was actually a hysterectomy due to endometriosis. Although not fully agreed upon yet, there are many instances that point to endometriosis being yet another symptom of the body’s ANS not working properly. This happens to many women with dysautonomia. With this surgery the number one question I get asked is why would I have that done, followed by did you want more children. Well, at this point we’re a little late on the pregnancy option here.   Although that’s not the only way to get a baby.  I laugh, but really that was never a concern, although I’m sure it is for some. As far as why would I do this?  I have had so many procedures and medications to try and help all the problems caused by endometriosis before this procedure. This was the last resort. I have actually had two uterine repairs from lesions and tears in my uterus due to this.  It was full of scar tissue, all it did was cause me pain and bleed, constantly, always. This is a good thing. Painful, but necessary, and now one less thing for me to worry about. 

When I first started looking for answers I was looking for a fix. A way to make all of this stop. I later learned there is usually no cure for dysautonomia. It was a lot to come to terms with. All the things I was forced to stop doing. The new life I needed to learn to live happily in. It was quite a bit to process. I learned that the biggest control I had over my life was my health. Something I was starting with a handicap. The better I ate, the better I felt. I know it seems crazy to many but I changed my diet and started making healthier decisions when it came to what I put in my body.  I never imagined the difference it would make. The better I treated my body the less it betrayed me. And there my secret is revealed. I still have trouble coming to terms with all of this at times. I still feel as if my body is betraying me. I do my best to not dwell, and to be grateful for all that I have. I usually do a pretty great job. I mean really, if I’m all upset all the time, then those that love me most are bound to spend some of their day upset as well and no one needs that in their lives. For the most part I’m still the ridiculously silly girl that likes to speak in puns or song lyrics and types in emojis  and responds in gifs because autocorrect destroys my conversations any other way.  

My only treatments are really just treating the symptoms to make chronic illness easier to live with.  Measures to combat orthostatic hypotension, water bolus, stimulants, steroids, physical therapy for the scar tissue building in my muscles from constantly working without the oxygen levels they need.  Muscle relaxers I don’t take because they make me feel gross.  Medications to combat the dizziness and nausea when needed. To be honest, it’s hard to deal with more times than not. I find myself hiding symptoms and pain from my friends and family because I don’t want them to worry. It’s made a liar out of me, and the biggest and most constant lie I tell is “I’m fine.”  

The outlook for individuals with dysautonomia depends on the type and severity. People generally have a poor long-term prognosis. Death can occur from pneumonia, acute respiratory failure, or sudden cardiopulmonary arrest.  Other risk factory are easily bleeding out from trauma, shock, and stroke from constant and sudden changes in blood pressure, head wounds or broken bones from falls. This was the hardest pill to swallow.  Because of this I choose not to dwell on what I no longer have and instead I am truly grateful for all the time I do. All the memories I am able to create, and all the time I have with those I love and love me back. I have stopped chasing those that never seem to have the time, and spend all my time with those that make sure to be around. I have learned to love all the glorious little things that add up to make life so grand. I have learned not to worry about what others think of how I live and just to live life to its fullest. The things I do have a purpose, I do not need to explain them to people that don’t want to understand. Even as a curse it has also been a gift.

[renrutnnej]

I never wanted to be a mother

Oh boy, the miracle of birth and whatnot!

I’m really bad at absolutes. For example, as long as I can remember I’ve told people I never wanted to be a wife or a mother. As a little girl I remember looking at both jobs and being like, “Nah.”

My daughter was not my first pregnancy. The first time I was en-wombed was in university and I was a freshman who in the short span of six months time was sexually assaulted, and entered into a volatile physically and emotionally abusive relationship. Because of some mental health problems and a total lack of self esteem, I didn’t see either of these things in their correct light, I just thought my first year away from home was a real education in female adulthood.

Fortunately my first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. Is it weird or wrong to say that? I don’t think so. I was 19 and had already chipped a front tooth from being punched in the face by my boyfriend. So when I think about that time in my life, I don’t feel any guilt. Also I didn’t know I was pregnant until it was too late and what I thought was the worst period of my life was actually a miscarriage.

This gave me the impression that my physical person was a hostile environment to children. It proved that I knew I could and would not be a mother, ever.

—

To talk about my daughter’s birth, I have to set the stage, which in retrospect I’ve always described as an unfortunate series of events, but now I realize fully how incomplete and lacking in good substance my life would have been without her. I have to look at these events as exactly the way things were supposed to happen.

First, I could not find a writing job out of college (I graduated with a degree in English literature, lucrative I know). All of my self esteem issues came to a head and I resigned myself to the fact that I had been posing in college as a person with ambition when really I was going to end up staying a small town person working retail or as another’s administrative assistant or something.

Second, my sister graduated from college the following year and decided to move to Las Vegas. Through zero seconds of trying to convince me I decided to come along. Also our parents were already living there (they had moved while we were both in university).

This new start inspired me and I decided to do something completely different with my life. I was going to change the world by joining the Peace Corps. Whoa, except that stipend does NOT even come close to covering my credit card bills and student loans. Umm, backup plan, I was going to change the world by teaching English in South America, somewhere like Argentina or something. In the meantime I had to save up for this adventure so I took the first job I could, in retail.

Third, sexism has pissed me off for a long time. Growing up tomboy really instilled an (arguably ignorant) type of jealous competitiveness in me. Anything they can do, I can do better, or in the very least I can do it too. So when my male peers (retail managers) were having relationships with younger employees, I decided to too. I’m a modern woman, and cougars were like definitely a thing by then. I started hooking up with a very hot, barely legal (but also very legal), sales associate.

Next, in a few months time my sister moved to Seattle and my parents moved back to Washington state. They moved me into my own apartment on Warm Springs and back home to Richland in the same weekend. Finally I was a modern woman living in Las Vegas, with her lifelong companion cat (i.e., cat I picked out when I was 6 years old) Beauty, making it happen.

Just kidding, I got pregnant.

—

Getting pregnant a second time was a complete shock. And by that I mean, I thought it was impossible. As in, not even within the realm of possibility.

I’d been having some lady troubles for sometime and since my sister had had Exorcist level kidney stone problems I went to the doctor right away for fear. The doctor confirmed what I had known since I was 19. Well, almost. She said it appeared that my symptoms might be an indication that I was infertile. Twenty-four year old me: duh. But they still had to run the tests.

Getting pregnant brought intricate complexity and mind-numbing simplicity to my life. Having to tell the parents of my 18 year old (now boyfriend, ugh) that I was pregnant was terrifying. Having to tell my parents, worse.

No more changing the world.

No more Argentina.

No more writing.

No more freedom.

I had just fast tracked my path to wife and mother by being a “modern woman” making things happen.

No more infertility, what the hell?

And since this was clearly a miracle baby, getting rid of her never once entered my mind. This was obviously a baby Jesus type situation.

We moved from Vegas to Kansas City with his family. To say it politely, my parents weren’t pleased by my condition and the distance did us both a lot of good (I told myself). His family, on the other hand, were very happy and excited by the baby’s coming. At least they always gave the very genuine appearance of being so. I was less excited.

Actually I was the most depressed I’d been in my life at that point. I knew my body was a hostile place to fetuses so what the heck!?

I absolutely could not imagine the whole exit strategy of my situation. Instead I imagined death.

I took lots of time to myself and wrote pages and pages of tear-stained journals I can’t bear to read now. I slept as much as I could. I was mourning my death while I was still alive, growing a life inside of me.

Also I had to get rid of my cat, what the fuck.

—

I knew I was never meant to be anyone’s mother and so I was positive I would carry this baby to term and die during labor, and she would be cared for by this warm and loving family. And I would die young like I’d always predicted. Well, youngish.

My OBGYN became worried by my morbid questions about death rates.

I refused to have a baby shower or anything resembling a baby shower because I couldn’t imagine celebrating the event that was going to kill me.

My lamaze class teacher asked me stop asking questions about worst case scenarios because I was scaring the other mothers.

—

Working in retail brought about what I felt to be appropriate levels of shame and self-hatred.

Strangers, assuming me to be much younger than I was, made completely hideous comments about me and my baby, and my education (lol, right). I was constantly touched and given advice by strangers, interrogated regularly.

My retail district was close to a particularly violent one regarding shoplifters. Other managers in my store had been maced or stabbed with the tools shoplifters brought into stores to break off the security tags. One day I found the equivalent of a shiv in the front room of my store and went into the stockroom and had a complete mental and emotional break down imagining approaching the wrong customer just one time.

I felt I deserved this, though it enraged me. This was my penance.

My hormones surged. I snuck as many drinks of wine at family dinners as I could. (Sorry baby, but red wine is delicious). I had nightmares about delivering babies with heads shaped like deflated basketballs, or delivering piles of bloody guts. I obsessed over my single friends awesome lives (aka highlight reels) on Facebook.

It made me bitter that I had to die. I became resentful of my baby’s father, even though he tried his best with me. He wanted to marry me and have more kids, be a dad. I knew she’d be okay. Hopefully he’d marry someone who wasn’t anything like me or that evil stepmom bitch in Cinderella.

I’d end up letting him name her. I chose her middle name, Violet.

—

It began one Sunday night, after a large steak dinner (with red wine) at his parents. I kept feeling like I had to poop really bad every twenty minutes. It was so bad that I couldn’t sleep. By 1am I was on the toilet trying to push steak out and when I saw drops of blood, I freaked out. IT’S TIME! I screamed.

He sprung into action. What do we bring? Spoiler alert, I hadn’t even packed a “go” bag because I never planned on coming back.

We listened to Jason Mraz on the short drive to the hospital. God, this is the last song I’m ever going to hear. I focused on the words and tried to clear my mind of pushing all of my guts out.

When we got to the hospital, they did some tests and I wasn’t far enough along. Maybe this is a fake out, and I can go home and go to bed. No, the nurse told me, you’ll progress it just takes a little time.

Another nurse came in and did a quick ultrasound to see the baby’s position. Her tone worried me, looks like this one’s a breach baby. You’ll have to adjust your birthing plan. Just knock me out, I sighed. Oh oops, those are the baby’s shoulders. I thought it was her butt. She was low and engaged, and I was fine. That fucking nurse.

So he walked me around the hospital corridors while I had the worst cramps of my life. I tried not to cry.

This is how it ends, me alone in the hospital, out in the midwest, without any of my friends or family, with this kid, and this other kid inside me.

Around 4am I finally reached a point where I could get pain meds and this other drug that would help my labor progress while I was medicated, but first they had to break my water. I was terrified of any more pain. They showed me what looked like a knitting needle that they’d insert to break the membrane. The nurse assured me, her name was Bridget by the way, that it was painless. I sobbed. Couldn’t they just knock me out. My knees clamped shut and I couldn’t keep from trembling.

But it was painless and suddenly I was sitting in a puddle of what just felt like warm pee. That was it, water broken. I felt like an idiot. The drugs came quickly after that and by 5am I had progressed to the point that I could get the one thing that was keeping me going through this whole ordeal: an epidural.

The anesthesiologist came in and sat me perpendicular to the gurney. He told me to sit still because he was putting a needle the length of a ruler down my spine. But the painkillers really got to me and I had to crack jokes about how the only thing separating my naked body from the doctors and nurses in that room was a piece of paper gown. My boyfriend looked white. I was already stoned.

Afterward, I was finally comfortable, and I drifted off to sleep quickly. Bridget came in once an hour on the hour and put her whole hand in my vagina to see how far down the head was. I didn’t like being woken up but I couldn’t really feel anything and Bridget was my best friend at that point.

Around 10:45am things picked up. My baby’s dad was downstairs eating breakfast with his family when Bridget told me I’d need to call him, I was almost at 10 centimeters. He came back with his mom and Bridget told me now when I felt the urge to push to do it.

I didn’t want to poop on the table and I couldn’t get up to like clear things out before I labored a baby so I gave some weak ass pushes. Bridget could tell.

I gave one hard push and she exclaimed, JUST LIKE THAT! But I saw his face and I knew I had pooped. The shame. But again, I was stoned so meh.

Strangely I had turned down the floor length mirror at the foot of the bed because I didn’t want to see myself die, but if the end was coming I really didn’t want to see it.

“Bridget can you take off your glasses? With the lights and everything I can see my vagina and I really just can’t right now.”

She did.

With his mom video recording the monumental eruption and destruction of my vagina, my first child was born at 11:25 am. The doctor, I don’t know when she showed up (?), put the blue, guts covered baby on my chest.

She was out. I had tried not to picture her before because I never wanted to let myself go down that road in my mind.

I looked at her. She looked at me. She was gross. But she was an alive thing with eyes who looked at me. She looked like she’d been freezing (she was blue) in bloody Cream of Wheat. Also she had pooped in utero and that was everywhere, super great.

I had nothing profound to say, so I said, “Oh my god, a baby.”

Then they whisked her away to clean her up and do all the baby tests. Everyone else left too.

My body got overtaken with waves of pregnancy hormones coursing through me while I delivered the placenta and my whole body convulsed as the pregnancy hormones left me. NO, I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THE PLACENTA. Jesus.

The doctor began to clean up the volcanic eruption where my lower lady parts used to live. I knew I had felt a slight burning sensation during the birth, but I didn’t know it was a tear. I simply thought it was the slight onset of death.

It didn’t make sense to me that I was alive.

I had no plan for this. I didn’t even bring a nightgown.

Now what?

—

As of the time of my pregnancy, I can’t recall seeing any birth or pregnancy narratives that highlighted feelings like fear, depression, or general reservations without framing them them as fleeting blue aspects of an otherwise golden soft lit scenario. That’s not real life. I’m sharing my story, because even though I was certainly depressed, I don’t know that my feelings of doubt at the sudden onset of potential motherhood are all that uncommon.

When I share my true feelings and experience with friends, I often hear that other women are relieved by my candor. Dutiful, knowing mother is a trope to which I do not subscribe, and frankly, doesn’t reflect my experience at all. So I’m offering my story as just one against the many almost romantic Disney-esque birth and pregnancy stories. My daughter and I did not live happily ever after, and our relationship, just like any other, is one that has required hard work and patience (a lot of patience) but we’re both better for it.

This story originally appeared on Medium, April 3, 2016.