#i dont understand wrinkles

[alicre]

With great power comes great responsibility.

Btw I re wached ATSV not so long ago. Its still peak.

Alt version

[beehunterkisser]

comm i did for @cometcrystal of her PNF a wrinkle in time AU >:)

[oshidorifuufu]

i love the idea of short hair botw link

[skunkes]

as ive been sculpting out talon's face more and being happy with the little details ive been fixing and adding, i think the silco obsession is also a? Focus? Honing in? Back and forth appreciation? <- unsure of exact feeling, on how its so qwesome when characters have unique features even if stylized its so human its so charming i love it i love it

[racmune]

also have a sketch of heavy n scout i was workin on... i kinda like it

[cosmobrain00]

u evr see a post n go "man I could rip this apart in seconds"

[valdotjpg]

i love it when ppl whose artstyle is this like . alucard-esque anime prettyboy kinda thing try to draw morgott so we get fanart where gramps looks like a very tired bishie

[br1ghtestlight]

one good thing abt growing up autistic is that bodyshaming and beauty standards just did not work on me. ppl talking negatively abt acne, not wearing makeup, body hair, being fat etc just went in one ear out the other

[sleepyagent]

it came to my mind again that u told me how i seem to talk about my other past unrequited crush of 5 years alot and that it doesnt seem like im over her bc of that (its been nearly exactly 8 years now since ive been truly free of her tho lol) and it doesnt seem like i talk about her a lot at all, i barely talk to anyone about her, it feels to me which makes me very paranoid of how much i actually talk about you then, are ppl around me already secretly annoyed?? am i an obvious fool to them while i dont even notice?

but also why would i not tho, everytime i do, im happier

because..

idk

maybe cuz im reminded of your existence anew and that brings me joy? maybe because it brings you to my mind again and thinking of you makes me happier? tho i dont feel like you ever leave is it cuz i can "brag" about knowing you? maybe because i feel closer to you then? sharing feelings multiply them? its weird being hopeless but still would have conflicting feelings about anyone close in your life, im not truly free ye, it takes time

[ququoquaw]

i saw a vry good post on chilchuck but sadly it was not reblogable

[heyaheiya]

this inspired this little headcanon thingamajig.

Katsuki gets annoyed when he sees you clicking on your little phone. His snoopy ass is constantly leaning over your shoulder, wanting to know everything you know. But to his dismay, everything’s in English.

He recognises a few basic words like conjunctions, pronouns, and simple vowels. But with the grammatical order of sentences being switched around, he’s mostly guessing what you’re chuckling to yourself over.

He tries to use context clues, but when it’s the same low quality image of some random guy talking to a brick wall with a different text each video, he gets pouty.

You try to translate what’s so funny, but Japanese humour is much different to English speaking humour. You watch as Katsukis face contorts into a wrinkled mess when you attempt to to explain how #ihatemybf is peak comedy.

“Why are Americans so fucking negative??”

“Okay, multiple things. 1)I’m not American 2) Says you??? And 3) It’s so funny you don’t understanddd”

Whenever you find something funny, you try your best to keep it accurate to the original text, but sarcasm can be hard times translate. Katsuki ends up doing that half chuckle thing, but he seriously does not understand why you’re giggling over a heavily misspelt text, most words being gibberish or used in the incorrect context, with a low quality image, tied together with a very.. questionable audio.

Extra:

You walk into your house to see Katsuki, Shoto, and Izuku gathered around the dinner table with a phone in the center, playing the same short TikTok on repeat.

“What is ‘hawk tuah’?”

“Maybe Hawks has branched out his brand to the west?”

“Then why is the background image the penguin toy from Toy Story?”

“I DONT UNDERSTAND THIS SHIT ⁉️💥”

[strawberry-lychee]

self-care night w/ simon

self-care, charcuterie, and movie night with simon <3 he literally doesn't care what for dinner as long as you're for dessert!! tags: a little nsfw, but mostly fluff and loving on simon, i wanna appreciate the quiet moments you get with him <333 a/n: i dont think i've written fanfic since i was 17/18 but my current hyper fixation is ghost and so the brain worms need to come out

'girl dinner~ girl dinner~~~ giiiiirlll dinner~~~~' you sing to yourself, laying out slices of a freshly baked baguette, prosciutto, brie, strawberries, and other delectable little treats along the long cutting board.

youre at simon's flat right now since he's on leave and you both want to spend every second together that you can!! while simon was at the gym, you went to go get snacks for a movie night in together!! you had big plans to stay in and do nothing!! you weren't sure if everything you had planned was really simon's thing but you loveddd a little self-care night and you know that if you love it, simon's always game to play along (he's so sweet to you like that!!)

simon comes out of the bathroom, fresh out of the shower. his hair's still a bit wet and he's wearing a soft worn black t shirt and matching black boxer briefs. it takes all your willpower to not be a horny little shit and start something right now. "'m ready," he tells you.

"ooo yay!!" you cheered, excited. you had specially requested that simon let you do his skincare after showering.

he watches you gingerly setting the charcuterie board on the coffee table. he notices that there's already a glass of whiskey waiting for him. there were also two wine glasses sitting on the table adjacent to a pink wine bottle. and everything was sitting on top of these ceramic coasters you picked out and painted as a surprise for him during one of your first dates <3

simon watches you bounce over to him. you've already changed into one of his shirts and some little shorts. he's undressing you in his head as you take his hand and guide him back into the bathroom.

the corner of his lip quirks upwards as he lifts you by your waist onto the bathroom counter so you can have easy access to his face. you slide to sit closer to the edge so simon can stand right in between your legs.

your toiletry bag was already sitting on the counter. you dig through it pulling out tiny bottles of toners and serums and moisturizer. simon listens intently as you explain what each one does. you shake some toner onto your plans and massage it into simon's face. he closes his eyes and leans into your touch, content and safe. sometimes his mind wanders off to other things -- chores he still needs to get done, if his mom and dad were ever like this, flashbacks to the mission he just completed -- but your soft touch brings him back to the present. simon sits and revels as you work through each step, gently and lovingly massaging the potion you've brewed especially for him into his face. into the scars lining his jaw and cheeks. into the wrinkles of his skin from hours of stress, of laying in the sun, scoping out his target, of fretting about why you're still here, with him.

simon's resting his hands on your thighs, and he gives them the gentlest squeeze. it's a silent reassurance to himself -- that you're really there. with him. the prettiest bird he's ever met is in his little flat welcoming him home from deployment. he still doesn't understand how or why there's a soft spot in your heart for a brute like him, but he's learning to stop questioning it. he's learning that maybe he does deserve you after all. maybe simon does get to be happy.

"almost done~, just gotta do some lip balm next" you chime. simon grunts in acknowledge, his eyes still closed. he can't see anything, but he hears you pull out something else from your toiletries bag. you unscrew it, a moment passes, and simon barely registers the scent of strawberries before feeling your lips press up against his.

simon contently moans into the kiss, thinking about the passionate sex you two had last night... and this morning and right before he went to the gym. he raises his hands to firmly brace your hips against his. before simon has the chance to start nipping at your lips, you pull away and say, "all done!"

you even take a finger to swipe some excess lip balm off the corner of his mouth before you giggle and slip off the bathroom counter, absolutely aware of the effect you have on him. you love being his little minx <3

you walk over plop down on the couch and smile at simon, patting on the seat next to you, inviting him to join. for now, he ignores the growing tent in his boxers.

as soon as he sits down, you scooch up against his side and he raises his arm to wrap it around your shoulders. as you rest your cheek on him, simon feels a warmth creep up inside. you two fit together like pieces of a puzzle. before meeting you, what did he even do while he was on leave? this is the most at ease he's felt in a long time. the long lonely nights of sitting by himself on his couch, trying to figure out what to do next are in the past.

you turn to plant a kiss on his shoulder. there's a part of simon that preens under the ample attention you shower him with.

"you wanna try a bite of all this?" you asked. simon knows you're talking about the charcuterie board you put together, but he's thinking about something else he'd like a bite of 👀 👀

simon doesn't even have to give you a verbal response, he just opens his mouth and you slide in a delicate little bite of baguette and brie with a drizzle of honey on top into his mouth. he chews and chews, and relishes it. simon's never been one for 'fancy' food like this, but the fact that you prepared it for him warms his heart. it's been a long time since someone's made food for him. simon nods thoughtfully and takes a sip of his whiskey. "that's fuckin' gourmet right there," he says.

you giggle again. "im so glad you like it!!" you say. it sends a chill down simon's back.

oh, he could get used to this.

[falltoodeepinmymetaphor]

LIKE A PRAYER

i dont usually write like this anymore but i was feeling nostalgic so! ill release better stuff soon nuff

könig is a barren field.

there’s nothing alive under his hands. nothing that breathes, nothing that blooms. the shape of his palms doesn’t cradle, doesn’t hold.

only takes. only presses.

his fingers curl wrong, like they’ve been broken and pieced back together too many times, always in the wrong places, always in the wrong ways.

they look like something trying to be gentle but not knowing how.

and yet here you are.

gods have mercy, here you are.

the light finds you first. it always does.

it slides through the curtains, a crooked benediction, and stretches itself thin across your arm, the soft slope of your shoulder.

the light knows. it must. it bends for you, trembling at the altar of your skin. it searches for the place where divinity lives- just beneath your clavicle, deep inside the cathedral of your ribs.

könig understands. he understands.

your spine curves to meet his chest, and it feels like prayer. not the kind they teach in holy books. not the clean hum of hymns in a whitewashed chapel, but something raw.

something bloody.

something with teeth.

something that begs.

and you give. god, you give.

you stretch in your sleep, your breath steady and deep, your heartbeat thundering beneath the fragile cage of your ribs. it feels like an offering. it feels like forgiveness.

he doesn’t know what to do with it, doesn’t know how to hold it. doesn’t know how to hold you.

he only knows how to ruin the things he touches. love had always been a kind of violence, and now he does not know how to want without carving himself open in the process.

he asked god once, “why me?” he said into the floorboards of a house that swallowed him whole.

he wanted a reason.

something better than 'you are an unlovable, wretched thing, i wish you were never born, you ruined my life-'

he wanted more than cruelty.

and now here you are— the answer.

you, spelled out in the exhale against his neck, in the way your hand drifts to find his without asking, in the heat of your breath and the fragility of your sleep.

you. you. you.

you, curled here in his bed like a truth he isn’t holy enough to keep. like the answer to a prayer he’s been screaming into the void his whole life.

the atoms of the world rearranging themselves,

saying: i’m sorry.

saying: this.

saying: stay.

he thinks of it often. the way his hands once trembled, empty. the way they tremble now, full. how everything soft feels like a wound.

it embarrasses him, the hunger. the way he’s built his life on loneliness and now he is nothing but ruin in the face of your turning.

how you have undone him by simply being here, sunlight pooling at your feet, half-lost in his blankets.

he wants to tell you. wants to wake you, wants to put his mouth on your name and say: you are all there is. you are all there ever will be.

wants to ask, how do you do it? how do you look at me like i’m not broken?

wants to promise, i will learn to be gentle. i will learn to love without breaking.

but he doesn’t.

he presses his lips to the crown of your head, his hands to the ghost of your ribs, and stays quiet. quiet, and ruined.

alive only in the shape of your breath against his spine.

when his hand finds your waist, he doesn’t expect you to move. but you do. shifting, turning, pressing your hand to his cheek with a tenderness he cannot bear.

he leans into it, heart fracturing, and presses his lips to the center of your palm.

“good morning,” you murmur, voice heavy with sleep.

he wants to say it back, wants to give you something ordinary, something small, but the words that fall from his lips: “i love you.”

you blink, nose wrinkling the way it always does, and it nearly destroys him. his heart lurches, aching in a way that feels like the first crack of spring against a frozen earth.

“that’s not ‘good morning,’” you say, your voice soft, teasing.

his lips curve, a small, crooked grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “no,” he says, his accent wrapping itself around the words, “but they say it is good to start the day with truth.”

you laugh, and it is sunlight breaking through stained glass, filling the hollow places inside him he thought would always remain empty. he feels it settle, warm and aching, in the spaces he has spent a lifetime trying to forget.

when you pull him closer, your mouth finding his, it feels like something inevitable, like gravity, like falling.

“tell me,” you whisper, your voice so close it doesn’t sound like a question, more like a promise. “what are you thinking?”

it feels like every prayer he’s ever whispered into the dark, unanswered and aching, has come back to him all at once. in the shape of you. you. the heat of your lips, the way your hands tangle in his hair like you’ve always known the way, like this was always supposed to happen, like it was written somewhere before either of you were born.

his hands shake when they settle on your waist, not steadying you but steadying himself.

he leans his forehead against yours like he needs the contact to stay tethered, like he’s trying to remember how to breathe.

“you,” he says, and it’s the only word that fits in his mouth. “just you.”

you smile, soft, dangerous, and kiss him again, deeper, slower, until his breath catches, until his fingers dig into your hips like you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

he shifts, pulling you over him, his touch hesitant, reverent, careful in a way that makes your chest ache.

you laugh, your fingers tracing lazy patterns against his skin. “you don’t have to be so careful.”

“let me anyway.”

when he lowers you back onto the mattress, his weight pressing you down, he doesn’t move for a minute.

just looks at you like he’s trying to figure out how you exist, how he ended up here, how any of this is real.

his hands skim your body, slow, deliberate, memorizing.

“you’re staring,” you murmur, voice quiet, lips curling into something soft.

“i am.” his voice breaks at the edges. “i can’t stop. i don’t think i’ll ever get used to this. to you.”

you lift your hand to his face, fingers gentle against his jaw, pulling his gaze back to yours. “then don’t,” you say. “love me new everyday.”

he exhales, shaky, uneven, like he’s been holding it in for too long. the words come out before he can stop them.

“i love you.” his voice cracks, raw, like it costs him something to say it, like it leaves him open and exposed, bleeding out.

you don’t answer.

instead, you pull him down, kiss him like you’re stitching him back together, and he kisses you like he’s unraveling, like it’s the only way to keep himself whole.

when he takes you again, it’s slow, deliberate, like he’s trying to say everything he doesn’t know how to put into words.

your name slips out of him like a prayer, his breath warm against your neck, his hands shaking as they map the curve of your body.

he presses his forehead to yours, his eyes shut tight, like he can’t bear to look at you and can’t bear to look away.

“you make me feel…” he begins, but the words catch, refusing to surface. his voice fractures.

“it’s alright,” you whisper, your hands running down his back, anchoring him. “i know.”

and isn’t that it?

you know.

you know better than he does. than he ever will.

[thomaslittlegirl]

i could be. thomas shelby

you could be a good mother, but he doesnt think so.

warnings; angst.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

thomas lies on his bed, his triumphant smile after his orgasm only makes you want to make him feel good again.

his blue eyes look at you and penetrate into your soul; he looks at you as if he knew each of your thoughts and secrets, but not your desires.

shelby blows the smoke from the cigarette in your face and laughs briefly at how you wrinkle your nose.

your hand goes to his cheek and you caress it gently.

“tommy?” you call him in a whisper.

“yes, sweetheart?”

he looks at you in a way that makes you feel like you're floating. it's a feeling that can't really be explained in words and only those who have experienced it know.

you don't know how to ask the question, and until the moment it comes out of your mouth it is not a question, but rather a thought, a wish.

“what would you think about a baby?”

thomas looks at you with the smile still plastered on his face until he understands your question and erases all expressions on his face.

now his expression is unreadable, as if he were not thinking or feeling anything; as if he was an empty container.

“are you pregnant?” he asks; his eyes having a war with yours.

“no.” you quickly deny and you can notice how the color returns to his face. “but would you like it?”

thomas looks at you for two seconds and then the answer comes. “no.”

you let out a laugh. “i'm serious, tommy.”

he dont. he doesn't laugh. “me too.”

your hand stops caressing his cheek and your brow furrows almost by itself.

if this is a joke you are definitely not liking it.

“why not?” you feel naive, victim of a vile joke. “wouldn't you like to have a baby with me?”

thomas clicks his tongue. “no, i'm not cut out to be a father.”

the answer leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. the palms of your hands sweat; you were never good at confrontation... much less about topics as difficult as these... much less with him.

“what stupid things are you saying?”

“what you hear.” he answers, obviously. “we shelbys are not made to be parents. i'm not made to be one.”

“what do you mean you're not cut out to be one?” questions. “don't you plan for the future with me?”

he remains silent, also sitting on the bed like you. he ruffles his hair with one of his hands while throwing the cigarette butt into the ashtray with the other one.

“i'm not that kind of man.” he says simply. “i can't settle down, i have a lot of things on my mind.”

“what the hell are you talking about?” you claim angrily, pushing one of his arms away.

thomas looks at you, angry at your action.

“i'm not the kind of man who sits back and settles for playing happy house!” he says harshly. “i will not leave my lifestyle. ”

“fuck your lifestyle!” you retort, also angry. “you can't live being a gangster forever... you have to think maturely. for once! ”

“i told you i'm not that kind of man!” he says, standing up from the bed angrily, putting on his pants. “i won't sit down and play house... not when there is so much to expand, so much money to earn... it just doesn't suit me. ”

you look at him, feeling your body heat up with rage. “you are pathetic! this is all pathetic... how can you not want a home to return to?”

“my home is the brothels... the bars with good whiskey.” he points out obviously, putting on his leather shoes quick. “i won't sit down and rub a woman's belly... damn, i won't stop fucking my whores because of a baby in a belly!”

you remain speechless, looking at his worked back with nothing to say. really, for the first time, you are left speechless.

thomas puts on his shirt and turns to face your gaze. the puppy face you make almost makes him feel a little sorry for being so harsh... but at the end of the day; is it not the truth?

you feel stupid, you feel stupid and totally used. you don't feel like a partner but like a slut, like an everyday whore.

thomas's cum runs down your thighs and stains the sheets. feeling the warmth down your crotch only makes you feel like an unpaid prostitute.

thomas gives you one last look over his shoulder, with the coat under his arm, and before walking out the door he gives you his last word.

“you knew what you were getting into when you met me. don't try to change the way i am because that won't be possible.”

[traffytaffy]

OP Men and proposing💍

Ft. Law, Kid, Sanji, Zoro.

Sorry i haven’t posted in a bit. I had like no ideas, but this was actually requested by my best friend who was going through “marriage fever” lmao.

Requests are open!

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Law;

-Marriage isn’t something he’s concerned with but if it is something that you’ve shown interest too, then he’ll consider it. But expect a proposal after several years of being together.

-He would prefer something quiet.

-Somewhere that only you can hear the way he speaks to you in his gentle voice as he tells you everything he loves about you. 

-He wont get on one knee but he would be right next to you, thigh-to-thigh, hand-in hand… as the close contact of his warmth radiates off of him and onto you.

-He would probably pick the night time so it would be more peaceful as the moon and stars are out (also so you don’t see his deep blush)

-He looks embarrassed at first but decides to just be upfront and honest.

-He would pull out a diamond ring. It wouldn’t be too extravagant,something minimal but filled with love.

“Would you…accept this? And make me the happiest man…once more?”

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Kid;

-Marriage doesnt really pass his mind. If youre with him. You’re his, not a paper or a ring can tell him otherwise.

-I dont think he would care about the logistics of it, but he decides to take matters in his own hands once he sees someone flirting with you…

“Married?”

You nod to get the person flirting with you away…

“I don’t see a ring on ya finger”

-After…beating their ass. Kid would make you a custom ring with an engraving of you and his initials.

-Instead of getting on one knee. He just hands you the ring, his flustered face not able to meet your eyes and all he says is:

“Keep it on, you hear me?”

-And thats all you needed to hear to know you’re a married partner now…without even saying yes.

(You can not convince me he’s not a big softie)

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Sanji;

Do i even have to say it?

He has every…little..thing… planned..

-Its Sanji, you should know he would make a proposal the most romantic gesture he has ever done.

-He’d probably buy you bushes of flowers. Petals running up and down the beach where you find a candlelit dinner waiting for you. And of course… he cooked it all.

-French wine. The best of the best.

-His suit was fresh and crisp, not one single wrinkle in its fabric. You actually felt a bit under-dressed but he assured you that you were the most beautiful thing to him no matter what you wore.

-You felt like an idiot cause out of all the extravagant dates and romantic gestures hes done for you, it took him getting down on one knee for you to finally understand what was happening.

-He has a long speech. You probably have to shut him up by giving him a kiss midway through and saying “please shut up. Of course its a yes” in a sweet and playful way obviously.

-Cause he didnt need to say every great detail about you for you to know your answer was always going to be a yes.

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Zoro;

Probably accidentally got lost and made it to an office where he can file for marriage.

(Kidding…well maybe..?)

-He probably would propose if its something you want. As for him, its not really a big deal.

-He actually does try to plan it out to the best of his ability, asking his crew members for help.

-He loves you so much and wants this to go as planned that he even asks Sanji of all people for help. Sanji takes care of cooking a special dinner for you two.

“Im only helping you cause its for y/n”

But secretly, he wants Zoro to be happy as well.

-When it happens, you two are alone on the deck of the ship, sharing a drink after the two of you ate the dinner Sanji had made for the two of you.

-When the time of the night came that he thought was right, he is sweating profusely.

“Can i talk to you?”

-You nod and listen as your beautiful eyes stare into his, causing him to stutter.

-He doesnt have a speech or anything, he believes the words should just come to him.

But they dont.

-He pulls out the ring and looks at everything else but you.

-He holds the ring out to you while rubbing the back of his head nervously.

“Marry me?”

[pedge-page]

#3 of Joel dealing with his Preggo reader : hungry

Warnings: oral m receiving, lactation kink, breast feeding, pregnancy, Joel fluff doing the absolute most for his wifey

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel is leaning back in his armchair on this lazy Thursday evening after having worked 12 hours today on a rigorous construction project. He sighs heavily, glaring down at his absolute favorite sight in the world right now: his heavily pregnant wife between his legs leisurely sucking his cock like a popsicle.

With a pillow below your knees, you looked like a dream. Your eyes closed as you gently hum around his mushroomed tip, suckling his precum. There was no rush to your movements, no desperate urge to make him cum: you were simply just enjoying the heavenly weight of your husband's blessed member sliding in and out of your waiting mouth.

He doesn't immediately register when you pull off his cock with a pop.

"I want taiyaki."

Joel shakes himself from his dazed relaxation. "Taco what?"

"My cousin who took me to the international fair 3 years ago? She got that and let me try it and it was really good. I want that." You sit back on your knees, waiting for Joel to get moving. He doesnt. "Right now," you add.

He's learned very quickly that once you have a craving for something, everything else must pause until you get it. Joel begrudgingly tucks his hard and unsatisfied cock back in his sweat pants, grabs his keys and reverses out the driveway, repeating it in his head: tai-yak-i, taiy-aki tayo aki, taco yaki, taco yucky—tacos aren't yucky they're delicious why couldnt she ask foR YUMMY TACOS I COULD HAVE MADE THAT AT HOME.

It takes him an hour of frantic searching of Japanese shops, and finally finding one, having begged the poor lady at the counter to make them—whatever they are, —hot and fresh for his pregnant wife at this late hour despite the shop closing in a few minutes. Luckily she seemed to vaguely understand his garbled mish mosh of the word and went to work.

He tips her generously and is out the door, plastic "have a nice day" bag secured in the passenger seat of the truck as he speeds home.

He triumphantly drops the bag next to your sleeping body on the couch. Your nose wrinkles, eyes shooting open at the sudden new smell. No hello, no thank you, just grubby hands diving in to the bag and opening the styrophome container.

You pause, staring at the contents. "What is this?"

"Its the thing: taco-yauki."

You look at him in incredulously, and he shoots the same look back, mixed with confusion.

"These are fried octopus balls, Joel?"

"Why the fuck would you want that?"

"I didn't! I wanted cream filled waffles! Taiyaki! Not Takoyaki!

"I DONT KNOW JAPANESE, WOMAN."

"STOP YELLING AT ME!"

"I'M NOT YE—" he inhales deeply before exhaling, letting his shoulders sag. "I'm not yelling, baby. I'm sorry. I promise I didn't know."

You shake your head, eyes swelling with tears of hangriness. "Honestly, Joel, if I knew you were going to be this useless when I married you," your voice cracks. You push the now cold balls away and cross your arms, pouting.

Joel covers his eyes with his hands. What a fucking night.

He knows that you dont mean it. That you're tired, crankly, in pain, and hungry. And that your dumbass husband was in such a rush that he didn't take a second to write it down, let alone ask you exactly what he was looking for. He remembered the fish pastry now, something he could have bought at the grocery store 10 minutes down the road. His back hurts, dick hurts, eyes hurt. He doesn't want you to be hurt too.

"Joel," you peep meakly.

"Yes baby?"

"I'm um. I'm sorry for what I said. You're not completely useless." You twist your fingers apologetically, which he finds absolutely adorable. It's impossible to even remember what he was so annoyed by. You clear your throat and speak sweetly: "I don't want taiyaki anymore. Can we have tacos instead?"

He smiles. "White-people tacos or street tacos?"

"The ones you make, please."

Joel's warm hand craddles your cheek softly. "Coming right up, angel." His hand filters down your throat before settling over your chest, fingers ever so gently tracing the lace line of your nightgown, pulling it down slightly to expose more of your supple cleavage. "But first, I get my cream filled pastry."

"Wha—?"

He gets on his knees, yanking your shirt down as your swollen tits—courtesy of your soon-to-be child— bounce out. You hiss at the sensitivity of being so heavy and full of milk.

Joel wastes no time wrapping his lips around your pebbled nipple and sucking gently, the creamy liquid so built up in your system that it just flows naturally into his eager mouth.

"You were hungry too, huh?" You teased.

He hums around your engorged breast, eyes closed in bliss. He softly kneads your unoccupied tit with one hand, the other joining your palm in passionately caressing your large tummy. You both feel your baby kicking happily now that mommy and daddy have made up.

- - - -

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